#but also there maybe is a speck of the capacity for love SOMEWHERE in their little heart. MAYBE. if you squint
Note
Same spouse!!!
my personal headcanon is that every player with this item is married to every other player with it
that's hilarious. accepted
#personally i just mentally lump in every npc the scoundrel WOULD marry that isnt properly marriageable#the blind pianist is part of the procession. in my heart.#ask#fallen london#tbh the scoundrel has a lot of attachment and... shall we say. commitment issues. dedication issues.#they're probably a very hard to get along with spouse and im not entirely confident half of the procession arent like#random interactions they had one night and then drunk way too much absinthe and suddenly woke up married to them.#as you do.#but also there maybe is a speck of the capacity for love SOMEWHERE in their little heart. MAYBE. if you squint#rrrrrrrreeeeaaaallllyyyy hard. and pull out a microscope. and tune it all the way up. and use a second additional microscope.#there just might be a speck in there. it's like the grinch but they just get worse instead#also i think caeru is part of the procession probably solely for tax reasons or something and they're Both petty and squabbling over it
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Triumph’s Tribulation Five Sneak Peak
Ah I usually don’t like posting until a chapter is complete, but I am having a lot of problems offline, in addition to the the third and final segment of the chapter, the check in on Midgard, is giving me no end of difficulties. It was supposed to be a Rufus POV but seeing as his POV keeps derailing the fic and my timeline, I will take whoever I can get to be the narrating voice for Alicia and Co. at this point.
I’ve actually debated posting five as it is, but I am trying to have each chapter have three segments, even if one segment ends up being incrediably small like the Lenneth interlude was in uh was it chapter two...?
Right now I have Loki (With Frei!) and Lezard’s parts done...I am posting the Lezard part at least...it[’s mostly finalized, although I’ll probably tweak some words here and there when I go over it for the umpteenth millionth time...X_X
I’d say this scene is PG 13, though it is Lezard so has some darker edge to it...but still hopefully worksafe...! Side note, the A ending got strongly influenced after rewatching the A ending, and all the events leading up to it. It left me with the strong impression and opinion that Lenneth had some kind of mental, nervous break down when the seal broke. I think I even wrote down a few lines from it...if not to use in this chapter, then maybe a future one! I’m also currently in the midst of rewatching VP 2: Silmeria...so maybe that will find my muse for the Midgard crew in this! XD
Onto the scene excerpt now!!
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The marble of the floor had sealed itself together seamlessly, not so much as a sliver of a crack to betray the chaos that had gone on just moments earlier. That of the anger that had been felt, the world itself a living extension of what had been in its God’s heart. Such has been Lezard’s displeasure that in that moment, Creation itself had acted, moving to protect him and his interests, spiriting the frightened Goddess away to somewhere else safe. Safe from his rage, and safe from his desires, the man who had once been human, having pushed too hard, too fast, too soon.
She wasn’t ready. He knew that, every bit from her fight to her flight had in fact acknowledged it, the fear that was in Lenneth’s heart. It had sent her running, the Goddess scared, not so much of what he might do to her physically as much as the emotional havoc he had been intent on wreaking. The truths that had needed to be confronted, and with it would come all of its pain, such sorrow born of those lies that the woman had told herself. She wouldn’t be spared its sting, not even God himself able to shelter Lenneth from the agony of breaking free of such warped delusions. The comfort it had once given her, was now nothing more than a crutch, one that that divine beauty needed to break free of if that heart of hers was going to stand a chance at any true solace.
It wouldn’t be easy, that fact something Lezard could acknowledge in his more rational moments. His beloved needed a far gentler hand than he had thus far been capable of, that near overpowering lust of his, making him impatient and clumsy whenever she was so near. So consumed with the want of her, his attempt at a controlled veneer had all but shattered when her fear had turned violent, Lenneth’s fist finding its mark against his jaw. It had left him so close to doing something unforgivable, illusions torn and discarded if not for his world acting instead. Protecting him as much as her, Lenneth swallowed up whole into an abyss that had opened up beneath her feet.
Even now she was still there, free falling in an endless darkness, that heart of hers in an absolute turmoil that would only be the start of her unraveling. There was both pain and pleasure in the idea of it, Lenneth this intoxicating brand of everything that Lezard could have ever wanted. Her heart, her soul, that of her mind and her body, her tears, her agony, and that of her happiness, the man wanted it all. He was obsessed with the having of it, of attaining paradise with so perfect a being. It was so close to a reality, that he could almost taste it, his blood stained hands reaching for it, for her, Lezard this newly remade being, the ultimate Lord of it all, Lenneth and the effect she has always had on him, the one thing this God could not control.
Even now he was tempted, sheer folly though it would be to go after her right now. Lenneth was too wild in the moment, too angry and afraid, tormented by a truth he had only merely hinted at, such insinuations holding the strength to make a Goddess reel in an absolute terror. It was a fear not just for herself, for what might be done to her, but that of her world, the paradise that she had created. That perfect utopia that was nothing more than a lie that her wounded soul had retreated into, every insinuation that Lezard could make had the power to tear that universe apart from the root, the very foundations it had been built and brought to life upon.
It was a world of desires, that perfect paradise grounded in a pain so blatant that it had nearly torn the Goddess apart. That heart of hers that had been so ripped to pieces by the sins committed against her, it had left Lenneth reeling in an agony even she herself had not understood, the Goddess so overwhelmed in the moment as to escape into a fantasy. An illusion, the deceits woven there all by her own hand, the ageless woman latching onto a figment, the fragment that had been dangling before her. Seizing upon it, with that earring in her hand, out of all the lives she had slept through, it had been the latest, that of a child, a girl no older than fourteen when she had died, that had helped feed into a delusion. In that moment she had been thinking not as a Goddess, but as a human, a child, torn apart by a loss that had been about more than just one man’s death.
The seal had been broken, a flood gate of emotions overtaking the Goddess. How much agony had it been, to remember them all, every last life that had hosted Lenneth inside them. The highs and the lows, their joys and their pains, hundreds upon hundreds of women, all helping to shape the Valkyrie’s humanity. Her compassionate heart, the depth of her millennia of experience far more than anything those scant fourteen years as Platina could have given. She was just a sliver of what had helped shaped the Goddess, so small and inferior a speck, the child was not who Lenneth was meant to be.
So much more than any one human girl, Lenneth was in fact a being so uniquely her own. A caring Goddess, one whose capacity to feel and sympathize with the mortals a threat that Odin and the other Gods could not abide by. They hadn’t killed her, they had done WORSE, the woman’s free will taken from her, her true sense of being SEALED away.
A safeguard meant to control that which the Gods could not understand, that human compassion that that particular Goddess had been gifted with, the likes of which had been cultivated and learned over the course of a millennia of different hosts. Through them she had loved, and Lenneth had cared, the woman so wholly unique in her ability to FEEL, the Goddess the champion that the mortals had needed. The Gods had feared it, feared Lenneth and the allegiance that such emotions had wrought, Odin needing the Valkyrie to be a good little soldier who fell into line with his own selfish wants. Unable to dominate her as she had truly been, that tyrannous God had tried to eradicate her spirit, that of her true self, through such archaic means, such a brutal manipulation of the self, such that Lenneth had been little more than a doll. A puppet, beautiful and perfect, and so wholly without the feelings that would have interfered with the Heavens’ schemes.
The Gods had seen her as nothing more than a Death Goddess, a chooser of the slain to bolster their own armies with the souls of dead heroes. They had let her pick from the brave as though they were mere flowers, calling into service warriors from all corners of Midgard. Leaving her exposed to the very thing that the Gods themselves had feared, the emotions that were so plentiful in the humans, putting cracks in the shield erected around Lenneth’s heart. Bit by bit, that ancient magic had been worn away, the seal itself eroded with each and every encounter, until it had finally shattered, and with it went Lenneth’s mind, the woman having snapped.
It must have been so, so overwhelming, to have been hit at once with all those feelings, with the many lives she had slept through, their hopes, their desires, all coming to life within Lenneth in startling clarity. Was it any wonder she had lost her true self in the process, spinning from one host to another, again and again, until she had latched onto the most recent, that of the child, those scant years of fourteen the most overwhelming dream of them all given how fresh it had still been.
Even grounded in that child’s psyche, it had proved too much. Lezard himself had born witness to it, to that mental break that the Goddess had had. The tears that had fallen, the screaming that had been done, it hadn’t been just the Goddess, but the child, Platina, made horrified by the one solace of her life, Lucian the only kindness and warmth she had ever known, LOST, killed in turn by his own refusal to let go of his own delusions.
It had all been such a mess, a tragedy the likes of which all else had fallen short. Her puppet strings not just severed, but left tangled across the board, Lenneth had been operating on a grief born madness, forgetting who she really was, to play fantasy for one ignorant human. For some fake facsimile of him, Lucian a shadow, his miraculous return to life nothing more than a figment born of Lenneth’s own desperation and desires. Instead of the warrior she had known, he was something new, a puppet who was nothing more than some idealized version of who she had thought him to be, Lucian just one of the many dolls whose every thought had been painstakingly crafted by Lenneth’s power.
Creation itself had been remade on desire, on such potent delusions and lies, the many souls there not the people they had once been. They were just shadows of those that had died, annihilated in the Ragnarok that Lucian had helped Loki bring about. It hadn’t just ended lives, it had wiped out everything, including that of nearly every living being’s soul from existence, such devastation a permanent end, the cycle of rebirth itself destroyed. Such finality was there to it, that no one, not even God, could fight against, the world and its people entirely eradicated.
It left the world in complete ruins, Lenneth’s land a paradise populated in lies. It was a copy, a mere imitation of what had once been, formulated out of fragmented glimpses, the memories she had gathered, the people there nothing more than a pathetic bunch of puppets. They were just these hollow husks of what she thought them to be, these seemingly ideal versions ultimately falling short, all an attempt that was unfulfilling when it came towards truly easing the pain in the Goddess’ heart. They were all lies that couldn’t make her truly happy, anymore than they could satisfy her needs. Each and every last one of them, Lenneth living in a farce, a waking dream that could crumble apart so easily given the right push. If enough care wasn’t given, the Goddess would crumble again with it, her psyche perhaps lost to yet another kind of fantasy.
Lezard couldn’t lie and claim that he hadn’t considered it. Hadn’t given thought to molding Lenneth into a fantasy that would suit HIM best. But ultimately, he didn’t want the illusion, that of those broken remnants of who the Goddess had once been. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just a sliver, wouldn’t embrace the farce of just one of her sides. He wanted her everything and her all, Lezard made mad with the desire, with that need. It fueled him, his obsession with Lenneth the motivating strength that had led Lezard into doing the impossible again and again. He had died for her, traveled through time for her, even become a God for her, such a warped semblance of love a catalyst that had no limits and no match. Not even Lucian could compete, that young man unable to see past Platina, and past the Valkyrie, to the supreme manifestation of the woman, a Goddess so sublime as to move a heart that had once been so unfeeling.
Her mark left on him, Lenneth had helped shaped Lezard into this mad man, so utterly devoted in the pursuit of her. Worlds had been ruined, people slaughtered, time itself run roughshod all over, yet his hands were no less dirty than any of the other Gods. Than even HERS, Lezard creating his own world, his own perfect paradise to ease the pain that was in HIS heart. That it spilled hurt onto others, was of no concern, Lezard an unfeeling God who had no desire to rule or be worshiped by anyone other than by Lenneth.
Such blasphemies should have been sins enough to weigh even God down, yet Lezard was instead made unburdened by it all, free of the demands the throne of Creation should have made of him. He was free, having discarded duty the way he had discarded bodies, nothing but time on his hand, and power, and harboring a patience that was fast running out.
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#valkyrie profile#lenneth valkyrie#lezard valeth#Triumph's Tribulations#fanfiction#fanfic#wip#sneak peek
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Existentialism in Six Parts
Or: Why The Fuck Are We Here?
A Philosophical Consideration of Life, Death, and The Weird Shit In Between
PART ZERO: WARNING
What follows might be a lot -- consider this a warning for all things -- hopefully duetted with occasional levity and even a positive conclusion in an attempt to brand myself with unyielding charm and biting wit. Even so, keep in mind that I did say “all things.” After all, aren’t there more things in Heaven and Earth, reader, than are dreamt of in our philosophy?
PART ONE: WHAT IS SCARIER THAN DEATH?
I feel like most people are afraid of death. Who wouldn’t be? We are all afraid that one day we will enjoy life so much that we will have something to lose.
For me, that fear is more of a dull thump in my temple.
The sharp pang in the forefront of my mind, the fear I can’t shake, is that one day I will no longer be afraid of death. One day, there will be so much that overshadows the things I have to lose that I won’t be afraid to lose them anymore.
I mean honestly, how is a creature that is able to predict its own inevitable demise even meant to exist? How can anything live an unfettered existence knowing what’s to come?
Or rather, knowing what’s to come and then not knowing what’s after that?
We can’t. We just can’t, so most of the time we keep ourselves from thinking about it in any meaningful capacity on purpose just so that we can stomach our own beating heart.
Most of the time, we build our walls up so high and so thick, plastering brick after brick so that no axe can chip at it because if we don’t, the dam will break and instead of water we’ll have waves of black ooze, existential sludge induced by our own thoughts.
Or maybe that’s just me.
PART TWO: DOES ANYONE DESERVE ANYTHING?
More than the idea of life and death, I struggle with the idea of “fairness,” by which I mean I struggle with the absence of it.
I don’t know why it’s fair that I get to live a comparably good life. I certainly earned some of the good things in my life, but I didn’t earn being born somewhere peaceful and safe, into a white, middle-class household to parents who love and support me.
I didn’t earn being generally physically healthy. In fact, anything about me that is physically unhealthy is a direct descendent of choices I have made for myself.
(See: Caffeine, nicotine, and not eating for years.)
The fact that I have the time, the resources, and the capabilities to reflect on any existential nonsense means that I practically have it made. So what did I do to deserve it?
And even though I have it, does it save me from suffering?
Nothing changes the fact that even a comparatively good life, a life misted by or drowned in privilege, necessitates the acceptance that the people we love will eventually die.
No matter how wonderful the life given to us, we will one day have to watch ourselves and everyone around us decay; one day our bodies and, maybe more importantly, our minds will scatter into a million pieces and be picked up by a world that doesn’t slow down just because we can no longer keep up with it. And even then, that is only if we’re lucky enough to live long enough to watch it happen. If we aren’t hit by a bus or dropped by an aneurism.
But, (spoiler alert!) no matter how or when it happens, we will one day lose everything.
In the meantime, our only option is to hang out and ask ourselves why.
How is that fair? Why does anyone deserve that?
PART THREE: WHY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYTHING IF IT ALL GOES AWAY?
I did, at one point, consider myself a nihilist. Mostly because I was thirteen, filled with Redbull and Tumblr and puberty-granted angst and I thought it would make the cool, moody kids like me.
But now, in the I-Am-An-Adult-But-I-Still-Feel-Like-I-Know-As-Little-As-I-Did-Then stage of my life, I really think I was overcompensating. I did, at one point, consider myself a nihilist because I also did, and still do, think that most things matter. A lot. I think most things are actually really profound and special, but that’s exactly what scared me.
It’s scary to assert, in the face of a meaningless void where we are but one speck of dust in an infinitely expanding cosmos, that something might mean something to you.
It’s scary to consider the fact that one day you might never get to look at those somethings again. It’s scary to look at the trees, or the sunset, or the stars, or the love of your life, and know that you won’t have them forever even though you love them so deeply.
It’s scary, fucking terrifying in fact, to understand that eventually there will be no more anything: No more climbing into bed with clean sheets, diving into the sea, tasting the first sip of coffee in the morning, feeling wine-induced euphoria, touching or being touched, running fast, biting hard, screaming loud, laughing louder. The fear is debilitating.
How can the joy of having not be overshadowed by the fear of not having?
How can the joy of existing not be overshadowed by the burden of understanding not existing, the burden of having a weird body hanging off of you, the burden of too many emails about too many things that might not actually matter in the end?
How can we possibly keep ourselves from spiralling into a pleasure-seeking, never-finding, Dorian-Grayian husk of hedonism? Realistically, we can’t. That’s scary, too.
But it’s more complicated than that, isn’t it? There’s more left to account for.
PART FOUR: WHAT OF THIS SHITTY WORLD?
What of the melancholy, the boredom, the sadness, the blinding rage, the jealousy?
What of the, and I mean this very seriously, real evil? What of the suffering?
What of the bare hopelessness, the hunger, the sickness, the torture, the war, the entire world on fire? There are entire nations built on graveyards or things worse than graveyards. There are entire nations turning into graveyards or things worse than graveyards.
What of the people who can be monsters, who are monsters right now as we speak, who have been monsters since the dawn of man, and who will be monsters until we are all dust?
What of the universe’s indifference to those monsters?
Worse yet, what of our indifference to them?
What the fuck do we do with that?
I mean, we can write about them, read about them, recite the stories about them low and sober in the candlelight or loud from a podium, but sometimes I feel like if stopping it truly mattered to any of us, we would drop everything and do something. Anything.
But most of us don’t want to do that.
Is it selfish that most of us like our lives -- even when they are scary or confusing or plagued by fears -- and don’t want to give them up?
Is it selfish to not give them up, whether physically giving up our corporeal machinery that keeps us breathing or metaphorically giving up our time and our money that we use to try and create a more meaningful existence for ourselves?
I don’t think admitting that makes us bad people, but it probably doesn’t make us good people, either. I really think it just makes us people.
Sometimes we don’t need extra money, so we give it to someone who does. We vote. We give blood. We go out of our way to compliment people or be nice to the barista at our favorite coffee shop. We write shit like this and hope that it helps someone.
We contribute in the ways we know how, in the ways we can. We try to write new verses for poems, stitch new patches into the felt of the universe hoping to make it a little bit more beautiful, a little bit more complete. But is that ever really enough?
PART FIVE: IS THAT EVER REALLY ENOUGH?
I really think that might be. I try not to be in the business of unnecessarily miserable conclusions. Once you find yourself in the midst of them, they start to color everything with their shade of pale nothingness and they tend to bring about the idea that the more grim something sounds, the more truthful it is. Screw that.
There are terrible things in the world, so many that if you could see them all at once they would break your heart. But, fuck, we’re the only things that we know of who can hope.
Find. Create. Catalyze meaning where there might not be any.
By being overly cynical about the state of the universe, we do a disservice to the infinitesimal chance that there is so much beauty in the world that it will take your breath away.
If we, as people, create meaning and if truth is subjective, we are left with two options that are completely artificial: Either the world is beautiful and wonderful simply because it can be, or the world is a deep, hellish cesspool of suffering simply because it can be. If that’s the case, doesn’t it make more sense to hone in on the man-made truth that is quiet and, in some rare moments, truly joyful?
Maybe, just maybe, you can’t have one without the other. Maybe it isn’t a matter of choosing the “right one,” or pinning down a specific point on a map, or finding the sweet spot in the middle of the spectrum. Maybe it isn’t a spectrum at all. Maybe everything is beautiful and everything sucks, everything is order and chaos, everything is life and death.
Maybe Heaven is a prison. Does that make it any less Heaven or any less prison?
The only thing we know is this: Everything is notable and important because we make it so; because we experience it, we articulate it, and we share it; because we write showy, meandering pieces about it to publish for other students who know just as little as we do about all of the maybes.
We know intimately what it means to live, what it means to suffer, and what it means to die.
But in the midst of that cosmic sleight, isn’t there something so special about arranging the resulting turmoil for our own minds? Isn’t it so beautiful that we are even alive to think about how shitty it is to be alive?
What a gift it is to be fully aware of all this and still choose to, in our own little pockets of time and space, seek out happiness for ourselves and those around us.
PART SIX: CAN THERE REALLY BE A CONCLUSION?
While preparing a, hopefully meaningful, final monologue, I didn’t know quite what to say. There is both so much and so little to focus on. But what I keep coming back to is one idea:
Everything is going to be fine; it will not be perfect and it will be painful, but it will be fine.
“Fine” might be less of an absence of feeling than a resolution of them or it might be the most comforting lie we can tell ourselves, but it might also be the most beautiful truth we can muster. The closest thing to the middle of the spectrum that is not a spectrum.
“Fine” might just be everything and then some.
There will always be death and we will always be aware that it is looming over us like a Jenga tower about to topple. Nothing will ever be fair, but in spite of that,
everything will be fine.
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The 100 Season 6 Speculations
Okay, so first of all I want to say I’m loving season 6 so far. Give me all of the delinquent interactions. I’m also obsessed with the Bellarke crumbs they are ALREADY GIVING US and how their repressed feelings for each other were shown (although not directly) in 6x02. A while ago I saw on Twitter that a reviewer compared The 100′s 6x02 episode to Motel California in Teen Wolf and now I totally see it. The way the plant toxin affects the delinquents parallels the werewolves being affected by the wolf’s bane... and the focus on the main group of delinquents (specifically Clarke, Bellamy, and Murphy) parallels the focus on the original core 4 in TW (Scott, Stiles, Allison, Lydia). I absolutely LOVED the core 4 dynamic in TW and I’m already loving this trio dynamic between Clarke, Bellamy, and Murphy. Give me more episodes like this! (and maybe add Raven after her and Clarke make up).
That said, I watched the first two episodes when they were leaked, so I’ve been DYING for the next episode 6x03. (Note: I’ve also been streaming them again since they’ve officially aired, so I’ve watched each one like 4 times). Since new content is finally coming next week, I wanted to get out some of my random speculations for what’s coming up later this season even though we literally know so little about this new planet, these new people, the creepy children, etc.. Of course, being curious (like a psychopath), I went through all of the season 6 episodes on IMDb to see what (if anything) it could tell me. I’m sure someone else has probably already done this, but I found some interesting things I needed to put out there...
6x03
We already have a name “The Children of Gabriel” as well as a description (Clarke tries to win over the leaders of Sanctum in order to let her people stay. Meanwhile, Bellamy, Octavia, and Echo discover a new threat while on a mission to retrieve the transport ship.), so we have somewhat of a gist of what is coming next week. I don’t think they will fully go into the backstory of these “children of Gabriel” but we obviously know the geneticist from the flashback was named Gabriel and the actor, Ian Pala, is only listed for 2 episodes on his personal page and one of those is Sanctum (uncredited). So I’d assume this means we won’t get another flashback of him specifically or the origins of his “children”. But I do think when Clarke meets Russell and the other people somehow this backstory/history (at least a shortened version) will be explained. We know that the episode titles are all explicitly mentioned or referred to in the episodes themselves somewhere, so that’s my reasoning there.
However, I noticed one other small thing in the cast list that stuck out as strange/interesting. Sarah-Jane Redmond’s character (aka the Sanctum hostage that tried to hijack the mothership) is named Taylee in 6x02 but Tilly in 6x03. At first I thought it could have been some kind of error (idk) but it’s listed the same way on her personal IMDb actor page. Is she playing twins?? Is there validity to this clone theory I saw floating around and read about in the Hypable review?? Either way, I’m definitely interested in whatever that’s about.
Also, I’m excited to meet JR Bourne’s character this episode! We obviously know he is Russell Lightbourne but after all my research (lol I’m taking this WAY more serious than I ever took school), I’m wondering if he’s not just a descendant of the Lightbourne’s but is actually a clone or somehow has the same consciousness from Mr. Lightbourne (Josephine’s dad) in 6x02 (again saw this in the Hypable article around a similar flame storyline theory since Becca created Eligius tech as well). It’s worth noting that we don’t actually know the character’s real name and Sean Maguire is just credited as Mr. Lightbourne -- no first name. Hmmmmm
6x04
Again we have a name “The Face Behind the Glass” and a short description (Clarke embraces the traditions of Sanctum and tries to make amends for her past actions.), but not much else... (or do we??) This episode is probably where we will see Clarke dancing in the room painting and maybe even the lanterns floating in the sky (ie. Sanctum tradition?) -- I’m thinking several “happy” moments with her. I also have a theory -- going out on a limb here -- that it is where we could see the whole “flashback” scene of Clarke in Mount Weather from the trailer. It’s probably not an actual flashback but some kind of hallucination or psychosis thing again, (or maybe even a dream?) but maybe that is where the title comes from -- she’s literally looking at herself from behind the broken glass in MW’s contamination rooms. OR we’re not quite there yet and it’s referring to the stained glass-looking red window/door thing that Emori was trying to open before going crazy in 6x01.
The kicker for me in this episode’s listing was Jordan Bolger’s credit as Shaw, who we all saw die in 6x01. In what capacity is he coming back? Maybe it’s Raven’s hallucination or even a dream? I could see them showing us her full reaction once she knows what really happened to him, but I’m not sure how or in what way he would come back at some point in the episode (I say “come back” because the actor will actually appear). It will be super interesting how the sci-fi elements work on this new planet. We’ve already seen the eclipse-induced psychosis but what other strange things will occur or happen to our characters? If they are all facing their demons (ie. Clarke with Mount Weather and Octavia with Blodreina) I wonder how those scenes will be played out.
6x05
Again Jordan Bolger is credited... is Miles Ezekiel Shaw back again??? What is going on?
6x06 - 6x07
I didn’t really notice anything super strange in episode 6, but GUESS WHO IS CREDITED FOR EPISODE 7: none other than Chris Browning as Jake fucking Griffin. Maybe this is another flashback or memory or hallucination -- assuming by Clarke.
Note: Madi is not credited to appear in 6x06 or 6x08 so I’m thinking her “kidnapping” or whatever happens with the creepy person who is holding her captive in the woods happens in 6x07. Or maybe it’s even earlier in 6x05?
6x08
In episode 8, the cast list introduces 2 notable new characters: Josephine VII and Hope. Okay, so with Josephine VII it could be some descendant of the original Josephine Lightbourne in the 6x02 flashback, but it could ALSO be another hint at this clone and/or flame consciousness theory. But Hope... where have we heard that name before? Oh yeah, Diyoza’s unborn child. But Diyoza hasn’t even had her baby yet and in the promo trailers it looked like she was shot (and possibly killed?). Also, this actress who plays Hope is like 6 years old, not a newborn baby. It’s still weird to me though because what are the chances there is another character -- another child, no less -- with that same name Diyoza mentioned she was planning to give her baby. Just seems a little too coincidental to me.
6x09
Okay, I’m going out on a limb here, but THIS MIGHT BE THE ICONIC RAVE SCENE FROM THE TRAILER. Stay with me... I was originally thinking this would happen earlier in the series when I saw this in the trailer, probably like everyone else, but in the IMDb cast list there are 5 “dancers” credited. I mean it is more logical for a rave scene to happen early in the season (because usually all the good things or happy stuff comes in the first half of the season and NEVER this late), but what else would “dancers” be credited for??? The 100 doesn’t do dance numbers LOL. Anyway this idea has me shook because if it is this late in the season, there is a better chance that Bellamy and Echo have ended things by this point and that super short blurry speck in the bottom right corner of the rave dance scene could be Bellamy (you know what I’m talking about). Will they actually make my LIFE and have Bellamy and Clarke dancing at that rave together? Seems way too good to be true, but I had to throw the possibility out there. I mean who knows, my Bellarke-owned ass can always hope for the best.
After the slim possibility of that amazing possibility, here’s a scary thought to consider (sounds kind of like the show itself), this is the last episode of the season that credits Lola Flanery as Madi... WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO HER. Does whatever experiment being done on her in the promo trailer kill her? Pls don’t hurt Clarke’s smol child.
6x10
So here is where I started low key freaking out because the cast list dwindles DRAMATICALLY for credits this episode. We only have Eliza as Clarke, Shannon as Jordan, and Luisa as Emori out of ALL of the main characters we know and love. Something major has to happen for everyone else to suddenly become absent from this episode. And I’m a little scared to know what that is.
6x11
Okay thank god, the main characters are all back on the credits list for this episode. ALSO there is a new actor credited as young Echo. OMG an Echo flashback?! Will we finally understand who she was and why she is the way she is? Will I even care to get invested in her this late in the game?
Also, IMDb lists that this is the episode Bob Morley directs!
6x12 - 6x13
Our other mains are gone AGAIN from the cast list. It’s back to only listing Clarke and Jordan among the characters we already know. WTF is going on. I need answers NOW. To reiterate, I’m saying that IMDb doesn’t list Abby, Bellamy, Octavia, Raven, Murphy, Echo, Kane, Madi, Miller, or Jackson in episode 10, 12, or 13 (+ Emori in 12 or 13).
I’m honest to god just hoping that IMDb isn’t fully updated with the entire cast list in these last episodes yet -- is that a thing? pls tell me it is -- because if we don’t have a finale that includes Murphy, Raven, or most of all, BELLAMY... I swear to God I will riot. Of course, I’m hoping no one dies (obvi), but now that we know there is a season 7, could J Roth be trying to kill us with some dramatic cliffhanger where Clarke and Jordan are separated from the rest of the group? (PSA: STOP SEPARATING CLARKE FROM EVERYONE). But if so, why would this absence of all of those other characters be TWO WHOLE EPISODES? And during the two part finale of all things. UGHHH my mind is spiraling, someone pls calm me down.
On the plus side, 6x12 lists Antonio Negret as the director for the episode and we all know he brought us the brilliant (yet angsty AF) episode 5x08 last season where Bellamy poisoned Octavia to save Clarke. But if Bellamy isn’t even in this episode WHY SHOULD I EVEN BOTHER CARING.
What’s left that I missed? Probably a lot LOL. I tried going back to watch what I might have missed from the extended trailer but I couldn’t find the video ANYWHERE. It’s like disappeared from YouTube (says it is “unavailable”). What is that about?
Anyways, the scene with everyone together in the house (standing at the bar, shot looking at us) has to be in one of the episodes where all main cast members are credited -- I don’t think it will be the next one so maybe 6x04 or 6x05? Same thought for the Madi/Clarke reunion, I feel like that is in the same episode. I also have no idea when in the season Bellamy is going to strangle Russell with Clarke and Murphy in the room (again my favorite new trio!). And that being said I’m confused on JR Bourne because he was all hyped up as a new character this season but he’s only credited in the next episode 6x03. Does the strangling take place next week? It can’t right? Because Bellamy is off with Echo and Octavia on the other mission and Clarke is the only one in the castle. Also if 6x04 is Clarke trying to embrace the traditions of Sanctum and make amends, there is no way she could do that the episode after Russell (the leader of Sanctum) is killed.
Sorry for the crazy rambling and this long AF post, but I have so much on my mind after this speculation deep dive. I need to just go to bed.
#The 100#the 100 season 6#the 100 speculation#bellarke#bellamy blake#clarke griffin#john murphy#sanctum#the 100 6x03#the 100 6x04#parallels#teen wolf#teen wolf 3x06#motel california#wtf did i get myself into#my mind is going crazy#i need the rest of the season now
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MONICA YOU LOVED MANIC TOO??!?!? I'm overjoyed because I've only spoken to one (1) other person who really loved it & I feel so relieved, somehow, that you love it since you're the BEST OF US and what YOU love always gets right to the heart of a thing or a story. ANYWAY. Finally // and I Hate Everybody are my absolute favorites, and don't you think this album is like Ashley's version of Lover??? it's her most honest, and maybe lowest but also sweetest and steadiest album. I'M IN LOVE
YES YES YES YES YES I AM SOOO EXCITED YOU LOVE IT WILL YOU BE MY MANIC BUDDY *SINGS IT’S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND WHO LOVES HALSEY*
also thank you sincerely and seriously so much for the glowing shoutout
#WONDER WOMAN SPEAKS MY HEART AND ALSO THIS IS SURPRISINGLY (?) RELEVANT TO THE ONCOMING STORM OF AN ESSAY
before I go any further I want to inform you I am drinking hot chocolate and Bailey’s out of my Batman/Catwoman mug and I still have Christmas lights up. This is not relevant to the following essay but I just thought you should know
I should start the essay shouldn’t I
First of all, I LOVE what you say about this being Ashley’s version of Lover. Both are a...finding of self, more or less complete. This isn’t to say that Taylor’s journey is over—she still has a lot of life and song left to fight through and to enjoy—but by the last words of “Daylight,” it seems to me that through all her struggles, she has finally discovered how to be gentle with herself and how to light her world.
I want to be defined by the things I love,
Not the things I hate
Not the things I am afraid of, I’m afraid of,
The things that haunt me in the middle of the
night, I
I just think that you are what you love.
In Lover, through Lover, by Lover, Taylor is whole again in her soul, and being thus whole and free, her future is quietly hopeful—even in the reality of the sorrowful “Soon You’ll Get Better” (which I still cannot listen to because it wounds my heart). I cannot imagine what she will do next, for she has the most expansive possibilities ahead of her.
Going back to Ashley, or Halsey, well, I can say nothing so clear about Manic other than that it aches. It aches because the whole thing is a confession. It is a spilling out of herself, all her hurts and frustrations and failures and most importantly the confusion of it all that lasts till this day and may last many more. Somehow, somewhere, in all this mess, I feel that by the end of the album, Ashley has found a grain of peace. She is still searching, still longing for things she maybe doesn’t even understand, but she understands herself, and, I hope, understands in a small way that it is okay to be in a state of longing and aching and messing up and trying again.
I’m sleepy so I’m not sure I am being coherent or cohesive, forgive me. I’m just going to say a few things about my favorite songs!
“Ashley.” So this wasn’t the first song I listened to, because of the singles released earlier. But how powerful is it that Halsey opens up with her name? There is nothing I like better than an album that tells a story (surprise!) and the instant I saw the track listing, I was shook.
Seems like now it's impossible to work this outI'm so committed to an old ghost townIs it really that strange if I always wanna change?And if only the time and space between us wasn't lonelyI'd disintegrate into a thousand piecesI think I'm making a mistakeBut if I decide to break, who will fill the empty space?
This verse—I don’t know if it is just where I am in my own life, but really, who hasn’t felt this strange rending of desires in some capacity. Cling to the past? Leap toward the unknown? I want to live near my parents forever, and see my mom every Sunday like I have for years now. I want to live in a foreign country, or even out near my old college, or heck even live in a city for year or six months, just because it would be an Experience. (Couldn’t live there indefinitely, not this girl who loves endless trees and hills and warm summer night country roads and rustling corn.)
How do we know what to do? How do we decide? What if we get left alone, with no one to comfort and support us? What if we cannot handle the consequences of our choices?
Apart from my beating heartIt's a muscle but it's still not strong enoughTo carry the weight of the choices I've madeI told you I'd ride this outIt's getting harder every day somehowI'm bursting out of myself
LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT IT! I DARE YOU TO SAY THIS IS NOT A UNIVERSAL EMOTION. THIS IS WHAT THE ALBUM WILL BE ABOUT SO IF YOU CANNOT OPEN YOUR HEART AND BE PREPARED TO FEEL EMPATHY AND COMPASSION FOR THE YOUNG WOMAN WHO IS ABOUT TO SPILL HER GUTS TO YOU THEN GET OUT OF MY HOUSE
Ahem, I’m sorry, please stay, I don’t actually want you to go. Just sit down and I’ll give you your own hot chocolate. But listen. Ashley is, before anything, a human being. Therefore, she is going to mess up, just the same as any of us, maybe more, maybe less, but that is never going to take away a speck of her intrinsic worth, or the way that God loves her. Her struggles will not obliterate her humanity, but if I ignore her sorrows, her need for something more, her brilliance and strength and longing to love, then I would nigh obliterate my own.
Also, can I just say she has gone through some REALLY hard things in her life, things I couldn’t imagine, and for her to be where she is now—I just want the best for her. Do I agree with everything she does or believes? No. Is my life at all similar to hers? Not really. But I still feel a kinship with her, and it bleeds through in her music.
This is getting away from me isn’t it. I’m just trying to say that Manic struck a chord in my heart that has been reverberating ever since I first perceived it.
Oh gosh it is 12:30, I have to be up at 6. I’m going to fly through a few other songs and then you can message me about the rest or something 😊
“Clementine” has such color, doesn’t it? Also the line about her wondering what it’s like to be the blood in her veins—I love it!
“Graveyard” with the thing you love the most being the detriment—not going to lie, this is a story song for me, it fits into the Gold Rush Silmarillion AU I am co-authoring. Feanor and his own pride, Maedhros and half the people he loves, Fingon and Maedhros—the list could go on.
“You should be sad” and “More” gutted me because I had only just learned she has endometriosis, and has experienced a miscarriage before.
“Forever...(is a long time)”:
It's a nice surprise knowing six feet highWould reach and grab the moon if I should ask
Or just imply that I want you to be more lightSo I could look inside his eyesAnd get the colors just right
And
What am I thinking? What does this mean?How could somebody ever love me?
Self-doubt and questioning one’s ability to be loved ☹
“Without Me” gets stuck in my head and I LOVE IT I SING IT.
Found you when your heart was brokeI filled your cup until it overflowedTook it so far to keep you close (Keep you close)I was afraid to leave you on your own
Is there anything more painful than giving all of yourself to someone, loving them so much that you do anything to help them heal—and then all they do is hurt you.
“Finally// beautiful stranger” I’m ashamed to say the first time I listened to it I wasn’t paying attention and so I was like eh it’s fine. THEN I LISTENED TO IT AGAIN. WHY IS THIS SONG HALSEY’S “ENCHANTED” (I can probably explain this, but just after I’ve had sleep)
“killing boys” there are a lot of things I could say about this song but the main thing I want to say is if there was a song that is ME regarding the sound of it only, it is this one. When she sings “you don’t need me anymore” and “I don’t need you anymore” OOH IT GETS ME IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL
Also
Told me pick my battles and be picking 'em wiseBut I wanna pick 'em all and I don't want to decideNo more, no more, anymore
THIS IS THAT TUMBLR THING “MY MOM LIKES TO TELL ME ‘YOU HAVE TO PICK YOUR BATTLES’ WELL I’M FULL OF RAGE AND I’M PICKING ALL OF THEM”
ALSO ALSO GETTING INTO THE LYRICS THIS IS HER MOVING ON, THIS IS HER DECISIVELY SAYING NO THIS NOT RIGHT THIS IS HARMFUL TO ME I AM DONE. AND FOR SOMEONE WHO HAS EXPRESSED UNCERTAINTY AND DIFFICULTY MAKING DECISIONS, IT SO GOOD TO SEE HER MAKE A HEALTHY CHOICE FOR HERSELF
“Suga’s Interlude:” LOOK YOU LOVE BTS TOO SO I’M SURE YOU KNOW THE STORY OF HOW IT CAME TO BE AND YOU KNOW ALL ABOUT BTS AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH HALSEY BUT FOR THE SAKE OF THE READERS LET ME SUM UP
Halsey did a collaboration with BTS called “Boy with Luv” and it shook the charts and is wonderful and I love it. Not only did they create that song though, but she flew out to South Korea and learned the dance choreography so that she could sing and dance in the song’s music video. This was the beginning of a beautiful, cross-language, cross-cultural friendship that has involved friendship bracelets, churros, a personalized microphone, and mutual teasing.
Anyway, Halsey had been really impressed with BTS member Suga, saying “Yoongi is really introspective and has this really intelligent perspective on where we are and what we are doing in our unique lifestyles.” She also was moved by the hard work and sacrifices he (and his fellow band members) have made. Anyway, she asked Suga to write and sing a song with her. He was initially surprised, saying that he can’t rap in English. Halsey, gem that she is, was like bro, pls rap in Korean, that would be awesome. Pardon me for copying half the lyrics for this song but to me it is pivotal in Manic as a whole:
I’ve been trying all my lifeTo separate the timeIn between the having it allAnd giving it up, yeah...
Here is the conflict and strife that Halsey has dealt with all her life—there is fear of loss there, and also fear of what one has. The power it has over you. The way things might go wrong.
I believe your faith, efforts, beliefs, and greed,are not hideous...Although the dawn right before the sun rises is the darkest,Never forget that the stars that you wish for,can only rise within the dark...
Suga reminding himself, Halsey, and us to cling to hope, ragged and worn, even in the most difficult of times. Also—in the face of our insecurities and self-recrimination for the goals we set—he tell us that our deepest parts are valid
If I run endlessly towards the end of the tunnel,what will there beIt’s true, it’s honestly differentfrom the future that I had hoped forBut it doesn’t matter, now it’s a matter of living/survivingIt doesn’t matter what happenedYeah yeah it might bedifferent from the things that you expectedYour living and your loving might changeThat’s true That’s true That’s trueYeah so are you gonna moveWe’re still too youthful and young to hesitateLet’s face it (our lives)...
This, this verse is so important. Look back at the song “Ashley”, particularly the lines I already quoted. Indecision because the fear of what might be, of what failure could do, wrecking her worse than ever, with no one to help her. Indecision because of a nostalgia that might be bitter or softly sad, what was past was at least known. It was good perhaps, it was awful more likely. But it was gotten through. There is no guarantee that Halsey will be able to get through whatever the future holds. But Suga comes in here, having faced struggles similar at their core, and he embodies the Nike slogan. Just DO IT. Don’t hold yourself back. Don’t let yourself drown, stuck in sinking mud. Embrace the unknown. If you let fear hold you back, you are as good as dead. There will be no growth, no hope battling through the dark for something better. You have to MOVE! And maybe you were right, things will never be the same, or the way you want it to be, but MAYBE THE DIFFERENT WILL BE BETTER!!!
Anyway, this section really should have been its own essay, because I’m still not done with it. You may have noticed I have been calling them Halsey and Suga, and the song is indeed called “Suga’s Interlude” but this song is so deep and personal to them both, it feels wrong to use their stage names. This is Ashley speaking, this is Yoongi speaking. Halsey posted a cute, stick figure drawing as artwork for the song, and the two singers are pictured there—and named as Ashley and Yoongi. This song is not just a collaboration by two talented artists, this is a look into the souls of a woman and a man who’ve shed blood, sweat, and tears to become the people they are. This intimacy fits the whole theme of the album so well, I LITERALLY CANNOT
I am so sorry I will move on now. It is 2:00 am. I need to go to bed. I am not. I need to talk about 929.
Well first let me say that “Still Learning” is also super important to the theme of the album.
I know that I've done some wrongBut I'm trying to make it rightDid the one I love do me wrong?Give me up right now
I know that I love you but I'm still learningTo love myself (to love my, to love my, to love my)I'm still learning to love myself (to love my, to love my, to love my)
She has made confessions and declarations and sung her frustration, and now she is moving forward. The road may be long and hard, but she is moving forward. I had something else to say but I forgot it sorry.
And NOW
929!!!!
This song miiiiight be my favorite on the album, not sure. My heart trembles and I get chills listening to it, because the music and her voice are so gentle and soothing but the lyrics are essentially a list of moments that have been needles and knives to Ashley, all her fears revealed, that she wasn’t enough then and she isn’t enough now, that the girl with the pink hair lied when she said that everyone needed Ashley. It’s a soft confession, a stream of consciousness, so it was written and so I hear it. And in this moment, how can I not love her? How can I not cry for her, for me, for anyone and everyone who struggles with self-worth, with being wanted, with being loved, with loving, with forgiving self and others?Halsey is flawed, and I just want to give her extra love because of that.
But you know what? I think she is going to be ok.
This is where I want to go back and compare Manic to Lover. There is this knowledge of the self, a kind of peace with who one is. I don’t mean that either Taylor or Ashley have reached their pinnacle of self, but they see themselves a little more clearly, and are not suppressing that knowledge.
929 sounds like water gently pouring out of a pitcher into a basin, and water, properly placed, does not drown but gives life. There is hope by the end of this song, hope despite her difficult life, hope despite the fact that she was never even telling the truth about her time of birth. (That story could be a despairing one, the “I’m a fucking liar” could be the miniscule mistake that breaks her after all the rest of her mistakes, but instead...I don’t know she just sounds kind of amused, like even if she is disappointed or upset about it, there is still this “oh well, whatever, can’t believe that happened lol” to her voice and laughter. She knows who she is now, and there is a better woman she might be, but she is not angry with herself for being who she is, and she will move forward, letting go of her ghost towns and all her fears.
Let me end with a quote about 929: “I just start spilling all of my thoughts about myself and my fans and my family, and I admit so many faults and flaws all in one go. It’s forgiving, however, it ends with the acknowledgment that I am learning and growing, minute by minute.”
Ashley, like Taylor, is making a new start. They have both found a sort of daylight, and though there may always be shadows, I really really hope that they will know mostly sun, and spread it around for others.
ALSO I JUST REALIZED I COULD NOW BE SOMEONE’S MANIC PIXIE DREAMGIRL :D
*Disclaimer: I AM SO FREAKING TIRED I AM GOING TO BED, THIS WHOLE THING IS ENTIRELY UNEDITED, ALSO I LEFT SOME SONGS OUT OOPS WELL TWO OF THEM I DON’T CARE FOR AS MUCH BUT I THINK I FORGOT 3 AM WHICH I DO LIKE BUT I AM NOT GOING BACK TO WRITE ABOUT IT NOW. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE RAMBLING MESS AND LACK OF ELOQUENCE BUT HERE WE BE THIS IS WHAT YOU GET HOPE IT MADE YOU SMILE
#halsey#manic#taylor swift#lover#madamescarlette#eden you know I will want to hear your thoughts#which will be so much more well-written then mine lol#asks#<3 <3 <3
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Not-So-Secret Affection
No one asked for these, but I need some fluff!
Jerry
Being so cold, Jerry’s power-up took a while.
All his sensors were active, all systems functional, but his thirium pump was bogged down by a slurry of half-frozen thirium. The circulation was just poor enough to keep his processors from running at full capacity. But he was still awake and still aware enough to discern what was happening around him. There was crackling, warmth, a fire off somewhere to the right, keeping the frost off of his synthetic skin. Muttering voices, all his, but not quite his. Softness under his head rather than hard ground—not that comfort mattered to Androids, but this….
Your face hung over him then, smiling gently down at his unmoving face and half-opened eyes. Your serene expression was suffused in the warm glow of the fire and all the world around you was muddled and blurry—but that’s usually how it was. Maybe that’s how it should always be. After all, you were his angel.
Your hand was petting his hair gently, smoothing out tangles and rubbing his scalp. You looked over and he knows there’s another Jerry there, who’d also been watching this below view with quiet amazement.
“Think he’ll wake up soon?” you ask, a whisper. None of the Jerrys in the room bother to tell you he’s already awake, already watching you lovingly from the confines of his unmoving body. He wants so desperately to reach up and touch you. The other Jerry does it for him, brushing fingers tenderly over your jaw.
“I think so.”
Daniel
Daniel didn’t run his updates often. Even with Cyberlife run by Androids and Android-sympathizers now, he was hesitant to connect directly to the systems that once ruled him with an iron fist. He didn’t like the idea of a master program being in charge of his codes again. Nothing bad ever happened now—he knew that, but….
Well, when he did connect it took a while. There was always a backlog he had to run through, most of it just getting his sensors up to par with newer-model deviants. It took so long sometimes that he’d taken to laying on your living room sofa while it all downloaded, eyes closed, fingers entwined and locked over his thirium pump. You’d asked him once why he did it, told him he looked like a sleeping princess. At the time, you hadn’t been close and he hadn’t graced you with any sort of explanation.
Maybe that was why you thought he really was asleep, or resting, or unable to sense the world around him in some fashion. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to correct you when he felt the blanket drape over his body, and your hands tuck the edges carefully under his shoulders, knees, and feet. Nor could he when the pillow under his head shifted a bit as your fingers pinched and fluffed it.
And especially not when your lips graces his hairline, for just a wonderful fraction of a second, a soft tune hummed in your throat:
So this is love….
Connor
Connor didn’t have a need to close his eyes much. Even blinking was a simple code construction, a behavior meant to make humans more comfortable around him. After deviating, however, he found himself subconsciously seeking out more learned behaviors, more human behaviors, to incorporate into the body language he was slowly allowing take its own shape.
Sleeping was not among those habits, but he did sometimes like to close his eyes, to cut off one sensory device and let the others rule his experience. With practice, he was beginning to understand why humans enjoyed doing it. Like now, sat on the floor in front of the window with Sumo half on his legs, basking in the warm, filtered rays of the Saturday sunrise.
He hears your bedroom door open, and your bare feet pad across the hardwood, but doesn’t open his eyes yet. Your greeting whispers to Sumo skim over him, warmer than the sunlight, and next he feels your fingers gently loosening his tie, smoothing down the front of his shirt. Then you sit on the floor next to him and effortlessly curl yourself against his side.
Connor finally opens his eyes to reveal the two of your bodies huddled in a golden bath of light while illuminated specks of dust float in the air like snow.
“Good morning,” he says with a smile. When you kiss him, your lips are warm.
Chloe
These were her favorite days.
Before she deviated, Chloe was made to be a pretty face, someone to be seen and not always heard, someone to assign a table or read a script, and then be silent. And she was adventurous, a little restless, because now she didn’t have to stand in one place all day, motionless.
But this was different. It was different when she was in front of you, between your legs, reclined where she could feel your heartbeat right behind her thirium pump. It was different when it was just the two of you alone in a dark room, with the tv running the latest series she decided she wanted to binge—and you always let her choose, even if you didn’t like the show.
This was the stillness she liked.
And the best moments came when you thought she was zoned out. If she was quiet and still for long enough, you’d embrace her in a way that seemed…more. Not just a loose drape of the arm, but a grounding squeeze around her shoulders, rocking back and forth, breathing her in, and kissing her LED. It was a strange thing if she thought about it, but she tried not to. The most basic concept of it, that you suddenly wanted to saturate all your senses with the entirely of her honest being, was too sweet. That was her favorite.
You were her favorite.
#Detroit Become human#dbh connor#dbh chloe#dbh jerry#dbh daniel#dbh x reader#fluff#the jerry one is my fav i think#it started this whole idea#crownwrites#dbh fanfiction
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Apartment 5108 // 16
Apartment 5108 — ft. Oh Sehun
// Contemporary Romance
// Adult Fiction
// Sexual & Explicit Language — in later chapters
A/N: It’s long (19,000ish words) and I’m sorry. This chapter is more of closing loose ends but nevertheless---please read with low expectations.
Chapters
// 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15
16
I remember staring back at Sehun that night.
I remember his imploring request to believe in him one last time. I remember his each and every sentiment sinking deep into the well of my heart and I remember how all of my words were lost beyond grasp while I listened to his final plea.
‘Believe in me.
Believe in me one last time, Ahri.’
It wasn’t hearing the four letters to my name muting my lips or hushing my thoughts. It was his determination in expressing how he was trying to do better---to be better than the man he once was.
Sehun finally showed me progress. He displayed his will to become someone far different than the man I lived with months ago and he was a person untethered to his past just as I have moved forward from mine.
It’s all I ever wanted from him.
It’s all I ever wanted to see from him.
For countless moments, I tied myself to the quiet night. I was unable to summon any sensible reply in head or heart. I remained without speech and could only watch as Sehun mirrored my voiceless actions. My stillness became his own while he patiently waited for my response.
And all I could give him, all I could answer with was a nod void of any sound or noise. Every small movement I made was filled with a myriad of emotions traversing through my skin and bones. They were heavy feelings I inwardly felt but couldn’t translate nor properly convey into letters or sentences. It was a mixture of uncertainty, worry, but also wonder and curiosity in how he’s going to show me precisely what I always longed for in this lifetime---
Love.
“Again,” my best friend demands. She’s full of breathless anticipation as the unfaltering amazement spills from her voice. “Tell it again from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
“Soi---
“Please?”
“This is the sixteenth time I’ve told this story.”
“And it gets better with each time, Ahri. You know I love a good romance.”
A weighty sigh rolls off my tongue as I dig my face into a pillow, suffocating my groans from reaching the surface. As much as I enjoy love stories, reciting my own intimate tribulations repeatedly from weeks ago doesn’t stop the embarrassment from making a home on my rosy cheeks.
But I’m awestruck with her reaction to Sehun as of late. For a while, she refused to pronounce his name, finding the sound of it leaving a bitter taste at the back of her throat. It’s a black and white disparity now as she revels in my narrative, flopping her slim extremities across the expanse of my bed. The thought summons a light over my face because she, along with my other two friends, see his improvement.
“And I must remind you, Sehun and I are not characters in one of your romance novels.”
“True. You’re not filthy enough. Him? Maybe. You? Possibly with some practice.” She rises from lying position and pulls me up with her.
I give her an intrigued expression of what she reads in the privacy of her home but make a note to ask about it later, not now because it’s definitely not the right time to hear about fantasies. Instead, my soft laughter fills the bedroom. “Please go get ready. You can give me lessons from your suggestive, fictional dalliances on the way to the party. We have a busy night ahead.”
“We most certainly do.” Her brows wiggle up and down before she jumps out of bed like a child racing towards their favorite treat.
I internally cringe, hoping she doesn’t trip over the mass of decorations I’m temporarily housing for Seunghyun and Lia’s wedding. Calligraphy signage, linen table cloths and napkins, picture frames, and even their wedding favors---a copious amount of reserve Merlots bottled in the year they met are scattered throughout my apartment. Everything was shipped to me because their living spaces no longer have the capacity to accommodate even an additional speck of dust. But she manages to avoid disaster and disappears into my closet.
There’s an extra bounce in her steps as she remembers why she’s spending this weekend before their wedding at my apartment in the first place.
Myungsoo invited Chanyeol, Soi, and I to KALON’s magazine release party located at an industrial warehouse a few minutes from where I live. He submitted our photoshoot to the lifestyle publication and found out they’re including the feature in their Autumn/Winter print edition. None of us have seen any of the photos and I assume it’s why Soi is particularly excited to dress up so she can witness her vision in matte paper form.
Although, I’m not sure what she expects to find inside my closet because my less than abundant amount of party clothes equate to slim selections.
“Ahri.”
“Hrm?” I walk to her as she calls out my name but all sense dissolves once my sights settle upon the ghastly mess she created. It takes me back to our room at Seunghyun and Lia’s getaway and I find being neat truly isn’t one of Soi’s many prized qualities.
Everything is out of order and I’m baffled she managed all of this within two minutes of being alone in the confined space. My folded clothes ranging from sweaters to pants are thrown askew. Wooden hangers dangle haphazardly off the rack and even my shoes are misplaced from one end of the closet to the other.
“What are you going to wear?” Soi asks, incognizant to how she’s a human tornado.
Holding in a low chuckle, I attempt to search for the outfit I set aside and find it pinned underneath the laundry basket. Myungsoo mentioned it wasn’t a formal event so I chose something simple. A white rayon short sleeve blouse with black jeans. I give them to Soi before sitting down on the hardwood floors and watch her gaze study the two pieces. “Should I wear something else?” I offer in between her many beats of contemplation. “A dress perhaps?”
She shakes her head with a pleasant merriment stretching from ear to ear. “No, these are perfect and very much you.”
“Figured you would say that but if you must, there’s a shopping bag in the back right corner. I bought them to try on at home but haven’t had the chance yet. Maybe you’ll find something in there to wear.”
“Moon Ahri buying dresses at a store? Who would’ve known this would be the you of today.”
Her sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. She tosses my chosen outfit over to me while I scoot towards the door and lean against the frame. “Really?”
“Yes, really. You avoided the mall like it was a contagion.”
“It still is.”
She scoffs before a succinct gasp breaks the soundtrack of her rummaging through the pile of clothes. “This. What about this one?”
My body sways over to see what she picked but rather than finding something new, she somehow managed to choose my mom’s blue dress. The same dress I wore to Sehun’s parent’s Christmas Eve dinner and the very one he wanted me to shove into a shredder.
A bewildered grin emerges as I refuse. “No, definitely not that one.”
“What---Why not?”
“Because it’s my mom’s dress and I said right corner. Not the left, Soi. You were looking through the donation bag.”
Her jaw unhinges, latching in place as if she can’t discern if this is a dream or occurring in real life. “This is your mom’s dress? That dress? The dress she wore while she gave you your one and only gift?” Soi trudges over to where I’m sitting and collapses to her knees in front of me. With the cobalt fabric draped over one arm, she takes in my face and stares directly into my eyes, searching for some kind of answer I doubt she’ll uncover just by ogling at me in this peculiar manner. “And you’re throwing this dress away?”
“Not just the dress,” I mumble in between short breaths because she’s squishing my lips along with my ability to speak properly. “The earrings are somewhere in there too.”
“But you’re throwing them away.”
“I’m donating them. Didn’t have the heart to completely trash them since some good can still come out of it.”
Soi releases her grasp on my cheeks and waits for me to elaborate. She’s wondering why I decided to give them away as opposed to ripping and burning their essence. It’s easier for her to understand if I inflicted the same calamitous treatment on the two items as my parents subjected upon me.
But what I strive for isn’t to act like my parents. It’s to become a person they wholly believed I could never grasp within this world.
“I thought my mother loved me. It was a hope. It was a minute dream I conjured up because I forced myself to believe she cared enough to give me one of her possessions. It was my innocent method in coping and I didn’t want to consider the real reason. I ignored it because it felt better to hope than to ensue life into the fact that---
“That she didn’t.”
I nod as Soi finishes my sentence.
My mom was never seen wearing anything twice. It was unfathomable for her to wear any attire or jewelry more than once so she constantly threw away her belongings. The blue dress and earrings were no exception---as I wasn’t either.
“She believed once an item was no longer new, they lost their value. They were unworthy of her and she implied I was just that to her---that I deserved nothing more than the items she rejects. I was, down to the very core, fitting of only the trash she gave me. I held no merit and couldn’t mentally process her cruel beliefs back then. It was too much to deal with on my own.”
“But it’s different now. You’re different now.”
My gaze lingers on the blue dress. I take it from Soi and hold onto the garment for one last time before placing it flat on the floor. I brush over the textile, feeling the fabric glide against my skin and find there’s no lingering desire of what my mother felt towards me.
“I don’t want her to have a hold on me anymore. I don’t want to continue hoping when the blatant answer was always there. She didn’t love me or care for me but it doesn’t mean I should allow it to imprison me in futile wants and wishes for the rest of my life.”
“That’s why you’re giving them away. You’re freeing yourself from them.”
“Once and for all. The reason why I’m not throwing them away is because my mom would’ve tossed them into the bin without a second glance. I’m not like her. I'm the contrast of who she was and these items can still do good. They can be given to someone who wants or needs them.”
“So someone else can enjoy the dress for what it is---just a dress.”
Finally folding up the garment, I hand it back to Soi and recite her exact thoughts. “Right. It’s just a dress.”
I fail to control the delight spreading inside my chest. It expands through every vein and vessel, trickling all the way up to the winged corners of my eyes and it’s because of the peaceful contentment. The long overdue chapter with my parents is officially closed and I’m finally at a stage in my life where I’m perfectly happy. It’s not forced. It’s not an emotion I’m making myself show the world but it’s originating from within and my smile swells from satisfaction.
“And you’re right in every sense. It goes to prove how you’re a much better person than your mom could ever aspire to be, Ahri. She couldn’t and will never measure up to you.”
“I’d like to think the same too.”
“Really. You are.”
The lightheartedness is short lived as I catch onto Soi’s voice waning to a whisper. She copies my sitting position and her head leans on my shoulder. We descend into a strange silence; it’s a kind I’m not accustomed to especially in her presence.
I’m used to her vibrant personality. She has the skill to view the positive in all she does but there are moments when she’s quiet with her deep breaths outweighing her speech and her timbre unveiling a tinge of sadness. It’s then when I realize even she bears her own qualms without knowing how to explain them. “Soi? What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“Honestly, it’s silly. It really is. I don’t even know why I’m letting it get to me---again.”
With the latter word, I know she’s referring to Yixing. “You helped me through so much. I’d like to think you can confide in me as well.”
She lifts her head with her chest rising and falling to a steady tempo. Her vision roams around my closet as if the action will somehow release her encaged emotions. “You’ve grown, Ahri. You’re incredible and it’s like you said, everyone has the ability to change if they worked hard enough. You did with your parents, your relationships, and with how you live your life. Seeing and listening to what you’ve been through, I can’t help but wonder why couldn’t Yixing?”
The pain stitches itself onto her skin like an invisible tattoo. It’s a scar she tries to cover behind a brave smile but she’s hurting. The anguish is still there and I entwine my fingers within hers to ease the aches.
“We were great together but with every relationship, we’re supposed to grow with each other. Learn off of each other. Build a life with one another but Yixing didn’t want anything to change. It felt stagnant with him. He didn’t want our lives to converge more than it already did because something more meant time and attention away from his dance. There was no middle ground. He couldn’t cooperate and refused to budge on any issue. I was willing to compromise because I understood how important his work meant to him.”
“But in the end, he still couldn’t.”
Her hold on me tightens as she stops the difficult feelings from spilling out into the open. “No, he couldn’t. It was a situation he didn’t want to deal with and dismissed the matter in favor of his own stern beliefs. The way he behaved made me think I was inadequate like I wasn’t important enough for him to try.”
“It doesn’t mean you’re not enough. Don’t permit his lack of ability to see how great you are determine your self-worth.”
“I know. It used to eat me up inside. It used to gnaw at my flesh and bones when I was consumed by the negativity. It’s much less now. I don’t let it get to me as often but a part of me is still regretful over it.”
“Like when your thoughts wander and you think about the what ifs and could’ve beens.”
I know how she feels. I’ve been in her position. I’ve thought about the same dangerous questions and endured the grief she sustained on a daily basis. But she can overcome them. She can push through this obstacle and strive towards something far greater than what Yixing could ever offer.
With a deep breath and a strong exhale, her mood gradually cheers up. She voices a comment seemingly coming from out of nowhere while her sharp diction and honed speech spreads throughout the room. “Exactly, but what prevails is my anger and annoyance over the whole matter.”
It takes me a second to acclimate when her tone suddenly increases in melodic key. My vision on her widens because as fast as her somber demeanor appeared, it just as quickly vanishes. Her mannerisms are defined as dynamic and lively. She was never the type to dwell in pessimistic tides for long.
Her nose scrunches into a tight ball while her gaze fires imaginary daggers straight into my rib cage. I wonder why she’s abruptly giving me this seething expression as if I did a serious wrong to her and wish this isn’t one of the rare occasions where she unleashes her wrath on my poor old soul.
I’m scared to ask but proceed with caution. “You’re annoyed?”
“Absolutely annoyed.”
“At---me?”
“Partly you, but mostly annoyed over your Oh Sehun because even he changed. I thought he would be the very last person on the planet to mature and grow in character, but he did. He made the effort for you. And again, it makes me want to scream up to the high heavens, why couldn’t Yixing? Where’s the justice in all of this?”
She airs out an infuriating sigh and returns to her normal self as she stands and makes small, whiny stomps over to the shopping bag. Wrath averted but amusing, nevertheless, as I watch her petite frame walk away with such vexation.
“You sound bitter.”
“Can you blame me?”
I give her a whimsical grin and shake my head. “No, but may I correct you on two minor details?”
“Go for it.”
“One. He’s not mine.”
“He is.”
“No, he’s not.”
“He is, Ahri. If what he said on the bridge was any indicator---he is, without a sense of doubt, completely and entirely yours.”
“Soi---”
“We can agree to disagree. What’s the second?”
I concede but her sentiments rattle my heart, shaking the tiny strings and lines scattering throughout my body because having someone all to myself is an otherworldly sort of notion. I don’t mull on the matter for more than a minute before moving onto the next number. “Two. I’m not sure you can say he’s fully changed per se.”
“What do you mean?”
My shoulders shrug as my fingers play with the hem of the white shirt sitting on my lap. “Sehun hasn’t said or done anything more beyond the norm since our talk that night.”
“He hasn’t?”
My head turns left and right and she makes a huh noise. It’s not a question or confusion. It’s her method in running through all the possible scenarios and reasonings. I can’t read her expression but she’s perturbed by the issue.
I am worried about the sincerity of Sehun’s words. I wonder if he meant every single promise but I don’t want it to consume my spirit and life. It’s not something I’m waiting for minute by minute or second by second. I choose to carry on without overthinking which is different from how I was prone to doing so in the past.
“You don’t seem very bothered by it, Ahri.”
“I may not seem like it, but I am.”
“You are?”
“I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at all because it does. I’m just not letting my curiosity eat me alive.”
“So you’re not too concerned with his promise---with what he said? To believe in him, to believe in him one last time.”
I bury my face into the palms of my hands because she’s mocking me. She’s making fun of my odd circumstances with her singsong voice trilling through the enclosed space. I’m tempted to lock her in my closet for all of time but instead let out a dubious laugh. “Disregarding the last portion of your dialogue, I don’t know what Sehun’s planning to show me or if he’s planning anything at all. But if he does, then he will. He’ll show me what I want to see but if he doesn’t, then I guess we both move on.”
Her hand sweeps over her lips while her top frame bobs up and down. It appears she’s going along with what I’m telling her but when she does this, I know she has something else to say; it’s something she’s keenly aware of and I’m not.
My fingers move to the crook of my neck, kneading the skin as I recount my statement and debate the validity of my actions. “Is---is that not right? Is that not what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to feel?”
“There’s no right or wrong feeling and it’s okay to behave as you have.”
“But?”
“But there’s another option besides waiting in limbo or moving on.” She hums a melodious tune with a smile stretching from ear to ear. “You could ask or talk to him about it.”
I shut my eyes to a pinch because it wasn’t what I thought she would say. Her more than straightforward approach astonishes me and I joke with her. “Is that what the characters in your books would do if they were in my situation?”
“If I remember correctly, you and Sehun aren’t like the characters in my novels full of secret rendezvous and moonlight trysts. So, no, they wouldn’t do that in your situation. The fictional characters I read about will dance in between miscommunication and unsaid words. They will wait until the very last moment to reveal what they’re feeling when most could be solved if they addressed it right away. But again, that’s why they’re books. They’re entertainment. You and Sehun. You’re not them so if you’re feeling uncertain about how he’s been acting lately, even if it’s just a tiny bit---talk to him. Ask him directly and you’ll find out why.” She emphasizes the final word and my figure cranes at her heightened elocution.
“Why do I have the feeling you already know the reason behind his behavior?”
“Because I do.”
“Care to tell me?”
“No, not really. It’s not my place to reveal such significant matters of the heart,” she sneers and grabs a bunch of clothes, making her way to the bathroom.
I throw a stray sock at her bottom before she disappears behind the safety of closed doors. “Killjoy.”
“I heard that.”
Feathery chuckles swim along the expanse of my chest but all the while, I keep her advice.
I place it securely inside my mind and consider it for the next time I meet the fateful man.
After an hour of Soi trying on dress after dress and wrangling over which one accentuates her petite figure better, we make it to KALON’s magazine release party. With the sky darkening to night and the sun setting beyond the horizon, I feel the late autumn air bring in a chilled wind. The clouds overhead blanket across the rising moon and we meet Chanyeol at the entrance which is already bustling with an eclectic number of people.
Even in casual all black attire, Chanyeol exudes a dapper appearance. Unfortunate for most, the dashing impression only lasts up until he decides to open that witty mouth of his. His love for spewing nonsense doesn’t relent as he greets us. “Well, if it isn’t Soi and my former wife with the sadistic talent of breaking men's hearts.”
“How could I break something which was already broken to begin with?” I retort without hesitation because he’s not the only person who loves to dabble in meaningless banter and harmless quips.
Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide, pluming to round orbs of horror. His hand draws over his chest with nails digging into his shirt as if I punctured him with a sword imbued with poisoned love. “The pain. Must you hurt me so?”
“Always.” I give him a cynical smirk before checking my phone to see where we’re meeting Myungsoo and ignore Chanyeol’s fake cries into Soi’s shoulder. Though, she does very little to appease his sorrows. “Myungsoo’s still driving. Traffic in the city but he should be here in about 5 minutes.”
“That means 5 minutes to get myself a drink,” Soi pipes and saunters off into the building while Chanyeol and I wait outside in the brisk weather. I mentally chastise myself for not wearing a jacket as my arms wrap around one another, rubbing my exposed skin to create a sliver of warmth.
The tall male next to me notices with his sulking tendencies subsiding. Per his usual habits, there’s an enjoyment prancing along the highs and lows of his voice in lieu of his former brooding mood. He takes a step towards me, inching closer and closer while angling his grand frame down to my size. “You know, hugs are a great solution to when you’re feeling cold.”
“I, regretfully, must pass.” I push out my bottom fold into a pout, sending it off into his direction and see what other creative comebacks he’s prepared for our trivial competition of words.
“How about my oversized tee?”
“Are you wearing anything else under that oversized tee?”
Chanyeol ponders on the question before gracing me with his addictive, mischievous grin. It’s contagious and enough for me to believe even I can smile forever if I’m around his buoyant personality. He peers into his shirt, examining his form and I slightly wonder what he’s hiding under there (but not for long because a half naked Chanyeol should never be one of my concerns in life). “Nope. Nothing.”
“Then, I must say no.”
“A hoodie. I have one in the car.”
“Pass again, which reminds me. There’s a collection of your leftover hoodies at my apartment and they’re all waiting to go home to their proper owner.”
“Who says they’re not already with their proper owner?” he retaliates as if what I said was exactly what his ears wanted to hear. “Plus, your apartment is like my second home. I think I’ll leave them there for now.”
“How is my apartment your second home? It’s more or less you ran out of closet space. Please pick them up, Chanyeol. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with 15 of your black hoodies.”
“Wear them. They look better on you anyway.”
It’s an enticing notion. As much as I love comfortable clothes and huge sweaters to curl into at night, I, nonetheless, abstain from his offer because my apartment is turning into everyone’s excess storage room. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone else wearing your clothes?”
Chanyeol raises his brows and shakes his silvery locks at me. Metallic strands of hair drape over his eyes and I note how there’s no sadness lurking in them. If anything, he appears enthralled over some unknown fact beyond my understanding. “Maybe someone else later on but right now, the thought of you wearing them is my greatest joy.”
“Why is that?”
I catch a glimmer of evil perch at the corner of his mouth. He speaks clearer than before, enunciating every letter and syllable with precise diction. “Because it’ll bring me wondrous pleasure when I think about you wearing my clothes in front of the person you love, Ms. Just Moon Ahri.”
He ends his peculiar statement with a flirty wink and waltzes around me. I hear him greet Myungsoo from behind but I’m left pinned in a daze. Whereas my feet refrain from moving, my lips open and close like clockwork. They mutter to themselves, repeating his sentiments as if pronouncing it again will provide insight on how his clever brain ticks. My body finally wills itself to turn around for clarification but the question is heard by more people than I originally intended. “Why are you talking about the person I love?”
It’s in that moment when I realize the demonic boy trapped me in his horrific game of fun. Chanyeol lured me into a destructive path and easily won this round, perhaps even this entire war. I grit his name in between my teeth because I’m struck mute when I see the number of individuals Myungsoo brought with him to this event.
Lia and Seunghyun are included in the mix but the one person my eyes naturally trail towards is the last person I thought would ever show up tonight.
Sehun.
The elated boy stands with his height shadowing over me as I snap my jaw to a shut, contemplating a vow of silence for all of eternity. He doesn’t pass on the opportunity and hammers the last nail into my coffin, sealing in my death with ease. “And who is this person you love?”
My heart sinks into my gut and I feel my soul leave the atmosphere. I cry for it to take me along because I don’t know how to rid myself of this dire situation. My cheeks heat up and I’m certain they’re changing in hue as the distinct feeling of dread trickles down every part of my limbs with no remedy for a cure.
Sehun’s on the opposite spectrum. There’s a light glowing in him, a hope or desire in needing to hear the answer to his question. Soi’s lingering advice shoots through my head like a fire cannon and I mentally quiet the chaos to keep it from seeping onto my face (knowing far well it’s a fruitless cause).
As much as I want to shout out a name, none is spoken because it doesn’t feel right. It’s not the right place; it’s not the right time. I swallow the lump hinging inside my throat and barely manage to talk like a normal functioning adult, albeit rather slowly at a chopped pace. "I---I-I--lo--”
Sehun hangs onto every word and it’s similar to the night when we sat on the bridge overlooking the stream. He’s waiting for my response. He’s eager to hear a specific name marry into the air between us but somehow in some bizarre universe, there’s a deity looking out for me. There is a supreme being living on this earth and she’s come to save me in the form of Soi.
“Ahri.”
My attention snaps to my best friend reappearing. She’s sipping on her drink, unaware of what she’s stumbling into and I take advantage of it. “The person I love is Soi,” I declare. It’s not a lie. It probably not what Sehun wanted to hear but it did comprise of a truth; it’s just not the truth he was hoping for.
Soi is oblivious in how she’s become my new god as she peers at us through long lashes. She blinks from me to Sehun and there’s a brief shock as her attention ambles onto the latter male, puzzling over why he’s here of all places. I link my arm within hers, greet the rest of the group in one swooping breath, and walk in the way she came.
With one glance back at Sehun, I see him grinning to himself. It’s a soft, velvety laugh bouncing through his shoulders and travels all the way down to his knees.
And I can’t help but do the same.
My actions reflect his captivating movements. I don’t have an understanding on why I’m amused over the encounter but hide my embarrassing smile from emerging. Once we reach a comfortable distance away from the others, Soi tugs on my shirt with a free hand and an intrigue peeps through her bright visage. “Did I miss something?”
"No, nothing important---only my ultimate demise.”
“Oh, so the usual then?”
“Yes. Just the usual.” My head shakes and feel I should simply accept my entire life as one, terribly drawn out joke. I decide not to relive my shortcomings with Sehun in intimate detail and instead focus on the surroundings (because concentrating on the scenery around us won’t phase me into a blushing red pumpkin for the rest of the night).
KALON magazine emphasizes beauty from within. They favor inner attractiveness, praising the humble and modest rather than when it’s typically seen in outward appearances. It’s evident in the building they chose to host their party. The exterior portrays a cold, almost frigid construction and most wouldn’t take a second glimpse at it in passing. Its muted gray tones convey little to no spirit but once inside, the bones of the warehouse shine and provide a warmth filled with familiarity.
The high ceilings are lined with exposed metal beams. They’re painted charcoal in color and contrast against the crisp, white walls and golden light. The open plan layout is accentuated with wooden columns. They’re rich in hue with the grains depicting the structure’s old age but what piques my fascination is the furthest right corner. Black stairs lead up to the mezzanine level framed by hazed glass and black steel railings. The balcony design provides a view over the vast space and I note the easel placed in the center. It’s supporting an artwork but the piece is covered by a dark linen cloth.
“It’s the magazine cover,” Myungsoo says and follows my line of sight. “They’re revealing it tonight.”
“Are you one of the contenders?”
“Yeah, along with about 20 other photographers who are also featured in the magazine.” Myungsoo gestures to the displays around us.
Each photo is printed on heavy stock paper the size of posters and hang from thin wires attached to the ceiling. Some are single photographs while others are pages of the magazine spreads with descriptions and stories shown at a larger scale for guests to read. They’re an inside look into the publication and we walk around, perusing the various images around the gallery.
Myungsoo wasn’t lying when he said the competition for the cover art was intense. Every picture we pass by represent what KALON truly is about---a beauty instilled deep within the spirit. And somehow, I suddenly feel apologetic towards the photographer next to me.
“I’m so sorry if you don’t win, Myungsoo.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because your chances would’ve drastically increased if you had professional models for your shoot.”
Myungsoo chuckles and waves a hand to stop the nonsense. “Here. Let me show you something.” He leads us over to a shoot illustrating a female artist in her studio. She sits on the ground with charcoal drawings surrounding her feet. A man, assuming he’s her boyfriend or husband, is off to the side. His back is against the wall with a coffee and newspaper in his hands while he watches her render large sketches of the human form.
To the untrained eye, it’s a charming image just like every other image in the exhibition. It’s unique enough to be in the magazine because it shows a simple lifestyle built on a passion for the arts but also for each other. It’s how I perceive the image but Myungsoo expands on how it’s good---just not great.
“It’s an excellent image from a textbook stand point. The colors are balanced, the shot is perfectly framed, exposure, light, everything is good. It’s everything you learn in a classroom translated onto a film picture. It’s technically sound and it’s why it was accepted into the magazine.”
“But something is missing,” I follow up and he agrees.
“Yes, and can you tell me what that is?”
I study the picture, going over every detail until I notice a discrepancy in their expressions. It’s in the way they hold the items and in the manner they position themselves in the room. “Love.”
“Exactly. The photographer and stylist hired models for their shoot. You can tell by how she has the piece of charcoal in between her fingers. Artists have a natural way of drawing. It’s innate. There’s an inherent movement to their actions and it’s not easily imitated by amateurs. There’s a strain in her hands and arms and the same can be said for the guy. You can feign intimacy with longing looks and smiles but nothing beats the real deal.”
“But what Chanyeol and I did wasn’t a real love though.”
“Who’s to say it wasn’t? Love doesn’t always equate to romance. It can be a familial love, a love of the arts, or a passion for what you do in life whether it’s living or breathing. But it can also be found in a love between two friends who happen to share a platonic affinity towards each other.”
And I begin to comprehend Myungsoo’s interpretation. “It’s an understanding of one another and as the topic of our photos illustrate, it’s a comfort.”
His countenance brightens with his crescent eye smile, “You got it. Their shoot was curated. The props, the event space, and down to their very expressions were organized together. They posed in these positions because they were told to and not because they felt it. Although it all appears nice on the surface, it doesn’t leave a lasting impression. So to answer your trepidations, no, having professional models wouldn’t have increased my chances but working with you and Chanyeol definitely did. I might have to hire you two again for a future editorial.”
“Please, no. Once was more than enough.”
Myungsoo and I break out into a fit of chuckles. He runs a free hand through his hair before digging the other into his pant pocket. “I guess you’re right. If I put you and Chanyeol together in another intimate setting, the poor guy dawdling behind us with Seunghyun and Lia might actually do the impossible and self-implode.” Myungsoo clicks his head to the right and I see Sehun.
He strolls around the gallery while maintaining a distance from us. It’s a contrast from earlier when he was knitted into my space, stealing the air from my lungs and wrecking havoc on my tragic soul.
What I’m met with now is how he tends to act around me ever since our conversation all those weeks ago. We’re cordial to one another. We talk. We share the same area but there’s an implicit barrier between us. It’s a wall comprising of unanswered questions, intrigue, and tension. The last portion isn’t like the strain in the photos Myungsoo showed me. It’s not a tension felt in muscles or ligaments. It’s the kind where my heartstrings are attracted to Sehun’s. They’re unwillingly hypnotized by him and I’m either supposed to relinquish control and freely go towards him or stay absolutely stationary against the tide and currents.
They are my inward struggles but I leave the matter alone at present because the male notices me looking at him. The edge of his mouth curls into a smile and he conceals it with the back of his hand. I immediately sever my observation on him as I’m caught staring and ignore how the blushing on my cheeks is returning full force.
Myungsoo takes no heed over my veiled frets and goes on to explain why Seunghyun and Lia are here. He had a final venue walkthrough with the couple before the magazine party because their wedding next weekend will take place in a historic library located in the city’s center.
With an Old World ambiance, he tells me the ceremony room is decorated with ornate trimmings including heavy stone walls and a ceiling illustrating countless murals of rippling clouds and azure skies. But even with large arched windows stretching from top to floor breaking up the line of cold walls, the main issue Myungsoo had was the lack of natural lighting to balance out the wood accented expanse. He states the meeting took much longer than anticipated, carrying on well past the set one-hour appointment and it was why he was running late.
He adds how Sehun was asked to join at the last minute because Seunghyun and Lia wanted him to familiarize himself with the building layout. He’s one of the groomsmen but has the extra task of guiding guests to their proper seat and the go-to person for questions on the special day.
Towards the end of the walkthrough, Myungsoo mentioned the magazine party. They asked what it was for and he explained how we’re featured in KALON.
“Seunghyun and Lia wanted to know if they could come since they want to do a photoshoot the morning after their wedding. I figured this would be a great place for them to grab some ideas on where to have it and what to do.”
“They’re definitely inspired,” I say and see Lia pointing at one photo after another as she pulls insight from every single piece of artwork.
“I think so too.”
“Do they have a favorite yet?”
“They like certain elements from each but nothing quite hitting the mark. I think it’ll change once they see your photos with Chanyeol.”
“Why us?”
“Not sure. A feeling, I suppose?” He wiggles his brows and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
Like many artists, Myungsoo has pride over his work. It derives from his personality and how he dedicates so much of his time towards his chosen passion. He realizes there’s always room for improvement---to be someone who can always better their skills and talents. But for the photos he took of me and Chanyeol, I somehow sense he finds his greatest achievement strictly within those prints.
He explains there’s something else about them; something vastly richer which will transpire through every individual here tonight. Each image portrays an ease felt in the heart but they also depict how everything in the end will be all right. It’s a comfort in realizing no matter the battles or scars laced in and onto our bodies, we will all be okay.
My hand naturally moves up to my own set of imperfections and feel there’s a familiarity in what he says. They are the words I relied on heavily throughout my life and hearing them dictated out loud by Myungsoo reinforces all of my beliefs---that what we endure will eventually lead to an ending fitting of all the hardships.
“Was this the reason why you didn’t show us the photos until now?” I ask.
“Partly, but also because of my greed in wanting to see all of you react towards them first hand. Although, I didn’t plan on having Sehun here so not sure how that one’s going to work out.”
“Are you worried about his reaction?”
“A little, but I’m wondering what he’ll do once he sees them.”
“Hopefully not self-implode,” I profess into his frame and he chuckles over my use of his exact words from earlier in the conversation.
“He very well might, Ahri.”
I shy away a pleasant merriment and view Sehun from the corner of my eye. My vision rests on him and I inhale a breath of air while correlating what Myungsoo told me.
Everything will be all right.
No matter the outcome, everything will happen the way it’s supposed to and we’ll all be okay.
With a pat on the shoulder, Myungsoo leaves me with Soi as he goes off to mingle with his colleagues and industry vendor friends. I see her reading over one of the full large scale spreads featuring KALON’s editor in chief, Ji Changwook. It consists of snippets from a day in his life, behind the scenes shots of his morning to night routine, and how he runs the magazine label.
While she’s fully immersed in the writing, I scan around the warehouse and catch Chanyeol hiding behind some of the hanging posters. He appears afraid of the repercussions about to unfold due to his former games and I find it’s time for his ultimate ruination.
His dark pools of umber turn doe-like as if he’s pinned on a road and sees I’m about to shoot an arrow straight into him. He swivels around on his heel for an escape but his lanky and clumsy movements slow him down. They work in my favor because he lacks control over his gargantuan body and elongated limbs. My fingers latch onto the sleeve of his oversized tee and haul him back with a stern grasp. “Park Chanyeol.”
“Ms. Just Moon Ahri.” He displays the most innocent smile; it permeates with cherubic appeal as if he prays it’ll convince me in sparing his mortal life.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Bathroom?”
“Bathroom’s the other way. Were you running from me?”
He’s appalled by my accusation. “No, of course not. I would never do such a thing.”
“And you think I can trust the words of a man who threw me into a wolf's den earlier this evening.”
“Well, I wouldn’t really call Sehun a wolf---”
“So you admit your wrongdoings?”
“Again, wouldn’t call it wrong.”
“Chanyeol.”
“All right, okay. I’m sorry. I really am. What can I do? How do you want me to repay you? For what it’s worth, you were cute with all the stuttering and stumbling.”
I could strangle him. I really could. My hands would just have to wrap around his neck and squeeze hard until his hyoid bone fractures and his pretty little face turns blue. But I bite down on my murderous intent, grumbling over how it’s not worth going to prison on a homicide charge.
Instead, I settle the score with a small jab into his stomach and come to the horrifying conclusion about how all my friends are terrible people. They are the worst and take the ultimate pleasure in seeing me squirm inside my skin. “You’re doing a terrible job at apologizing.”
“How’s it terrible? I’m giving you a compliment.” He proceeds to extend out his arm for me to take and attempts another tactic to appease my glowering displeasure. “But if flattery isn’t what you want, may I ask what is? Perhaps I can be your genie for the night and grant you what you’re wishing for. Would that be a better form of an apology?”
He’s resorting to transforming into a genie because acting as an angel didn’t work to his benefit. I cast away my disbelief, hoping he doesn’t expect I’ll iterate his name and he’ll offer himself up like some sacrificial tribute. I grab onto him, albeit with much reservation, and follow as we make our way through the final portion of the gallery.
“I had genies fail me before, Chanyeol. What makes you far superior amongst the rest?”
“They didn’t have my wit or charisma.”
“That they did not, but I believe we’re at an impasse because there isn’t anything I want.”
Chanyeol chuckles as if I muttered a ridiculous notion and affirms everyone on the planet wants something regardless if it’s a small wish or object. He states his otherworldly talents allow him to see what others can’t and he knows all of my aspirations even if I don’t articulate the words. Worst of it is he offers to grant me three wishes without having me speak a syllable. I can’t fend off the curiosity as I tuck free falling locks of hair behind my ear.
Similar to Soi and Myungsoo, Chanyeol radiates positive energy. He thrives off the fire of carefree moments and lighthearted experiences, basking in all optimism. It’s a trait I’m learning to partake in more and more with each passing day as I join in his jests because any resistance is a hollow effort.
Before he begins, I give him a warning shot. “But if you speak one letter to your name as something I want, I will shake you silly until you’re in the right frame of mind again, Chanyeol.”
“Do you think this lowly of me?”
“I don’t, but you are one of my closest friends which means I know you rather well. So---was I wrong?”
“You’re not completely mistaken. Perhaps one day you’ll change your mind, but until then.” Chanyeol exhibits his candied grin again it’s the very smile indicating how our lives could be so different if we were made for each other. Only, we’re a shade of mismatched pieces. He doesn’t speak the sentiments wafting through our thoughts and maintains the air of our childish games. “The #1 thing you want is: to completely wipe away the existence of the dating app.”
I exhale a guffawed laugh into him and breathe out my amusement. In this case, he isn’t one bit close to wrong. For the past few months, Soi has dragged me into the hellish depths of the online dating world and I’m tormented by the notifications ordering me to swipe left or right. The blinking red light, the list of potential suitors, the deafening chimes. They all contribute to my suffering of the acutest kind. “I can’t deny this is something I desperately want.”
“Told you. Magic genie.”
“But how do you suppose you’re going to release me from this dating app prison? Soi dictated my friendship with her will be revoked if I dare uninstall it.”
“Oh my dear girl, it may come sooner than you realize.” Chanyeol winks and his benevolence is soaring through the roof as we walk side by side. He flicks his attention to where Soi is and we see her enthralled in a conversation with Changwook, KALON’s editor-in-chief. He was the man she was reading about earlier with great interest.
With hands behind his back and tousled jet black hair, Changwook beams at Soi and exudes boyish charisma as if it’s his god-given right. It’s not arrogant; it’s a bashfulness and I observe it in the way he fiddles with his fingers when he speaks to her. I’m not an expert on body language or anything but believe the poor boy is nervous (in the good way, of course). There’s a slight, growing infatuation he has for my friend and the same can be said for Soi as I haven’t seen her jubilant appearance light up a room like this in a while.
“She won’t have a need for the dating app much longer which will unbind you from your contract as a result.”
“Nicely done, Genie.”
“Like I said, your previous genie lacked my ingenuity. Wish #1---granted. Wish #2 is Ehle.”
“Ehle?” My footing stops and I direct my worries up to the tall man next to me. “Please tell me you’re not planning on stealing Ehle from Myungsoo. I rather not stand trial and testify against your criminal deeds.”
“As much as I would love to give you Ehle, I don’t want to die a horrible death by his owner’s hand when he finds out I was the mastermind behind the canine heist. What I can do is provide you with an alternative.” Chanyeol pulls out his phone, taps the screen a few times before ushering me to look at my own device.
Swiping down, there’s a mile long list of notifications from him. Every message received is a picture of Ehle’s fluffy white face and his heart tugging grin. I melt from each photo and keep it to myself how I’m already planning on printing them out so I can frame them all over my apartment. “When did you take these?”
“The day I adhered to your suggestion and borrowed Ehle so he can help me win Naia’s favor, which utterly failed by the way.”
I nearly gasp in horror, unable to fathom any person in the world not falling under Ehle’s hypnotic spell. “You must be joking.”
“Not in the slightest. Turns out she’s petrified of dogs. She hid behind anyone and anything she could get her hands on and screamed to get Ehle away from her as if he would devour her toes. You and I both know how Ehle behaves. The only thing he has a taste for is designer shoes and window curtains. It was ridiculous, Ahri. She wouldn’t give him a proper chance.”
“Similar to how she didn’t give you one either.”
“No, she didn’t. It was at that precise moment when I realized I couldn’t do it; I didn’t want to chase after her anymore.”
“And you decided to move on.”
“I did, hence the pictures. I celebrated my freedom from the horrid cycle by taking ample amount of photos with Ehle. I think you’ll appreciate the bedroom ones,” he teases and swipes my phone to the right, showing him and Ehle in matching bathrobes. Despite the latter promiscuous pictures, I give his arm a supportive squeeze; it’s the same kind he’s shown me in the past. Chanyeol appears ever so satisfied with himself and his visage is brighter than the fluorescent lights hanging above us.
What strikes me the most is the pride in his performance. It’s a blend of optimism and positivity because he’s pleased with actions, gratified he surpassed the struggles of knowing when to keep fighting and realizing when it was time to walk away from her.
“I’m glad you did.”
“Me too. It was worth it in the end.” His smiles don’t relent and if it goes on any longer, I’m certain the dimple in his left cheek will permanently carve itself into his flesh. But there’s a hidden meaning behind all of it. There’s an unknown detail spanning along the gentle features of his inviting face and it reminds me of when a person reflects fondly on a happy memory.
“Chanyeol---”
“Hrm?”
“Is there someone else you want to tell me about?”
His eyes lock onto me as his index etches itself along the edge of my chin and his response doesn’t shock me. “Yes, there is and I do want to tell you about it, but now isn’t the time, Ms. Just Moon Ahri. For at current, I will sadly have to spend the rest of my evening relinquishing my first love.”
I can’t help but find he’s spurting absurdities again but he guides my attention to the middle of the gallery. Chanyeol angles us to the last photo suspending in the center of the exhibition and I immediately sense all my breaths leave the sanctum of my heart. What he reveals is not any ordinary picture. It’s not of any random model or person.
It’s us.
It’s me and him and we’re teleported back to the cottage house with warm summer rays and a blissful scenery rivaling even the best fairy tale endings. The picture lives up to my memories as I recollect every intimate action performed. Chanyeol’s fingers against the lining of my face. His gentle hand to my thigh and the otherworldly smiles depicted on our faces as our foreheads connect to the faintest of touches. I remember every feeling felt, every thought transpiring through my mind as my eyes roam through the four corners of the image.
But Chanyeol adds to the surreal fantasy; he speaks to my hidden desire and unearths it to run wild and free.
“This photograph---this is what you want.”
My gaze links to his as he stares down at me and it’s because he knows me as much as I understand him. He’s answering what I can barely conceive or acknowledge on any given day. He’s telling me what I want, what I dream of, and what my wishes and hopes are in this lifetime in the form of one single picture.
His soft embrace on my forearm remains steady as his thumb grazes over my skin, subduing any nerves from fragmenting into shambles.
I remain stationary and permanently in place as Chanyeol’s voice echoes throughout all the corridors of my mind. I memorize the exact love felt in this image---the intimate expressions, the affectionate touches, and the distinct warmth filling my spirit as it all makes their way to my beating heart. I sense it drumming to the tempo of another and Chanyeol is quick to point out this single fact.
“This is what you want. You want the contentment, the ease, the unconditional love and how it’s simple and effortlessly clear. It’s what you imagine your life to be; it’s the future you’re searching for. Only, the male lead is someone else. He’s someone different; he’s someone other than me, isn’t he?”
My lips separate but the words fail in reply. Silence is my companion but what astonishes me is my ability to continue smiling because I remember what Myungsoo said. Whatever burden we bear, it’ll be okay and we’ll each find a resolution deserving of the struggles dealt to us. It’s an equilibrium. It’s a balance between the two halves.
“You know everything, don’t you?” I ask with my voice at a whisper.
“As much as your one and only genie should.”
“But as my friend, tell me. Do you think he could give me that? Could he give me the very thing in which I seek---in which you just described?”
Chanyeol arches to my height and he twists his head slightly as if to capture the attention of another. He’s making sure this person is listening to every word spoken. “If I was him, I would. I would do that and so much more for you, Ahri. But I’m not the one you want. You and I would make each other happy but we both know there’s another kind of happiness. A kind of love our souls yearn for because that person is the one we’re meant to be with. They are the ones we feel most at home with.”
"And you found that person, haven’t you?”
He straightens his posture and neither agrees nor disagrees to my suspicions. “Too early to tell, but again, not the right time to be discussing my active love life, Ahri. You have your own to worry about.” Chanyeol brushes a few strands of stray bangs away from my face before we return to the photo.
As the minutes go by, I can’t help but observe everyone’s reaction to it. Surrounding individuals turn quiet. Their voices dim as they inch closer and closer to study the photograph. Like Chanyeol and me, they survey every detail. They notice the loving ambience down to the imperfections situated on my skin. I hear their exhales end with a tender smile and realize how Myungsoo was correct when he said our picture would elicit an emotion transcending the norm.
The photo reveals a simple hope for the future and once more, I feel my soul strings seeking out a certain person.
Sehun is focused on the photo. His eyes are firm on the large print but his gaze doesn’t drift around the image. What moves are his fingers as his thumb sweep across his lips and chin. He releases a heady breath but whereas others sighed in relief, his encompassed a determination filled with resolve and grit.
His actions leave me in a plight of mystery but my thinking is interrupted by Changwook’s vocals channeling through the warehouse speakers. The editor stands on the second floor balcony as all guests rotate their attention onto him.
Changwook dives into the final portion of the event and begins thanking every vendor for submitting their work for a chance to grace the cover design. Within the number of attendees, I can easily point out all of the photographers because each are waiting in anticipation. Their bundled up nerves fill the air and even Myungsoo, to my far left, has his arms swung behind his back with fingers crossed for good luck.
“At KALON, we have a passion for the spirit. It’s an inner love for who we are, what we do, and who we choose to share our lives with. It’s a simple statement but extremely difficult to achieve in today’s world which is why this magazine came to fruition. We’re purveyors of simplicity and natural comfort whether if it’s within ourselves and or with another.” Changwook pauses and the audience mimics his prolonged silence. With a free hand, he grasps onto the black cloth and steadily drags it off.
Without looking at the revealed cover art photo, I can tell who won just by the sentiments expressed by the editor. Ease and comfort. Myungsoo shuts his eyes closed with his palm to his forehead. It takes him a moment to suppress the shock before bowing to his fellow photographers showing him their genuine applause.
As the celebration comes to an end, we all purchase our own print edition to keep before leaving the building. Soi and I have two whereas Myungsoo and Chanyeol grab ten each. I understand why the former is buying more than usual but have no idea why Chanyeol requires the same amount. He refutes my bafflement with how he must preserve his first marriage for as long as possible by laminating as many pages as he can. I conclude his acts are nonsensical but endearing in the least despite his aberrant behavior.
We all walk to the entrance and Soi drapes her arm within mine. She skips to a jovial rhythm and speaks my name. It oozes with caramel sweetness as she elongates the last letter, stretching it upon minutes. “Ahri---”
“Yes, Soi?” I mewl with a giggle and can’t help but ponder over what she wants. She issues my name in this manner when she needs something or feels guilty over a trite matter.
“Don’t hate me.”
“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”
“You might.”
“Again, I haven’t ever gotten close, but it would greatly help if you tell me why you think I would.”
After a few seconds of chewing on her inner cheek, I feel the excitement pour out of her like a waterfall cascading over a river’s edge. “Changwook asked our group out for drinks,” she confesses.
I raise my brows at her, “And?”
“And I know you don’t like bars. You will most likely say no to going but would you hate it if I said yes?”
“Why would I hate it?”
“Because I’m spending the weekend with you but---”
“Soi, I’m perfectly all right with driving home and having a quiet night indoors. Enjoy yourself. He seems genuinely nice.”
I see her clench the magazines closer to her body, withholding her glee from spinning out of control. If it was possible, I’m almost certain her exuberant jumps would land her straight on the moon. “I could ask Chanyeol to keep you company,” she suggests and I refuse without blinking.
“No, it’s okay. If he comes over, it means my collection of Chanyeol hoodies will increase from 15 to 16. I mustn’t allow that to happen.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Do you remember the pass code to my apartment?”
“You mean Yoo Yeonseok’s birthday?” she catches me stashing away a blushing smirk. “I still can’t believe you changed it from Won Bin’s. That’s simultaneously the most amazing and quite shocking thing you’ve done as of late.”
“A woman must move on once she’s been rejected in the clearest way possible,” I digress and continue, “And you have your phone just in case there’s any trouble?”
“Yes. I’ll even be home before curfew.”
"Good. I’ll be watching the clock.”
She sticks her tongue out at me as if I’m acting like her guardian and making sure she arrives home safe and sound. But she ends on the note of appearing relieved and more or less eager to spend time getting to know Changwook. It seems her days of reminiscing Yixing are coming to a finite end.
We reconvene with the rest of the group by the entrance before saying all of our final congratulations to Myungsoo as well as goodbyes for the night. Lia, Seunghyun, and Sehun already left earlier to pick up their wedding attire from the alterations shop before they close for the night and Myungsoo and Chanyeol decide to join Soi for drinks with Changwook. They ask if I want to go once more but the idea of an evening alone is much too tempting as I enter my empty apartment.
The silent solitude is a welcoming sight as I journey up the stairs to my bedroom with peace of mind roaming along beside me. A solo evening indoors provides a chance to tidy up after the mess Soi displaced in my room as I fold and organize the haphazardly tossed clothes. My phone rings while I place the last hanger on the rack and I look at the ID, finding it’s the said person herself.
“Soi.”
“Don’t hate me.”
I chuckle into the receiver and it’s baffling how this girl thinks I could hate her---twice. “Is this déjà vu or have we not gone through this already?”
“No, it’s serious this time so please remember I’m your best friend and I know you don’t like surprises but I literally have no choice in the matter. I would save you if I could but I can’t and he’s already on his way to your apartment but all in all, this might be your opportunity to ask him.”
I ignore Chanyeol’s wails in the background. He’s spewing something about being my genie and this is him granting my third wish but I’m confused as it is so hearing him doesn’t aid in my problems. “Wait---who is on their way here?”
“Sehun.”
I nearly choke on my saliva and an eruption of coughs bellow out of my esophagus. “What?”
“Sehun is on his way to your apartment.”
“Why?” The ability to remember how to inhale and exhale shoots out the nearest window when the doorbell goes off. An instant cold sweat roams through my bloodstream and the sound of the alarm is loud enough for Soi to hear as she curses under her breath.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Ahri. Remember, I love you. We all do. Don’t hate us or plot our demise.”
Against my every refute and call for her name, she hangs up with a click and I’m left inwardly struggling on why this is happening because it’s apparently against the will of the gods to have a quiet night alone.
The doorbell chimes for the second time and I rush to the entryway, checking the peep hole. Standing there in all his proper glory is Oh Sehun himself with not a hair out of place. I wince at this grim predicament but tow in a gulp before unlocking the dead bolt. With one hand on the door and the other affixed to my left earlobe, I barely manage a greeting. “Hi.”
“Hi, Ahri.” He responds in kind with a heated smile warm enough to melt even the coldest glaciers. I push away how the sound of my name entwines and tangles my flustered heart strings because there are more prevalent concerns stationed before us. The leading questions being---why is he here and how did he know where I live?
As if he can decipher my inner most thoughts, “Lia and Seunghyun emergency. Lia wants to have the wedding favor wine bottles etched with their names and date in calligraphy but the letterist needs them dropped off tonight so she can complete them by next weekend.”
“Oh---I could’ve drove them down.”
“They thought you would offer but they already feel bad about using your apartment as a surplus warehouse. Lia didn’t want you driving so far late at night. She suggested if I would go in their stead since they had another appointment and I said I could only if you were okay with it.”
I watch as his neck slants slightly, examining my current bewilderment and it’s because my brain is having to overclock itself trying to compute the situation.
He appears confused as if he was given wrong information. “Lia gave me your address---did she not call you? They both told me you were okay with it.”
“No, well, I assume she called Soi. I haven’t had a chance to process it all since Soi told me you were coming literally two seconds ago.” I brush my bangs away from my face and open the door wider for him to enter. But he doesn’t move from his stance and it’s as if his feet are bonded to the tiles. It hits me that he’s acting in this way because he wants to make certain I’m okay with him being here in my space. “It’s fine, Sehun. You’re not the person I want to murder tonight,” I joke.
The two on my hit list are Soi and Chanyeol. My best friend would never act under this pretense without the influence of another---that being is the devilish genie by the name of Park Chanyeol. He’ll be the first to go but I stash away my villainous side because unfortunately, I might be the one losing my soul tonight before the rest.
Sehun’s alleviated for the time being as he nods and takes the initial step into my apartment. I lead him out of the foyer and into the open living area shared with the kitchen. He circles around in place, visually sifting through the loft I now call home. In a way, our roles switched as I remember walking into Apartment 5108 for the first time nearly one year ago.
With two floors and two bedrooms, my new residence has more amenities than I require. I kept most of the furniture from when it was a model home and added only a few of my personal touches---landscape photographs and black and white portraits of my friends accenting the walls and tables. I never had many possessions to begin with but my collection is slowly growing due to new interests and hobbies.
Sehun’s hand drags along the exposed brick outlining the back wall. He feels every groove and indent as his feet advances across the aged hardwood floor. I can only imagine what his thoughts are but break him out of his musings to avoid any awkward small talk if possible.
“The wine boxes are in the guest room. It was the only place cool and dry enough to house them for the time being. Unfortunately, it’s on the second floor.” I explain while navigating.
The windowed wall in the living room leading out to the terrace provides too much light and warmth whereas the guest room is AC controlled and barely used unless Myungsoo or Chanyeol stays over for a night.
Sehun follows me up the stairs from behind as we pass my bedroom in the hallway. It still shows remnants of Soi’s destruction and I can hear him chuckle through his nose before clearing his throat. The nostalgic sound of it causes a fondness to spread inside my abdomen and it expands throughout my extremities. I’m not anal retentive when it comes to cleanliness but I do lean towards being neat more so than the average individual. Even when I lived with Sehun, the apartment always remained spotless and void of dust and dirt. I assume Sehun realizes this as he witnesses the unruly clutter.
“Soi’s doing?” he asks.
“How’d you know?”
“Seunghyun told me horror stories from when they were kids. He wants to submit her to Hoarders.”
“She’s not that bad, is she?” I turn around before reaching the guest bedroom and effortlessly laugh with him. And I miss this already. The ease of conversation. The laughter. The simple method in which we could say anything and everything to each other.
Sehun bounces his head up and down as strands of hair play over his happy eyes. “Why do you suppose she had to do renovations to her apartment?”
“That makes so much more sense now.” I quip and open the guest bedroom door.
We spend the next half hour loading his car parked outside with the wine cases. He offered to do the job all himself since he felt terrible for showing up out of the blue but I wasn’t having any of it. Didn’t seem right to sit back and watch him move all the boxes alone. Soi would beg to differ but since she’s decidedly not here, her opinion is invalid.
With the last box safely tucked in the back seat, Sehun shuts the door before a pitter patter of rain hits our shoulders. He and I both hold out our palms simultaneously while looking up but are met with an onslaught of downpour. It soaks through our clothes and onto our skin. Words barely leave my lips before I steer him to shelter under the apartment entrance overhang. Thunder and lightning rip across the atmosphere while the rain continues to plummet without a chance of stopping.
“The weather did not call for rain tonight,” I mutter and wipe away the moisture from my forehead and bare arms. Only, there’s no response as I look to the drenched male beside me. His stern gaze darts from my figure and then away to the parking lot before he slides off his suit jacket and holds it out to me.
I’m confused by his gesture but finally notice how my thin white blouse clings to me like a second skin. Everything is seen from my nude bra to the small birthmark below my breast and my left arm instantly covers my chest in haste.
I don’t even know why I did it since it’s not like Sehun hasn’t seen everything before but I’m grateful of his consideration as he walks over. He refrains from looking straight at me and places the jacket over my shoulders, holding out both lapels as I insert my arms into the sleeves. My fingers get lost in the arm holes but upon closer inspection, I finally discern this particular jacket. His suit. His entire outfit. I didn’t pay attention to it when we were at the magazine party due to my embarrassment but find he’s wearing the very garments I chose for him at SPAO.
The perfect tailoring shapes to his figure even if he’s soaked from top to bottom. The subtle vertical pin stripes elongate his already tall frame and in lieu of the lavender dress shirt, he opted for a crisp white finished by the diamond plaid tie. I don’t know what to make of his clothing choices because it could just be a coincidence. It could be just something that happened with no reason or rhyme but nevertheless, I force down the urge to stare and overthink it into the pit of my stomach.
“Think it’ll end soon?” he questions while angling his sights up to the still pouring skies.
I keep it under wraps with how the way our lives tend to pan out, it will sadly not go in our favor. “No, I don’t think so.” My answer is interrupted by vibrations and beeps coming from his jacket’s breast pocket. I quickly pull out Sehun’s phone and pass it to him.
He scans the ID and treads off to the corner as he talks with a person on the other line. He’s still within earshot so I can’t disregard his words even if I tried. I do my best not to listen but his tone suddenly changes in frequency and is at a decibel hard to ignore. My ears take in Sehun’s half of the conversation while his frustrations crowd into the outdoor area.
“You have got to be kidding me, Seunghyun.”
“She’s changing her mind---now?”
“Yes, Ahri and I loaded all the---”
“Yes, it’s storming.”
“Like hell I am, Seunghyun.”
“No, I’m not going to let you talk to her.”
“Why not? Because you’re all being certified rotten idiots and this isn’t how I wanted things to go.”
“No, shut up, Seunghyun. If you weren’t my best friend, I would’ve killed you by now.”
The overdrawn sleeve clasps over my mouth while I hold in a snort and find I’m not the only person wanting to commit homicide tonight. I curl into Sehun’s suit jacket and trek over to where he’s standing. His broad shoulders and long back face me and with folded arms, I ask, “Everything okay?”
From this close distance, I can already hear Seunghyun on the other line demanding Sehun lend over the phone. The gentleman in front of me sighs and I give him a reassured look. Dejection permeates through his eyes but he performs as ordered.
Holding the device up to my ear, “ Hello?”
“Hi, Ahri. Sorry and don’t hate us.”
Everyone seems to believe I hate people easily, in which, I don’t. Disliking a person is completely plausible and within my character spectrum but I could never hate my friends. Despite their questionable antics, they mean it all under good intentions. It’s just their execution is a bit skewed.
I release a gentle laugh, “For?”
“Lia changed her mind. She doesn’t want the calligraphy.”
“Of course she doesn’t.”
“Also the storm. We’re worried about Sehun. It’s a bit late and he doesn’t drive well in the dark. It’s a long commute and the rain. Slippery road conditions. Visibility is reduced. Hazardous trek.” Seunghyun drawls on and on and continues to stress the weather and drizzling torrent. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
“Message heard loud and clear, Seunghyun.”
“Really?” He almost sounds too astounded by how quickly I folded.
“Yes, really. Have a good night.” I tap the red end button on the screen and catch a glimpse of his wallpaper. Us. Another jingle of my heart is felt tapping against my ribs but I placate its commotion as I pass the phone back to Sehun. However, I can’t taper off the small giggles bubbling in the craters of my belly as I raise my brows at him. “You realize we have dreadful people as friends and this was all a ruse, right?”
“I’m beginning to reach that conclusion, yes.” He fiddles with his device and stares out into the lot of cars as another strike of lightning bolts across the weathered skies. It makes him jump in his skin as a child would tremble from the crackling noise.
So, I make it easy for him.
A part of me believes I shouldn’t and I should merely send Sehun on his way to drive back home but it is dangerous. It is a risky journey back and if something were to happen to him, I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself for telling him to leave.
I turn in my footing and take swift strides towards the front door. “C’mon. No use staying outside.”
“Ahri---”
Another rupture of lightning shakes him down to his bones and I stifle an amusement over his fear of rainstorms. “Look, even Mother Nature doesn’t want you to leave.”
“Is that a challenge?” he retorts with another pang of nostalgia.
“No, but it’s an offer. You can drive home freezing wet with the chance of catching a bitter cold or you can come inside. You can shower, dry off, and plan on how we can kill our friends without getting caught.” The argument appears to ease his rigid hesitancy and in a way, he looks grateful---almost relieved I’m allowing him to stay with me.
As we re-enter my apartment, I motion for Sehun to follow me up the stairs like from earlier. “I have some of Chanyeol’s clothes you can borrow.”
The sudden comment makes Sehun clear his throat as if there’s an itch, scratching and irritating him under his layers. The sensation bothers him as his left reaches around his neck, rubbing his skin to alleviate the sullen exasperation. “Ch---Chanyeol?”
“Yeah. He has a knack for leaving his hoodies all over the place and forgets to take them home.”
“Does he---” A throbbing vein strains against Sehun’s male flesh before he forces out his question with significant difficulty. It’s like the imagery is leaving an acrid taste at the back of his tongue as his mind darts off into forbidden lands, creating visual nightmares and bad dreams. “Does he stay overnight often?”
“What constitutes as often?” I choke down my glee from Sehun’s flustered inquiry and try not to smile too hard because the man in front of me has changed in character but there are traits of his which will always remain. His boyish envy is one of them.
I retreat into my closet and rummage through the contents to find him suitable clothes. I grab one of my oversized zipped sweatshirts and loose lounge pants. They’re large on me and I have a habit of purchasing pajamas from the men’s department rather than the women’s for they don’t cling to me like glue.
When I return to Sehun, he’s still suffering from my previous jests as his body leans on the metal railing. Beads of water drip from his ebony locks. They create woven straits along the contours of his prim face as I guide him to the guest bedroom. Opening the closet, he finds it lined with Chanyeol’s multitude of hoodies, t-shirts, and sleeping pants.
“He does leave a lot of clothes here,” Sehun croaks to his appalling distress. He loosens one of the buttons on his dress shirt as if the realization is restricting his oxygen flow more so than the shirt itself.
But I know how he feels about Chanyeol and the idea of wearing that male’s clothes will probably destroy Sehun’s livelihood faster than him being lit on fire. It’s all the more why I’m giving him an alternate option. “The ones in the closet are Chanyeol’s and these are mine if you want to try them on. I doubt they’ll fit you properly so you might be more comfortable wearing Chanyeol’s. Guest shower is through the door on the left and toiletries are in the bottom drawer.”
Sehun holds onto my clothes but before he vanishes into the bathroom, he flips around to me. His mouth balls into a circle as it swishes to and fro like a pendulum. It’s like he wants to ask or say something but can’t decide on which to convey. It’s a few passing moments before he accedes to a short thank you and we both disperse into our respective rooms to heat up with a warm shower.
All the while, I ignore the nagging thought of how Sehun is staying overnight in my apartment. He’s in my space. He’s in my home.
I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it as I finishing washing up and descend down to the bottom floor. I switch on the television as it aids in drowning out my emotions. I make a cup of tea while waiting for Soi and dearly wish for both her sake and mine that she keeps her promise and doesn’t leave me stranded with the man upstairs for the night. But my hopes in her returning dwindles as my eyes survey the clock.
The ticking sound hypnotizes my inner struggles while I steep my tea bag in a drone like fashion. I remain staring at the second hand while it goes around minute by minute and it’s only then when Sehun snaps me out of my despondent reverie.
“Ahri---are you okay?”
My hand stops bobbing the tea bag in my ceramic mug and I look over to Sehun standing at the other edge of the kitchen counter. What makes my movements halt isn’t him enunciating my name; it’s rather the clothes adorning his towering form. A pained grin emerges as I peer at the boy in front of me. He’s dressed not in Chanyeol’s clothes, but pitifully within mine.
I don’t know what I was expecting considering Sehun has a certain distaste for my other lofty friend. It’s apparent as I observe him in my sweatshirt. It’s zipped halfway, showing more skin than I care to be beckoned with (and I’m inwardly screaming for I’m sure I gave him a t-shirt to wear underneath) and sweatpants sticking to parts of him tighter than honey. I fight the heavy urge to sigh longingly because it’s not the right moment to reminisce previous late nights with him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I divert my attention away and concentrate on my cooling drink. “Tea?”
“Only if it’s caffeinated,” he answers and I send him a hurried glance of why as he explains. “Don’t feel like sleeping just yet.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Secret.” Sehun attempts to wink at me but cutely fails as it looks like he’s simply blinking both eyes. A cherry tint surfaces on both of his cheeks and the temptation to sigh again is back.
As I finish steeping both teas, he carries the two mugs while we walk over to the living room and sit on the L-shaped sofa. He chooses to maintain a distance between our bodies and takes the longer leg of the sofa while I sit on the shorter end. He does it to separate us, to keep us a breadth apart and I swallow the affair (because perhaps having him closer might not be the wisest decision).
We settle into our seats as I surround myself with small plush pillows. There’s a relief as I remember how he said he didn’t feel like sleeping and not that he couldn’t or can’t. We don’t live together anymore but ever since Camberley, I was worried about his sleeping schedule---how he always had trouble falling asleep until I moved in but it seems the problematic habit is finally broken.
I put a cushion over my lap and inquire on his previous answer. “Why is it a secret?”
Sehun’s broad frame ticks left to right, stirring over my question with his eyes leading straight onto the television screen. His smooth features suddenly light up as if he came across a brilliant idea. His spine straightens and he wrinkles his nose to my direction. “I’ll tell you the reason why if you find a white item in the TV show.”
“Like our color game?”
“Yeah, just like our color game. It’ll also help keep you awake while you wait for Soi to return.” Sehun’s smile deepens as he hears me say our game and I force myself to peer into my less than luster tea rather than him. The manner in which his mouth curls into a grin was always an addiction. It’s easy to get lost in his expressions and I fear it’s a practice I haven’t lost even after all this time.
“To be quite honest with you, I don’t have much faith in her coming home tonight.” I turn to the right and see the relentless downpour still soaking the landscape. Weather is probably one factor as to why she might not return but the other is her giving me this opportunity to talk with Sehun. I’m still wary over her advice and temporarily set it aside to the far off corners of my mind for now.
“Then how about we play until we’re both tired and want to fall asleep?”
I contemplate the offer but nod in agreement. Although, the action is cut short as I forgot how fast he typically is and has already found a white item. In my dire defense, the show playing on the screen is a Yoo Yeonseok medical drama rerun and there are about a million white things in every scene.
Sehun is clearly proud of himself early on and I make a mental reminder for myself to never play games with my friends ever again. I’m neither good at them nor is winning ever a possibility.
“White lab coat.”
“Would you like a secret or a task?”
“Task.”
I was half expecting secret because the last time we played this game, Sehun always chose secret. He wanted my words, my speech, my thoughts to hold onto but it’s changed this time. I place my mug on the coffee table before preparing myself for his task, inwardly pleading it’s not embarrassing or too strenuous to perform.
He senses my apprehension and presents me with a comforting reply, a hybrid game of sorts as he clarifies. “It’s nothing physical but if you don’t mind, can the task be answering a question I have for you?”
“Like the personal question of the day?”
“Yes, but without the veto power. It’ll be easy. I promise it won’t hurt.”
He and I must have varying opinions on what pain constitutes but I curl in my legs and perch my chin on bent knees. I hope what he asks of me won’t be terrible or unsettling as I await his first question.
“Can you tell me about your new job?”
“My teaching job?”
He nods, clearly interested in my line of work. I’m not quite certain what he wants to know specifically or what kind of information he wants to hear but tell him the whole of it without hesitation. “Good. It’s different from what I used to doing at St. Albans. Some days I’m scared to admit I might enjoy it more than I should.”
“You don’t mind the permanency?”
My eyes flick towards him because he remembers my conversation at the Christmas Eve dinner with his family. He remembered how I said I was afraid of settling down with a full-time teaching job because I wanted the ability to up and leave at a moment’s notice. It makes me wonder if he’s asking these atypical questions for another reason---perhaps to gauge if I’m content with settling down within other aspects of my life. “No, it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would and in a way, I kind of like getting to know the students in my class for a full term.”
“It lets you build a solid foundation with them.”
“Exactly.”
Sehun shifts on the sofa and orients himself more towards my way. His small movements captivate my every and all attention as we talk about my students. The topic reminds me of another detail. I battle if I should speak about it or not but decide it doesn’t hurt to bring it up. My fingers drum along my calves as I tell him a secretive fact I’m sure he’ll find amusing.
“My students actually ask about you.”
“Me?” His perfect brows rise in surprise and he wonders why my students would inquire about him out of all people.
“Yeah. Ada and Joon---well, mainly just Ada.”
“I thought they both went to St. Albans.”
“They did, but Ada persuaded her mom. She said if her parents wanted to provide her with the best possible education, they should let her transfer to Windemere and place her in my class. Somehow Joon got dragged in and with numerous teacher recommendations and both their parents making generous donations to the school, they were introduced into my class against my utmost dismay.”
The day when they appeared at the classroom door is still a vibrant memory. They hugged my legs and fought hard not to spill any tears from their doe-like eyes and I believe their determination in achieving the impossible is something incredibly unrivaled. It’s either that or they have parents who can’t help but cater to all their wants and needs. I smile into myself and think no other students will ever compare to those two.
Sehun catches on and shares in the benevolence displayed on both our faces. “You’ve taken a liking to them.”
“I have grown attached to them. I try not to pick favorites but it’s hard not to when they act like this. They insist on staying late with me after school and like it when I read to them before their parents pick them up. They even share a notebook together now. Ada writes quotes and quirky little facts she finds interesting.”
“And Joon?”
“He writes her little love stories.” I don’t tell Sehun some of the stories are based on us because it would mean revealing a hint of blush on my cheeks. I’m reminded of how each of Joon’s short stories all have happy endings and I’m envious of the innocence they still both preserve. “On occasion, they inquire on your whereabouts. They ask about what you’re doing and how come you don’t stop by and disrupt my class anymore.”
Sehun adjusts in his seat. He circles the ceramic mug within the palm of his hand before a grin piques at the edge of his pink-hued lips. It twists in a boy crush inducing kind of manner and he adds, “Should I then?”
“Should you what?”
“Should I come disrupt your class more often?”
Sehun’s gaze is rooted on me; his irises pierces gaping holes into my skull as if he wants to make an opening to read my inner thoughts. It feels like he’s measuring whether he can take one step deeper into my new life or not and I slowly begin to see the reason behind his distant actions and the caution he has when interacting with me.
But I’m unaware of how to bring it up and instead send him a look I give my students when they misbehave. “Only if it’s an emergency, Sehun.”
He stares back down at his tea and I ignore how whenever I speak his name, his happiness increases ten fold. I wonder if it’s derived from his name not causing me grief anymore but rather something similar to delight and contentment or hope and assurance. Although, I fear his emotions are a distraction as he points out another white item from the show.
“White ultrasound machine.”
“Should I even try anymore in this game?”
“How about I let you win the next round?”
I decline his offer and don’t want anyone to pity me even if I’m more than inept at these games. It’s also a way for me to extend this game because if I win a round, I’m afraid I’ll eventually have to ask him the very question I’m avoiding at the moment. It’ll be the one Soi voiced and I’m not entirely ready to hear his answer just yet. “Don’t worry about it. Secret or task?”
“Task.”
“Question or action?”
“Question.” Sehun pauses for a minute and places his warm mug onto the table as a preventative action before vocalizing his second ask. “I happened to hear you’re on a dating app?”
I nearly choke on my drink as I cover my mouth and swallow what I can. My hand balls into a fist as my eyes plume to astonished orbs because it’s frightening how his questions start off seemingly safe and instantly transition into disaster. I mentally groan and inwardly weep to the gods because this app will forever haunt my night and day. “H---How do you know about that?”
“Today in passing. Chanyeol has a voice which tends to echo.”
I regain whatever composure I can muster and Sehun doesn’t appear worried by it. He’s the reverse and is enjoying my ruffled behavior mingled with absolute mortification. His pure mannerisms aid me in no shape or form as I say, “It’s nothing serious.”
“It’s not?”
“No, no. Definitely not.” I shake my head more than I should because I don’t think I once considered it a viable form for dating. Not yet at least. It’s only because I never felt ready in that measure. I was and am still perfectly content with the people surrounding me and I don’t want to burst whatever comfortable bubble I'm in with the inclusion of another. “I joined solely because of Soi. She wanted someone to do this with after her separation with Yixing and I volunteered. Although, she basically did the majority of the work. Signed me up, filled out the description, and uploaded the pictures.”
“Did you end up getting matched with anyone?”
“Yes, but no one of consequence.”
“Not even Chanyeol?” Sehun inquires and I hear the end of Chanyeol’s name wing to a lilt. He’s doing the same thing he does when he’s forced to speak Myungsoo’s name and I note the annoyed tendency he still retains. His free hand moves up to the back of his ear as he scratches the annoyance away.
“No, I don’t think he’s on the platform. He only knows about it because Soi told him and since he’s decidedly one of my most wicked acquaintances, he likes to constantly pester and tease me about it.”
“I think it means you’re both comfortable with one another.”
“I am---as I am with Myungsoo and Soi as well.” I make it clear I view my two male friends as only friends. But what I see on the man in front of me is not a jealousy out of love. He seems envious of the friendship as if he desires for a type of companionship like the one I have with my three close friends---ones where he can converse with effortlessly without apprehension. “They’re easy to be around, easy to talk to even if it’s something as embarrassing as a dating app.”
“You have good friends, Ahri. I’m glad you have them.”
And I know he now has people he can rely on as well. He mentioned he had no one at first but finally depended on his parents, especially his mom, to help him through his troubles. It shows in his features---the tiredness and exhaustion a mere memory and in place of it is the face of the man seamlessly belonging in otherworldly stars.
Sehun mirrors my gaze and ambles it over towards the television screen thus concluding the short inquiry on the dreaded dating app. He implies he’s letting me have the next round and I follow suit with an item in white. “White sweater.” Like the previous turns, I choose a task.
“Question or action?”
“Question.” I contemplate on what to ask and watch as Sehun rolls up the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. I try not to think about how he fits into my apartment so easily as if he belongs and stop the notion from growing and thriving as I concentrate on our game. “Why did you choose my clothes to wear? I know you don’t have a particular liking towards Chanyeol but he’s more of your size. You would be more comfortable in his rather than mine.”
He winces as his wide shoulders scrunch and tighten into his firm body. “You’ll laugh at my reasoning.”
“I promise I won’t.”
Sehun releases the tension and falls back onto the sofa. Grabbing a small cushion from the tail end of the couch, he covers his chest as if to conceal his swelling shyness. His reserved speech is slow and I hear a hesitancy in voicing the truth. It’s only until he says it that I understand his reluctance. “Because this is the closest I can physically get to you right now. It’s the closest thing to being with you, to breathing you in, and feeling you next to me. It’s why I chose these clothes.”
My confusion returns and I’m left stranded in the middle of uncertainty. As of recent, Sehun has this tendency of pulling me towards him with simple gestures and tempting words but within a second, he can change to a stranger and takes five steps back from an unspoken wall of fear and wary. I let out a silent sigh and turn away from his steady attention, oblivious on how to properly reply.
I remain mum.
I stay connected to my silence and feign concentration on the game, knowing full well both our hearts are speaking something vastly different. It’s as if this game is cover up to what we need to face but both are unwilling to let it surface.
The night goes on with more rounds and iterations than I can count. Sehun and I take turns asking each other carefree questions. They range from a myriad of themes and topics including: his parents, his living situation, the photos hanging on my walls, the Yoo Yeonseok drama on repeat, and even Sehun revealing a secret on how he doesn’t know how to wink.
He tried earlier tonight while we were making tea and adorably failed, telling me he only attempted because he saw Chanyeol performing the motion with ease during the KALON party. I revived my skills in googling and wiki-ing to search for instructions on how to wink but to no avail. The talent eludes him.
As the evening progresses into the late hours of the AM, my eyes turn heavy and a yawn escapes my lips. I’m sprawled on the short leg of the couch and lie on my side. My limbs are outstretched while my arms hug a pillow close to my chest. "This might be my last round.” But my words come out as a jumbled mess because as the hours dwindle, apparently so does my pronunciation and speech. “White sheet of paper.”
“Secret or task?”
My ailment doesn’t seem to affect Sehun as he’s much more awake than I am. His genteel eyes flow over me, amused over my fatigued state. The tea seems more potent on him than it is on me. “Task.”
“Question or action?”
“Question.” Exhaustion is winning as another weary yawn slips in between my teeth. It’s my final question for the night but I’m still stubborn over my unwillingness to adhere to Soi’s advice. Half of me wonders if Sehun and I are characters from her novels as I choose not to ask the very question lingering on my mind. I choose something else, something much lighter because of my greed in wanting to end the evening on a good note. It’s my desire in wanting to keep this blithe atmosphere even if it’s for a few more seconds. “Earlier you said you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet. Was there a reason why?”
“Yes, there’s a specific reason why.” His sheepish smile calms me as I curl in my legs, waiting for his answer. But he sees my drowsiness and makes one last deal. "Close your eyes first and then I’ll answer.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re on the verge of falling asleep---so close your eyes and I promise I will answer your question.”
I want to fight him on it but I’m already battling heavy eyelids disobeying my orders to stay awake. I hopelessly surrender to the fatigue but as promised, I drift off to Sehun’s silvery tone swimming like flows of rivulets inside my head.
"I don't want to fall asleep because it will mean tonight will end. It will become a new day and when morning comes, I know I'll have to leave. I'll have to leave your side. I’ll have to leave you and this night will end. So---I'm prolonging it. I'm making tonight last so I can be with you for as long as you will allow."
The following morning, I wake from the sun’s early rays beaming down on my skin. With eyes fluttering open, I blink once, twice, three times before adjusting to nature’s warm light. My immediate action is looking to my left as I slip the quilted covers off my body. I assume Sehun took them from my bedroom and placed them on me before he went to sleep as my sight settles onto his slumbering facade at the other end of the couch. His steady breaths are a slow ballad to my less than norm daybreak, but not one that I mind so much as I slide off the sofa.
A smile manifests from my lips as I’m reminded of Sehun’s final sentiments from yesterday night. I don’t fight how the feeling of waking up next to him still brings me a joy no other person can ever match or replicate.
But my happiness is assuaged as I finish washing up in my bathroom and head back downstairs into the kitchen. Sehun’s no longer on the couch and I believe he must’ve woken up shortly after I did.
I lean onto the kitchen island as my fingers wrap around a cup of coffee. My wishes linger on this sole warm mug, hoping the ebony liquid will imbue me with some sort of bravery to finally ask him the question I avoided conveying all of our prior evening. It’s the very one Soi told me to relay so I can figure out the ambiguous state of what Sehun and I are. With each passing sip, I find no solution on how to even begin asking him and it doesn’t help as his voice calls out my name, putting an end to my inward thoughts.
“Ahri?”
Sehun’s grin graces my vision and all of which was once blurry starts to come into focus. His bed hair is tousled into an array of directions but still charming as I take in his winsome face. His eyes form crescent moons with the irises pooling in umber. His Grecian nose is straight from bridge to tip. And his lips flush with rose as his tongue slightly wets the upper fold.
I swallow the rock in my throat as I see him do the same. His Adam’s apple hitches for a second before I apologize for the commotion and clamor slipping him away from his deep dreams.
“Sorry---did I wake you earlier?” I ask.
“No, no. I was half awake already when you got up.”
He shakes his head with a sheepish grin and I can’t but wonder if his heart is thumping to an erratic beat like mine. It’s humming and pounding against my chest, making a noise deafening to my ears and I force myself to speak so it can flood out my inner banter. “Coffee?”
“Yeah, please.”
With a nod, I grab him a clean cup before pouring the dark drink into the empty vessel. His voice is quiet as he thanks me. Taking a step away, he leans his back on the the Carrara countertop. We remain stitched to our silence and perhaps he’s in need of liquid courage to progress through the rest of this morning as much as I do.
But I soon realize—it’s now or never.
My arms lower the drink from my lips. I set it to the side before my fingers fiddle with one another, abating the nerves from creeping through my pores. I look to all the items in the kitchen. Everything from the stove, to the refrigerator, even the pantry. I set my sights on everything but Sehun because I fear staring at him will steal away my words. I find it’s my turn to speak concisely, but the only method I can muster up is finishing our game from yesterday night.
“White mug,” I say, albeit with considerable difficulty.
Sehun’s brow raises and a tiny simpering smile twists at the corner of his lips. He’s motionless for a few moments but the seconds feel like hours before he responds. “Secret or task?”
“Task.”
“Question or action?”
“Question,” I articulate and feel my heart moving up my throat centimeter by centimeter.
I don’t want to feel the prickling nerves but they are, nevertheless, there. My hands and fingers tremble as they find a fixed point on the counter to help keep myself steady and still. My inhales and exhales become short before the final breath breathes out my hidden concerns.
“That night—did you mean it? Did you really mean it when you told me to believe in you?”
Sehun doesn’t skip a beat and answers without hesitation. There’s no wait. There’s no insecurity or doubt. “I meant every word.”
“Oh.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“No, it’s j—just. It’s just I’m wondering why—“
I battle with how to properly pronounce my worries but Sehun saves me. He helps me by voicing the very sentiments chained inside my chest and conveys his honest truth in the clearest way possible. He makes certain his eyes are on me before the quiet is cut with his voice filling the air between us. “Why haven’t I shown you how my affections for you will last longer than the duration of our lives.”
My gaze finally meets his and my beating heart, which was once at my throat, plummets into my stomach as it swims in an ocean of unreadable emotions. His specific speech hits the mark straight center. My head dips up and down before he tells me not to move and to stay firmly planted in my position.
His long legs take him upstairs and he disappears into his room before coming back with his wallet in tow. It’s the one I gave him last Christmas as he pulls out a thin strip of paper from one of the pockets. For the time being, I ignore the picture of us clearly marked inside the window panel and train my attention on Sehun.
He clasps both hands together with the thin paper in the palm of his left. He holds it down at his lap but doesn’t show me what’s written. “I remember that night as much as you do. I remember every detailed description from the moon shining over us through the thick trees, to the tranquil stream flowing over stray rocks and stones, to even our actions and the wordless dialogue exchanged from your lips to mine.”
Sehun remembers it all and in a way, he’s telling me to think back to that night, to replay the events between us. He wants me to acutely remember what he saw through his perspective.
My left hand naturally travels up to my earlobe as I knead the skin and cartilage. Every time I blink, I see more of that night flashing back like a disconnected movie reel and slowly it all comes together into one piece. I remember the vulnerability he displayed between the last two sentences. I recollect how he waited for my response that night with bated breath and the part rattling my poor spirit is how I answered his final words.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t vocalize any literal response. My voice was left unheard and I didn’t utter anything to guarantee my acceptance of him or his promise. “I only nodded.”
“You did.”
It was a nod where I couldn’t will myself to even look at him. I nodded because I didn’t know what to say. I nodded because I was left with a feeling I couldn’t fully grasp and it was because of my wordless actions that we’re standing here now.
Yet, he doesn’t tell me I was wrong. He does the opposite and explains his comprehension of why I performed in that manner---how he knows my habits and common practices down to the very minute facet.
“You nodded because you weren’t ready. There’s nothing wrong with your reaction to my words that night and I understand why you did it. You’re perfectly happy right now, Ahri. You’re happy with your life, with the people around you, with yourself. It’s the best you’ve ever felt and deep down you know what I am to you—you realize I’m a risk to the happiness you fought so hard to achieve.
And it’s why I don’t want to mess this up or move too fast. I don’t want you to regret giving me this one and final chance. I want to do this right because that’s who you’ve always been to me. You were always the right person.”
I watch as Sehun wrings the small piece of paper in his left hand. His fingers brush against the texture, feeling the crinkled edges before he holds it out to me. I gently grasp onto the end as I see his handwriting stretch across the strip.
I have a sheet of paper similar to the one he gave me. It was when we stayed at the glass house and slept on the same bed together for the first time. The following morning, Sehun left behind a tiny piece of paper next to me in which he asked what I felt sleeping next to him. I answered, ‘warm’. What I didn’t realize was he wrote his feelings out as well. He wrote out his emotions on another piece of paper and kept it with him all this time.
‘Sleeping next to you feels right.’
“My heart knew it before my head could catch up. I should’ve realized it then how right you always felt which is why I don’t want to move too fast. I don’t want to move at pace uncomfortable for you. I want to move as slow as you want me to. It’s why I haven’t progressed any further than how I’ve been acting lately because I’m waiting until you are okay with me—
Whether it takes months or years, I’ll wait until you tell me you’re ready. I’ll wait until you tell me it’s okay so I can show you the extent of how much I love and will love you for the rest of my life.”
My fingers clench onto the sheet of paper as I realize the lengths he’s going through solely for me. He’s placing me above everyone else and making certain I’m comfortable. He’s making sure in all ways possible that I see he’s doing his best to show me he’s continually learning to be better than his previous self. And it’s this single fact trembling my heartstrings as I lower my walls.
My sight connects with his. It creates an invisible line permeating with an understanding of what he did as I whisper a single thought through my lips. “Okay.”
My sound causes him to stir. His spine straightens and he matches my voice as if making sure he heard correctly the first time. “Okay?”
I hum an mhmm and add to his wishes. “Show me, Sehun. Show me a love and an eternity I can truly believe in for the rest of my life.”
Our actions mirror one another as we exchange silent glances. He draws in a hushed breath and returns with a hopeful grin reaching all the way up to his eyes as it consumes my every spirit. He takes one step forward; it’s slow, paced. His body envelops me in a familiar intimacy and it’s an act I dearly missed. His arm wafts around my waist, holding me effortlessly as if it’s where I always belonged and it finally feels right. It’s the right moment. It’s with the right person.
His left hand glides up to my bangs, sweeping away my dark locks. A warmth emanates from his lips brushing onto my forehead as he does the single action signifying something especially meaningful for us. His gentle kiss flutters about onto my skin and creates small smiles illuminating both of our faces.
With three words, Sehun proves the one thing I always searched for in this lifetime. He shows me that from the moment I wake, the one person who’ll always be there to greet me, to be next to me, to love me in the purest way possible---will be him.
“Good morning, Ahri.”
#sehun scenario#exo scenario#sehun scenarios#exo scenarios#kpop scenario#kpop scenarios#sehun#oh sehun#exo fanfic#exo fanfics#exok#exo#exo k#enaasteria#but hopefully you all see the signficance of the end#bc there were hints#but if u don't#i must've failed then lol
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