#do you know how hard it was to commit to a composition where I don’t paint the face??
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SPOILERS FOR SALTBURN
I haven’t seen Promising Young Woman but I did just see Saltburn and now I’m so dubious about Fennell’s politics that I’m basically obligated to see PYW to confirm my suspicions. It’s not that I think she’s conservative necessarily, but more that she’s so upper class London nepo baby rich that she could aspire to socialist feminism as much as she likes but it’ll never land because her background precludes her from ever having anything relevant to say about class.
There were things I liked about Saltburn. The editing, performances, black humour, costumes, sets, cinematography (NOT the aspect ratio - will explain) and the ballsiness of certain “transgressive” scenes I did appreciate. This is what makes it so frustrating and disappointing as a film. If you turn your brain off, it’s a wild ride, quite hypnotic and lovely to look at in that specific dreamy way that the dark, cool interiors of a house get on the hottest days of the summer. I hated the 4:3 aspect ratio though, it was POINTLESS. Why was it used? Surely it would have made more sense to capture the grand expansiveness of the titular estate in widescreen? It just felt twee for twee’s sake, like it was shot to produce compositions ready-cropped for big gifs on tumblr.
The “shocking” “transgressive” “erotic” stuff is not particularly any of those things. I mean, for me anyway. It might titillate the type of new-puritan gen z-ers who self censor it to “seggs”, but there was only one sequence that felt really “wow, I haven’t seen that in movie before!” levels of Going There. And even then these scenes always felt self-consciously affected, like Fennell only included them because she wanted to write a movie with fReAkY stuff, as opposed to the freaky stuff coming organically from the characters. I remember sitting in the cinema to see Call Me By Your Name feeling like I was burning to a crisp at the scene where Elio huffs a pair of a man’s used swim trunks - because it felt so authentic to this expression of a character who is at critical levels of desperate teenage horniness. In Saltburn, when Oliver gets down on his knees and slurps Felix’s jizzy bath water, it’s like… okay? Why? What does he want? We saw him lie about knowledge of the fancy plates to ingratiate himself to the dad, we already have reason to distrust anything he says, so it’s hard to believe he has any authentic desire for Felix. And that’s the main problem with the whole movie - the writing is fairly atrocious.
There’s no mystery. There’s no ANYTHING. There’s a tiny quick-cut flash montage of future events in the movie right at the start of the thing, so already we’re going in with no doubts that Oliver is gonna go nuts. So we know that bad shit is gonna happen, and yet the movie pulls out a big Twist Ending reveal like we… weren’t supposed to know that he’s been bad from the beginning? We don’t need all these flashbacks to show us he’d planned his dastardly deeds offscreen the whole time when we’ve already seen him commit OTHER dastardly deeds ONSCREEN. He’s given zero motivation. He tells us he did what he did because he hates this rich family, starting with Jacob Elordi’s Felix, but he had planned the whole thing from before they ever even met, or saw how the family treats the other two main victims of class in the film, Pamela and Farleigh. When Oliver starts spinning his web, Felix has never been anything but genuinely kind to him. Felix never did him any personal wrong except being born handsome, popular, and rich.
That’s the other glaring issue. Fennell has said this is supposed be another one of these “eat the rich” satires, but…. beyond the usual foot-in-mouth clueless social blunders, the movie portrays none of the rich family as even all that bad. Oliver isn’t even all that poor! His family are revealed to be extremely comfortably upper-middle class! This is not Parasite!!! The worst ethical thing they do is cut off Farleigh from family money - but it’s obvious to the audience that this is actually Oliver’s fault. So all we’re left with is this main character who’s the worst of the lot, with no reason to do what he’s doing except for being an asocial loser creep. If you’re making a class satire in Britain and your message at the end of the film is “those creepy disgusting middle class will pervert and mutate themselves to have what the beautiful victimised rich people do” you’ve… uhh. Failed. Somewhere along the line.
It wants to be The Talented Mr Ripley, but it is confused and stupid. Given Fennell’s background and social circle, is it any wonder? It’s like she’s looked around at her fellow Eton Oxford lot and thought “so the poors hate us because we’re a bit silly and old fashioned, right? no wonder they’re jealous, we’re all so sexy and our houses are so nice! Of course they’d do anything to have this!” She hasn’t seemed to conceive of the fact that the working class in Britain hate the upper class because millions live in genuine poverty while they get to obstruct social change because of archaic birthright. That many people in Britain don’t actually want to be the upper class, they want an end to them.
The thing is, I had fun watching it. I laughed a lot, and then left the cinema distinctly unimpressed, as one often does after interacting with people who go to private school and are perfectly charming but clearly still think they’re better/smarter than you because they have generational land, or multiple houses. I worked for 6 years as the stable groom for the heiress to a publishing fortune, I’ve met plenty of these people, believe me. All this to say, that this is deeply frustrating because I would like to turn my brain off from the dodgy politics and just appreciate a movie that goes out of its way to be visually stylish and includes a scene where a sobbing Barry Keoghan gets naked and fucks the fresh grave of his boy best friend. Now that’s entertainment
#I love freaky weird stuff in movies that’s my favourite stuff#but not when it thinks it’s cool and clever for being freaky and weird#that’s being a tryhard#your movie should be freaky and weird because you are freaky and weird
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Astrology Observations 🍒
Synastry & Composite Edition
Please do not repost any of my work on other social media platforms 🤍
So, I’ve been really studying composite charts recently, and I’ve noticed a few things! Eros in the 8th house of a composite chart can show a couple who has really good sex. A lot of the times the sex is what’s keeping them together, unless they have strong emotional and conversational synastry!
I’ve also noticed that Neptune in the 3rd house of a composite chart can show a relationship where there is not a lot of trust. There can be a lot of lying or secret keeping in this kind of dynamic.
Mars in the 12th house of a composite chart has often been said to be a placement that suggests that two people will not be having good sex or enough sex. However, I actually have observed this placement to indicate a HIDDEN sexual relationship between two people.
Venus square Uranus in a composite chart often works better when the two people are not looking for an overly serious/stable commitment. This relationship often becomes problematic when one or both parties are attempting to make it more serious than it needs to be. This works well in long distance relationships and friends with benefits scenarios.
Juno in conjunction to one of the angles in a composite chart can indicate marriage. This is especially true if it’s conjunct the 10th or 7th house cusp.
So I honestly don’t believe that a single aspect in a natal, synastry, or composite chart can indicate infidelity or pathological lying. I truly believe someone will cheat if they want to, regardless of their astrological placements. However, there are some placements in a male chart that make me go “hmmm” when I see them. This is ESPECIALLY true if they are at an orb of 1 degrees or less. The first one is Mars square Neptune! I find that men who have this placement often engage in major escapist behaviors. They often turn to drugs, alcohol or sex to cope with life’s pressures.Their judgement is often clouded and they can be easily influenced by their friends. Another one is Venus square Jupiter. I find that these men don’t have limits when it comes to pleasure! They love sex, spending, money, and anything that’s considered pleasurable. These men often don’t know when enough is enough, and when to stop. In conclusion, I find that men with these placements don’t always know how to appropriately handle themselves in romantic relationships. However, like I said, one placement or aspect should not make you run for the hills. Often times, you will need multiple placements to support a claim. But I just thought I’d share the ones that catch my attention in a man’s chart.
Someone asked me a while ago what I thought about the aspect Chiron conjunct Mars in a composite chart! This placement can suggest healing through sex or physical intimacy when it is placed in the 2nd or 8th house of a composite chart. If it is placed in the 9th house, it can indicate that you both will experience healing through traveling together and shaping your beliefs as a unit. In this instance, spirituality or religion may feature strongly in your relationship.
Saturn gets such a bad rep. But I’ve found that Saturn on an angle of a synastry or composite chart often indicates a very long-term relationship! I’ve seen this the most when it comes to Saturn conjunct the MC in a composite chart.
If your Ascendant falls into someone’s 9th house, they likely think very highly of you and place you on a pedestal. Your ascendant will need to be aspecting the other persons personal planets positively for this to really apply. In other words, your ascendant should be making trines and sextiles to the other persons planets.
Relationships that have hard aspects between Venus and Pluto in synastry or the composite chart are very difficult to leave. There’s an addictive quality to these relationships and the endings are usually quite painful/dramatic.
I love easy aspects to Neptune in synastry as they point to a relationship in which the two people give each other a lot of grace.
When transit Uranus enters your composite 7th house, you may break up very suddenly only to get back together just as suddenly. Your relationship may enter a period in which it has a ver “on-and-off” dynamic during this transit.
As we all know, Juno is the marriage asteroid. However, it’s believed that in a man’s chart (cishet) Juno represents his ‘ideal wife’. However, in a woman’s chart it is said to represent how she will behave in her marriage and the qualities that she is likely to display.
#astrology tumblr#synastry#astrology observations#astrologyposts#astrology#astro thoughts#astrology blog#astro notes#astro tips#astro posts
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♡ hi high | sunoo ♡
today is the day–sunoo either confesses, or he doesn’t, because his heart can’t take much more of this
♡ sunoo x gn!reader | wc. 1.4k
♡ genres/tropes: FLUFF !! mild angst on his part he’s just too in love, artist!college!au if u squint
♡ mentions of/warnings: n/a
♡ a/n: this was originally something i wrote for jisung from skz and had posted on an old blog which has since been deleted </3 enjoy !
♡ masterlist ♡
Thoughts bubble up in his head brighter than the colors that surround him, bursting with possibility. He hasn’t seen you all day—he planned it that way. This is all part of his plan, that he has under control and is totally ready to execute.
So why does his stomach turn whenever he takes a step?
Sunoo leans forward, resting an arm against the lemon yellow art lockers to stretch. Why is he even nervous? This morning, in the art composition class you share, where you sit two rows in front of him and one over, he couldn’t even dare send his glance your way. He’s sure he made you worried; he’s normally sending petite paper airplanes over your shoulder with witty jokes about the assignments or the professor’s rant of the day. Heeseung already tried to talk it out of him, running the conversation in circles until he almost succeeded, but Jungwon came in with some sort of distraction. He’s the only one who knew what, exactly, Sunoo’s plans entailed.
He isn’t sure why he picked today, even. Maybe someone else picked it for him. He can’t remember. But it doesn’t matter. He knows that if he doesn’t have a hard deadline, a do-or-die date, he’s never going to commit. He’ll sit in his feelings silently forever and never do anything. How many times had he nearly gone up to you, only to rush past? Or turn the other way? Or simply stop walking altogether?
Surely, you’d seen the way he’d looked at you. You’re so clever, he knows; you have to have noticed. Most days, it was as if you drew up the sun in the morning and set it to bed at night, only to pull out a glossy curtain of stars. Sunoo couldn’t help but watch as you went throughout your day—you shared several classes, having similar enough majors. You got lunch together often and would study for shared exams together at the library. Your friend groups even overlapped. You had to have noticed.
How Sunoo’s heart soars when you’re nearby, and gets despondently sad when you’re away. How he tries to laugh brighter, tell better jokes, try to hide how his hands shake and keep his voice as steady as possible when he teases you back? How being your friend is the best thing in the world.
Falling in love with his best friend wasn’t ever an option in his head, but now he’s here.
He recalls an instance last summer, where everyone had met up to watch fireworks and eat ice cream on the shore. It took one look, and then it was as if Cupid had glued Sunoo’s shoes to the pavement. The way the rich late afternoon lit up your hair, or how your smile seemed even brighter. If he hadn’t already known, Sunoo would have picked that instance to say he had fallen in love. The moment of total clarity.
Somehow, he’s gone from leaning against the lockers to sitting on the floor, back pressed against the chilly metal. A knot forms in his throat and all too suddenly it’s hard to breathe, and everything is all too real. Could he really do this? How many stories had he read, dramas had he watched, where confessing ruins the friendship? Could he manage life without you in it? Your smile, your voice, the sweet scent of your perfume?
Those are all only stories, though.
Right?
The campus clock chimes the top of the hour in the distance. Sunoo knows his own time is running out, sand disappearing through his fingers. The flowers he purchased earlier lay idle by his side, sparking hot pinks and lemon yellows and apple greens. They don’t match the autumn weather outside, the leaves that slowly turn crunchy with the wind that nips and bites at cheeks. Maybe, if he had thought of it, he could have waited for you outside, then he could blame the flush of his face, neck, ears, on the encroaching winter breeze.
Sunoo tries to encourage himself by thinking of things that are harder than this, but that in itself is fairly difficult. Confessing to you—spitting out three simple, itty-bitty words—is harder than the college practice exam he took to get in, or any exam for his major since. At least with that, there were guidelines to follow that, if done correctly, yielded an expected outcome.
With this? With you?
There’s only hope to guide him.
The phone in his back pocket buzzes, but he doesn’t check it. He’s reminded of your text at lunch, while he was deliberately avoiding you. Treats after school? Wednesdays are always cafe days. You two meet up once your afternoon classes have finished and walk to the nearest cafe, order each other’s favorite drinks, and talk about the day. Sunoo’s planning on taking you there as your first official date, should you say yes.
Should you say yes?
He had to ask you before you could have a chance to say no.
He had to ask.
He has to ask.
The sound of his shoes against the newly-polished floor echo against the lockers. Students gathered in small groups working on beginning-of-semester projects offering him a passing glance before returning to their work. Early evening sunlight cuts at harsh angles, but Sunoo doesn’t mind. There’s only one thing he’s focused on—finding you, asking you, telling you. His heart can’t take the secret anymore. He can’t stand being in a room with you and feeling like his entire being was about to burst with how much he adores you.
The distance between the two of you, he decides as his heart pounds, either needs to vanish or become insurmountable.
The doors press open and Sunoo realizes he didn’t put his cardigan back on, it’s still tied around his waist, and the early autumn winds claw at his button down’s white sleeves. He’ll have time to do it later, he decides. He’ll have time to do a bunch later. The flowers also aren’t in his hands, left behind on the floor by the lockers, but he knows there’ll be other times to buy you more.
He’d buy you the whole world if he could.
His nerves dare him to stop, turn back, call off cafe day. His heart pushes him forward, blood rushing in his ears. You’re consuming his thoughts. He knows where to find you;it’s where you always wait. He barely registers Jungwon walking away from you, his seemingly casual glance and wink in Sunoo’s direction. It's a good luck. It’s a go get ’em. It’s the last bit of encouragement Sunoo needs.
“Why did you run? It wasn’t like I’d leave without you.” You laugh, and it sounds like bells to Sunoo. You sock him in the arm, but he doesn’t feel that either. Your gaze shifts from teasing to concerned. “Sunoo... are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just…” Sunoo stands up straight, reaches for your hands, and stops himself. The words get tangled on his tongue and he blinks slowly to catch his breath. This is it. The point of no return, and even though he hasn’t said anything, you’re clever; he knows you know something is happening. The wind blows a lock of hair into your face and, for once, Sunoo doesn’t freeze. Doesn’t stop himself or hold himself back. His hand reaches up, fingertips catching the flyaway strands and tucking them safely behind your ear. When his attention turns back to you, it seems that you’re the one who’s frozen up.
He takes both of your hands lightly in his his, fingers grasping yours with his thumbs on your knuckles. “I have something to tell you.” He curses the slight shake at the end of his words, but your hand is still so warm, even after waiting in the cold for him. Which must be why your cheeks are red, too. Because of the chill in the air?
Or maybe…
All you manage is a small “Oh?” and it’s enough to send Sunoo over the edge. This is it. There’s really no going back. He breathes deep, closing his eyes, before exhaling, the words falling out. I like you. “I like you a lot.” He’s afraid to open his eyes, but your hand hasn’t pulled away, so Sunoo dares to look.
Your eyes are wide, and your breath seems to have gotten stuck, and now Sunoo’s sure he’s messed up somehow. Fear creeps up his neck, sticking needles where even the wind can’t bite, and he’s about to pull his hand away when you tug him close. Your shocked expression turns to one of joy, and you stretch up on your toes to press a small, chaste kiss to the apple of Sunoo’s cheek, and now it’s his turn to look surprised.
You sink back onto your heels with a large smile, lacing your fingers in between his. “I thought you’d never tell me.”
#kdiarynet#kwritersworld#kflixnet#k-labels#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#enhypen scenarioes#enhypen imagines#sunoo fluff#sunoo headcanons#sunoo scenarioes#sunoo imagines#prose#enhypen#sunoo
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Hey Kayla!! Hope u r doing well.
Saw u were taking bad buddy prompts. How about one with PatPran as dads. U can try nothing complicated with lots of domestic fluff. I'd love to see ur view on that.
Hello! Thank you for dropping by to give me a prompt. This is not usually something I would write so it actually ended up working really well as a little warm-up prompt because it made me think a creatively about how I'd approach it. Served me well for a few sessions!
I'm not sure this is exactly what you had in mind, but I thought you'd like to see the end result.
(It's unedited and unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes)
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Parentis Quaestio
“I’m dead,” Pat declared, flopping down on their borrowed bed in Uncle Tong’s guestroom. Pran managed a hum of agreement as he sat down on the edge, peering over his shoulder at his practically disarticulated boyfriend.
A gaggle of summer school children had visited the Eco Village and as freeloading guests, Pat and Pran had been draughted in to help herd and entertain them.
“Who knew a bunch of nine-year-olds would be so hard to control?” Pat lamented.
“I can’t believe you let your lot run into the sea.”
“I didn’t let them. They ran in there when my back was turned!” Pran laughed, shaking his head, and Pat lifted his own head to glare at him. “Excuse me, at least none of my kids fell asleep listening to me drone on about plastic composition.”
Pran’s grin was whipped from his face and he scowled instead. “My talk was very interesting, thank you. That kid was just tired.”
“Uh huh,” Pat replied, unconvinced. His disbelief was duly ignored.
Before Pran could get too grumpy, Pat tugged him down onto the bed beside him, ignoring Pran’s amused protests as he rolled over to hug him like a limpet. Despite said protests, Pran’s hand found Pat’s head where it was laid on his chest instantly, stroking through the strands as if without thinking.
“Do you think…” Pat started before trailing off.
“What?”
“Nah, it’s alright.”
“Go on, do I think what?”
Pat chewed his lip for a second before figuring out how to frame his question. “Do you think it would be like this all the time, hectic and… and exhausted, if we, you know, if we ever had kids?”
Pran’s hand stalled in Pat’s hair, suddenly heavy against Pat’s head. “...I don’t know.”
The words were weighted with hesitation and Pat grimaced. He hurried to mitigate. “I’m not saying that we ever would have kids, I’m just saying you know.” He twisted his head up to grin winningly but Pran just eyed him knowingly.
“Is that something… you want? Kids?” Pran replied instead of taking the easy escape Pat had set up. His eyes were serious.
“It’s not that,” Pat replied. “I was just… wondering. What it’s like. That’s all.”
Pran was quiet for a second before replying. “You can tell me. We’ve never actually talked about it before so… I want to know how you feel about it.”
“I… I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it that much but I guess I kind of… expected to? Before… this, well, I guess I thought I’d end up with a girl, we’d get married and then that’s the kind of thing that just happens, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Pran argued softly.
“No. No, it doesn’t have to be,” Pat echoed definitely, but even as he said it, there was a dragging weight in his stomach. Not exactly disappointment, more a realisation that a door was locked that you’d always thought was open for you to walk through anytime if you’d wanted. “So you’ve never wanted them?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Pat’s heart skipped a beat and Pran’s hand started to move again as he looked up at the ceiling.
“So…?”
“It’s… a big commitment. You have to be ready and I’m not sure if I’m ever… I don’t know. It’s not an easy process either. We’d have to adopt and there’s no guarantees. I think… that’s another reason I’ve never really thought about it.”
“I get it. It would be a big disappointment.”
“Yeah.” Pran sighed. “Plus, not to mention our families.”
“You never know,” Pat replied jovially. “A grandkid might just get them over all the feud stuff.”
Pran snorted. "I doubt it."
---
"Our baby's all grown up and left us!" Pat wailed, flopping over the steering wheel after pulling up outside of their house.
They’d only just finished moving their daughter into her new dorm room. Barely three minutes ago, he’d been cracking jokes with her new roommates and giving her hangover advice, but the second they’d left the building he’d been sighing dramatically and pouting.
“She’s only twenty minutes away.” Pran pointed out.
“Don’t act like you’re not bothered. I know you’re going to be restless all week, just like every time she had a sleepover.”
“I was not restless every time she had a sleepover,” Pran replied with affront.
“Pran, the last time she spent the night elsewhere you cleaned your entire collection of architecture models. Twice.”
“They still had dust on them,” Pran sulked, but there wasn’t much fight in it.
“I can’t believe she’s already gone to college. It feels like we only brought her home a week ago.” Pat sighed in response, looking up at the house as if seeing their old apartment, with the nursery Pran had sacrificed his music room for and the cute but expensive bed they’d spent hours trying to put together which turned out to be just that little bit too small for a four-year-old.
It had been the first of many lessons on the steep and perilous learning curve that had hit them for that first year. Several mistakes, countless compromises and a lot of love later and here they were, back to an empty nest. The thought made Pran smile ruefully.
Parenthood had put a lot of things into a different perspective for both of them; their own upbringing, their parents’ situation, the relationships they had with them now. Some things were easier to understand; others were harder, but there was an equilibrium to it. And amazingly, all those years ago, lying on Uncle Tong’s spare bed, having their first fragile conversation about this aspect of their possible future, Pat had been right. Having a grandchild had changed things for the better.
Or at least, Ming and Dissaya could now be in the same room for over an hour and remain civil the entire time. Both Pran and Pat were happy to take it.
“Come on, we should go in. No point sitting about out here,” Pran finally said. He pushed open the door and stepped out. Pat followed him, a pensive expression on his face.
Pran pulled out his keys and walked up to the front door. As he pressed them into the lock, he felt Pat’s arm slip around his waist.
“You were making jokes and laughing when we were there but now you’re all clingy and pitiful,” Pran tutted as he pushed open the door.
“I can be pitiful if I want to,” Pat whined. “After all, maybe if I’m really pitiful, my husband will do something to cheer me up.”
There was a note to his tone that made Pran’s eyes narrow. “Is that right?”
“Well,” Pat continued, his breath warm against the back of Pran’s neck, “there’s only us here now after all…”
Even after all these years and a less than regular gym schedule, Pat had plenty of strength in his muscles and Pran couldn’t help the little buzz of warmth that slipped through him as Pat tugged him closer, pulling him flush against Pat’s front.
“Seriously?” he laughed, but made no attempt to escape.
“Come on, how long has it been since we could be as loud as we want?”
“As I recall, you’re the loud one.”
Pat hummed a shameless agreement. “And you like it.”
“Hmm, do I?” Pran pretended to be unconvinced. “I guess, you’ll have to remind me.”
He felt Pat’s grin against his skin for just a second before he was dragged inside.
#thanks for the prompt anon!#the prompt box is still open for anyone who has any ideas for little warm-up fics to get my fingers typing to#bad buddy#patpran#bad buddy fanfic#bad buddy fanfiction#bad buddy prompt#lovely asks
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August 12, 2022
😭Astrology stuff / ranting /screamin cryin Shidin my dik, don’t have much followers or ppl I know here in person so I’ll just put it here as a diary
Capricorn Sun ♑️one day around 2019 I met him on a game. We talked , instantly connected , never dated tho or met , so situationship for 3 years ( ouch!). We are still young not teenagers but this is my first ever sp, 😑I got into astrology bc of him. Read hours of all the dam synastry/composite chart observations here.
Synastry
His Cap sun/moon/Mercury/Juno in my 4th house. His Jupiter in my 7th house . Mars in my 5th . He literally felt like everything I could ask for.
My Scorpio sun in his 12th house.., My Venus in Capricorn . moon /mars in his 10th , my Jupiter in his 6th
Me -libra rising him- sag rising ( undercover detective work to guess his birth time….based on looks & personality of course 👍🏼)
Composite
Scorpio rising- was so comfortable telling me everything abt his life within like 3days of talking. More like (trauma dump)😑 As a Scorpio Sun why do we fall in love with that shid
Scorpio moon in 1st- being vulnerable with me, can let his guard down with me and just telling me everything abt his feelings
Sagittarius Sun / Venus/ Mercury/ Mars in 2nd house - yeah we were long distance besties across the us type beat. Good humor & convos, our personalities clicked.
Jupiter/ Saturn in 7th - I read this was a long commitment/marriage aspect. So when I learned this I ignored all red flags & made a little fantasy in my head that we would get married & have kids & die together lol . Didn’t help when I read somewhere that the asteroid destinn was in our 7th house 😭 litteraly meant to be together
Darakaraka/Spouse - ( lowest degree planet in Vedic chart) - Saturn 🪐😩 , man’s is literally a Capricorn stellium
When it all fell apart
My Scorpio sun in his 12th house. 🥴 one thing I ignored in astrology was how south node /12th & 8th house relationships never last & karmic . And shiiidd this ended abruptly. Like I knew this would happen , just I’m shocked. My south node is in ♑️ , his Saturn in my 8th . Jupiter is transiting my 7th house right now , I thought some lovey-dovey stuff would be happening now. But I guess it’s just a big change in relationships for me.
Lions gate portal / Full moon - I heard a lot of relationships ending right now . Meant to remove all negativity from ur life and karmic stuff with Saturn being retrograde . Uranus / mars / conjunct north node or something like that . This is meant to happen . So he was just a lesson for me. The lesson I’m still trying to figure out.
I know all you little Capricorns are so hard on yourself, I adore you . I don’t know where I messed up I’m usually careful on that stuff , maybe he just needed space to better himself , idk I’m giving myself false hope , would definitely give him another chance if he added me back , if someone sees this talk me out of it haha 😂
❤️❤️❤️
#scorpio#capricorn#libra rising#astro community#astrology#composite chart#astrology observations#capricorn moon#synastry#zodiac#astrology notes#lions gate portal#full moon#scorpio sun#capricorn venus
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I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. BUT IS THIS REALLY REAL? ARE WE ALL SEEING THIS?
- Dragon ball wont fucking die so they have to keep coming up with new shit and they were like OK. Let’s do a Goten & Trunks thing. It’s untapped potential.
- Becasue of that, becasue of them needing a story to tell, they indirectly confirmed many things that many of us already assumed but could never be said. Things like: Goten & Trunks still hang out even when they get a little older (although to be fair in the Super anime we saw them together constantly, but still, the gap between that and EOZ was unspoken for); they play video games; goten & trunks are still on the same wavelength; THEY ATTEND THE SAME SCHOOL, etc etc.
- THIS IS HUGE ! CANON GOTEN & TRUNKS MANGA! THIS ISNT FUCKING FANART! THIS IS REAL SHIT!!!!!
Im only like um 10 pages in but commenting on what I’ve seen: ARE YOU SEEING THIS SHIT ???
THIS IS SO FUNNY ...
- “we need to do a story with goten and trunks.” “What should they be doing?” “Um, the franchise is doing a SUPERHERO theme right now, so they should be SUPERHEROS, Like The Great Saiyaman!” “AWESOME! But why? They thought that the Saiyaman stuff was a little lame, no doubt..?” “Well. They’re dragon ball characters so they just have a natural affinity for saving people and being helpful, first of all. Second of all, Goten & Trunks are certified teens now so aesthetic and style is important to them, they absolutely would not go for that saiyaman shit. So clearly they have a DIFFERENT source of inspiration.” “What you mean like a video game character or something...?” “...YES.”
- “Okay so WHAT sort of video game hero is he like.. what’s his SCHTICK?” “Um. IDK. He cleans shit. Mr. Clean.” “We’ll call him...CLEANGOD. It’s stupid enough that it’s in-line for Goten & Trunks.”
AND GOTEN & TRUNKS ARE REALLY STICKING TO THAT CLEAN SCHTICK !!!! AND IT’S SO STUPID BECASUE THEY LITERALLY ..
HAVE TO COMMIT TO THIS BIT! GAH!!
LIKE THEY MADE CLEANING COOL!! Gotta Take Out The Trash . . .
and it’s dragon ball and it won’t fucking die so now they play video games and everyone has a CELL PHONE. Fuck it. Chichi on FaceTime
^ GOTEN YANKING OFF HIS PANTYHOSE ??
And “Our Transformation Sequences Aren’t Heroic At All.” That’s what he calls it. That’s what he says. That’s how he thinks.
HERE’S A SCENE THAT’S GOING TO MAKE ME THROW UP:
WHAT DOES THAT FUCKING MEAN !!!
in this manga, Trunks has to ask Pilaf to make him a watch like The Great Saiyaman’s so that he can change outfits instantaneously. Like, he doesnt know how to make one himself. Like .. MAYBE GOTEN ISNT BEING SHITTY but HE REALLY MEANS IT ?! Guys this is a canon manga. Toriyama worked on this shit. We can’t take this lightly. DOES TRUNKS NOT KNOW HOW TO DO SHIT?
Trunks says that and then Goten is like “Clearly you don’t know how to suicidebait people online.” IS THIS REAL?
Does Trunks sit down at the computer like Vegeta and cross his arms and squint really hard and like ... NOT REALLY UNDERSTAND WHAT’S GOING ON OR HOW IT WORKS? Like. Maybe he can do mechanical stuff. He can build a BMX bike and he can help his mom make blueprints. He can fix shit. But computers, are, like, it all happens behind the scenes, man. Those motherboards are tiny. Maybe he just doesnt fair well with what he cant SEE. Who knows...
UP NEXT: SON GOTEN PANTY SHOT ?!
HIS PHONE IS IN THERE VIBRATING. YES HE HAS A PHONE. EVERYBODY HAS A PHONE NOW.
BUT... WHERE’S THE POCKET EXACTLY ...?
THE COMPOSITION OF THIS SHOT .. THEY HAD TO DRAW HIS CAPE LIGHTLY WAVING OUT OF THE WAY ... SO WE CAN ALL SEE HIS ASS VIBRATE ..
WAIT. GIVE ME LIKE 5 MINUTES.
Speaking of Son Goten’s outfit. Look at his jeans and belt:
Typical enough in dragon ball but like... I’m jealous. Who bought him that nice ass belt.
Anyway this is just so stupid look at this.
Goten on his damn phone. Trunks is like “I just wanna FIGHT SOME MIGHTY EVIL and do it with swagg :/”
Honestly I feel for the kid. In blood and upbringing, he just wants to do good, kick ass, and pop off. Hang in there little dude...!
KINTO-UN CAMEO ! Also THEY GO TO THE SAME SCHOOL?!!1>?!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!?
I should save the rant about their superhero outfits for a different post but IDK when that’ll be. Theyre just so stupid. They’re skintight yet bulky at the worst points. Theyre ugly colors. GOTEN HAS A LONG, LUXURIOUS CAPE while Trunks has a TINY BABY BITCH CAPE and I KNOW they pick on each other for that stuff.
Goten is like “Atleast my cape isnt a napkin. Atleast when we’re in the air everybody can see my cape and know I’m a superhero.” And then when he goes to the bathroom and comes back there is pee and toilet paper stuck on his cape and it gets caught on all the door handles.
Trunks is like “Goten. You don’t live in Capsule Corp so I dont blame you for not knowing this, but when you design any new product, you have to learn how to marry STYLE with USE. My cape has attitude, it’s short and advant-garde, it’s recognizable, and it’s PRACTICAL. Your cape is gonna have you getting tangled up in yourself while trying to catch bullets.”
Goten is like “It is YOU who doesnt know anything about style. Watch my cape frame every pose I pull, silhouetting me against the backdrop of carnage that we have arrived to fix; watch my cape dance behind me like a loyal shadow; watch my large, classy, strong cape bring comfort to these towns on SIGHT, while your tiny baby bitch cape distinguishes you only as a feckless fool, an EMBARRASSMENT to heroes everywhere, and the forces of evil will point and laugh when you threaten them!”
and then when goten walks away Trunks just picks up goten’s cape and puts it on some piece of metal infrastructure protruding from the building theyre arguing behind, and he watches as it just completely tears off as Goten stubbornly maintains his pace walking away.
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Dark Arle's Special Training Theater
MANZAI 1
Ecolo: Ah! Hey, there's Arle over there!
I'll go over and say hi. Might give her a good scare~
Heya~!
Arle: E-Ecolo?!
Wh...whoa!!
Ecolo: Oops, looks like I overdid it. Now she's dangling off a cliff~!
Arle: H-help meeeee...!
Ecolo: Hmmm, but rescuing you the normal way would be so boring... I got it!
If you let me borrow your body again, I guess I could save you~!
Arle: No way!!
...Then again, it looks like I'm kinda out of options...
Ecolo: Hooray! I’ma take this then~♪
Dark Arle: Eheheheh. Wow, I haven't felt this way in so long… This is nice!
Odette: ...I feel like I just witnessed something I wasn't supposed to…
Dark Arle: Oops! How long have you been standing there?
Odette: Uh-uhm…
Dark Arle: Just keep what you just saw a secret from a girl with red, curly pigtails! Okay?
Odette: O...okay.
Dark Arle: You gotta promise! She's got a green hairpin on her bangs, you hear me?
Odette: I promise…
Dark Arle: Pinky swear! It's a secret from the girl who always has an apple in her hand!
Think you got that?
Odette: I-I'll commit it to memory!
Dark Arle: Goodie~♪
Odette: Huh...? Wait, did she ask me to tell or...not to tell...?
Which one was it again...?
MANZAI 2
Ringo: HEEEY!! ECOLOOOO!!
Dark Arle: Hey, it's Ringo! Aww, you really came for me~!
Ringo: I can't believe you! You went and possessed Arle again!
C'mon, get out of there already! Shoo, shoo!
Dark Arle: Wait, Ringo. I asked Arle for permission, and she said it was okay!
Ringo: I…don't believe you for even one zeptosecond![1]
Dark Arle: ...You're so mean.
Ringo: Ecolo?
Dark Arle: ...I just wanted to play with you. I wanted to have fun together…
But... Looks like all I did was make you angry… I'm sorry…
Ringo: Ecolo…
Maybe I went too far. It's just...
Dark Arle: Hooray! So you're okay with it too~♪
Ringo: HUH!?
Dark Arle: Who knows when I'll get this chance again! So I think I'll live it up a little!!
See ya, Ringo~!
Ringo: What the…
ECOLO, YOU IDIOT!!!
MANZAI 3
Dark Arle: Hm~ Who can I have fun teasing next?
Oh, there's gramps! Nice timing!
Heeey, guess who!
Satan: Th...that voice. Is that you, Arly?!
*dramatic drumroll!*
Satan:...Wait, you're not Arle!!
Ecolo... Should you be plotting mischief again, prepare yourself for my unbridled wrath...!
Dark Arle: Ahaha! Sorry, gramps, but it's kinda hard to take your threats seriously when you're dressed like that~
Ringo: HEY! ECOLO! ...Wait, huh?
What's that weird, yellow thing with you?!
Satan: Did you just call the Dark Prince a "weird, yellow thing"?
Dark Arle: Hey, gramps, what gives!
Why do you get to creep Ringo out now? That’s my job!
Satan: I am not creeping out anyone!
Dark Arle: Uh... Urgh…
Ringo: Wait, Ecolo, what's wrong? Do you have a stomachache?
Dark Arle: E... E…
Espiegle!
Ba-BAM!!
Ringo: Wh-whoa! Where did these innumerable[2] Nuisance Puyo above dark-ish Arle come from?!
Satan: Why are they attacking themself...?
Arle: Ouch, ouch, ouch... Looks like that worked…
Satan: Arly! Are you okay?!
Ringo: The sheer force of that spell split Ecolo and Arle back into two heterogeneous[3] parts!
Ecolo: Uuurgh... Hey, what's the big idea? That's playing dirty, Arle…
Arle: What do you mean, "playing dirty"?! You're the one who started this whole mess!!
How dare you just take my body for a joyride like that, you little…
*complaincomplaincomplaincomplaincomplain*
Ringo: Well... With Arle raking them over the coals like that...
...even Ecolo is bound to regret what they pulled.
Satan: I...have to agree…
(I should take care never to end up in this position myself...)
One sextillionth (10^-21) of a second, the smallest unit of time ever measured.
Self-explanatory math reference.
"Heterogeneous" means consisting of elements that are not of the same kind or nature. In chemistry, the word is most often applied to a heterogeneous mixture. This is one which has a non-uniform composition.
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Writer ask game - 1, 6, and 32
Sorry for taking so long to reply to this, wonderful @hpeveryonelives! I’ve actually started a Tumblr hiatus, but I wanted to quickly answer before I good and proper delete the app. Thank you so much for asking though! They were so fun to answer.
1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?
I started reading fics as a wee bairn in around 2005. I started writing fanfic not long after that (2006 maybe?), but the first fic that I ever published publicly was made in mid-2007. I was then really into fanfic for about 2 years before taking a 12-year or so hiatus and returning last year.
6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction?
I go through stages! When I first returned to fanfic I was aware that the world had changed a lot since my days on MNFF and HPFF, so I just searched online for recommendations. I then found a lot through Reddit, though I quickly became disillusioned with that, and then I became fully committed to Ao3, so I would just search through the tags/filters/ships on there.
These days, however, I am quite a bit busier, so I rely mostly on Tumblr (after creating my page) and Discord. I am aware this makes me miss a lot of smaller fic writers though, so I am hoping to rectify this (and return to my Ao3 strategy) when life calms down a little.
32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?
This is a hard one, as I can be super critical of individual sentences after the fact, but here are a few from some recently published fics that I don’t entirely hate:
① Until the Tree Dies, Chapter 2:
The second rumour limped in on a Tuesday morning and haunted the castle for the rest of the day.
I like it because I think it encapsulates the combined disgust and ever so slight fear of Remus I imagine Snape having just several years after the prank.
② The Other Half of the Sky, Chapter 1:
Yet just as from time to time she saw the most exceptional sights in the rundown areas of this otherwise quaint coastal town, she often wondered if exceptional things might be possible from her very own brand of filth.
I’m not 100% satisfied with the composition of this sentence, but I do so very much love the meaning behind it for my protagonist. I think it embodies a lot of what her journey will be.
③ The Other Half of the Sky, Chapter 2:
Emmeline had the sort of handshake that made Lily think she would be rather good with horses.
This is nothing special, but it made me chuckle when writing because I felt people would just know what Emmeline was like from that one sentence. And I was right! @mabeltothknows commented pretty much saying exactly that.
Thank you so much again, lovely!
#fic writer asks#asks#still on my tumblr break but wanted to answer these asks before I do the big app delete
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Composition
Kiara's drawings of Lilian are usually done spur of the moment, from memory or in private, hidden away out of necessity.
Not this one.
Demon LiLi x Angel Kiara. Ineffable AU.
Kiarascuro was, first and foremost, an angel – stationed on Earth for millennia and a celestial being for eons before that.
But if she were to choose to be anything else, she would be an artist.
A brush felt more comfortable in her hands than a sword, though she had been crafted to wield a blade. She had healed many battle scars and wounds in her existence, but she kept the callouses that cushioned chisels.
And just as familiar to her as the tools of her trade were the lines of Lilian’s forms - could they be called lines? The term implied a certain hardness and rigidity, but those were not the words Kiara would use to describe the sinewy forms and movements that shaped her adversary.
Did Lilian know that she had been translated to every medium Kiara had ever practiced? Did she know that if archeologist dug far enough, they’d be baffled by cave drawings far more sophisticated than those crafted by their ancestors, painted by someone who could create paper and ink with a snap of her fingers but who itched to learn this bit of human ingenuity? Did she know that scholars would be confounded by the marble reliefs of Medusa’s twin, who lacked the serpentine tendrils but gazed haughtily at her audience with a single snake curled around her wrist?
Lilian had an inkling, though her estimate would be far off because it only counted the times she’d caught Kiara surreptitiously capturing the shapes of her pose – it would be low, because she didn’t know how long ago the angel had memorized the map of her face; the all-knowing gaze, the curl of her smirk, the jut of her chin.
Kiara had gotten bolder in the two years since Armageddon, no longer hiding the twitch of her hand when it itched for a pencil. Her art had gotten better, now that she was no longer forced to rely on memory to immortalize the gleam in Lilian’s sapphire eyes or the myriad of red threading through the demon’s hair.
Her fingers twitched now, caught in LiLi’s hand as they strode toward the Bentley and Kiara realized that for all her hidden works, none of them included the demon’s most prized possession. “Oh,” she breathed quietly, the potential forming easily in her mind.
“Forget something, angel?” her adversary teased, stopping alongside the blonde.
“More like trying to remember something,” the angel said as she pulled away to study the Bentley from another angle. “I’ve never drawn your car before.”
There was something … public about a drawing of the demon and her chariot, an openness that they had been denied for decades. It was outside, for all to see, no hiding behind the gallery’s four walls.
LiLi smirked. “Should I be jealous that my car is going to replace me as your muse?”
Kiara caressed the car, running her hand over the grill as if to commit the chrome texture to memory.
“Hmmmm? Oh, no, don’t be ridiculous, my dear – I’d include you in the painting as well,” she assured her before muttering under her breath. “Though how I’d pose you … Maybe with the door open, standing in the crux? No, no, too much focus on the Bentley. I believe, thinking about it, maybe leaning against the hood -”
She demonstrated, frowning slightly as she imagined the perspective.
“I can demonstrate,” Lilian suggested as the tether of their hands pulled apart.
The offer broke through the blonde’s concentration, her gray eyes wide. “My dear, no need to inconvenience yourself – I have plenty of practice, I can do it from imagination.”
The demon tutted, closing the distance between herself and the Bentley so she could perch where she imagined Kiara had envisioned. Her body bent, one leg outstretched as she positioned the other so her boot heel pressed against the fender and her torso slanted forward, her palms resting on the hood.
“Like this?” she asked.
The blonde’s lips parted slightly in rapt attention, her heart racing at the ease of Lilian’s pose.
“Could you – if you wouldn’t mind – put your hands in your pockets? But not fully, my dear, I can imagine you can’t fit them in entirely, with how tight those trousers are,” she coached, her hand flitting out to guide Lilian’s before she caught herself and the touch dropped away. “May I?”
The demon arched a brow in amusement. “You don’t even have to ask, angel.”
Kiara could feel her face flush at the easy assurance, an intimate phrase from a being so guarded. She lost herself in the process, her body tingling at their nearness.
(The final design was one of her favorites, Lilian’s fond and trusting gaze captured as she peered at Kiara over her glasses.)
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the habits of a broken heart.
☾ genre : soulmates au, unrequited love, art student!JK, english student!Y/N, angst, fluff, subtle enemies to lovers
☾ pairing : jeon jungkook x reader
☾ summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.
alternatively,
“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”
☾ word count: 26.3k (my biggest one yet!)
☾ author’s note: this took forever oh my gosh! i really hope you like it! it’s my first time writing such a big single piece, and trying a different style. thank you so much for your support, always! please let me know what you think ♡
The first time he had his heart broken, Jeon Jungkook had been 13 years old. He was fresh out of middle school and so ready to face his freshman year with an impressionable mind and plenty of voice cracks to earn him months worth of teasing. You see, at the age of 13, Jungkook wasn’t something to swoon over. He had yet to grow into his ears and Dr. Park assured him that his braces would be off as soon as she could get them. He was a little lanky and a bit too reticent to be considered social. So when a girl in his grade comes up to him, nervous and stuttering, and asks him to go to the heavily romanticized homecoming dance, Jungkook has already come to the conclusion that she might be his soulmate, even if he was far too young to get his mark yet.
Her name was Mina, and Jungkook is confronted with this memory every time he visits home and his mother makes the family flip through the photo albums dating back to his high school years. He grimaces every time he sees the picture of them together. Him in a pink button-up to match her offensively ugly ruffled taffeta dress.
Mina broke up with him three months after that picture was taken, through one of her friends no less and in front of his entire gym class. Jungkook couldn’t remember how long he cried for while he felt the pain from his first heartbreak would never go away, regardless of how much time passes. He held onto his mother and sobbed out the agony and humiliation of Mina not wanting to be his girlfriend anymore, and how he had lost his soulmate before he even knew it was her. His mother assured him that without the mark, there was no way to be sure and that there was hope. But back then, all Jungkook could think of was ways to avoid Mina the next day, especially when they sat next to each other in 3rd period biology.
At 13 years old, Jungkook thought he would never find love again.
He is 18 when he stands alongside his parents in a pale examination room and awaits his destiny. He’s leaving for college the next day, yet the only thing that’s making him nervous is the mark that will inevitably appear on his wrist in the next few minutes. The same one he would find on his soulmate’s, and Jungkook wonders if there is the possibility of scaring everyone away when the first thing he’ll ask on a date is: can I please see your wrist?
To say the least, Jungkook is petrified. Because that mark on his wrist is going to serve as a constant reminder of his missing piece, and Jungkook knows he’ll always feel lacking until he finds them.
It’s a crescent moon. Small and black and nestled comfortably on his skin. He knows many times the marks don’t have any correlation with the couples, but Jungkook wonders if you are an astrologist. Or an astronaut. Or just had a weird affinity for the moon. He smiles when they congratulate him and can’t stop himself from thinking that he might be in love with you already. Wherever you are. When he leaves for university, he feels less lonely when there is a crescent moon to accompany him.
Contrary to the beliefs of his 13-year old self, Jungkook does fall in love again. Hard. This time, it was a girl with brown hair and big eyes and a smile so pretty he could see it from across a crowded room. She was a grade below him; a frazzled college freshman with no clue to where her lecture hall was, and he: a sophomore who had a compulsion of changing his major every other month. When he met her, it had been chemical engineering and three weeks before that was film composition. Her name was Yoojung, 18 years old while he was 19.
Her soulmate mark is a single star, and even though he knows she is not his soulmate, he can’t help but to think how perfectly their marks complement each other. How they would make a perfect night sky.
They had met at a frat party, no less, and the combination of cheap booze and bad hiphop music had made her look so incredibly gorgeous under the dim lighting. They had their first kiss in a random person’s living room, highly intoxicated and much too irresponsible and Jungkook had barely even remembered it in the morning until she showed up at his doorstep and invited herself in. Yet it wasn’t too long before he made a perfect space for Yoojung in his life.
Each day after his physics lecture, he’d go to her dorm and they’d chat over breakfast until she had economics at 10 o’ clock. After she was done, he’d insist that they go get a greasy hamburger at the joint his friends took him to when they got high and, she’d end up dragging them both to the health food restaurant that prided themselves on only using organic. Leave it to Jungkook to find himself a vegan girlfriend.
Sometimes though, when he looks at Yoojung, his mind drifts to his actual soulmate and a little flower named guilt blooms in his chest. But he is so young and his other half could be anywhere in the world, so Jungkook thinks there is no harm in allowing himself to indulge in a little affection. These days, it wasn’t completely abnormal for soulmates to part ways, and when Yoojung is in his arms, Jungkook likes to think that his soulmate would understand. They would want him to be happy. In the middle of synchronizing their busy student schedules and sneaking in quick kisses through cramming for finals, he had found it unnervingly easy to fall in love with her.
Deeply and blindly in love.
Yoojung brought him home to her family on fall breaks and the occasional winter vacation and Jungkook had melded perfectly into their dynamic. The son I never had, her father would tell him over the dinner table while her mother constantly made sure his plate was piled high. Her little sister was visibly in love with him, and would ask Yoojung where he was every time she came home from university, yet avoiding him at all costs when he was there.
Jungkook’s own family, however, was a different story. To put it delicately, they had liked it more when he came home by himself and left her at school. It had put a strain on their relationship sure, but at the end of the day, Jungkook loved her. A simple love.
Every day he remembers that their marks do not match. But if this is love and he feels like he is on cloud 9 with every moment they are together, Jungkook begins to doubt if the universe’s will is truly divine and successful. Maybe Yoojung was his soulmate and it did not matter what was on their wrists.
He loved her intensely, and she did him. She was the first thing on his mind when he woke up and manifested in his dreams when he slept at night. To Jungkook, Yoojung could do no wrong. Like some sort of divine being or angel that the heavens sent just for him, and he found himself thinking maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life beside her.
But he would come to learn that the higher the climb...the harder the fall.
Jungkook and Yoojung were together for the better part of 4 years before she cheated on him with a guy that she’d supposedly met a couple weeks ago. When Jungkook screams at her asking why she had been disloyal, Yoojung shows him her wrist. Her single inked star.
“I found my soulmate, Jungkook. And I love you so much, you know I do. I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”
The rest of her words fade into white noise and all Jungkook can do is look at her and commit every detail to memory as he feels her fade farther away. Her teary and remorseful brown eyes. Her plush lips. The fan of her eyelashes and the mole on the side of her temple. He’ll never get to see her like this again.
“I was ready to be with you, soulmate or not. I know it’s not fair but I wanted the same from you”, he whispers, falling down on the couch and burying his face in his hands.
“Soulmates be damned, the universe was wrong. I was so hideously in love with you. How could you not at least tell me when you met him?” Jungkook feels his heart collapsing in on itself with every word of resignation. Of burgeoning acceptance. Yoojung can only mirror his desolate expression and stares down at the star on her skin.
Jungkook wishes it were a moon.
“Just go, Yoojung.”
It would have hurt less if it was only a one night stand with a stranger she did not know the name of. He was in love and spineless enough to move past a one night stand. However, Yoojung had found her soulmate and fallen in love with him. Jungkook had merely acted as a placeholder for the real deal to come along and sweep her off her feet.
This time he doesn’t cry. Just stares out the window of his living room and wonders what it would be like to disappear altogether. When the door is slammed shut, and he is left to nurse his aching soul, Jungkook apologizes in advance to the person that shares the same mark on their wrist as him. He no longer believes that soulmates exist.
When Jungkook looks back at his 13 year old self with the innocent construct of what heartbreak feels like, he wants to laugh and maybe slap that stupid boy upside the head. Yoojung had destroyed him. Destroyed the innocent and starry-eyed person that he’s tried so hard to preserve. Destroyed his vulnerability and bright outlook on life and in their place, cultivated walls of rock and steel meant to keep everyone out and him safely tucked inside. In her wake, Yoojung left behind a shell of a man who pushed his emotions so deep he became numb and forgot what it was like to feel.
So Jungkook does what he always does to push away the hurt. He changes his major; to art history this time. He stacks up bracelets on his wrist to forget the mark of a moon. He scrapes up his rainy day money and treats himself to the most expensive pair of Saint Laurent boots he’s ever worn. He tests the limits of the human liver, and takes advantage of the biceps and jawline he’s acquired since high school to establish a reputation.
To his friends, Jungkook remained raucous and always down to order infinite rounds of shots until he couldn’t see straight. To those that looked even closer, Jungkook was so completely shattered he didn’t even feel it anymore.
The second time he had his heart broken, Jungkook was 23. He promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen again.
◐
“For the last time, Jimin, I’m not going to give you a blowjob so you can pay for my student loans.”
You don’t know how many times you’ve had this conversation with your roommate. Most of the time, it was convenient to have a roommate whose parents were loaded and sent him monthly installments that looked more like small loans than allowances. You knew he just wanted to help. Heck, he probably would be willing to pay them off for you without the promiscuous favor, but you had made it clear to Jimin that you wouldn’t be riding off of his charity.
“Ugh, Y/N you’re really no fun”, he sighs, falling backwards onto your twin-sized bed and feigning devastation. You reward his melodrama with a giggle, ruffling your hands through his fried hair. Jimin had a knack for changing his hair color as quickly as his mood.
You look at the bill that’s staring back at you from your computer screen, and it feels like it’s just reached out and punched you in the face. “Hey do you think it’s a common mistake for bank tellers to add a few too many zeroes?”
“Y/N.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m rationalizing as a self-defense mechanism.” Sometimes it was annoying that your roommate had a degree in psychology. Then again, Jimin was making more money than you and your degree in English.
You sigh deeply and look up at the ceiling in attempts to quell your tears of frustration. And also because it is a plea to whoever is up there controlling your destiny: please I’m begging you. Melt my debt away.
You and Jimin sit in comfortable silence and he plays with the hem of your worn comforter while you scroll through the emails you have been ignoring in your inbox. You want to smash your head in at all the deadlines. Times like these, there is one thing that brings you comfort and always has since you turned 18.
The quaint little crescent moon that sits right atop your radius.
You had a habit of pressing your thumb against it and feeling your pulse against the mark, stupidly wondering if your soulmate’s heartbeat has synched up with your own. If he was out there somewhere, touching his mark and wondering the same about you. He was taking his sweet time, that’s for sure. Jimin sees your nervous tic and sighs again.
“You’re so hopelessly romantic it makes me want to barf, Y/N.” You scowl at his words and chuck a pillow at his unsuspecting face.
“I don’t understand you, Jimin. Your soulmate is out there and you’re not the slightest bit curious? You don’t want to do anything extra to find them?” Jimin looks at you with a knowing smile.
“That’s exactly it, though. I know they’re my soulmate and I’ll find them when the time is right. So why worry about it? It’s better not to force anything.” His statement is followed up with a grin and his fingers reach out to pinch your cheeks. This was the dynamic of your friendship. He is easy-going and flows like a careless river. You’ve read one too many books to not vie and daydream for the moment you lock eyes with your soulmate.
Your mom always said that you’ll know just from a look. It’s like getting hit over the head with a ray of sun, she said. Like suddenly their eyes are the only eyes you ever want to look into again. Since then, you’ve dreamt for the day you find someone with that same moon on their wrist. For now though, you had more immediate concerns more along the lines of crippling debt.
“What do I do, Jimin? Should I be a stripper?” He laughs and the thought makes you groan. You couldn’t even walk in heels, much less try to dance or look like you didn’t have two left feet. Stripper life just wasn’t for you.
“Hm...I could call in a few favors for you at the office. Get you an internship or secretary position.”
“Maybe. Too much nepotism. Your father owns the office you work at”, you remind him, and his eyebrows crease further in thought. God, maybe you do have to be a stripper.
“Wait!” Jimin yelps so suddenly you almost fling the computer off your lap.
“I think I know someone. He’s been looking for a model for his art portfolio or something, and he said he’s willing to pay.” Jimin reaches for his phone and his thumbs type up a storm while you watch from the sideline.
“I think he mentioned it’s about a month-long project. You’d just have to be on call whenever a stroke of genius arrives.”
“That sounds great! I’m an amazing model!” you crow, to which Jimin giggles again.
“The several candids I have in my camera roll tell a different story, Y/N.” Naturally, he receives another pillow to the face. But you follow up with a cheery kiss to his cheek as you rejoice in the new opportunity for cash flow by a celebratory dance, which looks more like a wiggle when you remain seated on your bed.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, you chirped, “I owe you one.”
“Hey...I know how you can repay me.”
When you look towards him, his eyebrows are raised inquisitively and there’s a devilish smirk on his lips.
Jimin gets a third pillow to his face that day.
◓
Jungkook’s favorite type of arguments to get into is whether Neo-classicism or post-impressionism had the most impact on European art and architecture. Call him a snob, but he loves to prattle on about Degas and Caillebotte until his opponent tires or concedes out of pure exhaustion. Jungkook regards it as a battle strategy: bore your enemy so that they stop fighting.
He’s in the middle of a heated debate with his classmate from graduate school when he receives a phone call from Park Jimin. Now, Jungkook has no idea how or when Jimin became an installment in his life, or how he’s roped his way into his inner circle. He just remembers waking up one day with a killer hangover and finding that there was a pink-haired stranger lying on his floor. When he tried to shoo him out, the stranger shoved a wad of money in his shirt pocket, muttering “just five more minutes”, and Jungkook was in no position to deny easy cash. Jungkook now considers Jimin one of his close friends.
“What’s up, Jiminie?” He laughs into the microphone.
“I told you not to call me that, you brat. I’m older than you.”
“I’m taller than you.”
“My dick is bigger.”
“I-okay fine you got me there.” He hears Jimin wheeze over the line as he tries to rein himself in to say what he needs to say.
“In all seriousness, though. I have a proposition for you.” Jimin lilts in a mischievous tone, which makes Jungkook nervous enough to get up from the café table he had been sitting at with his friend and careen to a quieter corner.
“Shoot.”
“Okay, so you know how you were telling me about your portfolio for the gallery. The one you have to submit by the end of the season? How you needed a model on call 24/7 in case inspiration struck?”
Jungkook wants him to spit it out because he has been searching high mountains and low valleys for someone that would be willing to be his muse for a month or two. Constantly at his beck and call so he can finish this damn portfolio and get his name out there in the art world. Maybe start debating post-impressionism with the cream of the crop.
“I think I’ve found someone to do that for you.” Jungkook exhales in relief at his words.
“She’s my roommate and she’s super low on cash and unemployed with a bachelor’s in English literature, so she’s got time to spare.” Perfect. That way, Jungkook can call her whenever he needs to.
“That’s amazing, Jiminie. Can she meet me at the art building tomorrow at noon? We can start right away.” Jungkook breathes through the phone, a small weight coming off his shoulders now that another thing had been accomplished. One less thing he had to worry about on the journey to his goal. Jimin confirms the plans and they exchange pleasantries before Jungkook hangs up as the man on the other line starts screaming about his burning lunch on the stove.
Jungkook catches sight of the mark on his wrist when he looks down, and quickly rearranges his bracelets so that it is once again covered to his eyes. Out of sight and out of mind.
The gallery portfolio had been a thorn in his side. It had been months in the making and if he allows himself to reminisce, Jungkook remembers the nights he and Yoojung stayed up until dawn and talked about his blossoming interest in art. How he wanted a space of his own to display his works. Back then, she listened to him with stars in her eyes and basked in the afterglow of post-coital cuddling, promising that she would help him achieve it.
His heart sinks at the memory of the imprint of her tresses of hair spilling on his bedspread. He burned those sheets the second she left.
Jungkook represses his intrusive thoughts about Yoojung and wills her to get out of his head. He forces it down until it feels like he’s just dumped ice water over his heart and vomited out any semblance of emotion. He makes his way back to the cafe table with a sly smile that hides the internal ache he’s promised himself to never let anyone suspect of.
“So what were you saying about Renoir’s Moulin de la Galette?”
◑
The art building is situated besides a library, with a bakery flanking its left. Two years spent at the university, and you’ve never once stepped foot there. Maybe it was the daunting abstract sculpture on the front lawn or the prejudices you held against annoying art snobs on their high horses, but you often found yourself subconsciously avoiding the space in intimidation.
“Okay, Y/N, you’re going to do this so you can pay off your loans”, you whisper under your breath, words meant for your ears and no one else’s. “And if he asks you to pose nude, you run the opposite direction.”
It was easy to get lost in the building. For art students that know how to draw, they really took advantage of abstractionism to make the most confusing map you had ever seen in your life. Luckily, with some direction from the vapid front desk secretary and some intuition, you were able to to find room 62B. You don’t think you’ll be able to forget the number 62B if you tried, Jimin had screamed it to you so many times as you left the apartment.
The door soundlessly opens with a nudge of your hand and you stick your head inside.
“You know when Jimin told me he found me a model, he didn’t mention her lack of punctuality.” His voice is calm and subdued with no lingering annoyance, even if his words are uncourteous. You whip around to him and the first sight you see of Jeon Jungkook is merely a tuft of brown hair behind a vast canvas. And some expensive looking leather boots that anchor his feet to the ground.
You clear your throat and approach with an outstretched hand and the shiniest smile you can muster.
“I’m Y/N. Jimin’s roommate. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You can call me Jungkook.”
It is when he steps out from behind the canvas that you finally understand what your mother meant when she said meeting your soulmate feels like getting hit over the head with a ray of sunshine. You can’t describe it any other way, but that’s exactly what it feels like. Like the air becomes so sweet in your lungs it turns to viscous honey. Like suddenly the person standing in front of you is Valentine, encapsulated.
You know he feels it too, yet you don’t know why he forces himself to remain blasé, and if you hadn’t seen his widened eyes and heard the gasp from his lips you would have never suspected anything at all. Stranger courtesy is abandoned and you forcefully grab his wrist, turning it over to find his mark while pulling up your sleeve to reveal your own.
A little black crescent moon.
Right on the pulse point.
Just like your’s.
When you finally muster up the nerve to look into his eyes again, you wonder if it is healthy for the human heart to beat so fast and so thunderously it feels ready to jump out of your chest. Jungkook, however, still wears that same expression on his face. Flat and cold, not even a glimmer in his eyes. He stares at you disinterested and wrenches his wrist from your grasp.
“Wait, Jungkook...aren’t you….”, you sputter through a desperate smile, “aren’t you happy?” He stays silent and trains his attention on the canvas in front of him, but you can see the conflict that swirls in his iris.
“I’ve been looking for you for so long! And I’ve finally found you. In the art building no less, just my luck that-”
“Y/N, I don’t know what you expect from me but I’m not looking for anything right now.”
There were no objectively ugly words. But you think the ones that have just spewed from Jungkook’s lips come pretty close. They stoke a fire in your chest.
“What do you mean? We’re soulmates”, you faltered, sinking deeper into confusion as you stare at the unaffected man in front of you, whose only concern is the conglomerate of paint on his palette.
Jungkook sighs monotonously. Almost as if he had better things to do than be here.
“It’s only a mark on your wrist. And we just happen to have the same one. Amazing that you still think somehow one single person was made entirely just for you.” His words are bored and he doesn’t even have the decency to look you in the eye when he speaks. You think you might want to punch him if you weren’t so speechless.
“Look”, he sighs as if you were inconveniencing him, “I’m not going to sugarcoat it and tell you that I’m the one you’ve been looking for this whole time. We have the same mark, but...I’m not the guy you want.”
“B-But...I’m your soulmate. We-we’re made for each other.”
Jungkook scoffs harshly, and you want to sink into the ground. “That’s just a silly myth.”
“So you don’t...believe in soulmates?” The words felt wrong to say when all your life, finding your soulmate felt like the ribbon at the end of the finish line. But here he was now, and you felt so small under his gaze. Like you weren’t meant to be there and standing in the same room with him was a concoction for heartbreak.
“No.”
Jungkook’s syllable pangs in your ear, and you think it might be your least favorite sound. Then you leave. And if it was hard for you to meet your soulmate - the person who you’re destined to be with - who doesn’t believe in you, then walking away from him was a different cross to bear.
You take the bus home and ignore the glare of strangers when you burst into tears at a red light, and cry the rest of the way back. Your mother hadn’t described this. She prosed on and on about the feeling one gets after finding a soulmate but never mentioned to you how it feels when you find out they want nothing to do with you. What do you do when you realize the person you’ve been chasing for forever has been trying to run away at the same time?
Jimin holds you together that night on your bedroom floor, while you break apart and scratch at the moon on your wrist until your skin breaks. He listens to the words you sputter; as much as he can decipher when they are drowned out by the painful sound of your sobbing. Jungkook’s beliefs bleed into your consciousness. Perhaps he is right and perhaps there is no such thing as true soulmates, and the marks are obsolete.
However, when you fall asleep in your friend’s arms from the physical fatigue of violent crying and the sheer mental exhaustion of meeting Jeon Jungkook, your mind comes to a more painful conclusion.
A more truthful conclusion.
Your soulmate only needed to meet you to decide that he did not want you.
◒
Jungkook doesn’t believe in soulmates. He thinks they’re a stupid coy to give people false hope. An illusion to feign happiness and to take Yoojung away from someone she genuinely loved. Though in the hours of the night, when he is by himself and the bed feels too big for one body, Jungkook wonders if there is truly a reason why someone has an identical moon on their wrist. But he is still so broken and unhealed from the wounds Yoojung left behind.
So instead of soulmates, he thinks about what she must be doing. If she’s eating well. If she’s moved in with her own soulmate and if they’re happy together. Jungkook is an involuntary masochist and he pays for it with every pillowcase that becomes stained with his tears.
He sighs out an expletive after downing a shot of whiskey, relishing in the familiar burn as it slides down his throat. Alcohol doesn’t seem to be working efficiently, though. He’s only barely tipsy after years in college building tolerance, and he can still see your face each time he blinks. Like you are imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Jungkook wonders why Jimin had cancelled on the group tonight.
There is a little devil called remorse and it stands atop his shoulder, unseen by everyone but him, and Jungkook decides he will get rid of it by calling another round of shots. From his seat in the dirty booth, he can see Min Yoongi and his soulmate practically dry humping on the dance floor. If anyone asks him if he ever gets jealous seeing soulmates happy and in love, he’ll laugh in their face and tell them he pities people like that. People that are so blinded by the system. But loneliness is a stern mistress and it makes him think of you. How lovely the moon looks on your wrist. How your hand felt so warm when it caressed against his skin.
He tips his head back again. Vodka this time.
“Dude, are you okay?”
To his right comes Kim Taehyung, designated driver extraordinaire, and he looks at Jungkook with friendly concern laced with amusement. Jungkook nods contentedly.
“Soulmates are so bullshit, Tae”, he snickers, fingers tracing the rim of the shot glass and smirk on his face to mask the bitterness of both the alcohol and his heart. Taehyung spares a knowing glance, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder with the weight of knowledge of Jungkook’s past.
The night is young and so is he. He drinks until he can no longer taste the liquor and forgets altogether about what had happened only a couple of hours before. Until the crescent mark on his skin just looks like a shapeless black blob, and it makes him smile. He thinks he likes it better that way.
Taehyung drops him home and personally tucks him into bed while he is still in jeans and his shirt smells like the bar. His sleep is dreamless that night. When the morning comes and his friends tease him about how he begged Taehyung not to leave, Jungkook will laugh and blame the alcohol for his foggy memory. He won’t tell them that he does remember, and that he was only grasping at any warm body to soothe his aching loneliness.
◐
Usually when he first opens his eyes in the morning, Jungkook is thinking about the next class he has to attend and if he is late (which is usually most of the time). This morning, albeit morbidly hungover, Jungkook thinks of the apple strudels they sell at the bakery next to the art building. Mrs. Kim always gets the pastry to filling ratio just right. But when he opens the door with a jubilant smile on his face and the scent of baked goods already in his nostrils, Jungkook has a feeling apple strudels will have to wait.
There you are. In all your messy-haired glory, huffing like a caged bull in the doorway of his apartment, fiery gaze directed completely at him and all he can think to say is:
“How do you know where I live?” Jungkook schools his face expressionless in your presence. He hopes this will discourage you, but it only makes you angrier.
“Park Jimin”, you snarl.
Of fucking course, it’s always Park Jimin. Jimin who drunkenly sleeps in his bedroom and now Jimin who is leaking his address to any stranger.
“Um”, Jungkook stammers and takes a step back, “what are you doing here? Didn’t I get my point through yesterday?” He can see the statement catching you off guard, and the fury in your eyes dwindles to dejection. Only for a millisecond though, before you are aiming your wrath at him once again.
You take a deep breath. “What is wrong with you?”
Jungkook can think of a lot of answers to that query. He opts to interpret it as a rhetorical question and keep his mouth shut.
“You just...found your soulmate! I’m your soulmate! And you don’t even want to get to know me? At all?”, you scream exasperatedly. Jungkook catches the gaze of a middle aged lady who is not-so-discreetly staring at the two of you, and pulls you inside his apartment by your arm. If you weren’t so frustrated, you would have been flustered at the physical contact.
“Listen. Soulmates don’t end up together all the time. I’ve told you I’m not really interested in anything right now and it’s not a priority”, he takes a breath through his passionate monologue, “and I’m sorry that that’s not something you expected, but I….don’t want a soulmate.”
Maybe...he just doesn’t want you.
When he says them out loud to a living breathing person, Jungkook realizes how cruel it sounds. He can see it in the way your eyes have become glossy under his living room lights and the way you shrink into yourself as self-defense against his blows. He rationalizes that he’d rather tell you the truth than lie to you now, only to hurt you later. Really, he’s doing you a kindness. Right?
You turn your back to him to gather your thoughts, and wipe the tears that you refuse to let him see. The salty drops sting the raw skin of your wrist after last night, and you are brutally reminded of the current reality. His brutal honesty makes you want to abandon all hope, but you were a woman with a plan. You came here for a reason, not to just lose your temper in your soulmate’s apartment and tell him what you really thought about him.
“I have a proposition for you”, you asserted calmly, staring Jungkook in the eye as he remains unbothered.
“Now I reckon something’s happened to you to make you lose all your faith in soulmates, so I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Your eyebrows furrow when you speak focusedly.
“We don’t have to be together. That’s your will. But…”, you hesitate, pushing past the uncertainty and fear of another rejection from Jungkook, “will you let me at least try? You don’t have to promise anything. Can we just start as friends?”
Naturally, Jungkook wants to shoot down your offer, kick you out of his apartment, and pretend like he never met anyone by the name of Y/N. Call it divine intervention but when he looks at you, pleading for any semblance of connection, he feels a tug at his heart strings. So Jungkook makes another promise to himself. He would let you “try”, whatever that entails. But there was no virtual possibility of letting you any closer than necessary.
You both stand in contemplative silence before he lets out a resigned sigh. “On one condition”, he responds slowly, but there is already a premature grin growing on your face and you don’t think you could stop it even if you tried.
“You still have to be my model for the art portfolio.”
You agree before he even gets to take another breath.
“Deal.”
When you finally make your way out of Jungkook’s apartment, parting ways with an awkward number exchange and a ‘see you later’, there is a simultaneous feeling of hope and desolation. The optimism for Jungkook combines with the insecurity that perhaps you, just as you are, is not nearly enough to make someone fall in love. Especially someone who disregards their soul connection to you.
You walk back to your apartment with a heavy heart that warms with embers of determination. Jeon Jungkook was an enigma. A Bastille fortress of self-defense mechanisms and destructive tendencies, and you know that there is unresolved pain. Call it a soulmate instinct or something, but you see it in his eyes. You see it in the way his face begs to show emotion but his mind refuses to acknowledge.
You know Jungkook is not obligated to accept you after the dust settles, much less fall in love with you. Under the peach blossoms of the campus sidewalk, you make a promise anyway. To yourself and to your soulmate and the silly little mark on the inside of your wrist. Even if he does not love you, you vow to help Jungkook learn to love himself.
◓
When you are harshly woken up at 5:30 in the morning, the last person you expected to be blowing up your phone was Jeon Jungkook. If it weren’t for the pure exhaustion seeping through your bones, you would have been excited about your soulmate calling you. Alas, slumber was your soulmate now. Jungkook would have to step down.
On the other side of the paper thin wall, Jimin is frustratedly banging from his room, your ringtone reverberating throughout the entire apartment. You pick up his call without even opening your eyes.
“Hello?”
“Y/N I need you to come to my apartment as soon as you can.” There is no sleepiness in his voice. Just clean and cold like it always is and he has hung up before you get the chance to scold him for waking you up at this unholy hour. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind but you remember he is paying you very handsomely for your efforts, and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to call an uber. Thank god he doesn’t live too far away otherwise you’ll stick a foot through his canvas for the transportation bill.
The front of Jungkook’s apartment door is strangely therapeutic, and you find yourself falling asleep standing up after you’ve rung the doorbell. Either time passes too slowly when you are sleep-drunk or Jungkook moves to get the door as quickly as your grandfather does. Whatever the case, you are about to pass out on his doorstep if he doesn’t come soon.
“Y/N, why are you just standing there? The door has been open.”
“Jungkook. Why are you making me do this so early?”, you yawn, pushing inside the apartment.
Jungkook takes in your discombobulated appearance, and almost wants to laugh. You were still in your pajamas, and the bun on your head now looked more like a heaping blob that drooped down your temple. It was obvious that you had just rolled out of bed and he almost feels bad for disturbing your sleep, but he does not decide when his strokes of inspiration spontaneously appear.
The living room is bombarded with Jungkook’s art supplies and stray canvases, and you take note of the clay sculpting table that blends in as furniture next to his kitchen. You plop yourself down on the stool across from Jungkook’s easel, eyes still half closed and impossibly tired.
In this moment, Jungkook wipes the fact that you are his soulmate from his mind. He needs to do the portfolio. That is all he’s keeping you around for, and the only reason he agreed to your plan was so that you would remain his art model.
In the silence of his makeshift art studio, Jungkook paints whatever comes to his mind, referencing your figure on the stool for the curves he can never get right without a model and need for a human presence to translate onto his canvas. You become more lucid as time goes by and the sun starts to rise from outside his window, sitting up straighter and paying more attention to his concentrated face as Jungkook pours himself into his creation.
Looking at him in this light, you realize that he is beautiful. And not just because he’s your soulmate. Jungkook’s hair is scruffy and stubbled, undereyes sporting impressive dark circles. But the way he caresses the paintbrush and the way his body moves to the beat of the painting is poetic. He glances at you sporadically, eyes darting to and fro to capture as much as he can before the creativity burns out. He is beautiful and it makes your heart ache to know that he does not want you. In spite of the bond the universe has created.
You wonder if in his focused hazed, he notices the new glaze across your eyes and the silent sound of your soul calling out for his. You wipe away the first dripping tear as quickly as it came. You know Jungkook sees, but does not bat an eye and you can’t tell if you’d rather prefer him to acknowledge it.
It’s 8:00am when he puts the paintbrush down, takes a step back, and surveys his work. His eyes trail over each organic line and areas where he decided to use burnishing instead of cross hatching. It’s far from perfect, but it’s enough.
“Okay. You’re free to go”, he announces, plucking the painting off the easel and resting it against the wall, hidden from your eyes.
“W-What? That’s it?”, you sigh disappointedly, “you’re not even going to let me see it?” Jungkook shrugs. His detachedness makes you want to rip your hair out and sob into your pillow at the same time. You don’t understand how a person could be so unfazed.
“S’not ready for debut. Thanks for showing up, though.” He doesn’t spare you another glance. Just goes back to cleaning his brushes and dumping out the glasses of murky paint water. You ignore the twinge of hurt in your chest and slide off the stool.
“Okay, fine. Now it’s my turn. Would you like to go have some breakfast?”, you smile expectantly to Jungkook, who stares at you with an indifferent gaze. His first instinct is to make up a half-assed excuse to get out of this, eager to detach himself from you as much as possible and avoid any more interaction. However, he was insanely hungry, and the glimmer in your eye just looks so hopeful even Jungkook couldn’t bear to shoot you down.
He sighs with resignation. A little breakfast couldn’t hurt, and he wasn’t going with you necessarily. You were just...going to the same cafe in the same direction as him and likely sitting at the same table. Yeah, that’s it.
“Hurry up, I’m hungry.”
“Wait...actually?”
You blinked in shock at his lack of resistance.
“Yes. Now come on. I know a place with really great apple strudels.”
You weren’t aware that by ‘breakfast’, Jungkook actually meant sitting in complete silence and wolfing down food like your life depends on it. You want to be grossed out when he inhales 3 apple strudels in less than 10 minutes, crumbs flaking on his shirt without a care in the world. Yet you just feel endeared. The sight makes you smile. And maybe if Jungkook did not detest you, you would have leaned over and kissed the cinnamon sugar right off his lips.
“So….”, you sip on a sweet coffee, “Jimin told me you’re going for a masters in art history?”
Jungkook nods halfway through a bite of his pastry. “Yup.”
“Is it something you’re really passionate about?” you inquire, desperately wanting the conversation to delve into something that wasn’t so surface level.
“Uh huh.”
“What are some other things you’re interested in besides art?”
“Totally.”
Jungkook is completely clueless. He only spares glances to the windows and occasional looks to his oh so precious breakfast treats. You want to slap him and be angry, but you only sigh. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk to your soulmate, yet it felt like trying to pull teeth when he was so completely disinterested in you. You wonder if this is worth it.
You look up at him from your steaming cappuccino cup and use your wildcard.
“In my opinion, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus did little for the Italian Renaissance movement.”
Your statement almost has Jungkook falling backwards in his chair and choking on a piece of fruit filling, eyes growing as wide as saucers when he finally processes what you just said. A flaming insult to the entire art historian community.
“What do you know about Botticelli?”, he sneers, and you internally celebrate for this is the most emotion Jungkook has shown since meeting you.
“I know that his work supposedly epitomizes the spirit of the Renaissance”, you swirl the coffee in your cup nonchalantly, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “But if you ask me, Bellini’s San Giobbe Altarpiece did much more to encapsulate the values of 15th century Italy.”
Jungkook’s speechless expression is one that you want to take a snapshot of and frame it to your wall. It is glorious, and arguably more artful to you than Botticelli himself. So what, you had conveniently forgot to mention to him about the class you took junior year of college, with a professor that made you engrave the fundamentals of Italian painting in your brain. It’s so much more gratifying to see him stunned silent.
Across the table from you, Jungkook feels a warm smile itching to display itself. Before it can appear, he disguises it as a cold smirk. He feels something akin to a butterfly at the pit of his stomach, but blames it on indigestion and the inhuman pace at which he devoured his breakfast. Yeah that must be it. There was no way he was feeling butterflies.
He cracks his knuckles, raises his cup to gulp down a lukewarm green tea, and rests his elbows on the table separating the both of you.
“I don’t suppose you could tell me your thoughts on the influences of neo-classicism in the 18th century?”
◑
“No, Y/N, turn to your left a little”, Jungkook frustratedly sighs behind the camera lens.
“Your left or my left?”
He pauses. “....left.”
To any outside eye, you and Jungkook look like two buffoons trying to take pictures on what might possibly be the windiest day of the season, under the peach blossom trees. Jungkook had called you earlier that day and stressed about how he needed mixed media in his beloved portfolio, and photographs were the next topic of interest. Though you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just set out a fruit bowl on his windowsill and call it still life photography.
Jungkook stares down at his camera, dissatisfaction clear on his face. You almost want to apologize for your abhorrent modeling skills but hey, he was the one that chose you.
“Hmm...try staring at that boat in the distance”, he dictates, standing beside you and aiming the lens at your side profile. You do as he asks, but don’t hear the shutter of the camera. Jungkook sighs again and leans forward, so close you could feel his warm breath hitting your skin. You hope he doesn’t notice the beet blush on your cheeks.
Jungkook’s hands meet your chin when he uses it to slightly tilt your face downwards. He positions you in the way that he wants you to pose and you finally understand why photography is considered an art. Because it’s almost as if Jungkook is molding you like clay, to get the silhouette he wants to capture with his camera lens. The day is brisk, but his skin on your’s lights you on fire.
“Okay, that’s…..that’s perfect”, Jungkook breathes, hurriedly picking up the camera that had been hanging onto his neck by the strap and angling it. At the moment his index finger presses down on the button, there is a gust of wind that surrounds the both of you.
The breeze loosens a strand of your hair and it falls into your eyes. You let your eyes drift close for a second, smiling into the cold air that tingles on your skin. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and he thanks the skies for the howling wind so you wouldn’t be able to hear his thumping heartbeat. But surely it’s only because it’s cold. And absolutely nothing else. Jungkook coughs inconspicuously to snap himself out of his trance, sighing in relief when he realizes your eyes are still closed and that you hadn’t noticed his internal struggle.
He drags you to a bridge next and makes you lay on the cold wood to which you vehemently object before you remember that he’s paying you and that you want him to fall in love with you, not dislike you more than he already does. After the bridge, Jungkook makes you kneel beside the park pond and dip your hand in the icy water and you find yourself wanting to do the same thing to his precious camera.
Before the two of you have realized, the sun sets into the horizon and tinges the sky in a combination of purples and pinks that Jungkook himself has a hard time replicating on canvas. He aims his lens at the clouds and takes a picture that he knows won’t make it into his gallery. He just felt the need to have something to remember this day by. For no reason in particular…
A buzzing coming from your coat pocket alerts you both of the time that has passed and how the sky has considerably darkened since you began the session. When you fish your phone out, Jimin’s contact photo is staring back at you while the marimba ringtone continues playing. You put the phone on speaker.
“Hey Jiminie”, you smile and Jungkook catches a glance of it. And the discomfort in his chest is definitely, 100%, not jealousy. Not at all.
“I told you not to call me that! What is with you younger people and your disrespect for the elderly?” The corner of Jungkook’s lips twitch into a subtle smile at the similarity of your’s and his conversations with Jimin.
“Okay, okay, grandpa. What’s up?”
“Can you come home ASAP? I may or may not have broken the stove trying to make soup.”
The redundancy of his confession makes you sigh, as Park Jimin desecrating your shared kitchen space was not a rare occurrence by any means.
“I’ll be right there”, you chided through the line, “please do not cook anything else before I arrive.”
“Thanks Y/N-ie, you’re the best!” Jimin’s voice is far too cheery and you make a mental note to nag him a little extra when you get home. The phone call is ended promptly and you turn around to Jungkook, eyes widening in surprise when he has already packed up all his photography gear. The sky had turned dark and the streetlights had been turned on to illuminate the park. If you had craned your neck upwards, you would have noticed the stars that awoke again to shine down upon the city. But you didn’t. You only saw the stars that were twinkling in Jungkook’s eyes.
“Uh”, he stammers, “I’ll walk you home. It’s late.”
“Oh! Uh...Thanks.” Though he was still cold and indifferent, your heart jumped in elation. Perhaps this could be considered baby steps.
The trip home is quiet, only the sounds of your tandem footsteps on pavement and the rustle of a breeze through tree leaves fill the space of silence. But the quiet is not uncomfortable. Just a bit awkward as you two try to figure out how to be around one another. Jungkook’s hands are shoved in his pockets and your fingers itch to intertwine themselves around his own. To press your soulmate marks together and feel them calling out to each other. But you and Jungkook are anything but normal soulmates. For you are already head over heels in love with him and he is adamant on not sparing you a crumb of affection.
To your disdain, the apartment was closer than you thought and the short walk with Jungkook ended before it really even began. You could practically hear Jimin’s impatience emanating from the third story of the building.
“So I’ll see you later?”, you smile meekly. Jungkook readjusts the strap of his camera bag before nodding. He is walking away before you turn around to enter the apartment building and even though it was something small and mundane, you wished he would have waited to see you get in safely. You make your way inside, more downcast than you had been before.
You don’t see when Jungkook turns around. You don’t feel the reassurance that washes over him when the door shuts safely behind you.
That night, Jungkook is reminded far too much of Yoojung. When he goes to make his usual chamomile, he finds her mug at the very back of the tea cabinet. She must have forgotten it when she packed up her stuff. When he spoons in the sugar, he remembers how Yoojung drinks her tea with honey instead. And when he feels himself start to fall apart, he remembers how Yoojung is not there to keep him together.
Jungkook pushes away his pain, abandons the lukewarm mug of tea, and opts for an early bedtime to sleep away the ache. The camera sitting on his nightstand, though, beckons him to look over the photos you both had taken that afternoon.
In the moment, he had been dissatisfied with the pictures, always thinking there must be a better angle or a better position you could shift into. However when he looks down at his camera now, in the quiet and solemnity of his bedroom, Jungkook can’t help but to think they are absolutely perfect.
He doesn’t know whether to credit his own artistic skill or you; for breathing life into his photographs. It’s the lines of your hands, the slope of your nose, and the stray strands of your hair that makes his pictures more human.
The ones he ends up picking though, are not perfectly staged and not the ones where he made you change the position of your stance for 10 minutes. No, the best pictures were the ones he took without you noticing. When you had just been enjoying the cool breeze or admiring the beauty of peach blossom season. When you point out a cool looking bird and when you stared annoyedly past the cameras lens (at him no doubt).
Yoojung is gone from his mind for just a tiny fleeting moment. For little reason at all, Jungkook finds himself smiling. And there is only the company of the moon to see it.
◒
It is ten o’ clock in the morning and Jungkook comes to a realization that in the couple weeks since he has met you, he has sighed more times than he has in the past 23 years of life. Jungkook sighs when you text him first thing in the morning about the dream you had the night before and describe it in painfully vivid details. He leaves them unanswered. Sometimes he wished you would just email him the google document instead. He sighs when you fidget in your seat when he’s trying to paint and keep focus, but you are only interested in asking him the snacks he has in his fridge or when he’s going to finish. He sighs when you and Jimin collectively trash his art studio by spamming his $1,000 camera with ugly face pictures and sword fighting with his sable paint brushes. Jungkook often has a hard time believing that both of you are in graduate school.
Today, he sighs when you bombard into room 62B of the art building; what is supposed to be Jungkook’s completely zen and peaceful creative space. You are tiptoeing around him as you always do, scared that you’ll do something to set him off and your soulmate will disown you for good. He glances at you once, eyes quickly darting back to the sculpture he is molding on the clay table and saying nothing.
“There’s a new cafe that just opened right across from the apple strudel place”, you gulp tensely. “I was gonna go check out the competition.” Your words seem deaf to Jungkook’s ear and he only furrows his eyebrows, fingers fussing over the mass of clay. There was just something he couldn’t get right. He didn’t know what it was.
Jungkook pushes away the sculpture frustratedly, wipes his hands on his apron, and finally looks at you. Maybe he did need a break and come back to it with fresh eyes. That’s all it was, though. A break. He wasn’t going because you asked him to.
“They better have blonde roast otherwise you’ll be compensating me for my time.” Jungkook is as ruthless and blunt as ever and you decide to look past it as you always do. Him agreeing to go with you was a mini success.
“Welcome in! You’ve stopped by at the perfect time. The strawberry scones have just been taken out of the oven!” The cafe employee is far too enthusiastic for receiving minimum wage and greeting grumpy people off the streets who just want to be caffeinated. His name tag reads Jung Hoseok.
“Oh, strawberry is my favorite”, you whisper, the statement only meant for your ears but Jungkook picks up on it anyway. He declines to tell you that strawberry is his favorite as well. Hoseok’s eyes light up when you and Jungkook approach the entrance, like he finally succeeded at luring a customer.
The cafe isn’t anything special. A bit more modern compared to the one across the street and you think you prefer the latter because this new one doesn’t have the owner’s handsome son standing at the cash register. He may not be your soulmate, but even you had to admit Kim Seokjin was a beautiful man if there ever was one. However, this cafe is warm and has ceiling length windows that let in an obscene amount of sunlight. Jungkook makes a mental note to try some pictures here in the future.
Jungkook’s phone buzzes in his pocket and you are already leaving him behind in the dust, walking straight to the counter and peering up at the menu deep in thought. You turn around to see that he is immersed in mysterious conversation, and take it upon yourself to order him a drink.
“I’ll have a matcha latte. And uh…”, you decide, trailing off as you wonder what kind of drink Jungkook would enjoy. “And an iced vanilla mocha latte, extra whipped cream, extra chocolate syrup. Do you guys have rainbow sprinkles?”
A little sugar never hurt anyone. Especially someone so often bitter like your one and only soulmate.
When Jungkook hangs up and makes his way to the corner table where you are situated, the sight of the concoction on the table is enough to give him an instant cavity. You hide your smile behind the mug of matcha. He grumbles and sits down swiftly, sticking the straw past his lips in defiance and you can only watch expectantly.
“Well…do you like it?”
This is when Jungkook realizes you didn’t order this to spite him. You just had completely zero idea what he liked and disliked and chose the first thing you thought was best. As cold as he is, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that when he drinks coffee, he likes it black. No cream, no sugar, and the darkest roast with the most caffeine to push him through those nights spent in front of a canvas or over a clay table.
Jungkook fights to keep steady from the ambush of sugar and wills himself to swallow it down. There is sticky chocolate syrup on his hands and it feels cosmically more uncomfortable than paint. But Jungkook manages to look up at you and nod, to which you reward with a smile.
“I knew you would like it”, you say smugly, giving yourself a mental pat on the back. “You look like you have a giant sweet tooth.” There is a mellow giggle that follows your statement. Jungkook feels a flutter at the bottom of his stomach, and convinces himself it’s only because it sounds so much like Yoojung. He catches sight of the moon on your wrist, and pushes the feeling away even farther.
The two of you spend the rest of the midday there, tucked away in a corner of a cafe and losing track of time as you always do. Jungkook finds himself forgetting about the mountains of work he has to do to finish his art gallery portfolio, and the unfinished sculpture back at the studio that’s just not right.
Today, he allows himself to enjoy your presence and get to know you more. Your favorite color is yellow. You had a dog named Benny when you were a child. You detest beer with a passion, but enjoy a nightly glass of pinot grigio. Jungkook barely notices when the entire cup of coffee has disappeared. Every last rainbow sprinkle.
On second thought, he feels that maybe there was something sweeter than his unexpectedly delicious iced vanilla mocha latte with extra whipped cream. Maybe that something was sitting right across from him, rambling about the fundamentals of English literature with unexplained vigor.
Jungkook’s soul feels lighter when he goes to bed that night. And when he finally succumbs to Morpheus, his last lucid thought is of you; sun beams coming from the large cafe windows that comb through your hair. He looks at you through his mind’s eye and all he can see is the potential heartbreak you have the power to put him through. The fan of your eyelashes. The curve of your smile. The plush of your lips. All he can see is Yoojung as she crushes his soul in her bare hands.
Yet in the midst of his internal conflict, Jungkook’s subconscious allows him to fall in love with you a little bit. Perhaps not love just yet, but affection. Like a toe dip in uncharted waters or sticking his finger in a bowl of creamy cake batter just for a taste. The walls he has built are still there, strong as ever, but perhaps a couple bricks look a bit askew. He doesn’t know, but his soul calls out to your’s through the fortress.
◐
“Y/N I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea.”
“Oh hush, just close your eyes and point where your heart tells you to.”
In the lobby of a train station, facing a map and an ETA board is where you and Jungkook will be embarking on your next “date but not really because you don’t believe in soulmates so let’s just hang out”. It had taken a good two hours of nagging and whining on your part to convince him to abandon his portfolio for just a little bit to go an outing. Now standing here, with you excitedly bouncing next to him and a mystery destination, Jungkook feels something akin to utter regret.
“What if I choose somewhere that’s a thousand miles away? Or just in the middle of nowhere?”, Jungkook groans, still putting up an unbothered and cold front.
“Well then we will go somewhere that’s a thousand miles away or in the middle of nowhere”, you quipped back at him. Jungkook had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.
He reluctantly places a hand over his eyes, sighing with resignation before pointing to a random spot on the map. There is a giggle that sounds to his left and Jungkook finds himself wanting to hear more.
“Wonderful choice”, you smiled, “couldn’t have picked it better myself.”
Jungkook peeked his eyes open one at a time, scared of seeing what his intuition has chosen for your guys’ spontaneous destination. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that his fingers landed on a town on the outskirts of the city, 20 minutes away from the university. He silently thanks the universe for not sabotaging his wallet and time.
“We’re never doing this again, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks as you are in front of him, skipping happily to the front desk to buy two train tickets.
“Wasn’t it fun, though? The thrill?”, you chuckle at his demeanor, to which he only shakes his head vehemently. You note the newest thing you’ve just learned about Jungkook: he has an aversion to uncertainty and spontaneity.
The train ride was as brief as it was uneventful. You spent the time rambling to Jungkook about all the quips and quirks about yourself and he only listened. Though he kept quiet, his face was free of any annoyance or indication that you were speaking too much. Jungkook only stared at you and unknowing to you, he soaked in every bit of information like a sponge. If anyone asked, he could tell them what foods you were allergic to, what colors wash you out, and what vegetables you hated the most.
“Wow you didn’t have to pick somewhere so far away, Jungkook.” You muse as the two of you step out of the train car. So far away in fact, that if you were to crane your head up enough, you would be able to see the university from a distance.
“Hey, you were the one who made me choose”, Jungkook spares a rare smile, “Would you rather we have shelled out our wallets to go on an 18-hour train ride?”
“Okay, fair point.”
The city was as abundant as it was big, and the both of you walked aimlessly from avenue to avenue, stopping occasionally whenever you see a dog you just can’t help but to pet or whenever Jungkook complained about his sore feet. As cold and indifferent as Jungkook made himself out to be, you’ve quickly come to realize that he’s actually a big baby. He still hasn’t let you in or even lowered his walls by a tiny centimeter, but you like to think that even agreeing to go anywhere with you could be considered significant progress.
Jungkook doesn’t notice the pounding of his heart whenever his hands graze against your’s, walking side by side so close he can feel the heat emanating through your coat. He doesn’t notice the peace he feels, just the synchronicity of his feet as he places them on the pavement.
The fraught wind that blows straight at Jungkook’s face prompts him to look up from where his eyes were cast on the ground. He almost staggers at how strong it is, but finds himself weak in the knees for a completely different reason.
Of course.
Of all the days, of all the times, of all the people in this entire city.
Of course she had to be the one that was currently staring at him from across the intersection.
The red light seems to go on forever. Either that or time has just spontaneously frozen, Jungkook can’t tell. But his eyes are fixed on hers and his feet bolster him to the concrete when all he wants to do is sprint the other way and forget he ever saw this ghost from the past.
Yoojung looks as beautiful as the day she left him.
She’s gained some weight and her cheeks have filled out, but it looks healthy on her now (Jungkook always chided her for forgetting to eat). She stares at him with a combination of shock and guilt and something he wants to overthink into affection but he won’t give himself that satisfaction anymore. She dyed her hair. Light brown looks good on her.
She looks...happy. As happy as anyone can look when they’re rushing through thick crowds of a city, traffic horns blaring like a dilapidated symphony.
In the heat of it all, it’s impossible for you not to notice Jungkook’s sudden change in demeanor or the way he has suddenly stopped breathing. When you follow his gaze, there is a girl on the other side of the street that shares the same starstruck expression and even from the outside looking in, you can feel the weight of something painful in his eyes. In her stature.
When the lights turn green, the throngs of city dwellers migrate across and you stay beside Jungkook when he doesn’t move a muscle. Not even a finger twitch. But she does. And he can only fight to keep the ache away when Yoojung gets closer with every millisecond. Until she is standing right in front of him and he can smell her familiar vanilla perfume.
“Jungkook”, she speaks, apprehension in her voice. “It’s been a while...how are you?”
Yoojung only spares you a side glance while keeping attention on Jungkook and you only grow more curious as to who this strange woman is.
He wants to speak so badly but his tongue remains frozen. He turns to you with flabbergast in his eyes and shakes his head to snap out of the daze of confusion. Of seeing the love of his life again. Or who he thought was the love of his life.
“Could you give us a minute, Y/N?”
You didn’t know why but the words that came from his lips made you feel disappointed. Perhaps you were just stupid for thinking he would introduce you. Tell her that you’re his soulmate and scream it at the top of his lungs with sheer pride. But your imagination has hurt you countless times and you had a feeling this one wouldn’t be the last. You manage a curt nod and push away the twinge in your heart. There was a boundary between you and Jungkook and today was not the day to cross it and introduce yourself as his soulmate to any random stranger.
Once you are out of vicinity and have found solace in a bookstore 10 feet away, Jungkook allows himself to breathe in Yoojung’s presence.
“I didn’t know if you were still in the city”, he falters, voice coming out quieter than he would have liked it to. But what was he supposed to sound like confronting the supposed love of his life.
“I never left, Jungkook...my entire life is here.” She sighs, smiling lightly with eyes seeping with guilt.
He scoffs. “I don’t know Yoojung, you seem to leave behind important things pretty easily.” Jungkook feels himself getting angrier and resentful by the second, and though he knows it is unfair of him, Yoojung’s mere presence brings back all the wounds he never truly healed from.
Granted, on a concrete sidewalk next to a traffic light pole was not the best place to have a heart to heart about failed relationships. But when has the universe ever given Jungkook the best things in life. He is devastatingly cynical for someone who dedicates his career to art.
Yoojung wears a frown on her face, but there is no vindictiveness there. Just an overwhelming sense of remorse that Jungkook communicates as pity.
“I don’t know how else to say that I’m sorry”, she sighs, eyes falling to the ground. Jungkook wishes it would just open up and swallow him whole.
“Then don’t say anything.” He turns to walk away.
“Wait! Jungkook can we...can’t we catch up or something? For a couple minutes?” Yoojung is visibly desperate, and her hands are outstretched as if wanting to touch him but keeping herself from overstepping the line.
Jungkook glances through the window of the bookstore, and you are situated on a chair, already nose deep in a hefty book. He wants to smile and tease you for being such a nerd, but the weight of Yoojung’s presence makes him reinforce those walls of indifference tenfold.
He exhales frustration and inhales temptation, looking back into Yoojung’s familiar eyes and nodding. Jungkook walks to a nearby bench and sits down with no words exchanged, looking forward coldly even when he feels her warmth next to him. A couple months ago, Jungkook would have set all his canvases on fire to feel her beside him again. Now, he’s not so sure.
“So…”, she starts, “who’s that cute girl you were with?”
“No one.” He shoots out a little too soon with no hesitation. Yoojung gulps.
“You know Jungkook, it’s okay to find someone. I-I know I hurt you, but I’m glad if you’ve found someone who doesn’t.” Jungkook doesn’t say anything so she continues.
“I’m really happy for-”
“I never really forgave you Yoojung.” He stares blankly at the passersby and tries to ignore the ache in his bones. The one that’s been there the day she left and took a piece of his heart with her.
“And I don’t want to blame you for my decisions but I want you to know that I push away a lot of people because of you. People that don’t deserve it.” From the corner of his eye, he can see her nod solemnly to his words and fidget with her hands in her lap. Part of him feels guilty for unloading on Yoojung. Part of him feels like maybe he deserves to.
“What you did was really shitty. Astronomically fucking shitty. And I’ve spent the past eternity hating you and maybe I still do, but…”, Jungkook takes a deep breath, “I want to forgive you now. If not fully, then partially. I hope you can understand that.” He finally tilts his head to look at her and though the smile on her face is as beautiful as he remembers it to be, Jungkook no longer feels the longing. No longer feels the sting that he usually does when his thoughts take him back to the years they spent together.
Jungkook doesn’t want to call it closure, not yet anyway. Sitting here on the bench, he still wants to scream and yell and tell Yoojung of all the nights he’s spent alone since she left. He still wants to drag her back and wonder if she could love him again like she used to.
But he doesn’t. He listens when she tells him about her new job and her new apartment right by the lakeside. They share snippets of their separate lives. Just deep enough to rekindle something warm but shallow enough to not invite anything else in.
When he walks away from the bench and into the bookstore, Jungkook stills feels the walls that he has built around himself. He is still scared of opening up and being vulnerable but the anger held for Yoojung for so long is no longer a raging fire. More so a wickering flame.
When he spots you, though, he remembers why he built those walls in the first place. He remembers how easy it used to be for him to climb a high peak and fall to his demise. Your eyes widen when you catch sight of him, lips curling into a wide smile and clear excitement in your expression. The book in your hands is tossed aside and tunnel vision reserved for him and him only. Something blooms in his chest and he can’t remember the last time someone’s been so elated to just simply see him...aside from his dog. Jungkook reminds himself to act uncaring. If he pretends long enough, he’ll start to believe it himself.
◓
The train ride home feels longer than the one there. The minutes drag by and perhaps it is because of your drooping eyes or the way Jungkook is looking at you with a different tenderness than he has been before. His stare is not harsh. It’s soft and sweet, but subtle enough for you to wonder if you are just imagining it. The night has always been unforgiving and cold even in the spring, but perhaps all that’s needed to breathe some warmth, is a 15 minute train ride and a wrist with a crescent moon.
Yet every time you become more smitten with Jungkook, there is a harsh reminder that follows you everywhere like a designated storm cloud.
Jungkook does not love you. And you are trying and you will continue to try but his eyes tell you something he is too courteous to say. You see it now as he sits across from you and admires the skyline from the window. It makes you wonder if it is soulmates he doesn’t believe in, or if it is just you that he can’t bring himself to accept. With every cold glance and wall that he puts up, you start to convince yourself that it is the latter.
“We’re here, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks quietly, interrupting your drifting thoughts. He turns around and leaves the train car with hands tucked in his coat pocket. Did you expect him to escort you out and hold your hand? Of course not. But you were tired of Jungkook being so indifferent to your existence.
You follow him glumly out the doors that slide close after you step through. Then it zips off again and you wonder where it would have taken you if you just stayed in your seat. If Jungkook would have even noticed that you hadn’t followed him when he left.
You sigh into the night air and wish it was winter so that your breath could be visible as a white cloud. Maybe then Jungkook would notice that you were a living being beside him.
“Who was that girl that we met back there?”, you murmur hesitantly. Jungkook nearly chokes on air.
“No one”, he responds curtly, effectively cutting off the conversation then and there. It makes your heart sink. She must be important and all you want to do is know every single detail about their relationship, but the look in his eyes warn you to not pry.
You don’t think you can forget the way Jungkook looked at her from across the street. Like he had been lost this whole time and she was the North star. You saw the way his eyes twinkled in the midday sun and sparkled even more when she came closer. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to have that effect on him.
“Hey, next time you should pick a place you and I both do not live in”, you giggle, nudging his shoulder with your own. It makes him smile and even though your heart feels heavy in your chest, Jungkook looks so beautiful when he smiles.
The two pair of feet subconsciously carry you both to the front door of your apartment building and the scene is too familiar from the last time. You expect him to turn around and whisper a hushed goodnight under his breath, and you’ll have to watch the back of his head disappear down the street. But he doesn’t. Just stands across from you quietly and waits for you to say something. So you do.
“Jungkook, I’m sorry if I brought up something you didn’t want to remember. I don’t really know your story but it seems you two have a lot of history.” You want to tell him how hard it is for you to be his soulmate when he is so clearly vying for the warmth of someone else. Someone who didn’t have a crescent moon on her wrist.
“I know you’ll tell me whenever you’re ready, and if that’s never then I’ll keep waiting until forever. But I’m here if you want to talk or unload and I already know I can help because…” you fidget with your hands and look around nervously.
“Well, because I’m your soulmate.”
When you say it loud and explicitly, Jungkook thought the statement would have made him recoil. But it doesn’t. It just seeps through his consciousness and feels warm when he thinks about the weight of those words. You are his soulmate, regardless of if he believes in such a thing or not. You carry the same mark as he does on your wrist and somehow, by some intangible factor, the universe had decided that you were created for him and he for you.
And when he looks at you. Really looks at you. When Jungkook processes your sincere words and how you manage to deal with his insurmountable boundaries even when you barely know him…
Jungkook has never wanted to kiss you more.
So he does.
Your lips taste like mint chewing gum and the ghost of words you wish to tell him but can’t. He feels you stiffen until you completely melt in his hold, and Jungkook cradles your face with both his hands, pulling you closer to him until there is no barrier between you but the clothes on your back and the emotional distance. You feel so far away even when you’re this near. Was it a trick of your imagination when you felt the moon on your wrist tingling?
It doesn’t last as long as you would’ve liked it to. Jungkook yanks his hands from you like your skin scalded him and takes several steps back. His chest rises up and down violently when his breath comes out ragged, posture stiffening as the gravity of what just happened finally absorbs. You’re there, he knows you’re there and standing in front of him. So why is it he can only see Yoojung. Yoojung and the star on her wrist and apologies on her lips. Yoojung and the tears in her eyes when she walks away.
You can only stare confusedly when his body goes rigid, and a sudden coldness envelops you both.
And in the haze of post-embrace, like any two normal lovers, you catch something in his eyes that sets a heavy feeling in your stomach. Before you can confirm if it’s just a trick of the light, Jungkook is already running in the opposite direction and you can only see a shadow of sullen love that follows him. He is gone and you are standing alone, wondering how moonlight could feel so cold even on a spring night.
You don’t get any sleep that night. Every time you close your eyes, there is only the sight of Jungkook’s disgust and regret to lull you to dreams.
20 minutes away from your apartment, there is a boy who doesn’t sleep either. He won’t text or call to tell you that he can’t shake off the feeling of your skin on his and your breath fanning his cheek. He won’t admit to himself that tonight, when he looked at you, he felt the possibility of falling in love. He won’t tell you that the moon on his skin longs to be traced by your hands. No, he just shares those secrets with his pillow as its linen soaks up his tears.
In the midst of it all, there is one verdict that becomes clear to him.
Jungkook wishes he had never told Jimin he needed a muse.
◑
The next three weeks is dedicated to trying to get in touch with your soulmate. Through the whirlwinds of utter confusion and desperation, you try texting, calling, emailing, even showing up at his art studio and apartment to no avail. It seemed he had a talent for avoiding soulmates.
It hurt, to say the least. That he left you high and dry after giving you the most intense
kiss of your life and doesn’t even have the decency to let you know he’s alive. The feeling of his lips still burns on your skin and you wonder if you are a complete fool for being so smitten with a person who, quite possibly, hasn’t spared you a single thought after that night. You just want - no you just need some clarity.
Jungkook makes you wait another week before replying.
It is an impossibly sunny day when you wake up. Your neck is stiff from sleeping like a contortionist and your heart aches even more than your muscles with every passing morning with radio silence from your soulmate. You want to call him and tell him you’re sorry. That you’ll forget anything ever happened. It hurts to even think about it, but for Jungkook, you would go through a little more pain so he would let you into his life.
Outside the hall, Jimin is singing along to a familiar melody of a song you don’t know the name of and judging by the aroma that wafts through the cracks of your door, he has successfully made a pot of coffee. He has been an anchor throughout this whole thing, and sometimes you make a secret wish to the stars that Jimin had been the one with a crescent moon on his wrist instead. Perhaps that way, you wouldn’t have to go through the agony of chasing love that is constantly sprinting away from you.
Your phone lays on the bedside table and buzzes innocently to start the morning. When you reach over and scroll through notifications routinely, there is a name there that makes your heart pang. Makes you want to throw up and celebrate at the same time. A text from Jungkook. Your fingers shake as you open it.
I no longer need a model for the portfolio. Thank you for your involvement. Compensation will be provided promptly.
The day you met him, you already knew that Jungkook was cold. He never dawdled around a painful truth or toed the line between bluntness and sparing feelings. Jungkook spoke his mind, collateral damage be damned. But this is a different type of cold. This one feels more like dry ice on warm skin. Like the numbing chill of a fading hope. Like winter’s first snowfall when autumn had promised you it would forever stay.
Phone in your hand and tears threatening to drip down your cheeks, you wish you would have waited a bit more before opening his text. Perhaps that way you could have spent the rest of your morning basking in the spring sun, drinking Jimin’s inevitably bad coffee, having hope that Jeon Jungkook would grow to care for you. Perhaps if you hadn’t opened it so soon, your soulmate would still seem in reach.
Jimin’s mug nearly drops out of his hand when the door of your bedroom is slammed open. He flings it to the side when he notices your red-rimmed eyes and the shaking hands that clutch onto a cellphone. You scream and sob at the universe, at anyone, asking why it was you that had to experience the chaos of longing. Jimin was there to hold you, as he always is, and helplessly listen to the sound of your heart breaking once again by the hands of Jungkook.
◒
Room 62B of the art building is a place you hope to never have to visit again. Though it’s walls contain memories of you and Jungkook, and the evenings navigating his gallery portfolio along with your convoluted relationship, the wallpaper bleeds with a longing ache. A yearning pain. And if those walls could talk, you don’t think you would want them to say anything at all. They would only murmur what you are slowly accepting to be true.
Jungkook, your soulmate, wants nothing to do with you.
When you hesitantly rap on the door with a fisted hand, the sound of him rustling from inside makes you want to run the opposite direction. It opens before you get the chance to change your mind and the sight of him nearly takes your breath away. He is beautiful as he always is, hair ruffled and mussed from undoubtedly running his hands through it compulsively. His lips are pink from biting on them and the dark circles under his eyes tells you of the dreams he has deprived himself of.
Jungkook is painfully gorgeous and painfully not yours.
“Y/N...I sent you a text earlier.” His voice is saccharine but the words taste so bitter.
“I know. I read it”, you murmur, shrinking in on yourself.
“I....Can we talk, Jungkook?”
His eyes dart around nervously at your question, chewing on his bottom lip and tapping the toe of his shoe as if he was impatient and you were bothering him. And you have known that simply being around Jungkook hurts but the light at the end of the tunnel only continues dwindling.
You understand why he is acting so restless when your gaze drifts past him and into the room. There is a girl perched on a stool, across from a canvas and easel that you know awfully well. You don’t recognize her but it’s only in your nature to begin comparing every aspect of yourself to this stranger. She sits on her hands and swings her legs back and forth, head in the clouds and eyes trailing the ceiling. She isn’t aware of the weight of her presence in the studio, nor the turmoil she has brought to you, who is standing just outside the door.
The oxygen in the hallway thins and the breath you’ve been waiting to release since knocking catches in your throat. Coming here, you prepared yourself for a long and inevitably heart-wrenching talk with your soulmate. But you hadn’t prepared for the possibility that he had replaced you overnight.
The only thought that blares through your mind is that this is your fault. For letting yourself think you were worth more to Jeon Jungkook than any other stranger. You can no longer find it in yourself to be angry at him. Just yourself.
“You…”, you gulp down a whimper, “you replaced me.”
Jungkook follows your vacant stare past him and sighs, realizing you had most likely deducted what this scene looked like. You would be right. Between the weeks of trying to understand what you were to him and the impending due date of the portfolio, Jungkook was sure the best way to move past this confusion was to just speed full steam ahead. That meant finding another muse. You were no longer an option.
You only stare down at the floor, but Jungkook begins speaking anyway.
“Y/N, I…I’m sorry.” You scoff at his words, feigning anger when inside, you truly didn’t know if you could piece yourself back together this time.
“Look, Y/N. It’s not you. It’s just that…”, he breathes deep, not knowing why it was so hard to say. “I’ve stopped believing soulmates were truly a thing a long time ago. I’m sorry.”
It’s not the first time you’ve heard these words but it doesn’t mean they hurt any less.
“I didn’t want to initiate anything, Y/N, but you did and I let you and that was my fault to let anything start. I shouldn’t have when I knew nothing would come of it.”
It was a fault to him. It never should have happened.
“So you just thought you would kiss me and decide that I meant nothing to you afterwards?”
“It was a mistake.” It was painful to think it but when you hear Jungkook say it, you experience a new kind of ache. A humorless chuckle bubbles past your throat.
“I really thought you would grow to love me. Now I know it’s not your fault that I’m a complete fool. To fall head over heels for my soulmate who wishes he had never even met me. Much less share a mark.”
You can see Jungkook’s eyes widen at your confession, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It was the truth. He deserved to hear it.
“You shouldn’t. You can’t.” He reaches up to pull at his hair frustratedly.
“Can’t what, Jungkook? Love you? You think I want to be in love with someone who wishes I didn’t exist?” You hate your voice for breaking, but its impossibly painful when he does nothing to deny your statement.
“What do you want me to say, Y/N? What can I say to make this better?”
Try: I love you too.
“I don’t need you to say anything you don’t mean, Jungkook.”
“Then shouldn’t you leave?”
Jeon Jungkook is cruel even when he doesn’t mean to be. There is oblivion in his gaze, and his question is one of genuine curiosity. But it still stabs you exactly where your heart is most tender. Yes, I should have left.
“I guess I thought you were worth the pain, Jungkook. When you pushed me away and wanted nothing to do with me, I thought you were worth hurting for just to try a little more. Worth the uncertainty of being around you but never getting to actually be with you”, you numbly mutter, uncaring about the rivulets of tears down your face. Not like it wasn’t something he’s never seen before. There is more to come on the tip of your tongue, and Jungkook stays quiet to let you speak. There is conflict in his vision, but you don’t want to give yourself the false hope that he cares for you.
Look where that has gotten you before.
“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”
Saying the words are revelation for you as much as it is for him. All this time, you’ve been running away from the truth in the pursuit of your soulmate. You hadn’t realized that the chase led you astray.
“And I know that loving me is not easy. I’m…”, you force the words out so he can at least hear your turmoil by his hands. “I’m never really good enough for anyone. Why did I expect that I would be good enough for you?”
Jungkook’s expression crumples into a frown. “Y/N, no, that’s not what I mean-”
“You don’t have to tell me what you mean, Jungkook. I meet you and the first thing you say is that you don’t believe in such a thing. I try to get close to you and all you know to do is push me away. And I try so hard to be enough but how can I when Yoojung still has your heart? So you don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.” You’ve stopped crying but the ache relents, and you can only look desperately at the boy who’s slipping from your grasp with every passing second.
“I’m sorry.” The message is redundant.
“I can’t…” Rip off the bandaid.
“I just can’t love you.”
The words make their way past his lips before he can stop them, and they shoot through your core ruthlessly. A sharpened dagger to soft flesh. It manifests itself in a physical pain that reverberates across your chest, and when the last strength left in you is used to stare at Jungkook through a pained and teary gaze, you are deaf to everything but those four words.
I can’t love you.
I can’t love you.
I can’t love you.
You’re not sure what he is sorry for at this point. If Jungkook is apologizing for not loving you, you don’t blame him. If he is sorry for entertaining the possibility, you don’t blame him. If he is sorry that you are the one with a crescent moon on your wrist, well...you don’t blame him either. All your life you cherished it like some kind of gift from the universe. Now, nursing your crumbling soul in front of Jungkook, you wish it had never appeared in the first place.
You shake your head, tucking your lip in between your teeth to stop the sob in your chest from escaping. Through the crack of the door Jungkook hadn’t shut fully, the girl was still there, patiently sitting where you were supposed to and making herself scarce after inevitably hearing you bare your heart to a boy who had no interest in it.
Humiliation goes hand in hand with heartbreak, and the embarrassment that comes with confessing your love and insecurity urges your feet to run home. But even you cannot deprive yourself of looking at him one more time.
His wavy head of hair. The scar on his cheekbone that makes him look even more beautiful, if that were possible. The gloss in his dark brown eyes, and the way he looks at you through stone cold walls. You commit it to memory, however painful, before you walk out of his life.
“Be happy, Jungkook.”
You truly mean it.
◐
The sound of your footsteps getting farther away from him is a sound Jungkook thinks he’ll remember for a long time. It almost prompts him to run after you, cradle you to his chest, and profess how sorry he is again and again until you can truly feel the sincerity. But he doesn’t. Only remains behind the self-procured walls and watches when your figure disappears down the hallway.
Cold. Unbothered. Indifferent. That’s what he had always told himself when it came to you. But the hallway feels so lonely and the ghost of your presence feels even lonelier, and Jungkook wonders if he had been wrong.
He walks back into the studio, permanent frown on his face and shoulders hunched over in stress. The paintbrush feels like a stranger rather than an extension of his arm, as it always does, but Jungkook begins painting anyway. Looking at the girl in front of him, he is reminded of the look on your face when you realized he had replaced you completely in the span of three weeks, without even giving you a notice. Her presence in his art studio suddenly feels entirely suffocating.
“Mina, Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out of my studio. I don’t need you as a model, anymore. Thanks.” His voice cut through the tension of the room, like a hot knife to butter. He recognizes it as the voice he always forces himself to use around you, and grows even more aggravated.
The girl scoffs annoyedly, snatching her handbag from the floor and rushing out of the room. Obviously she had thought something more was to come from Jungkook’s art arrangement. He made sure to let her know that was not the case.
There is a gnawing in his chest. Deep and subtle, but it becomes more prominent as the window view from his studio turns from blue to black. He ponders about spending the night in here, instead of going home to his bedroom where he is forced to consult with the agony of solitude. On top of everything today, Jungkook doesn’t think he can handle that.
Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the pain in your face when he tells you that he can’t love you and he hears the shaking in your voice when you tell him the things that weighed on your soul. He thought the word “wither” was only reserved for flowers. Jungkook didn’t realize a person could wither until he saw it right in front of him.
In truth, he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he could love you or not. And to Jungkook, that was already a feat in itself. He’s spent so many months convincing himself that his emotional fortress was impregnable. So many nights over whiskey bottles telling himself that love was only for fools and pretenders. To be uncertain about love, now, well...that’s something he is not yet ready to admit to himself. Much less admit to you. But letting you any closer was a fatal game.
Being uncertain about love means being uncertain about getting hurt. Jungkook has a feeling he wouldn’t make it out in one piece if his heart fell into wrong hands.
He does end up returning to his apartment that night. But the walk feels far too long and the air feels far too frigid, or perhaps is it because he can’t hear the tread of your footsteps beside him?
Whatever the reason, tonight feels more lonely.
The stars tell him it’s because he does not like the person he’s alone with.
Back in room 62B, there is an abandoned painting on a rickety easel. He hadn’t even had the will to wash out his paintbrush, and he’s sure he’ll pay for it the next day. Looking at the piece now, his professor would tell him that there’s too many colors. Too much contrast and nearly not enough depth in his strokes. But what was he to do when he had kicked out his new model and couldn’t get the image of your visible heartbreak out of his brain?
A familiar wrist with a quaint crescent moon sits on the canvas, and he sure as hell didn’t use Mina as the inspiration. Jungkook reminds himself to throw out the painting tomorrow morning.
◓
The grease on Jimin’s skillet pan is always so hard to clean. The dish soap never truly cuts through the oil, and no matter how much you rinse it over with scalding water, it still feels soiled. On a normal day, it wouldn’t frustrate you so much. Today, a month-and-a-half after your soulmate made it clear to you that you had no place in his life, you want to throw the pan out the window and cry on the kitchen floor until it collapses with the weight of your tears.
You settle for throwing down the sponge and making Jimin wash his own dishes.
The phone-that you usually now tend to ignore-buzzes on the counter, and you groan at your complete lack of desire to answer it. But the screen lights up with your roommate’s name and you hit the green button.
“Y/N! How are you feeling, lovebug?” Jimin’s cheerful tone on speakerphone makes you want to cry. You can only imagine how terrible it is for him to be your roommate when all you know how to do now is mope and cry about a boy who probably hasn’t thought about you since. But he’s been holding you through all your breakdowns, and even sets up the air mattress on the floor of your bedroom when some nights are a little bit harder than most.
“I’ve had better days”, you glare at the pan in the sink. “What’s up?’
“So I have a friend…”
“Jimin, no.”
He sighs over the phone understandingly, but still not satisfied. “I know it’s only been a month Y/N, but it doesn’t have to be anything. He’s not looking for anything serious either. But maybe it would be good for you to take your mind off things.”
It’s been a month. Four weeks. Roughly 31 days, and you still remember every word he said to you in the hallway of the art building. Every pause and quiver of his breath, and the way he looked so completely indifferent to your pain. Was one month enough for you to let go even after finding out Jungkook never planned to hold on in the first place?
“Look, you don’t have to decide now. I’m sorry for pushing you if you’re not ready.” His mumbling is apologetic and it makes you realize that Jimin genuinely means well. Maybe you weren’t ready to move on from Jungkook yet. Maybe you never will be. He was your damn soulmate, after all. But maybe a distraction couldn’t hurt.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll do it.”
You can practically feel him smiling like an idiot over the phone. “Really?!” You sigh into the speaker and Jimin knows better to continue talking before you change your mind.
“His name is Namjoon, he works with me at the office. Super cute. Super hot. Super smart. Checks all your boxes!”, he rambles on about the nitty gritty details and though a part you is proud that you’re making the decision to move on with life, you can’t help but to realize that no one will ever be able to “check all your boxes”.
Not if they’re not Jungkook.
“He sounds great, Jimin.” Anyone can tell your happiness is disingenuous, even through the phone. Jimin tells you that he had already planned a date (without your knowledge), and sends you on your way with a quick goodbye when his taxi arrives. The silence of the apartment after the conversation leaves you feeling even more weighted, but hopeful for the possibility of a distraction. You had a feeling you won’t be able to forget the likes of Jeon Jungkook if you tried. But, if only for a night, you were to forget the pain of loving him, you’ll take that chance.
◑
“What do you mean they all ‘feel the same’?” Jungkook is exasperated. He had drafted a complete version of his portfolio, working through the nights by the sweat of his brow. Now his professor was telling him that all his pieces felt the same and Jungkook thinks he might commit arson to the art studio.
Professor Sejin sighs contemplatively, taking off his glasses and throwing them on the table, all too familiar with Jungkook’s periodic art tantrums.
“I mean that your pieces lack any variegation. The portfolio is well done and coherent, but the completed package is one-noted. It’s consistent. But too much so.”
Professor Sejin’s words make him fall back into the chair dejectedly, shoulders slumped and disappointment in his eyes at the critique of his art. Though it is hard to hear, Jungkook always welcomes productive criticism. The older man sympathizes with his downcast eyes and the visible stress on his back.
“Look, Jungkook”, he affirms sincerely, “you just need to find some dynamic. Something to make people know that you can do more than one tone of art.” It’s obvious that the professor has a soft spot for the boy in front of him, who looks like his entire world is collapsing. The portfolio folder is handed back to him and Jungkook has the urge to burn it and not hear the word “gallery” again in the next decade.
“I have faith in you. You’ll figure out what it is that you’re missing.” The smile on the man’s face is congenial. Genuine. And even though he has an ambitious amount of work to do, Jungkook finds the will to nod, haul himself off the office chair, and begin the trek back to his studio.
The pinnacle of spring is approaching and the sun shines brighter with each morning. Not that he would know or care. He’s spent the last month locking himself inside, dedicating every fluid ounce of energy towards completing his project. It’s been surprisingly easier, and Jungkook finds himself finishing paintings, sketches, and sculptures with ease. Like untapped inspiration had revealed itself to him suddenly. Yet it still wasn’t enough...at least not according to Professor Sejin.
Headphones drown out the cacophony of hustlers and bustlers with the laughter of children as accompaniment. He doesn’t allow himself to enjoy the music of the city. Not anymore. It gives him too much space to think, and Jungkook has a feeling that’s not good for anyone and definitely not good for him.
The sight of a familiar bakery with particularly delicious apple strudels is enough to stop him in his rush, feet winding down until he is standing outside, staring at the door and wondering if he could go in without being reminded of you. Well, it might be too late for that anyhow, but further signs of protest are halted when he hears his growling stomach.
Jungkook had morbidly underestimated your presence in the memory of his favorite cafe. You are everywhere. He sees your smiling face when he looks up at the chalkboard menu, soul vying for you to be next to him and excitedly choosing a new fru-fru drink that would undoubtedly have excessive sugar. He hears your giggles ruminating through the cafe while the other patrons only hear the music over loudspeaker. He practically feels you near, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s better this way. No one gets hurt this way.
Jungkook plops himself at a corner table and buries his face in his hands, fingertips soothing over his pulsing eyebags and wrinkles he’s gotten from sleep deprivation. He desperately needs an espresso shot. Or five.
“Hey…”, a voice makes him snap his head up. Jungkook recognizes the stranger as the owner’s son, who always stands guard at the cash register. The tag on his lapel reads Kim Seokjin, and Jungkook has a distant memory of you gushing over how nice Seokjin’s hair was. He had acted unbothered back then, but Jungkook would die before telling a soul that he was annoyed and jealous when you thought the cashier was cute.
“Jungkook, right?”. He has a kind smile and a natural air of invitation. Jungkook nods.
“I’ve seen you around a lot. Where’s that girl you always come here with?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business”, he nearly hisses, antsy at the mere mention of you. He instantly regrets it though. Seokjin looks like he’s been cornered with a blunt weapon, and it makes Jungkook sigh at his own asshole-ishness.
“I’m sorry”, he mumbles, “just not a good day. At all.”
There is a pause and hesitation before the boy speaks. “Do you...wanna talk about it?” Seokjin’s question is met with silence.
There is a predictability about Jeon Jungkook. He doesn’t open himself up to anyone. He pretends that he doesn’t have problems so well, people start to become convinced. He avoids new connections like it’s the plague. But there is something so idiosyncratic about Kim Seokjin that makes him want to talk. Makes him want to trust a complete stranger.
So Jungkook nods, depositing his black backpack besides him and lets himself breathe deep.
“Her name is Y/N….”
In the lukewarm air of the café, Jungkook tells Seokjin about you. About the tiny crescent moon on your wrist that identically matches his - even unwraps his cloth to show it - and how he pushed you away hard enough to put an ocean’s worth of distance between the two of you. He tells Seokjin about Yoojung and the stars on her skin that have been plaguing him since the day she left. He tells him about that damn portfolio that refuses to be finished; one that he apparently has to start over because Professor goddamn Sejin says it's too boring. He allows himself to unload, and wow is it easier to breathe when you talk about your feelings. Jungkook reminds himself to do that more often.
The “conversation” seems to stretch for hours (if a conversation can be considered one person unleashing all their hidden baggage on the other while they sit in silence). Jin listens intently through the entire ordeal, offering occasional nods and encouragement for him to continue. When Jungkook finally finishes with a deep breath, falling back on the chair looking completely worn out, Jin fixes him with a hot tea before speaking.
“The portfolio is important to you, Jungkook. If it’s important to you, you’ll find a way. Something tells me that you’re not one to give up so easily”, he quips with a playful lilt in his voice. Jin’s genuine faith in him makes Jungkook believe in himself.
“And as for Yoojung, well, I can’t speak on your pain. You are the only one that narrates your experiences but as much as she seems like a villain in your story, perhaps she has opened a door.” Jungkook thinks his voice sounds far too wise to be coming from a guy in his 20’s.
“Would you have known how to nurse a broken heart had it not been for her? I’m sorry she did that to you, Jungkook, but..Yoojung is your past. And I see so much in your future.”
Jungkook only stares into the abyss of his tea cup. The reflection that stares back is someone he desperately wants to learn to love. When he looks up again, there is a sad glimmer in Seokjin’s gaze. Something so despondent that he feels second-hand pain.
Jin pulls up the sleeve of his knit sweater. On his wrist sits a faded marigold, so blanched it almost blends in with his skin and makes him wonder if it will just disappear one day. Jungkook feels his blood run cold.
“It’s been two years since she died”, he stares solemnly at his skin, “I don’t think a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her.”
Jungkook’s thought about his soulmate mark disappearing before. Even hoped and prayed for it the days after Yoojung left. But now, when he sees it up close on Seokjin’s wrist, Jungkook doesn’t want to wish that loneliness upon anyone.
“She was so damn...persistent”, Jin laughs, fondness dripping in every word. “Like your Y/N in that way, I suppose. She had a goal and was hell-bent on achieving it. She was so kind and strong and much more of a badass than I could ever be. I loved that about her.” There is sorrow in his voice when he uses the past tense, and Jungkook feels even worse for pouring his heart out about his very alive soulmate.
“She was studying to be a doctor, you know? Ironic that even the best doctors couldn’t have saved her in the end.” His sentence trails off and he loses focus gazing out the window, fidgeting with the ring on his left hand with a faraway look in his eyes.
“I don’t mean to ramble about my dead soulmate for no reason, Jungkook. And I’m in no position to tell you what you should or should not do regarding Y/N. But if I could restart this life with my soulmate, there wouldn’t be one second I would waste not at her side.” Jin’s tone is not accusatory or convicting. Just honest.
“It’s normal to be scared and apprehensive. Hell, I would be more concerned if you weren’t going into it with a shit ton of skepticism. I was terrified. Yet out of the billions of people that could’ve had my mark on their wrist, just knowing that she was that one was enough for me to love her.”
The cup of tea has long gone cold. Jungkook only manages to stare at the mahogany table, thoughts too heavy to voice aloud, so Jin continues.
“I think I would give anything to know that such a person still exists for me. Someone out there that was chosen by an unknown, cosmic force for an unexplainable reason just for me. To see a mark that matches my own. Well…”, Jin breathes deeply, tears welling in his eyes but not falling, “I think that must be the most wonderful thing in the entire world.”
◒
Seokjin’s words stick with him long after he has departed from the café. Long after the tea has settled in his stomach along with the weight of what a soulmate means to this stranger whose life story he has learned in the course of an evening.
Even so, Jungkook’s not sure what he should feel. The fear of vulnerability still feels like a designated thundercloud above his head, and the thought of letting you past his walls makes Jungkook want to run the other way.
At the same time, the trepidation doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. It’s still there, and he can’t pinpoint exactly what happened but when he sees your smiling face behind his eyelids, Jungkook doesn’t feel scared. When he focuses on what you look like under sunlight, or your eyes staring at him through a camera lens, there is no fear of the broken heart you could leave him with. Just something warm. Something that feels an awful lot like...love?
But what does Jungkook know about such things?
He shrugs it off his shoulders, and readies himself for a night of inevitably restless sleep. He blames it on the impending due date of his beloved portfolio, but really, it is you. You and your insistence on trying every single coffee shop in the city. You and your convoluted idea of a date; letting your partner choose the location with their eyes closed. You and…
Just everything about you.
He falls asleep well into 4am. The thin strap of cloth sits on his bedside table. Even if it is only for the night sky to see, Jungkook lets his soulmate mark breathe.
◐
It’s been so long since you’ve dressed up or cleaned up to go out anywhere, the reflection that stares back feels like a stranger. You’ve opted for a bold red lip, meticulously applying your makeup so that even the wing of your eyeliner was sharp enough to kill. Jimin forced you to curl your hair too, of course. The girl in the mirror looks beautiful. You know that she is beautiful.
So why is it that you can only see the face that is not enough for Jeon Jungkook? A person that he is unable to love. No, not even foundation can cover the face of longing.
“Y/N”, Jimin sing-songs, “hurry! You don’t wanna be late do you?” No, you don’t want to be late. You want to not go. Maybe retreat to your bedroom and cry the night away again. But you won’t tell him that when he is so clearly ecstatic that you’re spending a night out for the first time in months.
The restaurant looks like it is entirely out of your budget. Well, you reckon any restaurant is out of your budget with all the debt that looms overhead and your painfully apparent unemployment. Waiting for Namjoon is less than exhilarating, and you spend the time fiddling with your bracelet that conveniently covers the crescent moon. These days, you can’t bear to look at it anymore. Your eyes are glued to the little mark, before a voice sounds from across the table.
“Sorry I’m late, traffic was insane. You must be Y/N, nice to meet you.” You weren’t sure what you expected Kim Namjoon to look like but were pleasantly surprised. Namjoon looks like he takes care of himself, neat and clean and sporting a very shiny watch that looks like 4 months’ worth of rent.
“And you must be Namjoon. Likewise.”
When he pulls out the chair to sit down, you can’t help but to notice the cloud on his wrist. It was smaller than yours but you had no doubt it felt just as heavy. If Namjoon felt your gaze on his skin, he did nothing to show it.
“Hey, I know I just got here but…”, he sighs and takes a look around the room, “do you wanna get out of here? Find the cheapest and greasiest food we can?” His request makes you smile, and you grab the purse that rested on the table.
“Namjoon, I think that’s the best idea you’ve had yet.”
You and Namjoon manage to find a diner that wasn’t far from the fancy restaurant, and you thank the skies that you didn’t have to pay $50 for a salad tonight. Just some pocket change for quite possibly the best and oiliest hamburger you’ve ever had.
By conversation that happens through mouthfuls of food and faces smeared with milkshake residue, you come to learn that Namjoon is an unsurprisingly nice guy. He studies poetry, but is working as a secretary at an office, hence his connection to Jimin. He loves to garden and talks about his bonsai plants to you like they’re his kids, even pulling up pictures on his phone and gazing down at them fondly. It makes you smile. He plays the piano, and likes to take long bike rides when the weather permits.
It’s nice to have someone reciprocate your effort. It’s something you haven’t experienced in a long time, all credit to one Jeon Jungkook. Namjoon is warm in all the corners where Jungkook is cold.
In a word, he is pretty damn perfect. And if he had a crescent moon on his wrist, you probably wouldn’t bat an eye or have a lick of doubt in the universe. He encompasses everything you want, so alike you in so many aspects it makes you wary. If Namjoon had your matching soulmate mark, you would already be in love with him.
But he doesn’t. And that thought alone keeps you from feeling anything but platonicity. He is not Jungkook. You don’t think anyone can make you feel the way Jungkook does. You want to curse the stars for making this so.
It’s well into the night, and you both remain planted in the diner booth, chatting and chuckling over a plate of french fries. It’s when you drift off while he’s talking about his latest attempt at focaccia that Namjoon sighs and sits back in the seat.
“What?”, you confusedly ask after he suddenly stops speaking.
He smiles. Stays silent for a couple seconds. Then speaks.
“So what did your soulmate do to you?”
His question catches you off guard and you can only stare at him, frown on your face and words lost on your tongue.
“You’ve been staring into space every 5 minutes this whole night, and fidgeting with your bracelet so much I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off”, he explains, tenderness and sympathy in his tone.
“Every time I speak, you have this sad look in your eyes and I have a feeling you’re imagining someone else’s face, Y/N. I’ve enjoyed talking to you...a lot. But I can tell you want to be somewhere else so”, Namjoon places his elbows on the table and gazes at you endearingly, “tell me about your soulmate.”
You stare at Namjoon through shocked eyes, glistening with the onset of tears that you manage to keep from escaping. Gosh, you were pathetic. Already wanting to cry at the mere mention of him. Or maybe the fact that someone could see through your facade. You take a deep breath.
“His name is Jeon Jungkook.” Your voice quivers, and Namjoon continues listening intently. You are reluctant to continue because you know that once this conversation begins, there is a chance you might have to confront yourself again with the pain of loving someone who doesn’t want love. You internally apologize to Namjoon in advance, for you might cry on this first date.
“I…I’m completely head over heels in love with him but after everything, I’m not sure I have the slightest clue what love is. Because what sane person can fall in love with a person who has made it clear that that love wouldn’t be reciprocated from the get go?”
You fiddle with the plastic straw in your milkshake, searching for the courage to go on and tell him about every thought that you have denied yourself the satisfaction of verbalizing.
“He loves apple strudels, you know. Eats them every time like they’re the last apple strudels he’ll ever have and he doesn’t give a damn who’s watching”, you chuckle, gaze drifting off to space. There is a fondness in your eyes as you speak, and Namjoon does not miss it.
“He’s as punctual as the day is long. One time I was late to a photoshoot and he almost made me cry lecturing me about the importance of being on time. But now I’m never late.”
The memory makes you, as well as Namjoon, smile.
“He paints like his life depends on it, and he’ll get oil paint on his face without noticing and sometimes I just want to reach out and wipe it off. But I think he’d murder me on the spot.”
“How come?”, Namjoon offers his first words in the midst of your monologue. You’re not sure what to say next.
“Well...I think Jeon Jungkook might be the coldest person I’ve ever met”, you dejectedly sigh. Reality tastes bitter even with remnants of whipped cream on your lips.
“Every time I was around him, it felt like I was willingly breaking my own heart just for the chance to know that he was next to me. That in this entire world of billions of people, the one with the same moon on their wrist was next to me. And...I guess I didn’t really need him to love me yet”, your gaze locks onto Namjoon and you find he is already staring at you with utmost curiosity and subtle pity.
“Jungkook alone was enough. I just wish he could have felt the same about me.”
Perhaps the reason why the truth is so painful to speak is because people have a tendency to run from it. Then when it catches up to you, it’s a harsh trip and fall to the rocky ground. There is no cushion when you land.
Namjoon doesn’t offer advice. Doesn’t dish his own experiences to relate to your own or even make any comments from his perspective. He just sits and listens in silence, but it doesn’t feel like he is disregarding you. No, his eyes tell you that he soaks in every word. You hope you’ll get the chance to do the same for him...if he ever decides to share his story with you.
The two of you leave the diner with a prospective to be friends, and no plans of a future second date. You had a strong feeling that spending the entire evening talking about your unrequited soulmate love had something to do with that. Nevertheless, though Namjoon didn’t work out as a distraction, you were glad to have met him. It made you realize something.
Even if Jimin thought you were ready to move on. Even if you thought you were ready to forget. It might be a lifetime before you finally let go of that boy.
◓
The morning reeks of rain and dew, humidity nearly clawing its way through his window and turning his apartment into a swamp. When he wakes up, it is not to his blaring alarm clock, but the uncomfortable sensation of a sweaty shirt sticking to his back. Jungkook groans, already tired of this day. It seems hopeless from the beginning.
As much as he wanted to stay home and crank up the air conditioner so much that his landlord would come running, Professor Sejin’s voice reverberates through his eardrums.
You art is too one-noted, Jungkook.
Be better, Jungkook.
You’re talentless and will never succeed, Jungkook.
Of course, these are not Professor Sejin’s verbatim, more so Jungkook’s own mind that twists his teacher’s constructive criticism into something else. He is a master at feeding his insecurity.
Jungkook chugs down a lukewarm cup of black coffee, and his stomach growls for something with a little more sugar and maybe a dash of rainbow colored sprinkles. He guesses he has you to thank for that. The art studio is always a daily destination, and this day is no different. Jungkook has a plan to dedicate himself to fixing his portfolio and maybe finish that clay piece he never got around to.
The studio is too cold for his liking; Jungkook can’t remember how many times he has begged the superintendent to lower the AC. The cold he can deal with. The loneliness, however, is a different story. Jungkook is always alone. Alone when he’s in his apartment. Alone when he’s in class. Alone when he’s in the art room. These days, aloneness feels more haunting when he knows he had the option to escape it, but chose to stay. A part of him is ready to admit that it’s because of you.
Jungkook hums a random melody that had been stuck in his head since the morning, fingers gliding over the slick sculpting clay. The days are easier now. He doesn’t think about you so much when the sun is out and there is the bustling of the busy city to distract him. The nights, however, are just as difficult as they have been. Jungkook’s last drifting thought is of you, and your face torturously carries over to each dream. Like his entire being misses you but he refuses to accept it.
He takes a deep sigh in relief once the sculpture feels finished. Professor Sejin wanted something more dynamic, so there: his very own realist clay piece drawing inspiration from Praxiteles’ sculpture of Aphrodite. He sits back in pride, admiring his own handiwork and giving himself a mental pat on the back. It looks great. Perfect even. It looks….
It looks like you.
Jungkook pales at the realization as the clay face stares back at him. No, this was supposed to be Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love, inspired by the ancient Greek artist that sculpted her. Then why does she have your nose? Those eyes are definitely your’s and even those cheeks are identical. Jungkook hadn’t even realized that in the rhythm of his art, he got lost and accidentally sculpted your face instead.
He walks away from the clay table and hurriedly yanks off the soiled apron around his waist, confusion swimming in every cell of his body. How had he just...made a sculpture of you? With no knowledge that he was doing it?
Jungkook leans with his back against the sink, staring down at the floor with furrowed brows and a thundering heart. With a sudden epiphany, Jungkook leaps from his position and pulls out all the canvases, printed photographs, graphite drawings, and clay pieces he’s made for the past few months. Everything he can grab in the small studio space.
It is then that he comes to the daunting realization:
Holy shit.
Professor Sejin was right.
Everything feels the same. His whole portfolio has one note and no dynamic or diversity because...well, because all of his pieces are of you. Not you, necessarily, but your breath has come alive on his art in some way, shape, or form.
The multimedia painting he made two weeks ago using polystyrene sheets was supposed to mimic sunlight through a stained glass window, but Jungkook hadn’t even noticed he'd drawn the window of the café you dragged him to on its opening day. And the colors of the glass is just the twinkle of your eyes when they stare back into his.
The photoset he spent hours taking around the city, after taking a 15 minute train ride, were just repeats of all the places you two went to that one day. The book store. The park. The streetlight where Yoojung stopped him. He hadn’t even realized he only saved the photos associated with a subconscious memory of you.
Jungkook can’t explain it, but he feels you in every single picture. Every piece of art that his hands have manifested since you walked into his life, stupid smile on your face and that little moon on your wrist. He feels it...and call it artist’s intuition or something but perhaps that’s why Professor Sejin could feel it too.
Even though he stopped making you his muse months ago, you are still the root of inspiration for whatever he’s produced since. And if that’s not enough to finally tell him what he needs to hear. Finally make him realize that he’s fallen in love with you without even knowing it, the universe doesn’t know what will.
The minutes it has been since he realized your place in his life melts like slow dripping honey, feeling like an eternity when it is mere moments. Jungkook regains his focus in the haze. He knows what you mean to him now, but there was something he had to fo first.
He swipes all his paintbrushes and palette knives to the side, sweat on his brow as he furiously rearranges his portfolio. He takes out the pictures of Mina - no one would miss them anyway - and trashes all the photos he took before he met you. He only uses the art he’s created post-Y/N and tucks them in the manila folder so rapidly, there’s paper cuts on his fingers. But he doesn’t feel them. Jungkook has only one objective.
He snaps a picture of the new clay sculpture he’s just finished. The photo goes into the portfolio with the name ‘Aphrodite’, but Jungkook knows better about whose face that truly belongs to. Not that anyone would bat an eye. He thinks you are as beautiful as the goddess herself.
The trip to Professor Sejin’s office is short, unsurprising though, since Jungkook sprints the whole way there. When he arrives, and the professor can only stare as he’s bent over and huffing violently trying to catch his breath, Jungkook reminds himself to spend less time at the studio and more time on the cardio.
He throws the portfolio onto the man’s desk unceremoniously, nearly collapsing on the chair across from him and not ready to speak yet. Professor Sejin confusedly rifles through the folder quickly, too quickly, and sighs, ready to offer Jungkook yet the same critique again.
He opens his mouth, but Jungkook cuts him off.
“Before you say anything…”, he gulps, finally ready to admit the truth to himself.
“I want you to know that I’ve met my soulmate, a-and there’s a reason why you feel that my portfolio is all the same. There’s a reason why you feel it’s all one-noted or that there’s no progression.” Jungkook takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, and you are there behind his lids.
“It’s because she sowed the seeds for all of them. Everything. Those paintings and photos and sculptures are just symptoms of what I’ve been feeling this whole time after meeting her. She’s practically the artist, not me.” Professor Sejin stays silent at his monologue, gaze unreadable but eyes sharp and trained solely on Jungkook.
“Maybe...Maybe art doesn’t need to be super variegated all the time. Maybe it’s supposed to be a cohesive unit and the pieces should string to each other. Maybe paintings should have a relationship to photos and them, to sculptures. Maybe you’re just...wrong.”
He is exasperated and passion flows out of him through every pore. Jungkook looks expectantly at his professor, who has the open folder in his hand and still in the process of taking in his words. When the adrenaline starts to fade, he realizes that he just dissed his venerable teacher.
“With all due respect…”, he coughs, “sir.”
Professor Sejin lets Jungkook spend the next couple minutes in complete torturous silence so that he can finish reviewing his portfolio. The tension is cut with the sound of the man’s hands slapping together as he closes the folder. Jungkook prepares himself for a stern lecture.
However, when he looks up, there is a smile on the man’s face. There’s no malice there, or even disdain. He pulls off his glasses, sets them on the table, and sits back in the office chair, arms folded over his chest. Jungkook can feel his heart threatening to pound past his rib cage.
“Jungkook…”, Professor Sejin declares, “I think you’ve got a contender for the gallery spot.”
◑
If someone had asked you what Jeon Jungkook meant to you, you would look them in the eye and tell them that he meant nothing. Because it’s easier to pretend that someone does not mean anything to you after they pretend that you do not exist. That the universe had not given you both matching marks and deemed that your souls were meant for each other. Jeon Jungkook is a stranger to you. One that you wanted so badly to love. But you’ve come to learn that no matter how hard you try; you can’t love someone who doesn’t want to love at all.
So the days trickle by as they usually do. Painstakingly slow and viscous with memories of a boy named Jeon Jungkook and the way he has hurt you enough to last a little bit over forever.
“I understand why you don’t want to go, Y/N. But aren’t you the least bit curious? Especially after that fancy invitation in the mail?” Jimin’s query is innocent. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make your blood boil.
“I don’t know...the thought of going to my soulmate’s grand art gallery when the last time we spoke, he told me he can’t love me, just doesn’t seem appealing Jimin”, you snark, burying your face into the bowl of cereal you are now spooning far too aggressively.
“But...it’s been months. And he wouldn’t have sent you an invitation if he didn’t want you to come.”
This conversation has happened too frequently since that red envelope arrived at your apartment. You cried your eyes out when you opened it, both out of pride for Jungkook and the fact that no matter what you did, the universe found a way to keep you from moving on.
A sigh heaves through your chest, and the cereal is abandoned by your loss of appetite. “I’m not going to show up there and have him tell me again all of the reasons he can’t be with me. I barely survived it last time.”
“But what if, Y/N?”
There is a glimmer in Jimin’s eye and he radiates so much hopefulness for you, you can’t help but to feel it too.
“Isn’t the what if already enough? You used to tell me that Jungkook was worth anything. Isn’t he worth the risk this time too?”
You don’t have anything else to say after that because as much as you hate to admit, perhaps Jimin is right. Jungkook is worth going through anything for, even if he wants to stay as far away as possible. Call it a fluke in the postal system that the invitation to his gallery landed on your doorstep, but can you allow yourself to read between the lines and dare say that he sent it himself? Can you put yourself through such a perilous thing like optimism?
Jungkook has left you battered and broken for the past months. But you would give your heart to him to break all over again if he asked.
◒
To say that you did not fit in with those dawdling around the art gallery was a gross understatement. You didn’t just not fit in. Your entire presence and aura defied every expectation, and suddenly, watching the upper echelon of the city mingle with champagne and gaze critically at Jungkook’s art, makes every breath feel like an insecurity.
The boy in question was nowhere in sight, and you now regret not dragging Jimin with you. The invitation had specifically prohibited plus one’s, and though Jimin whined to no end about his hurt feelings and emptily promised never to talk to Jungkook again, you managed to keep him home. Now, you wish you were back at the apartment with him.
The pieces were, in short, completely breathtaking (to no surprise, of course, this was Jungkook you were talking about). Though you knew he always held doubt in himself, in the short time he allowed you to be in his life, you had never once thought he was anything less than spectacular. Yet you could not allow yourself to completely enjoy them. Each brushstroke and paint color you remember from his palettes, or the filters on the photos that you helped him with, was agonizing to look at.
You are standing in front of a canvas titled “Windowlight” when a man comes up beside you. He nurses a flute of bubbly champagne and makes no move to gain eye contact. Unknown to you, Professor Sejin knows exactly who you are. He’s seen your face in his student’s portfolio one too many times.
“Artful use of mixed media, isn’t it?”, he mutters.
“I suppose so.”
“He’s quite the prodigy. Have you met him yet? I’m sure he’s lurking around somewhere.” The man takes a sip from his glass, smirk on his lips hidden from your eyes that still blankly stare ahead.
“Yes. He’s a...friend.” We share a soulmate mark. He hates my guts.
He hums a sound of affirmation and you ignore the weird feeling it leaves in your stomach; one that tells you this stranger sees right through you.
“Ah, how rude of me. Professor Sejin. Arts director and senior advisor.” He spares you a brief glance, but you make no move to shake his hand or pretend to be courteous. You don’t have the energy for it tonight. Just being in this building, surrounded by everything Jungkook has touched, makes you want to collapse into yourself.
“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” He speaks nonchalantly, and you almost miss the fact that you never told him your name. Your brows crease in confusion and you are ready to turn and interrogate the stranger, but he is already walking away, gliding smoothly across the gallery. Before he gets too far, though, Sejin cranes his neck and makes eye contact.
“Oh, and be sure to visit the one called ‘Moon’. It’s upstairs, next to the Aphrodite sculpture on the second level exhibit”, he entreats, a suspicious lilt in his voice.
“Something tells me you’ll appreciate its…sincerity.”
Honestly, you’re not sure what you expected when you came to Jungkook’s art gallery tonight. But to be approached by a stranger who already knows your name, who dubiously instructs you to seek out a mystery art piece, was not on the list of expectations. Still...Professor Sejin’s words made you curious.
Through the night, your eyes subconsciously seek out that familiar head of fluffy brown hair and a tall gait that always seems to stick out, even in a large crowd. It was as if Jungkook versed himself in complete camouflage, so much so that you began to doubt that he was even in the building.
The traipse through the gallery is done in silence and solitude, and you tune out the sounds of popping champagne and raucous laughter coming from the second floor, as the patrons undoubtedly banter over which piece to auction off. You hope he keeps them. You’ve never seen someone appreciate art the way that Jungkook does.
You catch sight of a few pieces that you recognize, ones that you remember him showing you when he had finished. You always excitedly told him every single one was a masterpiece, and Jungkook only rolled his eyes and made minimal effort at hiding the blush on his cheeks. Your steps falter when you come across a set of photographs in black and white, set in consecutive frames next to each other and it feels so warm despite the lack of color. Jungkook just had that special talent when it came to photography.
It’s the bookstore. In the city during the impromptu train ride you had coerced him to take. Your heart catches in your throat as you recognize all the other ones immediately because well...you’ve been to all those spots. A familiar pressure builds in the back of your eyes, and you swallow down a whimper of pain.
The urge to leave becomes too strong. But not strong enough to quell the slow burn of curiosity from Professor Sejin. There is a chance that you might not run into Jungkook at all tonight with the vast space and people bumbling through the corridors. It hurts to think that you might never see him again at all, but you’ll allow yourself another indulgence. Something is calling you.
Moon. He titled it Moon? You grip onto your wrist reflexively and run your thumb over the mark, like you did when you were younger and still had hope for soulmates. The pulsepoint there beats under your finger and lets you know how alive you are. Compels you to give into your curiosity, even if it might decimate your already crumbling heart. The stairs that lead up to the second floor are short, but the trek feels like it knocks the wind out of you, or perhaps that was just the anticipation of what was waiting for you on the other side.
You were right to be scared. Because right in the smack dab center of the circular room is where you see it, and your gasp is one that can be heard from each wall and corner.
A painting of you. A portrait from the waist up, with oil paint and so much detail, Jungkook has even managed to line the shallow wrinkles by your eyes when you smile. You have never considered yourself beautiful in any sense but the way he has captured you on canvas starts to make you believe that you truly are. You feel Jungkook in each streak of the brushstroke where he hadn’t spread the color evenly. It is as if the painting is alive, and though you are staring at yourself, it doesn’t feel like the way it does in the mirror. Doesn’t feel like a reflection.
No, this feels like looking through Jungkook’s eyes. It is what he sees in you, rather than what you see in yourself. And what he sees is beautiful. Through the haze of shock and confusion as to why he chose this as the centerpiece, you don’t notice the warm presence that lurks behind you. The one that has watched your every move since you walked into this building.
“Yeah, that’s my favorite one too.”
You whip your head around so quick it nearly gives you whiplash, but the sight of him is the nail in the coffin. Jungkook is cleaned up in a black suit, and an unfamiliar smile on his lips he rarely lets you see. A genuine one that he’s tried to hide so many times but now that it’s clear and up close, you resent him for keeping it from you.
Jungkook is just as gorgeous as the day you lost him.
But looking at him hurts. You don’t know why you’re even here, and why he sent the invitation, or why he was standing in front of you now and there is not a sliver of antipathy in his eyes. You don’t know why your face is plastered in the center of the gallery. Most of all, you don’t know why you are still weak in the knees for Jeon Jungkook.
“Although, I have to say, it was a close race between this one and the pictures I made you take at the lake, when you nearly dunked me in the river because it was so cold”, he breathily laughs but you aren’t able to get through the shock just yet. If Jungkook notices your starstruck state, he doesn’t let it affect him.
“And I definitely have to give some credit to the one I painted after you told me about your dream”, Jungkook prattles on, “where you were a mermaid who planted peaches under the sea, remember? That’s an honorable mention.”
These memories make you want to smile but in this moment, the best you can do is try to hold yourself together when your eyes begin to warm with tears. Jungkook stays silent when you do. He notices you haven’t said a word and your gaze refuses to meet his.
“Why are you doing this, Jungkook?”, you curse yourself when your voice cracks. “Why are you telling me these things? Haven’t you hurt me enough?” Jungkook’s smile drops off his face, and for once, you can see your own pain reflected in his eyes.
He takes a deep breath, hands hanging limply at his side that itch to wrap themselves around yours. To feel your skin. Feel your mark.
“I…”, he hesitates in his words, “I remember that day every night when I go to sleep, Y/N. Every time I shut my eyes, I just see your face when I told you I can’t love you, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt such aching before. Not even when she left me.” Jungkook’s voice is tinted with desperation but it just makes your walls rise higher.
He’s lying to you. Your tongue wants to protest, but he continues.
“I see you in everything”, Jungkook breathes out, like he is also admitting it to himself.
“The paintbrushes I can never put down to the black coffee I force myself to drink nowadays because the ones I actually like, the ones with too much whipped cream and vanilla syrup, just reminds me of you.” His brows are knitted, and his feet vie to step closer to your quivering form. But you look like a caged animal about to bolt at any moment.
“And when I’m reminded of you, I am reminded of…”, he gulps down the fear, “I’m reminded of how I am utterly in love with someone who deserves so much more than what I have put them through.”
The blood that runs through your veins drops to subzero temperatures, and you swear in the split millisecond that you have absorbed what he’s just said, your heart ceases its beating. The world stops turning, and the waves still for a brief moment. You can’t find any words just yet, but Jungkook can see straight through you and your stupefied expression.
“Y-you’re lying to me, Jungkook. Stop lying.”
“I’m not lying, please…” Jungkook knows he’s losing you by the second, but he’s promised you he would persist. He just wants you to listen. Wants you to feel how sorry he is, and how his soul screams to be next to your’s.
“I can’t explain how it happened. Like it was an epiphany. Like someone has been screaming at me and I had been ignoring them, and that someone was my own heart.” Jungkook doesn’t stumble over his words once. He does not stutter because it is the plain white truth.
“Stop, Jungkook.”
“It’s been knocking on the door of my chest and when I finally let it in, it just yells and shouts ‘oh my god, you’re in love’ and then I realized oh my god, i’m in love. In between painting you and convincing myself that soulmates meant nothing to me, I’ve completely and unquestionably fallen in love with you, Y/N.”
Jungkook can’t decipher the look on your face. Something between the lines of disbelief and heartbreak, and it makes him want to split at the seams at the pain he’s put you through. How he’s convinced you you’re impossible to love. He vows to make it right again.
“Jungkook-”
“And you’re wrong, you know. You’re not hard to love. Hell, I was dead set on never loving again and you managed to make me so smitten, I can’t paint or draw a damn thing without including some aspect of you in it.” Jungkook steps back and gestures to all the canvases and photos that hang on the wall.
“Take a look around, Y/N. It’s all you. Every piece.” Once he says it, you finally notice Every piece of art in this room can be traced to you, or a memory you two share. It’s so clear, you don’t know how you missed it before. You feel yourself in the art Jungkook has poured his soul into. Instead of making you feel elated, these words that you’ve been waiting your entire life to hear just ignites the sting.
“Just stop. Please.” It is only a weak whisper through your lips, and he ignores it.
“If you can’t forgive me, I get it Y/N. I can’t forgive myself either. But can you just know that you are enough. You are more than what I deserve. And I know you told me to be happy, but there is no way I can possibly do that without you.”
When your gaze falls to the floor, you notice that his wrist is clean of any bracelets or watches. Come to think of it, this is one of the first times you are seeing it clear and in the flesh. Jungkook doesn’t tell you, but nowadays, he doesn’t allow anything to impede on the sight of the crescent moon.
When your guard is down and you are distracted, he finds the perfect time to finally reach forward and take your hand in his. His touch is gentle when it wraps around your wrist, tugging off the ribbon that circled it, and revealing the matching mark. Your pulse jumps under his fingers, and skips a beat when he runs a thumb over the moon. You are already melting with such simple contact, and you almost allow yourself to succumb. Almost.
It’s as if suddenly his skin was scalding, and you snatch your wrist from his grasp at lightning speed. The tears that have strayed down your face are wiped away as quickly as they came. The surprise on his face is missed by your eyes because before he can comprehend what is happening, you are bolting down the staircase and out the glass doors of the gallery. No, you cannot forgive him yet. What would you do if he hurt you again? You don’t think you would survive.
You ignore the pain of seeing his art pieces as you run, now that you know you are the muse behind them all. The only noise is the sound of blood rushing in your ears, and you are oblivious to the racket of Jungkook’s shoes clapping against marble flooring as he chases after you, expertly dodging the other patrons and butlers holding trays of champagne.
And Jungkook? Well, he is oblivious to the complete turmoil that runs through your every nerve. He only sees your back, and not the way you bite your lip painfully to keep the sobs from escaping. Not the way your pain is exhibited clear as day in the crease of your eyebrow and the wrinkle of your nose.
The air outside is so cold it bites at your nostrils, but makes it easier to breathe. The wind calms the thundering heart in your chest.
He must be lying. There was no way he had a change of heart now, not when he was so rooted in his belief before. There is no virtual possibility, on any plane of existence, on any dimension where Jeon Jungkook has fallen in love with you.
Right?
The hand that circles around your wrist tightly to keep you from getting any farther tells you that you are wrong. He did come after you. Jungkook’s strength forces you to stop running, but you can’t find the courage to turn around and face him just yet. But you don’t make an effort to pull away, and he takes it as progress.
“You can run if you want, Y/N. You can walk away from me and from us, but don’t doubt that I’ll always be chasing after you. For as long as it takes.” He is panting and speaking through heavy breaths, but you hear him. Loud and clear.
“I won’t let you leave again. Not like last time.”
There is no malice. No coldness, and for the first time since you’ve met him, his words feel like warm honey instead of monotone ice. He is utterly distraught when you turn around slowly, hesitant like you’re afraid he will break your heart right then and there.
His heart shatters at the wetness at your waterline, and the way you look up at him; completely vulnerable and scared.
“Do you promise?”
There is a lot of weight in your three-word question. It’s not as innocent as meets the eye, and Jungkook knows it. He feels it. When you ask him if he promises, it is an invitation back to you. You are offering him your heart, which he has already broken and bruised, and trusting him to be careful with it this time around. Jungkook already knows he loves you. And if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure this promise remains unbroken.
“I promise.”
It’s a commitment. One he used to be terrified of making, but it seems so easy when it’s for you.
And when you fly forward to wrap your arms around him, Jungkook feels like home. Like the stars twinkle a little brighter and the earth stops spinning for a mere second, just for the two of you. You feel him squeeze you closer, just as tightly, and Jungkook wants to kick himself for depriving you both of a simple thing called love.
You are here, souls and now bodies intertwined, and Jungkook lets the pain of past hurt fall away. Pain is so miniscule when you are by his side. When you pull back, Jungkook frowns at your red-rimmed eyes, and the tears that still persist. He wipes it away oh so softly, as if you were delicate clay and he, a sculptor.
“Please don’t cry anymore, princess, it breaks my heart. I’m so sorry.” It is the softest, most sugary tone you’ve ever heard out of him. But hearing affection from his lips makes you feel that perhaps all of this sorrow, this longing, has been worth it. He has been worth it. He always has.
“I love you, Y/N.” Jungkook’s words are almost as beautiful as he is.
His lips are familiar when you lean forward and kiss him. Yet they are different. This time, the hands on your waist hold you a bit more carefully, even closer if that were possible. You can feel his thudding heart as it beats against your own, learning to match rhythms with each other, and Jungkook cradles your face in his hand like you are the only artwork he has truly been proud of.
And it’s true. All the canvases and paints and camera film seem wasted now. Nothing he ever makes will be quite as alluring as the art he holds in his arms in this moment.
“I love you too, you goddamn idiot.”
You meant it all those months ago, and you mean it now. If Jeon Jungkook was the sun, you would gladly change your name to Icarus. If Jeon Jungkook was the moon, then you are the tides that he pushes and pulls. If Jeon Jungkook belonged to you, well...you don’t have to imagine that anymore. He is your’s, as you are his.
Old habits die hard, but they are not immortal. They wax and wane, and remind you that in the cosmic vastness of things, you are only human. Humans whose hearts beat in tandem and souls made to complete the other. Humans with identical crescent moons, lost but now found.
Old habits die hard. But you have learned to fix those of a broken heart.
☾
#btsguild#jeon jungkook x reader#bts angst#bts fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook#bts fanfiction#bts soulmate au#bts enemies to lovers#bts reader insert#thoabh#bts imagine#bts scenarios#jungkook imagine#bts one shot#jungkook one shot#jungkook soulmate au#jungkook reader insert#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfiction
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💘Astro Observations/Notes since Valentine's Day is around the corner💘
Disclaimer: It may or may not resonate on you. This is all just based on my observation on the people around me and researches. I am not a professional astrologer. This is just for entertainment and always remember that Astrology isn’t set in stone. We have free will. Keep safe everyone💘💋
P.s: this is kinda long. Anyways have fun!
💘 Venus square Saturn aspect in composite or synastry is often labeled as a red alert or a very bad aspect to have. Well it is, but if they have it on their natal as an aspect they can actually feel home.
Also, with this aspect, there is something that keeps you away from being with each other whether it's distance, unaccepted cultural beliefs, living at great distance (LDR) or like the other one (Saturn) holds the Venus back in fear of losing her/him (Venus)
But I do observed that some hard aspects on Saturn is very common in married couples. Since like what they've said, Saturn is the glue. But since it's in hard aspect, it'll be harder unlike when it is aspected positively (sextile, trine)
💘 Sun square Venus: Learning how to accept and appreciate your differences
💘 Venus square Venus: Beautiful Differences. I think it’s not that bad to have this aspect on synastry especially if both individuals are open minded and are willing to work things out. Your wants, or desires on relationship may not be the same or similar since your Venuses square each other. Learn to find a common ground.
💘 Moon sextile/trine Moon: Emotional Connection you are aware of each other’s feelings and you are able to connect on emotional level very well.
💘 Since 12th house is the house of secrets, and hidden enemies, having 12th house overlays can indicate of secret relationship (keeping the relationship secret from public or family) or you just tend to be private about your relationship but on the positive side having 12th house overlays with someone can indicate a deep psychic and spiritual bond with them. The relationship can be very intuitive and they're in tuned about your feelings.
💘 It is said that 5th house in Pisces is= Forbidden Love, probably because of age difference, different cultural beliefs, race, taboos, or family circumstances. A person with this placement can often fall for a wrong person or like unavailable one, foreigners etc.
💘 10th house overlay is good for couple who likes to go on public or like work together. Since 10th house rules your goals, ambitions, direction, and public life in synastry or composite mainly on composite it can show how the both of you present or work together.
💘 I prefer 9th house and 11th house where the people with this overlay see each other as best friends and can go to numerous adventures together without thinking twice.
💘 Jupiter in 11th house composite may indicate that the couple have mutual friends.
💘 Lilith in 3rd house synastry/composite might do dirty talking to each other often or get turned on by just talking to each other.
💘 Mars in the 1st house synastry makes the Mars person as the aggressor when it comes to sex like its all about "me" type. Since house 1 rules ourselves.
💘 4th house overlay is cute, since you feel home with the house person or the other way round but it can also indicate laziness and over indulgence on affection and coziness if there's a lot of 4th house overlay. This overlay is like parent-child relationship
💘 Saturn in 7th house is good for longevity, I honestly like this overlay over other overlays in synastry
💘 Venus Aquarius are very loyal once they're fully committed I dunno why people stereotypes this Venus sign as very flighty and non committal. Well, there is a high chance of flightiness at the beginning, that is part of Aquarius like going MIA time to time if they don’t like the person or if they are testing someone, but once they've found the "ONE" and they're really down on that person, they commit they may go MIA sometimes, but that doesn't mean that their feelings are flighty or unstable.
💘 Idk but I feel like Capricorn sun/moon/Venus/mars or Capricorn stellium are sexy and alluring maybe because of their bone structure that stands out.
💘 Scorpio rising woman can be a bit submissive into his man if she truly loves him. I also observe that they're really good at staring. It's not the creepy stalker stare (well sometimes it is) but like stare of observation or admiration. Like if they like someone, they will 100% confidently stare at that person.
💘 Also it is known that Scorpio risings have magnificent eyes that can capture or like melt everyone, but have you seen them staring with like heart eyes? It's full of admiration and passion and you can feel it piercing your heart (in a good way)
💘 Capricorn placements hates faking. You'll know if they're happy, sad, sick, irritated, angry, if they like you or not, they will always show it.
💘 I don't know but I'm not a huge fan of 7th house overlay. Except for Saturn. Well it's essential at marriage like what they've said, its also the house of enemies. So be careful.
💘 Virgos actually have a freaking high standards. Most Virgos that I know are single for a very very long time and others doesn’t even dated for ones since they have high standards.
💘 Like what @hillarysss has said on her/his observation, Virgos are tall and slim. I agree 100% well it may not resonate to others, nevertheless, they look like a fcking model ㅠㅠ
💘 Everyone’s talking about how sexy and hot/have a high sex drive Mars in Scorpio are but I personally think that Mars in Aries are more fiery when it comes to sex bonus if it’s on 5th house.
💘 It is said that air and fire mercuries are the most chatterbox but have you seen them when they're alone and not lighting up the mood? They're a miser. Specifically Sagittarius.
CREDITS TO: @amazingwriter101
#astrology#scorpio rising#astro observation#astro notes#capricorn#composite chart#mars in 5th#mars#virgo#venus#aquarius venus#synastry#astro post
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once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train
like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.
AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??
Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)
(ominous preview)
These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS
a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?
I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL
A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.
b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~
c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?
@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.
I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.
d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?
god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.
But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.
My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.
e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?
@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.
f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?
Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...
I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.
If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.
Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.
Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.
Some more general art questions
a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?
I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.
1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.
2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.
Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.
oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!
b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?
Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.
If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.
Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.
I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.
for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ
For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.
(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)
a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!
b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL
c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)
a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....
e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)
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i watched red vs blue: zero with my dear friends today and i was asked to “post” my “thoughts” on the subject. Please do not click this readmore unless, for some reason, you want to read three thousand words on the subject of red vs blue: zero critical analysis. i highly doubt that’s the reason anyone is following me, but hey.
anyway. here you have it.
Here are my opinions on RVB0 as someone who has quite literally no nostalgia for any older RVB content. I’ve seen seasons 1-13 once and bits and pieces of it more than once here and there, but I only saw it for the first time within the past couple of months. I’ve literally never seen any other RT/AH content. I can name a few people who worked on OG Red vs. Blue but other than Mounty Oum I have NO idea who is responsible for what, really, or what anything else they’ve ever worked on is, or whether or not they’re awful people. I know even less about the people making RVB0 - All I know is that the main writer is named Torrian but I honestly don’t even know if that’s a first name, a last name, or a moniker. All this to say; nothing about my criticism is rooted in any perceived slight against the franchise or branding by the new staff members, because I don’t know or care about any of it. In fact, I’m going to try and avoid any direct comparison between RVB0 and earlier seasons of RVB as a means of critique until the very end, where I’ll look at that relationship specifically.
So here is my opinion of RVB0 as it stands right now:
1. The Writing
Everything about RVB0 feels as if it was written by a first-time writer who hasn’t learned to kill his darlings. The narrative is both simultaneously far too full, leaving very little breathing room for character interaction, and oddly sparse, with a story that lacks any meaningful takeaway, interesting ideas, or genuine emotional connection. It also feels like it’s for a very much younger audience - I don’t mean this as a negative at all. I love tv for kids. I watch more TV for kids than I do for adults, mostly, but I think it’s important to address this because a lot of the time ‘this is for kids’ is used to act like you’re not allowed to critique a narrative thoroughly. It definitely changes the way you critique it, but the critique can still be in good faith. I watched the entirety of RVB0 only after it was finished, in one sitting, and I was giving it my full attention, essentially like it was a movie. I’m going to assume it was much better to watch in chunks, because as it stood, there was literally no time built into the narrative to process the events that had just transpired, or try and predict what events might be coming in the future. When there’s no time to think about the narrative as you’re watching it, the narrative ends up as being something that happens to the audience, not something they engage with. It’s like the difference between taking notes during a lecture or just sitting and listening. If you’re making no attempt to actively process what’s happening, it doesn’t stick in your mind well. I found myself struggling to recall the events and explanations that had immediately transpired because as soon as one thing had happened, another thing was already happening, and it was like a mental juggling act to try and figure out which information was important enough to dwell on in the time we were given to dwell on it.
Which brings me to another point - pacing. Every event in the show, whether a character moment, a plot moment, or a fight scene, felt like it was supposed to land with almost the exact same amount of emotional weight. It all felt like The Most Important Thing that had Yet Happened. And I understand that this is done as an attempt to squeeze as much as possible out of a rather short runtime, but it fundamentally fails. When everything is the most important thing happening, it all fades into static. That’s what most of 0’s narrative was to me: static. It’s only been a few hours since I watched it but I had to go step by step and type out all of the story beats I could remember and run it by my friends who are much more enthusiastic RVB fans than I am to make sure I hadn’t missed or forgotten anything. I hadn’t, apparently, but the fact that my takeaway from the show was pretty accurate and also disappointingly lackluster says a lot. Strangely enough, the most interesting thing the show alluded to - a holo echo, or whatever the term they used was - was one of the things least extrapolated upon in the show’s incredibly bulky exposition. Benefit of the doubt says that’s something they’ll explore in future seasons (are they getting more? Is that planned? I just realized I don’t actually know.)
And bulky it was! I have quite honestly never seen such flagrant disregard for the rule of “show, don’t tell.” There was not a single ounce of subtlety or implication involved in the storytelling of RVB0. Something was either told to you explicitly, or almost entirely absent from the narrative. Essentially zilch in between. We are told the dynamic the characters have with each other, and their personality pros and cons are listed for us conveniently by Carolina. The plot develops in exposition dumps. This is partially due to the series’ short runtime, but is also very much a result of how that runtime was then used by the writers. They sacrificed a massive chunk of their show for the sake of cramming in a ton of fight scenes, and if they wanted to keep all of those fight scenes, it would have been necessary to pare down their story and characters proportionally in comparison, but they didn’t do that either. They wanted to have it both ways and there simply wasn’t enough time for it.
The story itself is… uninteresting. It plays out more like the flimsy premise of a video game quest rather than a piece of media to be meaningfully engaged with. RVB0 is I think something I would be pitched by a guy who thinks the MCU and BNHA are the best storytelling to come out of the past decade. It is nothing but tropes. And I hate having to use this as an insult! I love tropes. The worst thing about RVB0 is that nothing it does is wholly unforgivable in its own right. Hunter x Hunter, a phenomenal shonen, is notoriously filled with pages upon pages of detailed exposition and explanations of things, and I absolutely love it. Leverage, my favorite TV show of all time, is literally nothing but a five man band who has to learn to work as a team while seemingly systematically hitting a checklist of every relevant trope in the book. Pacific Rim is an incredibly straightforward good guys vs giant monsters blockbuster to show off some cool fight scenes such as a big robot cutting an alien in half with a giant sword, and it’s some of the most fun I ever have watching a movie. Something being derivative, clunky, poorly executed in some specific areas, narratively weak, or any single one of these flaws, is perfectly fine assuming it’s done with the intention and care that’s necessary to make the good parts shine more. I’ll forgive literally any crime a piece of media commits as long as it’s interesting and/or enjoyable to consume. RVB0 is not that. I’m not sure what the main point of RVB0 was supposed to be, because it seemingly succeeds at nothing. It has absolutely nothing new or innovative to justify its lack of concern for traditional storytelling conventions. Based solely on the amount of screentime things were given, I’d be inclined to say the narrative existed mostly to give flimsy pretense for the fight scenes, but that’s an entire other can of worms.
2. The Visuals + Fights
I have no qualms with things that are all style and no substance. Sometimes you just want to see pretty colors moving on the screen for a while or watch some cool bad guys and monsters or whatever get punched. RVB0 was not this either. The show fundamentally lacked a coherent aesthetic vision. Much of the show had a rather generic sci-fi feel to it with the biggest standouts to this being the very noir looking cityscape, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like something from a batman game, or the temple, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like a world of warcraft raid. They were obviously attempting to get variety in their environment design, which I appreciate, but they did this without having a coherent enough visual language to feel like it was all part of the same world. In general, there was also just a lack of visual clarity or strong shots. The value range in any given scene was poor, the compositions and framing were functional at best, and the character animation was unpleasantly exaggerated. It just doesn’t really look that good beyond fancy rendering techniques.
The fight scenes are their entire own beast. Since ‘FIGHT SCENE’ is the largest single category of scenes in the show, they definitely feel worth looking at with a genuine critical eye. Or, at least, I’d like to, but honestly half the time I found myself almost unable to look at them. The camera is rarely still long enough to really enjoy what you’re watching - tracking the motion of the character AND the camera at such constant breakneck high speeds left little time to appreciate any nuances that might have been present in the choreography or character animation. I tried, believe me, I really did, but the fight scenes leave one with the same sort of dizzy convoluted spectacle as a Michael Bay transformers movie. They also really lacked the impact fight scenes are supposed to have.
It’s hard to have a good, memorable fight scene without it doing one of three things: 1. Showing off innovative or creative fighting styles and choreography 2. Making use of the fight’s setting or environment in an engaging and visually interesting way or 3. Further exploring a character’s personality or actions by the way they fight. It’s also hard to do one of these things on its own without at least touching a bit on the other two. For the most part, I find RVB0’s fight scenes fail to do this. Other than rather surface level insubstantial factors, there was little to visually distinguish any of RVB0’s fight scenes from each other. Not only did I find a lot of them difficult to watch and unappealing, I found them all difficult to watch and unappealing in an almost identical way. They felt incredibly interchangeable and very generic. If you could take a fight scene and change the location it was set and also change which characters were participating and have very little change, it’s probably not a good fight scene.
I think “generic” is really just the defining word of RVB0 and I think that’s also why it falls short in the humor department as well.
3. The Comedy
Funny shit is hard to write and humor is also incredibly subjective but I definitely got almost no laughs out of RVB0. I think a total of three. By far the best joke was Carolina having a cast on top of her armor, which, I must stress, is an incredibly funny gag and I love it. But overall I think the humor fell short because it felt like it was tacked on more than a natural and intentional part of this world and these characters. A lot of the jokes felt like they were just thrown in wherever they’d fit, without any build up to punchlines and with little regard for what sort of joke each character would make. Like, there was some, obviously Raymond’s sense of humor had the most character to it, but the character-oriented humor still felt very weak. When focusing on character-driven humor, there’s a LOT you can establish about characters based on what sort of jokes they choose to make, who they’re picking as the punchlines of these jokes, and who their in-universe audience for the jokes is. In RVB0, the jokes all felt very immersion-breaking and self aware, directed wholly towards the audience rather than occurring as a natural result of interplay between the characters. This is partially due to how lackluster the character writing was overall, and the previously stated tight timing, but also definitely due to a lack of a real understanding about what makes a joke land.
A rule of thumb I personally hold for comedy is that, when push comes to shove, more specific is always going to be more funny. The example I gave when trying to explain this was this:
saying two characters had awkward sex in a movie theater: funny
saying two characters had an awkward handjob in a cinemark: even funnier
saying two characters spent 54 minutes of 11:14's 1:26 runtime trying out some uncomfortably-angled hand stuff in the back of a dilapidated cinemark that lost funding halfway through retrofitting into a dinner theater: the funniest
The more specific a joke is, the more it relies on an in-depth understanding of the characters and world you’re dealing with and the more ‘realistic’ it feels within the context of your media. Especially with this kind of humor. When you’re joking with your friends, you don’t go for stock-humor that could be pulled out of a joke book, you go for the specific. You aim for the weak spots. If a set of jokes could be blindly transplanted into another world, onto another cast of characters, then it’s far too generic to be truly funny or memorable. I don’t think there’s a single joke in RVB0 where the humor of it hinged upon the characters or the setting.
Then there’s the issue of situational comedy and physical comedy. This is really where the humor being ‘tacked on’ shows the most. Once again, part of what makes actually solid comedy land properly is it feeling like a natural result of the world you have established. Real life is absurd and comical situations can be found even in the midst of some pretty grim context, and that’s why black comedy is successful, and why comedy shows are allowed to dip into heavier subject matter from time to time, or why dramas often search for levity in humor. It’s a natural part of being human to find humor in almost any situation. The key thing, though, once again, is finding it in the situation. Many of RVB0’s attempts at humor, once again, feel like they would be the exact same jokes when stripped from their context, and that’s almost never good. A pretty fundamental concept in both storytelling in general but particularly comedy writing is ‘setup and payoff’. No joke in RVB0 is a reward for a seemingly innocuous event in an earlier scene or for an overlooked piece of environmental design. The jokes pop in when there’s time for them in between all the exposition and fighting, and are gone as soon as they’re done. There’s no long term, underlying comedic throughline to give any sense of coherence or intent to the sense of humor the show is trying to establish. Every joke is an isolated one-off quip or one-liner, and it fails to engage the audience in a meaningful way.
All together, each individual component of RVB0 feels like it was conjured up independently, without any concern to how it interacted with the larger product they were creating. And I think this is really where it all falls apart. RVB0 feels criminally generic in a way reminiscent of mass-market media which at least has the luxury of attributing these flaws, this complete and total watering down of anything unique, to heavy oversight and large teams with competing visions. But I don’t think that’s the case for RVB0. I don’t know much about what the pipeline is like for this show, but I feel like the fundamental problem it suffers from is a lack of heart.
In comparison to Red vs. Blue
Let's face it. This is a terrible successor to Red vs. Blue. I wouldn’t care if NONE of the old characters were in it - that’s not my problem. I haven’t seen past season 13 because from what I heard the show already jumped the shark a bit and then some. That’s not what makes it a poor follow up. What makes it a bad successor is that it fundamentally lacks any of the aspects of the OG RVB that made it unique or appealing at all. I find myself wondering what Torrian is trying to say with RVB0 and quite literally the only answer I find myself falling back onto is that he isn’t trying to say anything at all. Regardless of what you feel about the original RVB, it undeniably had things to say. The opening “why are we here” speech does an excellent job at establishing that this is a show intended to poke fun at the misery of bureaucracy and subservience to nonsensical systems, not just in the context of military life, but in a very broad-strokes way almost any middle-class worker can relate to. At the end of the day, fiction is at its best when it resonates with some aspect of its audience’s life. I know instantly which parts of the original Red vs Blue I’m supposed to relate to. I can’t say anything even close to that about 0.
RVB is an absurdist parody that heavily satirizes aspects of the military and life as a low-on-the-food-chain worker in general that almost it’s entire target audience will be familiar with. The most significant draw of the show to me was how the dialogue felt like listening to my friends bicker with each other in our group chats. It required no effort for me to connect with and although the narrative never outright looked to the camera and explained ‘we are critiquing the military’s stupid red tape and self-fullfilling eternal conflict’ they didn’t need to, because the writing trusted itself and its audience enough to believe this could be conveyed. It is, in a way, the complete antithesis to the badass superhero macho military man protagonist that we all know so well. RVB was saying something, and it was saying it in a rather novel format.
Nothing about RVB0 is novel. Nothing about RVB0 says anything. Nothing about it compels me to relate to any of these characters or their situations. RVB0 doesn’t feel like absurdism, or satire. RVB0 feels like it is, completely uncritically, the exact media that RVB itself was riffing off of. Both RVB0 and RVB when you watch them give you the feeling that what you’re seeing here is kids on a playground larping with toy soldiers. It’s all ridiculous and over the top cliche stupid garbage where each side is trying to one-up the other. The critical difference is, in RVB, we’re supposed to look at this and laugh at how ridiculous this is. In RVB0 we’re supposed to unironically think this is all pretty badass.
The PFL arc of the original RVB existed to show us that setting up an elite team of supersoldiers with special powers was something done in bad faith, with poor outcomes, that left everyone involved either cruel, damaged, or dead. It was a bad thing. And what we’re seeing in RVB0 is the same premise, except, this time it’s good. We’re supposed to root for this format. RVB0 feels much more like a demo reel, cutscenes from a video game that doesn’t exist, or a shonen anime fanboy’s journal scribbling than it feels like a piece of media with any objective value in any area. In every area that RVB was anti-establishment, RVB0 is pure undiluted establishment through and through.
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Kiro’s Chanting Praise Date Translation [CN]
Hi, everyone! Just a couple of notes before you begin reading. I don’t actually know Chinese so this translation was done through the power of Google Translate and with help from @keliosyfan. Thank you! 💛
The translation below contains spoilers for a date not yet released in the ENG server so please don’t look below the cut if you don’t want to be spoiled.
You can read the call that comes before the date here!~
Hope you enjoy!~
*Spoilers for future content below!*
In the depths of the Golden Palace, there is a silver-haired prince.
His palace gate is always shut and no one can enter
His figure is covered by shadows and he has never seen the sun.
His voice was cursed by a demon and could not be heard.
Guard: Find him!!
Guard: Where did he go?
Disharmonious sounds suddenly sounded in the lively market. The sound of footsteps hurriedly came from afar, arousing the curiosity of the vendors.
The guards were fierce-looking. They were wielding scimitars and looked as though they were searching for someone. One of the guards walked up to me and looked me up and down a few times.
Guard: Hey, woman.
Guard: Did you see a kid in a cloak passing by?
MC: No. I’ve been here the whole time and haven’t seen any strange people.
MC: Has the kid in question committed anything?
Guard: Humph, just a little mouse that sneaked into our master’s house!
Guard: I’ll ask you again, are you sure you haven’t seen this person? If you dare to lie….
He raised the sharp scimitar as he spoke. I couldn’t help but shrink back as I tried to keep my voice calm.
MC: I would never dare to lie to the great Lord Jinsha. I really haven’t seen this person.
MC: You can prove it by asking the person next to you!
The guard looked around. As expected, the other vendors waved to him and said that they hadn’t seen him. He snorted angrily.
Guard: Since you haven’t seen him, don’t get in the way!
The guard pushed me against the wall and ran to the other end of the alley.
After watching the family members disappear, I quietly patted the big wooden basket behind me.
MC: Alright, it’s ok to come out.
??: ….!
The wooden basket shook slightly and the straw on top was pushed aside by a slender hand, revealing messy blond hair under the cloak and a pair of bright blue eyes.
The blond kid poked out half of his head and looked side to side before smiling up at me.
MC: Don’t worry, no one ratted you out.
The vendors all around showed friendly smiles to the kid. He pulled off his mask in relief.
The kid jumped out of the wooden basket swiftly and gave me a brilliant smile.
??: But you are the one I should be most grateful for!
??: My name is Kiro. What about you?
MC: My name is MC.
Kiro: MC….
He said my name again and nodded.
Kiro: Well, I’ll remember your name and I will repay you in the future!
He said this as he put on his cloak. As he was about to leave, I grabbed his wrist.
MC: I don’t want it in the future. Can you do me a favour now? I need it quickly!
I hurriedly spoke, not letting Kiro have the chance to refuse me.
MC: Didn’t you get chased by a guard because you snaked into the mansion of Lord Jinsha?
MC: Then you can probably tell me, did you see a travelling artist like me in it?
Kiro looked at me with a slightly surprised expression.
Kiro: Travelling artist? Is there something wrong with them?
MC: They….
MC: It’s too hard to talk here. Come with me.
I looked around vigilantly, put on my veil, and beckoned to Kiro.
Passing through the alleys, the hustle and bustle gradually grew farther and farther.
I led Kiro through the city and finally stopped in front of a travelling artist’s caravan.
MC: This is my home.
MC: I am a dancer in a travelling theatre troupe. Some time ago, I passed by here from Wangcheng to make a living in the market.
MC: Half a month ago, our theatre troupe was summoned by Lord Jinsha for a dinner performance.
MC: The people at the market all advised us not to go, saying that many others were recruited by him before. They never showed up again.
MC: But we didn’t dare defy him. I was the only one that didn’t attend as I suddenly fell ill that day but the others went.
MC: After that day…. my companions disappeared.
Kiro: They didn’t come back?
MC: Well, the caravan and luggage are still here so it would’ve been impossible for them to leave.
MC: Kiro, do you think they will be sold as slaves as the rumours say?....
Kiro: Don’t be too scared. Actually, time moved really quickly just now and I only searched part of the mansion when I snuck in.
Kiro: Maybe your companions are staying in other rooms and I just didn’t get to see them?
MC: Even so….
Kiro’s comfort only slightly soothed my anxiety. However, an even greater worry was still surging in my heart. I sighed.
MC: Alas….if there is any way to save them, it would be great.
Kiro: I have a solution, wanna try?
Kiro: Actually, I was um…. a spy and took a job. So, I had to sneak into the mansion of Lord Jinsha to investigate.
Kiro: I was discovered by a guard at that moment which caused me to fail my mission. I'm thinking of how to get in again.
Kiro: At this time, let’s cooperate and pretend to be a pair of travelling artists.
Kiro: I will be the singer and you will be the dancer! To tell you the truth, I can sing very well!
Kiro looked excited, but, how could a spy be a good singer? I shook my head.
MC: It’s not that easy. I heard that Lord Jinsha’s ears are very particular and that it’s hard for ordinary singers to be liked by him….
My hesitation was interrupted by Kiro’s singing.
The moment the first note was sung by him, my eyes widened.
Kiro sang the simplest but cheerful melody. His voice was very low, his words very casual.
But such easy-going singing has surpassed all the singers I have ever heard.
It seems that he isn’t standing in front of a messy caravan but rather a lively banquet. And in that banquet, he is the focus.
The last lyrics left his mouth and Kiro winked at me and my stunned face.
Kiro: Would you like to cooperate with me now, little dancer?
[Second Part]
My cooperation with Kiro is going extremely smoothly.
In just ten days, our travelling act had gained fame in the city.
Most of this fame was because of Kiro.
For some reason, no matter how simple the ballads that are sung by him seem to have colours, pictures, and smells.
Whenever he plunged into the world of music, he would inexplicably reveal a lonely and noble breath.
People wanted to get close but they didn’t dare to do so.
MC: Sometimes I think you really don’t look like a spy….
Kiro: Wait, what are you talking about?
MC: Nothing! I mean you sing so nicely. I wouldn’t be tired of hearing it even if I listened for a hundred years!
Kiro: A hundred years? I think you could listen to it for a lifetime.
His carefree words made my heart beat faster and my ears became a little hot for some reason. I quickly changed the subject.
MC: We’ve been practicing for a while today. Would you like to take a break and go to the street?
Kiro: Okay. Now that you mention it, I feel a little hungry.
We were going to the market to search for food. When we were passing by the long rows of houses, I suddenly heard sorrowful weeping from one of the houses.
Kiro: ….
Kiro stopped. Looking through the cracks in the dilapidated door curtain, there’s an old woman crying and holding her son.
But her son was unaware of his mother’s grief and his eyes stared up at the ceiling, saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth.
Seeing this scene, I shook my head unbearably.
MC: Another person infected by a strange disease….
MC: Last time we passed by the Royal City, we heard that there were lost souls there.
MC: Who knows when the cure will be found….
Kiro: This is not a natural disease. It’s man-made.
MC: Man-made? How do you know?
Kiro: Uh….
His eyes wandered for a while before he decided to finally answer me.
Kiro: Because….I am a subordinate of the “Silver Prince”. I am investigating this matter under his order.
MC: The silver-haired prince?!
MC: It’s the “spokesperson of the demon” whose voice is cursed in the legend and likes to manipulate others…. *Changed some wording here*
I trailed off the rest of the sentence because I saw Kiro’s face becoming a little pale.
MC: I’m sorry! I forgot that you are his subordinate and shouldn’t say that to him.
Kiro: It’s okay. Do people talk about him like this?
MC: Not really….
MC: Most of the people who say that are big landlords and wealthy merchants like Lord Jinsha and people who followed suit.
Kiro: What about you? What do you think of the silver-haired prince?
MC: Me? I have no idea.
MC: After all, the noble existence of the prince is beyond my knowledge. Why do you ask?
Kiro: Oh….
MC: ….
Did I say something wrong again? Why do I feel that Kiro’s expression seems to be even more disappointed?
Should I just flatter his master?
Thinking of this, I quickly coughed and changed my tune.
MC: But, ah, I think the prince must not be as scary as the legend makes him out to be….
MC: He did send you to investigate the bad guys after all. He must be a very wise prince!
MC: As for the curse, the “spokesperson of the demon”, that must’ve been a rumour spread by others!
MC: I respect him with my heart!
Kiro looked at me and blinked, the corners of his mouth bent upwards uncontrollably.
Kiro: Pff….Hahahaha!
MC: Why are you laughing?
Kiro: Nothing, nothing. When I go back, I will convey your compliments to the prince!
Kiro: When this matter is over, he will definitely reward you greatly. You can make any request.
MC: Really? Then I’ll have to think hard about what reward I want from the prince.
Seeing him happy made me happy. I turned the conversation back to the topic at hand. *Changed some wording*
MC: So, the last time you snuck into Lord Jinsha’s mansion, was it also to investigate this matter?
Kiro nodded.
Kiro: I found an incense with a strange composition in Wangcheng. This incense has a strong aroma and is highly addictive.
Kiro: Long-term exposure will cause people to lose their souls.
Kiro: I tracked it down all the way here and finally found the main supplier of the spice; the so-called “Master of Golden Sand”.
Kiro: But he’s good at covering his tracks. If there is no concrete evidence that he sold it, then it’s difficult to convict him.
Kiro looked back at the small house as he said this, his face contemplative.
MC: Kiro, did you think of something?
Kiro: It’s just a theory that I have that has a few loose ends. It can only be verified after successfully sneaking in.
Kiro and I had a simple meal at the market. On the way back, we suddenly found a circle of people in front of the caravan.
It was Lord Jinsha’s guards.
Kiro and I quickly glanced at each other and then walked towards the caravan together.
Kiro: Is there anything wrong, sir?
Guard: You are the famous artist couple travelling the city recently?
The guard raised his jaw arrogantly.
Guard: Follow us.
(Cut to the mansion)
Dancer: MC, your solo dance is really good! Your footwork is especially light, just like stepping on a cloud!
MC: Haha, thanks for your compliment.
I absent-mindedly exchanged greetings with other travelling artists. However, the big rock in my heart never lightened up.
The evening before yesterday, the guards took us to the mansion of Lord Jinsha. They told us that he would be holding a banquet in two days and we would be the entertainers who will perform for the banquet.
Everything is going according to plan but Kiro and I both felt a little uneasy.
It felt as if we were prey on a cobweb and some kind of behemoth spider was hanging above us, its saliva dripping greedily.
And just two hours ago, Kiro was called away by Lord Jinsha’s guests, saying that he would be performing for their private banquet.
MC: It’s already afternoon, why hasn’t he come back?
Lord Jinsha’s guests must be some domineering bastards. What if they embarrass Kiro?
I was really uneasy. I finally gritted my teeth and slid out while the people by the entrance weren’t paying attention.
The Jinsha mansion is amazingly large with its luxurious gold ornaments and white jade luxuriant flowers. I hid under the shadow of the flowers, looking for the way to the guest house.
Fweet!
There was a sharp whistle from above which made me look upward.
I saw a hawk passing by a low altitude, drawing a sharp arc, and finally flying towards one of the small courtyards.
Is there anyone there?
I silently made my way to where the hawk landed.
As soon as I approached the courtyard, I heard two male voices talking in the pavilion.
??: Jinsha, the old fox, doesn’t answer our calls at all. He just pretends to be stupid whenever he mentions incense.
??: I guess that’s it.
One of the voices is low and strange. And the other….
It’s Kiro.
I carefully plucked the flowering branches and saw the familiar figure not far away.
Kiro had his back to me while leaning leisurely on the soft pillow, playing with a string of jewels in his hands.
On the other side of the pavilion stood a wealthy, middle-aged man who looked at him respectfully.
The hawk was perched on his shoulder, making a gentle cooing sound in his throat.
In the afternoon, the bright light of the scorching sun made his hair gleam and outlined the muscles on his thin waist.
The kid’s expression is arrogant and cold, like a little singer “coerced” over to perform.
If it weren’t for him still wearing that coarse cloth, I would almost think he was the deity who mastered the sun.
The light is dazzling; it’s too bright to look at.
Kiro: He has already discovered that he’s been exposed in Wangcheng’s business network and certainly won’t dare to make a public appearance.
Kiro: Tonight’s banquet, no matter what method you use, you must hold him back. If necessary, you’re allowed to make a little mess.
Wealthy Man: Yes.
Listening to the conversation between the two, there was a buzzing in my head.
Kiro actually planned this banquet? Lord Jinsha’s guests are Kiro’s people?
Isn’t he just a spy? How could he make that wealthy middle-aged man act so respectfully to him?
Before I had time to think more, Kiro seemed to have noticed something and quickly turned his head!
Kiro: Who’s there?!
[Third Part]
Those blue eyes sharply locked onto the flower bush where I was hiding. Knowing that I could no longer hide, I had to laugh out loud.
MC: It’s me.
Kiro: MC? Why are you here?
MC: I….You hadn’t come back after a while….I was worried….
Kiro was startled but the expression of the wealthy man beside him changed.
Wealthy Man: How dare you eavesdrop!-
Kiro: It’s okay, she’s with me.
Kiro interrupted him.
He shook his arm and the hawk flew away from his elbow.
Kiro stood up from the cushion. When he was about to say something, his eyes passed behind me and his pupils shrank.
I didn’t know why he looked like this. When I looked back, I was shocked.
A large number of guards were coming toward us aggressively!
Wouldn’t we be exposed?!
Kiro: Follow me!
Kiro made a decision and stretched out his hand towards me.
I didn’t dare to hesitate. I quickly ran to the other side of the pavilion with him.
Even though Kiro had figured out the layout of the mansion, the sounds of footsteps blocked our escape routes.
Seeing that there was a guard who could find us at just another turn, we couldn’t hide and had to rush into a room next to us.
Unexpectedly, the room was actually a small vault belonging to Lord Jinsha. There was a lot of gold and silver piled up but almost no place to hide.
If you were to take a torch inside, you would easily be able to see our shadows inside!
Kiro: Here, there’s a treasure chest!
Without hesitation, he pushed me into the treasure chest and jumped in after me.
The small treasure chest held the two of us in such a confined space that we had no other choice but to stay close together.
Kiro held the heavy top of the treasure chest with one hand, the slightly rapid breath escaping from his lips fanned onto the tip of my nose. It felt as though it was burning.
The swaying firelight gradually approached and stopped outside the room.
Guard: Where did they go?
Guard: You must kill him immediately after finding him!
The word “kill” made me tremble. Kiro sensed my fear and lightly pressed his large hand on my shoulder.
Kiro: It’s okay.
Just outside the door were the guards walking with the jewels under him. This was a life-or-death situation.
His embrace is so warm; it makes it feel easy to rely on him.
Guard: Over there!-
The yell outside of the door distracted the guard.
The chaotic footsteps gradually disappeared and the two of us let out a sigh of relief. We couldn’t help but look at each other.
With just a glance, my heart skipped a beat and my face flushed uncontrollably.
So close….
It was close enough that I could see the thin layer of sweat on Kiro’s forehead, the worry in his blue eyes, and the suspicious blush creeping up onto the tips of his ears.
MC: I….
Kiro: I….
Kiro and I spoke in unison and closed our mouths unanimously.
Kiro turned his gaze to the side and whispered.
Kiro: They’re gone. Let’s get out of here first.
MC: Ah, okay.
We gently pull ourselves out of the treasure chest and tidy up each other’s messy clothes.
After the crisis, what came to my mind again was self-blame.
On the eve of the banquet, the mansion was in absolute mayhem. Kiro’s plan for next week would definitely be greatly affected.
MC: Sorry, it’s all my fault….
Kiro: You don’t have to blame yourself. They aren’t looking for you.
MC: Huh?
Kiro: I just listened to what that yell was about. “Incense Person”.
MC: Incense person? You mean….
The lost soul incense secretly sold by Lord Jinsha and the travelling artists who were missing….
All sorts of clues flashed through my mind. I blurted out amidst my thoughts.
MC: That’s why he has to recruit so many travelling artists!
MC: Because travelling artists have no designated homes, no one cares if they disappear as they think they just moved on to the next city.
MC: Have my companions also….
Ominous sensations rose from my heart, my hands and feet turned cold.
At this moment, my fingers suddenly stiffened. Kiro shook my hand firmly.
Kiro: Don’t think too much about it.
Kiro: Let’s change our thinking. Since some people who tried the spice were able to escape its effects, it means that they must have been hiding somewhere from Lord Jinsha.
Kiro: We just need to find them and rescue them.
The warmth from his palm calmed my anxiety.
I grinned reluctantly at him and nodded.
Kiro: The banquet is going to start in a bit and the guards should be going to the front area. Let’s take the opportunity to go back.
MC: Okay.
I followed him for two steps out the door before I suddenly felt that something was wrong.
I lowered my head and looked at the floor tiles under my bare feet.
Although these tiles are exactly the same, the sensitivity of my dancer’s feet made me discover an anomaly.
MC: Kiro, the feel of this tile seems to be different from the others.
Kiro: How is it different?
MC: It’s almost like I’m stepping on a cloud….
Kiro’s eyebrows adjusted slightly. He walked to the floor tiles, knelt down, and fumbled with it for a while. He then knocked on the tile.
Kiro: There’s nothing under this tile.
MC: It’s empty?
MC: Could it be that he hid the “Incense Person” underground?
Kiro: It’s very possible. Let’s go down and take a look.
MC: But the banquet is about to begin. What if the guards find out that we are here investigating?
Kiro: But if we find evidence of Lord Jinsha doing terrible things on the down-low, then we won’t have to attend the party.
MC: What you said makes sense!
MC: And he doesn’t deserve to hear your beautiful singing!
Kiro raised his eyebrows when he heard what I said, his eyes bright.
Kiro: Yes. This time, his crime must be completely exposed!
[Fourth Part]
The tile opened downwards, revealing a ruined black passage; it stared at us like an abyss.
Kiro walked in front, holding on to me with one hand and the wall with the other, carefully exploring onward.
After stepping onto the last step around the corner, a light suddenly appeared in front of him.
Kiro: Follow me.
Walking out of the passage, what is presented before us is the underground treasure room of Lord Jinsha!
Boxes of gold and silver, gorgeous jewelry, expensive cloth….
Treasures even rarer than the ones above us are collected in this dark secret room.
It exuded a sparkling light under the flaming glow of the torches.
Kiro probed around and followed the flames. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
Kiro: There is a secret door here!
We rushed to the secret stone door. Upon pushing the door open a crack, a scent of moly and a weird spice came flooding out from it.
Everyone was wearing the costumes they used for their performance but their eyes were glazed over; like a group of dolls at the mercy of others.
Like the lost souls I saw in the slums.
MC: You were right! Everyone is here!
In the depths of the crowds, I suddenly saw my companion!
She seemed to still have some form of consciousness. After hearing what I said, she turned slightly in my direction, showing me a desperate smile.
MC: Ah, come on, Kiro! We have to rescue them!
Kiro: I know. Go and call out for help-
Lord Jinsha: Who do you want to call out for, little mouse?
A voice rang out from behind us; with black malice like a serpent’s message.
Kiro and I turned around suddenly. Lord Jinsha led a large number of guards into the secret room.
He sneered and looked at us; as if he were looking at two dying bugs.
I saw his fat and ugly face. I felt my anger instantly rush to the top of my head.
MC: Why are you doing this to them?!
Lord Jinsha: Why?
Lord Jinsha: As I see it, these travelling artists are the dregs of society and have no value at all.
Lord Jinsha: They should be honoured to try the incense for me.
MC: You-!
Kiro: How could these travelling artists be worthless?
Kiro: They have travelled to many different places, danced and sang, and spread the joy of life to many others.
Kiro: They are truly priceless “golden sands” and treasures in this country.
Kiro: The only one with no value here is you.
Kiro held back some anger in that retort.
Lord Jinsha’s squinted eyes immediately turned to Kiro.
Lord Jinsha: Eh, are you the little mouse that sneaked in some time ago?
Kiro: ….
Lord Jinsha: Mouse, do you think that I don’t know who you are? You are as crazy and ridiculous as your master.
Lord Jinsha: A prince, who’s been locked in a palace all his life, wants to bring me down? You wish!
He waved his hand and the guards behind him lunged at us!
A cold light flashed in an instant, Kiro’s eyes were dazzling. He took me in his arms and spit out two words.
Kiro: Weapons down! *Changed some wording here*
When he finished speaking, the guards in front of him suddenly trembled as if someone had pitched their wrists. Their fingers released the hilts of the scimitars they were holding.
When the scimitars fell to the ground, Kiro kicked a few people out of the way and led me to the door.
Lord Jinsha opened his mouth in disbelief.
Lord Jinsha: Who are you?! Impossible! Don’t you dare try to escape!
The man stepped back suddenly and pulled down a mechanism on the wall!
In an instant, a hole in the wall appeared, and a row of arrows shot straight at us!
MC: Watch out!
My instinct was to push Kiro out of the way. In the next instant, the sharp pain of an arrow in my back hit me.
I gritted my teeth and called to Kiro with the last bit of breath in me.
MC: Kiro, get out quickly! Tell everyone this! Tell the silver-haired prince!
Kiro: The prince already knew.
My eyes widened. Before I realized what he meant, I fell to the ground.
Darkness and warmth surrounded me together.
??: Wake up, MC….Wake up….
A faint voice rang in my ear, urging me to open my eyes.
MC: Huh?....
I slowly opened up my eyes. There was a bright moon above my head.
MC: I’m here….
I looked around and found that I was still in the courtyard of Lord Jinsha, surrounded by countless royal guards escorting the other guards in an orderly manner.
The wound on my back seemed to have been cleaned and bandaged. It didn’t hurt so much now.
MC: What’s going on here?
Companion: Don’t you know?! The silver-haired prince is here!
Companion: He wiped out all the bad guys and rescued us all!
MC: What about Kiro?
Companion: Who is Kiro?
There was no need for her to answer; I have already seen him.
The golden-haired Kiro stood in the crowd surrounded by guards and attendants, and those who called him a prince.
Kiro seemed to sense my gaze. He turned his head and looked at me. He subconsciously took a couple of steps towards me before suddenly stopping again.
Kiro: I….
MC: You lied to me.
MC: Did you not trust me? We are partners yet you actually want to keep your true identity hidden….
Kiro: I don’t distrust you.
MC: What’s that?
Kiro: Ever since I was born, people have said that my voice is cursed by the demon and cannot be listened to.
Kiro: Although the royal family explained that it wasn’t a curse, everyone was still afraid of me.
Kiro: So, I can only pretend to be a shameless “silver-haired prince”.
He stared at me quietly, his every word sincere.
Kiro: You’re the only one who likes to talk to me and hear me sing.
Kiro: So I want to talk to you all the time and sing to you as Kiro.
He paused and said it again.
Kiro: Sorry, MC.
Maybe there was some kind of magic in his voice but, just listening like this, my heart swelled and thumped wildly because of his words.
But how can I forgive this “liar” so easily?!
MC: I remember that you promised me that the prince will reward me greatly after the matter is over, right?
Kiro: I remember.
MC: I’ll think of a reward now and the punishment for you lying to me, which I’ll only tell you, also.
I stretched my hand out in front of him.
MC: Your Royal Highness, please come and honour it!
Kiro’s expression stiffened as if waiting for some kind of cruel prank, and walked towards me with a guilty conscience.
The moment he leaned over, I hooked my arms around his neck.
MC: The punishment is that His Royal Highness must do whatever I say.
MC: Just say….
My lips pressed against his cheek.
MC: “I want to talk to MC for a hundred years and sing songs for her for a hundred years.”
Wind and sand rolled over the hills and the travelling artist’s caravan set off again.
They sang travelling ballads, letting the story of the silver-haired prince spread across the mainland.
Legend has it that on a bright and sunny day, the prince’s always-closed palace doors suddenly opened up and welcomed everyone.
There is no demon nor a curse; only laughter and good wine.
The beautiful and timeless singing of the prince will always be heard in the palace, making the people happy.
And wherever the singing sounds, there will be a girl to accompany him.
[End]
You can read the call that comes after this date here!~
#mr love queen's choice#mr love#mlqc spoilers#date translation#mlqc kiro#mr love kiro#mlqc#mr love dream date#zhou qiluo#I loved that ending!
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Single (Jeno x you)
a/n : i may forgot how to write (?) anyways this is a jeno piece I work quickly today for @neopalette
hope this is entertaining enough and to all dream stans out there this is for you :D
setting is all dream members considered to be in the same age as you.
enjoy!!
People have been pestering you with the same question, “Why are you still single?”
Well you cannot really answer them and say, “I don’t know why don’t you date me?” As much as you want to shut them up with those words, you knew it’ll only turn awkward.
Well to be honest, you've been asking yourself that. It's not that you're unattractive or unsocial. You're the total opposite! Cute, caring, and fun.
You have friends or a group of school's princes as your hang out friends. It's just a lucky coincidence. You're the childhood best friend of Jeno and that guy’s really like your brother (despite the same age you share). He always brings you to his outings and you slowly develop a good friendship with the boys.
What irks other people is that the fact you're in a position every girl is willing to die for. Standing on the side of the class, leaning to the wall while laughing with a circle of the most popular guys in the school.
Now their question is, why are the boys so attached to you and why are you not dating anyone of them? Well, first you do want to date anyone of them. Literally anyone because you feel so chill and relax around them. They make you feel save too! But what is this? Friendzone? Maybe. Or “I see you as my sister.”
One day as you walk through the hall with one of the boys, Jeno, both of you overheard a group of girls talking.
“I know right, there's no way she is not leeching over them. Did she use some magic? She's so usual like us why do they choose her?”
“You're right its either she pays them, or she buys them with money. She came from a quiet decent family. No way she is not crushing anyone there. If she does not, she's crazy.”
You try to ignore them, but your heart is sad. No, you do not “buy" your friendship. They even treat you more than you did to them.
Jeno heard them and apparently, he was riled up and he went to the group of girls who looked shocked but tried to act normal.
“Excuse me pretty girls,” he nicely greets them with his smile and friendly composition. You close your eyes, knowing this will just give you trouble.
They look struck by Jeno’s close presence and melt into his charm. “I am here to remind you, what you’re doing is making false rumor and that is not good. It doesn’t suit you.”
Jeno forces a deadly smile and turns his heels back to you when the girls nod their head like they heard him clear. Their eyes found yours and you already gulp down the heavy lump in your throat when they send you a death glare.
“What are you doing?” you question Jeno once he returns to your side and starts walking as if nothing happens.
“Just reminding some girls what they’re doing is not good.” He shrugs his shoulder “You should speak up you know. You’re a great listener to us and what they said were wrong, so you should speak up.”
You nod “I know, it’s hard Jeno. I’ll let them think of me that way, besides you guys know my real side, why do I have to bother them.”
That actually makes a little bit of sense according to you and Jeno, but when you meet the gang during lunch break and Jeno told them what happened, well the boys cannot keep it low.
“I’m not going to help them anymore.” Renjun scoffs when he hears the story.
“You should really speak up (y/n)! You’re our amazing friend and we cannot let them think of you this way.” Jisung chimes in, which is something rare.
You smile and laugh “Thanks guys, but this doesn’t sound like you at all. I am the one getting judged, why are you the confused one? Besides what bothers me is not that, but something else.”
“And what exactly is that?” Haechan suddenly pops into the discussion. He surprised all of you, well earlier Mark and him were called for a help in the teacher’s room, and you guys were sitting on the backyard (a rare meeting place) so it’s a surprise they found you.
“I cannot tell you now. I promise I’ll tell you once I am ready.” You fiddle with your uniform skirt.
“Okay, we won’t push you.” Jeno smiles at you and you thank the others as the bell of the last quarter rang.
--
You spend the last quarter lost in your own mind. You keep on questioning yourself, is it true you look like that in other people’s eyes. Of course they do not know what happened between you and the boys behind their back.
You listened to every single problem they have, they share it to you through messages at the middle of the nights. Each slowly opening up to you, showing their vulnerable sides. You never judge them, instead you comfort them by staying with them. Just listening and being there for them. They like you because of that and you never share their secrets to the other. It started with Jisung opening up to you, then Chenle, then the harder shells to read like Jaemin Jeno and Renjun. Mark and Hyuck also lately come to you for sharing sessions.
You know people do not have to know that to clap and give you recognitions, you did this out of empathy and care. Plus they make a good gang to play and have fun with. Having a friendship bond with boys is less dramatic and more fun.
You push a smile back to hide your own emotion and luckily they bought it when you say “Let’s not bother or mind what others think about me. As long as you know the real me, I am glad with it.”
--
“You should stop acting like you’re fine.” Your longest best friend says when both of you have parted ways with the others and walk side by side on the empty road.
You look at Jeno and he doesn’t have his friendly smile on. His face looks serious.
“I am fine, but I could probably use a boyfriend card to take care of me and make me finer.” You joke around a little bit. Teasing the boys about you wanting a boyfriend is always fun.
They always say no but they never cross the line because they are afraid that being in a relationship with you may cut the nice friendship if things go wrong (break ups!)
“You’re still questioning that?” Jeno sighs, you’ve been talking about this to him. You always code him that you want to know what it’s like to be in a relationship, but Jeno just says “You’ll regret the drama”. He did date a few girls but finally settle on being single until he is ready for commitments. You, on the other hand, are single from birth. You always befriend boys to the point where they’re too comfortable with you to see you in a romantic way.
“Well I always wonder why and where did I do wrong.” You shrug your shoulder
“I want to be in a relationship! I want to know what it’s like to have someone take care of me, or me taking care of them. I want short goodnight and good morning texts. I want to walk with them home and maybe grab some bite along the way while we discuss small things. Oh and I want to just you know sit together, listen to a music from a shared earphone and act like we’re the main characters of a movie!” you have stars in your eyes and as Jeno stares into the sky, he notices the beautiful sunset.
“You’re being single for too long. I tell you, that did not always happen.” He mocks your ridiculous idea and playfully ruffles your hair “You read too much fantasies.”
“I never read them.” You glare at him and he nods “Now that explains why you also sound so clueless about relationship. Look, it’s not as simple as saying I love yous and holding hands in public. There’s more and as much as I hate to tell you this… I have to.” He pauses and you stop walking.
You look at him. Waiting for Jeno to continue “Look, you don’t need a boyfriend right now. You’re taking care of so many people and that’s great, but that is time consuming already. If you have a boyfriend, then you will pay more attention to them and counting the time you spend taking care of us, will make you neglect your life and study and fail school. Which is something I do not want to happen.”
Your eyebrow raise “Conclusion?”
“You don’t need a boyfriend, or at least right now you should focus on taking care of yourself. You did a lot to us, let us take care of you in return.” Jeno whispers, and deep inside his heart he adds “or maybe let me take care of you in a way you always wish to get. You don’t know how much I love you and seeing you want a boyfriend only pains me. Will I be ready to lose you?”
“Fine. It’s not like I can buy one from a store.” You start walking again and Jeno follows you.
“Silly idea, ignore that okay.” You feel shy about saying that to him, what will Jeno think of you? A creepy freak.
NO. IN JENO’S HEAD YOU LOOK SUPER CUTE. WANTING TO HAVE A BOYFIE, EVEN GOING INTO THE DETAILS.
“Alright, this is it, good bye and good night (y/n)” Jeno waves as you enter your porch and open the door. You look to the house right next to yours, separated just by a wall. Yes he is your neighbor.
“Good night Jeno! Thank you for accompanying me.” You disappear behind the door and continue your lonely life.
“Hey Jaehyun hyung-“ you greet your brother who is amazingly already homed already at this time.
“Oh hey, dinner is on the table.” He juts his chin to the dining table and your eyes fall to the set of plates.
“You’ve eaten?” you ask while washing your hands, getting ready to change and eat.
He nods “Boss was awful today, I got home quickly and was hungry. Sorry I left you to eat by yourself.”
“Any news about mom?” you ask when you’re back on the table ready to eat.
Jaehyun still sits in front of the TV, looks like he is having a bad day and is afraid of lashing emotions to you, thus he avoids you.
“She’s probably with that man again. No news.” He sounds bitter. Well, after father left mom also left to find another man. You were left alone with your brother, who has to work hard for you and him.
“Help me with some clothes will you?” Jaehyun asks when you’re done cleaning up and washing the dish. “We need to deliver the laundries to the neighbors.” Jaehyun stands up from his seat and goes back to you with a packed fresh clothes.
You and your brother run a small laundry services for the neighbors here. Well, your family left both of you with the house and utilities inside them, one of which is a laundry machine and a dryer. So for additional income you and Jaehyun did laundries.
“It’s by the end of the road, can you please drop this tomorrow morning? I am taking the one on the other side.” He shows you which packages should go where and with that you leave to your room.
You’re glad your father still pays for your tuition, but you have to keep your scholarship going or you’ll be in trouble. Right as you finish studying and doing your papers, your phone vibrates and Jeno’s name appear.
“Good night (y/n), sweet dreams!”
You glance to the window and look into the window across yours, it’s Jeno’s room and you can see his silhouette sitting on his desk probably still gaming. You smile a little and text him back and the next thing you see is his room going dark. Oh he really is sleeping!
You set your alarm and also take the long awaited sleep you needed.
--
“Good morning (y/n) oh and Jaehyun hyung!” Jeno greets you and Jaehyun on the front of your house. Jaehyun’s locking the door and taking his bike to work.
“Morning Jeno.” You feel happier with this kind of small acts. It’s not new, but something about his smile and genuine happiness is making you energized.
“Don’t forget to drop the laundry.” Jaehyun said after hugging you goodbye.
You don’t forget. With Jeno on your side, you walk to the house on the edge and knock on their door to deliver the package and receive the money. It’s nothing big, but definitely enough to buy you lunch and safe some for the piggy bank.
“Still running the laundry business eh?” he looks surprised, guess you usually deliver them not in the morning or he’d known already.
“Yes, usually I send them near evening, but today is special. Imagine if the school finds out I am doing this, maybe they’ll stop saying I bought my friendship, right?” you try to liven up the mood but Jeno is in pain.
“Let’s just enjoy the day!” Jeno boldly hugs your shoulder from the side and drags you with him into the school.
“Woah what’s with the sudden closeness??” Jaemin interrogates once he saw you and Jeno entering the school in an uncommon way, which is Jeno bringing your bag and having you on his back.
“She fell on the way here, and I guess she has to check her ankles and clean her wound.” Jeno shuffles you up on his back and you hide your face from the stares.
“Oh hurry then! I’ll help with the bags. Leave it here, Renjun can help me.” Jaemin takes over your stuffs and Jeno makes a run to the nurse office. There is still no one on duty, but he knows basic help.
He washes the blood carefully and puts disinfectant to your scrap, you almost kick him but his reflects are quick.
“I think your ankle is swelling. I am no professional but that is not normal.” He points to your ankle and right, its not.
“Do you want me to stay here? We can skip the first quarter and wait until you feel better. You fell hard earlier, did you black out?” Jeno sounds worried. Well he remembered how you suddenly wobble, lose balance and fell before Jeno could catch you.
“Forgot breakfast I guess.” You bite your lips and Jeno in a dash of an eye has fled from the room and return with a pack of milk and sandwich.
“Eat, or you’ll faint again.” He gently opens the wrapper for you and like his promise stays with you there.
“Want to listen to this?” he suddenly hands you one earphone piece and you pick it up carelessly. Not realizing that Jeno has been doing the things you wish to receive from a man.
“Nice song,” you comment as you focus with your left ear to the music playing. You don’t feel anything weird until break time comes and Renjun surprises both of you.
“Oh sorry for disturbing! I was just going to check on you but I guess I came in the wrong time.” He chuckles nervously and disappears before you can call him and say nothing is happening.
That’s when you lock eyes with Jeno, one piece of earphone connecting both of your ear and he was near to you. Oh now you understand.
“He thought we were in a moment?” you giggle
Jeno smiles, he loves seeing you this happy. He laughs too and brushes your hair away “This is it right? Something you want to experience. Getting taken care of, doing cheesy things like this.” He teases you
Realization hits you late and you laugh until a tear escapes your eye “You’re right! This… oh gosh! Jeno are you trying to let me feel this sensation?”
“What sensation?” his heart suddenly beats faster.
“Like I am treasured and getting taken care of? I feel loved??” you sound so happy and that makes Jeno both happy and sad. Happy to see your genuine laugh and sad why hasn’t he noticed this sooner.
“You deserve this (y/n), and I am stupid for not realizing this sooner.” He holds your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.
You suddenly feel butterflies in your stomach, Jeno’s close body doesn’t help your heart beat slower and the music playing in your ear is no longer clear. You can only hear your heart beating faster and your eyes are only locked inside Jeno’s deep warm eyes. Why did you not notice this? His eyes are warm and comfortable. You never want to cut this moment.
“I’m going to break the rules, why don’t we try to step further like more than friends?” he turns red and you are sure your cheeks are also red.
“Guess we can try and see where it leads us to,” you sing song give him the green light.
“Okay then, from now on, don’t be surprised if I change into your dreamy boyfriend type.” He winks and you laugh. Life’s great and you’re happy whenever you are with Jeno.
Maybe you both did not realize that life brought you together for a long time not just to be friends but something more.
That something, is going to be decided when both of you are ready to find out!
For now, you’re glad that Jeno took the first step into getting to know you as more than friends, and you are more than ready to share what you’re dealing with to Jeno.
end
#jeno imagines#jeno scenarios#jeno x you#jeno x y/n#jeno x reader#jeno soft hours#jeno oneshot#jeno fanfic#nct dream fanfic#nct dream fic#nct dream fluff#jeno fluff#jeno packs#lee jeno#jeno#nct jeno#nct dream masterlist#nct dream scenarios#nct dream imagines
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i need sugawara gaslighting the shit out of the reader and supplementing it with some sort of drug. missing homework? forgetting assignments? feels like shit man
I mean… He’s a kindergarten teacher, after the time-skip. I feel like coddling his Darling, or, making it so his Darling /needed/ to be coddled would sort be in his nature. Correct me if I’m wrong, though.
Title: Missing Assignments.
TW: Implied Non-Consensual Drug Use, Slight Non-Consensual Touching, Slight Infantalization, and Demeaning Behavior.
~
Your hand-writing was getting worse.
It shouldn’t have been such a big deal. Everyone got a little messy from time to time, and it probably didn’t help that lately, you’ve been more prone drifting off than paying attention, zoning out or just stopping in the middle of a thought, interrupting your train of thought and turning smooth, graceful curves into jagged edges and smudged ink, the words just barely legible enough to let you see the sentence was gibberish, in its entirety. All your notes were like that, these days. Ever since the beginning of the school year, it’d been so hard to concentrate, so difficult to do anything but lay your head on your desk and go to sleep, even if your teachers were quickly growing fed-up with your impulsive naps. Normally, you might be able to make it up at home, go over your textbook and borrowed notes until you’d memorized everything you missed in class, but doing that now felt impossible when your bed was only an arm’s length away. It felt impossible when your bed wasn’t. Everything felt impossible all the time, and you were beginning to think it was.
Maybe you were the impossible one, the factor that made everything else useless.
Maybe you were the broken link.
“Everything alright, (Y/n)?”
You jerked up at the sound of someone else’s voice, forcing you out of your stupor as you tore your attention away from the paper laid out in front of you, an essay you were supposed to turn-in last week, but only managed to finish the night before. Your instructor was lenient, thankfully, silently assuming there was some quiet, shameful reason one of her best students was suddenly falling behind, but you’d just been too exhausted to think about doing it any sooner. Too drained. Too incompetent.
Biting down on the edge of your tongue, you forced yourself to face Sugawara, kind, patient Sugawara. He’d never moved, but you’d managed to forget he was there, his calm tranquility allowing him to fade into the background as the two of you sat in Karasuno’s courtyard, perched on the edge of a garden wall. You hadn’t asked, but he’d promised to help you during lunch, even if he seemed more than content to peer over your shoulder as you glared at your composition, judging but never commenting. Never critiquing, not you out loud, at least. “You know I’m not,” You mumbled, your voice so low, you could only hope he wouldn’t hear you. “It’s awful and it’s late. I’d probably be better off asking for another extension, or breaking my hands and praying someone feels bad enough to give me a passing grade.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Sugawara replied, his tone light, unaffected. Sympathetic, but not nearly as involved as someone so committed to their self-imposed role should be. “It can’t be that bad. I’ve seen the way you write, you could take that assignment out in your sleep.”
The praise was nice, and yet, the sentiment rang hollow by the time it reached your ears. Another standard to live up to, another person you knew you’d let down, another friend you’d lose because suddenly, you only had the energy to breathe and sleep and eat, occasionally. Less than you should, despite Sugawara’s efforts to keep you well-fed. “I did write it in my sleep,” You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes open. I think I’m getting sick, or dying, or something. I’ve been getting these headaches, for the past few weeks, and I’m just so tired--” You forced yourself to stop, to cut off your rant before it could begin. You didn’t want to complain, not when Sugawara was just trying to be nice. When you continued, you did so sheepishly, attempting to shrug off your frustration with a small smile and an airy laugh. “I guess… I don’t know. At this rate, it might be less embarrassing to drop-out early.”
This was usually the part where Sugawara comforted you. He’d slapped your back, tell you to keep your chin up, and you’d nod and grin and try to do better going forward, or, you’d promise to, and he’d act like he believed you. But, rather than lift your spirits, Sugawara only draped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side, encouraging you to rest your head against him. It felt too intimate, too close, but as soon as you let yourself relax, felt his warmth and allowed your mind drift away from your plummeting academics, your body grew heavy, your eyes beginning to sting as they urged you to rest. You resisted, concentrating on a flower that's fallen onto the pavement instead, only looking away when the blossom got caught under another student’s heel. He hummed, gently, as if the sound alone would be enough to soothe you. For a moment, you wished it was. “That might not be so bad.”
Instantly, you were as awake as you’d ever been, more out of shock than determination. “It might not be… what?”
“It might not be so bad.” His small smile never wavered. If anything, it only grew wider as he glanced towards you, his expression softening into something reassuring. It was the look he gave to his struggling underclassmen, the look he gave to his teammates after a particularly bad play. As his friend, you’d never gotten it. As his equal, you hadn���t, but you guess you couldn’t count yourself as one of those, anymore. “Quitting wouldn’t be the end of the world. There’s always other options, and if you really think you’re going to fail, you shouldn’t waste everyone’s time. Going through that much just to pull out at the last minute would be… depressing. Annoying, even, if you already know you’re not going to graduate.”
You hated the way he said it. So casually, as if it was a fact, something bound to happen rather than an episode of burn-out you could get over, with enough time. As if giving up, dropping out, quitting wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Not if your life was the only one you’d ruin. “I'm not sure,” You managed, just as he was getting impatient. “College was the plan, it’s still the plan. I’m not sure how I’d--”
Sugawara made an awkward, breathless sound, his free hand rising to cover his mouth, and it took you a second too long to realize he was laughing. “You really think you’re going to college? You can barely stay awake on your own, do you think you’ll be able to pass an entrance exam?”
At that, you flinched, shied into yourself just a touch more than you had to. You hated it, you were beginning to hate him for it, but… you couldn’t say you disagreed. “What else can I do?” You asked, using what little strength you had left to grit your teeth. “There aren’t a lot of options for failures, Koshi.”
Now, you knew for a fact that he was grinning, the cruel tilt of his lips biting into your temple as he pushed a hasty, fleeting kiss into your hair. You didn’t try to stop it, didn’t try to get away, and for once, you thought you might’ve been able to. You just didn’t want to try and fail when it was so clear Sugawara already thought so little of you. “I’d take care of you, naturally,” He answered, as if it was the obvious solution. “After I graduate, we’d find an apartment together, and I’d take care of everything. Money, housework, all of it. You’d never have to lift a finger.” He paused, briefly, taking just long enough to half-heartedly pluck your essay off of your lap, scanning over the text as the paper creased between his fingers. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Not when his gaze shifted back to you, slowly, arrogantly. As if you weren’t worth the time it took to talk to you. “I mean, it’s clear you can’t handle things on your own.”
You opened your mouth, but whatever you were going to say was drowned out by the bell, startling and deafening, even so far from the main building. Your argument was bitten back as you forced yourself to focus on your bag, instead, pulling it between you and Sugawara, desperate for a drink, a snack you’d missed, something to wash the bitter taste his words had left on your tongue, but Sugawara didn’t hesitate to take you by the wrist, thrusting a bottle of water into your hand, never giving you an option to refuse. “Don’t worry, I know how forgetful you can be,” He said, barely even bothering to avoid meeting your eyes.
“You’re just lucky you’ve got someone so thoughtful looking out for you.”
#yandere#yandere love#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere prompt#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere scenario#yandere imagines#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyu#yandere haikyuu#Haikyu!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu!! imagines#yandere haikyuu!!#yandere hq#hq!!#hq#sugawara x y/n#sugawara x reader#suga x reader#yandere sugawara#yandere sugawara koushi#yandere suga#yandere fantasy#yandere fanfiction#yanderecore#yancore
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