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stevebabey · 8 months

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and on the final day on august (not where i am hehe) i bring you my fic for @thefreakandthehair summer fanwork challenge! my prompt was nightswimming, its steddie (duh) and she's a baby 2.2k piece <3

— hold my hand and tread the water

The water ebbs around his ankles gently and the ripples move across the lake surface like black slicks of ink, twinkles of moonlight catching on crests of the small waves.

Steve swallows thickly.

Why did he think this was a good idea?

It's not Lover's Lake. He knows it's not— he knows that Hawkins and all its crawling rot, through roots and beneath lakes, is miles away from him.

Steve knows that even with the gate closed, if something slipped by- somehow, he can't think of how- but it doesn't matter, if it did, it surely wouldn't be able to reach him here.

It looks an awful lot like Lover's Lake in the shadow of night.

Steve blinks harshly and curls his toes in the sand, grounding himself by burrowing his feet into the soil. The sound of lapping water was once a sound of comfort, connected to a bout of nostalgia — the sort of comfort that can only come with a routine of familiarity.

Swimming used to mean... it was the exhilaration of the dive. It was the pleasant burn in his muscles and the blaze deep in his lungs as he held his breath as long as possible, pushing the limit every time.

It was the gasp, the relief of breaking the surface, a moment of loud noise before he submerged once again, muted rushing water the only sound. It was the long and solid strokes that he carved through water with. Swimming always used to to make him feel strong.

And now... there's this new fear rooted within him.

But, hell, there's lots of things that the years of fighting and surviving the Upside Down had taken from him. Steve will be damned if he adds swimming to the list.

"—Steve?"

Eddie's voice is suddenly beside him, right in his ear, and Steve flinches, dragged abruptly from his wandering thoughts. He tears his eyes from the swirling lake surface to find the other man beside him, brown eyes searching with that glaze of concern. There's a furrow in his brows. Steve feels the warmth of his hand before it lands on his shoulder, tentative and wary.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks quietly, like speaking any louder might spook Steve more. He has this tone to his voice, the one that Steve thinks might be reserved just for him. He hasn't heard Eddie use it on anyone else. His usual loud and raucous voice, so normally used for jeering and loud heckles, completely softened.

It softens Steve every time Eddie uses it.

"We don't gotta do this tonight, if you don't wanna."

"I want to."

The words rush up his throat and stick a little on the way out. Steve clears his throat and digs his feet further into the sand.

One of his hands creeps up his chest til his fingers brush against Eddie's own hand, still holding his shoulder. He meets Eddie's gaze for a moment before an intensity seizes his chest and that recognizable lurch in his heart forces his gaze away.

That lack of courage is new too. Though, that's one thing he can't seem to blame on the Upside Down.

"It's the last one." Steve murmurs, eyes back on the lake ahead of them. Faint crickets fill the orchestra of the night around them, an occasional frog tuning in with a ribbit! Something splashes in the distance.

It is the last one. The last fear to conquer to reclaim back that piece of himself. Through out their whole silly and impromptu road-trip, they've pushed that slimy fear further and further down in Steve. Burning it away, making it smaller, til Steve was feeling bigger and better. They started in a pool, in the daylight, Eddie's open palms and soothing eyes coaxing him back into the water.

Here is the end. The last one. A lake in the night time.

Steve can feel the fear curdling in his gut, the tenseness in his muscles, every single instinct that's kept him alive for the past five years screaming at him to not get in. He feels like a house of cards, ready to topple in the slightest breeze, just drinking in the sight before him. Eddie's hand on his shoulder might be the only thing keeping him steady.

He could leave, could avoid swimming during the nighttime, could retract into himself every time that sticky fear licked up his spine— bringing back memories of vines tight around his ankle, pulling, tugging, drowning him, and— Steve clears the memory with a violent twitch, muscles jumping in their tenseness.

He's so sick of being in survival mode.

Eddie's fingers on his shoulder flex, gifting a comforting squeeze. Steve can see the chipped black polish on them in his peripheral, bare of their usual rings, prepared to swim because Eddie always gets in with him. They always swim together. God, Steve's not sure what he'd do without him.

Steve swallows again, the stone is his throat budging this time as the want surges up deep in his chest; he wants to make some goddamn new memories too.

"Can you..." He murmurs, finally turning his head to peer at Eddie beside him.

"Of course," Eddie answers his unvoiced question easily, beginning to wade into the lake a little further.

The water sloshes around his ankles, climbing up his calves, and Steve's gaze drags up with it, lingering on Eddie's milky white thighs. There's another tattoo there, a sphinx-like character, curled up and stark in it's dark colour against his pale complexion.

Steve hadn't been able to hide his staring the first time they'd swum together — a tiny bright-tiled pool in a motel, one or two states back — completely entranced by the swirling ink and the bareness of Eddie's thighs.

Eddie had caught his gawking with a smug sort of grin and ribbed him for it, tugging the fabric of his swim shorts up higher to show off the full piece. Mercifully, he didn't point out the flush it brought onto Steve's cheeks. Steve had apologised, both for his staring and for doing it in one of the more improper places, but Eddie had only given that wicked beautiful smile.

"M'used to stares, Steve." He said, not nearly as bitter as Steve thinks he's entitled to be considering the man-hunt set on him. "You don't look at me like them."

Looking at the stretch of his thigh now, tattoo partially hidden away, Steve ponders Eddie's words to keep the itch of panic at the back of his neck away. What had Eddie meant? Just how he does look at him?

Some girls like long looks, like feeling eyes raking them up and down hungrily but most of them like skirting glances, always glancing away if they've caught Steve watching. Eager glances at thighs and down chests are certainly not encouraged. It's a game of back and forth. One can't be seen to be too eager, too ravenous.

Except for, Eddie seems the complete opposite. He catches Steve's keen gaze, he spots the staring and relishes in it — like Steve's attention is something is something divine and Eddie will drink in all he can get.

It doesn't feel like it's a prize the way it did in high school, girls vying for King Steve's attention. It feels... Eddie makes it feel like something to revere.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Eddie croons, beckoning Steve into the lake and away from his distracted thoughts. He's got his hand outstretched, palm up, calloused fingers relaxed and inviting Steve to hold them with his own.

He does. He's not sure when it became a thing, holding hands — probably sometime when they upgraded from pools to rivers and lakes — but Steve's grateful for it. Eddie's fingers blanch beneath the tight grip but if it pains Eddie, he makes no move to show it on his face.

Steve grips tighter. When Eddie drifts back a step, the dark water licking an inch higher on his legs, he lets himself be pulled along. Step by step. He keeps his eyes ahead, even as the other peers down into the dark water momentarily.

Eddie gasps and a jolt of fright fires off, deep in Steve's gut. He clutches Eddie's hand tighter and Eddie's head pops up, squeezing Steve's hand back.

"Fucking chilly, is all, okay? My balls are freezing, Jesus. H. Christ."

He does this silly little hop like it's going to help the chill of the night-time lake-water. It's a funny enough sight that Steve doesn't try to stifle his shaky laughter and some of his panic melts away with it. He still doesn't look down.

Eddie scrunches his nose up and then narrows his eyes at Steve. "You're laughing now."

Steve sticks out his tongue — and bites it harshly as the water sweeps up past his waist, submerging his swimming trunks and everything below. Fucking hell, it is cold. Eddie wasn't lying.

As far as each of their swims have been — there's been six altogether, or seven if you count the high bath they took together, which Steve doesn't — this one is going smoother than what he's come to expect. There's still that prickle down his spine, like ice ghosting atop his skin, but Steve can shake it in a shiver.

The water looms higher, swallowing the plains of his stomach and Steve can feel his neck craning up, trying to get taller. Still, he takes the next step. And the next.

Suddenly, there's a brush against his leg— scaly and mucky and he knows it's not what he imagines it to be but there's no clamping down the instinct built in. His heart slams in his chest and his practiced even slow breaths transform into rapid bursts, this dread clawing deep into his gut. Steve can feel his hackles rise, knows his hand must be twisting tighter and tighter in Eddie's grip.

It all shows as a minuscule reaction on his face. Steve knows because Robin told him once—regarded him with that crinkled look once when the panic attack had crept up on him during a shift, then uttered an oh shit! once she realised what was happening.

You're too good at that. She'd told once he'd managed to calm down, head between his knees in the employee room out the back.

What?

Good at hiding it. Robin said, nudging his shoulder. He can't tell from her tone it's a good or bad thing. Maybe, it's neither. You look so calm all the time, even when you're panicking.

Eddie's come to learn the signs too. The specific pinch in his eyebrows, the twitchiness of his lips.

"Woah, woah, hey, hey," He brings the two of them closer, no longer leading them out. Eddie's dark eyes dart across his face, a wrinkle in his brow as he tries to soothe. "Just a stupid fish, nothin' to worry about, you're good."

His hands travel as he speak, shaking off Steve's tight grip to slide up his tan arms. Steve's hands shoot out, desperate to hold something, to cling to something, his big hands enveloping Eddie's wrists as the other rubs gently at his biceps. Fingers curl around the tanned skin and beg Steve closer, beginning to sink down in the water as he does.

"C'mon, you're safe." He murmurs and Steve, hanging onto tight, sinks down with him. The water climbs higher, lapping at his collarbones. Steve clings tighter, clenching up in preparation. "S'just you, me, and the fishies."

"If you think that's all that's in here, you know even less about lakes than I thought," Steve grits out.

"Shit, really?" Eddie asks. Then after another moment, "You think there's crocs in here?"

"You didn't even check?"

Eddie's grin rivals the moonlight, cheeky and delighted. "Course I did," Then he scoffs dramatically, tossing his head back. Some of his hair hits the water with a splash. "Can't believe you don't trust me at all, after all this time together."

A sly smile fights to reach Steve's face; he lets it win. His panic isn't dissolved completely, just lingering in the back— but it's been beat out by his interest in conversation with Eddie, in the strange flirt they keep seeming to do.

"I don't have any trust in you at all since you picked Motel Evergreen and—"

His words get smushed beneath Eddie's palm, warm and soft against his mouth, as the other boy narrows his eyes. "Shut your pretty mouth, Steve. You promised you wouldn't bring that up again."

Even as he threatens, Eddie's eyes light with a mirth and there's that glorious grin on his face and oh god, Steve wants to kiss him.

Like a vacuum, the panic sucks out of him in a single moment as the tide turns and his nerves turn to that. Fuck. Eddie's hand slips from his face, nervous he's gotten too close, too touchy. And, well, Steve's always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so he says;

"Make me."

Something glitters across Eddie's face, a bewilderment dipped with glee. For a moment, his expression shutters as he tries to comprehend what's been said. What's been offered.

He lands on an astute, "What?"

Steve sinks into the lake and kicks off the bottom, water swishing as he starts to tread water. His feet kick and he has half a mind to spray Eddie with a face full of icy lake water but he's got that doe-eyed exuberance that Steve adores, like he's daring to let himself believe what Steve's saying.

So, instead Steve holds his hand out. He treads the water and says, "I said, make me."

Eddie doesn't waste another second.

#LexsSummerFanworksChallenge #weehe! enjoy!#i luv it a little. having a deadline made it fun cos it turned out differently than i expected!!#ruby writes steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #hurt/comfort #nightswimming #pre-steddie #uhhhh thats all i got for u :)#beloved wren if u see this i SO keep meaning to run pieces by u before posting #however this is due as of yesterday apparently lmao #apologies!

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faislittlewhiteraven · 22 days

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Been thinking this a while but

You ever think about why the House and King in SASASAaP is so much worse than it is in ISaT?

Like, at first I put it down to just 'different timelines/different worlds' but the more I think about it, the more I've realized it is very much the same world and King and the difference specifically lies with the two game's respective Siffrins.

Why the House is so different: In Act 5 of ISaT when Sif 2.0 is running around losing his mind, the House very clearly warps around him. At first this seems to be just Sif's perception of events but when the friends come to rescue him, they bring up that the rooms were warped around, which means that Sif's Wish Craft doesn't just warp time but also space. Because ISaT Sif on some level didn't want the loops to end, the House grew longer, pathways stopped making sense, they were lead to every room of the house where they had any kind of precious memory with their family (but notably not the rock trap room) etc...

And clearly the same thing is happening to the House in SASASAaP, the difference is Loop/OG's mindset: They want to get through the house as fast as possible without 'distractions' like the very helpful Hidden Library they don't know exists but at the same time they dread the king (dread their friends dying over and over and over) so the path is short and free of bosses (including those 'Nostalgia' star crest Sadnesses), but full of time consuming and tricky puzzles to delay them -even just a bit longer- from what they see as the inevitable end. ...Also the path no longer requires the Keyknife and OG Sif gets outright angry at the Change Statue when the others pray at it so make of that what you will.

Ok, so the Houses are affected by Sif's mental state, but what about the King? The King is a totally different kettle of fish. He very much is not effected by the respective Sifs' Wish Craft but he can pick up on it. And well, how does he react in ISaT when he realizes Siffrin 2.0 is using Wish Craft?

... *Thinks about a hand, squeezing*

So yeah. My theory for why the King is so much worse, especially in the Perfect Route in Start Again is simple: Loop/OG Sif had been looping so long that their reek of Wish Craft's sweet smell was basically covering the whole party and the King, not knowing who to torture directly, responds by trying to kill them all especially horribly, especially on the 'Perfect' route where Sif likely continues hiding their looper status even as they are dying. ...Trying to mentally break them just as he tries to break Siffrin 2.0 in ISaT.

...Which is also why he doesn't auto kill everyone in the 'True' route - because that's the route Sif gives up pretending they're not a mess, meaning the King can identify that Sif is the Wish Crafter by the party's concern for them and their lack of reaction (much like the King did in ISaT), can see that Siffrin is already breaking, and thus being the 'merciful ruler' he is, decides to toy with them a bit, only going for the killing blow when he gets lower on health and starts getting concerned he might lose (which in turn means most of his attention in the fight was on the clearly not ok Sif, the party likely noticed and that's probably why Isabeau was able to jump in and block the King's fatal attack in time).

So um. YEAH. That's my thoughts on SASASAaP's King; he's the exact same as ISaT's King the only difference is that by the time OG Sif reached him the first time, they'd already looped a horrific amount of times and reeked so strong of Wish Craft that the King never even entertained the 'talk them down' facade and went straight for the kill/'torture them into submission' option every time.

Not sure these details matter too much really but I figure it might be helpful to all the Loop lovers out there making wonderful fanfics to consider (circumstances Odile can theorise about if Loop ever gives her enough hints to try, perhaps?) so... yeah. Hope my thoughts were interesting and would like to hear your thoughts on the stuff I didn't manage to figure out like the skill differences between the two parties, and various people frozen in the House having different pronouns and things (currently going with: Loop/OG Sif is not really listening to anything and is possibly misremembering details they don't care about for the later but the former is very much 'I know this is probably because refined mechanics but what if-?!' area for me and I'd love to see in-setting reasoning for it) <3

Edit: Realized I forgot to mention a thing: A sweet scent is never brought up in SASASAaP probably because that might've been a later addition to the plot but I like to think it's more because everyone in the prologue is just so used to it at this point that the party are putting it down to being part of the 'King altered' House while OG Siffrin is completely numb to it at this point, and the King's not interested in talking so... yeah. No one brings it up. ...Might also explain why Bonnie doesn't offer the Melanga fritters: the sweet scent could potentially alter the taste (and also they're not 100% sure Sif likes them) so instead they offer sweets like the candy and Palmiers that would be less effected, the burnt samosas which are 'already bad' and the fish head which probably tastes so strong that Bonnie's less worried about it's taste being masked. But that's just my spitballing for excuses so hope that's helpful for anyone wanting to use this info? XD

#start again start again start again #sasasap #start again a prologue #isat #in stars and time #isat loop #isat spoilers #isat act 6 spoilers #fan theory #SAaP #start again spoilers #sasasaap spoilers #two hat spoilers

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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 5 months

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As If Destiny (part six)🌹

Part Five🌹

PLEASE READ WARNINGS FOR THIS PART! If any section makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and stop reading. The beginning is especially dark so please feel free to skip ahead to the first line break:

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Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) Witnessed death and accidental suicide. Insanity suspected and potrayed. characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

The flowers just seemed to keep on coming. And coming. And coming.

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Of all of the Capitals wealth, the flowers were only the deep color of blood.

It disgusted you.

But that's what it all looked like to your tear covered eyes. Your vision has been blurry since yesterday morning. Since the cold metal of the golden necklace hit your neck.

Reflecting the cold body of your mother.

The funeral feels as if it going on too slow yet too fast. The fake pledges of sorrow and shows of mourning were suffocating you. But saying goodbye is coming too soon. You've had months to say goodbye and yet you chose to run away, your consciousness hissed at you.

The necklace on your neck felt heavy as you picked up the two dangling rings. Those same rings have always brought a sense of comfort and nostalgia as they were a tell tale sign of your mother. You've seen them a million times but never noticed them.

One was a deep gold with vine engravings covering the entirety of the surface. In the middle was a beautiful light green colored stone that seemed to have endless mirroring panels that shone in the light. On the inside there was a small phrase: "To love, alive and ever lasting. "

The engraved words of commitment seemed to have brought new warm and silent tears streaming across your face. The ring must have been your mother's wedding ring as that was your father's declaration to always love her in his wedding vows.

Of course, you only know this because of the countless nights he stayed up watching her withering form. He kept on re-telling her his vows, remembering every word every time.

She never said a word back.

The other ring seemed far older due to the more dusty look of the gold surface. There were engravings of a family crest, symbolizing the Emberidges. Your mother's maiden name and what used to be one of the longest standing powerful families in all of Panem.

While the family blood lived on in you, the name was sacrificed as you took your father last name, the more recently powerful in comparison: Vaun.

You knew that your mother wasn't an only child but her funeral had no appearance of her siblings. Unlike your fathers dear sister who seemed to be in the act of consoling him in the moment and who has been a crucial pillar of care these past twenty eight hours.

No, any maternal aunts and uncles were butchered in the war. Your uncle Averic was deployed to District 12 and martyred in the dense woods. That day was a dark day for all of the Capital. Not only did the head of House Emberidge fall, leaving no children, but so did the head of House Snow, leaving behind only eight-year-old Coriolanus.

And of all the deaths that day, the one that crushed you the most, the heir of House Vaun. Your dear older brother. He was only fifteen when he reportedly butchered by the rebels. They did not deem him fit for a quick death.

While her brother and nephew fought across the nation, you aunt Fiora was behind in the freezing capital like most. She was the youngest of the siblings, only a mere twenty three years old.

When news came of Alerics death, she couldn't handle the suffocation she felt. And to all of the family's pleas to stay inside, she fled. It had been days of dread and being on the look out when you and sometimes Rhayen went searching for food. The coming day of finding her was a harshly rainy one.

You were once again scouring for something to eat when you had saw Clemensia doing the same. You both had shared a look of understanding in your sunken, tired eyes. Something that should have been beyond the years of two eight year olds.

You scoured for any viable sources of nutrition, jumping over and running around the countless dead bodies. Neither of you look at them too long. The sight horrifying for your young eyes and any in general. Clemensia noticed a few bags of moldy peaches and potatoes. You both nearly ran into the nearby wall in excitement. Splitting it evenly, you bid eachother goodbye and wished thr other to be safe. The streets of the crumbled capital were crawling with vultures and bandits who were more than willing to kill for any food. It could be the peaches and potatoes in your hands.

Or more grimly: your hands.

Those thoughts were intensified when you heared the crush of glass behind you.

Please no.

Please just let me get the food to my family.

You didn't have much of a choice but to run as fast as your little legs could take you. As soon as you picked up speed, so did the clearly heavier and older feer behind you. It was clear that you couldn't outrun them so you had to do what you were always warned of: run into the alleys.

You ran through murky puddles as the rain somehow intensified. The alley twisted and curved leading to who knows where. The feet behind you were not distancing themselves from you, motivating you as you began to naturally slow. You scanned the area for any stairs or holes or anything. Down the street, you found a shaky looking staircase. It was risky, but it was a better option than being someone else's meal.

Bags of food still in hand, you forced your tiny body to march the stairs, even taking two at a time.

As soon as you began stepping on the higher level stairs, the previous wooden step broke off and shattered on the ground on impact. That only made your feet go faster. The scream of the man behind you was heard. The same could be said for the sound of his body hitting the ground.

By the time the roof came into view, you were completely out of breath and collapsed onto the solid surface. You had only grasped your breath when you realized you weren't alone. You looked up to see an extremely dishevelled looking woman. Her hair was all knotted and looked as if it was ripped out in certain parts. She was pacing back and forth mubbiling incoherently.

You weren't sure what to do, absolutely horrified by her presence but you couldn't go down the way you came as the stairs were destroyed.

The roof was completely empty expect for a small unit of machinery. Rushing to hide, you didn't notice a few stones in your path. You fell head first but saved yourself with now scraped hands. However, the thud of your body alerted the frantic woman. She seemed feral to you but as her wild eyes searched you, she was no longer just a maniac.

She was your aunt Fiora.

"Cloria? Oh Cloria you are so young!" Her tear stained eyes ran over your figure and she quickly made her way to you, caressing your cheeks. This was the first instance of the now common occurance of your identity confused with your mother.

"Aunt Fi?" You asked wearily, using the nickname to possibly bring her back to reality. But all did was enrage her.

"Fi? FI? How dare you!" Her rage fueled her hand to hit you straight across the cheek. You face felt as if it was burning and tears began forming in your eyes. Your skin felt raw in the place of impact.

But Fiora was off in her own world. Her voice softend but not in realization of her actions. She drifted off into memory and nostalgia.

"Aleric was the one who made it up. Everyone called me that but he made me feel special. He always protected me you know!" Her voice began to crack and the anger came back to fill it. "I'm going to make them suffer. Every last one of them. I will burn their woods to the ground as each of them are tied to a tree for what they did. I swear it! You hear me!" Her impossibly loud declaration was told to the wind as she seemed to have forgotten your presence.

You took your chance to run to the hiding spot you intended. You grabbed the fallen bags and were nearly there when shrieks of insanity hit your ears. You turned to see your aunt clawing at her face while mumbling threats and death wishes.

Blood began pouring and an especially painful scream was heared as she cut her eye. But she didn't stop, the pain only seeming as more encouragement.

You could do nothing but watch the horror show.

You could do nothing as she got closer and closer to the ledge.

You could do nothing as she fell backwards over the edge.

You could do nothing as the sound of her body splattering echoed.

You could do nothing as you heard a group of men with swords ensuring themselves dinner.

Her screams kept on ringing in your ears as they began mixing in with the recent screams of your mother. They sounded so similar.

Is that how I will sound when I am about to die?

Any further thought was cut off by a hand on your arm. You look up to see who it belongs to when a pair of warm brown eyes filled with sympathy meet yours.

"The funeral is over y/n." He says it quietly in the now abandoned graveyard. What goes unsaid is now you have to officially say goodbye.

You look up to him, pleading for just a little more time. But you both know, you have to say goodbye eventually. You take a deep breath and slide your arm into Sejanus's as you walk over to the casket. You didn't know what to say as the words "goodbye" felt too heavy on your tongue.

Your finger brushed the fine wood untill your hand fully stopped on top of where you assumed her heart to be. You were speechless in sorrow and could do nothing but bend over and kiss the top of the casket, near her head. You gave one last look and turned to Sejanus. He gave you an understanding nod.

You both turned as he slide his arm around you for comfort. The walk to your car where a clearly broken Rhayen stood was silent. When you reached the door, Sejanus opened it for you.

"Are you sure you wouldn't feel more comfortable staying with us? Just for a few days?"

You shook your head in response. "I might stay with aunt Aeris with dad. But I don't want to abandon her home too." You said it heavily and he understood.

Sejanus always understood.

He gave you a small nod and weak smile as he gently closed the door. The closer you got to your home, the more gray the sky became.

How fitting.

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The silence of your penthouse was eerie. It seemed to strangle you with the lack of movement. The house felt cold and empty, void of all life. Rhayen had politely retreated to his quarters.

He had basically lost a daughter. There was no way you were going go ask him of any favors or demands. Not like you needed anything. There was plenty of food sent over by ma plinth. It smelled and looked wonderful but you weren't hungry. Your stomach was full with nausea.

You walked into the foyer, lit up by the open windows displaying the gray skies dimming the Capital. The stone was cold beneath your feet as you surveyed the darkly decorated room. It seemed that in that empty moment, every ounce of emotion rushed through your system. All you could remember was crumbling to the floor in anguish. You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, but by the time you had been interrupted with a knock on the door, the windows showed a night sky. You assumed it was Sejanus or his ma checking in on you, so you just quickly wiped your face and blew your nose and not taking a real moment to clean your appearance.

Your feet took hurried steps to the door and opened it to see two tall blondes staring back at you. Tigris and Coriolanus are definitely not your expected guests.

Tirgis took one look at your state and leaned over into your space to give you a comforting and genuine hug. You were slightly suprised but readily returned it. You felt protected in her hug, a feeling you've felt absent of lately.

She pulled back to look into your eyes and check over your face. You nodded in reassurance that you will be fine and shifted focus to her cousin. In his hands were stunning white roses.

"We know how hard today has been for you and we don't wish to stay long. We just wanted to give our sentiment and see if you needed anything." Coriolanus said in a tone of fright that he will make you uncomfortable.

You smiled, something that seemed to surprise you all. "Thank you both truly. Please come in!" You opened the door wider so they could follow you but they shared a look of discomfort.

"Y/N, thank you but we wished to just drop by quickly. We don't want to be a burden. You don't have to treat us with those guest pleasantries." Tigris contrasted.

"You said you wanted to help in any way you could correct?" The pair nod in agreement. "Well I think if I had some company would certainly help me right now. Being on my own doesn't seem to be the best option." You softly confessed. There was a shared look between the two before you grabbed Tigris's hand and dragged her in, Coriolanus following after.

Your three walked into your foyer that opened into your kitchen. You motioned for the two to get comfortable as you took the flowers out of the younger cousins hands. Taking a closer look, you realized that these pearly white flowers looked home grown. You laughed grimly.

"A bouquet of grandma'ams roses."

Tigris looked between the two of you, with a sad expression as she took in your deflated form and Coryo's clouded over eyes.

You turned to find a vase to put them in as the tall boy mumbled. You couldn't really make out what it was but Tigris heard him loud and clear.

"You weren't supposed to get them like this."

He shook his head in defeat as you began watering the precious roses, your back facing him.

You turned back around as you placed the case down in the center of the cabinet island.

"Please tell grandma'am thank you, it means a lot." Tigris smiled back in response with a promise to relay your gratitude. The sound of grumbling stomachs filled the now empty room and you jumped to action.

"Y/N please! Just sit down, we will be out of your hair in no time, please just rest!" Tigris was quick to intervene as you scurried around the kitchen, fixing the two a plate from the plentiful food Ma Plinth cooked up. You refused any sort of opposition and claimed that it would be a waste of such food.

Tigris turned around, expecting support from her younger cousin but was met with nothing but distracted eyes. He knew what you were doing.

If you stood still too long, you would begin thinking. Thinking would lead you to drowning in your sorrow. That's why you took any distraction and threw yourself in it. He knew it wasn't healthy and reality would hit you hard.

But maybe when it does, he will be there to help you back up.

For now, he looks at you with such emotion and rawness in his eyes as he thanked you.

You felt that he was the one who deserved thanks, letting you work out your emotion. Eventually, Tigris realized that she wasn't getting anywhere and surrendered to the delicious meal set in front of her. You placed a small amount of food for yourself to not make them feel awkward. However, much to your relief, your conversation was anything but.

The topics ranged from literature to the most recent capital gossip and everything in between. Who would have thought that on one of the worst days of your life you would be laughing so hard. You may have drowned yourself in guilt if you thought too hard on it but it was impossible with every quip and bicker between the three of you.

It was a few hours in when the sudden thought of Coriolanus's pen hit your mind.

"Oh Coryo, I completely forgot to give you back the pen I stole!"

That made Tigris laugh a bit more. You seemed so concerned for such a small matter. The boy who was supposedly "robbed" try to assure you that no harm was done but you refused.

"I'll be right back! Please feel free to grab anymore food and don't you dare be shy!" You demanded as you walked backwards and turned around when you hit the stairs, rushing up to your room.

The path to your room wasn't very far and as soon as you entered, you saw the shiny white and red pen on your desk. It had been a useful distraction yesterday in the painful drive back to your home infested with death and sorrow. You took a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts and grabbed the pen.

You walked back out in a fast pace until you came to a sudden stop. You stood right infront of the doorway of your mother's old makeshift hospital.

Oh how quick the new becomes the old.

The room looked as if it had never even been touched. No cords, pillows, tissues, or mess anywhere. Clean, tidy, and no trace of a cold, decaying life. You weren't sure how long you stood brooding before the sound of glass shattering shook you out of your haze.

In a panic, you rushed down the stairs to be met with the screams of your enraged father. Rhayen was also there and seemed to try to calm him but he kept pushing the elderly man off of him.

"How dare you both! I know the Snows never had any shame but how dare you walk into my home after such a tragedy! Were my son and wife not enough for you?! What need do you have to take the last good thing in my life?!"

You could hear the rage clearly but the heartbreak in his voice was even more evident.

What broke your heart was the sight of Tigris, clearly holding back tears as she thought over all her actions to see what she did wrong. Your eyes shifted slightly to Coriolanus who no longer held the soft expression he showed around you and his cousin. He had his mask shifted back into place, simply taking the attack from the older man.

"Sir please! I know they meant no harm, they are friends of young y/n!" Rhayen's pleas did nothing more than shift your father's anger towards him.

"Friends? And you knew of this and yet did nothing?! You vowed to protect her and you let her associated with such monste-"

"STOP! They are nothing of the sort and simply came to check in on me! They care for me. Nothing but pure and good care and concern!"

You felt your emotion being held back but such a slim shield you put up to ensure as much authority and confidence in your voice.

Your sudden presence shocked your father as he tried to get you to go back up to your outright refusal. His patience had worn thin.

"Your mother is barely cold and you have brought shame upon her memory!"

You couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They weren't violent as you would have expected but silent and delicate. Your body felt nauseous and faint as if you had just been pounced on. The words cut your already shambled heart and formed little scars of pain.

With a deep breath, you looked past your so called father.

"Thank you Tigris and Coryo." You put and emphasis on the nickname as a message to your father. "I am so sorry, please make it home safely."

They both nodded solemnly and Rhayes began to show them the door before being violently pulled back by the man he was now employed under. Even after everything he said, your father still felt the need to show that the Snows were not even woth a servants time.

Tigris looked straight ahead as she walked past the hate filled man and a quick look at you, which you met with an apologetic smile. Coriolanus, however, met his eyes with no sign of emotion expect defiance. You knew how proud Coryo was of his family's name and it was one of the few possessions of his that he could flaunt.

And to have it so openly dragged was not going to be let down easily. You wondered if he would it against you.

But right before he would have vanished from your viewpoint, he looked back at you with those ever melting deep blue orbs. Even after all he endured, he wanted to check if you were okay.

Any possible communication you could have sent his way was cut off by your father moving in between the sight of you two. The blonde boy got the message and with a soft scoff, made his way out the tension filled apartment.

As soon as the door shut, your father turned his gaze to you. Noticing you were still crying, he softened. But you didn't care. You just shook your head and Rhayen's arms came over your shaking body in comfort. Even in the silence of the penthouse, it was hard to hear your paind and soft voice. But they were sharp enough to cut your father's fury.

"I miss mom.You made me realize just how much I miss her."

You didn't want to see his expression or hear any lecture so you made your way up to your room as fast as you could.

You broke away from Rhayen's embrace, leaving him to be in the uncomfortable presence of your father.

"I did the right thing Rhayen. History was repeating itself!" He tried to justify his actions towards the young heirs of Snow.

Rhayen walked past the disgruntled man to the kitchen where the shattered vase and flowers now lay.

When your father walked into your home looking for his daughter, he was met with two blonde heads who looked far too comfortable for his taste. Then the sight of the pristine white roses came into view and memories flooded his system and rage. He couldn't throw the vase against the marble fast enough.

Rhayen sighed, exhausted as he swept up the victims of anger. "You can't say history is repeating if it isn't the same story. Different story, Tyre."

The man in question wasn't convinced and kept on going, pacing back and forth on the other side of the mess.

"I thought she was with Sejanus. He is a good boy. She is safe with him. Why can't she be satisfied with safe? And his parents love y/n! They always rave about her, especially his mother. It even makes me feel jealous!" That made Rhayen scoff.

Oh Tyre sure was jealous but not of the Plinths.

The glass was nearly all cleaned up now, the long serving man was just taking extra measures as Tyre couldn't seem to stop ranting. He knew the man was struggling with the loss of his wife and taking it out on young y/n was just an unfortunate reaction to it.

"Do you know what Casca told me? The Snows are poor. Dirt poor Rhayen! And that peasant has the audacity to walk in here and act as if he is worth a second of my daughter's time! And did you see the way he looked at me! THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER- Hey! Throw those out! I don't want to see them for a second longer."

Your father declared his distaste to the flowers Rhayen had brushed off and ensured protection.

"I am sorry sir but they seem to be gifts to miss y/n. And if what you heard was true, such roses as these must have been quite expensive and precious, a luxury the Snows could not afford. Yet, the bouquet was gifted." Rhayen offered and began his trudge up the large stairs.

Tyre Vaun couldn't think of anything that would change the elder man's mind. However, at the top of the stairwell, Rhayen turned with one last message.

"The boy grew up without his father. And I think in this case, it was for the best."

Maybe in the case of the son of Crassus Snow, growing up without the cold father really was for the best.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

You stared up at your textured ceiling as you twirled Coryo's pen in your hand. You stopped thinking a while ago. You just let your mind be taken over the fog as your finger played with the odd texture of the pen. There was clearly something engraved but due to the white surface, you couldn't tell what.

Your little escape of peace from today's activities was interrupted by the knock and subsequent opening of your cream colored door. You turned your head and a relieved sigh was breathed between your lips. Rhayen walked in with one hand behind his back.

He opened the small light near your desk for some light in your dark room but not the overhead ones as to to not burn your eyes. The small action brought a small smile and warmth to your heart.

But that warmth spread all over as you saw what he was hiding behind his back. The beautiful roses of Coriolanus. You looked up at him with a look that you warm even the coldest of men.

He smiled at your joy. "I couldn't save the vase, but I think these are what matter." You take the roses in you hands as you just sat there astonished.

Even though they were flung across the room and smashed, they seemed even more beautiful than before. In the dim dark light, their little rips and dips just added to their radiance.

You were so engrossed with the roses that you didn't notice Rhayen leave your room, closing the door behind him. Getting up, you moved the bouquet to the vase that stood proudly in the middle of your vanity with the other white flowers Coryo picked for you on your walk.

It brought you a great amount of joy that the flowers that joined it were from the same charming boy.

When you walked back to your bed, a small note caught your eye. You unraveled it and a shiny ring fell out. In fear of losing it, you quickly pick it up. Taking a brief look, it was a bright silver with small dazzling blue diamonds surrounding the surface. Your attention is returned to the note.

"This was gifted to your sweet mother when she was your age. You wear her face, her character, and now her rings. It would be an offense to her not to share this last part of her. Don't tell your father but be patient with him. And remember your mother's words: don't change sweet girl."

The letter wasn't signed but you could tell from the slightly messy and angled handwriting it was from Rhayen. He had taught himself to write and you knew he would use the skill whenever he had the chance. And you were most glad that he used it now.

Even though the note and the words within them suprised you slightly. You put the note by the flowers and took the ring in your hands.

Beneath the light, all the details were brought out. The small diamonds were more than there for show. In fact there placement was quite intentional. It seemed that thousands of miniature diamonds were placed to form a beautiful shape, each a bit different than the others on either side.

As you slid the ring in place with the others on your neck, you take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror. On either side, there was a golden ring but in the middle stood out a bright silver.

A ring that dazzled in the light and the dark.

The ring of a thousand snowflakes.

The ring of Snow.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry if you got notification that it posted earlier and saw nothing, tumblr was freaking our on me and kept on posting my drafts! I know this was far longer than the last part, thank you for reading. And I am sorry if this was a bit too dark but I think it's important for context later in the story and especially readers struggle with the Hunger Games and morals. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Much love! ❤️

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹

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liveyun · 5 months

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 ; KSJ

title. white sand

pairing. kim seokjin x female oc/reader

genre. angst, exes au

warnings. mentions of broken marriage, arguments, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, missing communication in a relationship ; divorce ; non descriptive smut, allusions to miscarriage ; surprise ending?

wc. 3.3k+

listen to : playlist

masterlist | taglist

The sky is gloomy today.

Do you want to turn a river in its bed,

Or plant a barren wilderness with wheat?

Warm water ripples underneath your feet, giving you a feeling of you being still alive. That certain feeling of your stomach churning never leaves you, as you inhale a deep breath. This wasn't new to you, at least you knowing that wasn't. Your heart throbbing with pain each time whenever you see colors swirling around your life, but not you. Everything felt blank, everyday was an endless loop.

Your thoughts never ran twice before committing anything, resulting in indiscretion.

You didn't know why you'd visit the beach once in the year when the water felt bizzare to your skin; but at least this feeling of your feet sinking in the soft wet sand, the feeling of the cold breeze soothing your skin calms down your racing thoughts.

If you can meet with triumph and failure

And treat those two impostors just the same

Triumph. You weren't sure of when you met triumph, but failure, for sure was met by you. Failure is the secret ingredient to your success, they say, but when you actually fail, there aren't many who still stand by their quote.

The bubbling pot of jealousy inside, being compared to others, despised, accused of being a traitor, these all were some things which you craved to forget, but some things can't be just forgotten, can they really be?

If you can bear to hear the truth they've spoken

That you stepped right in trap for fools. But when?

They get buried inside your own self, in one such deep crests inside your heart that when even a glance is spared over, your whole self falls into an endless slumber of contriteness. Was it fair to lead on in this way? Pity for others, harassment for your own self. The truth is factual, you have heard it by your own self, and you are ready to accept it all. It itself might hurt but all these things, at least have an honesty within that you haven't been through unfair means to provide you a bittersweet nostalgia.

They say that success and failures are like the two faces of a coin. They're both an outcome of luck with a probable chance of 50-50 for each. Hard work does not always bring success, no matter how hard you put in your efforts.

But they also say that to keep a drowning relationship afloat, you have to put in effort.

It hit you hard when you’d realized that the risk of risking it all can also mean losing everything you've ever had in your life.

It hits you even harder when you remember how the decade old moon pendant still rests peacefully between your clavicles, against the resonating of your heart. You'd wanted to throw that away in the vast ocean, wanting the hues of the blues carry your pain, the memories to a place far, far away from you.

But you never had the heart to part away with something so close to your heart.

It's the seventh year you're seeing the imprints of your feet on the dunes of the damp sand on the same day, every year.

It's the seventh year you're walking alone on the beach with no sounds of squeaky giggles tingling your ears.

You wonder if the pendant still holds the tiny pieces of paper between its leaves which have both of your initials imprinted, or it's faded away like your footprints on the sand with each wave hitting the coast. Like how the castles you'd build together did.

4th December.

Your heart beats like crazy within your ribcage when your fingers feel the gentle surface of the white pendant, a relic which once was the reason for your smile blooming like lilies in a pond. But now, it only reminds you of your failure— your failure to keep your relationship afloat. Of your broken connection.

It's the seventh year you're reminded once again that it's truly over.

It's the seventh year you've realized that you're no longer together with your childhood friend whom you'd married.

It's the seventh year you've realized that maybe you've died. Maybe a part of you has, because till death do us part did not do any justice to you. To your best friend, your husband— ex husband.

It's the seventh year you're living without him, as many would say that you're doing completely fine, maybe only you know that a part of you never has ever stopped yearning.

Never stopped loving him.

You take off the pendant from your neck, gently unfolding the metallic celestial halves. The white paper in both of the tiny compartments unveiled bold, black scrawls with tiny hearts surrounding them.

KSJ ♡ YN

You feel the pain right in your chest, spiraling up your lungs to down your stomach till you could no longer breathe properly.

It's not a vague memory in your mind the day he gifted you the pendant. The event replays in your head like it's yesterday, when you were both young adults with warmth glowing in your faces, in your hearts, surrounding each other with the blanket of love. You still remember how young he looked with flushed cheeks and eyes twinkling under the moonlight, half squeaking, half laughing at some lame joke. His warm, big hand enveloped yours as you two walked to the waves in this same beach, feet sinking to the white sand glowing in the night.

You still remember how Seokjin had made a note of how warm the water was in comparison to the weather, and you'd make a note of how the tips of his ears were a shade of crimson.

You still remember when he had handed you the pendant, smiling so brightly, saying that he's forever grateful to the moon for blessing him, and you still remember the freshness of his breath as his lips touched yours for the first time ever.

You still remember how scared you two were. Having discovered your love for eachother after pining like idiots, you knew you had a lot of talking to do. You still remember how hot his lips felt on your skin, promising you words of affirmation that you both got this.

You still remember how delicate he was at that night of your first time together, how gently he made love to you, and how he coaxed releases after releases from you, gently kissing your heated flesh with each stroke to your skin. How he'd turned to mush after you'd touched him back with the same passion, with the same desire.

You still remember his teary face when you'd met him at the altar, when you'd exchanged your vows of eternal love and fidelity. You still remember how different the kiss you'd both shared felt to be, almost like a seal to your newfound journey.

You still remember how happy you two were. You two had promised that you'd got this together.

You feel your eyes stinging with tears amidst the bitter smile that hangs loosely on your lips, because you still remember the first time when things got hard. Really hard. You still remember the shaking of his dark pupils like an autumn leaf hanging on the tree, quivering with guilt suppressed anger when he saw you flinch. He had yelled at you, for the first time ever. He stroked your back with flurries of apologies as he kissed you to sleep that day.

You remember how any squabbles were silenced without any communication gradually and how any quarrel would be slept on without any apologies from either of you.

Despite the slowly forming gap between you two, he'd still make sure to have prepared breakfast for you when you'd wake up late. How he'd still prepare the vase every two days with your favorite flowers. How he'd pull you closer to his broad chest, lulling you to sleep, or occasionally telling you about his days.

You still remember how slowly the arguments turned to sleepless nights with a fidgeting heart and a choking stomach. How everything was so gradual that it took you time to realize that it was happening, and you'd taken it for granted.

How the loud voices of you both threatened to blow off the ceiling, and how your eyes hurt after crying yourself to sleep. How dark the bags under his eyes seemed every morning. How scared you were when you realized that he was no longer behind you, let alone stroking your back when you were bawling your eyes out as he used to do earlier.

How you'd wake up to an empty side of your bed, how your texts went unanswered most of the time. How every day after work you'd return to an empty home, flowers withered and dead on vases and everything picking up layers of dust.

How you'd fall asleep with untouched food on the table when he'd return back to home late from work. How you'd no longer smell the piping hot food everyday when you'd woken up. You would wake up to the same, empty place, knowing that he had been there, but he left without even sparing a glance.

You'd also miss how Seokjin would return to home with a throbbing guilt in his heart, never putting off the blame in his heart which accused him for everything which has been happening in your marriage.

How his heart would shatter to pieces each time after a quarrel, realizing the situation. How heartbreaking your sobs were behind the closed rooms or the running showers.

But he'd never got to apologize, because a part of him wanted that to come from you too. He'd wonder at times if you thought the same.

You still remember the lone happiness which bloomed inside you after so long when you'd seen two lines on the pregnancy stick after days of throwing up in the morning. How you'd thought that maybe, maybe this could fix everything between you two. Everything which you weren't ready for, but were thrown onto. Everything which you didn't know existed between you two, but was clearly visible day after day. You were positive that it definitely would.

How fucking selfish of you.

You still remember his absence and his ignorance when you were so excited to let him know about the happy news. You still remember the piercing fight which took place when he returned from his three month long business trip. You vaguely remember how you'd cry for him at nights to hold you, trashing beside the empty bed, how you'd throw up and clutch yourself to sleep. How the doctor had already warned you of your difficult pregnancy and to avoid mental stress as much as you can.

You vaguely remember how he'd asked you why do you look so pale. You barely remember the panic, the pain when the conversation flowed to another fight, now you yelling at him. He'd screamed at you that you were a burden to him.

You faintly remember the agonizing pain at your lower abdomen, strong enough to blur your vision and strangle you down to the ground where he'd cried your name as you fell down, and everything had blacked out.

But you actually remember the look on the doctor's face when she told it out loud.

And even clearer, the look on Seokjin’s face.

You don't really want to remember everything else which happened after that. Your friends had taken you home, away from him, suggesting that it's for the best. Some of them had already warned you beforehand when things had started to fall gradually and they emphasized their surmise of the situation.

You don't want to remember anything else which happened after that. You don't want to remember how you'd know that his company had gone completely bankrupt, and how he'd tried his best to save it.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd sent him the divorce papers and the look on his face, ignoring his thin frame, dark bags underneath his eyes which seemed devoid of any light in them, at all.

You don't want to remember all the times he came back to you, called you, texted you endlessly and begged forgiveness for everything he'd done to you but not even once to come back to him.

Maybe he knew already that you wouldn't.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd gone to your once shared apartment to get back your stuff. It felt. . .empty and devoid of any life, your once warm home staring at your face with a cold air around it, partially suffocating you from all the memories you'd created together. Whether they were the happy ones, or the terrible ones.

You'd purposefully ignored the vase of fresh flowers greeting you or all the furniture being spotlessly free of any dust. You'd ignored how your heartstring tugged at you when you'd see that his clothes are still with your own in the closet and how the bed was changed into the bedsheets which you'd bought at the beginning of your honeymoon.

But you couldn't refrain yourself from stepping into his study. Maybe it was because you were sure that you wouldn't be seeing him anymore, and the court would be the last place and time when you'd see him. Maybe because there was a part inside of you which wanted you to hang on for him. Hang on for you, but you'd ignored that, suppressing the voice inside you.

You absolutely don't want to remember whatever you'd seen there anymore. Whether it was the unfinished yarn you'd knitted to a poorly made mass during those three months knitted to an almost finished sweater, or the photos of you both framed on the shelves where you'd previously seen trophies of his youth camping on.

From small kids grinning ear to ear to adolescent teens with awkward poses to full grown adults and your last photo you'd taken together at Ilsan a year ago then as a couple. Each of them rested one beside another and other memories which were caught in small handicrafts you'd thrifted during your small visits to nearby towns in your early teens.

Because that only makes you fall into the endless pit of guilt, again and again, realizing that you'd never heard his part of the story. Your initial anger had always refrained you from thinking that way, but you'd know that despite everything, every effort you two had put into your marriage, had been in vain. You remember how pale, dull, thin and silent he'd seemed at the day of your divorce. He'd just a thin jacket on his frame regardless of the freezing cold outside with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He'd acknowledged your presence with a slow, long stare of his dim, puffy eyes, a small single nod of his head. You'd ignored how much it hurt to see Seokjin like that, but you'd instead decided to move forward, no matter how painful it was.

You remember the silence from his side when the judge had asked him questions about the reasons why your marriage broke down to pieces. You'd held your breath in your chest which already hurt with the constant throbbing.

He'd answered with a voice that you couldn't recognise from the person you'd known for more than half of your life.

“I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most.”

The judge had asked again, why'd he give up. If he knows, shouldn't he be trying to make it up to you? His answer, perhaps, had shocked the judge, too.

“Once a knot gets tied between a thread, the knot forever remains, no matter how much you try to untangle it.”

The actual last time you saw Seokjin was after you two were divorced, sitting beside each other, having signed on the papers which officially meant that you two no longer were married to each other. Your heart felt numb with the pain and your eyes were devoid of any moisture, having exhausted them all within the painful months you'd spent alone with the memories haunting you.

You hadn't looked up at him, and you knew he didn't, too, and you didn't want to. You'd seen his fingers twitch on the paper where he held his pen, close to yours own, but made no further move. You'd itched to say something to him which you didn't know if you should've, but you'd kept quiet all the while.

You'd heard his tiny please forgive me,if you can the last time before you exited the court, but also from the place where you'd relished your memories, a souvenir to your old love.

You close the pendant with a snap.

It's the same day you divorced your ex husband.

4th December.

It's his thirty-first birthday, too.

As the waves crawl gently towards the white sand of the coast, you exhale in the breath you were holding in. You run your thumb on the craters like designs on the outside of the golden pendant, silently feeling the burden inside your chest now being a bit lighter.

You don't know if you've truly moved on, but the bitterness in the memories doesn't really feel bitter to you. At times they overwhelm you, but it's not intense.

You wonder if Seokjin is doing well.

We were taken from the ore-bed

And melted in the furnace pit—

We were cast and hammered to design,

We were cut and filed to fit.

You don't like nostalgia, but sometimes it reminds you that failure and struggle are the components who develop your character. If anything, it reminds you that mistakes were made and consequences were beared, but it also leaves you with a tingling curiosity inside. Is Seokjin living in the same city? Is he..is he celebrating his birthday today?

Birthdays for him were fun. Birthdays with him were fun.

You don't know. You guess it wasn't really within your imagination to imagine what it would be like for him. You just hope and wish he's doing okay. You hope he has healed well, or is healing well.

You stand up, your pendant still clutched in between your palms, no longer feeling the weight it carried for you, from you throughout the years of your life.

The weather begins to get chillier as the sun slowly makes its way away from the face of the world.

The low rustle of the waves and the slow whoosh of the wind tells you that it's time to leave.

Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding on, you turn to exit the beach. A simple smile spreads on your lips when you suddenly feel the pendant slip away from your slightly sweaty palms to the sand underneath.

You bend down to pick it up, and your hands brush against another hand which doesn't belong to you.

A warm one, and an oddly familiar,big one.

A pair of warm, curious pupils, twinkling within the dark pools of coffee hidden underneath tresses of dark hair greets you.

You look up.

“Seokjin?”

His eyes are wide and shaking slightly by the time you both stand up, your hands dangerously close to his which clasps the pendant within. He looks healthier, fuller and he's gained some much needed weight over the years. He's dressed in a white tee and black shorts, and you notice that he's let his hair grow. His cheeks have a flush which you'd notice was new to you. If anything, he looked handsomely young, as if he'd aged back.

Walk down the white sand just to watch his lonely footprints get washed away by the currents. He's trying not to fall back to the habits which tore himself away from him, but he's never been truly free from the guilt which pokes his chest in every aspect of his life.

When he saw you seated on the edge of the coast when he was out to visit the beach that meant the most to him, he couldn't believe his eyes. Every year on his birthday he'd visit the beach in the evening with a selfish hope in his heart, which he knew wasn't rational at any cost.

He used to sit on the coast the whole night, feeling the moon soothe away the burning memories of you. Hoping he'd ever find you, but always in vain. Hoping he could apologize for everything he's done except uttering a small sorry like a fucking coward.

The beach would always remind him of you.

Your hair is shorter than how he saw it the last time. Your cheeks are fuller, and your eyes have their light returned back to their places. You sat there in the same silence which he did at a distance, refusing the rational part of him which told him that it's wrong. He'd promised himself that he'd go away before you'd get up, and you seemed lost in thoughts as he took you in. Even if you two weren't together anymore, he was happy. Genuinely happy to see you okay. After everything you'd gone through. He knew, he was by no means rightful to ever look at you even, because he knew ever since then that you don't need him anymore.

Even if he tried, he could never stop loving you. Trying to be a better man everyday, wishing he could stop time and go back, knowing it's impossible. Everyday he'd wished he could. . . .

Now you're looking at him, and he doesn't know what to say. How to talk. You looked peaceful. You looked happy. You—

But when he'd seen the pendant he'd thought you wouldn't have it with you anymore, he lost it.

“Seokjin?” Fuck. This is the second time you've called him, but he doesn't find the crease in between your eyebrows as he'd expected to. You're rather smiling, a sight which he finds his heart racing miles at.

You don't wait for his response.

“Happy birthday.”

a/n : happy birthday to our silly moon prince~ hope you liked this one which i actually managed to finish in the brink of time ong

don't be sad, he's coming back soon home! :D as always, reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated 🌙🌹

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