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imissjoongsmullet · 3 years

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My Prince (6 - final)

Pairing: Minghao x reader

Genre: fluff/(angst)

Summary: Life is not exactly easy being the royal gardeners’ daughter but at least it’s simple. When you’re suddenly called upon to serve as the prince’s personal servant, things get a little more than complicated, especially considering the secret history you and the prince share.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Warnings: general angstiness, a bit of a slow burn, very romantic, very soft, the fact that this will most likely become a long series cause I have no chill

Word Count: 6.5K

Author’s Note:

This final chapter finally fulfills the premise that this is in fact fluff. I promise I’m done breaking your hearts now, woohoo!

My Prince has grown so near and dear to my heart. I don’t usually write long fanfics so this was really quite special. I know I might sound overly dramatic or corny to some of you (and that’s okay). It’s just, I try to be intentional with everything I do. That’s why I wanted to do this right. That’s why I’ve gotten so attached. That’s why it’s taken me forever to finish as well probably haha!

This story is far from perfect. There are countless things that I would have liked to sculpt out more... but I think for that to have happened this would have to become a full on novel and that’s not what this was ever meant to be, so I’ve got to let go of those thoughts and just send it out into the world as it is.

In any case, I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. As always, please let me know what you think. As a writer, any type of feedback makes my heart flutter~

Thank you for all the love and support ♥

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You fell to the floor, your shriek buried in the chaos that surrounded you. There was so much noise so suddenly and none of it sounded good. Panicked, you raised your head to see the entrance to the room had been broken wide open and soldiers in silver and black attire were pouring in, brandishing swords, fire and crossbows. Yientan. Another cry left your lips as you scrambled backwards until you hit the wall behind you. They were here. They must have found out about the wedding and wanted to stop it before a legend could take away their power.

Strong hands grabbed you by the collar and you screamed out for help. You struggled in your attempt to pry the stranger off of you until you noticed the face that belonged to it.

“Come on!” Minghao ordered, dragging you up. He took your hand and set off at a sprint, leaving behind the bulk of the commotion. You could hear banging and screaming from other directions as well though. They must have the whole castle surrounded. Luckily Minghao knew all the secret, little passages attackers tended to overlook. It didn’t take long for you to realize where he was taking you. Before you could come to your senses, you were dragged through the heavy doors to Minghao’s private chambers and sat onto his bed.

“Stay here,” he said, kneeling at your side, clasping your palms in your lap, “don’t leave until it’s all over.” He got up and turned to leave.

“Wait!” you called, stopping him midway, “you can’t go out there!”

“I have to,” he replied stone faced.

“No!” Now it was you holding onto him. “Please don’t—” Your fingers dug into his robes with desperation.

“I have a responsibility,” he said, “I have to go—”

“Then I’m coming too,” you cut in but he shook his head.

“You can’t help,” he explained, “I can so I’m going.” He eyed you sternly for a few more seconds before softening. He sighed, brushing his hand over your cheek lovingly and finally saying, “do not follow me.”

“Hao, please,” you called as he pulled away. You ran to him just in time to keep him from shutting the door behind him entirely. Only a sliver of his face was visible in the gap.

“Stay safe,” he said, before vanishing.

In stunned silence you let the doors fall shut. You walked over to the bed and sat down because your legs felt shaky and your head dizzyingly light. Outside, the uproar continued to grow but Minghao had told you to stay. Your heart ached. It pulled and tugged at you, trying to get you to move but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to disappoint him. Your fingers wrapped around one of the silk pillows on his bed. Closing your eyes, you hugged the thing close. It was all you could do not to cry. You just wanted everything to be okay— for everything to go back to normal. But you supposed none of Minghao’s life had ever really been normal.

A loud crashing sound made you jump. Some large piece of glass must have just shattered somewhere. You got up from the bed and began to pace the room. You clamped your hands over your ears in a miserable attempt to shut out the madness. Shutting your eyes didn’t help either. The itch to do something was growing unbearable. When a few minutes later a crack so deep it was like walls crumbling made the wooden floor tremble, you decided that enough was enough.

Head in overdrive, you went for the window. Its balcony was wide and looked out over the east side of the gardens. Tonight, there were only balls of fire within the dark. With a sickening lurch, you thought of your parents. Had they managed to hide or escape? Or had the attackers set flame to their house while they slept, trapping them in an excruciating death? Panicking, you went for the balcony ledge. Once your feet found balance, you grabbed onto the ornate pillars and started to climb. The plan seemed insane and yet, somehow you felt like the adventurous prince had definitely made this climb before. With that information fueling your confidence, you made it onto the roof above the prince’s chambers.

From here, you could see most of the castle and its grounds. A landscape of hills and valleys lay before you in the form of various curved rooftops. It would have been quite beautiful if it hadn’t been for the screams and the fire. You didn’t know what you were doing, really. You just wanted to know everything was going to be alright. Besides, you’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Minghao while you hid away like a coward.

How many people were fighting down there? How much of a chance did they stand against Yientan? And what could Minghao possibly do in all this? You didn’t even know if he knew how to fight.

Hunching down to a crouch, you made your way toward the center part of the castle. You looked down wherever you could, trying to get a feel of the situation. You saw two servant girls running on a deck as they cried. You saw men fighting in little courtyards, blood staining their clothes. You saw the wooden walkway towards the prince’s library collapse in flames. All of this roused an anger in you that surprised you. You’d never been the bravest of people— you still weren’t. But something was taking over you. It didn’t matter that this castle had been the bane of your existence for the past few months. The castle was under attack and you felt it as you’d feel an attack on your own family. You jumped from roof to roof, wracking your brain over a way to help.

Something sharp whooshed past you and you gasped. You were just in time to turn around and see the Yientan soldier standing on a nearby rooftop, reaching for another arrow. You ducked away towards a lower part of the roof, suddenly feeling the sharp sting on your cheek. There were hurried footsteps behind you and you were running out of options. Your rooftopped landscape came to an end as you happened upon the center courtyard of the castle, where more soldiers fought.

Hoping fiercely you weren’t making the wrong decision, you jumped.

The landing was harsh and you failed to stifle the noise that fought to come out your mouth. A man dressed in silver and black turned your way.

Wasting no time, hopped onto the deck and dashed into the nearest corridor, running as fast as you could in your clumsy servant’s robes. You were disoriented and scared but also determent to outrun the soldier. The long hallways of the castle once again felt like a devious maze, trying to suffocate you. You turned a corner and half-fell-half-jumped down a narrow flight of stairs. Ignoring the sting in your left leg, you rushed along a half open deck, ducked under a low archway that lead you down to the underbelly of the castle. Here, it was pitch black except for the spaced out torch light that hung from the walls. Luckily, you knew where you were going. This lowest level of the castle was used for storage and servant work deemed too dirty to be looked upon by the masters. You took a right through a small door, finding yourself in one of the washrooms the servants used. Just as the soldier’s feet hit the wood floor behind you, you opened one of the closets and grabbed as many fresh sheets as you possibly could, throwing them over him. You watched him struggle for only the fraction of a second before escaping through a side door. You knew exactly where to hide.

You reached your destination within a minute, lowering yourself into a little crawlspace underneath the floorboards of the broom closet servants used to hide from Tou Ma when she was angry. You’d only have to wait a few minutes for the soldier to give up and leave and then you’d be safe. You were about to close up the floorboards when you heard the most dreadful sound in the world.

It was Minghao. He was screaming.

Without a second thought, you burst back into the corridor. You followed the echo of the scream in your mind. It wasn’t far off. It was right here, under the castle. You tried every door, finding deserted room after deserted room, wondering why Minghao was even here, hidden away from all the commotion.

Aside from the soldier that had followed you down, you hadn’t seen a single person down this low. Perhaps you’d imagined it, you thought, just as you slid through another open door you knew lead to the pantry.

The most shocking thing was not that Minghao was there; it was that the emperor of Namin was there too.

Minghao was knelt over his father’s form, shuddering slightly.

“Hao,” you whispered as you approached, an awkward feeling settling in your stomach. Something was very wrong. Tentatively, you knelt down beside the prince, gasping when you saw the blood. Panicked, you looked down, now noticing the dark trail on the floorboards.

“What— what happened?” you stammered. Minghao hadn’t acknowledged you yet. He was doubled over, tears falling down onto his father’s chest.

“Don’t leave me.” His voice was so thick with emotion the words were barely audible.

You knew the emperor wouldn’t reply.

“Please, father,” Minghao whimpered.

You’d never seen him like this; torn apart like an old book. Afraid of making things worse, you sat by and waited. The war outside didn’t matter now. You allowed his sobs to turn to quiet slowly.

When they had, Minghao straightened his back and looked at you. His face was red and blotchy. The pain in his eyes made you want to wrap your heart around him.

“He got shot,” he said at last. His hand reached out for yours and you took it, surprised at the tightness of his fingers around you.

“I found him back in the celebration hall I— I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I couldn’t let Yientan have him so I tried to find a place to hide him but by the time I got here he was barely breathing and—” fresh tears burned in his eyes, “he just— I can’t do this without him I can’t—”

“Hao— ” you started just as a creak in the floorboards made you both jump.

Over a dozen people shuffled into the room, each person looking more perplexed than the next at the sight of Minghao and the emperor. You blinked in surprise at the appearances of the Zhong family, a bit battered and stunned-looking but otherwise fine. Last to enter the room was Tou Ma. Her face paint had smudged, there was blood at her temple and her robe was ripped at the sleeve.

“Stay back, girls,” she said with a voice just as stern as ever before coming over. Her face turned grim the moment she got on her knees and took in the sight. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared and her thin lips parted. She took a few moments to regain her calm. Gently, she flattened out a crinkle in her robe as she cleared her voice at last.

“My prince,” she spoke solemnly, “from the heart of Namin, I offer my deepest condolences.”

Minghao continued to stare down at his father’s chest.

“Tomorrow we mourn the end of the era— tonight—” she paused, her wrinkles tugging into a frown, “tonight lies in your hands.”

The words hung in the dusty storage room air, settling over the people within it, slowly, like bits of falling snow.

“My prince?” Tou Ma said and her voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

Minghao hadn’t moved an inch. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking either.

Strands of messed up hair hung in front of his face as he looked down at the emperor. You knew Minghao understood what Tou Ma had implied. Now that the emperor was dead, Minghao was automatically in charge. It was time for him to fulfill his prophecy and become the legend he was destined to be. Except that Tou Ma hadn’t said it like that exactly. She’d left the decision up to him. Tonight lies in your hands. Somehow, you felt like the head servant understood the pressure that weighed on the prince. She’d left the course of action open so that, should he choose to do so, Minghao could hide away with the rest of the castle’s residents. Should he choose to do so, he could surrender to Yientan. It was up to Minghao to decide his fate, not some legend assigned at birth.

Finally, Minghao looked up at Tou Ma.

“My mother,” he said, “is she safe?”

“Of course, my prince,” Tou Ma replied at once, “she was my first priority. I sent her through the royal passage behind the west room tapestry before bringing others to safety. She must have reached the safe house by now.”

Minghao nodded. “Thank you.” He sat there, thinking for a few more seconds before he stood up.

“I’m going out there. Everyone else stay here.” His voice was monotone, matter-of-fact. “I have to speak to the emperor of Yientan and put a stop to this.”

No one spoke as he turned to leave the room. Even you were too shocked to speak. It was only after he’d left the room that you found the strength to move.

“Silly girl,” Tou Ma said, her voice sharp once more as she grabbed hold of your wrist, “this is the last time I tell you to stay away from him.”

You looked the head servant dead in the eye.

“Then this will be the last time I defy you,” you answered, breaking free from her grasp and running out of the room.

You caught up with Minghao halfway up the stairs. You tugged at his sleeve and called his name, softly, inquiringly. He looked back at you, looking apologetic.

“I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you,” he said quietly, “you’re already hurt.” His eyes went to your cheek, where the sting of the arrow still lingered.

You sighed. “And I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.” You took his hand. “Hao, please,” you went on, “whatever happens, let’s do it together.”

Slowly, a smile formed on the new emperor’s lips. It failed to erase the pain in his reddened eyes but rather coated them in a temporary haze. His fingers tightened around yours and he whispered, “okay.”

“Where are we going?” you asked as you tiptoed through the castle, slipping from shadow to shadow.

“I know where he is,” Minghao replied.

You knew he was talking about the emperor of Yientan. You had no idea what he looked like but you’d overheard plenty of conversations about him during your time in the castle. He was a fierce ruler and a strong man of combat.

“Wait, you’re not going to fight him, are you?”

“No,” he replied, “I’m going to talk to him.”

The throne room looked smaller than usual. A pillar had fallen, dust and debris littered the usually shiny hardwood and on the golden throne sat, not Xu Yilan, but a younger-looking man. He was broad-shouldered and his dark hair fell in a single braid down to his waist. His black and silver armor was still spotless aside from the couple droplets of red that had splashed onto his chest. You almost couldn’t believe he was an emperor and not a war general. Xu Yilan had surely never fought like this. Judging by the tenacity in his eyes, he was enjoying this. Upon noticing Minghao he raised himself from the throne, eyes narrowing.

“Emperor Wu,” Minghao spoke up as he walked to the center of the room.

You decided to stay in the shadows for now. It was better for the Yientan leader not to know a second person was in the room.

“My father, Xu Yilan, is dead by your men’s hands.”

You had no idea how Minghao was keeping his emotions at bay but it was clearly a good thing. The man on the platform drew back, his eyes going wide.

“You,” he said in a gravely voice, “you are Xu Minghao?” He spoke loud and clear but was unable to hide his uneasiness. It was in the way he stood, overly square, and in the stark way his eyes stared ahead.

“I am,” Minghao said, “and I want you to listen to me for a moment.”

Silence. This was good.

“I do not want to fight you,” he went on, “I just want to talk. I want to restore the balance between Namin and Yientan.” He took a deep breath. “I want Yientan to give us back the highlands.”

A low yet booming laughter filled the empty throne room.

“You expect us to just give you back the highlands?” the emperor scoffed, “and what will Yientan receive in return?”

You watched Minghao as a silence trickled into the air. He was completely still, his mind probably racing like a warhorse.

“In return,” he said at last, his voice deep yet clear, “Yientan will be spared the dragon’s wrath.”

You could see the fear spring into the emperor’s eyes.

“You lie, young man,” he said, though it was obvious Minghao’s words had derailed him a bit. Slowly, the man unsheathed a long sword and pointed it at Minghao.

“There is no dragon,” he spat, starting to walk down the platform, “where is your dragon now, huh? Did it come when our people charged your gates? No, it did not.”

Minghao’s chest heaved but he stood his ground. You couldn’t understand how he stayed so calm. He had nothing to defend himself with.

“Did it come when your father was struck down by one of my men?” emperor Wu continued as he approached, “it did not.”

This was all wrong, you thought, panic taking over you.

“Up on the roof of this broken palace, a golden dragon stands, yes,” the emperor said, a wicked smile spreading onto his lips. He was getting too close.

“It is nothing but a symbol of wealth, a meaningless decoration!”

Minghao stood as a statue, defiant.

“It could not save your father, nor your people,” he grinned, “and it surely won’t save you.”

“Stop!” you screamed, breaking away from your hiding spot. Both men turned their heads in surprise, a moment you took to jump in between them, arms out, shielding Minghao from his attacker.

“Don’t hurt him, please!” you cried. You knew you were making foolish decisions but there wasn’t a single cell in your body capable of doing anything else in that moment.

Pain shot through your arm as general Wu grabbed hold of you.

“No!” Minghao yelled, immediately jumping for the general’s second arm in an attempt to tear the sword from his grasp. Your head spun as you were tugged around, the three of you in an awkward tangle until you heard a gasp that could only be Minghao’s. You watched him fall to the floor, clutching his side, where the fabric of his shirt started to color red.

You wanted to scream but before any sound had the chance to leave your lips, the whole room began to shake.

Emperor Wu backed towards the wall, dragging you with him and that’s when you heard it. An ear-piercing cry coming from somewhere up above. The ceiling cracked and gave away right where Minghao crouched. You cried out his name in a desperate attempt to save him when you realized the falling debris wasn’t crushing him. Instead, it turned to dust mid-fall, scattering over the floor like sand on a windy day.

Emperor Wu gave a startled shriek behind you. A massive creature burst through the broken ceiling with another deafening cry. It looked like a giant, glimmering snake with horns. Its fanged mouth was the size of two grown men and its golden scales reflected the devastation in the room. It curled itself around Minhao, who was still on hands and knees on the floor, obscuring him from view. “It— it’s— it can’t be!” the man behind you stuttered, shivering all over. You took the opportunity to yank yourself from his grasp.

The dragon let out a large huff and steam released from its dinner-plate-sized nostrils. You couldn’t help but feel a trickle of fear pulse through you as you approached the beast. But you had to trust.

The dragon’s body uncurled once more, revealing Minghao. He was standing; even more, he looked revitalized. A determent look had taken over his face. He stepped in front of the dragon and addressed the cowering emperor.

“As I said before,” he said, his voice strong and demanding now, “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want this war. Yientan and Namin can live in peace. Even better, we can make each other stronger.” He glanced at you and his eyes filled with warmth. “I know we are different but Namin will no longer fear those differences. It is by cooperating that we will learn and grow—”

The emperor scoffed. “And to achieve this peace of yours,” he grumbled, “I assume you want the highlands back?”

“They belong to Namin,” Minhao replied calmly.

“And what’s next?” emperor Wu went on, his pitch rising, “you’ll invade us with your big dragon protector and we’ll have to give up everything?!”

“No.” Minghao shook his head. “Namin doesn’t need any more. Just the highlands and harmony with Yientan. If you promise me these things, emperor Wu, this dragon will never be used for violence. It too can be a symbol of peace.”

The emperor of Yientan stood there, fighting a fight within himself. All you could do was wait. Minghao didn’t look scared anymore though. The dragon had taken his fear. The cold mask had vanished as well, leaving his eyes exactly the way you remembered them from years ago; kind, curious, inviting. Years of pressure had fallen off of his shoulders, allowing him to stand up straight and confident.

His gaze went to you for a moment and he reached out his hand.

Heart swelling with joy, you took it, feeling more than ever before, like you belonged.

Emperor Wu observed all of this with pain in his eyes. You still had no idea what the man was thinking but you felt safer now, so close to Minghao.

“Alright,” he said finally, starting to walk towards you, “you win, little emperor.” He shook his head in defeat. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about ruling and, mark my words, you will regret the things you’ve said today— all this talk about peace and harmony—” he stopped just a couple feet away from Minghao, “but at least for now, Yientan will bow to Namin.” He bent over into a ninety degree bow and Minghao let show just the tiniest smile. He was proud— and he should have been. You squeezed into his hand and felt him squeeze back when, all of a sudden, a lot of things happened.

Emperor Wu raised himself, drawing from a loop in his belt a tiny dagger and driving it into Minghao’s chest. At the same time, the dragon behind you let out a magnificent roar as it charged at Yientan’s emperor, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. All this time, you stood, frozen to the spot in complete and utter shock.

When you felt Minhao’s hand slip from yours, you cried out his name. You caught him as he staggered and the two of you landed with a soft thud on the floor. Panicked, your hands dove to his chest, looking for the stab wound as tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“Hey,” you heard someone say softly, vaguely but you didn’t have time now. You had to stop the bleeding.

Something took hold of your chin, lifting it. It was Minghao. He was smiling the sweetest smile and you didn’t understand.

“I’m okay,” he said, pulling aside his robes, revealing nothing but a light cut along his ribcage.

“Hao,” you sniffled as his thumb came to wipe away some of your tears.

“I’m okay,” he said again, nodding softly.

And so all the adrenaline fled your body. Without a second thought, you flung your arms around his neck and hugged him close. It was a hug such as you’d shared when you were children; one made of pure happiness. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You were still crying, sort of, but you were sure it was the good kind of crying.

A gentle hand landed on top of your head, patting it in a soothing manner. You took it all in, the feel of him, his scent, the way his heart beat against yours.

“Everything is gonna be alright now, right?” you mumbled into his chest.

You felt him sigh.

“I think so.”

The following days were some of the strangest of your entire life.

The emperor of Yientan wasn’t dead. The dragon had hit him pretty bad but it had ultimately left the decision up to Minghao. Minghao, who of course decided to have the foreign emperor nursed back to health by Namin’s finest doctors. He still believed that peace between the two lands was possible.

You and Minghao, along with all remaining castle staff, had temporarily moved into the castle gardens. Most of the garden staff huts had apparently been spared from the fight. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it was enough for the time being.

Not that you didn’t have any other options.

News of the attack and especially the return of the dragon had spread like wildfire through the cities and towns of Namin. Wealthy traders and investors offered their own residences in honor of the new legendary emperor but Minghao had turned them all down. He said he wanted to help rebuild the castle.

“Besides, I don’t know if I’m ready to face them yet.” Minghao’s face was contemplative as you two sat overlooking the rose garden from a hilltop.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

He leaned back onto his hands. “I don’t know,” he said, “I’m not ready to be their legend, truly this time. How am I supposed to— after my father.” He shook his head. “I’m no better than him. He was just a man and so am I.”

Up in the sky, the golden dragon trailed patterns in the afternoon clouds. It had fluttered around the gardens all day; a beacon of hope.

“I know I have a job to do but—” he said finally, “I still can’t help but feel like I’m losing something precious.”

You nodded, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “Things will be more complicated,” you admitted. It was true. You didn’t want to sugarcoat that for him. However, you weren’t worried.

“But you won’t be doing any of it alone.”

You could feel him start to smile as his arm slid around your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Your majesty,” a tense voice said.

It was Tou Ma. You were surprised to find you were happy to see her.

“We have received word from your mother. She will be coming home in a few days. The Zhong family meanwhile have arrived home this morning. They are well.”

Minghao nodded, his face stony but a lot going on behind his eyes.

“Should I send word back?”

“No,” Minghao was quick to answer but then he caught himself, “I think I’ll write Zhong Mei and her parents a letter myself. They deserve that.” He was frowning to himself now. “And tell my mother I’m sorry— and can’t wait for her arrival.”

“I will,” Tou Ma said solemnly, her eyes trailing off. She was searching for words.

“What is it?” Minghao questioned.

Tou Ma pursed her lips.

“He is awake.”

You followed Minghao to one of the larger huts in the garden, where emperor Wu was being treated. The room was bare, save for a bed and a night stand upon which stood a bowl of water and a clean cloth. A middle-aged lady in simple blue robes stood by his bed. The moment she noticed Minghao, she fell into a deep bow.

“That’s alright,” Minghao said, taking her hands as she rose, “thank you for your amazing work.”

The woman went red in the face but smiled brightly back at him.

The emperor of Yientan still suffered a few bruises, one below his left eye. You couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy around him so you watched Minghao approach from a distance.

“How are you feeling?” he asked the man in the bed.

Emperor Wu let out a heavy sigh as his eyes landed on Minghao.

“I’ve been better,” he said.

There was a silence you weren’t sure of the meaning of. Minghao seemed to be waiting.

“I’ve sat here for a while now, you know,” he went on, “been awake since sometime last night— in and out of it most likely— but I’ve been thinking.”

The man in the bed looked nothing like he had during the battle. He’d been full of fire then. Now, he had a depleted look about him.

“Do you know what I was thinking?”

Minghao shook his head softly.

To your surprise, the emperor of Yientan let out a chuckle. Maybe he really had suffered brain damage after all.

“I was thinking, why am I in this comfortable bed?” he snickered lowly, “I thought I might have died. Thought it might be the afterlife. But then I was informed of your decision to let me live. To let me go.” His face went sad suddenly, brows furrowed. He looked almost silly.

“I realized I admire you, your majesty. You chose to spare the life of the man who invaded your land and took it for his own, the man responsible for your father’s death, the man that might have been responsible for your own death—” he let out another chuckle. “I thought you must be either mad or genius— I, um— I’m still not truly certain which one it is but I can say one thing for sure: you’ve got more bravery in that little body of yours than I’ve seen in any ruler of my lifetime. And I have no choice but to respect that.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your hands were anxiously clutched in front of your chest.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Minghao said, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

Emperor Wu raised himself in the bed, took the cloth from the nightstand and wiped his face with it. When his face was revealed once more, he was smiling.

“Alright,” he said, looking up at Minghao, “let’s get this over with. Let’s talk.”

This is how Namin was restored. The highlands were returned and multiple treaties were formed between Namin and Yientan, promising peace and collaboration for all time to come.

Minghao hugged his mother close a few nights later, and a ceremony was held for the death of Xu Yilan. It was a sombre meeting in a nearby temple, the only other attendees aside from direct family the thousands of fireflies that lit up the air.

Then, finally, it was time to go public with everything that had happened. The coming of the legend emperor had to be celebrated and the people of Namin were not going to let that opportunity go to waste. Banners were raised, fireworks set off, as a magnificent parade made its way through the capital.

Throughout all this, you found yourself completely overwhelmed, not only because so much was happening at once, but also because Minghao wanted you to be a part of it all.

“Are you alright?” Minghao whispered into your ear.

You hardly knew how to respond to that. You were sitting in a luxurious golden carriage, wearing the most beautiful silk you’d ever laid eyes on. Layers of pale pinks and greens, adorned with gold thread fell from your shoulders. Your hair had been elegantly put together by Tou Ma herself that morning, with flowers and ribbons she’d handpicked for you. If all that wasn’t enough to make your heart do cartwheels, Minghao, the new emperor of Namin sat beside you, holding your hand while he waved at the people cheering. And there were a lot of people around you. It seemed as if all of Namin had come out to watch the procession. You weren’t as confident as Minghao, darting your hand up occasionally to wave at the public, only to change your mind the next second and put it back down.

“I’m terrified,” you replied, “ecstatic and overjoyed and terrified.”

“That sounds about right,” he said, grinning, “but don’t worry, we’ll be there soon.”

Surely enough, the procession halted in the main square of the capital. A tall platform had been put up in the center of it. As you’d expected, your carriage opened its doors right beside it. It was time for Minghao to give his speech. With one last smile in your direction he left for the platform. You watched him breath in and out, visibly shaking the nerves out of his body before he began.

“People of Namin,” he spoke loud and clear, “in the last week, a lot of things have happened and rumors have run rampant. I believe you all deserve to know exactly what has happened at the castle and what this means for the future of Namin.”

You looked in complete awe and adoration, as Minghao explained the events of the past weeks and even before that; the protests, the arrival of the Zhong family and their plans, the attack, death of Xu Yilan and finally, the legend of the dragon.

“It is true,” Minghao said, “the dragon lives once more.”

Just then, a bright glimmer fell all over the square and the people squinted upwards to see the golden dragon fly overhead.

“It will protect Namin for as long as I live and hopefully longer.”

The crowd erupted in jubilant cheers. Minghao took this opportunity to look back at you. You were suddenly highly aware of the ridiculously wide grin that had been plastered on your face ever since he’d begun his speech. He returned it gladly and, to your surprise, beckoned you to join him onto the platform.

Your eyes went the size of daisies as you vigorously shook your head at him. He only smiled kindly at you and turned back around as the commotion had died down mostly.

“My dear people, it has been a glorious day!” he yelled “but I have one more announcement to make.”

This turned the whole crowd silent.

“Throughout the challenges of the past week I have had to be strong. In order for the dragon to arise, I’ve had to be strong. I’m the true leader, I’m Namin’s hope, I am a legend come to life— I’ve been hearing these types of statements all around and I would like to say that, while your praise is appreciated, I fear I’m not entirely deserving—”

“There’s a reason I’ve been able to be strong. There’s a reason I’ve been able to keep my head on the right track, there’s a reason I feel like I can be a worthy leader to you all and it is a reason entirely outside of myself.”

He turned back around to face you. Your face went hot when you realized he was actually coming down to fetch you. He took your hand, gave you the most loving smile and pulled you up.

Everything looked simultaneously tiny and overwhelming from up on the platform. Luckily you had Minghao holding onto your hand or you for sure would’ve fainted.

“I can be the leader I am because of this woman,” he said, “she has been the one thing that’s grounded me in all of this and if it hadn’t been for her, I’m not sure I’d be standing here making this speech today.”

Your heart was pounding out of control and you felt lightheaded. You were grateful when Minghao’s arm slid around your waist and steadied you.

“On this special day, we celebrate the resilience and rebirth of Namin,” Minghao stated confidently, “but I would also like to use this day to profess my undying love for the girl standing beside me.”

A sea of murmurs welled up from the crowd. Minghao came to face you again and suddenly, he looked less like an emperor and more like the boy you’d always known.

“I’ve always loved you,” he said quietly, “it’s always been you.” His hand came to hold your face gently. “I know the life I lead from now on will be full of challenges and responsibilities, it will be a life in the spotlight, maybe—” he sighed, “maybe nothing like the life you’d imagined for yourself but—” he was really searching for words now, his eyes darting in all directions until they finally landed back on yours.

“If you’ll have me, I would love for you to share that life with me.”

It was as if a collection of fireworks set off inside of you, shooting from the top of your head all the way down to your toes, setting you aflame. It was an overload of feelings. You didn’t even notice the tear trickling down your cheek until Minghao wiped it away.

“So, will you?” he asked, looking like he might collapse from nerves as well now.

The smile burst free from its own accord as the reality of the situation finally sank in.

“Yes, of course!” you let out and your arms flung themselves around Minghao’s neck.

Now the people of Namin were really cheering, their noise like drums in your head as you embraced Minghao. Even when you broke apart the cheering didn’t stop; it only grew wilder as Minghao pressed his lips to yours.

In all your life you’d never thought this would be yours. Even as a child you’d known that Minghao, your playmate wasn’t to be wanted. He was different, above others, untouchable, and for years you’d struggled to come to terms with that grim fact. And yet here he was, in front of you and all of Namin, telling you he loved you. It was the beginning of a new era for Namin and it seemed that its residents were ready for change. And you were more than certain Minghao was the right person to lead the people with justice and, above all, love.

♥

#minghao #minghao fluff #the8 #the8 fluff #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #prince au #prince minghao #minghao imagines #minghao scenarios #xu minghao #royal au #minghao x reader #minghao x you #seventeen fluff #series #fluff #angst #thank you

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

Let the Dead Weep | Jimin

→ summary: jimin falls in love the only way he knows how: catastrophically. your heart ends up as collateral damage.

→ genre: royal guard!jimin, princess!reader, angst → warnings: jimin is cold-hearted but only because he’s afraid, jungkook tries his Best to pick up the pieces, heart ache city babey! → words: 5.6K → a/n: this was commissioned by the wonderful @kookiebunnii!! thanks again for giving me the freedom to write my own wips (this is admittedly Very old... so old that i almost forgot this existed in my drafts lol) i hope you like it bc this one is prime zee angst propaganda... sorry jimin but i had to do it to ya (again)

The sound of clicking heels is an unusual occurrence at the royal training grounds. Accustomed to the cacophony of grunting men and clashing swords, Prince Jungkook does not immediately notice that something (or rather, someone) is out of place.

“Your defenses are down.” Jungkook thrusts his sword forward, disarming his sparring partner in one smooth motion. Surprised, his partner yelps as his sword clatters to the ground, his now empty hands raised awkwardly in befuddlement. But his shock does not last long, as his previously occupied gaze returns to where it was, his jaw agape as he continues to stare somewhere just outside the courtyard.

When Jungkook turns his head to the source, he finally understands why he had so easily defeated his distracted opponent.

Your bright white summer dress stands out starkly against the dreary autumn scenery, your skirt bunched up to your knees to avoid tripping over yourself. It seems as though the world has gone still from shock, every man in the vicinity holding their breaths at their first glimpse of the princess from up close. Even from where he stands, Jungkook can see the sweat flowing freely from your temples as you rush towards them, your chest heaving as you dash past dozens of starstruck onlookers towards your destination.

You don’t even spare Jungkook a glance when you pass by him, your eyes trained somewhere behind him as though nothing (or rather, no one) else in the courtyard matters. “Jimin!” you call out, nearly collapsing onto the man you had been looking for as you fail to stop your momentum in time. Luckily, the head of the royal guard catches you effortlessly, his hand previously resting on the hilt of his sword jumping up to find its place on your waist to steady you.

Jungkook watches as Jimin’s gaze sweeps through the sea of heads before landing on him. The guard’s posture stiffens, jaw clenching as the two men size each other up. Eventually, Jimin drops his hand from your waist as if he’d been burned, taking an inconspicuous step back to regain some sort of respectable distance.

Jimin clears his throat, his expression as stern as ever. It only takes a single glare from him for the excited whispers to die in a second. “Well? Did I tell you to stop? Take your positions,” he growls. In an instant, the men around Jungkook rise back to action, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing loudly once more.

“Your Highness? Shall we continue?” The boy he had been sparring with speaks out hesitantly, breaking Jungkook’s trance. Jungkook blinks slowly in confusion, before remembering where he was and what he was doing. He takes one last glance at Jimin’s and your retreating forms, only managing to glimpse the trail of your skirt as Jimin quickly drags you away from prying eyes.

“Your Highness?” the boy repeats, more nervously this time. Jungkook fixes a smile on his face before turning to face him, gently patting the young boy on the shoulder with the ease and charisma only a prince could manage.

“Yes, let’s continue. On your guard,” Jungkook warns, poising his sword forward before taking the first strike.

x x x x x

Jimin drags you away to the nearby armory, causing a domino of shields to topple down in his haste to open the door. He shuts it closed, not bothering to find a light as he pulls you deeper into the large shed. Only the small window by the roof sheds any light for them to see, but it’s enough for you to see the barely concealed annoyance set in Jimin’s eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking? That was highly inappropriate for a princess,” he growls, lips downturned in a frown. He might be well-known amongst his men as a stern and unforgiving captain, but he has never been gruff with you. In any other scenario, you might have been shocked at his sudden change of face, but the news that you just heard from your father is still ringing loudly in your ears, distracting you from anything else.

“What am I thinking? I should be asking you that! How is it that despite being the princess of this damn kingdom, I am still the last to know anything around here?” you shriek, ignoring Jimin’s silent pleas for you to quiet down. No, you are done being quiet; if you had to choose a moment to you would throw away all etiquette classes out the window, it would be now.

Jimin heaves a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, interrupting him. You hold up a finger when he makes a move to argue. “No, you answer my questions, first and foremost. Why did I only find out from my father just now that you volunteered to get stationed at the border?” You can feel your face heating up from the frustration and betrayal you feel; blood rushes up to your head and leaves you feeling dizzy, but you refuse to stop until he budges.

You’re breathing heavily, speaking so quickly that you doubt you’re making any sense right now. “The king requested for volunteers to fill the station guard units over a month ago. We’ve met and seen each other multiple times since then, and yet here we are,” you spit out, jabbing a nail into his chest. He barely budges, only keeping his head lowered. “Huh? Why on earth would you keep this from me? Answer me, Park Jimin!”

Jimin grimaces, his face contorting as if he’s in pain. He does not make a move to reply, only continues to avoid your fierce gaze. But even from where you stand under this dim light, you can tell from his expression that he isn’t guilty—just forlorn. Heartbroken, even.

You swallow thickly, blinking rapidly to keep your angry tears at bay, but your voice still cracks when you ask, “Why won’t you say anything?”

Finally, he looks at you. “What else is there to say?” He sounds as defeated as you feel.

And yet, you’re flabbergasted. You’re angry, tired, and hysterical—but above all else, you’re hurt. It feels as though a massive rock has dropped in your stomach, crashing waves against your chest like fire licking at your bones. The heavy feeling that has been weighing on you finally has a name, as you have been fighting to ignore what it was for ages now. Deep down, you know that this is inevitable, but somewhere inside you still resides the six-year-old child entrenched in her happy fairy tales, the same girl who believes that good things will always happen to good people.

You hoped that you would have at least deserved a warning. Preparation before this mirage disappeared forever. But Jimin had always been the type to rip the bandage and muscle through the pain, so you shouldn’t have been surprised at all. You just hoped that the two of you would still have more time.

A naive thing to desire, as Park Jimin was never yours to call your own.

You’re struggling to find the words to speak, anything to convince him to stay, even if you know it is not your place. He can see you grappling for straws, and perhaps it is out of pity or self-preservation, but he does not mention it. He does not say anything about you at all.

Eventually, he speaks. “I am… I have to...” He hesitates for a moment, taking one short glance at you before staring at the door. His hand grips the hilt of his sword tightly, though you know it is not because he itches to wield it, but for his ease of mind. You have learned, after years of growing up with him, that his only comfort comes from his own strength, his own ability to control his fate.

“Unfortunately, I must leave for now, Your Highness. Let us speak about this later before my subordinates begin to wonder.” There is a heaviness in his tone when he says that, like it is disgraceful for you to be seen with him. It reignites the fire in your veins once more, and you reflexively reach out to grab his retreating shoulder before the shed is suddenly bathed in light.

“Princess Y/N? Are you alright?” Prince Jungkook stands by the entrance of the armory, sweaty hair matted to his skin from his morning practice routine. For a moment, you almost hate the way he had sounded so… well-meaning, even though he had done nothing wrong to spite you. In fact, Jeon Jungkook has always been the perfect filial son, someone any royal family would be proud of.

And unfortunately for you, that was quite possibly the only reason you were betrothed to him in the first place.

You see him eye the pair of you curiously, his gaze gradually coming to a stop where your hand still rests against Jimin’s shoulder. You retract it immediately as if burned. You clear your throat, curtsying respectfully to him. “I am fine, Prince Jungkook. I am sorry for the scene I caused. I hope I did not interrupt your daily practice,” you say carefully, folding your hands in front of you.

Jungkook nods silently, his expression giving nothing away. Feeling awkward under his scrutiny, you curtsy to him once more. You shuffle away from Jimin without sparing him another glance, but you feel his gaze trained on your back like a brand. You wait for Jungkook to allow you to pass him before scuttling away, the ends of your dress dragging across the dirt path as you rush back towards the castle.

Stupid of you.

Jimin had been right, like always. News spreads fast within these ancient walls, and the chatterings about your emotional display are sure to reach your father’s ears one way or another. You doubt he’d be surprised by it; it’s no secret that your affections have always lied heavily on the royal guardsman. As long as you kept your secret rendezvous a secret, the King is more than happy to turn a blind eye. A reward, perhaps, for keeping your side of the deal.

Except that side of the deal hadn’t meant to arrive until your older brother had been wed, right after his search for his queen consort had been completed. But Jungkook’s family had been adamant to move things along, most likely due to their desperation to form an alliance with your prominent kingdom. As the seventh son, Jungkook hardly had any use for them in their household other than being goods for barter, and in any other case, you might have felt bad for him.

The guilt feels like a dagger pressing itself against your throat, and yet, you do not have the courage to fight against it. You sigh, defeated, as you stay reclused in your bedroom, waiting for Jimin to join you.

You don’t join your family for lunch that afternoon: a bigger mistake on your part, as it probably incriminates you further. Even worse still, Jungkook and his escorts are guests at the palace, and your absence doesn’t look good for your reputation. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to care that day, only offering weak excuses about a headache to appease them.

To your surprise, Jungkook had vouched for you, according to your handmaiden. When you asked what he said, they said he had mentioned something about your pensiveness from this morning. You scoff, wondering if he must be covering your mistake for the sake of your future together.

The sun makes its way across the horizon and still no signs of Jimin visiting your quarters. You pace your room for so long that you fear leaving the carpet threadbare, your restlessness causing spikes of fear to trickle down your spine. Your entire body tingles with the need to do something, anything. Just to feel as though you still have some control, some sense of sanity.

By your dresser, your untouched violin sits, waiting forlornly for your hands to caress it once more. It is a gift from your mother for your birthday, though you have scarcely used it since then. You have always been talented with the violin, but the need to play it had died down once your days had been occupied with a different type of music—the sort of melodies that you could not pull from strings or brass.

You pluck the violin from its stand, the polished wood still smelling of varnish when you place it by your neck. You begin to play a piece from memory—a song that your tutor had once drilled into your head until your hands could move on their own. Even still, you love the piece with all your heart; the melancholy and longing of the notes resonate deeply within you.

You know that what you are doing is cruel, both to yourself and to him. With your window wide open, you are sure that the wind can carry your music to the royal offices, where Jimin is sure to hear it. Anyone would be able to tell that it is you playing, stringing note after note with hopeless abandon. Just to get a reaction, from anyone. Anything!

So deeply are you immersed in your playing that it takes a moment for you to notice the knocking. Your bow stills mid-way, your breath hitching when the knocking continues. “Just a moment,” you call out, hastily placing your violin back on your dresser before ripping open the door to find—

Prince Jungkook still has his hand poised to knock, not having anticipated you to open your door so quickly. “Oh, pardon me. I am so sorry to intrude on your playing. Have I come at a bad time?”

Your shoulders slacken, and your disappointment could not be more apparent. “Oh.”

Prince Jungkook smiles wryly, not appearing to be offended by your less than enthusiastic greeting. “I know that it is improper of me to ask, but could you invite me into your quarters for a moment? I would like to speak to you, if you would allow it.”

“Why would it be improper? We’re promised to each other anyway,” you reply bitterly, the words coming out before you can think twice.

Jungkook cringes, bowing his head sadly. “I suppose that is a bad thing, isn’t it?”

It is impossible not to feel bad after that, your face flushing deeply with shame. “Not exactly…” You offer an awkward smile to compensate, but you doubt that it reaches your eyes. You step aside, allowing him to enter. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

His long legs allow him to take only two strides to reach the center of your room, his large frame engulfing the space. It almost feels suffocating, being here with him. Your mind unhelpfully compares him to the other only man who has ever entered your room, a man who had a much more lithe figure to the one with you right now.

You notice how he scans your room with sharp eyes, how he locks onto your violin immediately. He moves towards it and makes a motion as if to hold it, and after you give him your permission, he picks it up with reverence, turning it over with meticulous grace. “I was not aware that you were so gifted with musical talent,” he murmurs, plucking the strings experimentally.

You shrug, leaning against your door. “It was never brought up during our dinner conversations.” Not that much was said between the two of you during your meals together, as your father seems more interested in learning about Jungkook’s competency in politics than what his hobbies are.

He nods, absent-minded. He returns the violin to its proper place, his touch featherlike and graceful. He might be a violinist himself, you think. “That piece you were just playing… What was it called?”

A common question. “It’s a traditional song based on one of the kingdom’s myths,” you reply easily.

He nods again. “Why were you playing it?”

A less common question, one that you find more difficult to answer. “It… happened to be the first one I thought of, I suppose.” A half-truth, at the very least.

He hums thoughtfully, turning to you with doleful eyes. “Then I suppose that you must be grieving, are you not? if that is the sort of song that first comes to mind.”

You’re immediately defensive, curling into yourself as you watch him suspiciously. “My father… He told you, didn’t he?”

Even though you do not expound on what you mean, the prince is quick to shake his head in denial. “Nothing my eyes have not already seen.”

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, hackles rising as you size him up. “What do you want from me then? A confession? For me to go on my knees and ask for forgiveness?” you spit.

He stares at you, astonished. “Who am I to dole out absolution when I am but only a man?”

“So does that mean you have committed the same mistakes that I have? I find that hard to believe,” you scoff, lowering your guard in your annoyance. He’s only been in your room for a few minutes and already you tire of his company; you wonder how you’ll manage to keep your sanity while spending your life with him.

But in truth, even if he hadn’t irritated you, even if he was the nicest man in the world, he would never compare to the man you have already laid your heart with.

He shakes his head once more, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Not quite, but I do understand what you’re going through. Somewhat.”

Somewhat, he says. The more you observe him, the more you realize how young he is. Not just in the way he appears, but also in the way he talks and moves, almost like the stars trapped in his eyes have yet to escape. You can imagine him falling for one of the servant girls back in his own palace, secretly swapping lovelorn gazes across polished halls. Unlike you, he must not have acted on his greed, knowing the extent of his responsibility to his house and kingdom.

Unlike you, he does not bear a cruel bone in his body, as he would never subject that poor girl to the sort of heartbreak that only a clandestine relationship could offer.

“I want to make myself clear to you, my princess. I did not come here to accuse you of anything. I came here because I wanted to make myself clear with you,” he says. You raise a brow, urging him to continue.

“I am not asking you to fall in love with me,” he says plainly. It surprises you greatly, to hear him speak so candidly. Ever the perfect politician, he’d only ever spoken with care and precision, always anticipating the other party’s reaction. You have spoken with enough visiting royals to know that he is well-versed in that sort of language, so to hear him speak so brazenly is almost refreshing.

“I wouldn’t have offered, regardless,” you respond, smirking sardonically. He laughs at that, and you can hear the honesty in his laughter, too.

“Fair. But for the sake of the people who put their faith in us, I would suggest,” he pauses, licking his lips as he mulls over his next words, “that we might be sincere with one another. Just so our union may not perish… prematurely.”

You don’t respond, scanning him for any ill intent. As a princess from an illustrious kingdom, you have needed to stave off numerous lords and princes from taking your hand for their own wicked gain. However, none of your previous suitors were like Prince Jungkook, who genuinely seemed to care greatly for his people, as seen by how kindly he has treated his entourage of helpers.

He waits for you to say something, but eventually, he continues, “Princess Y/N, it would be the greatest honor if you would allow me to know you better. I seek nothing more than your companionship.” He blushes slightly, coughing into his fists. “W-well, not that you owe me that, as we could very well live separately for the rest of our lives, but... Umm… That came out a little more awkward than I intended, but I hope you get the gist.”

You realize, then, that he desires to live peacefully with you—guilelessly and unselfishly. Perhaps he is doing this for his parents (highly likely), or perhaps he has no other choice (extremely likely). But the fact remains that in front of you stands a good man with a simple wish: to become friends with you, if not at least become amicable with one another.

“Then I suppose you want to know more about me? About my story?” you ask sarcastically. “Want to know why the eldest daughter of the king is off frolicking with the captain of his guard?”

Jungkook snorts, an easy smile on his lips. “Well, you could tell me that, but I was thinking more along the lines of ‘when did you learn to play the violin?’ and other neutral information. You know, like how normal people converse.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he had been making fun of you. “Hey, watch it, princeling. You’re not in the clear just yet,” you huff, but there is no bite to your bark. You can tell that he knows this, from the way his tense figure has relaxed tremendously in this short amount of time. You notice your own tension fading away too, if only infinitesimally.

“I can start if you want,” he hums, tapping a finger on his chin as he thinks. “Well, I have always wanted to tell you this, but you might think I might be buttering your ass if I did, pardon the language—”

You laugh loudly, baffled by his seemingly out-of-nowhere casual demeanor. In your bedroom, with his shoulders slackened and hair still disheveled from his morning practice, he looks nothing like the perfect prince you had boxed him in as. “Pardoned,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“—but I’ve always found your tenacity to be admirable. Your dedication to your people, evidenced by your tireless work to make their lives better, has always struck me as inspirational. Pardon the cliché, but you really aren’t like other girls,” he says.

You wave off his compliments. “By the sounds of it, you must have this line practiced to perfection. Don’t tell me this is what you say to the other princesses when you confess to them.”

He flushes darkly, stuttering at your brash comment. The sight makes you snort, only worsening his embarrassment. “I have, um, never confessed to anyone before…”

“I find that hard to believe. Sure, you might not be like me—” you say drily. You haven’t sentenced your own life to heartache and misfortune, is what you mean to say. The pang in your chest comes back with a vengeance, but you carry on. “—but I would imagine that you’ve had to sweet talk many princesses before me. I was not your parents’ first choice, was I?”

“Indeed,” he admits awkwardly. “But I am not completely powerless. My father had allowed me some freedom when choosing a bride, and I…” he trails off, swallowing nervously. He gestures to you vaguely, unwilling to keep eye contact as he does.

You gape at him, pointing to yourself. “You… You chose me? Why?”

“It’s exactly as I said,” he shrugs. “I read about the things you’ve done, and I was drawn to you. It seems that my freedom has indirectly caused your misery, however…” he says ashamedly.

Guilt coils up you for the umpteenth time that day, except now it is directed at the boy in front of you. Foolish of you to think that your actions only affected you and your lover. Foolish of you to believe that your actions don’t have consequences bigger than you might have imagined.

“It… is not your fault,” you grit out, though it pains you to say. Not because it is a lie, but rather, it is a painful truth: a pill you have finally been forced to swallow. “My recklessness has caused more wreckage than I would have imagined.”

“I must admit that I have always been in love with the concept of love,” he says. He scratches the back of his neck, shyly turning away from you. “I believe that while love comes in all different shapes and sizes, it is certainly never supposed to be cruel. It is never selfish or… painful.”

Your eyes narrow, fully understanding his implications. “Then you must be as naive as you appear,” you snarl. You step away from the doorway, making your way towards the prince until your chests were merely a breath apart. However, he doesn’t back away like you thought he would. He stands his ground, looking at you through his long lashes.

“You wouldn’t understand. Have you ever loved someone so deeply that even the thought of being apart wounds you? Have you ever stayed awake at night, listening carefully to the sound of your own beating heart, aching for someone you cannot have? It is an ache, Jungkook, that cannot be salved with pretty words and sentiments. It is not a choice,” you finish, vision growing blurry with unshed tears. But you refuse to let them fall, not for a boy who didn’t know better.

His gaze is level with your own, his breathing steady. His eyes look dark to you, no longer sparkling like they once did. But before you can blink, the darkness is gone, replaced with his carefully crafted neutrality. The princely politician makes his return, except he’s a little sadder. Disappointed, even. “No, I have not experienced any of that. I cannot say for certain what is true, but I have always thought that love should be gentle and kind. Something to be enjoyed, and not a cause of strife.”

He steps away from you, his footsteps light as he makes his way to the door. When he twists the doorknob, he stills for a moment. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N. Don’t… keep hurting yourself, okay? A lot of people care for you, even if they don’t say it. Even if it doesn’t seem that way.”

You bark out a laugh, but it sounds watered down to your ears. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me already.”

He smiles at you, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs before bidding you farewell.

You’re left alone again, and your room feels significantly more hollow. Your entire body is vibrating, filled with an unidentifiable feeling swirling in your chest like a hurricane. Was it anger? Frustration? Hopelessness? Guilt? Perhaps an ungodly concoction of all four?

You feel nauseous, almost falling over from the strength of it. Everything about today has caused you to lose your hold on your sanity, the urge to scream in anguish becoming more unbearable by the second.

Love should be gentle and kind, he said. Despite how sweet his intentions, his words still feel like poison. How dare he say that to you, when he knows that you wish it was true?

You grab your violin by the neck, your violent grip causing the wood to creak. Your hands shake, tears freely falling into the sea of your self-pity.

You drag your bow harshly against the strings, striking a sound louder than your own frustrated cry. A few of the hairs snap, but you continue, playing like a madwoman possessed. The music is frantic, agonizing—goosebumps trail your skin unprompted. Your pain overflows until even the dead can hear you weep.

Your violin almost drowns out the sound of another knock at your door. “Go away,” you growl, playing more fiercely. The violin groans, as if in pain. “If you’ve come back to lecture me about love again—”

“Your Highness,” a softer voice responds. It’s not Jungkook like you had thought. “It’s Jimin.”

Even if he had not announced himself, you would have known just by his footsteps. You freeze, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. You swipe a hand across your cheek in a futile attempt to hide away the evidence. Even without a mirror, you know that your eyes are puffy and bloodshot.

He enters without your prompting: comfortable enough to invade your space as if he had not torn your heart to pieces just hours ago. His gaze immediately goes to your face, a staggered breath leaving his lungs when he sees your hollow expression. But that moment of weakness disappears in an instant, the same stoic captain from this morning reappearing right in front of you.

“Had you been expecting someone else?” he asks in place of a greeting. There is an edge to his tone, you notice. If you didn’t know better, you might have missed it. Jealousy. How dare he.

You squint at him, but you say nothing. The air is icy with tension, enough to freeze hell twice over.

He clears his throat. “I’ve come to apologize, your Highness. It was out of line for a royal guard such as myself to drag you so brusquely like that. It will not happen again,” he murmurs.

You can hear the hidden meaning buried in his words. It won’t happen again, because I won’t be here to do it.

“Is that all you have to say?” you whisper. You place your violin down carefully, but your vision is already turning blurry once more. You won’t cry in front of him. You refuse to be the only one hurt from this.

He sighs, as if worn by your childish antics. “Y/N, you don’t understand—”

When he calls you by your name, the fraying string inside of you snaps. “Save it,” you seethe. “You’re a coward, that’s what you are. There isn’t anything to understand.”

“No, you should understand,” Jimin steps forward, grabbing you by the shoulders. He shakes you, desperation hanging off every inch of his frame. “As a princess, you should know what it means to serve the people. You should know more than anyone about the oaths I made to this kingdom. You should be proud of me!”

His increasing volume only encourages you to match him, your throat nearly getting torn in two from how loudly you shout. “Cut the patriotic act! Do you think I’ve forgotten all the whispers you’ve planted in my head? About how you wished more than anything to work with your brothers as performers, how you wished you hadn’t been the breadwinner of your family just so you wouldn’t have to sell your strength to my father?”

“I was naive. I should have known it was my responsibility,” he counters.

“Then what about all the promises you made to me during our nights together? You swore to love me forever under starry nights and disheveled sheets. You said you’d run away with me, just so I wouldn’t have to marry anyone else!”

Jimin grits his teeth. “Meer words of comfort. The babblings of a child.”

You shove him away, your skin burning from where he touched you. “Then actions must speak louder than words, correct? You cannot hide from me when your lovemaking spoke volumes. ”

For once, it seems Park Jimin is at a loss for words. He clenches his fists by his side, looking utterly defeated. “Y/N… You know that it’s the right thing to do.”

“I don’t,” you mumble, lips trembling. “I really don’t.”

“Even so,” Jimin says. He lifts a finger, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “It is better that I make the choice than you.”

Better that he breaks your heart than you. “We… we could’ve found another way,” you croak, helpless.

Jimin only smiles sadly. “The prince… He is a good man. I have been watching him these past few weeks and I know that he will—” his voice catches, and he has to pause for a moment to regain his composure. “He will make a good match for you. It would be wrong for us to…”

It pains you to admit it, but he’s right. Jungkook doesn’t deserve your infidelity. And yet, even if Jimin were to leave, would you ever be wholly Jungkook’s anyway? What would be the difference, if your heart will continue to yearn for another man regardless?

“Tell me this, then. For once, spare me from your half-truths. Drive the final nail into my coffin so that I know that you are truly certain.” You force him to look you directly in the eye, his pupils shaking as he takes you in for what might be his last time. It is almost as if time had stopped, and only the two of you existed in this space. This bedroom that you called your haven, the place where you had fallen in love—the place that will witness your first heartache.

“If our lives could have been different, would you have loved me then?”

Jimin has never looked so weary, so different from the boisterous boy you had met all those years ago. “I’m sure… that I would’ve done what was best. For the greater good.”

“And does that greater good include us? How do we fit in that equation?”

But he only steps away, his hand still outstretched as if to hold you. Then, he slowly tucks it behind him, his posture straightening the way a guard should. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he says, the note of finality ringing loud and clear.

He pries open the door, hesitating only for one more moment before chancing one last glance at you. “Tomorrow… I leave with my men. I would appreciate it if you don’t come.”

The door closes, and your question remains unanswered.

Just like him, the empty silence of your room refuses to respond, no matter how many times you ask.

Because in the sanctity of your bedroom, no promises ever did hold. The Park Jimin you loved was never real in the first place, and no matter how much you slam your fists and stomp your feet, he’s never going to love you the way you want him to.

And there you stand, all by your lonesome, without the prying gazes of those who expect better of you. Gruesomely, and painfully you.

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bubmyg · 3 years

Text

there was no particular reason i wrote all this down other than reading the translations to my universe made me cry last week because i’m just Like this. this is a mini compilation of yoongi lyrics that i hold gently in my palm and close to my heart in a he’s my artist for life kind of way. these aren’t all my favorite yoongi lyrics, i certainly have more but not ones that fit this general vibe.

this is like extremely disorganized, i kind of just wrote it like a journal (and i’ll probably copy it to my bullet journal at some point actually). interpretations are my own, music is cool in that we can all read and hear the same thing and get different things out of it (which is why yoongi has often said he doesn’t attach specific meaning to things, giving it up to the listener instead)

so yeah. here’s me being fond of yoongi in 4k for no reason other than. idk. i wanted to. all translations are from doyoubangtan and doolsetbangtan.

song request - lee sora ft suga

“I’ll be with you, for your birth and your end; That you’d remember that I’m with you, wherever you are; I’ll be a comfort for your life at any time, and so; please, that you’d lean on me and take a rest, every once in awhile.”

to me, this perfectly encapsulates what creating music is for yoongi in a two-fold kind of way. not only does he want his music to be a source of comfort for those who listen to it (just as the art of music is for himself), he’s also consistent in his assurance that taking a rest is okay. not being okay is okay. simply existing for the time being is okay. it’s a gentle empathy that comes from the experienced heart of someone who’s not going to tell you that it is okay, but will tell you that it won’t always be like this. friendly little moon trying to get you to smile with him on sleepless nights.

so far away - agust d ft suran

dream, will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships

this was on my undergrad graduation cap. it’s one of my favorite lyrics of all time. if so far away is my heart song, this is my heart lyric. this is a common motif in yoongi’s lyrics; dormancy is only temporary, you will bloom at the end of the cold winter.

dream, hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life

creation to end is another common motif n his lyrics. in this specific context, i imagine it to most closely be analogous to holding dreams close to you your entire life. dreams are dreams no matter how they manifest, even if they’re simply something you long for until your “end”.

Hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life; It will be generous to you wherever you stand; It will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships; The beginnings will seem humble, so prosperous will the future be

the entirety of this song reads like a story and this last refrain reads like the conclusion (kind of). the slight wording change from the previous choruses means a lot in that regard, more definite and firm. you will be okay. maybe not now, maybe not next week. but you will be.

suga’s interlude - halsey ft suga

Though the dawn before sunrise is darkest; don’t forget the stars you longed for only rise in the darkness

just a really pretty but heart wrenching lyric in the context of the entire song. he’s also used this metaphor several times. i love me a good string of consistency with minor adaptations to fit the vibe. this song also made me cry the first time i read the translations lmao.

my universe - coldplay ft bts

Because the trial we face now is just for a moment anyway; All you have to do is to just keep shining bright like now; And we will follow you, embroidering this long night

this could mean so many things depending on how you wanted to contextualize it. of course the song is about love, so you could view it in that way. we’re in the midst of a global pandemic where we can’t see each other. or maybe it’s simply existence. continue to exist and one day your bright light will be followed even in the darkest of nights.

also the og title of telepathy being 잠시 (for a moment) is so...min yoongi you are so cool

people - agust d

Did someone say humans are the animals of wisdom?; The way I see it, humans are the animals of regret

Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries; Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries

super simple to understand which i think makes it more poignant. especially if you contextualize it with everything he’s said or written regarding the plight of fame and how he himself grapples with it as min yoongi.

28 - agust d ft niihwa

just this whole song. if song request encapsulates yoongi’s musical ethos, this captures a lot of his general musings.

paradise - bts

Just living like this, surviving like this, that’s my small dream; Dreaming dreams, grasping dreams, breathing breaths, it’s often too much

a more blunt take on the simply existing is a good enough dream. yoongi’s 2018 new years message was one of the things that made me go “yes. Him™” so paradise is very <3 for me

interlude: shadow - bts

Flying high scares me; I mean, nobody had told me; how lonely it is here –;how my leap could be my fall

another thing he uses frequently, even as recently as an interview regarding permission to dance. the contemplation of how a fall is far scarier than landing because getting back up is uncertain.

Yeah, I’m you and you’re me, do you finally get that now?; Yeah, you’re me and I’m you, do you finally get that now?

the entirety of this song is haunting particularly paired with the sampling and the music video as a visual but this part is just...the whole idea of competing internal voices throughout the narrative of the song or if you’d rather truly treat the lyrics like a piece of literature, you have quite the unreliable narrator, one that’s trying to grapple with his own sense of self.

140503 at dawn - agust d

Pretending that I’m not lonely, pretending that I’m not suffering; needlessly pretending that I’m okay, and pretending hard that I’m strong; I built a wall in front of me, “Don’t come inside”; I’m an island in this wide ocean, “Don’t abandon me”

the entirety of agust d just makes me ache but i mainly pulled this part because he uses the island metaphor consistently. here, it’s used like i said before; achingly.

this song also gets overlooked a lot in the larger context of agust d but anyway

eight - IU ft suga

Island, yeah this is an island; a small island that we made for each other; Yeah, mm, forever young, the word ‘forever’ is a sandcastle; A farewell is just like an emergency text warning of a disaster; A morning met together with yearning; As each of us pass this eternity, we’re sure to meet again on this island

can i be honest and say i forgot this song came out at the beginning of the pandemic. anyway, if you haven’t heard the various times that jieun has spoke about this song and it’s conveyance, i encourage you to. the music video also gives a beautiful visual.

i wrote a small analysis of this when it came out so i’ll just put it here

burn it - agust d ft max

I hope you don’t forget that giving up decisively also counts as courage

of course this can absolutely be taken at a literal meaning especially considering he said a similar iteration of this to someone on kkul fm BUT i also like looking at it in context of the entire song because maybe this is him trying to convince himself too, especially considering the wording of the last chorus doesn’t change it so it implies in order to get past the fire u need to let it burn first? burn it = giving up on some aspect of pain?

i see why max didn’t shut up for eight months about making this song i wouldn’t either hello

outro: tear - bts

im including this one firstly because i love the song but secondly to say i knew the second u all were surprised by yoongi saying he wrote this as essentially a break up song for bts and they all cried while listening to it that y’all don’t actually read or interact w their lyrics fjdklafjsd

just bc it’s a rap song doesn’t mean it’s a diss or a flex. weirdos.

intro: never mind - bts

I hope you forget about all your mistakes and such; Never mind; It’s not easy, but engrave this in your heart; If you think you’re going to crash, accelerate more, you idiot; Never mind, never mind; Whatever thorny path it may be, go run; Never mind, never mind; There are a lot of things that you can’t control

the entire composition of nevermind is similar to first love and shadow to me where you can just hear the emotion in his voice while performing it

this is also another general idea that he mentions a few different times through different songs which as we’ve seen i am <3 for

intro: the most beautiful moment in life - bts

once again i don’t have a specific lyric to pull i just love this song so much and i feel like it isn’t talked about enough because first of all the use of the basketball throughout the instrumental, the incorporation of the origin of his stage name into an entire song regarding his general existence as a performer and coming into the beginnings of sizeable fame, and just his general way of essentially writing one giant ode to something he loves and analogizing it to something else he loves to talk through internal struggles.

aka im once again saying min yoongi you’re so cool

first love - bts

same line of awe from above this whole song is just a story, a poem, a journal entry, a beautiful confession, i don’t know. this is yoongi’s best bts solo u can argue with a wall about it also if you were able to see this live i hope u have a terrible week (im joking)

every fancam i’ve ever seen of this makes me cry. so. do with that what you will in regards to how i feel about this song.

#i have no reason for posting this so im not gonna tag it with anything other than so i can find it again for myself JFEKWFJS #ffr #my writing #i just realized only one of these is from an ot7 song help #there are so many others. tomorrow. autumn leaves. mikrokosmos. black swan........

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punchdrunkdoc · 4 years

Text

Updated K-drama list (4)

This list is getting looooong, because I’m well and truly addicted to these shows and can’t stop watching them.

I think its because each show is so self-contained - one series, 16-20 episodes and its done. A clear beginning, middle and a satisfying end. That, together with all the tropes in play (SO MANY TROPES!!) makes each show feel like a novel come to life. And when I start a good novel, I have to finish it in one go. This usually results in me staying up till 2am because I NEED TO KNOW HOW IT ENDS. And it’s the same with these shows. I’m getting very little sleep, but I’m having a hell of a good time!

FAVOURITES

1. Crash Landing on You

He’s from North Korea. She’s from South Korea. They never should have met, but they’ll change each other’s lives.

This was my first K-drama, and its still my favourite. The full cast of characters is great, the lead romance is ANGSTALICIOUS and its genuinely, laugh out loud funny (when its not making you cry or swoon).

Male lead: Officially the best boyfriend ever. With added dimples.

Tear-jerk factor: 4/5

2. Healer

The lives, and pasts, of a hot shot reporter, a spunky young tabloid journalist and a mysterious thief-for-hire intersect.

This was so addictive - the plot was tight and engaging, and this is one of the few shows I’ve watched where there didn’t seem to be a lot of filler. I loved the central 3 characters, and the romance was amazing. I especially loved that the male lead started off such a brooding loner, but he became super-affectionate as soon as he admitted his feelings. So many good hugs and lots of face-cradling in this one.

Male lead: Effortlessly beats up 2 henchmen while comforting his girl over the phone. What more do you need?

Tear-jerk factor: 1/5

3. Itaewon Class

A young man’s life is forever altered when he runs afoul of a powerful family.

This felt like a big step up in quality from everything else in this list, in terms of the production, soundtrack (which was brilliant), the lack of annoying sound effects, and just the overall ‘real world’ feel of the show. All of the characters were fleshed out and 3-dimensional, and they all had their ‘moment’ to shine. The story itself was gripping and so well done - some of the twists and reveals had me gasping! And what can I say about the 2 leads? I love them, both separately, and together. He is so wise beyond his years, and his journey will break your heart and inspire you. She is borderline sociopathic, but I adore her.

Male lead: Tenacious, principled, kind, innocent, caring, driven, loyal…and he can cook!

Tear-jerk factor: 2/5

4. Descendants of the Sun

A special forces Captain meets a capable and beautiful trauma surgeon. They feel an instant bond, but their jobs and philosophy on life get in the way, threatening to tear them apart.

Halfway through this show, I seriously thought this might overtake CLOY as my No. 1 fav. I absolutely LOVE the male lead character, and the romance was beautiful…but it didn’t quite nail the angst and the last minute was a bit twee which dropped it down the rankings a bit.

Male lead: A cocky, charming, absolute BADASS with the most adorable, cheeky smile.

Tear-jerk factor: 2/5

5. Love in the Moonlight / Moonlight Drawn by Clouds

A young woman poses as a eunuch in the Royal Palace and falls in love with the Crown Prince

I wanted to try something different so I opted for this period piece and OH MY GOD am I glad I did. The start had a really light comedic tone (and a lot of modern anachronisms - high fives everywhere!) and I loved all the identity-concealing hi-jinks. But then the romance kicked into gear and the DELICIOUS angst started flowing, and I became obsessed with it. It's like loads of bits of my favourite regency historical romances were mashed up and transported to the Joseon Dynasty. I loved it so much!

Male lead: Manages to look amazingly handsome despite all the period headgear, kicks ass with a sword, and doesn't allow himself to be manipulated by the corrupt officials surrounding him, which was refreshing. Also acts like an adorable goofball when he's in love.

Tear-jerk factor: 2/5

6. My Holo Love

A lonely woman falls for a holographic AI and then meets his creator...

I love the concept of this show (I’m a big sci-fi nerd), and it was beautifully shot. The lead relationship is well developed and it doesnt fall into a typical love triangle. I’ve come to realise it utilises a lot of K-drama tropes (face-blindness! shared childhood trauma!), but it does it really well, imho.

Male lead: Tortured loner genius. My catnip.

Tear-jerk factor: 2/5

7. Goblin

A 900yr old immortal guardian finally meets the ‘bride’ who will end his existence

Once I got over the slight ick-factor of the age difference between the two characters at the beginning, I really fell for this show and it’s world. It had me in tears. And I especially loved the secondary character of the Grim Reaper.

Male lead: Surprising innocent and funny for a 900 year old

Tear-Jerk factor: 5/5

8. What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim

An personal assistant decides to quits her job in order to get a life. Her boss has other ideas.

I loved the female lead in this - I’m a sucker for uber-competent people, and the actress is STUNNING. Her boss is self-centred, entitled and vain...but over time, somehow that just becomes endearing! Possibly because he’s played by Park Seo Joon, who can do no wrong in my book! The central romance is super cute - I can rewatch their scenes again and again.

Male lead: Like I said, somehow makes vanity and narcissism endearing. Also not afraid to get his shirt off and flash his 6-pack. Bonus.

Tear-Jerk factor: 0/5

9. Legend of the Blue Sea

A mermaid comes onto land to find the man she loves

The (literal) fish-out-of-water scenes in the first half of this show were hilarious - the actress is a comic genius! The romance was nicely done, and there wasn’t a lot of extraneous plot or too many characters. I couldn’t stop watching this one!

Male lead: Cocky, arrogant conman with a soft mushy centre

Tear-Jerk factor: 1/5

10. Fight for my Way

Two life-long friends decide to go after their dreams

I fast-forwarded large chunks of this (I wasn’t interested in the secondary couple at all), but it still made my favourite list because I love the leads - both as separate characters and as a couple. This is one of the best friends-to-lovers stories I’ve seen, mainly because you truly buy that these 2 have known each other their entire lives (their bickering and teasing feels so natural). And then when they take the next step, they’re so affectionate and refreshingly open with their feelings.

Male lead: The third Park Seo Joon character on this list! I love his contradictions. He’s goofy and childish…but can really turn on the sexy charm; he’s a badass MMA fighter…who loves when his girlfriend sticks up for him and protects him.

Tear-jerk factor: 0.5/5

11. Suspicious Partner

A young, hardworking lawyer has her life turned upside down when she is put on trial for murder.

This has been officially bumped up to my favourites list - partly because I’m now a massive Ji Chang Wook fan, and partly because I’ve rewatched scenes with better subtitles and its made it 10x better. Its still overly long, but the serial killer plot had some nice twists and it was central to the story, so it didn’t feel extraneous like some of these types of plots do. I really enjoyed the central romance - the 2 characters sparked off each other well and I loved their evolution from sort-of enemies to lovers. This is another show where I can endlessly rewatch their scenes together.

Male lead: Its Ji Chang Wook! He’s so good at playing serious guys who are secretly big dorks.

Tear Jerk factor: 0.5/5

NOTABLE MENTIONS

These are shows which I completed and really enjoyed but they had flaws which kept them out of the favourites list.

1. The K2

An ex-mercenary takes a job as a bodyguard protecting the illegitimate daughter of a politician. A sort-of Snow White retelling.

This started off really well, with some amazing fight sequences (hello, shower room scene!). However, the back half became too bogged down in double crosses and manipulations, and it focussed too much on the politicians. The writers did well to give these characters some layers, but they were all essentially doing bad things for the wrong reasons, and I just didn’t care about them. The show was much better when it was following K2’s journey. The romance also started off well, but was a bit underdeveloped (mainly because they barely interacted).

2. I Am Not a Robot

A man who is allergic to human contact finds companionship with a robot…or does he?

I honestly thought I wouldn’t make it passed a couple of episodes of this - the concept was just too ridiculous. But I’m glad I persevered, because it developed some real depth and some proper good angst towards the end and I LOVED the central relationship.

3. Extraordinary You

A high school student discovers she's a supporting character in a comic book

The plot of this was so unique, and the way the comic story played out interspersed with the characters 'real lives' was really well done. Plus the central couple were so adorable. It dragged in the middle section (several versions of the same conversations were had, and the same exposition was spelled out multiple ways for no apparent reason) which kept it out of my favourite list, but it redeemed itself with some good angst at the end, and it had a really lovely ‘epilogue'.

4. My Love from the Star

Alien stranded on earth meets an actress soon before he’s due to be rescued.

I finally gave this another chance, and I’m glad I did. The female lead got a LOT less irritating, and I enjoyed the present-day romance and all the flashes back to the past. However, the ending was really abrupt and disappointing (which kept it out of my favourite list). There should have been 1 less filler episode in the middle, and a decent, fleshed out finale instead.

5. Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo

A young talented weightlifter experiences first love

Honestly, I wasn’t sold on this at first; the female lead was a bit much (lot of gurning and over-acting) and there was a weird disconnect between how she was described (big, overweight, manly, unfeminine) and how she actually looked (thin and beautiful!). But the back half of this show saved it; her relationship with Joon-Hyung was sooooo cute. He is adorable, and they were both so supportive of each other’s dreams. I finished this with a big smile on my face.

6. Because this is my First Life

A rational-to-a-fault software designer and an aspiring screenwriter come up with an unconventional way to solve their housing problem

When I started this, I thought it was going to be all light and fluffy (the main character's job in the beginning was to insert the product placement in Korean dramas - hello, Red Ginseng! - which I found hilarious and meta) but it had a surprisingly melancholic tone throughout and touched on issues of workplace harassment and gender roles. I didn't warm to the male lead until right at the end (which was probably partly intentional - he's very remote and closed off) but overall I found the story quite lovely. Plus it had a really great central female friendship and their conversations actually passed the Bechdel test!

7. Strong Girl Bong-Soon

A woman with inherited super-strength gets a job as a bodyguard for an eccentric young CEO

The lead couple in this are AD-OR-ABLE and I loved their relationship. But there was a weird tone issue in this show. The romance is super cute...but there’s a whole dark sub plot involving multiple women being held captive by a psychopath. I ended up fast forwarding most of that, and just concentrated on the romance.

THE OTHERS...

I finished these shows and liked parts of them, but they ultimately didn’t set my world on fire.

1. Her Private Life

A talented art curator tries to keep her professional persona separate from her fangirl obsession with a pop idol.

This was cute and I loved the central relationship - he was so supportive of her, and their interactions were refreshingly mature and their banter felt really natural. Ultimately, it was a bit forgettable (I’m not dying to rewatch any of it), and the last minute tacked-on childhood trauma subplot was really unnecessary.

2. Touch Your Heart

Star actress rocked by scandal works at a law firm to prepare for her comeback role

This starred the secondary couple from Goblin and I really like them, even though they are playing very different characters in this (more opposites attract, than doomed lovers). At first I found this too ‘cutesy’, but I’ve since realised the sound effects/graphics are a K-drama thing and not unique to this show, so I’m not as down on it as I was. I still had to fast forward a lot of the secondary romances which I wasn’t invested in.

3. Hyde, Jekyll and Me

A woman becomes involved in the lives of 2 men, who share one body

This stars Hyun Bin from CLOY and he is sooo watchable, especially as the slick-haired, glasses-wearing, uptight Seo-Jin. And the show started well...but quickly went off the rails into a convoluted, dragged-out revenge plot.

4. Melting Me Softly

Two people are accidentally cryogenically frozen for 20 years. They have to navigate the modern world and their new lives together.

Another good concept, but it ultimately descended into little more than a light work-place romance. Had a couple of good kissing scenes, but it was overall a bit forgettable.

And the DNF:

My Secret Romance

I started watching this because I was looking for something a little less PG - the characters have a one night stand in the first episode! But I couldn’t get passed the bad acting and cheap production.

Master’s Sun

I liked the premise but the 2 leads weren’t very attractive (at least in comparison to the insanely beautiful actors/actresses in the shows listed above). Call me superficial, but I couldn’t see myself spending 17 hours watching them and willing them to kiss.

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astertataricvs · 5 years

Note

Can I request a first kiss hcs for Kyoujuro, Giyuu and Muichiro?

OMG this is so long! I hope you all liked it!

First kiss headcanons

Kyojuro Rengoku

✿ Kyojuro is a sweet man, of course, he wants your first kiss to be memorable.

✿ You have no idea how this Flame pillar boyfriend of yours wants to kiss your luscious lips every time he gawks at it whenever you’re talking to him or others.

✿ He would ascertain himself too absorbed in his little world; daydreaming about his lips fastening to your kissable one.

✿ Kyojuro was hiding it and he doesn’t want you to notice how he was craving to feel your lips with his. He doesn’t want you to feel compelled about it and he absolutely values you a lot.

✿ If you’re giving him a hint about it, he would definitely ask you if you’re 100% positive if you really wanted him to kiss you.

✿ BECAUSE THIS MAN REALLY ADORES YOU A LOT AND HE DOESN’T WANT TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOU SINCE YOU’RE AN ANGEL THAT WAS SENT FROM THE HEAVENS.

✿ Kyojuro beckoned you to go to the shrine with him because in just a few minutes, the new beginning of the year will finally start and he wants to create precious memories with you.

✿ Your Flame pillar boyfriend wants to start his new year with you who the one he truly treasured a lot.

✿ YOU ARE HIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER AFTER ALL! WHY WOULD HE FORGET ABOUT YOU?! DUH.

✿ Of course, you wouldn’t reject his offer since you don’t quite often see each other and spend time together because Kyojuro is very busy with his occupation being a demon hunter and a pillar.

✿ Both of you would talk about a lot of things and you will ask him how is he doing in these months that he’s been busy.

✿ Kyojuro will compliment how beautiful you are wearing your kimono and will land a soft kiss on your forehead before roaming around the shrine.

✿ You and Kyojuro prayed together and he wished that you two will stay together forever and create more memories with you, whether it’s a pleasant one or not. He wants to live with you until you two grow old and plan your own family together.

✿ When the clock strikes to twelve, you both greeted each other a happy new year and embrace each other.

✿ Kyojuro envelops his arms around your waist and rests his chin on top of your head. While you, you buried your face into his chest and inhale the manly scent of your boyfriend. You were really happy about celebrating the new year together with Kyojuro. You feel your heart pounding ferociously against your ribcage and butterflies that were flapping inside your stomach.

✿ Kyojuro’s hands travelled to your cheeks and gently holds it with care. He lifts your face so you can stare into his golden eyes that immediately befuddled you. His eyes were vehement that matches the breath style that he utilises to decapitate demons.

✿ To your perspectives, your visions were only fixed to each other and the muffled voices of the people were casually sinking. Your ears were obstructed to any sounds that were surrounding the vicinity except the vigorous hammering of your hearts.

✿ Inherently, Kyojuro’s face was beginning to propel towards yours and his eyes were half-lidded. You couldn’t help but sniff the minty breath of your boyfriend as if you were becoming dizzy.

✿ Your eyes droop and your lips’ were only an inch apart. Kyojuro peered through his eyelashes to see your eyes were already closed and you were waiting for him to mold his lips into yours.

✿ Kyojuro’s lips curved upwards and say, “I love you, (Name).”

✿The Flame pillar gently places his lips on yours and tilt his head to the side to intensify the kiss that he was craving for a long time.

✿ Instinctively, you snake your arms around his neck and kiss him back. You heard your boyfriend grunt in between your kiss and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

✿ The shared kiss you both have are full of passion and tenderness. Butterflies were fluttering in your stomachs and you both feel like you were sent through the heavens and no one can ever disrupt the momentous time that you have been anticipating to fall.

✿ Once your lungs were stinging because of the lack of air, you two pulled away and stared into each other while catching your breaths.

✿ “That was my first kiss…” you uttered, putting your hand on your lips. Kyojuro smiled at your remark and pull you into his chest, giving you a firm hug.

✿ “It’s my first kiss too. I’m glad that I’m the one who stole your first kiss.” Kyojuro laughed and you laugh along with him.

✿ “I love you too, Kyojuro.”

Giyuu Tomioka

✿ This boy likes to give you forehead kisses. AND HE WILL BE EMBARRASSED ABOUT IT BY FACING HIS BACK AT YOU.

✿ Although this boy was silent all the time and he’s only watching you doing the things you obliged to do. He lowkey wants to give you a kiss on the lips too.

✿ Yes, he lowkey wants to kiss you and feel your lips with his own. Oftentimes wondering how your lips feel like when he pressed his lips on it.

✿ We all know that Giyuu doesn’t have any communication skills and he absolutely sucks at it. Therefore, he remains patient all this time despite that he was following the movements of your lips that he was tempted to smash his chapped ones.

✿ If only he’s eloquent just like Tanjiro, he wouldn’t hesitate to say to you that he wants to kiss you and ask for your permission.

✿ But nope, the Gods grant him a negative zero percent communication skills so he doesn’t even have the guts to move his lips to say anything even if it’s just one word.

✿ Giyuu didn’t give it a thought of that before, but that changed whenever you two will regularly wander around the places where you can see couples in every corner of the street doing lovey-dovey stuffs and boys will brazenly kiss their girlfriend on the lips without a care in the world.

✿ His eyes will directly land on you whose staring at the couples with a faint smile crept on your face.

✿ It’s a miracle that Giyuu could detect the envy you had in your eyes while watching the other couples kissing each other.

✿ Although you haven’t told it to his face, Giyuu is very much aware of the stunted smile you present and countenance.

✿ If only he has the courage to do it, he wouldn’t have second thoughts to crash his lips on yours and kiss you with passion. However, his timidity was hindering him to do it. Also, Giyuu isn’t the type of man who would do those things in the public. IT’S A BIG N O.

✿ TOTALLY A MASSIVE N O.

✿ Currently, you and your boyfriend Giyuu was sent on a mission by Oyakata-sama. Giyuu and you went in separate ways since it’s more convenient and efficient to do so.

✿ Hours of slaughtering demons, your boyfriend started to search for you in the forest since his task was fulfilled and no demons were prowling around at the place he went to anymore.

✿ The kakushis are starting to clean up the place and tend the injured and wounded demon hunters. As he went towards the section where you run off, he immediately stopped in his tracks once he saw your body sprawled on the ground with full of blood seeping out from your body.

✿ Giyuu’s mind went vacuous as if the world had crashed down onto his whole existence. He didn’t waste a second to sprint towards you and take a closer look at your body.

✿ Giyuu’s mind was in turmoil and he doesn’t know what to do when he saw your body drenched with your blood. He felt cold sweats running on his forehead and heart was wildly beating in his chest like a big drum hitting by a drum stick.

✿ Giyuu is beyond worried, too worried to the point that the only thing he views is your lifeless body and his ears become deaf. He doesn’t know what he will do if you… if you die on him.

✿ In a haste, the Water pillar ordered the kakushis to treat your wounds immediately. His voice was so loud and full of dread, he even felt like his throat went barren and in just a few seconds of speaking, his voice is going to crack sooner.

✿ After the mission and it’s been three days since it happened, Giyuu was waiting for you to wake up and you were being treated by Shinobu’s servants in the estate.

✿ Giyuu didn’t leave your side except when he needs to take a bath or going to eat. He just stayed in your room and would stare at your lifeless face with a bandage around your head.

✿ Witnessing you in that kind of state, it absolutely causes his heart to break apart and shatter into millions of pieces. His brain wasn’t functioning properly and as if he was being submerged into the depths of the darkness of his past and suffocating him.

✿ The Water pillar blames himself for not rescuing you at the right time and not able to protect you. The memories of the past that he won’t ever misremember just only kindled his apprehension and his anxiety was becoming worse.

✿ Giyuu will be a complete mess if you died from that mission of yours specifically that he’s there with you.

✿ The ravenette’s eyes fly open once he witnesses how your fingers move and hear a soft grunt coming from you. Giyuu was alerted and rapidly stands up from his seat to take a closer look at you.

✿ He can see the shallow movements of your eyelids and how you stir from your position.

✿ “G-Giyuu…”

✿ Your raspy voice reaches to his ears and your boyfriend merely holds your cold hand to inform you that he’s here. He couldn’t utter a single word because of his overwhelming emotions. Now that you have woken up from your deep slumber, Giyuu couldn’t express the relief that was filling his whole existence.

✿ It feels like a ray of hope arose in his most sunless abyss and his heart was restoring from its shape again. And you’re the only one who can do that.

✿ You slowly lift your eyes and adjust your blurry vision. Once you can finally see the view of the room, the face of Giyuu was the first thing that you see. His face was contorted with concern and a bit of relief, his eyebrows were crinkled and you can feel his warm hands covering yours.

✿ “(Name)…” Giyuu mutters and his hold on you squeezes. You flash him a reassuring smile and move your free hand to grab his and softly stroke it.

✿ “I’m back, Giyuu… I’m sorry for worrying you.”

✿ Giyuu shakes his head and cupped your cheeks, drawing circles on your cheekbones. He doesn’t know what he should say to you but the one thing that was lagging in his head was to kiss you due to the happiness and ease that he was feeling at this current moment.

✿ Giyuu leans down to your face and for a second, his profound cerulean sea eyes stare into you (colour) ones.

✿ “I love you, Giyuu…”

✿ That are the only words that he needed to hear, Giyuu didn’t take a second to connect his lips into yours.

✿ The feeling of your warm lips to his cold ones, it makes his heart go wild and feel like fireworks were being exploded in his stomach.

✿ Your lips fit his own in perfect harmony. His mind goes in a haze as he felt your arms snakes around his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. The shared kiss was full of love and sincere sentiments you both have for each other. It feels so surreal and Giyuu likes how your lips give warmth on his own.

✿ A few seconds later, the Water pillar retracted his lips but didn’t pull away from you. Instead, he rests his forehead against yours and you can smell the minty breath of your boyfriend.

✿ “Welcome back,” was he only said but you can notice the delight in his timbre.

✿ Please don’t scare him like that anymore.

Muichiro Tokito

✿ This boy doesn’t know how he will kiss you on the lips. He’s always pondering about it but he couldn’t picture how it will be like.

✿ And we all know that this innocent bun likes to give you tight hugs and kisses on the cheeks because Muichiro is a pure boy and adorable!

✿ So your first kiss will gonna be like this:

✿ You, Tanjiro and the others were trying to train in one of Shinobu’s training grounds. Muichiro tagged along with you since he’s always gonna accompany you wherever you will go.

✿ Of course, you wanted him to come with you because he’s also fond of Tanjiro. He’s the reason why Muichiro regained his memories back and you ascertained that your boyfriend is only showing his cheerful and soft side to the burgundy haired boy.

✿ Moreover, the sole purpose why you wanted him to tag along is because he can also train the trio with you. Despite that Muichiro isn’t the type of person who will help someone without any substantial reason, the mere fact that you’re there and asking him to help you, then there’s no purpose to ignore you and he will willingly accept your request since he has a weak spot for you.

✿ YOU ARE HIS WEAKNESS PFFT.

✿ Tanjiro greeted both of you once you arrived at the training area. You can clearly hear the bickers of his two friends behind him and you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

✿ Muichiro craned his neck to look over you, only to see you covering your mouth with your hands and suppressing your laughter. Sighting you being happy, it makes his heart squeeze and felt the fluttery sensation building within him.

✿ He will admit it; hearing your melodious laugh was enough for him to make his heart pound inside his chest and a smile will automatically flourish on his face.

✿ Seeing you happy will also make him happy because he knows that this joyous moment with you is temporary.

✿ He couldn’t disregard the reality where demons are still present and lurking in the woods just to find its prey and devour humans fleshes. By just recalling his past tryst with the man-eating monsters, his nose will instantly scrunch in aversion and a nauseous feeling was forming in the pit of his stomach.

✿ He surely detests demons.

✿ So, after Tanjiro pacified Zenitsu and Inosuke from their argument, all of you started to train but the blonde boy immediately refused on training and just wanted to go back to the estate. While Inosuke, he’s the usual boisterous feral boy who kept on chanting that he’s going to be the best and he’s going to defeat you.

✿ This causes your boyfriend to step between you and Inosuke and commanded him that the Mist pillar will be the one who’s going to train him.

✿ Then the training commenced, Zenitsu kept on screaming that he’s going to die from the training despite that he’s much older than you and you’re just a kid.

✿ Inosuke was chasing down your boyfriend since he’s pissed that he’s continuously knocking down the pretty boy. However, the upshot was still the same, Muichiro would effortlessly beat and pummel him into the ground.

✿ So, the training goes on until the endless azure sky that was full of enthusiasm turned into its calming shade of salmon and cherry as the sun for the day was finally descending.

✿ You told them that you’re done for today and your training will recommence tomorrow. Zenitsu was glad to hear that the hellish training was completed and he can finally see his sweet Nezuko. However, Inosuke who has this superior stamina declined to end the training and still wants to defeat Muichiro.

✿ Tanjiro calmed his nerves and tell him that they’re going to continue since the night will gonna fall soon. But the stubborn boar head was still persistent and even draw his sword then point its tip to your boyfriend.

✿ “If you want to defeat Muichiro, you need to rest first so you’re in a good shape to beat him up. Is that okay with you?” You try to bargain with Inosuke and you really hope that he accepts your word since you’re really drained from training with them.

✿ When Inosuke finally accepted your proposal, you sighed in relief and glanced at your boyfriend to flash him a dazzling smile.

✿ Muichiro’s heart thumps once he sights your grin that you’re bestowing him, the childish smile that was illustrating on your amiable and lovely features… he really wouldn’t get weary of seeing it whether you give him the same smile every day.

✿ The Mist pillar only watched you interacting with the trio and laughing along with them. He didn’t care what the others were saying and his eyes only adhered at you as if the whole world only revolves around you and the faces of the Kamaboko gang vanished from his sight.

✿ He stared at your captivating visage and how your lips move when you’re talking.

✿ Oh, how he wants to crash his lips on your sweet lips because of how tempting it was.

✿ So when the trio bid their goodbyes to walk back to the butterfly estate, you hurriedly marched towards your Mist pillar boyfriend who was in a daze because of staring at you for too long. He didn’t even notice that you’re now in front of him.

✿ Hence, you pinched his nose to snap him back to reality. Muichiro was startled at your abrupt action and glance at you whose giggling because of the reaction he just proffered you.

✿ “You’re really cute, Muichiro.”

✿ That sweet smile of yours that mirrors the soothing breeze of the springtime that furnishes you the therapeutic sensation, and that’s the last thread, Muichiro couldn’t repress himself back anymore.

✿ Muichiro abruptly grabbed your shoulders and stared at you keenly. You only blink at him and tilt your head to the side because of bewilderment.

✿ And to your surprise, Muichiro hastily pecks your lips and turns around once he successfully gets the kiss that he was contemplating for about a week now.

✿ Of course, Muichiro is still a 14-year-old boy who isn’t legislatively qualified to do those rough or passionate kisses.

✿ So the best kiss for him is just a peck. JUST A PECK AND IT’S MAKING HIM BLUSH.

✿ WHAT MORE IF IT’S A PASSIONATE KISS? HE WILL FAINT FROM SO MUCH EMBARRASSMENT.

✿ The Mist pillar’s face was steaming because of the humiliation from kissing you out of the blue and to be specific… ON THE LIPS.

✿ That’s why your boyfriend immediately walks off without saying anything since he’s too ashamed to even take a glimpse at your figure.

✿ That’s was your first kiss in months of being in a relationship, excluded the kisses you both shared on the cheeks and forehead.

✿ “Muichiro…” you mumbled his name, still couldn’t comprehend the fact that Muichiro kissed you on the lips. But you would admit it, The Mist pillar’s lips were softer than yours.

✿ Eliciting a chuckle, you covered your mouth with the back of your hand and remember how Muichiro just kissed you.

✿ “Such a cutie…”

✿ No uncertainties, you’re going to kiss him more on the lips soon.

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excutient · 3 years

Text

It gets lonely as hell at the top of the world.

Lucky for Fuyuhiko, he’s never really alone.

Or maybe it’s not luck, because he’s found himself sat on the edge of a skyscraper with the two craziest fuckers he knows. And who’s luckier than Nagito, anyway? Or Servant, Fuyuhiko guesses, because that’s what his friend keeps insisting he goes by now. Fuyuhiko thinks it’s fucking weird, but Nagito likes weird, and who is he to judge anyway?

But Kazuichi isn’t anyone to judge either, but he’s still got shit to say about it, “But for real, what the hell is with that collar? I can’t say I get the whole ‘servant’ thing, but it’s not like you’re their pet. It’s even got a leash for crying out loud!” It’s not like Fuyuhiko disagrees though, the chain linked leash is pretty fuckin’ weird.

“I’m certain it would make you feel better if I told you it were to sell the bit, but the truth is I’m rather fond of it!” Nagito sighs as he twirls the chain in his hands, the far off look in his eyes like always, “You don’t have to be here visiting me anyhow, you know? I’m sure it’s absolutely boring and a waste of time to be hanging around trash like me.”

“If it was boring, you know I wouldn’t even fuckin’ be here.” Fuyuhiko barks back, and it’s true. He can’t sit around wasting his fuckin’ time being bored. It’s honestly one of the reasons he’s here anyway. Peko’s gone off on a mission with Ibuki, but only after making sure a million damn times that it was okay with him, that he knew she’d be back. Of fucking course she’ll be back, but she kept insisting she would because she belongs to him. It drives him fucking crazy to do that constant back and forth with her, but she’ll always insist she’s a tool, and he’ll always insist she’s not. Honestly though, they need that fight just to keep from being bored. Just to feel shit.

Everything is so fucking boring if it’s not on fire or bleeding, but that’s what makes it so damn delicious to finally see everything go up in flames. Still, that’s why he couldn’t just sit around and wait for her to come back, so he dragged Kaz along to Towa City. He knew Kaz was bored as hell without any more executions to maintain, without that damn killing game, and Fuyuhiko wanted to make sure a certain lucky bastard hadn’t gotten himself killed yet. So, here they are.

It seems like Kaz really is just as restless too, because he twitches impatiently while they sit up there, “You know, I really thought you would be up to something crazier. You’re just making milkshakes while you watch kids murder adults. And Makoto’s damn sister is running around with a Megaphone as a weapon?! It’s weird for sure, but is it really fun for you?” Fuyuhiko doesn’t know why Kaz even asks. At least Nagito has the decency to make his hope-fucker speeches new and improved every time he gives one, but it’s easy as hell to tell that’s where this is headed.

Of course Nagito is predictable as he always is, it’s somehow real endearing and real fuckin’ annoying all at once. But at least it’s interesting, “Well of course you have to go through all the ridiculous set up in order for the grand finale to play out! If I want hope and despair to clash in a show of beautiful fireworks, I have to do my job and be patient. When Miss Komaru aids this city in rising from the ashes, it will be a most wonderful hope! I can’t bear to miss it.” Nagito wraps his arms around himself tightly in the way that he does when he gets real lost in himself. His eyes get so vacant, like the only thing that exists inside his head is the constant crashing of waves of hope and despair, and Nagito is just riding his lucky lil’ surfboard.

Looking at Kaz though, it’s plain on his face he’s just as lost as ever, “I mean, I guess, but you didn’t really answer my questions. Is it fun?”

When Nagito turns to look Kazuichi in the eyes, Fuyuhiko can already tell that pressing the ‘fun’ factor was a big fucking mistake.

“Ah, so it’s about fun for you, is it? You indulge in horrible crimes against humanity as a fun game? I see,” Nagito chuckles to himself, getting up to fully stand on the ledge. He grabs two backpacks and throws one in each of their directions, “Well, then let’s have some fun!” He grabs one backpack and looks at it, contemplating it for just a second before looking between his two friends. His eyes land on Fuyuhiko, and he throws the backpack at the other’s chest.

Then, Nagito just winks at him before dropping backwards, falling from the skyscraper.

Kaz, being the dumbass that he is, scrambles trying to get up and get on his backpack, “You’re such a jerk, you know that?!” And he immediately jumps off right after. Fuyuhiko just sighs, throwing on his backpack as he throws himself off along with them.

It’s a tall ass skyscraper, and a long way down. Fuyuhiko falls and falls face up through the thick fog made of pure pollution, feeling it fill his lungs to blacken them. He just stares at the sky, endlessly red and looking like it could swallow him absolutely goddamn whole. For a moment, he feels like he’s falling up. The sky calls to him, pulls him in and threatens to consume him in its crimson. It’s the same way the crimson of blood calls to him, reminds him he can’t live without it’s constant spill. The sky calls, promises to him he’d never have to spill himself again. If he just drowned in this, then he would forever be in a euphoric despair. If he just let himself fall, the split crack of his bones would sing his ass to sleep.

The sky’s voice sounds just like Junko’s, and that’s not at all surprising. He’s sure as shit she can see it all through her eye that had been forced into his right socket. She can see it, and she wants to fucking feel it, and she wants him to feel it all with her. She wants to watch him fucking give up what little he has left, wants him to die next to his dumbass friends. She wants Peko to tear herself apart looking for him, and when Peko finally does find his broken body, blood dried a long ass time ago, Junko wants to envy the all consuming despair that will come from that. Fuyuhiko doesn’t want to leave Peko, he’s never fucking wanted to leave her side, but if he could give her this.. If he could let himself crash and give her that despair, would he finally have been worthy of her?

All of that stops dead in its tracks when he finally catches up with Kaz and Nagito. Fuyuhiko suddenly remembers himself and springs into action, grabbing Nagito mid air and forcing the parachute on his back, “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that! This ain’t luck, you’re only gonna get out of this shit alive thanks to me!” Fuyuhiko tries to scream over the wind, but Nagito just gives him a cheeky ass look and shrugs. Fuyuhiko just rolls his eyes as he pulls the strings to release Nagito’s parachute, before him and Kaz pull their own.

They all just hang out in the air, drifting down the rest of the way while Fuyuhiko fantasizes about all the ways he could absolutely fucking kill Nagito. He doesn’t know if that’s enticing because he’s furious at the bastard, or because he cares about him so damn much. Maybe it’s both.

Once they get to the ground, safe and laying on their parachutes, Fuyuhiko stares up at the sky again as he catches his breath. It doesn’t say anything to him, just watches. He kinda wishes Junko would say something, but she’s gone now, some of the only pieces left of her kept by two of the most fucked up bastards in the world just laying here on the pavement. But Fuyuhiko can’t see out of his eye, and Nagito can’t move his hand, and even that’s so damn despairing in its own way.

Suddenly, Nagito starts laughing hysterically, and Fuyuhiko turns to face him. He’s laughing, but his eyes are swirling again, and tears are running from his eyes too. It’s honeslty a beautiful fucking sight, seeing how overcome and torn apart Nagito is by hope and despair constantly at war in his brain. Nagito is always pretty but… but this is so damn breathtaking.

“Well? Wasn’t that fun?!” Nagito asks after his laughter dies down. Kaz looks like he’s about to commit a fucking murder right then and there, but he just starts screaming at the bastard instead. Fuyuhiko watches the scene for a moment, before rolling his eyes and rolling back over to stare up at the sky.

In its own horrible and fucked up way, it was fun. But that’s the only kind of fun Fuyuhiko has these days anyways. It’s the only kind he wants, he craves this feeling, which is why he shoots and cuts and burns just to fucking feel something. He doesn’t know if he’s happy or not that all he had to do this time was fall from a building. He didn’t even fucking break anything.

“Well,” Fuyuhiko snaps out of it when he feels Nagito nudge him, “You look like you had fun!” Nagito beams at him, but his eyes are still puffy and a tear rolls down his face. Suddenly, he’s moving towards Fuyuhiko, and brushes his thumb against the other’s face. It’s only then Fuyuhiko realizes he was crying, too. When the hell did that happen? He can’t really think about it too hard, not when Nagito is staring at him so damn intensely while he waits for an answer. His eyes are clear for the first time in.. well who fucking knows how long, and Fuyuhiko can’t make himself look away. Nagito’s hand is still on his face.

But then Kazuichi breaks the moment, squawking at them both, “Hey! Can you guys please not be weird right now, we seriously almost just died!”

Shoving Nagito away, Fuyuhiko yells right back, “Yea well it’s all fucking thanks to me this bastard is even alive.” But he’s ignored as Kaz keeps yelling at them, and Nagito just laughs. God, Fuyuhiko really can’t fuckin’ stand his friends.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without them.

#muse; fuyuhiko kuzuryu #muse; nagito komaeda #kaz is there too #i just want this here #remnants of despair stuff #also they jump from a building but everyone lives. just wanna put that out there #tw abuse #tw manipulation #basically just effects of junko's manipulation #lmk if i should add tags #i wrote this during a work commute idk what im doig

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Note

Oh yaaaay prompts are open! Awesome. Okay here's a prompt: Modern sonamy, Mighty has come back after being gone for so long but not just for a friendly reunion. He's actually there to win Amy's love because now he thinks he has a chance. How Sonic responds is up to you but if you can make it fluffy with a sweet ending that'd be great. Thank you so much! Love your writing.

Yes! they are back! Hehe~ And you’re lucky number NOW!

MightyxAmy is actually something I’ve thought of o-o; here’s why-

Prompt:

“I’m soooo glad you’ve decided to stick around and not go off the face of the planet for forever and never tell me anything ever again until I finally found you this time, Mighty!!!” Excited but also throwing a bit of shade in his fast-talking joy, Ray flew up and down in a pleasant glide as Mighty lowered his head in a bit of embarrassment.

“It... was really that bad for you, huh?” He did feel a bit guilty, but it was his way to just disappear into nature and... figuratively, become one living in it.

Ray just happily swooshed down and landed in a beautiful pose as he didn’t just stick the landing, he STRUCK it.

“Very nice.” Mighty had a bead of awkward sweat drop slightly from the side of his face, though subtle and hidden as Ray turned around and bowed, then laughed at his own whimsy.

“It’s been so long! I was worried I may never see you or Sonic again. Though, lately, Sonic’s easier to spot than ever before now! I mean, just look for his friends and he’ll be around there somewhere!” Ray joked, but he wasn’t quite off the mark.

In the past, Sonic was elusive, he was much more social than now than ever before!

“You have a point there...” Speaking of his friends...

Mighty had a weakness, something he didn’t want to admit but looking over at Sonic’s friends...

It had been years since he’d seen Sonic. Last time, he was stopping Eggman and his robotic menace, Metal Sonic, who were bent on stealing the Chaos Emeralds and even the Master Emerald from under Knuckles’s diligent nose.

At least, that’s how Mighty perceived Knuckles, with a level of respect for him being a type of ‘forest guardian’ in his mind.

“Will Eggman ever get over his mania for power and greed?” He tsk’d, before seeing the pink image of delicate grace but extraordinary power bounce into his sights and head over to her friends, lovingly holding up flowers as little flickies of all different species were helping her carry some fruit and flowers over to them as well.

“They wanted to say thank you! Isn’t this so sweet?” she chimed, and her voice caught him as he melted at the sight of a girl...

Yes, there was a weakness... but it was specific...

“What’s wrong?” Ray walked over to him, seeing his distracted expression and a hint of sorrow in it as well. “You look like you’re wracked over something...”

Mighty flinched, he was so used to being alone with his thoughts, he hadn’t really practiced talking about his thoughts outloud.

Though... the temptation to tell someone was too great to bare...

“Don’t say, ‘it’s nothing’ cause it clearly is-OFPH!” Ray’s mouth was quickly quieted as Mighty smushed his two, massive and gloved hands over his head and mouth, looking around.

As Ray struggled, he moved him back and let him go, making sure Ray’s remarks were far out of earshot.

“Pah, pah! Your gloves smell like old, rotten berries! Pah!”

“I’m on a diet.” Mighty looked a bit ashamed, but he wanted to talk about it... just... not really talk about it. “I can’t go over there, Ray.” He folded his arms, looking away with a small shade of similar pink to that other Hedgehog’s color... resting upon his cheeks. “I... I haven’t really been around-...” He bit his tongue, not wanting to confess it.

“What? Others?” Ray tilted his head cutely, “You know, it’s not like we’re all master socializers here.” He laughed, “I haven’t really seen Sonic and his other friends either! It’s been years!”

Sonic was actually organizing a gathering, he wanted to announce something like a new game where everyone could compete and have fun in.

Mighty and Ray were reached out to after a lot of effort, but Mighty just sighed. “It’s not just that... those my dissociating from people and living in nature has a lot to do with it...” Mighty knew he was guilty of that, but that was just his way. Nature was his calling, and he couldn’t survive in a modern world.

Even microwaves... just thinking of a robot cooking your food for you was a little ‘wrong’ in Mighty’s mind and heart.

“I’m not good around... strong women...” He ducked his head so far down that you could have sworn he was falling under Narcolepsy.

Ray blinked his eyes, innocently.

Then a knowing and an almost hidden, sly demeanor crossed his face as he put his hands behind his back and smiled, “Just strong women?” He teased, but his tone made it sound so sweetly innocent and sincere.

Mighty blushed and turned away, but as he did so, he saw Rouge pierce her spinning kick and break a boulder.

He turned away, shaking his head before seeing Blaze also training, bursting fire out from around her and melting the pieces of the rock Rouge had sent flying.

All the while, Ray watched Mighty and the actions he was seeing, smiling...

“It’s bad.” Mighty covered his eyes, “I can’t help it. I guess I’ve always seen women as kind of... small?” He didn’t know how to describe it. “So when I see that they’re strength could even rival my own...”

“Well, you are really strong!” Ray’s bubbly personality had him hop up a little closer to Mighty, “And it makes sense, since you aren’t really around women very much in the forest. Unless... You’re secretly into nymphs...”

Cheekily, Ray covered his bashful face and snickered up at Mighty, who held back bonking him on the head and turned away.

“Quit it! Those don’t exist!”

“Ohh... but you wish.”

“I do not!” Mighty swung around, clearly growing upset but more so embarrassed at his flaw. “I just... I don’t know what to do. It gets really bad around-” He stopped when Amy Rose stepped up to the girls, giving them a thumbs up with her hammer swung around her shoulders like a baseball bat.

She readied her swing as Cream rose up and hit a ball towards her. She must have been preparing for one of Sonic’s prepared Friend Games, and practically exploded the ball on impact.

“Aw man!” Amy cutely tapped her head, “Not another one...” she slumped a little and let her hammer fall serenely to her side, as though just as depressed as she was. “Hey, Sonic!” she called, waving her hands to get his attention, then placing it on her cheek. “You’ll need to get stronger balls to throw! These couldn’t even withstand Cheese’s punches!”

Cheese, flying beside Cream, buffed up his chest and sucked in some air. Looking fierce.

“Oh? You got it, Amy!” Sonic shrugged back to Tails, “That new compacted ball was tightly strung together, now what, Tails?”

“Not another one...” Tails seemed to have failed once again in inventing the equipment necessary to actually have the Friend Games work out for everyone’s differing power levels.

Mighty scooted back slightly, growing shy.

Ray saw his hands move a little together and then looked beamingly up towards Mighty, “Ah! You like the strongest of the strong, huh?”

Mighty shook his head, “She’s Sonic’s girl, isn’t she?” He turned away, not liking referring to someone as someone else’s... it sounded like slavery to him. “I mean, she’s with someone... and that’s wrong.” he shook his head, “So... I’m not.”

“But you way are though.” Ray bounced his eyebrows and then held up a finger, “Ah, ah, ah! No butts! I’m teaching you how to talk to a girl, and move passed your fears!” He flew up towards Cream in the air, rubbing the back of his head humbly as he introduced himself.

However, as they perched on a limp from a nearby tree, Charmy began to twitch in angry and flew over, challenging Ray to a contest.

“...Um, okay.” Mighty took the wrong idea from that interaction and slowly began to approach Amy. “H-hello, I’m Mighty... I’m, uh... What am I again? Oh, an armadillo... do you like Armadillos? N-n-not like a food, but like as an individual.” he stopped himself and slapped a hand up to the front of his face. “This is stupid! I’m going home!” he was about to turn around when Amy crashed through a set of boulders, training her strength for Tails’s experiment on crafting a new ball to play with, but looked strangely torn at how he was going to do such a fleat.

As he panicked, Amy turned to look at Mighty, who didn’t realize he had walked right in front of the next boulder.

“Oh, hello!” she swung her hammer away from him and cutely curtsied, “I’m Amy! Amy Rose!”

He mumbled something incoherent and she tilted her head, moving closer up to his face. “I-I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” She got so close that he almost felt his whole body shutting down in the close proximity.

“I-I-I like your hammer.” he stepped back, his whole face stuck on horror with the red of his emotions. His body trembled and he held himself a minute, not sure if that was the right thing to say or if that creeped her out.

“Oh, wow! Thank you so much!”

His eyes widened a little and he relaxed, turning around again to see her face light up at his compliment.

“You know, not a lot of people say that. I like you too!” she waved and moved back to Tails.

“...She...” A huge misunderstanding was forming. “Likes me?”

Ray flew back, “Well, I think that bee guy is chasing the wrong flower, but she’s a pretty cute flower, to say the least.” Ray seemed to be letting it go, not meaning anything by talking with Cream, but also seemed to have won the challenge as Cream was trying to comfort a crying Charmy. “Nothing too charming about that and jealousy.” Being a bit wiser than his looks, Ray seemed to have a good grasp on people.

“Mighty?”

When he saw his friend completely frozen in a moment of hope, he didn’t know how to read this one, but knew he missed something important.

He looked behind him for some clues, and seeing Amy speaking with Tails, he positively flew up in a burst of joy. “Yipee! You spoke with her! Conquered your social awkwardness! How was it? How do you feel?” he turned left... then right... trying to get a read on Mighty’s expression.

Mighty gripped his heart, “...I think... I’m gonna talk to her again.” He looked more motivated than ever, and crushed his fist together, looking stoked. “I think I might have a shot!”

“A...Wait, what?” Ray’s unique ability to connect with others suddenly lost it’s touch... he was totally confused as Mighty rushed back behind him and politely tapped her shoulder, making her turn in another wave of surprise.

“Oh, hello again.” her personality sparkled through his lonely sunrise...

“I’d like to like you too!” he boldly stated, and she didn’t know how to interpret that, other than giggle into her hand and continue her competitive streak.

“Alright! They say that bonds grow on the battlefield! Let’s fight our best out there! I’m glad to have made a friend of Sonic’s!” she put her bundled hands up in a very girlish behavior, one he wasn’t used too, but thought she was accepting him.

“R-right!” he almost wanted to mimic her in hopes of pleasing her in the conversation, but resisted it as it felt awkward to even think about doing.

She waved again and her and Tails took off.

He puffed some determined air out of his nostrils, “Ray! What’s the first game!?” he charged over to him, ready to train and have more interactions with her.

However, while trying his best to impressive, stick with, and battle alongside Amy, he couldn’t help but notice her fondness for Sonic...

‘What am I doing wrong?’ he wondered, and tried to mimic what the other dudes were doing for the ladies.

He lifted a boulder and threw it at a staged robot for a game that required you to bulldoze your way through an obstacle course, and reached out for Amy.

She wasn’t in need of it though, and just shook it, smiling politely.

When he saw Silver do it for Blaze... she took it and got helped up from the powerful blast in the last challenge race...

He used his strength to grip a bridge into place, but saw Sonic scoop Amy up and sped through the now stabilized bridge he was holding up...

Losing some faith, he dropped the bridge once they were safely across... and lost the challenge.

Later, Ray come up to him. “Hmm, you sure you heard her right?” After getting the whole story from him. “You know... maybe... she was complimented you back from your compliment to her.” he tried to explain, “Like, when you crush a boulder with one fist and I say, ‘nice job!’ and you go, ‘You too!’.” he acted out the scenario, but Mighty looked like the crushed boulder he was pretending to punch.

“...Oh.” he lowered his head, seeing his friend really saddened by this.

Suddenly, as Ray went to maybe reach for Mighty but pulled it back to hold his own arm instead in defeat, Sonic sped through the two and turned back, calling out. “Hey, you two! We’ve got a problem! Amy’s missing!”

Mighty rose up from his pity and nodded instinctively.

The two took off with Sonic and found that Amy had been lost in one of Eggman’s sabotages, and Mighty just so happened to be the first one to dig her out of the landslide.

Helping her up, she held onto him and he felt what Sonic must feel when he carries her, and continued to try and get her to safety.

Using his nature skills, he found her natural ointments for her scrapes and scratches, food that she was safe for her to eat, and even how to follow the water tracks back to civilization... or something like that, Amy didn’t really follow everything but was deeply impressed by him.

She did compliment him a lot though... so maybe?

“Miss Rose...” He began, but she quickly cut him off.

“Amy! No need for any of that, I’m not an old lady, silly!” she teased, fanning her hand out to shush him on trying to be so formal. “We’re friends now! No need for that.”

“O-oh... How’d you get so strong?”

“I wanted to be beside Sonic... always.” her stance changed as she dreamily looked off into the distance, trekking through the other side of the mountain since Amy was trapped on a now covered trail that Eggman had rigged. They had to move around the mountain to be safe, but were triggering traps along the way.

He felt his shoulders rest down at her mention of Sonic, and the way her entire being seemed to fall and rest in a gentle way at mentioning him.

“Uh-huh.” He looked away, “You like him... don’t you?”

“Emm... is it obvious?” She cutely teased, covering her face and swaying her body back and forth, “For the most part, I like everyone, but especially my Sonic!” she swooned, placing her hands cutely on the side of her cheek.

“Well, it’s good to know.”

Mighty and Amy looked amazed to see Sonic coming up behind them, holding some wires in his hands as he seemed to have cleared the upcoming trek before finding them.

He winked to them, “Miss me?”

“Sonic!” she excitedly dashed towards him, her arms outstretched wide as she embraced him and tried to peck his whole face with kisses, but he just kept pulling away, leaning his head back.

“Easy, Amy! Easy! You’ll spook out Mighty!” Sonic smiled but in a embarrassed and awkward way, knowing Mighty wasn’t used to Amy’s typical behavior.

But as Mighty watched them, he felt a kind of peace wash over him.

‘Ah, so that’s how a woman shows she likes a man.’ he smiled kindly to the two, then sighed and put his hands to his hips, accepting his defeat. ‘I guess I’ll have to find a girl willing to like me that much too...’

“Mighty?”

Turning back, he realized he had spaced out in his own thoughts again, excluding the world around him as he had to be social again, and waved his hands out to them as he tried to explain himself. “Ah! N-nothing! W-we should get Amy back safely though!”

“Aw, I’m a lot stronger than that, right!?” She summoned her hammer, moving away from Sonic and then presenting Mighty with a fist to hit.

She smiled bold and brave... and he admired that in her.

He realized his feelings were from a lack of experience, and that this was the most ‘liking’ Amy would ever let him receive, and was just glad he got to learn more about her.

“Yeah, you are strong.” he returned the fist bump, and let it linger there a moment as his eyes widened a second. “You... You didn’t get pushed back.”

Amy’s eyelid twitched as she was forcing her eyes closed, her feet were in a stance to withstand the light... but heavily powerful force that came from his fist touching hers.

“Uh-huh.” She spoke through the pain, but was immediately impressed by her able to withstand his power, and felt his heart race at her strength again.

“I gotta go!” he took off, letting Sonic take care of the rest as he secretly delighted in the fact that there existed a woman out there who wouldn’t get flung back by his fist-pump...

(Mighty is a tree-hippie in my mind lolol And I hope you’re okay with me stressing Mighty more than Sonamy in this prompt... I couldn’t help myself XD but Sonamy is still there!)

#mightyxamy #sonic prompt #mighty prompt #amy rose #sonicxamy?#cutegirlmayra #mighty the armadillo

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imaginepirates · 5 years

Text

Dad! Barbossa

For @ma-rys-stuff. Barbossa is your father, and he does everything he can to break the curse. Basically, it's your retelling of what happened.

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands

~2500 words

~~~~~~~

The girl didn’t look like a pirate. She had such nice blonde hair, and a stunningly thin figure. You were almost certain that men would trip over themselves just to talk to her. The crimson dress clung to her figure, fanning out at the hips, as was the style. It reminded you of apples and of wine. It pooled around her ankles on the floor, too long for her.

It reminded you of blood.

It was all you could think of. Her blood splattering the floor of some dark cavern, flowing freely from her body until she was spent and dying. All so you could, too.

Existing without the ability to feel was, in truth, pretty awful. You hated not being able to taste food, and you hated worse that when somebody touched you, their touch was like that of a ghost. Any reassuring hand on the shoulder, any kiss to the forehead; it was all lost to you.

It had been one of the best parts of your childhood. Your father had planted kisses on the top of your head every night. He squeezed your hand whenever you looked nervous. He held you by the arms and told you how big you were growing. You missed that sensation.

You missed, too, the more intimate touches in life. You missed kissing the man you loved. You missed his fingers in your hair, and his hands massaging your shoulders. You missed his breath on your neck when he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. You missed him.

You refocused. How could such a stunning girl be the daughter of a pirate? She looked too soft, like she’d never done a day’s work in her life. Who cared for her, her mother, the poor wench her father had left behind?

You didn’t believe in that. In being left behind. Your father, despite his faults, had taken care of you from the time you were a baby. You were part of his crew, and could tie knots before you could walk. He hadn’t known about you to begin with. When he found out, and he realized your mother was dying, he took you under his wing. Now, you were as fearsome as any man. You could wield a sword, climb the rigging, swim, and fire a cannon. That was more than most girls your age could say.

The evening was slowly turning to night, and the first stars were creeping out. You loved looking out at the sky; it distracted you from looking at yourself.

The first time you’d seen your arm turn from flesh to bone, you were terrified. It felt like your skin was crawling with bugs. It was the sensation of your skin crawling off your frame, leaving you with nothing but a skeleton. How different that was, to look down and suddenly be able to see your own ribs. You’d long since gotten used to it, but it wasn’t a pretty sight.

You stepped out from where you were peaking at the girl. Miss Turner, she’d introduced herself. Very convenient for the rest of you.

Miss Turner was to have dinner with your father. He was purely there to intimidate her; there was no reason for you to dine with them. She didn’t deserve it all. Her only crime was being the wrong man’s daughter. She couldn’t help what he’d done. She was probably a perfectly nice girl. It was a shame you’d have to kill her.

You didn’t believe it. Your father would never kill an innocent girl. He had a cold, vile reputation, but that was only to keep power. He wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. In fact, you’d seen him grant mercy on some occasions, though those were few and far between. Still, the girl was around your age. She reminded him of you; she had to.

The night progressed without so much as a shout from inside the cabin. Perhaps he was exercising silent horror.

Finally, you heard something. There was movement, the knocking over of chairs, and your father’s taunting voice. A moment later, the doors were pushed open. The girl stumbled out, staring at your father’s transformation in the moonlight. She was shoved right into your arms. She turned a frightened eye to your face, screeching as you squeezed her and turned her around to face the crew, making her watch them at work.

You held her there just long enough to give her a good look, then pushed her out into the fray. She tripped up, falling into a tarp. Her petite body flew into the air, ridiculously ballooned by the dress. Someone caught her while swinging by.

It was so well done, you wanted to applaud. The crew was getting a real kick out of scaring her. Sure, it was mean, but there was only so much entertainment to be had onboard the Pearl. One could only find so much humor in Pintel and Ragetti.

The girl stumbled to the stairs, attempting to hide under them, only to be screeched at by Jack the monkey. She flew out from under the staircase, right toward Captain Barbossa. Always one for the dramatic flair, he opened a bottle of rum and downed it, letting the alcohol slosh over his ribs.

“You’d best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner. You’re in one.”

Barbossa. The famed pirate captain, who led a successful mutiny and stole the Black Pearl from the command of a certain Jack Sparrow. Your father was dreaded among all men, and his name fell only from the most daring of people’s lips. It was said he could hear you call, a summons. This, of course, was not true, but it was fun to pretend.

Being part of his family had its perks. Your name alone inspired fear into the hearts of men. You weren’t sure you’d done anything to deserve such fame, but your father’s name was enough to put people on their guard. Everyone knew that if they messed with you, they messed with him. It kept you out of trouble. Well, sometimes.

The truth was, he pushed hard for the curse to be cured. He’d spent years collecting every last bit of Aztec gold. That you’d found the Turner child was a miracle. You spent many long years wondering if you’d ever live a life without the curse. It was easy for him to say that he wanted to be free of it, but that wasn’t even half the reason for his efforts.

He did everything for you, his only child. He was dedicated to his cause. You’d only been a baby at the time of the mutiny and the theft of the treasure. You were only learning to walk when they sunk poor Bootstrap Bill. It wasn’t your fault the curse was upon you.

You’d spent a lifetime not knowing what it was to feel. There was a time when Barbossa had owned a ring that allowed him to touch you so you could both feel it. You’d given that ring to someone else, when you got older. It didn’t improve their relationship with your father. Then again, nothing ever would, of that you were sure. Not even you.

Besides being Barbossa’s old captain, Jack Sparrow was the pirate you’d fallen head over heels for. He was as dashing as any prince, and he understood your lifestyle like many others couldn’t. Only a select few people were the children of infamous pirates. You both fit the category.

There was a certain way of life that came with growing up on a ship since the time you were an infant. For so long, you hadn’t known anything else. There was the ship, and there was the sea, and there were dots of land connected by strips of water. Beyond that, you couldn’t imagine landmasses. When you were younger, you’d pour over maps, trying to comprehend the vast amounts of dry earth that made up the world. You couldn’t fathom being in a place where you couldn’t see the ocean. Certainly it wasn’t possible to get out of sight of the sea.

You and Jack had a beautiful understanding of one another in this aspect. Your lives were so similar, though very, very different. You told yourself that he’d just lived more of his. Your lives mirrored one another, displaying what the other person could have been had they made different decisions. Yet, neither of you had made a decision that you regretted.

The waters were changing. There were a few gulls overhead. You could hear their wailing, but could not see them. The water should have been lighter as you neared land, but it became dark as pitch, and the sky above rolled with thunder. It wasn’t a welcoming sight, but you were glad to see it anyway.

This was the end. You’d struggled through so much to get here, and now, you could be free. You could live in some sort of peace, now. The looming rocks couldn’t suck the joy out of your belly. It was equally likely that the ship would crash on the rocks, but you preferred to think of the feeling of warmth.

Warmth. What an underrated feeling. You don’t know the meaning of warmth until it is gone from your life. What little remembrance you had of it, you clung to. It was the sensation of being enveloped, of being safe, and of being loved. It was a deep breath under the sun. It was muted sounds against the faint glow of torchlight, a drink in hand. It was the love you had for your father, and it was the love you had for Jack. Focusing on that memory, you helped unload the ship. You wanted it to be the first thing you felt.

It took too long to get the gold out of the ship. There were other things, too, and you hefted those treasures into the cave alongside their more metallic counterparts. You were growing impatient with the process. You wanted everything to be over, to not worry a moment longer about your life. You had forever, of course, to make things right, but forever is a long time with a little girl whose death would have been a long way off in the first place.

Once the treasure was empty, the crew filed into the cave. It was volcanic. The cavern had long since been carved out by lava that had snaked underneath the island, leaving tunnels as it oozed along in its winding path to nowhere. The entrance was right on the water, nearly hidden from view. But you’d been to the island before. To the very same cave. You’d always know the way.

A mound of treasure stood near a little river of water. Balanced on top was a great gold coffin, filled with gold pieces. It was worth a fortune, if you were willing to be cursed. Miss Turner stood behind it, a knife pressed to her throat. Barbossa was just behind her.

He addressed the crowd with flair, and cheers went up from all sides. You were ecstatic. Not only were you happy to be a real person again, as you’d never been since you were a babe, but you were proud of your father. He’d put in so much work. He deserved this, more than any of you.

Carefully, he took the girl’s hand in his own. You watched intently as he cut a razor-thin line through her palm. Blood dripped out of it, falling through her fingers. She held her injured hand in a tight fist, as if trying to keep any blood from spilling. She acted like it was gold. To everyone else in the room, it was worth so much more.

When the first drop of blood fell into the case, you held your breath. Yet, even as the seconds wore on, nothing happened. There was no sensation of freedom, as you’d thought there would be.

There was no warmth.

What did it mean? She was the one, wasn't she? But you felt unchanged. You were no different than you had once been.

The crowd jeered. They called for all her blood to be spilled, or for Barbossa to shoot someone. People were impatient, and they got louder by the second.

It was overwhelming. No, this can't be right. I would know if the curse were gone. Wouldn't I?

A smoke ring sat heavy in the air, preceded by a gunshot. Pintel looked down at his chest, a frown growing on his face. For a moment, there was only silence.

Your father was sharing some words with Elizabeth, but you couldn't hear them. You were too engrossed in the panic welling up inside your chest.

He hit her, and you flinched. It's not her fault. She was sent tumbling down the mound of gold.

The crew was restless, and a few members had the audacity to challenge your father. You bristled; like they could have done any better! Barbossa had done all he could to cure the curse. He hadn't known how things would end up.

Barbossa looked back over his shoulder, something like fear dancing in his eyes. "The medallion, she's taken it!"

That was all the prompting the crew needed to get moving. You were glad the attention had been taken off your father.

You were swept up with the crowd, headed toward the exit. Before you got there, everyone stopped. There, standing dizzily with a paddle in hand, was Jack Sparrow. Oh dear. He looked good, but a bit out of sorts. Just himself, then.

"Parloo." He held a finger up, trying to remember a word. "Parsnip, parsley, par…"

"Parlay?" You offered. The crowd turned to you, casting a collective scathing eye. Jack, however, only grimaced.

"Parley, that's it! Parlay."

Barbossa appeared, and your stomach dropped. There was enough bad blood between him and Jack for things to go seriously wrong.

"How the blazes did you get off that island?"

"When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of land, you forgot one thing, mate. I'm cap'n Jack Sparrow."

"I mistake I shan't be makin' again. Gents, you all remember Cap'n Jack Sparrow. Kill him."

Barbossa doesn't make eye contact with you, and you're about to protest, bit Jack does that little hand gesture that makes everyone stop and listen. "The girl's blood didn't work, did it."

"Hold your fire." You see many faces twist with disappointment. "You know whose blood we need."

"I know whose blood you need."

The sentence gives you hope. You're torn between going to Jack and going to your father. You didn't know who to face first.

As Barbossa turned to leave, you caught his sleeve, letting the crew file past him. "What does this mean for us?" You hissed.

He looked down at you, eyes softening. "It means we keep trying. We've been trying for a long time. We can wait."

"Until we succeed?"

"Have I ever not seen something through?"

You felt weighed down by the events, but Jack's words combined with your father's gave you some hope.

"No."

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #drabble #request #requests #fanfic #hector barbossa #barbossa #writing #writings

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chanxoo · 5 years

Text

Under the Starry Night

→ Pairing: Bobby x Reader

→ Genre: angst and fluff

→ Word Count: 11.239

→ Warnings: the car accident is slightly graphic~

→ Summary: If there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s everything, from the way that you smile when you’re upset to the way that you lick your lips when you lie. But when he decides that he no longer wants to suffer through this one-sided love, he is instead left to pick up the pieces after a near fatal car accident.

Winter used to be his favorite season of the year, using it as an excuse to stay inside and relax by the fire, a fire that he has a habit of needlessly feeding into the wee hours of the night. But lately, this winter in particular, has been exceptionally hard for him to surpass. After being friends for two years, he once thought that you could tell each other anything, but over the last month, your friendship has drastically changed. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment in which everything started to fall apart, and although you don’t seem to be bothered by it, it continuously eats him alive.

Standing outside your apartment door, he scans the area for people nearby, unsure if he is making the right decision. Ringing his hands together, he tries to stop his trembling muscles, but as the seconds tick by, he debates if he should just turn around and head home. Taking one definite breath, he grabs hold of the knob, knowing full well that you always forget to lock your door. Peeking into the small crack, he attempts to find any light or sound as a sign of your presence, and from what he can tell, no lights are on, but he can hear the faint sound of water running. Slowing entering, he does his best to stay quiet as not to alarm you, and although he feels slightly guilty for sneaking into your apartment like this, he is determined to get an answer.

Taking off his shoes and setting them to the side, he walks down the hallway, and as he approaches your bedroom, he realizes that you are currently in the bath. Tuesday nights are set aside specifically for you to unwind and pamper yourself, usually including a bath and painting your nails. Normally he would be there to assist you considering you weren’t the best at painting with your right hand, but you had excluded him from the last several sessions. A part of him hates knowing every habit of yours like the back of his hand, but it’s also partially the reason why he is so in love with you. He is able to see through every part of you, even through your façade, straight to the part of you that no one ever sees.

When he enters your room, the sound of splashing water catches his attention, the scent of your body wash filling his senses. Despite the feeling of comfort at the familiarity, his heart continues to painfully beat in his chest. The last thing he wants is for this friendship to burst into flames, but there is only so much heartache he can bare.

Holding his breathe, he takes one stop forward, stopping just short of the bathroom door. Now that he’s closer, he can hear the faint sounds of your humming. Even without him seeing you, in his mind you are the most beautiful in this moment, when you are unrestrained and carefree. He’s so used to pretending not to see through your mask that moments like this make him want to just sit here forever, appreciating every part of your being. He’s not ready to give this up for the sake of his selfishness, and although he would do anything for you, being your puppet for nearly two years has been enough. Not once have you looked at him the same way that he looks at you, and if either of you are going to find peace, then he needs you to decide.

Pepping himself up before he changes his mind, he pushes open the bathroom door. Instead of screaming like he would have expected, you only look up at him with saddened eyes. You are neither surprised nor angry, but only seem to have expected his visit.

“Hi Jiwon…” Despite your voice being hoarse and broken, you still try to give him a gentle smile. He doesn’t deserve you.

Immediately losing his train of thought, he just stares at you, unsure of what to do next. Sitting in front of him under a mountain of bubbles and bath water is his first love, and now that he is here to confront you, he’s not sure what to say. A part of him feels like an asshole, but considering that this is the most emotion you’ve shown in a while, he evidently came at exactly the right time.

Closing the door behind him, he sits down on the small rug, picking at the small pieces of fabric to buy himself some time. Taking a deep breath, he tries to choose his words carefully, hoping that he will be as clear as possible without upsetting you.

“Why are you avoiding me? What’s wrong?” His voice comes out more stern that he had planned, but he is only becoming increasingly frustrated by your cold demeanor. However, you aren’t phased by it, and instead you calmly lean back against the smooth porcelain tub.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you respond quickly, “I’ve just been busy lately.”

The moment he sees your tongue glide across your bottom lip, he feels the heat surfacing below his skin. Every time you lie, even the smallest of white lies, you have a habit of licking your lips. Most people might not notice it, but he knows you all too well. He’s called you out on it several times, but after a certain point, he stopped bringing it up since nothing seemed to change. You just continued to lie without consideration for his feelings. He considers it as part of your strategy to hide yourself, only an extension of your mask. He’s left it alone simply because he can see right through it, but right now, it is infuriating.

“Can you stop lying to me and just talk to me! I’m sick of having to pretend like I don’t understand you, like I have no idea what’s going on. Are we not friends?” If it were possible, then his ears would be fuming, likely to set off the fire alarm for the temperature at which his blood is boiling.

Without even batting an eye, you change your gaze to the ceiling, drops of water forming on the surface with the lights shining against your glistening lips.

“If that’s how you feel, then don’t be my friend. No one asked you to stay.” Despite sounding cold and confident, your voice waivers ever so slightly, so small that only he alone would be able to pick it up.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you stand up from the tub and grab the towel by the sink, instinctively wrapping it around your torso.

“Are you going to move or not?”

Standing up, he doesn’t break eye contact, but the moment he steps aside, you grab the handle, nearly swinging the door into his face. Although unintentional, it perfectly portrayed your desire to be left alone.

“Why are you like this? I don’t deserve this treatment from you. I just want to know what’s wrong, why is that so bad of me?” His response comes with pain dripping from his words, the pressure at his tear ducts threatening to spill.

His broken expression going unnoticed, you don’t bother to give him a response as you pull out an outfit from your drawers. For a while he stands there, dumbfounded by the way you entirely dismiss his existence.

“So you’re going to ignore me again?”

Nothing but the sound of the clock and the cars on the street can be heard. After slipping on a pair of jeans, you grab your jacket and walk away, not giving a damn about the mess you have left behind. Even if you didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to delve into whatever hell you were going through, he never once thought you would walk away. At least not as easily as you just did.

Following after, he watches as you rush out the front door, slamming it shut behind you. Every second that goes by, his heart breaks a little more, so consumed by the idea that he’ll never see you again that he doesn’t think twice about running after you.

Before you have the chance to get any farther, he latches onto to one of your sleeves, pulling you toward him as if it were his only hope.

“Let go.” You command, looking him directly in the eye.

He chooses not to say anything, instead grabbing your arm tighter. He is so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t notice the way you wince in pain.

Using your other hand, you push against his shoulder, and in the short second he loosens his grip, you rip your arm away. Before he can collect his bearings, he watches as you run from him, his worst nightmare manifesting itself in the blink of an eye.

Jiwon stands there frozen, watching as a speeding car flies by, blaring its horn as it travels directly at you, the one who so stupidly ran into the road without taking the time to look. In that moment he stops breathing, watching as your body slams into the windshield and rolls off the side only to land in a heap on the ground. Due to the black ice, hitting on the breaks only causes the car to skid and crash into one that was parked. But even with the deafening sound of the car horns, all he can think about is you.

Running to your side, he looks down at your bloodied face, littered with small cuts all the way from your chin to your temple. Cradling your cheeks in his shaky hands, he checks for signs of breathing, and when he sees none, he immediately places his finger against your neck. At first, he only feels frost-bitten skin, but the moment he senses a steady pulse, he lets out a breath of relief, but by doing so, he only releases tears. He is so utterly terrified, frozen, just from the thought of losing you permanently, and had he lost you in that moment, he would have considered himself lost amongst the soulless, his one source of happiness ripped from his grasp. His breathing becomes ragged as he sits in the frigid air with your limp body held tightly against his chest. With the cold nipping at his exposed skin, he focuses on keeping you alive, opening his jacket and pulling you close to him for warmth. With you wrapped safely inside, he tries calling for help.

As he looks back on the choices he’s made tonight, he realizes that it would have been best to have never shown up. He was desperate, impulsive, and now your life is on the line. None of the trouble was worth it, and he starts to wonder why he ever thought it was. When he looks over at the totaled car, he sees various people attempting to pull the unconscious man from the driver’s seat, and for the first time ever, he feels utterly powerless. To these people, he must not exist, as they don’t seem to notice the dying girl in his arms. Not one person has come his way to offer assistance. In the distance, he hears the roaring of sirens, but they don’t seem to arrive quickly enough. Every second that passes is one second closer to losing you, and the thought of having this be the way in which your friendship ends eats away at his resolve. The tears continue to fall onto the snow-covered pavement as he hunches over your body, doing his best to protect you, to save you. Nothing seems to be enough as your eyes are still closed shut, the blood staining the collar of your favorite shirt. He leans down, leaving a gentle kiss on your temple. With his lips frozen and numb, he isn’t able to feel much of anything, but hopes that in some way, you’ll be able to sense his presence, knowing that no matter happens, he will never leave your side. In the close distance, he can still smell the faint scent of laundry detergent, evidence that you still tend to oversaturate whenever you find the motivation to do laundry. All the memories come flooding back of when he used to help you with your laundry after first moving out from you parent’s house. You were a mess back then, not knowing much of anything about living on your own. Everything used to be simple, but time has only thrown him into a complicated situation which has only become more difficult to detach from.

Leaning his head back, snowflakes fall gently onto his skin, melting upon contact with his tear-stained cheeks. Just one more reason to hate winter.

In the back of his mind, he can’t help but think,

I just wanted to know if you could love me…

It’s well into the eighth day of you being comatose in that bed, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t losing his patience. He understands that the damage from the incident is extensive and that you will be in the hospital for a while, but he never imagined it would take this long for you to simply open your eyes. He wants nothing more than to talk to you, to comfort you, and to tell you that everything is going to be alright, but he can’t do that if you’re not awake to hear it. This doesn’t stop him from talking to you though, as it seems to be the only thing that is keeping him sane.

“I’m going to step out for a little bit, alright? I’ll grab coffee and be right back.”

By now, one would think he is used to the silence, but each time, it only wounds him. Standing up from the chair, he takes one last look at your sleeping face before silently exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

The curtains had been pulled open earlier that morning, but it’s not until now that the sun makes an appearance through the cloudy skies. The beam of sunlight that pours through the window lands directly on you, illuminating the stark white sheets covering your body. Underneath the covers, the temperature rises slightly, and with the sudden change, your legs writhe in clear discomfort. Once your left foot frees itself from the confines of the oven, your body relaxes, relishing in the cool air against your skin. Your muscles are no longer tense, and you return to your previous state of unconsciousness.

Not a moment later, Jiwon enters the room, steaming coffee in his hand. As he approaches your bed, he stops in his tracks, immediately detecting that something is different. He looks for any signs, and when he checks your chart, noticing no recent updates, he frowns. The room is brighter for one thing, but that is true for the entire building. Walking over to your side, he delicately places his hand on your cheek. Your skin is warmer than earlier, but he dismisses it as being a result of the sun. However, when he turns to sit back in the chair, he loses grip on his coffee, spilling its entirety onto the tile floor.

Right in front of him is your foot, hanging off the side of the bed. He is certain that no one has been inside the room, and upon his exit, your limbs were covered. This is the first sign over the past eight days that you are still responding to the world around you. His mind races, conflicted, desperately running through his options. With his lack of sleep, he wouldn’t be surprised if he is delusional, but it’s something he needs to be real.

Pressing the button on the remote near the bed, he signals for the nurse. When she opens the door, the first thing she notices is the coffee on the floor.

“Sir, did you spill your coffee?”

Dumfounded, he loses his ability to speak, and instead points at your foot. At first she is confused, unsure of what he is trying to tell her, but after a moment, it clicks in her mind that he wasn’t the one to have moved you.

Rushing forward, the nurse checks your vitals and the temperature of your skin, and when she notices the sweat at your hairline, she notes that you are responsive. Grabbing a small towel from the cabinet, she runs it under cool water. She lightly dabs the cold cloth against your forehead, and when she notices the scrunch of your nose and the way you lean into the towel, she looks directly at Jiwon. Both of them stare at each other for a second, unsure if what they’re seeing is real.

“It’s hot…” You groan, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

Jiwon feels chills travel down his spine after having not heard your voice for so long. A sound he thought he might never hear again.

As soon as the nurse removes some of the sheets, she tries to ask a few questions.

“Y/N… can you hear me? How are you feeling?”

The only response she receives is another groan, but she considers that to be better than nothing.

Pulling up the chair, Jiwon grabs your hand, gently stroking it with his thumb. Despite the bruises, your skin is as soft as he knows it to be, and this fact alone is enough to convince him that he will soon be able to hold you in his arms once again. He is both terrified and excited that after all this time you will be waking up soon. His heart flutters just thinking about taking you home, just being with you. It’s the only thought that consumes his mind, so much so that he doesn’t even notice the moment you open your eyes.

“Who are you?”

Looking up, he’s ready to laugh at your poor excuse of a joke, but when he sees nothing but fear, the cold and distant look in your eyes, he realizes that you may not be joking at all. You pull your hand out of his, cradling it next to your chest as if it had been burned, and for the umpteenth time, he feels his heart shatter.

As much as he would like to think that this whole situation is a lie or some wicked dream, he knows the truth. Everything about this is real, and he hates it.

“This is Jiwon. Your boyfriend.” The nurse speaks softly as to not alarm you, but he only stiffens, realizing the implications of her words.

“Actually, I’m not your boyfriend. But we’re best friends… please, you have to remember me.”

Eyeing him and the nurse, you try your best to understand. All you know is that you’re in the hospital, your head aches, and there is this strange man who claims to know you. Thinking about it, you don’t remember much of anything, let alone how you got here.

“I’m sorry…”

That’s all you can think to say before lying back down against the pillow, covering your face with the blanket.

He only sits there, mouth agape, as he watches you hide yourself underneath the security of the hospital sheets. He only wishes to join you in hiding as reality begins to set in. You don’t recognize him. That fact hits him like a ton of bricks, several tons in fact, but not even that can compare to the amount of pain he feels. It would be one thing if you had forgotten what occurred prior to the incident, something he believes might have been best anyway, but you not recognizing him, his voice, his face, is something he is unlikely to recover from. All the time he had spent by your side over several years is now nothing more than dust in the wind, memories that he has become the sole owner of.

In the next moment, the doctor strides into the room, and upon grabbing the clipboard at the foot of the bed, a smile appears on his face.

“Glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Uncovering yourself, you place the blanket back on your lap, straightening out the creases one by one. You neither make eye contact with Jiwon nor the nurse, but instead look straight ahead.

“My neck hearts. My chest hurts. And I’m a little tired…”

Your voice slowly trails off as you try to think about everything, but the more you attempt to pick up the pieces, the worse your headache becomes. Noticing your pain-stricken face, the doctor moves up to the side of the bed, now putting distance between you and Jiwon.

“We’ll provide pain medication right away. Your chest probably hurts because of a few bruised ribs, but those will only heal with time. Luckily, there were no major injuries, although you will likely be sore for a while. Do you remember what happened to you?”

The whole room falls silent. Despite knowing the answer, Jiwon is still hesitant to hear the words come from your mouth.

“No… I don’t. I don’t know how I got here, or really anything for that matter.”

Writing a few things down on the clipboard, the doctor pauses for a moment before asking his next question.

“Do you know your name?”

“No.”

One word. That’s all Jiwon can take. Slamming back the chair, he rushes out of the room and down the hallway. Reaching a dead end, he slumps to the ground below the window, tears streaming down his face. All around him, everything is too loud, the sounds of chatter, the sounds of metal against metal, the damned sound of the clock ticking on the wall above him. Everything around him is falling apart, and yet he must be the one to act like everything will be okay, because that’s just who he is. He hates being weak, he hates being lost even more, but in this moment, there is nothing more he can do but accept the fact that your entire relationship is over. Your whole friendship now… gone.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he looks up to see the nurse squatting by his side. Wiping the tears from his face, he straightens his back in an attempt to look fine, but just like before, the flood only continues. Falling forward into her shoulder, the nurse tries to sooth him by rubbing circles on his back, and although she feels awkward, it pains her to see the loved ones of patients deal with the aftermath of amnesia.

The close proximity only reminds him more of you, how he wants this person to be you. Everything about this situation is unfair, but he also knows that between the two of you, he needs to be the one to stay strong if he ever wants to have some type of relationship. He wants to help you, needs to help you for his own sake and for yours as well. He will be your caretaker, so long as you allow him, but if you never regain your memories and choose to have nothing to do with him, then that would be the point in which he will be forced to give up. But he will fight until the bitter end.

“There’s still a chance that she will remember everything later on, so please don’t lose hope just yet.”

Lifting his head from her shoulder, he looks into her eyes, hoping to find some truth to her words. When he notices the sincerity on her face, he tries his best to believe her, but a part of him is so absolutely terrified, that he’s afraid that his hope will only leave him in broken pieces if you don’t end up remembering a single thing of the love you once had for him. Although it was never romantic love, it was love nonetheless, and he would trade everything just to have that back. But for now, all he can do is wait.

The nurse helps him stand on his feet, and nodding his head, he gives a silent thanks to which she only responds with a smile. Walking ahead of him, the nurse leads him back to the room, but before he enters, he takes one last deep breath.

“No matter what happens, don’t give up. She’ll remember, she has to remember…” He quietly repeats to himself.

Walking into the room, he sees you in the bed still lost in conversation with the doctor, but when you notice his presence, all your attention is directed to him, every word now going in one ear and out the other. Both of you stare at each other for a while, and when the doctor notices that you have stopped listening, he glances behind his shoulder to see Jiwon standing casually in the doorway.

“Come in. We’re just discussing basic details right now, like name, birthdate, just trivial things.”

Looking between you and the doctor, he only nods before returning to his seat next to the bed. When he peeks up at you, he notices your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and the expression on your face only pains his heart. You mouth the words ‘I’m sorry’ and he can already feel the tears threatening to spill again, but before they can, he sucks them back in. Even if you don’t remember anything, he still wants you to see him as the one who will take care of you, the strong one who will fight through anything for you, even if it nearly kills him in the process. Especially in this moment, you need him more than anything, and he isn’t about to let you down.

Much of the conversation between you and the doctor goes over Jiwon’s head, only nodding whenever his input was desired, but other than that, he becomes lost in his own thoughts. He wonders what will happen the moment you are released from the hospital, if you will still want to be near him or want nothing to do with him, but that thought alone is enough for a few tears to break past their barrier once again. Before, he was prepared for your friendship to end, even prepared for the endless, sleepless nights and the constant pain every time you crossed his mind, but at least then you would have had all your memories and maybe have shared the pain, too. But now… there is no chance of salvaging it. If you can’t remember him, then there’s nothing more he can do.

“You should be released in a day or two, but for now just rest and we’ll do a few more tests in a while.” With a slight smile, the doctor bows his head before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

A few more days…

Having to wait before taking you home, before being with you in private, before figuring out the status of your relationship is an unbelievably difficult task, and if he is going to get any peace until then, he needs to talk to you now while he still has the chance.

He tries to scan your facial expression for any signs of your feelings, and he hopes that if he just looks into your eyes he will know everything just like he could before. But when you finally glance in his direction, there is no familiarity. There is no longer that softness that you used to have or the glints of hope during even the most hapless situations. You are someone he doesn’t even recognize.

Losing his desire to talk, he leans back into the chair, and with his hands behind his head, he closes his eyes to think. The first thing he needs to do when you are released is take you to all the places that might bring back memories: your first trip together to the coast, your favorite reading nook inside the public library, even the spot under the tree where your last boyfriend dumped you might be powerful enough to spark something. He is willing to try anything and everything, and before he is able to realize it, he is back to square one, to where this whole situation started under the spell that is you.

“Um… Jiwon.”

The sound of your voice pulls him back from the recesses of his mind and with lightning speed, he sits up in his seat, ready to listen to your words, but as he looks at you, he notices the guilt on your face.

“I’m sorry, but can you leave… I don’t know what kind of relationship we had before, but you don’t have to stay.”

You are both decisive but indecisive with your words, simultaneously wanting him to leave but also understanding that it is not an easy task to do. Being alone in the room with him only makes you uncomfortable, and without you having said anything, he would have quickly figured it out, but he never expected you to be so verbal about it. It is very unlike you. And as much as he would like to think that your words, although not intentionally filled with poison, will destroy every last shred of hope he has left, he is truthfully too exhausted and numb to be effected. Like before, he will do anything for you, even if it means leaving your side. He knows later, though, that the pain will only leave him as an empty shell of his previous self.

“Sure. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.”

Standing up, he pushes the chair against the wall before turning on his feet. Without giving you a second glance, he walks to the door, too afraid that the sight of you will break his façade.

“Oh, uh… you don’t have to-”

Before you finish your sentence, Jiwon leaves, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t want you to finish that sentence, he doesn’t think he’d be able to live had he heard you finish it, and hopefully now, you will understand that no matter what you say, he will be back every day. He’s stubborn, he knows this, and that’s something you will come to learn again, too.

Closing his eyes, he takes a few deep breaths, but as much as he tries to relax, his fingers continue to tremble even in the tautness of his clenched fists. He feels himself become dizzy, the hospital too suffocating and too obnoxiously sterile. He needs fresh air before he ends up in a stretcher himself, so with quick feet, he dashes to the stairwell. In his descent, he tries not to trip, holding onto the railing for dear life as he feels himself slowly losing grip with reality. He loses track of the number of flights, the number of stairs, and all he can think about it making it the bottom and getting out. After he finally reaches the first floor, legs feeling like jelly, his shaky hands push open the door. Seeing himself back in the lobby surrounded by the sick and suffering only urges another wave of dizziness, and as he stumbles toward the entrance, he feels holes burning into his back, probably gazes from employees who notice that he is clearly ill. Going through the automatic doors, he is hit with a wall of cold air, and taking a seat on a ledge nearby, he falls into the snow-covered soil that once held a bed full of flowers. Despite the bites to his skin, his body still burns, the ice not being enough to cool him down. Feeling himself lose consciousness, he tries to slap himself awake considering the last thing he wants is to be in the hospital alongside you. His utter fear of hospitals is what normally keeps him away, and he’ll be damned if he is wheeled in there when he could just be resting at home.

Grabbing the keys from his pocket, he sits up slowly as to not aggravate his vertigo, and once standing, he gingerly makes his way to the parking lot, making sure that no one had witnessed his episode. Finally inside the car, he blasts music hoping that the noise will prevent him from falling unconscious at the wheel, and although he knows he shouldn’t be driving, his only thoughts are to get home so he can sleep through the next couple of days until you are released.

It only takes a few moments before he’s out on the road. He does his best to concentrate on the task at hand, but every time he reaches a stop light, he becomes nervous as once his body is no longer preoccupied, it begins to shut down. Every few feet he swerves, not enough to be alarming to anyone else, but enough for him to notice that he won’t be able to drive for much longer. Seeing his apartment complex in the distance, he picks up his speed, racing past several cars to get to his destination. Thankfully, he has his own designated space where he lives, so parking at the very least isn’t going to be an issue.

Upon driving into the garage, he notices the spaces mostly empty, and taking a deep breath, he pulls into his spot, surprised that he parked straight on the first try. Getting out of the car, he nearly collapses, his legs still not yet recovered. Holding onto the side of the car and the wall, he reaches the elevator, and even after pressing the button several times, it feels like an eternity passes before it reaches the garage floor. Stumbling inside, he leans back against the railing, anxiously watching the numbers increase as they get closer and closer to his floor. The ding of the elevator never sounded so sweet, and with the doors opening, he feels the extra push of adrenaline he’ll need to make it to his room.

His hands, still unsteady, struggle to put the key into the lock, but after several attempts, he makes it in on luck alone. Opening the door, he is met with darkness and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, but that doesn’t deter him from going to where he really wants to be - his bed.

[ Seven days pass ]

After his first visit, flowers and candy in hand, you had politely asked him not to return during the rest of your stay. As much as he would have liked to ignore it and continue to show up despite your protests, he realized that if he ever wants to have some type of friendship, then he will need to build your trust from the ground up and give you the space that you need. During those days, he spent his time in the studio, either making music to get his mind off you or making music specifically for you, and whenever he went home in the middle of the night, often around four in the morning, he could only lie awake in bed, thinking of every possible way he might get you to remember him. In the rare instances he could fall asleep, he would only dream of your face, like a haunting image forcing him awake in a puddle of his own sweat, heart beating as if he ran a marathon. He had no desire to eat or do much of anything, and it was slowly killing him.

When he received the call from the hospital, he was busy in his studio, hand clutched to his mouse, clammy from stress, and he was so engrossed in his task that he almost missed his phone ringing in the background. It took all of two seconds to collect his things before he got into the car, speeding past everyone that got in his way.

Standing in front of the automatic doors, he tries to plan his conversation, what he might say and your possible responses, but no matter how many times he goes through the scenario in his mind, he realizes that all of them seem unlikely. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, he buries himself in his oversized clothes, looking down as to not make eye contact with any of the staff. Having the route to your room memorized, he doesn’t bother looking up, only to press the button of the elevator. Once inside, he takes one final breath, the contents of his stomach flipping over a million times in anticipation of finally taking you out of here. He willingly volunteered to bring you home, as he would have it no other way. He only trusts you in his care.

The bell of the elevator signals his exit, and upon stepping onto the sterilized white tile, he hears the faint sound of your laugh in the distance, automatically drawing a smile across his face. Even in his darkest times, listening to you laugh at your own jokes was enough to pull him from his foreboding hole, and no matter how hard he tried not to react, you were so adorable to him. Thinking back to those times only makes his heart flutter more, and with giddiness now flooding his system, he doesn’t hesitate to skip down the hall toward your room.

As soon as he enters, he observes you deep in conversation with the same nurse from before. When you notice his presence leaning against the door frame, a bright smile spreads across your face. You aren’t sure what had pushed you to respond in this way, but your body was acting on auto-pilot, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Just the sight of it alone is enough for his heart to skip a beat, and once again, his mind is flooded with hope that maybe you will remember him after all, and so long as he can continue to make you smile like this, he might survive this whole ordeal.

“Come on in.” The nurse insists lightly, motioning for him to stand near the bed.

“Everything is set for her to be discharged. All her tests came back normal, and all she really needs is rest, so I recommend not a lot of moving around. She is still in the process of remembering a lot of things, but she seems to have the basics.”

Stepping closer to him, just slightly out of earshot, the nurse gives him a warning.

“Don’t try to force memories on her if you can. It might make things worse. Everything will happen in time.” With a sincere smile, she steps away and focuses her attention back on you, helping you stand up from the bed.

Grabbing the bag from underneath his arm, he hands it to the nurse. Looking inside, she rummages through the pile of clothes before picking out a pair of leggings and a large sweater.

“These are a few of your clothes. It will be best to dress comfortably, so only wear lose fitting shirts as to not aggravate your bruised ribs.” Nodding your head, you grab the clothes from her arms.

“I’ll be waiting outside.” He adds, taking his leave alongside the nurse to give you privacy.

The nurse returns to her station behind the desk, and he is left leaning against the wall, thinking about the activities he has planned for the day. He is still unsure how much of it you’ll enjoy or if you even want to spend time with him today, but he is determined to at least get you out for a little while. More so for you than for him, as he can only imagine just how boring it is to sit in the hospital for extensive amounts of time. His only concern is that you’ll allow him to take you out in hopes of seeing that beautiful smile on your face once again.

As soon as the door opens, his train of thought is broken, and when he looks over at you, his heart stops. He hasn’t seen you in a pair of normal clothes in what feels like forever, and although your hair is somewhat of a mess, you are still as bright as you once were, glowing as if the hospital never had a hold on you in the first place. Just another reminder of why he loves you - nothing in the world can get in the way of your cheerful presence.

“Ready to go?” You question, pretending as if you never once noticed he was lost in thought.

Walking into the elevator, both of you are silent as several visitors, patients, and staff file in. The small space is cramped, and with the two of you packed into the corner, taking it slow on the physical aspect of your relationship is immediately thrown out the window. With your back flesh against his body, you feel your cheeks heat up, and with him squirming behind you uncomfortably, your bodies were only making more contact. Any shift he makes, you can feel, and with so many people around, it feels like a hundred degrees. The bell of the elevator and the opening of the doors are your saviors and as everyone scatters, you run into the middle of the hall, stopping short as you wait for Jiwon to lead the way. When he doesn’t appear on either side of you, you panic for a small moment, but when you turn around, you see him standing right outside the elevator with a sly smirk.

“W-what?” You stammer, awkwardness and mortification clear in your voice. Had he seen something? Felt something? If your cheeks were pink before, they are now a vivid red, matching the color of your sweater.

“Oh, nothing. Let’s go.” The smirk doesn’t disappear as he heads to his right toward to the entrance of the hospital.

“That little…” Biting your tongue, you try to suppress your sudden irritation at the boy in front of you, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have just tackled him then and there.

You had met him only a week ago, at least for the second time, but every minute that you spend near him, you feel more and more comfortable, like you had known each other for ages. It is odd considering you still couldn’t remember anything about your past, but deep in your heart, there is familiarity.

Running after him, you slip into the passenger’s seat of the car, immediately noticing the cleanliness and extensive stereo system. Starting the ignition, he makes his way toward your apartment, leaving the music to lull over the silence.

“So… you’re into music?” You ask sheepishly, not quite sure where to begin the conversation.

“I guess you could say that. I produce my own music, and I enjoy writing lyrics.”

Leaning back in the seat, you allow his words to sink in, hoping that it might spark some memories, but when nothing comes to mind, you decide to continue.

“That’s really cool. I’m guessing you have a studio or something.”

Nodding his head, he smiles at your interest in his work. It’s like becoming friends all over again, and it sends a warmth straight to his heart. Sometimes he would wonder what it’d be like to go through it all again, before any feelings were involved. Having to start over like this only reminds him of when things were easy, all those years ago.

“My room has become my studio. It has all my equipment and everything.” He remarks, a hint of pride breaking through.

“D-do you think I might be able to see it?” Biting your lip, you try to calm your beating heart, hoping you didn’t come off too strong.

Unable to hide his emotions any longer, he turns to you and shows you the sweetest and brightest smile. The sight alone is enough to give you butterflies in your stomach.

“Of course.” The smile on his face becomes contagious, invisible strings pulling at the sides of your mouth.

Parking alongside the curb, Jiwon gets out of the car only to walk around and open your door. He does his best to help you walk up the slippery steps, and with your keys in hand, he slides it into the lock. Walking through the hallway and entering the living room, it’s chilly and silent, so his first instinct is to put a log into the fireplace. Watching from behind, you take off your shoes and your jacket, astounded at everything in front of you. For lack of better words, your apartment is beautiful, definitely your taste, at least from what you can understand. The light tones of blue along with gold accents are extremely eye-catching, and the furniture appears to be high-end. You aren’t exactly sure how you managed to afford everything, but you hope that is only from years of dedication and hard work.

Leaning against the back of the couch, you watch as Jiwon lights a match and tosses it into the black pit, the log catching fire and illuminating the room. He seems comfortable and knowledgeable of the space as he had probably spent countless hours here with you before the incident. Thinking about it now, this whole situation must not be easy on him whatsoever, and for that you feel nothing but guilt. Even though it wasn’t entirely your fault, you knew that your initial coldness toward him must not have been pleasant. You will try to warm up to him and test the waters, but if there isn’t any chemistry to be salvaged, then you will have no choice but to walk away. A feat that you know will not be easy.

Stepping aside, he walks over to the cabinet near the large television. He scans through the movies, examining every cover, until he finally finds the one he had been looking for.

“Get comfortable, I’ll go grab a blanket for you.” He insists, rushing past you toward an area in the back of the apartment.

Following his directions, you take place on one side of the couch, brushing your hand over the soft suede. The material is delightful, allowing you to draw patterns with a simple stroke of your finger. When Jiwon returns, he places the oversized blanket across your body, making an effort to tuck it in at your sides. After inserting the disc, he takes a seat on the adjacent cushion, leaving a reasonably sized distance between the two of you. Normally, he would have sat a lot closer, especially during The Notebook, but he decides to let you survive the movie on your own.

For you, it is a brand new movie, a new experience entirely, and for every scene that clutches at your heart strings, you subconsciously reach for Jiwon’s arm, holding onto it tightly as if it will prevent the tears from haplessly rolling down your cheeks. The impending heart break from the ending shatters your resolve to tiny pieces, almost the size of the ones your heart is now left in, and with you now clutched onto his arm like a koala, he is engulfed with memories from the very first time you had both watched the movie and every time after. Just like now, you wound yourself around him for comfort, and the habit, even with your amnesia, has not died.

All it takes is the credits to start rolling for you to notice your intimate position, and once you detach yourself, you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, likely a million times hotter than the fire itself. You are embarrassed and so confused, but the fact that he doesn’t seem to mind is what worries you even more.

“Are you alright?” He asks, a lop-sided grin adorning his soft features.

You can’t even handle looking him directly in the eye.

“I’m fine.” You respond defiantly, shifting in your seat so that you are now facing the fireplace.

Leaning to the side, he catches the glimpse of you licking your lips, and just like so many times prior, not even little white lies can escape without your Pinocchio syndrome kicking into full gear. Although it is to be expected, the sight warms his heart knowing that at least some parts of you are still the same.

“That was a good movie even though I sobbed like a small child. You said it was one of my favorites, right?” You ask shyly, murderous embers still burning the flesh of your face.

“Yeah, we used to watch it a lot,” he pauses, brushing his hair back with his hand, “even after a hundred times, you still cried the same way.”

Nodding your head, you focus on the wall as it shifts in color with waves of orange and yellow from the fire, and as you rub at your cheeks, you realize that your blush will not be disappearing anytime soon.

“Hey… Jiwon?”

The moment he hears those words, his body stiffens, nervous of what you might say next. The last time you had spoken those words, you had asked him not to return to the hospital, and if you have the same goal in mind, then he might have to walk out the door within the next few minutes. Clenching his jaw, he waits for you to continue, and with each passing second, a million more scenarios run through his mind.

“Do you think we can go out for a bit? I’m starting to feel claustrophobic.”

Looking over in utter shock, he contemplates if he had originally misheard you, but when he sees the innocent look on your face, cheeks still stained pink, he realizes that you are serious in your request.

Without another word, he stands from the couch, grabbing your hand in his. Offering your jacket, he urges you to put it on as he slips his arms through his own. Once your shoes are on, he doesn’t hesitate before pulling you out the front door and down the street. As the cold air nips at your exposed skin, you look at the scenery around you, as you had been unable to do so during the car ride. The neighborhood is quiet and neat, various children outside playing with the leftover snow still glued to the sidewalk. You don’t even notice that your hand had once again found solace in his, too preoccupied by the subtle warmth it gave you. Despite the temperature dropping below freezing, being outside is strangely comforting, giving you a sense of freedom that you haven’t had in what feels like forever. Even if you couldn’t remember anything, your body still held all the physical memories, and from what you are able to tell, you are greatly accustomed to this type of weather.

Jiwon continues to walk alongside you, but as the streets become more packed with people, you find yourself falling slightly behind his steps as he weaves you through the crowd. It isn’t until you run into the back of his black puffy coat that you realize that he had stopped.

“Two hot chocolates, please.”

Peaking around his shoulders, you realize that you are situated in front of a small stand run by a man and a smaller person who appears to be his daughter. Without letting go of your hand, he reaches into his pocket for money, and once he receives his change, he hands over a steaming cup of cocoa.

“They live in the apartment down the way from yours. Every winter they sell hot chocolate to raise money for her studies. You’re their biggest patron.” He smiles lightly, holding his cup close to his chest.

With a slight bow, both of you continue on your way. As you get closer to the center of town, you notice the various lights strung across the trees and around the streetlamps. People litter the sidewalk holding steaming cups and various sugary treats, and once you start to hear the faint sounds of orchestral music, you realize that this is more than just a coincidence.

“Where are we going?” You ask quietly, voice subjugated by the surrounding chatter and activity.

“Winter festival. The city holds it every year and people come from all over to get their hands on all the fresh baked goods. These treats only appear once a year.”

“That’s so cool.” With a genuine smile, you look around at the various stands and booths, watching people of all ages enjoy the delicacies. Even the hot chocolate in your hand tastes like pure heaven, made from expensive chocolate likely flown in from overseas. So delicious that you might even go back for seconds.

What amazes you more though is that in in this small trip, night had fallen quickly, and with the various lights and lanterns, the street is still lit up and full of life as if darkness had no control of the their joy. Everyone that surrounds you is filled with laughter, carefree in their movements as they skip between every stand. It is a kind of welcoming you could only dream about, and now that you are finally here, you don’t even know where to look. It is all so beautiful that you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, realizing just how lucky you are to be alive.

The feeling of warmth around your hand catches your attention, and when you glance over, you notice that Jiwon had placed both your hands inside his jacket pocket. You had completely forgotten that he had never once let go, but without having any gloves in your possession, you aren’t complaining. Jiwon had claimed that the two of you were never in a romantic relationship, but from the way he acts, sweetness and all, you begin to wonder if that might have been a lie. Inside, you are conflicted, knowing full well that there is something odd about holding hands with him, as you don’t remember him at all and he is more so a kind stranger, but your body continues to have a mind of its own.

You become so engrossed in your surroundings, the sounds of laughter and children playing games, that you don’t even realize exactly how far you’ve walked. Most of the festival is left behind, forgotten in the wind, the quiet night taking over once again. Underneath your feet, you can hear the crunching of snow and ice and the melodic breathing of Jiwon beside you, but listening closely, you can make out the sound of crashing waves.

“Are we… going to the beach?” Squeezing your hand, he smiles, showing his smile once again.

“One of your favorite things to do is walk along the beach at night. At least it used to be.” He does his best to not sound disappointed, but his strained and quiet voice doesn’t slip past your ears. He is hurting, just as you would have expected, and it only makes your heart ache, realizing there is little comfort you can give him at the moment. Instead you walk along beside him, hand still in his, as you step across the boardwalk and down toward the water. From your spot above the sea, you notice the thick layer of snow covering what you assume to be the sand, still in pristine condition and left untouched.

“There’s at least six inches of snow here.” He notes, more so to himself than to you. It is unlikely you would want to walk on the beach now, as you both would be forced to trudge through nothing but ice.

Without a moment of hesitation, you pull your hand from his, grabbing his arm and bringing him down the creaking wooden steps. The moment your feet land in the blanket of white crystals, you are filled with a child-like frivolity, a sudden rush of excitement coursing through your veins. Unlike the streets of town, the snow here is a soft as feathers, pure white as if freshly fallen, and with the temperature still being cold enough, the layers are firm, giving you a delightful idea. Running ahead, you do your best to trudge through without tripping and once there is a large enough distance between you two, you drop to your knees, shoveling large amounts of snow into your hand. Upon having your fill, you compact the chunks into a large enough ball, knowing fully well that Jiwon will only be a few steps behind you. With nothing but the sound of the shore and crashing waves, you can immediately tell when he is only a couple meters away. Not sparing a second, you turn around with the snowball in your hand, ready to aim, but the moment you look in his direction, you realize that you might have waited a moment too long.

One thing Jiwon is grateful for is that even after losing your memories, you are still the same person, habits and all, so when he saw you running ahead, he knew exactly what you were up to. He initially hoped that seeing the beach in the dead of winter would help remind you of the past, but it only brought back memories for him of the prior year when you had first heard of the festival, dragging him along the whole thing only for him to play games, winning you every plushie that you had so sweetly asked for. That day, you both walked down this same boardwalk, only for you to throw the first snowball at his head. Spending time with him like this was the break from life that you needed, and you had dusted off all worries from your shoulders, relishing in the moment of youth. It was a moment you held dear to your heart, even framing the picture of you both with your backs against the horizon, rosy cheeks and tired eyes. He thinks back to that day a lot, especially lately, realizing just how perfect life used to be before you had so suddenly started to avoid him, not answering his texts and skipping out on days when you were supposed to hang out. But having you here now gave him a little peace, and even if you never regain those memories, he is determined to make new ones with you.

The compacted snow lands directly on your forehead, breaking apart and scattering onto your cheekbones. From your position on the ground, you can see his victorious grin, a sight that both lightens you heart and lights a flame within you. Clutching the snowball tightly in your bare hand, singed from the cold, you use fast reflexes to throw it in his direction. Unfortunately for you, your aim is as good as a small child’s, and you miss his body entirely. He takes a moment to look to the small pile behind him only to turn around and chuckle slightly, probably one of the most genuine reactions you have ever seen. It isn’t malicious in any way, but a sincere laugh that falls from his chapped lips. Despite feeling embarrassed from your poor excuse of a throw, you are determined to at least get a hit. You use your numbed fingers to pull together another pile of soft snow, sections slipping through your fingertips, and once you have enough, you squish it together to form a haphazard ball. Deciding to close the distance, you swiftly stand from your spot and chase after him, only for him to dodge you, jumping away. The amount of snow makes it hard to traverse through the mounds, but once you are close enough, you throw the snowball, landing directly at the back of his neck. Watching him squirm as the shards fall past the collar of his jacket brings you a kind of happiness you didn’t know you were capable of - the kind you feel when you look at someone you love.

The snow that lands against his skin melts upon contact, and without being able to do much more, he stands there and pouts playfully, slightly annoyed by his back being wet which now only feels cold and uncomfortable. Grabbing another pile of snow, he doesn’t bother to form it before he starts chasing after you, the snow crunching loudly beneath his weight. At this point, his movement resembles that of a rabbit, hopping as he tries to catch up to your quick feet. You have always been a lot better than him at running in the snow, and he loves watching the way in which your body moves freely, as if you were bred for the winter, and although he will never be able to live up to you in that way, he knows that his lack of athletic ability has been more fun for you anyway.

Taking a breather, you allow him to close the gap, but before you are able to turn and run away, he throws the pile of snow in your direction, scattering like fallen snow around you. Even in the moonlight, the snowflakes glisten brightly. The similarity between the snow and stars in the sky in uncanny, the scenery so beautiful that it’s as if you’re in a dream. Not even the heavy breathing can deter you from appreciating the sight of in front of you. You are so focused on everything else that you don’t notice Jiwon come up beside you, slipping his arms around your waist as he spins you around. For a split second, both of you seem to forget about the incident, now lost in each other’s presence, simply enjoying being with one another on this fine winter night. As he turns on his feet, he clumsily trips on himself, sending you both falling into the snow. Albeit facing the threats of frost bite, the position is delightfully comfortable as if you were lying on an actual bed, with both of you staring up at the night sky. Dark clouds of various magnitude invade the inky blackness, covering every constellation and shining planet, becoming victim to their somber opacity.

Both of you lie there for a while, basking in the serenity, and as the clouds continue to roll over, storm on its way, you feel the sudden urge to return home. You had an amazing day and considering that these would now become your first memories, you only think about the upcoming days, weeks, even years, and the many other adventures that have yet to come.

Far in the distance and in the vastness of the sky, you notice tiny specks contrasting with the dark clouds, and it isn’t until they are mere meters away that you realize that snow is beginning to fall. All around you, flakes land, but when one lands at the tip of your nose, a shockwave courses through you, from your head straight to your toes. The sudden jerking movement alarms him and in seconds he is at your side checking to see if you’re alright, but when you don’t immediately respond, he is conflicted with fear.

Ever since he brought you home, you haven’t once complained to him about feeling pain. Thinking back to the amount of activity from today, blatantly ignoring the nurse’s words, he realizes his lack of consideration might have actually made your condition worse.

“Jiwon…” Before you realize, the tears are streaming down the sides of your face burrowing into the snow below. The tears become choked sobs for every attempt at holding them back, and while becoming so overrun with emotion, you only yearn to be held in his arms. Without having said another word, he lifts your body from the ground, cradling you against his chest.

“What’s wrong, please tell me what’s wrong…” He pleads, voice shaky.

You can feel everything, see everything. You know exactly where you are. And you know exactly who’s eyes those are.

In the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the clouds, he tries his best to read the expression on your face, but he can only make out the fear and confusion, missing the special glimmer in your eye that he had been searching for all along.

“Ji-won… I remember… I r-remember everything.” You pause marginally in a fit of hiccups, giving him a chance to absorb your words. The moment you see the slight quiver of his bottom lip, a sudden rush of guilt floods your system.

“I’m so s-sorry. I was s-so stupid, I wasn’t thinking, and I p-probably scared you so badly, I just can’t believe all of that happen-” Grabbing the sides of your face, he crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every word and sound.

Upon hearing those words, he nearly lost himself, the mere thought of having you back pushing him over the edge, enough to do something he had been dying to do since he first realized he had feelings for you. Just like he imagined, your lips are soft and unlike the surrounding air, they are as warm as can be, likely more sweet than any of the items sold at the festival. Even for you, the kiss is magical, unlike anything you could have imagined, the way his lips fit perfectly with yours, his movements in sync with your own. The kiss itself is forgiving, as delicate as the wind itself, and if it wasn’t for the cold nipping at your exposed skin and the threat of frost bite, you would be convinced you were floating on clouds.

Despite his utmost desires, Jiwon breaks away, looking you directly in the eye for any signs of wrong doing, and when he sees nothing but sadness, he becomes apprehensive. He has wished for this for so long, so much that it got in the way of putting you first, and without knowing how you feel, he is unsure of what to do next. All he wants is for you to know that everything is alright, and that he will always be there for you, but because of his impulsiveness, he feels your friendship slipping from his grasp.

“I… I want to talk about earlier, Jiwon. I’m sorry for being so cold…” Several tears fall from your eyes, taking solitude in the confines of your ears. “I just… I was scared. I was scared… of my feelings for you. I’ve never felt this way about someone before and I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I thought if I just removed myself, I could figure it out, but it only made it more complicated,” forgetting to breathe, you suddenly choke on your words, the icy wind constricting your lungs, “I’m sorry that I put you through this, that I made you worry, that I hurt you, dammit, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you…” Taking a deep breath, you struggle for air, and with the flood gates still open, it becomes difficult for you to concentrate on the words you truly want to say.

“Shhh… I need you to breathe. Breathe easy. Because everything is okay.” Watching you break down like this hurts him deeply, cutting at the deepest parts of his soul, but to hear you admit your feelings is one of the last things he ever expected.

Holding you close against him, face buried into the plush of his coat, he watches as the descending snowflakes scatter with the wind, dancing in synchronization and floating delicately to the ground. Despite having the love of his life in his arms, sitting peacefully underneath the clouds in the snowbank, his opinion has not changed: he still hates winter.

#netkon #ikon #bobby #ikon bobby #jiwon #kim jiwon #jiwon fluff #bobby fluff #jiwon angst #bobby angst #ikon scenario #ikon fic #bobby fic #jiwon fic #bobby x reader

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carlynagisa · 5 years

Text

Secret Valentine fic~ I didn’t fall for you you fucking tripped me!

Summary: How to get one Nakahara Chuuya to agree to a Valntine's date: Fall for him. Literally. Or how Dazai Osamu broke his ankle and miraculously healed in the span of an hour.

Pairing: Dazai/Chuuya Rating: G - General Audiences Warnings: no warnings apply :)

Notes: Dear @nakaharali-chan I’m your Secret Valentine and I hope you're happy with this happy fluffy skk piece! Unfortuately you didn't give me any prompts so I kinda winged it? Also greetings to the entire SKK Trash discor server, you guys are pretty damn cool!!

Hope you like it and enjoy!!

AO3

“Who in their right mind thought that class at 8 am in the fucking morning was a good idea?” Chuuya grumbled while basically slumping into his seat, just seconds before the bell rang. His head fell onto the table in front of him with a loud thud, body and mind too tired to lift himself up.

Tachihara next to him only raised his brows slightly before sliding his spare coffee in front of his tired friend. “I much prefer this to Fukuzawa-san’s 8 pm class. Now that’s suicide.”

Regaining his senses enough to smell the heavenly scent of the freshly brewed coffee in front of him, Chuuya dragged his head up, bleary eyes turning to the other redhead while blindly groping for the beverage in front of him. “Okay, who are you and what happened to Tachihara? Did you murder him?” He yelped after taking a generous sip of the coffee, belatedly noticing that it was still quite hot – definitely freshly brewed. At least he was awake now, albeit slightly.

“You’re way too cheery.”

Tachihara’s fingers drummed on his table. “Dude, isn’t it obvious? Today is Valentine’s Day!” He gave Chuuya an incredulous look once realizing that the other wasn’t impressed at all. “Don’t tell me you forgot about this, mister popular?”

Was it already too late to reassign to another class, preferably later in the day? Chuuya could kick himself in the shin for his naivety while deciding on his college classes.

He chugged down the rest of the coffee – albeit it was still too hot and surely burned more of his taste buds than it should – finally able to face his classmate and the rest of what was to come.

“You mean the overly commercialized fake holiday that is supposed to celebrate love but rather celebrates capitalism in all its glory? How could I ever forget about that?”

“So you forgot about it.”

“Entirely.” Chuuya let out a deep sigh before bending down and sifting through his backpack. “Imagine my utter joy when I was nearly jumped by a freshman that tried to shove chocolate down my throat. Or when an entire group of sophomores literally ganged up on me.”

Finally he found what he was looking for. Without a word he threw a bundle over at Tachihara’s confused face. “You can have it.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance at the thought of those stupid hopeful girls that declared their undying love to him without ever talking to him, let alone getting to know him. Was everyone going crazy today?

Unclasping the bundle, Tachihara let out a whistle while studying the amount of chocolate that was wrapped in it. “And imagine that the day only started. Give me some of your popularity?” He said while inspecting a piece of especially colorfully decorated chocolate. “Think I can give this to Gin?”

“You want to ask her out?”

“Yeah.” Poor guy, he’d never stand a chance.

“She’ll eat you alive.”

“That’s why the chocolate! She’ll hopefully be busy with it. And let’s hope her brother doesn’t find out first… He won’t only eat me alive but rather roast and cook me before that.”

Chuuya laughed at the image of Akutagawa Ryuunosuke letting out his wrath because his little sister was being courted. That wouldn’t be the first time, Gin was rather popular these days.

Chuuya snatched a piece of innocently looking chocolate which he held out for the other redhead. “Then you should give her this. Dark chocolate is her favorite.” She’d kill him for the fancy colorful one. “Although. isn’t it pretty impudent giving her chocolate that isn’t even self-made?”

“We don’t want to let it get to waste, huh?” Tachihara winked. He wanted to say something else but the professor used this exact moment to make his entrance. Chuuya knew that he was in for an interrogation later. He slumped on his desk once more and let out a deep huff, this was going to be a long day.

“Sooo,” Tachihara began after the two left the room to get to their next class. “Mister popular.”

“Stop calling me that,” Chuuya groaned. He hated that nickname. It wasn’t his fault that the female student body was way too hormone ridden to just leave him alone and became especially obnoxious during this time of the year. He wasn’t even that good looking! And definitely not nice enough to them to warrant such behavior. Why they were so fixated on him was still beyond him.

At least he was not first place on the popular bachelor scale, and yes such a thing did exist. This arguable honor went to a true idiot who might have sported the good looks and the brain but had a rather rotten character. That guy cut a swath through girls’ hearts and completely acted on their foolishly adoration towards him. Chuuya was always very adamant not to get thrown into one pot with the likes of him. Stupid bastard.

Dodging another incoming underclassman who surely wanted to give him even more chocolate, Chuuya hurried through the corridor. “I still don’t know what they want from me.”

Tachihara was hurrying along next to him. Chuuya noticed the bewildered look with which the other fixated him even without turning towards him. “Um, hello? Maybe because you’re quite hot? Ah, no homo, you know?” Chuuya rolled his eyes at that but snorted regardless. “Seriously, you’re one of the best-looking guys here. And it seems like you’re forever single, so you’re not only available but they also want to be the one person to break your unattainable bad-boy status.”

That statement stopped him. Chuuya would like to defend himself for the last part – while he dressed rather scandalous, leather jackets and chokers were among his favorites, and yes, he liked to smoke – he wasn’t a bad-boy by a long shot. He even helped out at volunteering jobs, thank you very much.

But the first part was much more concerning. They stood in the middle of the hallway in front of the stairs now, effectively blocking the way.

“Tachihara… available? Seriously? You do know I’m gay right?” The redhead was pretty sure that the whole college knew about his sexuality by now. He wasn’t keen on hiding it, what was the point of it anyway? Which made it even more surprising that the girls seemingly tended to flock towards him.

Tachihara next to him laughed awkwardly. “Of course I know! I’m pretty sure they also know about this. It’s just…”

“Just what.” It was a growl now.

“It’s just,” and now the other was definitely looking away on purpose. “Don’t explode, Chuuya, okay? It’s just that they have this weird fantasy about you. You know, making the gay man falling for them, being that special girl and all that shit.” What the fuck?! “And then there are the yaoi fangirls of course, who just have those weird fetishes.”

What. The. Fuck.

If Chuuya’s mood was bad before, now it was below zero degrees. “What the fuck? I’m not some fetish come true? What is this Fifty Shades of Bullshit?”

His friend pointedly looked at the ground now. “It’s just what I heard. Apparently people fall for this kind of set-up. B-but I’m pretty sure that people just love you Chuuya, you are pretty awesome. So, just accept some of those Valentine gifts and give them a chance?”

Fuck this shit. Fuck this entire day. He had enough.

He couldn’t help letting out another growl while twirling towards the stairs. Chuuya had enough.

“Fuck this shit. I’m going home.”

“B-but we still have class?!”

He. Had. Enough.

“I don’t give a damn! I’m going home, avoiding this entire Valentine shit. I’m tired of people proclaiming their baseless love and people ‘falling for me’.” Because he knew this wasn’t true. Chuuya had been unloved for his entire 22 years of living and it wouldn’t change just because he was giving chances. So far nobody had really fallen in love with him anyway.

“And for your information-“

“Watch out!!!”

Chuuya’s tirade was cut short rather abruptly by a loud ruckus and an even louder voice yelling before he was hit with what suspiciously felt like a steamroller and fell to the floor with a crash.

Thanking his quick reflexes that supported himself on his elbows, thus saving him from most injuries, Chuuya still found himself face-front on the cold floor which surely hadn’t been properly cleaned in a long while. Absolutely great.

Even better, the heavy weight on his back indicated that whoever had the genius idea of flinging themselves down the stairs a little too fast and therefore tumbling them down instead of using the proper way had landed much more comfortably than himself.

“Oops,” the person on his back laughed. “That’s not the downfall I was expecting.”

“And what did you expect instead?” Chuuya grumbled, still lying helplessly on the ground. The nerve! Whoever this was, they clearly were in no hurry to get up and moving.

The person – definitely a guy – hummed. “If I had landed only a little bit more face-first I could’ve easily broken my neck; if you wouldn’t have stopped my fall that is.”

“What a wonderful thing that I was in the right place and cushioned your fall, huh? And I still do by the way!” If Chuuya was close to erupting earlier, now was the perfect moment to finally let it out. Which guy would be this obnoxious to-

“Wonderful?? More like tragic! You ruined my opportunity!”

Ah. Dazai Osamu then. Just peachy.

Was it something about today or was it just the universe or whatever karma there was that decided it would be fun to fuck over Chuuya completely on this so called holiday? Who else could have done such a stunt and accidentally fallen down the stairs at the exact same moment Chuuya was passing them but Dazai freaking Osamu, school’s resident genius slash lunatic and to the redhead’s begrudging admittance the real number one heartbreaker of their college.

Accidentally my ass, Chuuya thought, this was definitely another one of Dazai’s famous suicide antics. Could he not have jumped down the building instead? And he surely must have seen Chuuya, right? So why not wait until the smaller male had been out of the way.

Oh yeah, Dazai was an asshole, that’s why.

Said asshole apparently found Chuuya’s still lying form rather comfortable, at least he made no indication to move.

“Ah! Is that you chibi?” Another thing about Dazai: Chuuya couldn’t stand him. School playboy or not, his character was just obnoxious and generally off-putting. “What are you doing down there?”

“Obviously I’m enjoying the view. The ground is rather comfortable, why don’t you join me, bastard?”

That finally got Dazai to move. Even if it meant that the brunet was suddenly appearing up close in his point of vision.

Dazai cocked his head to the side, studying Chuuya with a one eyed glance. It seemed like the idiot had hurt himself again, half his face was hidden under bandages and a big plaster. It matched his appearance wonderfully, with all the other bandages around his arms and neck and god knows where else. Either Dazai was the unluckiest person on earth (and that was rather impossible, since Chuuya was positive that he currently took that spot) or he was even more freakish than everybody thought.

The girls seemed to like it at least.

The redhead couldn’t figure out if the other found what he was looking for, but Dazai suddenly shook his head while his gaze finally left Chuuya. “I think the floor is nothing for me, chibikko, but whatever floats your boat.” Still he made no attempt to stand up.

Hushed whispers harshly broke Chuuya’s own stare and brought his attention back to his surroundings. While definitely not a shy person and generally immune and uncaring towards any kind of gossip, it was hard to ignore the whispers about how two of the most eligible bachelors – who couldn’t even stand each other all that much! – of their entire college were randomly lying in the middle of the corridor together.

Shoving Dazai away from him for good, Chuuya hastily rushed back to his feet, brushing off imaginary (or not so imaginary, the grime on the ground was very real after all) dust. Tachihara next to him chuckled. “So now it’s not only the girls falling for you, huh?”

“Oh shut up, you asshole.” It was in good nature though. Tachihara wouldn’t make fun of him in earnest. Hopefully nobody else in the perimeter would. They wouldn’t dare.

All except one.

“Which girl would ever fall for someone that small? They’d have to bend down all the time like they’re talking to a child!” Thankfully Dazai was still in a wonderful position seated on the floor, perfect for Chuuya to kick him in the hip.

“You shut up as well, bastard. What are you still doing there on the floor?”

The other made no motion to move at all. Instead he only raised his arms at Chuuya expectantly, depicting a strange picture of a one-sided hug.

“Waiting for you to pick me up, obviously. I might have twisted my ankle during the fall and can’t walk, silly.”

Chuuya’s ears were growing hot, a clear sign for the upcoming blush that threatened to erupt on his face and that would clash horribly with his hair. He was overly aware of the student body that still watched the scene playing out attentively. The gossip would only grow worse and worse now.

After still not being picked up, Dazai started sporting a very obvious pout. “Since it’s your fault, chibi, you should at least help me up.”

His fault?! What the hell? That idiot had fallen on him!

“You fell on me!”

Tachihara next to him mumbled “Don’t you mean for?” Chuuya gave him a nasty look.

“But Chuu-yaaa!”

“Don’t Chuuya me!” Embarrassment now fully visible on his face, Chuuya hastily dragged Dazai up towards him, ignoring how the other rather tried to hug him. “I’m going to drop ya!”

Apparently the other male had really hurt his ankle in some way, – or he was acting fantastically, this was still Dazai they were speaking of – he heavily winced once Chuuya tried to let go and his right foot gave out under him. “Ouch ouch ouch!”

With a heavy sigh Chuuya moved one of the taller one’s arms around his shoulder. Fucking lanky people. “Stop acting like a baby, it’s your own fault.”

Dazai hobbled rather unsuccessfully on one foot. “I already said that it’s your fault! If it hadn’t been for you I would have fallen on my neck, hopefully breaking it, and I would not have a broken ankle now!”

“Hell, it’s not broken! But I’m still letting a doctor check you up.”

By now there was at least some movement regarding them. Dazai was even more useless than before but Chuuya slowly got them moving, albeit slowly. Not quick enough to escape the ever growing crowd around them. At least nobody would try to give him chocolate now…

He waved Tachihara goodbye, promising his friend to catch up with him once he delivered the annoyance on his shoulders to the doctor’s office.

Except, they did not go there.

Oh no, after half the way freaking Dazai suddenly decided that he would rather not see a doctor at all. Possibly broken ankle or not.

“You even get another stupid bandage for your growing collection!” Chuuya was exasperated. But Dazai wouldn’t budge, weight suddenly slumping around his shoulder, threatening to drag him down like a sack of potatoes.

“Nah. Don’t wanna.” Stupid pouting child! Chuuya should just drop him-

“I know!” Dazai suddenly beamed, picking up his weight again. “Since you hurt me, chibbiko, you should make up for it. You can take me out for a consolation date!”

What the-

And that was the story of how one Nakahara Chuuya suddenly found himself roped into a Valentine’s Day date with his worst enemy after falling flat on his face.

He wasn’t sure how Dazai had gotten Chuuya to agree at all. Maybe it was the puppy eyes… maybe it was Dazai acting like a sack of potatoes again. Anyway, he ended up seated opposite of one Dazai Osamu, hesitantly sipping on his coffee while the other happily slurped on an overpriced latte abomination.

Dazai suspiciously didn’t mention his hurt ankle anymore.

Instead, he talked about everything and nothing. After an hour, Chuuya already knew everything about Dazai’s latest obsession with Instagram food blogs (yes, of course the brunet took a picture of their drinks), how boring his latest literature classes were ever since Oda-sensei left to teach grade schoolers instead (Chuuya found their current literature topic, European poets, rather fascinating) and how drowning was apparently a less painful suicide method than asphyxiation via plastic bag (Chuuya had NO opinion on that one).

It was rather fascinating.

At first, Chuuya had felt utterly uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than leave. What was he supposed to talk about with a person who shared none of his interests, moved in entirely different social groups and with whom most if not all his conversations so far consisted only of jarring insults and merciless teasing?

It turned out that there was no need to think up topics to talk about at all. Dazai kept up a pleasant flow of talking, even asking Chuuya questions and for his opinions rather often, initiating a real conversation after a while.

Dazai himself suddenly seemed to bloom, his entire posture was more relaxed than Chuuya had ever seen and the disinterested and cold look in his one visible eye slowly grew more and more warm and cheerful. Chuuya on the other side felt more and more comfortable and dare he say intrigued by the enigma sitting in front of him.

All in all it was… nice.

At least until the implications of the calendar date changed their dynamics in the form of a cheerful server in a dreadfully pink apron.

“Hello you two!” The light-haired server beamed, holding a plate in one hand. “And a happy Valentine! You two make a wonderful couple! Treat’s on the house!” With a beaming smile he placed the plate onto their table, winked and skipped back to the counter towards a disgruntled dark haired male who sported an equally awful pink apron and who hit him on the head after the waiter tried to jump him.

Dazai’s eye became impossibly big as he studied the chocolate mousse in front of them. Chocolate mousse that was shaped like a heart… Chuuya’s stomach suddenly jumped.

Ah yes. He totally forgot about Valentine’s Day. It was rather nice not being flogged by pushy girls for once. But this…

“Say Dazai…” Said brunet raised his head in question after taking more pictures of their dessert. “Did we just go here because you wanted free food?”

Dazai laughed – Chuuya couldn’t tell if it was real or fake. Dazai wasn’t easy to figure out.

“Of course!”

Ah, so that’s how it was. It was too suspicious after all that Dazai would suddenly go on a date with Chuuya and have fun with him without any ulterior motives. Even if those ulterior motives were just free food, the smaller male couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappoint and… hurt?

Pff, as if, Dazai and he weren’t even friends. They were more like enemies, not being able to stand the other for longer than a few minutes. Of course the other was only playing around. And if he got a kick out of playing stupid gullible Chuuya, all the better for him. Consolation date, my ass.

Deeming the pictures he took good enough, Dazai decided to dig into the chocolate mousse, very visibly enjoying its flavor. He even moaned a little in satisfaction.

“Aren’t you eating?” Chuuya didn’t even touch his own spoon. He was not hungry any more.

“No you can have it.” Well, he had taken the other out and even paid for their drinks, that was good enough right? Then he could leave now and let the other be, his ankle seemed good enough to get going.

Standing up, Chuuya reached for his jacket when a hand suddenly gripped his wrist tightly.

“Don’t go,” Dazai murmured, spoon and dessert abandoned.

“Didn’t you get what you wanted?” Chuuya mumbled, trying to drag his wrist back towards him. “You don’t need me anymore, I already paid-“

“I said what I meant.” Dazai’s grip tightened, the look in his eye now determined. Chuuya noticed how its warm chocolate brown color turned dark. “I wanted to go on a date with you. I want to be here with you.”

“Yeah right, you just wanted me to pay for you.” He knew that he sounded bitter but Chuuya had his fair share of disappointing dates so far, guys and girls alike who were either in for his looks or just to use him to pay for all their commodities. “It’s fine, I had fun and this was probably the best Valentine’s Day I had so far. To think that a commercial fake holiday and your company could be fun! Thanks for that I guess. No need to play nice anymore.”

The hand on his wrist finally loosened its tight grip, instead Dazai used it to shield his mouth and chuckled.

“Oh my god, Chuuya’s cute.” It took said person a moment to realize that he had not misheard and he seriously got called cute by Dazai Osamu. And judging by his earnest laughter and again warm eye, he was serious about this. That was quite the step up from being called short or a slug. Cute, huh?

Sensing Chuuya’s surprise, Dazai elaborated.

“I literally fell for you, doesn’t that account for nothing?”

Fell… for him?

Wait a second.

“You didn’t fall down the stairs by accident?” Could Dazai really be such an idiot?

“Of course not! I already told you I did it on purpose.” He was really such an idiot. “I just didn’t do it to try to kill myself for once though, it’s rather that I saw you standing there and was like ‘why not?’”

Why not? What. An. Idiot!

“You flung yourself down a staircase just to get a date with me?”

Dazai even had the nerve to look proud. “I sure did!”

“And you couldn’t just have asked me out like a normal person?”

The proud smile faltered. “… I could have?”

With a deep sigh, Chuuya slumped back down onto his seat, finally taking his spoon in his hand. Deliberately ignoring his opposite’s gaping stare, Chuuya dug into the rest of the previously abandoned chocolate mousse, letting out a small moan himself when the sweet taste exploded in his mouth. This was heavenly! He decided to let Dazai hanging until he finished off the rest of the dessert on his own, not even throwing as much as a glance at the more and more restless brunet.

Only after he dropped his spoon and licked off the leftover chocolate on his lips (Dazai’s eye followed his tongue; Chuuya did do it deliberately of course) he turned towards the hopeful male.

“Maybe. I probably would have said no, who knows. But your plan was not really nice.” Chuuya raised an eyebrow, Dazai’s hopeful look did not falter though, he knew the smaller one well enough to know that he wasn’t serious.

“I’m sorry!” Dazai whined, playing along.

Hook, line and sinker.

With a big grin on his face, Chuuya stated. “If you’re really sorry, you should prove it.” His confidence was finally back and it felt good.

Dazai was sporting an equally wide grin now. “How?”

“Take me out on a real date. No stupid Valentine’s Day, no scheming and lying.” Chuuya motioned towards Dazai’s now clearly fake ankle injury.

“And you’re paying. I have expensive tastes.”

Everything today had tried to piss him off as much as possible. Chuuya deserved some piece after such a day – who knew that Valentine’s Day might turn out to be more than a fake commercial holiday?

“Who would’ve thought…” Dazai mumbled under his breath, still not low enough not to be picked up by Chuuya.

“Last chance,” Chuuya shook his head. “How about Friday?”

Dazai slowly held out his hand, with that warm smile on his face again that made Chuuya’s stomach flutter.

“It’s a date.”

#bungou stray dogs #soukoku #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #skk #bsd #secret valentine #writing #fanfiction

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chychylover · 5 years

Text

The World Ends With Xion

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422160 Also Posted Here

She thought that the afterward would be colder, or that the heart would be warmer. What Xion felt instead was all senses ripped from the core that created the feeling of existence. The only thing the former puppet could see was light. The color white dominated her vision until nothing else remained.

~~~

Even though the world around Xion was warm and bright, she still felt like a solid singularity, a speck of darkness that would taint the area she now inhabited if nothing changed.

Before she could even debate on ridding herself of her own existence, a small sound started to break through the silence that dominated the void. Even though there was no more body to call her own, she thought she heard the crashing of waves.

~~~

“I AM ME!”

The familiar shout surfaced the former puppet from her peaceful slumber, causing the spirit that was still oddly Xion to take notice of the new entity that had started to work its way into the white space. A flash of gold caused her to feel a sense of longing. When the blur finally cleared a small shape of a boy came into view. His anguish started to taint the edges with shades of grey, with every part of his emotions starting to bleed color into what was once a nearly pure oasis.

Without even realizing it, Xion desperately threw her hand out to try and calm the boy from his sorrow. Though in her mind she had finally gotten a hand back, it passed harmlessly through the kid who had a more physical presence in this land. He grabbed his hair and started mumbling, the echo of his words leaving nothing private.

“Why couldn’t it have been me? Is this it? Is this all I have left? Axel…”

The name stirred something to burn inside her core. Nothing could have stopped her from to try to hug the boy again. No matter how hard she tried and how much she tried to speak, nothing reached him. With a small sigh, the nameless boy got up from where he was kneeling and clenched his fists.

“I’m going to fight. I need to know if this really is the end for me and the beginning for him.”

With a flurry of movement, the blond boy took his stand and brought a shining light into his hand. Throwing a movement across the sky he brought out the dead of night. That darkness cloaked his hometown clothes in a shadowy robe that felt familiar and right to Xion.

As he leaped into the depths of this world unknown she had an idea of the boy’s name, “ROXAS! WAIT…” but it was too late. He vanished into the mysterious space while her voice carried unheard throughout the prison she had started to call home.

~~~

After the boy… Roxas… had left, the world felt emptier than ever. She had given up imagining a physical existence for herself and stayed content as a piece of darkness. The world of grey that Roxas had left behind became her comfort and new space to pass the time. Sometimes those shades would radiate pain and sorrow, but she took everything it had to give so emotions would be part of her being once more.

After an unknown amount of time, Roxas finally came back, but he looked like someone who had finally found peace. His dark robes were gone and the pain that used to almost make up his entire existence last time he had arrived seem dull and less present. He sat down in the grey corner and looked up into the void as his physical being started to disappear.

“Heh…” he sighed as he noticed himself falling apart. “I wonder what it’s going to be like being a part of his heart again. Even though I’m fine with this, I somehow feel… sad…”

That feeling identified as sad shook her to the core. Though she knew nothing about him except his name she… it… wanted to bring some happiness back into the boy’s eyes at least once. H-The Darkness circled around before nestling close to his face and letting a piece of warmth it had saved since coming to this place and passed to the sad person. His smile was faint, but it was worth it in the end.

His disappearance should have stirred something more inside the core of its being, but Darkness had no emotion if it's own, so it must have been something the boy had left behind.

~~~

“In Sora’s Heart is a Home”

The whisper was something The Darkness hadn’t heard in a while. Voices were a rare occurrence that pierced into the white void. Something harsh and hot shot through space and caused the world to reopen. A bizarre situation happened where colors and shapes started to flood the former void. The grey sections that had always persisted melted into tones of reds and oranges before deserving away into yellow sands.

Before The Darkness could try and retreat, it saw something that didn’t look like it belonged. Laying in the specks of orange it somehow new was sand, visible but also unmoving, was the form of the boy it had seen a long time ago. As it got closer though, it noticed that it was not the same one it had met. This boy laying in the sand was barely conscious. His hair was a lighter blonde that stood out against the golden grains, with his skin being pale like it had never seen the light of day.

He didn’t turn towards The Darkness, but as if understanding something was in his location he spoke in a tired whisper. “… who’s there?”

The Darkness flickered, unsure of what to do, but in response to the mysterious voice, it moved until it was in sight. His face was expressionless, the slightest hint of blue coming from his barely revealed eyes as it looked in the direction of the new occupant.

“…oh. Hi there. What’s your name?”

The Darkness had no name, or it did, or it didn’t. Confusion afflicted it at every turn. Noticing its struggle, the boy tried to calm it down with soothing words.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to… hmm… do anything you don’t want. My name is Ventus.”

Ventus. A new name for The Darkness to keep to itself. It had a name once. It wanted to respond back and introduce, make a brand new frie-

…noise, the light burned bright, the darkness consumed and…

…she was becoming someone she didn’t want to be, she wanted a ho….

…pe for the future, for her and Roxas and Axel to be together foreve…

…re, bare and broken and lost to the darkness swelling up, it was up to Roxas to end her li…

…fe and sound, safe and loved even if she was gone he would go on with no memory…

The pain of these memories threw her to the ground, gasping as if hit by a truck. Not even the trials of fighting against a close friend winded her as much. She blinked, then realized she wasn’t darkness anymore. Sand between her ghostly fingers parted slightly. Her breath slowly moved the strands of her dark hair.

She looked up at the boy who was silent regarding her new look with confusion. Grasping her chest, she stood and calmed her breathing to answer someone for the first time since she had departed from the world, even as it cracked slightly from disuse.

“Hello Ventus, It’s… haaah… nice to meet you. My name was, is, … is Xion.”

~~~~

Being a present entity was tough. Sometimes Xion felt like she would slip back into the darkness and become one once again. Ventus kept her from slipping away. Even though he sometimes nodded off back to sleep and left her alone, she never felt like he had abandoned her.

What he had shared about his life was odd and sad. His brother in arms lost to Darkness and unsure of his survival. His sister in arms attempted to save them both but is unsure of her fate. Nothing to do but to wait and hope that the boy they both resided in could save the worlds once more. What fragmented parts Xion remembered came at the oddest times. She was patient in waiting for them to return, and Ventus was never bored when she remembered even the most trivial things.

“…and Axel dropped his ice cream from the tower once, Roxas and I split ours in half and put it on his stick so he could have a full one again. He wouldn’t take it at first but… hahaha, you should have seen the look on his face! It was… great…”

She started to slow down in her tale and watch the fabricated waves hit the sand that would never erode. Ventus sighed softly and gave an attempt at a chuckle.

“Your friends sound great. I wonder if Terra and Aqua had met them they would have been good friends too.”

She chuckled and grabbed a bit of sand, pouring some of it on his left hand and slowly burying it.

“I think so? Axel is hot-headed but really sweet. Aqua might have fun meeting him. Roxas was… emm…” Xion hesitated, unsure of how to go about talking about the friend that resembled this tired boy the most.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind that he looks like me. He sounds really cool the way you described him the first time. Nothing like me.”

“Well, okay. Roxas would probably get along the most with Terra. He was stubborn but had a good heart. We always wanted to look out for each other and any friend he would make would be lucky to have someone as strong-willed. Even in my darkest times, Roxas was a friend… to the very end.”

An uncomfortable silence loomed overhead. Memories of her finale never sat well. Her emotions grew cold and her form started to flicker once more. Before the feeling could grow more extreme, Ventus gave a rare nod of his head.

“Ahh, that does sound like an amazing friend. I want to meet him too and introduce him to Terra. When we get everyone together we can go get ice cream and see the real ocean.”

Xion gave her own small smile and kept moving sand over Ventus’ hand as she gazed at the horizon. “This one isn’t so bad, but I agree. We should do it someday, the six of us. It’ll be the best vacation ever.”

#Kingdom Hearts #Fanfic #Xion #Ventus #Roxas #Sora's Heart #Internal Conflict

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keepitdreamin · 5 years

Text

Idir brí is idir muir

(Between sense and between sea)

This skin is not your own. It is your mother’s, dark and silken. It is your father’s, light and rough. It is sewn together, ensnaring, drawn around blood and bones like a cloak against the chill of the constant ocean breeze.

You are born with big eyes. Round eyes. Sad eyes. You cry your whole first year, only quieting at night when your mother cradles you in her arms and croons soft songs till you fall asleep. You do not remember this. You remember the crashing of the sea against rocks, distant and yet so close it swallowed you whole. A different kind of lullaby.

You’re not sure sometimes if your mother even notices the tears that slip down her cheeks as she goes about her day. She’ll be smiling, laughing, playing and yet her cheeks will be tracked by those tears. You think there must be an ocean inside of her and she’s drowning from the inside out, slipping silently and with a smile beneath the salty waves. You hold her as close to you as you can in your heart and soul and try to keep her afloat but worry gnaws at you that you may be the one dragging her down.

You do not know your mother tongue, so you speak your father’s instead and the neighbor’s and the postman’s, though you are never taught them. “Dia dhuit,” you say and “Tapadh leat,” and “Hwyl fawr!” rolling from your mouth with ease. “Oh what a bright boy!” they say, and “You must be so proud of him,” with a pat of your head and occasionally a piece of candy. Your father frowns at you when they’re not looking. Your mother whisper laughs to the baker in a tongue neither of you know, but that you will soon adopt as one of your own.

You wake early, too early for alarms, too early for birds to sing or tea to be brewed. The house is quiet save for the ticking of the old, old grandfather clock in the hallway and the sound of your own feet, padding across the room from your bed and climbing into the chair by the window. You watch the sea from your window, in the dim light of the moon and stars: rough waters, crashing waves, darkness so deep it engulfs everything within it. It may be too early for your house, but the the fishing boats go out before the dawn has broken, before there is a distinction between the sea and the sky. You watch as their lights drift farther and farther out till they disappear. You picture them under the waves, lanterns lighting the way and drawing in the fish like a lure. You picture them in the sky, lanterns becoming the stars and catching birds in their big nets. You fall back asleep as the dawn slowly breaks.

Your father forbids you from taking swimming lessons, from ever getting into that cold, wonderful ocean spray. Your mother purses her lips and looks away but doesn’t argue. You’re allowed on the beach under strict supervision, and any attempts to sneak closer gets a firm yell back. But… when you accidentally fall into a pool at a neighborhood party, you find that you can swim just fine. From around the rushing of water in your ears, you can hear your mother laugh and laugh and laugh.

On your 7th birthday, your mother waits to give you a present till your father is at the pub. They’d already given you some earlier, a new picture book and a stuffed deer, and you can feel that this is more important, more special. You watch in the mirror enraptured as she kneels behind you and carefully clasps a string of pearls around your neck. They’re too long, you think, hanging down onto your chest, but she promises you’ll grow into them. She doesn’t tell you to, but you keep them hidden from your father, taking them out only at night to run your fingers over the pearls, counting one two three to the rhythm of the waves. You say a silent prayer to no one in particular and fall asleep to the constant sounds of the sea.

Sometimes when your mother speaks, her mouth forms around the words awkwardly, syllables dropping like thorns, slicing her lips and drawing only blood and anguish. Her accent, so perfect and indistinguishable, falls apart into something foreign and unknown. So: you learn another language together. One of finger movements and expressions. One that is secret, just for you. Not quite a mother tongue but a mother-son tongue.

Children whisper as children do. They say your mother is a witch or a fairy and that you are a changeling. Strange, weird, off putting. They say worse things too, evil words, the words of adults passed on with malice. You feel like a changeling sometimes, not quite sure where you belong in the only place you’ve ever known. You learn to speak less around them, to hold back your voice to just the one, to make your language match theirs. But even that is too much and you bite your tongue even more, redact your vocabulary, staying quieter and quieter till you hardly talk at all. They call you dumb instead, slow, stupid. You can’t find the right balance. Maybe there never was one.

Your father keeps your hair cut short and you hate it and you hate him, passionately, privately, in that hollowed out space inside your chest. Your mother always wraps her hair before she leaves the house, and you hate that too. You like when her hair falls around her shoulders, half intricate braids and half loose curls, tamed and wild at once.

You are excited to visit the city on an overnight trip with your class, the farthest and longest you’ve ever been from home. But when you’re all herded off the bus and led down the street to the museum, you can hardly breathe. The buildings are too tall around you like you’re just an ant and the air is too hot and tastes dirty and the people passing by on foot and in cars and on bikes and buses are so loud your ears ring and you can barely make out your teachers’ voices. You feel sick, like you might just fall down on the pavement and be devoured whole by the bustle. You manage to hold yourself together though, making your feet move in a straight line beside your classmates, making yourself at least pretend to pay attention to what the teachers and guides are saying, making your face smile when they look towards you expectantly. You are already the odd one out; you do not want to be the one who ruins the trip for everyone else, even though as you walk back down the street, bombarded by the senses of the city, you feel like your insides are tearing themselves apart. Later, you stand at the window of the hotel room--your classmates are talking and laughing and wrestling behind you, enjoying the freedom from parental supervision for the night--and all you see are buildings and concrete, even the sky is blocked out by the light so there’s no stars. You rest your forehead briefly against the cool glass, and you miss the sea like a hole in your heart.

You misstep and slide down the rocky cliff face like the adults have always warned you will happen but nobody’s ever believed. For a moment, you feel weightless and unafraid, and then you crash hard. There’s blood in your mouth but you can’t spit it out. You can’t make yourself move at all. Your face is half pressed against cold pebbles, and through one eye you can see the water lapping at the shore. When you breathe, your chest aches and you’d cry out if you didn’t think it’d hurt twenty times as much. Through your blurry vision, you think you see a seal on a rock, and faintly, as if at a great distance, you think you hear it crying. And then. Nothing. You wake up in your bed, warm and dry. It still hurts but it’s dull, not immediate and stinging. Your mother is sitting beside you, her hand gently, soothingly, brushing back and forth over your head as she hums under her breath. You are lulled back to sleep easily.

For a family tree project, you have to ask your parents where they’re from. Your father was born here, same as his parents and his grandparents. Same as you. When you ask your mother, she looks away, far into the distance where a storm is brewing over the sea. She should be inside, everyone is inside but her—and you out looking for her—standing on this cliff and waiting for a tempest. “Far away,” she says, her voice almost disappearing entirely in the strong wind, the first sign of the upcoming storm. “I cannot remember its name now.” She rests a heavy hand on your shoulder and you stand there together, looking out over the water till the first raindrops start to fall. She barks out a laugh and pulls her shawl over her head before racing you back to the house. You tie, bursting through the door at the same time, soaked to the bone and smiling so hard it hurts. Your father shakes his head disapprovingly in the living room, but your mother ignores him and brings you to the kitchen to warm up. She makes her spicy tea while humming a song you don’t know, and you watch the storm rage outside the window. You don’t ask again.

You know what your name means, though you don’t know when you first realized the significance. Maybe you’ve known forever, prickling in the back of your mind until one day you opened your eyes and saw it. You’ve never asked your mother or your father who chose it, who breathed the secret curse into your name. You introduce yourself, Rónán áta orm. Little seal, little seal, seal seal seal. And you wonder who else knows, who’s pieced together your name and existence to the old legends. You watch your mother watch the sea and wonder how you could ever have not known.

Spring turns into summer, as it always has, as it always will. The sun shines more--or maybe you just notice it more without the constant cold--and flowers dot the hillsides, dancing in the sea breeze. You lay in the new green grass, watching the clouds rolling across the sky and listening to the seabirds and the crash of waves that are out of sight but never out of mind. You’re still, just breathing. In and out, in and out, in and out. You imagine roots extending, growing from your back and arms and legs, cementing you here till you’re part of the land itself. The sun sets. The moon rises with the stars. You watch and breathe and listen to the ocean till you hear your father calling. Your roots retract, and you run home with the wind at your back.

Without shoes, you can feel the shore packed hard and cold underfoot. You run to see how fast you can go, how far you can get; you think you could run around the whole island in an instant if you really wanted to, so fast people couldn’t even see you do it. When you return home, you give your mother a seashell, washed on the shore and left stranded, too high to return with the tide. She cradles it gently in one palm and lifts it to her ear, listening for a message from the sea, before placing it on the kitchen window sill beside other tokens, a piece of driftwood, a painted stone, a flower in a bottle.

Your first kiss is under the full moon, shining down brightly on the small cove you’ve all claimed as your own, far enough for privacy but close enough for safety. You are included--you have been included for a while--because exclusion is a child’s game. There are still whispers and malicious words, but they’re better cloaked now, less direct. You still don’t feel quite like you belong, but you have a place here. A difficult, treacherous place, that is extant only at the whims of others, but a place. The bonfire is shielded from the breeze by the rocks, and it’s built so big that all of you are warm despite the weather changing. There’s alcohol but you’re not drinking; you’ve seen your mother crying into glasses and your father come home late and stumbling too many times to be interested. She has been drinking, only a little but enough that, when she presses her lips to yours for a brief moment, you can taste it, sickly sweet on her breath. You sit with your feet in the cold water and the flickering flame warming your face, and you wonder if this is all life is, all that it ever will be.

When you’re eighteen, you finally find it. In your father’s shed behind a loose board, in a locked chest that you break open with a hammer, your heart beating wildly and palms sweating, lies the sealskin. It’s mottled and dark and when you pick it up, it’s still damp as if it’d just come out of the water. You cradle it close to your chest and stumble on suddenly unsteady legs to the other side of the house where your mother is working in her herb garden. When she hears you coming, she looks up with a reflexive smile that drops in shock when she realizes what you’re holding. You drop to your knees in front of her, the skin suddenly weighing too much for you to bear and she reaches out one trembling hand… but stops just short of touching it. Instead, she cups your cheek, thumb wiping along your cheekbone, and you hadn’t realized you’d been crying till now. “Take me with you,” you beg, voice broken by little gasping sobs, grasping at all your not-mother tongues to plead, “le do thoil. Os gwelwch yn dda. Mas e do thoil e. Please, please don’t leave me. I don’t belong here.”

You know how the story ends. The child finds the skin; the mother can’t resist the call of the sea; and the child is left behind, to only occasionally glimpse a familiar seal watching over them from the waves. You hate this ending with every fiber of your being. But… you know how the story begins. The father sees a beautiful woman dancing with her sisters; he steals her sealskin and hides it away so she can’t leave; and she has no choice, alone and utterly powerless, but to accept the father’s proposals. You cannot ask her to stay.

Your mother leans forward, presses her forehead to yours. “I will never,” she promises through her own tears, “leave you behind. You are a child of two worlds, and it is time you learn of that.”

This skin is your own, and, if you’re careful, it will always be your own.

#short story #selkie #i'm about to submit this so it's basically the final draft #also i found a better title #my writing #mypersonalthings #monster hunters anonymous

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ruckusheaven · 5 years

Text

A Coon In A Colorful Heaven: Chapter 6- “Purposely Purposed Purposely..”

Coon- A black person who is ignorant to white discrimination and unknowingly suffers with self hatred.

This Chapter continues to follow the Eternal story of a man named Damien. When we last saw Damien, he had finally met his Great Great Grandfather Julian. His Grandmother Lisa had Julian summoned so that he could help educate Damien about colorism since Julian use to believe in that mindset when he was alive. But getting through to Damien proved to be somewhat of a challenge until Damien’s Great Cousin Claudia came and showed him her life as a slave. Damien got to see and feel a glimpse of what she experience but it was so much that Damien almost Broke. The Family must now figure out a way to educate Damien without breaking him and before he fully deteriorates....

“GG” Grandfather Julian: This boy really is something special. You mean to tell me that this man went all or at least a majority of his life never experiencing any major amount of Grief, Depression, or Heartache.

“GG” Grandfather Julian: So this lil nigga just been getting slight headaches and shit like that his whole life??

“GG” Grandma Lisa: No Julian i doubt that. But it’s very strange that he hasn’t felt any serious pain. Or perhaps he just pushed thing away so deep that he couldn’t feel those pains, plus always avoiding them.

Uncle Craig: Well Grandma you know where we come from. It’s not like he didn’t have access to plenty of ways to drown out pain or run from it..

“GG” Grandfather Julian: I get that but come on. This was a Black Man that lived on Earth in America. A BLACK. MAN. IN. AMERICA. Last i checked black folks still getting killed over racism only dropped by 15% so how the hell did this negro not feel Grief from that alone.

Aunt Tanya: Probably the same way he thinks that colorism doesn’t exist. By ignoring it

Damien: *wiping his eyes* Can you guys not talk like i’m not here

Aunt Tanya: Trust we haven’t forgotten

Damien: Look i obviously couldn’t ignore the shit that happened to black people. Some shit was out of line that were just racist but there were alot of things that black people did that they caused themselves.

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Ok so he a Coon Coon huh

Aunt Tanya: I been said that

Damien: Can y’all not call me that..

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Why not? The name fits perfectly. You’re a black man that is ignoring racism and its affects while also suffering from it

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Boy you are literally deteriorating because of it

Damien: No im deteriorating because all of this is confusing. None of this makes sense ok?

Damien: I just died and got into Heaven just to get a history lesson.

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Damien.. you’re here because part of you doesn’t feel like you belong here and another part doesn’t know why

Damien: And you think this drawn out family gathering is helping?

Damien: Look i understand the stuff black women went through, I have Claudia to thank for that. But I don’t see what this has to do with helping me in the long run.

Damien: I want to see Veronica, i want some solid answers not these discussions on racism from a family that i barely knew!!

Uncle Craig: ...

Aunt Tanya: ...

???: If that’s what you think you need to see then fine..

*Angie Walks through the crowd of family*

Angie: I will show you where she is at but you may not like what you see *places her hand on Damien’s shoulder*

*A Gray and Silver Light Crashes down taking Damien and Angie downward*

“GG” Grandma Lisa: I sure hope my Grand Baby is ready..

“GG” Grandfather Julian: He has no choice but to be at this point...

-Within The Gray Beam-

Damien: Where are we going and why does this feel slower than any other time we’ve been beamed away

Angie: Where i’m taking you is outside of Heaven... A realm completely for her..

Damien: So Veronica isn’t in Hell?! She made her own zone and everything?

Angie: Not Necessarily... Listen Damien what you’re about to see maybe hard..

Angie: Veronica... well.. I guess it’s best for you to see..

Damien: oook?...

*The Gray Beam light lands and dissipates, Leaving Angie and Damien behind*

Damien: Where are we now.. *looking around*

Angie: Well.. we’re in her purgatory..

Inside the room Damien and Angie were in seemed very similar to the judgement room. The room itself was very wide but felt small. The air felt cold and sharp. The colors of the walls were gray and blackish, like milky smoke on fire. The walls themselves seemed alive as the colors moved and broke apart within them. And in the middle of the room stood a Black Orb, levitating off the ground.

Damien: What is that *staring at the Black Orb*

Angie: Thats.. that’s Veronica..

Damien: *Looks at Angie* What... how is that Veronica *stares back at the orb and begins to run towards it*

As Damien ran he felt his energy begin to fade. Every step felt heavier than the last. The closer he got the more overbearing it became.

Damien: *falls to his knees panting* what the fuck is going on... why do i feel so heavy

Damien: My feet feel like clumps of wet clay and my body feels like it has a hundred pounds on it..

Angie: *walks next to him* This is her Purgatory, Her Zone of sorts. It effects everyone that is in it and each Purgatory has it’s own affects.

Damien: Then why are you perfectly ok?...

Angie: Because i’m a Angel. Our Energy far outweighs yours for obvious reasons. So rooms or zones like these can’t affect us.

Damien: Well since your an Angel that seems to have all the answers then explain that thing *points to the Black Orb*

Damien: How the Hell is that Veronica? It’s not even a person.. it’s just some big ball of energy

Angie: And what do you think Humans are? What do you think your Soul is made out of?

Angie: Everything that was or ever has been is made up of energy. From your skin, hair, blood and even the air you breath. Energy makes up every part of it. Life is made out of energy.

Angie: All death is, is the loss of certain energy within you that breaks down and is taken away from you. Your Core... Your Soul.. it’s you’re unique energy that leaves your body and is brought to Your Judgment Room.

Angie: Heaven, The After Life, Reincarnation. What happens to your energy is completely your choice. Depending on what you believe in, you could have became one with the earth and became a tree. Nothing is impossible in that regard.

Angie: *pointing at the Black Orb* That is what happens when the energy doesn’t believe it belongs anywhere..

Damien: So this is her Hell?

Angie: Not really.. It’s like an in-between. Hell is when the energy or soul of a person refuses to believe or accept what they’ve done to themselves or others. Their energy becomes so twisted and broken that they cocoon themselves in an endless void as their energy breaks apart spreading out throughout the void, searching for something that isn’t there forever.

Damien: That’s not what i was ever told..

Angie: Well your kind mostly used the idea of hell to control people with fear. But even still you guys wouldn’t have been able to fully comprehend Hell until you got here.

Damien: Then whats happening to Veronica?

Angie: Veronica accepted all her faults kinda.. she was equally as twisted as you are when it came to knowing and understanding certain things.

Angie: But the amazing part is that she could recognize and acknowledge the confusion or lack of understanding. But she didn’t want to change either..

Angie: She saw no point in changing... no point in understanding. She felt nothing..

Damien: Nothing.. *tries to stand* how could she feel nothing..

Angie: It’s how she was raised and lived. Your energy and soul is sculpted by your experiences. Energy is pure and malleable, but can be fixated and unchangeable depending on what happens.

Angie: She spent her whole life cutting things off that she didn’t understand or want. Whether it was memories, emotions or people. She was able to completely rid things out of her life that she felt didn’t matter or that was un-needed.

Angie: You could imagine where she got the blueprints for that from *looks down at Damien*

Damien: *looks down at the ground*

Damien: So... her soul became this black orb..

Angie: More like she’s within the black orb *kneels down and opens her hand in front of Damien*

*Light Begins to form around Angie’s hand*

As light began to circle around Angie’s Palm, a distinct yet hazey image began to form.

Damien: Veronica!

A clear image of Veronica began to form in Angie’s hand. The Image showed Veronica curled up in a fetal position wrapped around black thorn like vines. Her legs and part of her torso fazed in and out, like smoke dissipating and reforming; as her face continued to break and crack into random black pieces only to quickly crash back into place.

Damien: What the hell is happening to her

Angie: There’s no human word to describe it honestly.. Her energy is basically confused, searching, disappearing, connecting, breaking and stopping all at once.

Angie: This is what Purgatory is for her.

Damien: What.. what happened to her? How could she become like this..

Angie: Sadly there’s no easy or short answer for this

Angie: But there is a way for you to understand *places both of her hands on Damien’s head*

*Both Angie and Damien Vanish into and old apartment*

Damien: *standing up fully* this?... isn’t this my old apartment

Angie: Yes, Yes it is. Back when you were 26 and still with Lexis

Angie: *Opens a door* back when Veronica was only 5

a little girl is playing in her room. The room has dirty stained walls covered in Bratz posters a mix of celebrities and kid drawings. Her bed is neatly made with a small old tv across from it and one window next to the bed. The carpet she’s sitting on is raggedy and hard with small stains randomly on them.

Damien: Oh my god... Veronica *tries to walk forward but is unable to*

Damien: What the hell is going on? Why can’t i walk forward?

Angie: While inside this Memory Realm you cannot freely move. This isn’t something she is controlling, we aren’t even able to feel what she felt. Technically this isn’t her Memory Realm, its more like re-watching time itself. We can’t interact but we can view it and see what she saw.

Young Veronica: *playing with Barbie Dolls and singing to herself*

Damien: What point in time are we at exactly?

Angie: The day she began to realize her life and the world around her...

???: *slams door* Fuck you! This isn’t the life i wanted, this isn’t the happiness i wanted!

???: *opens door and stomps after ???* Not the life you wanted? This is what you chose! From me, to your job, to living here and having a daughter. These were all your choices!

Young Veronica: *peeks her head outside into the hallway and watches*

Past Damien: Regardless of everything you’re saying, i’m not happy period! No more no less!

Past Damien: And if i’m not happy then i don’t need to be here.

Lexis: So you’re just going to leave!? What about me and your daughter!

Past Damien: What about you two? One is a mistake and the other is a responsibility that i never wanted! But to be honest those could fit both of you at this point.

Lexis: You Piece of shit!! *begins to flare her arms, hits Damien in random places*

Past Damien: STOP! I’m not playing with you!!

Lexis: *Continues to swing* Fuck you Damien! You’re no better than your father!!

Past Damien: I said STOP! *pushes Lexis hard*

Lexis: *stumbles back tripping over a chair and bangs her head against the edge of a kitchen counter*

Young Lexis: *makes a small gasp while covering her mouth*

Past Damien: Lexis.... Lexis.

Lexis laid on the floor almost lifeless as a small amount of blood began to run down her neck

Past Damien: Shit... *quickly grabs his keys and runs out the room*

Young Veronica: *walking slowly towards her mom* mom..

Young Veronica: *tries to lift her mom up by lifting up her head as blood runs down her hand* mommy?....

Angie: The day that changed her forever.. The day you left...

THE END OF CHAPTER 6

#vol 1

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indieks · 6 years

Text

Silent Treatment 🔇 Mark Tuan || Part.1

💭 Pairing : Mark Tuan x Reader

💭 Genre : Angst, Fluff, Supernatural-ish

💭 Word count : 11k.

💭 Synopsis : Ever since his accident, he has forbidden himself from speaking ever again, as his voice hasn’t been useful the time he had needed it the most. Until he meets you, the one and only girl that could possibly help him overcome his trauma, as you make his heart and mind want to speak up again. You, who can hear his deepest thoughts through your special ability, yet still doesn’t see him as a desperate mute, but a mysterious man worthy of your care.

💭 Notice : The sentences written in bold are Mark's thoughts, and when *written like this between stars*, it means the character can hear them.

Part 01 🔇 Part 02 🔈 Part 03 🔉 Part 04 [END] 🔊

💭 A/N : I’m back!!!! Finally, I’m writing for GOT7, I’m so happy! This time, it’s a short series (normally 3 parts) that came up into my mind a long time ago but without the knowledge of where to take it nor who to choose… Until I finally opened my eyes on my own bias that suited the story too damn well, and helped it growing on its own…

I just wanted to add that I would never pretend that I know about psychology and how to treat patients! Everything comes out of my pure imagination! And please, if you ever feel bad for any reason, reach out, you matter! ♥

Thanks for ever reading this! As usual, I hope you’ll like it, and any comments, good or bad, are welcomed! I love your feedback ♥

Disclaimer : For the first time in my life, I can proudly say that the GIF is mine!

The young man was sitting lazily on the leather couch, his eyes deprived from any light or life, with his fingers gently scratching the damaged pieces of fabric that were soon going to fall to the ground.

"Hmmm I see..." the psychiatrist mumbled as he wrote down some key words on the blank sheet in front of him. "He still doesn't want to speak?"

"No, doctor. I've tried everything I could. When I'm forcing him a little or approach him too close, he pushes me away pretty brutally... I don't know what to do anymore."

"And what about his best friend, J... Jason? Jason is that it?"

The mute had been about to break his vow of never speaking ever again in order to correct that annoying error, but he bit his bottom lip right before doing so, only glancing at the doctor who gladly caught that small reaction.

"Jackson, and he's doing really fine! He keeps on telling him that he doesn't blame him... Why would he even–" his dad sighed. "They still are best friends, well, at least I hope so... They used to laugh all the time, the house was so lively whenever the whole group of friends came, but ever since Jackson got out of the hospital, each one of their visits has been them talking to a wall and leaving with an upset expression on their faces..."

"How long has it been since the accident? Two months right?" the doctor asked while swinging slowly in his black chair.

"Yes..." the father answered, his voice trembling and, anticipating the fall of heavy tears that had accumulated under his tired eyelids, he grabbed a tissue from a box on the desk in front of him. "Two months since my wife died... And two months since Mark hasn't said a word."

The eyes of the said Mark landed on his father's back, whose shoulders were so down that he could clearly see how heavy the weight he carried on them was, and his heart squeezed in his chest.

"Mark? Can you come forward for a second?" the psychiatrist and hypnotherapist, Dr. Woodam Hwang, called for him along with a motion of his fingers signaling him to sit on the empty chair across his father's.

Mark executed himself, all the while looking at the ground as he exhaled quietly, and he sat on the chair, spreading his legs nonchalantly. After the tatters of the couch, he started to play with the ones of his ripped pair of jeans, not showing a bit of interest in the man in a white blouse facing him. Everything coming from his demeanor and facial expressions could tell how annoyed he was to be here and to have those psychiatric sessions that were far from helpful, at least in his eyes. Two months and four different doctors without a concluding diagnostic had passed ; why his father still hadn't given up on him just like he himself had?

Like the previous times, the doctor would pretend he knows everything that was stepping on his mind as well as the reasons he was doing this to himself, but up till now, it only had been wrong assumptions.

Like the previous times, his father would believe in the doctor's words, as they sound pretty right when they're coming from a professional's mouth. And because he can't talk anymore, Mark won't be able to tell him how ridiculous the diagnosis was, nor to explain himself.

Like the previous times, the link between his father and him would only shatter even more, destroyed by Mark's silence and the scary names that were given to his "sickness", or "trauma" as they say.

Aphasia, check ; temporary disablement, nope ; post-traumatic syndrome, maybe… Four doctors, and none of them, after having gone around those popular medical possibilities, had saved a final solution to the main problem : Mark had made a choice. None of them, had found the key to unlock his blocking that made him aim to shut himself up, forever.

So, in the end, Mark was once again going to be everything the doctor would want him to be. Two had said it would stop "sooner or later", remaining the vaguer possible – probably to get his father's hopes up ; and the other two had somehow reached the truth, as they had concluded that no one can really do anything against the power of human's will – at least without using force.

But still, where all of them had went wrong anyway, was when they had prescribed him a psychiatric treatment in the end – to cash the check, right? Or was it really because of their duty to take care of their patients, even the lost causes like him?

And, like the previous times, this psychiatric treatment wouldn't work, because Mark wasn't sick ; he was doing this voluntarily and didn't want it to stop. And that, his father either refused to accept it, or wouldn't believe it.

"I'm not expecting you to talk when it's only our first session together, Mark. But I'm going to deliver you my first conclusion, and if you don't agree, or if there's anything you want to tell, write it down there."

Dr. Hwang slid a blank sheet of paper along with a pencil in front of the empty-looking boy who nodded without great conviction. Mark felt the hopeful look of his father on him burn his cells, but he didn't mirror it as he laid back in his chair, waiting for the fantastic diagnostic this doctor would have reached. He quickly eyed the pin on the man's blouse and almost rolled his eyes at the sight of its lettering.

A hypnotherapist? Seriously dad?

"The shock must have affected you a lot, and I totally understand that. But what I'm fearing right now, is that it is transforming into a trauma that would block you for life..." the psychiatrist started, his eyes going back and forth between the two gloomy men on the other side of his desk. "Everybody knows that the loss of a mother is really hard for the child, whatever age he or she is, but even more when it has been as brutal as what you went through. In fact, the main problem is, that you were present when it happened."

Mark finally looked up to gaze at the serious doctor's face, who bent forward to lay his elbows on the desk, linking his fingers together as he was slowly reaching the heart of his analysis.

"And what I think is that... You feel guilty. For not having cried for help when you should have in your eyes, because you were the only one that was still conscious when the car crashed. I think, that you believe that you speaking is useless now, because your voice hasn't been of any help at that time. You believe that she died because of you, so overall, you feel guilty for having survived, and not her. Am I wrong?"

Shit, that bastard. He's… right?

Mark only shrugged before looking away from the doctor who smiled quickly, feeling proud to have seemingly pinpointed the problem.

"But what I believe, Mark, is that your mother surely wouldn't want you to inflict this to yourself."

He caught the angry stare of his client and it made him even prouder. He was getting closer.

"I believe you're too young to waste your life like this. Do you know that it is only normal that you didn't cry for help? You just had an accident, Mark. You were upside down when they found you that night ; you were hurt and shocked as well! Yes, people came late, but they still did, and it saved both your life and your best friend's! You shouldn't feel guilty for that, but lucky!"

Mark felt a sudden wave of rage running in his whole body. What did he even know? Was he there? He hadn't been that hurt, there was the proof : he only stayed three days at the hospital, while his best friend laid one month in a bed and his mother... His mother...

"I know. I know you're deadly mad at me right now, and you have all the rights to be. I saw how you had been about to curse at me earlier when I misspelled Jackson's name, so I know you can talk. I know you can, but you won't. And my job consists in, helping you. So I'll try to help you as much as I can. I'll help you until I've found the thing inside of you that would make you want to talk again. You're a good person Mark, I can see that, as you take all the blame for yourself. But let me help you overcome this trauma, will you?"

I'm not sick. I'm not traumatized. Leave me alone, fuck.

Unexpectedly, a quiet sob broke out, and when Mark turned his head to the left, he spotted his father hiding in his coat's sleeve, a hand up in the air to excuse himself, as he was crying. The only time Mark had seen his father cry, in his whole 21 years of existence, was no other than at his mother's funeral. Not at the hospital when the doctors had pronounced her dead, not on the first night they had spent home without her presence to lighten the mood, not at the church when they had celebrated her beautiful personality and heard touching speeches on how a good woman she was, no ; at the cemetery, when her coffin had sunk deeper and deeper into the ground. When he had finally realized that she was gone.

But there he was, the proud and strong man he had always been, crying in the doctor's cabinet because of him, again. Mark's own tears were about to come out, but he rolled his eyes in the back to prevent them to do so. Because of me. I'm the one who should've died.

"I think we should at least try, for you, but also for you and him" the doctor smiled. "You're 21, so I won't treat you like a child. I can't impose you to come. It's only up to you, Mark."

Mark hated this idea. He wanted to be left alone and live his own life as a mute ; hell, he was fine like that! He grabbed the pen in front of him and was about to write an immense "BULLSHIT!" that would have taken all the paper before crumpling it and throw the ball at the psychiatrist. Yet, as he caught his father looking at him expectantly, the tears now wiped away from his face but his eyes still shimmering with hope and something near a plead, Mark resigned himself and reluctantly wrote a small "ok.", and he heard the doctor sigh in contentment.

"Fine! I'll set you an appointment in two months. You can come, if you want to."

Two years later

He approached his face to the mirror, searching meticulously for any sign of tiredness that needed to disappear as soon as he'd went out the door, because he hadn't the right to be tired. His boss had been kind enough to accept him in spite of his disablement, so Mark felt like he had to do extremely well as a payback.

Suddenly, the bathroom's door creaked and Jackson pushed it open, the morning's mist still readable in his squinted eyes, and after having blinked a few times to get accustomed to the light, he finally recognized his best friend that was looking back at him.

"Oh, hi Mark, woken up early" his raspy voice managed to be heard and Mark chuckled before reaching out his hand, waiting for their own greeting.

A few tricks of palms and fingers later, they both were now brushing their teeth with their eyes closed, undeniably wishing they could've stayed longer in their beds.

"Why do we have to wake up and go to work or classes, huh? I'm going to collapse sooner or later" Jackson whined with his toothbrush still in his mouth, but Mark kicked him in the arm before placing a finger on his frothy lips, signaling him into the glass to make less noise. "Ah right, the boys are sleeping, them, at least."

Mark had moved out of his house seven months ago, right after he had finished his cooking distance lessons and found his job as a kitchen clerk – if he wasn't dishwashing during the worst days – in a restaurant downtown. It was the perfect job where he didn't need to talk, as he was only executing orders without questioning. The perfect job that also fitted him and his lonely character, as he was most of the time left alone while preparing the steps of one meal or dressing up the plates. That, was the only thing he was thankful for Dr. Hwang, who had come up with a great plan B when he had dropped out of college – to his father's despair.

He was now living along with his six best friends in a huge colocation that was noisier, cheerier and livelier, yet more comfortable than with his own father. Some would say he was avoiding him like a coward as well as the tensed situation he had come to build between them ; still, his true friends right here had deeply understood when he had explained in their groupchat that he felt the need to leave, persuaded it was for the better.

He hadn't expected a positive response from each one of them when he had randomly offered to move in with him, as he still was thinking he was an ultimate burden for everyone he was close to, even more now that they had to speak through messages or properly learned – yet personalized – sign language. However, here they were altogether, and Mark could really tell the difference : he could finally breathe.

No more duty to go the appointments with Dr. Hwang every two months in order to please his dad ; no sensation of guilt every time he would catch him looking at pictures of his mother, still mourning two years after that ; no need to see him desperate as he was facing the non-evolution of his son's situation. He loved his father, deeply and truly, and that's why he felt even more satisfied that he had left, as he was sure it was taking a thousand of worries out of his mind.

Also, Mark had turned 23 years old, and his young adult's aim for independence had dragged him out of his house full of sorrow. His days were no longer guided by the routine of his distance learning for the cooking diploma – sending pictures of his creations and being with people only for the final exams had truly been better than dealing with his disablement at college –, nor by his fucking psychiatric sessions – seven months he hadn't gone to one, oups.

Now, he was a full-time worker, earning his own life, and living his youth the best he could with what he allowed himself to have. He mostly had a social life thanks to the random parties his roommates would throw from time to time at the apartment with their other friends, or the late-night snacks he shared with them before TV series, or the beer-and-chicken after dinner – if there even was a dinner ; sometimes the boys were too lazy or tired to cook.

Because aside from those six dorks, Mark hadn't made any acquaintances, not even at work where colleagues remained colleagues, as even if they were all really kind, the barrier of his silence and his secretive personality were making it difficult to get close to him. And unfortunately, his will to speak again was nowhere to be seen.

Deep inside, Mark had been in perpetual suffering and blocking, his dark thoughts resurfacing more frequently than what he had expected, even if Jackson was doing more than well now, and his mom was surely resting in peace. Even if his friends were trying to reach out to him and make him talk sometimes, once he was drunk or when they had serious conversations about life, hoping their mate would break his walls and finally let go.

Mark hadn't put any efforts in his psychiatric sessions, and while Dr. Hwang clearly knew about that, he hadn't given up on him. Every two months since he had left his father's house, Mark had been receiving a small text reminding him there still was an appointment reserved for him – same time, same place – and that it would be the case until he clearly tells he doesn't want to come anymore.

Nevertheless, Mark had always left the psychiatrist on read. Not that he thought of returning anytime soon, no – maybe ? –, but because every time he had been about to turn it down once and for all, the face of his father had popped up in his mind, and he had been unable to do it. Guilt. Always that fucking guilt. His father, whom he lied to when he was telling him he had went, as the latter wasn't accompanying him anymore under the doctor's wish. For now, he had been lucky enough that Dr. Hwang hadn't said a word about it, but for how long…

Bzzt bzzt.

Is it this time of the month already?

Mark looked down on the sink where his smartphone was placed, and when the screen lit up, he indeed saw the text popping up and he swallowed a sigh. Maybe I should tell him I won't come anymore. Maybe it is time.

Jackson had looked down too from the corner of his eye, and if he had bit back his tongue for the past three sessions, this time he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Aren't you going to go?" he asked while combing his hair.

Mark looked surprised as he addressed him a curious gaze, his brows up on his forehead, so Jackson grabbed the opportunity to go on.

"I wasn't going to say anything but shit Mark, I know these appointments are doing you good bro!" he half-exclaimed half-whispered, and suddenly his friend's expression turned into a pissed one.

No they don't, Mark implicitly answered with a move of his head and index from the left to the right.

"Yes, they do."

Silence. Jackson sighed as he was searching for the right words to say now that he had opened his mouth.

"You know… Shit, I'm telling you I don't care." he muttered in a low voice at first, before looking straight into his best friend's eyes. "I heard you talk a few weeks ago, in your bedroom" he bluntly confessed as he crossed his arms on his toned chest.

***

Indeed, one night, Mark hadn't been able to sleep. He had tossed and turned in his bed, sometimes looking at the ceiling of his empty bedroom, sometimes scrolling down his social media, sometimes putting his head under the pillow. Numerous thoughts had crossed his mind, out of nowhere, from his souvenirs with his mother, to some with his friends from back then, to the work he would have to do only in a few hours. And to add to his suffering, his throat had been terribly sore. It had burned and itched, and after some clearing of it, Mark had been surprised himself when his voice had come out.

Out of curiosity, with his heart pumping in his chest to the point it felt like it would tear his ribcage apart, Mark had dived under his sheets and, once he had been hidden like a child in his hut of blankets, he had dared to talk, after two years and a few months of locking up his own instrument, of sewing his lips, of punishing himself.

"A-A-Aaah. Aaaaah. Ah. Oh shit I can talk. Shit shit shit. That's weird. Fucking… weird. Enough now. Ouch, it hurts… Oh god it's… so weird. I should stop now… They're going to hear me. Why can't I stop? Stop it Tuan. Oh… fuck."

Putting a hand on his mouth, a heavy-breathing Mark had finally stopped ranting as soon as he had felt some kind of pleasure in talking again, because if he really did, he knew he wouldn't be able to stick to his vow anymore. So he had laid back on his pillow with his mouth still covered, his eyes wide open in shock and the tone of his voice piercing his eardrums. No need to say, that he never found sleep.

***

"What?" Mark's eyes told Jackson.

"Yes I did, and because I'm smart I let you live. I was fucking shocked too you know, I just woke up to go to the bathroom and when I heard your voice in the middle of the night, I got scared at first, thinking someone was there!"

Mark blinked a few seconds more, and for the first time in their friendship, he felt uneasy under Jackson's eyes that clearly were daring him to try and lie about it into his face.

"Look, even if I still think that's nonsense, I can continue to respect that you don't want to talk. It's been two years already but well, I can try to get that. But you have to understand that it's pretty frustrating to know you actually talk to yourself, when even with us you don't..."

The fake mute quickly grabbed his phone and started typing something hastily, too irritated to think of the hands' moves he had to do to depict what was on his mind.

"It was accidental, and it only happened once! I didn't talk to myself after that! And I won't!"

He showed the memo piece right under Jackson's eyes, which he instantly rolled before sighing loudly.

"Don't tell me it didn't feel great when you did! It's been two years, you can stop now! I'm doing fine, your mom's in peace, why are you doing this to yourself?"

"You know why" Mark simply wrote after having snatched the phone from his best friend's hands which had been up in the air from frustration.

"No I don't know anymore! Let's count down the reasons you shouldn't be that way : she was the one driving, you were shocked, pretty hurt too, nobody in this situation could have cried for help, we are alive, I can walk and dance, it was an accident…"

The skinny man's hand suddenly hit the glass and the noise resounded in all the room, making Jackson jump in surprise before he took a few steps forward to firmly grab Mark's shoulder. The latter didn't shove him away, as he was busy dealing with his heart that was vibrating along with his arms because of his clenched fists. He exhaled slowly so that he wouldn't smash the mirror into million broken pieces, just like he were.

"Mark. I'm sorry but you leave me no choice. I won't repeat it twice. It's either you go to this session and the ones that will follow and try a little bit harder to overcome whatever is blocking you, either I go myself and tell what I heard to the doctor. And I might tell the boys as well, and they won't leave you alone, especially Jinyoung and you know it, he's still actively searching for a way to make you talk after two years."

Mark straightened himself and he turned around to face Jackson who gulped in anticipation, because even if he was being straightforward right now, deep down he knew the risk he had taken by digging up the past to finally let it all out.

"You gotta be kidding me right now" Mark carefully wrote this time before showing up the screen, his eyes darkening with annoyance second by second as he watched Jackson's next moves.

How could his closest friend do this to him? He felt betrayed at the highest point, and the Chinese boy in front of him could read it in his turned off eyes that targeted him.

"No, I'm not. I want you to feel better. Don't tell me you're fine as it is, I'm done with this bullshit. Go. To. This. Session. Or I'm waking them up right now."

Mark didn't want to. He hated being treated as a mentally ill patient. He was fine. He had a job, he had true friends, and he had a nice flat, what else did he need? Yes, this memory still tortured him, but how talking again would do him any good? It wouldn't change what happened, would it?

However, now that he was facing this ultimatum that was more challenging than what he had expected, now that he could decipher on Jackson's traits how worried but determined he was, Mark's weaker side took the best of him and he was about to give in.

"C'mon. Grant me like, five sessions, where you actually make an effort. And if in the end I am wrong, I'll let you live as I always have" Jackson's raspy voice pierced through the thick silence that had settled for long seconds after his threat, and slowly, Mark nodded with his brows furrowing, showing his reluctance as he did. "Yes! You'll thank me later!"

And with that, Jackson left the bathroom in a dancing pace to go change, leaving a numb Mark that couldn't think about anything else but the session that was tomorrow. Not even about the fact that the clock had been ticking with all this mess going on, and that now he was almost late.

Grey. The sky was just grey. A light tint of grey with a glimpse of gold, the one that could hurt your pupils and burn your eyelids if you stared at it for too long. But still, it was a pretty grey. The sun's rays shined right above the accumulated clouds who luckily hadn't cried yet, making the overall light outside so bright, and leaving a calm veil over the town in the streets of which you were now walking with a smile on your lips.

The only thing you were hearing was the loud music in your earphones, its volume almost turned to its maximum, but you needed to make sure your eardrums were focusing on the singer's voice and that only. Not on the million concerned speeches of the people buzzing around you – like it had done lately, to the point it had given you headaches. Well, now that you were thinking of it, it had been a while since you hadn't heard a single unfamiliar voice infiltrating your head before those constant hummings, another one than your own that is.

Your godfather, who was a talented psychiatrist and hypnotherapist you were really close to, had told you that you were gifted once he had acknowledged that you weren't crazy. Because as crazy as it sounds, ever since you were little and without you being able to explain why, you could read minds. No, more specifically, you could hear the negative thoughts of people you came to know personally, without them wording it to you.

It seemingly depended on two things : either you had a sufficient bond with the person – a classmate you saw each day, a friend, a lover…–, either they had so many bad thoughts that you couldn't help but hear it. So sometimes, just talking to them or greeting them shortly once made their worries, their pain, their boredom, their anger flood through your ears.

At first, your parents hadn't believed you when you had told them you could "hear voices" while everybody in the class was quiet, and that it was disturbing you so much you couldn't concentrate on the lesson. You didn't have any idea of whose voices it was or what they were saying, as you were too young to master your power and focus on it yet. However, firstly when they had seen your grades dropping from your lack of understanding of the teaching ; and secondly when they had witnessed themselves your ability the day you had repeated word for word what they had thought deep down after you had complained another time, they finally had let go of their rational side in order to help out their daughter.

They did a great job at protecting you, not even talking about it to their closest friends, too scared that anyone could become a greedy enemy once they got to know that the supernatural did exist, or that, even while being of good faith, they would spread the news so that soon enough you would have been under the spotlight, exposed as an alien or whatever gifted child the medias would have labeled you, stealing your childhood and putting you at risk of scientific experiments.

But in the middle of all that implicit protection you hadn't seen, you yourself still had to deal with those non-stopping rantings into your head. And as a young and innocent child, you couldn’t know the harm it would do to you once you tried to help the others. You couldn't understand the concept of privacy, nor the one of family's secrets, nor the idea that you alone couldn't find a solution to everyone's problems.

Still, you tried to, with your school's friends and their own little concerns – not that being hungry and craving for something to eat was difficult to solve –, but when it had come to really mean yet childish comments about someone into their heads or more serious problems, you quickly had started to feel depressed to know of the dark side of this life and world, moreover because you couldn't do anything about it.

You still remembered that friend and classmate of yours back when you were in 3rd year of primary school, who had constantly been complaining to herself about how bad her arms hurt and how much she didn't like her father when he hit her and her mom and yelled at them ; and every time she had been watching other's loving dads at the school's gates, you had heard her envious comments. So one day, as you had finally seen him coming to pick her up, not a smile to curl his lips as you had approached him along with her who had been looking at the ground, you had blurted out :

"Why are you hurting Myeoli, mister? She's hurting, why?"

Your own father that had been standing next to him had suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you closer, apologizing on your behalf with his heart beating loud as he had quickly gotten a hold of what you had been insinuating. It had been innocent, a true and thoughtless question from a kid who couldn't quite understand what domestic violence was at that age, and while your friend had looked at you with surprise and fear pulling her traits, the scary man's face had decomposed itself for a second before it turned into something unreadable.

And unexpectedly, you had caught only one of his thoughts : "So you're talking about it to your friends, huh? Let's see if you would want to after we go home". Little did you know what it had meant back then ; but the next day, you had caught her covering some blue bruises while changing for the sports lesson, and overnight, she had started ignoring you and never talked to you again, because she would have been "beaten to death" if she did, as you heard.

And then, with the bond being broken, with her striking you out of her life, you had stopped hearing about her concerns, while the situation the little-you couldn't have saved anyway, never ceased. It was another aspect of your weird power, its capacity to turn off as unexpectedly as it had turned on with someone. It looked like you only had one shot to repair the person's situation, and with her, you had missed the target.

After that girl, you assumed the thing you had was a serious deal. After that, your parents took you to your dad's best friend who also was your godfather, a psychiatrist and hypnotherapist who then was eccentric enough to believe into psyche and any mystic thing that could explain your ability. After having listened to the whole story and without even using his hypno tricks, he confidently told you he would help you deal with it thanks to the bit he knew about it.

And he did. Thanks to him, you learned to focus on some voices only, but also to shut every one of them up whenever you didn't want to know. Because the more you grew up, the less you wanted to know. Indeed, when you finally understood the notion of intimacy, you felt awful for trespassing it even involuntarily, mostly because it was with your own friends. You felt as if you were a traitor only building unhealthy relationships where the person couldn't help but getting naked in front of you, and that even before she had legitimately granted you the right to see her wholly.

On top of that, hearing all the misery of the world pulled your own moral down, because the sensation of being powerless while facing the worst situations ate you. And even when you tried to help, it only resulted in you being hurt because you had given too much of yourself doing so, either as some people took advantage of your kindness, or as you got way too implicated.

However, at some point, you had had enough. Enough of being kind and understanding, enough of having headaches by trying hard to ignore the constant white noise in your ears, enough of dealing with people's shit and whines when you had your own to begin with. This angry state of mind along with the will to throw your Mother Teresa's costume out the door once and for all made it harder and challenging for your godfather's helping words to reach you. Still, he didn't give up and kept on telling you how and when you could use it in a way that would make you proud because, as he loved to remind you, you were gifted.

And in the end, you had been left with no choice but to grab his hand, and you learned to use it more than to duct it. You learned to feel things. To feel when your friends truly needed your help and support, so that you could permit yourself to open your ears and, instead of bluntly revealing what you knew, you threw clues at them that you were getting the problem and were here for them.

To feel when you definitely had to shut the voices up, mostly when it came to acquaintances or the people you cherished so much that it killed you to violate their intimacy – you first had tried it on your godfather himself, successfully. And when you caught something bad but not on purpose, just because of your loss of focus, you learned not to feel guilty, nor to take it to heart or too seriously.

"We have over 60 000 thoughts going on our minds per day, Y/N. How can you believe each one of them is accurate, is full of sincerity, or is actually what's the person's thinking?" your godfather had said once, leaving you speechless, as always.

And when college time came along with the choice of your main course, you picked yours without hesitating, the one leading you to become like your role model : your godfather himself. You decided you'd help people every day but through your job – "without cheating" like he would say – as you had now developed some true psychologic and understanding skills without even using your power, and you liked it. No, you loved it, helping people, finding solutions, removing some burden off their shoulders and seeing their faces lit up.

So right now, your 23 year-old self was on its way to Dr. Hwang Woodam's cabinet with pressed strides, as it was the first session of many more he had proposed you to attend after classes, in order to build yourself a better idea of the job. Many sessions which would lead you, hopefully, to being a well-prepared and irreproachable psychiatrist at the end of your diploma.

The second you slid your headphones from your skull to your neck, murmurs joined the sounds of the busy town you were in and you frowned. It was really weird. How come you were hearing random voices now? Or had you met every single human being in this huge town? Impossible. You knew your power was constantly evolving, changing its characteristics whenever it wanted to, but what you couldn't stand was the fact that you felt like all your hard work to control it was in vain. You sure would share a word about it to your godfather at the end of the day.

You pushed his cabinet's door at 1:59pm precisely and, the second he saw you come in, a smile lit up his face.

"Y/N! My lovely niece, come here!" he called for you as you hurried yourself before him, and he held you in his arms. "We don't have the time to chat as the first client of this afternoon is already here, but let's have dinner together after that, okay?"

You nodded as you retreated, and you thanked him a thousand times when you saw he had prepared your own little desk next to his, with some files waiting for you to go through, an empty notebook with a beautiful cover, pencils in a little pot and a mug waiting to be filled with whatever would help you stay awake throughout the afternoon.

You immediately started to read the first patient's folder, and its seriousness instantly plunged you into the intensity of the job. If sometimes you had thought you were having a hard life hearing negative thoughts all the time, you once again reminded yourself that if your godfather had been that helpful with you, it was because he too had a hard time dealing with this, yet he still did, without failing or complaining. It was so fascinating, but you could already guess how tiring it should be.

Because hypnotherapy had become a trend nowadays, some patients that came by merely had problems, or ones you didn't consider as really serious psychologically speaking, so you allowed yourself to stop taking notes of the sessions in order to read further the upcoming cases. And one particularly grabbed your attention, because of the number of missed rendezvous – already three? –, as well as the question marks next to a list of the patient's "potential syndromes" on the front cover.

You discretely put it in front of you and, after having tied your hair up in whatever hairdo that would keep them from your face, you started your lecture of the first page, slower than with the previous ones as your godfather's notes were really intriguing. First of all, the man – named Mark Yi En Tuan – was the same age as yours, so his case interested you even more : maybe you would be able to understand it a little bit better and suggest something this time…?

Wait a minute. Mark Tuan. You definitely knew this name. Where had you heard it? Where did it come from? You kept your right index on the name printed in bold characters before closing your eyes as you searched through your memory, and some bell finally rang into your messy head, making you gasp. You suddenly put both of your hands on your mouth to smother the exclamation of shock that had been about to follow. Mark Tuan, of course you knew him! He had been your crush a little more than 2 years ago at the university!

He was a guy with some crazily handsome features, and you had come to know, while digging facts about him back then, that he could spin swiftly in the air like a ninja and that he was able to speak English, Korean, Chinese and Japanese fluently, without languages studies being his major – what had been his major already...? You had never talked to him, only luckily sharing one English class with him during your 3rd year, where you had first spotted him and slowly went head over heels for his looks, his sexy English accent and his quiet aura that made him even more attractive somehow.

Simply looking at him from afar during a semester, too focused on your studies and your friends to even think of approaching a guy, you still had remarked when he had suddenly been absent from classes during the second part of school year, depriving you from your weekly daydream spent at eyeing him. And later, you had heard the boy had dropped out of college, for a reason you never got to know. Some of his friends were still attending the same university as yours this year, yet they had never shared a word about it to anyone. Not even Park Jinyoung who you knew quite well and talked a lot to, as you shared a few classes with him since he majored in contemporary literature.

Maybe the reason was lying right under your eyes? You were torn between contrary emotions, the embarrassment of being about to read something so personal about someone you "knew", the familiar sensation of guilt you were fighting every single day because of your power suddenly submerging you ; but at the same time, excitement and curiosity were bubbling in your stomach, preventing it from knotting harder and harder under your discomfort. Anyway though, you would eventually come to know about it if he ever passed the cabinet's door so…

… So you opened the file. And the more you were going down the lines, the darker his story was becoming and you felt as lost as your godfather – who was busy transcribing in his own notebook the last session at the moment. Your brows furrowed as you discovered the testimony of Mark's father, telling about an accident in which the wife and mother died. It had happened a little more than two years ago… Mark and his best friend called Jackson – oh my God Jackson Wang? The student council vice-president?! – had been coming back from a trip to China, their flight landing at 2 in the morning, and Mark's mom had been kind enough to come and pick them up before driving them home.

However, the boys soon fell asleep because of the travel, and the mother, from the lack of something to keep her awake, had found her eyelids closing for longer and longer as the miles went by, also tired from this round trip in the middle of the night. And unfortunately, her car had went out of the road, making tons of rolls down to the side to end upside down in the middle of nowhere, at night. Being the only one conscious, Mark had been too weak to come out of the car and crawl up to stop a driver for help.

He had witnessed his mother's last breath, he had seen she was dying under his eyes, and he hadn't been able to do anything, neither his body nor his voice responding. And… What?! He felt guilty for that?

Your eyes almost popped out of their holes as you read, reread, and rereread those last words your godfather had underlined. Ever since, he had been refusing to speak because, according to the diagnosis, he considered that his voice hadn't been useful when he had needed it to be, so it was its punishment. Mark was punishing himself… for an accident.

Why hasn't he come to the last three sessions…?

You flipped the pages that always concluded the same thing : "No progress". It seemed like Mark was really out of reach, but it somehow made you eager to try yourself. You took it as your own personal challenge, and you couldn't wait to see if, today, you would be lucky enough to sit once again in the same room as him. Deep down too, you were eager to see his beautiful face again after all this time.

Your eyes started to look up at the door on your left every two seconds after you had finished, waiting impatiently for his frame to appear. And under the table, you kept your fingers crossed, wishing he wouldn't recognize you nor accept the proposition of you leaving that your godfather had made with every patient up till now.

You were lucky, because Mark did come. At 6:00pm, a really deep, low, and masculine voice resounded into your ears, even if you had successfully suppressed the ones of every single client you had met today.

*What am I doing here… Jackson I'm going to kill you. Why did I oblige? I shouldn't have. Shit.*

Jackson? Jackson… Oh my God! The best friend! It must be Mark!

You bit back a smile and a giggle of excitement as you needed to remain silent during the session going on, still you bounced a little on your chair as you put his file on the top of your pile once again. He had a really pleasant voice ; such a shame he was hiding it from everyone's ears, but it made you even gladder that you had caught at least a glimpse of it. Yet, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing in order to stop hearing him as you had promised yourself you wouldn't use your power if you were willing to be professional. However…

*Great, he's late now. I have the time to go, shouldn't I? It's even more embarrassing now that I skipped 3… Fuck my life.*

As you still could hear him, you realized he should be of the category of people that had so many bad thoughts that you couldn't help but hear them. It alarmed you about his true lack of well-being, because three years earlier, you had never heard his voice inside your head, not a single time. Well, now that you were thinking of it, it only made sense as he presently never let them out, so they surely kept buzzing again and again into his mind.

The patient before him left the room, and if your godfather had been about to sigh in defeat at the sight of his next appointment, when you lightly tapped his shoulder, it was as if you instantly shared your thrill with him before you even had announced the great news, as he felt some chills go down his arm under your touch.

"He's there" you smiled, and Woodam almost jumped out of his chair, his brows up on his wrinkling forehead as he smacked his hands together.

"You must be kidding me?!" he exclaimed a little bit louder than expected, and you eyed the door with concern, worried that it would make the angel-like boy fly away before you even got the chance to watch him land into the room.

"I can hear him. And he's pretty stressed out right now" you chuckled and in no time, your godfather was in front of the door frame, greeting that particular someone with a bright smile.

You stood up, drying your palms that had grown sweaty from anticipation on your thighs and, for the first time in your life, you suddenly stopped hearing Mark's ceaseless ranting voice, but not because you had chosen to ; because it got covered by the loud beatings of your excited heart that sped crazily its tempo the second he entered the room.

Handsome. He still was so handsome, as depressed as he was supposed to be, as affected as he should be, as fragile as he must be. Mark walked quietly in the room at a lazy pace, targeting the leather chair on which he naturally seated, not even greeting you with his eyes that were stuck to the ground – well, no sound had come out from your mouth anyway, as your crush for him was resurfacing and oppressing every single one of your muscles.

He was wearing a black trench coat which length almost reached his ankles, with a black turtleneck under it, and a navy blue pair of skinny jeans suiting his thin legs, ended by a pair of black sneakers that seemed huge on his feet. His deep brown and shiny hair wasn't styled in any way, parting naturally in two after he had combed it with his ringed fingers, and when he sighed discretely, your eyes went down on his face that had dug with time and probably depression, and you almost could decipher the small dots of a beard above his plump lips.

The question was : for how long had you been staring at him to be able to see even those small details?

Too long, obviously, and you realized it when you had to shake yourself out of your trance to notice that the boy was now looking at you with his brows furrowed, while your godfather was smiling at you awkwardly.

"He's okay with you staying, Y/N, you can sit now…?" Woodam tried and you jumped in surprise, looking at him with doe-like eyes before you executed yourself, your head becoming a hot-air balloon about to pop under the pressure and embarrassment.

Woodam has already asked the question? Why didn't I hear it? Y/N, focus!

Mark hadn't recognized you, and it was the only thought that came to soothe your internal lecture and make you dare to look at him once again. However, you hadn't expected for him to be staring at you in return, a curious light in his dark eyes that quickly avoided yours when it reached more than two seconds. He tilted his head to the side and you gulped, scared that he was about to change his mind, because it now looked like your face was familiar to him. Had he paid attention to you back then? Stop it Y/N, you're raving and giving yourself too much credit.

I've seen her before. Where? Where… Where?

Luckily for him, it wasn't a bad thought, so you didn't catch it. Unfortunately for you, though, but you probably would have succumbed to the shock. You needed to suit yourself back into your professional skin, not the one of a ridiculous and immature girl in front of an old crush she should have forgotten about by now. But why did it inch at every end of your tensed body to have him in the same room as you after all this time?

"Well, Mark, I'm really happy to see you today. I must confess that I thought I'd never see you again at this point, but looks like my persistence has won! Here" your godfather finally spoke up as he slid a pen and a few sheets of blank paper along with a book as a hard surface to easy the writing to his patient, who put them on his knees before actually starting to write something.

"Thanks for not telling my father."

You eyed Woodam who smiled warmly and nodded, his chin resting on his hands he had joined.

"I've told you since the beginning that I won't treat you like a child. The only adult I'm doing this to is my niece right here, she's still a baby sometimes even though you're the same age!" he chuckled and you frowned as you felt embarrassed that he was making fun of you before Mark.

This time, Mark clearly squinted his eyes while looking at you, and you read in his pupils that he was analyzing your face in order to picture it somewhere into his memory. Don't recognize me please, I'm a nobody, I swear…

Who the hell is she? *God why am I not good at remembering like Jinyoung or Jackson seriously!*

You gulped and your eyes grew big at the hearing of such a thought, indicating he was indeed investigating his memory because you were familiar. Mark knew your face, a face he was sure he had already commented himself about its prettiness, but why couldn't he bring his memories back together? Somewhere in the mist of his confusion and his deep thoughts, he could picture those two eyes that were looking back at him, still he didn't know which was the right landscape he should be drawing them in. Had it been at the uni? At one of his friends’ party? At a random café?

"And may I ask you why you decided to come back, out of a sudden?" the psychiatrist interrupted his torments and Mark finally stopped staring at you intensely, helping you breathe again as you had started to feel smaller and smaller under his gaze.

As far as you could remember, he already had seemed to be this kind of straightforward and nonchalant guy that was doing whatever he wanted to do and how he wanted to do, not slightly disturbed by the fact that he had been staring at you without blinking, contrary to normal people who wouldn't dare to do the same with strangers, unless they'd feel embarrassed, just as you had been earlier.

Mark drew a line under his first answer, concentrating to make it the straighter possible with his fingers displayed on the sheet to prevent it from moving, and you admired his taste for perfection. While his face was down, you permitted yourself to look him over one more time, changing your cosplay back for the young student with hearts in your eyes before the beautiful guy at school, but you couldn't care less. You loved being a teenager for the last semester you could allow yourself to, before you officially could become an active women, a psychiatrist with her own patients under responsibility and no time for those kind of daydreams anymore.

"Jackson blackmailed me this morning." Mark wrote honestly with a neat writing he showed your godfather, before drawing another line in anticipation for the next question.

You could see it wasn't their first session together, as they had their own codes for communicating, and as Mark was laid back really lazily in the chair that looked like his own.

"Oh he did? I guess you'll have to thank him for me! What was so challenging that you said yes? I'm sorry but I can't help being curious" Woodam pursued in a lighter tone, a smile never leaving his lips.

Mark hesitated an instant, his hair falling before his eyes that hadn't left the paper under them, and he sighed once again.

*He can be so intrusive sometimes…*

You caught that. You clenched your fists, your natural instinct of a niece feeling attacked by this poor remark about your godfather who was nothing but caring, not intrusive.

"He threatened me to tell something to the others at home" Mark showed, and your brows furrowed, wondering what kind of secret he was refusing to unveil fully.

"Oh a secret? A secret between best friends?" Woodam joked and Mark only shrugged, his facial expression telling him he could qualify it as whatever he'd like to. "Looks like it was kind of personal or embarrassing for you to take the deal" your godfather then concluded and you read quietly Mark's face, which changed into an annoyed frown.

The session begun with a few asks/replies that you took note of diligently, yet you quickly got disturbed by an intrusive voice murmuring in your head so many harsh things that became crucial, at least for you. It froze you into your seat, however you were burning with frustration.

Indeed, while Woodam was busy trying to ask him some accurate questions, Mark was literally not putting any effort in the session, keeping every single bit of his true self deep inside, when he should be giving in return for things to progress. When he wrote yes, he meant no, and the reverse. At every assumption Woodam made, he shrugged it off while thinking how right it was and how bad that upset him ; at every proposition Woodam offered, he wrote he'd think about it when deep inside he was already convinced that he wouldn't even give it a try.

In your eyes, what Mark couldn't bear, was the fact that your godfather was seeing a little bit more through him at each session when he didn't want anyone to know, inducing him to close his ears and laugh it off every time Woodam would point out what he had been thinking deep inside. Meanwhile, his voice kept on flooding into your eardrums, filling them to the fullest, with his real pain, his suffering, his self-curses that should have pained you too ; but damn, their roleplay pissed you off so much you couldn't think straight or listen to your kind heart anymore.

Two years had passed since the accident and he still thought he could trick your godfather? Speaking of the latter, why hadn't he broken this dead-point situation already? What ridiculous duet were you witnessing right now? Why was Woodam being way too cautious around Mark when he obviously knew he was faking to be an honest and mysterious man on the outside, making them turning round and round endlessly?

If you could understand the fact that Mark was "traumatized" and would naturally refuse the help from anyone, you couldn't stand him choosing to lie again and again instead of simply having the guts of telling he didn't want it and hated it. However, it went on, this laughable masquerade that did nothing but irritate you more and more as the two men seemed satisfied to be playing the hypocrites.

*What does she want, looking at me like that?*

"Can I ask a question?" you suddenly spoke up after having blocked a scoff, looking straight into Mark's pupils that eyed your figure, and the quick light of surprise that passed through them helped you gain confidence.

"Do you mind?" Woodam asked him without questioning your attempt, his trust in you limitless.

Mark shook his head from the left to the right and with that, you stood up from your seat, your legs surprisingly trembling but still guiding you to lean against the windows behind the desks. You felt thrilled at yourself for being that bold, however it was nothing compared to the flames of anger flaring your guts.

"Could you tell me, would your friends and family describe you as a good or a bad liar?" you asked precisely, on your way to a provocation that would hopefully earn at least a grunt from him.

*What the hell is this question?*

Woodam eyed you curiously, while Mark, the second he saw the proud smirk on your face, lost his composure he had worked on up till now so that people couldn't decipher when he was lying.

"Good liar, I guess, they used to call me poker face" he briefly wrote on his paper, his brows furrowing as he waited for your reply, and Woodam voiced the answer to you.

Weirdly though, Mark's heart started to beat a bit louder and his hands turned moist, as if you actually were putting some kind of pressure on him. He had tried his best not to pay attention to you during the whole session, or else his mind would've lost it from the countless "Who is she?" he would've asked himself. But right now, he wished he had accommodated himself to your presence a little bit more, as the more he was watching you, comfortably leaned back with your arms crossed and your chin up in defiance, the more he felt some powerful aura coming from you, with your eyes clearly lightened by something dangerously passionate, and giving him some chills he had failed to feel since quite a long time. You had such a presence even when your mouth was shut, and unexpectedly, his own turned dry as he started to anticipate what your point could be.

"Oh is it true? Because I wouldn't, truthfully. You're such a bad liar, Mr. Tuan, sorry if you're disappointed" you half joked, stepping to your chair to put both of your hands on its back. "I've met you only a few minutes ago, and I already can tell that you keep on lying. You know, we're only doing our job, and our job, is to help you. And from what I see, either you don't want to be helped at all, either you're scared of being helped. But let me tell you one thing : if you keep on saying the reverse of what's on your mind whenever you step in here, it's not necessary to come at all, we won't go anywhere. I can tell you're lying, Dr. Hwang can also tell you're lying, still you're thinking we're not aware of it? So what is it that you want from us? What's the purpose of all of this?"

Before you even knew it, words had flooded from your burning lips, the annoyance clear in your tone that you still kept as firm as possible so that he would get how serious you were about the issue. You couldn't help anyone who wasn't willing to get helped, that was a matter of fact, even if you hardly could admit it on a daily basis as you still were learning how to let go. But hearing too much of Mark Tuan for non-stopping 30 minutes and getting to know more than your godfather would ever reach even after two years because of his seemingly lack of guts to confront the boy, had made you greedy to be the one to wake him up.

Mark opened his mouth for a short time as if he had been about to protest but he quickly closed it, his lips forming a thin line, yet you caught the beginning of an eye-roll his pupils had been willing to do. Was he pissed at you right now? Was he offended? You'd be glad he could be if that ensured your words had an impact, yet, surprisingly, nothing came to your ears this time. Because, your raw ranting had somehow rang a bell inside of him and if, usually, he could quickly go over the truths Dr. Hwang pointed out about him, yours were resounding into his mind right now, making it turn blank.

However, the backfire of your boldness manifested itself quicker than what you would have thought, since now that the heavy words you had rummaged in your head had come out, the unexpected trance you had been in and that had given you the confidence to talk disappeared as soon as it had bloomed.

"E-Excuse me for a second" you suddenly said, and you rushed to the exit under two pair of eyes that watched you curiously.

Once you reached the empty waiting room, you collapsed on the first chair you saw before letting a long sigh escape your lips as you grasped your hair to get yourself straight. Mark's voice in your head became a distant humming, letting instantly place to a headache you hadn't really acknowledged as you had been too submerged by your frustration, but it was as if your thoughts were finally getting in order. What had you just said?! Mark wasn't the only one who would be lying in front of you later when you'll be seating right behind this desk, so why had you taken it to heart immediately?

"Y/N? What's wrong with you?" Woodam unexpectedly spoke up a few moments later, his tone calm. "Mark's gone now, you can come back."

You lifted your head up to see he was standing in the door frame, his eyes full of worry while yours became veiled by a deep red filter the second they landed on him.

"What's wrong is that I've heard every single thing inside his head, and that he just keeps on lying to you! And you? Why don't you say anything? You know he's lying but still you're not doing anything? I've been quite disgusted by your merry-go-round! If he doesn't want to be helped that badly, why waste your time, both of you? You know we can't do anything for someone that doesn't want to be helped at first!"

Y/N, BREATHE!

"Y/N, you know really well that a lot of patients express their disagreement to get helped because something's blocking them, right?" Woodam answered and some guilt dressed your pupils up, then when he suddenly smiled, you felt your tensed hands on your skull finally relax. "I'm not able to force him to open up to me, still I don't want to give up on him. It's our job Y/N, it's to still reach out to them whenever they need it, whatever time it takes, and even when they can't or won't express it. Mark came today, and even if it was because of Jackson, I had the feeling he was going to come back anyway."

A wave of self-deception crashed against your whole body as Woodam's wise words made you realize how wrong you had been to flare up in the first place. Whatever your reasons had been, as good as they had sounded, you needed to canalize your greed to be helpful that had made you implode like a bomb.

What had disturbed you was one thing : Mark had chosen to stop talking, and he was choosing to lie. No blocking, no post-traumatic syndrome you could treat with the methods they taught you, simply a choice. What he was doing, only him could undo it just by the power of his own will. What could you do against it? Once again, you had felt so powerless, and you hated it ; surely that had been the reason why you got overwhelmed to begin with. You were 23, still you had acted like when you used to be so affected whenever you couldn't decipher a way to help someone as fast as you wished. Bravo.

"I'm going home, I want to reflect back on myself because right now, I'm doubting my capacity to do this job, at all. It seems like I can't be as patient and understanding as you" you mumbled, tears prickling at the corner of your eyelids, and without letting your godfather reassure you as he always did, you walked to the cabinet, grasped your things with a mechanical but strong hand and within a minute, you were outside the building.

To be continued...

A/N : I’m actively working on Part 2 right now, I hope you’ll like me to post it! Let me know? Thanks for ever reading my work, once again!

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