#guess who hasn't really drawn anything since christmas!
Text
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
the wishlist (m) - 2
“Since when do we buy each other sextoys?”
> genre : light angst, fluff
> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)
> words : 5k
> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity; chaotic oc; clueless koo
previous - next
It all starts with the first box and the vague memory of a warm touch on your face.
When you wake up that morning, groggy from exhaustion and the sensation of having spent the night waking up, again and again, you sense something. You struggle to point out if you’ve dreamt or if it really happened, but there’s the lingering of a warm hand's trace, cupping your cheek, soothing the stress lines on your forehead, and softly brushing your hair back from your face. You can’t tell if it’s happened but it left a lovely sensation both on your skin and heart.
You get up and out of bed, slowly stroll to your living room with a lazy hand raising to your head, meaning to scratch at the snake nest you expect to be sitting on it. Instead, your fingers are met with a rather neat braid you definitely didn’t go to sleep with as you were too fucking done with this day to even try and deal with your tight bun -the very bun that elongated your time to fall asleep by at least a good half an hour. The same fingers that caressed your face took care of your hair and you know exactly to whom they belong.
Of course, giddiness ensues and the mildly serious feeling of mortification -you despise the idea of not knowing in what state he found you, in what state of ugly, of dishevelled, of smelly. There’s no room for embarrassment in this friendship, not this kind anyway, fortunately or not, he’s seen you at your worst (at a time when you didn’t care much if he did or not) so it counters, always a bit, the shame.
He hasn't left your side yet, has he? And he’s exposing himself to this face of yours, so why should you feel bad about it? He sneaks into your apartment at night just to brush your face and bring the covers up to your chin, tuck you nicely in as if he’s your mom or something, so why should you care. He doesn’t seem to mind. He never seems to mind. He’s the best of friends. The best of all the people you know and the best of your friends.
And of course, naturally fitting this role, you’d find the morning of Christmas, a mysterious box you’ve never seen before sitting on your coffee table.
The girls, your friends, have presents for you, you know they do, but yesterday you were working and couldn’t see them, therefore, the little celebration was reported and you didn’t expect, you wouldn’t expect them to come at night or early in the morning to bring you your gifts. It can wait (so they decided).
But Jungkook is sweet like no one else is.
And he came to wish you a merry Christmas even if you were too tired to wish him back and he left a present for you.
There’s not a name attached to it but it’s obvious it comes from him. There’s just a post-it he stole from your desk, with a Merry Christmas written on it, the lines of the letters, round and neat, you’d recognize from any other lettering and a bunny with teeth as big as the eyes smiling at you, drawn next to it.
The box is so pretty, you feel an actual pressure thinking about opening it, as if there is a certain way, a proper way, to go about it.
And apparently, there is. You go wash your face and rinse your mouth, prepare yourself one of your good teas, tear the curtain wide open and slowly, almost ceremoniously, take a seat on the ground, right in front of it.
The box is neat. You don’t know what’s inside, probably a perfume or some kit for the bath you’d assume, but you already know that whatever is inside, even if it’s not of your liking -which is impossible, it comes from Jungkook-, will be balanced out by the appearance of this perfectly elegant, tasteful box that you’ll use again to stock anything, maybe your face masks, maybe nothing -it’ll just sit, looking good on a shelf.
It’s a pastel blue, with a black rose drawn on top of it, the icon to a brand you absolutely don’t recognize. With fingers trembling with excitement you drag the box to yourself, it’s mildly heavy, for some reasons, it gives you a little rush of anxiety. There’s just a tiny black ribbon holding the box firmly closed. A tiny pull on it and it slips open.
Slowly you lift the lid, a grin already plastered on your face, hurting your cheeks. You expect a blinding magical light to come out of it, with the sound of bells ringing near your ears and sense to suddenly knock into you as you’d understand what wondrous present is in front of you.
But none of it comes. There's just a thing hidden inside a black satin bag.
It’s not a perfume nor a bath kit and you’re confused.
A bit scared.
Honestly, maybe a little shameful part of you has guessed it. But the louder yet weaker rest of you can’t see it. It would be too... ludicrous. And wouldn’t make sense, would it? You’ve never actually seen any in real life so how would you know what the packaging would look like and how would you come to this conclusion now? And how, why, how would he, Jeon Jungkook, come about to offer you this?
Doesn’t make any sense.
But somehow, when you pick up the courage to open the little bag and drag the object out of it, you hardly even gasp in surprise when you discover a dildo. You just let it drop to the table, thumping loudly the fake wood.
Why did you guess it to be that and why did he get you this shit?
Scorching red seize your face and your whole being.
You are infuriated.
How dares he? You are mortified. How dares he?
What does this fucking mean?
A joke?
Is it a joke?
If it a joke then what’s the fucking point? It’s not fucking funny. It’s weird as hell and you can’t believe he came in the middle of the night, pretending to be Santa to leave you a fucking kidding present as if your miserable life needed that.
And if it’s not then what the actual fuck? Does he think you’re that desperate? Does he have really no notion of boundaries?
Conveniently your phone lays centimetres away from the offending thing, you don’t even need to get up to grab it and therefore, you start looking furiously for his name in your recent call list. After only two rings as if he was just expecting your call, his bright hello reaches your ear.
“What the actual fuck, Jeon?” He must hear the madness in your voice, both the anger and the hysteria. There’s a pause during which he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound and you even check your screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up on you.
“That’s- not- the reaction I expected.” He sounds sheepish. Mumbled words, lisped syllables, long pauses.
“What did you expect?” You yell a bit, you can just picture him, dragging the phone out of earshot and winding, the same way you do when your mom who doesn’t get the concept of telephone screams in it each time she calls you. The realization hits you, that in your quiet little apartment, in this (for once) quiet morning, you are screeching like a banshee. You quiet down instantly, some of the anger soothed down by embarrassment. “Are you insane?” You whisper in his ear and comically, he starts whispering too, with the same alterations to his usually bright and open tone.
“M’not. I just- you said that’s what you wanted so I got it for you.”
Now he’s making stuff up and blaming this insanity on you and that serves to raise a bit more the bar of anger -along with the loudness of your voice, “When have I ever said that I wanted a-“ You choke on your own saliva once your brain realizes that you’re supposed to say the word, out loud, to him. In an angry whisper, as if someone, your mother, for example, could be listening “fucking dildo!” You blush furiously at that and it’s ridiculous. Probably the reason why you didn’t own one in the first place and maybe shouldn’t yet. Because you’re a grown-ass woman of a quarter of a century, living alone and admittedly independent and responsible for your own existence, but you can’t even say the word “dildo” out loud to this asshole of a friend who apparently, and that’s new news, doesn’t have an issue talking about sex and everything related to it with you.
“Y-you said-“ There’s a pregnant pause. You can’t know for sure since you’re not seeing him if he’s faking it or not but he sounds confused as hell. Like he genuinely doesn’t understand what’s wrong. Moron. “You said you wanted sex but not a boyfriend so I thought- it’s pretty much- it’s exactly what it is. Why are you so mad?”
The question in itself serves to drag you a little further over the edge. So much so, it clogs your brain with anguish and leaves you unable to give him an answer.
When he’s starting to talk again, maybe ask again his question, you just hung up, slamming your phone down on the carpet.
You hear it vibrate to life twice before it shuts down completely. Good. At least he knows you well enough, still, to assume rightfully so that you won’t pick up his calls anymore. Not today.
You just have the time to pack the dildo back in its bag and inside its box, throw away your tea that tastes unbearably bitter and maniacally scrub your face in an attempt to get rid of the red patches that don’t want to fucking leave before the telling high beeps of your front door’s digital lock alert you. Your face is soaking in cold water, another attempt to cool it, your face and your troubled mind.
You mean to ignore him. Dipping your head further in the filled up sink, closing your eyes tight shut hoping somehow it’ll help you push aside the calls of your name better.
For a few seconds, it works. You can’t hear him anymore. You wonder if the furious pleas you were chanting in your head could have been loud enough to make the sound of the door slamming behind him as he would have left, completely quiet.
He’s such a try-hard. You hung up on him because he’s saying batshit crazy things and his first reflex is to barge in your house again. You really need to change your lock and not tell him. You can do that. You’re an adult and you have the right to your own fucking place. It’s not a fucking benevolent stay in, for fuck's sake.
The cold water really seems to work. You feel better, light-headed, coming down after the earlier hysteria. And knowing that he’s left and won’t pursue this mess any further, for now, surely helps a lot.
Except it doesn’t last for, as soon as your face leaves the water, your hands reaching clumsily for a towel that falls magically in them, one wipe at your eyes and your worst nightmare is standing right in front of you.
“Fucking- Jungkook!” Burying your face back in the towel, drying your face as much as possible, maybe even trying for a second to suffocate yourself, you wish vainly that when you’ll take it off he would have disappeared.
He is still here though. Watching with dark eyes and a straight severe line replacing the cute button he owns for a mouth, he looks awfully serious for a guy that’s never really serious. Your towel ends up centimetres away from his face, he catches it right before it touches him. You hoped it would blind and confuse him momentarily, long enough for you to escape but of course, this guy would never miss a shot, even a surprise one.
“Why are you like this?” He asks when you try and push him from the ribs, out of the door frame. You hate that you think about it. About his chest being so hard and warm and his fucking smell of sweat that you’d recognize amongst any others (pretty easily as any other makes you gag and this one, probably because you’re a primary animal guided by hormones, leaves you dizzy and wanting). He doesn’t budge until he decides to, mercilessly stepping aside to let you through. Because you’re an idiot, you don’t think and head for the living room and it’s only once you’re there, very aware of his steps following you, that the devilish object of your discord is right fucking there, obnoxiously sitting on the middle of your coffee table. You groan and squeeze your eyes tight.
What meditation technique, an extra effective one, could you use right now before you definitely lose it and throw yourself out the window?
Before you find one, you end up clinging to the opposite wall, forehead pressed to it, back to him, in a vain attempt to suppress yourself from the situation. You might look a little insane or at best, somehow on edge, but who cares at this point?
“Jungkook, if I don’t pick up your call, do you think I want to see your face?”
“But why though?” His tone is still harsher than usual. You notice it and you notice you don’t hate it either. What a little bitch you are. If you like his usual self, with the bright smile, soft words, boisterous laugh, dainty manners, you can’t deny that this rougher version of him, genuinely pissed off as you’ve never seen him, tickles your fancy. You’re fucked. “Seriously these days you- you’re such-“
“I’m what?” You bark, swirling on your feet, expression distorted by an offence he hasn’t even made yet. You completed the sentence he’s never finished with terrible words that you’ve never heard him use talking about anyone: bitch, hysterical, cunt.
“You’re trying to pick a fight with me all the fucking time, I don’t get it!”
Now you feel terrible. You’re still bothered by the raw edges of his tone, it’s literally sending electric shocks to your lower tummy. But his eyebrows have dropped and his fiery dark eyes have turned shiny and sad, your heart hurts in your bosom.
Ugh.
You’re such a bitch.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m insufferable. I’m on my period. Sorry.” You send a mental apology to womanhood. You're just an idiot lacking imagination.
Jungkook frowns, his eyebrows dancing in all kind of ways, before they settle for an, unfortunately for you, attractive finale, one straight down, one tilt up. He stares at you, dubious.
“For three weeks. You’ve been on your period for three weeks.”
The first thing you take notes of is the fact that he dated it way shorter than you would have. Honestly, you found yourself becoming a weirdo with inappropriate feelings that reindeer you into an asshole for at least a month and a half. Before that, it was extremely tamed, totally under control. You’d just notice his handsome face and cute smiles and nice smell, thinking “oh yeah that’s right. He’s kinda attractive. How funny I never really noticed.” And slowly it progressed to not being able to handle him touching you without having something close to a panic attack.
The second thing you note is that he doesn’t believe you. His stare is insistent, turns a bit dark as he lingers, studying your own eyes with judgment in his. He’s frowning even more, looks down at the floor and sighs so deep, heartbreakingly so. He looks hurt that you’re lying and don’t want to share what's really been up with you. If only you could be a better liar.
“It happens sometimes, all women are diff-“
He just sat down on your sofa, eyes fixed on the blue box. Before you can finish your sentence, he sends you a glare that awfully looks like a threat. You shut up. He doesn’t believe you anyway. He knows you and your periods (sort of) way too well. He knows you’re in pain the first day, you’re a bit tender on the following ones and he takes it upon himself to be gentler and not try to play WWE with you on those but you don’t turn into a mean dragon. This much he knows for sure.
There’s something he’s seeking for within the box. He’s grabbed it, holds it now in between his fingertips, piercing virtual holes into it. It’s probably the answer he didn’t find in your eyes.
It makes you flush furiously. Seeing his pretty hands with his long fingers touching it. Here’s the reason, he would have caught it on your cheeks if he wasn’t so busy looking for it elsewhere.
“I really thought that- you’d like it.” He sounds so saddened. You’re caught off guard. Again. So this present wasn’t meant to be a joke. It is a genuine one. It makes sense that he’s hurt then. You’re shitting all over his gift but how could you not? How could he believe that you could just accept that for a random gift? Slowly he makes the top of the box slide up, pout sucked in in concentration, dimple out. Your heart seems to stop at that. He’s not going to take it out, is he?
He can’t take it in his hands.
You’ll die if he takes it in his hands.
Fortunately, he just opens the box, looks at the satin bag, looks at it with a pained expression as if he feels bad for the thing, then closes it back.
“The woman at the shop said that it’s one of the best ones, for starters.” He sulks like a child. Bottom lip all plumped out, shiny eyes under curved eyebrows.
Jungkook looks up at you, ultimate sad puppy look on.
“She said the size and the texture were perfect if you’ve never used one before. It wouldn’t be too... what was that again?” He asks aloud as if you’d know. And you’re mortified. On behalf of him. The concept that he’s not embarrassed right now and that he went to an actual shop, browsed through the shelves and asked an actual saleswoman for help is absolutely insane. Unbelievable if it were not for the sincerity he’s dipped in. “And I picked blue because I know you like this colour. It matches your planner, doesn’t it?” He adds as if he’s not sure when obviously he knows.
It is surprisingly very close in shade. And so what? He expected you to love it so much, take fucking aesthetic pictures with it and your planner sitting on your fake marble desktop, next to Diego the succulent? What an idiot. And for how fucking long did he talk to that woman?
Silence hangs heavy between you. You watch as he scowls some more, mumbles under his breath while staring with despair at the box.
Slowly, resolute to be the better friend you have not successfully been these past weeks (months), you leave your protecting wall. Taking a seat on the carpet, on the opposite side of the table, you do your best to ignore the blue patch invading the bottom of your vision and try to give him the softest expression you can come up with at this moment.
“Why are you so butthurt?”
His curiously perfect round eyes raise in a swift motion, pouty lips agape in a silent little gasp.
“Sorry.” You apologize before he even gets to respond because, maybe, you could try harder to be good and nice to him.
“Because it’s a present.” He starts at a very slow pace. He pauses between words like he’s addressing a dim, dim brain. And he might be honestly. But he’s one to talk. How can he not see an issue? “That I’ve looked for and bought for you. That’s why I’m butthurt, what do you mean?”
“But- since when are we buying each other-“ You need to grow up. There’s no one else but him hearing you and since your last conversation about it, when he too was embarrassed, he’s able to say it just fine apparently. Still, you whisper the following, “sex toys?”
“Since you turned twenty-five and said you were interested in it.” His right-hand raises from the box to start flapping the air and you know it means bad news. He’s upset. When he needs his hands to further accompany his speech, it means he’s a bit too taken by the conversation. And in this case, you don’t feel like it’s a good idea for him to be. “When you were fourteen and into Legos, I bought you a set of Legos.”
Hardly makes sense.
“You’re just going to pretend it’s a random present?”
“It’s not random. I put thought into it.” His eyes are digging up intensively in your own. It might be desperation that leads you to remain still, allow him to look. Hopefully, he won’t dig deep enough to find stuff he shouldn’t. “Why do you hate it? I thought- I don’t know- you’re a- flourished single woman and-“
Flourished? Really? The words don’t come out of your mouth but he reads them on your face and an adorable smile cracks open the mask of gravity.
“Jungkook.” You owe him an effort. Maybe you should look into why it requires an act of inhuman courage for you to admit your shame. It might be because if he were anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by the present for five seconds because clearly, you’re still half of a fucking child but soon enough, you’d probably be enchanted by the thing. Who doesn’t need a good sex toy? You definitely do. You thought about getting one for a long while but never got to it for some reasons and here’s one offered to you (in a very pretty shade of baby blue).
The thing is you don’t think about anyone sexually except for him (and his friend Jimin, once in a while, just by curiosity because the guy is a very sexual being). If you don’t even consider them in this light, you don’t have to think about them using it, do you? But he’s all you think about, unfortunately. And you’re friends. And it feels like one step closer to your fantasy while simultaneously one step closer to betrayal. And he certainly is not offering you this wishing for you to keep close in mind the fact that this is his. His present. He knows about it. Maybe can think of you using it and liking it without any further implications. Because obviously, it’s not like that for him. “It's awkward. How can you not see that.”
“Is it? What is?”
“First of all, we don’t- we- don’t even talk about... it. And suddenly you’re buying me- this?”
“Yeah, I realized that too!” It’s too much enthusiasm. Eyes too big and hands not leaving the air. You can already guess his next sentence. It’s probably going to be a terrible suggestion. “I talk about sex all the time with the guys,” Your eyebrows jump to your hairline at that. You’re not even that surprised but the formulation could probably be fixed. “and you talk about it with your girls, right? But we’ve known each other the longest and we never talk about it. Isn’t it fucked up?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’-”
“Well, I would. I am.”
“Don’t you- don’t you see that you’re a boy and coincidentally you can easily talk about it with the guys who happen to be boys and I am a girl, right? And I-“ Who would have thought? It took you fifteen years to finally be giving him the beginning of the talk about the birds and the bees. You would have given it to him sooner if you’d have known how far behind he’s been.
“But what if I need girl advice-“
“I’m sure Jimin knows a whole lot about girls, Jeon.”
“From a girl point of view. Real girl advice.”
“Jungkook-“
“If I ask what the G spot exactly feels like, what-“
“Jungkook!”
He’s amused, the fucker. He’s not as clueless as he sounds. But the crooked grin on his face is too telling. He might just be messing with you. Usually, when he’s just playing he wouldn’t insist so much, he wouldn’t take the conversation this far so surely, there are some genuine intentions. However, he's still having way too much fun.
With his frowned nose, and squinting shiny orbs and stupid bunny teeth.
“You’re just embarrassed, aren’t you?” You might have terribly loud red streaks painting your cheeks that you try naively to cover with your hands. He can see it all and silently, he nods his head, looking like he’s reached the final touch of his experiment. “How? What happened to the teenage girl who spent her nights writing dirty stories about Harry Styles?”
Horror.
How the fuck-
“How the fuck do you know about that?”
“You showed me!” He defends, hands high above in the air like a soccer player claiming innocence. “You did! You don’t remember?” No, you don’t. But you can tell he’s not lying. Apparently, young you was quite the fearless bitch.
What happened indeed?
Years happened. A growing sense of self-preservation along with them. Undesired feelings for an idiot with a bunny smile. An inappropriate sense of shame along with those.
“Anyway. So it’s a bribe for girl advice?” You ask, chin pointing to the box. Jungkook looks down on it, drums his fingertips lightly on the top before he looks up, beaming.
“Sort of.” Shrugging, he adds with a shifty eye that telltales a certain vulnerable sincerity. “I just wish for us to be able to share everything. Be comfortable like before.”
“Before what?” He stares for a long time, mouth shut. He then blinks the moment away and for the first time, you might believe ever, Jungkook looks like he might have a secret too.
“Just before. Back in the days, I mean.” He simply explains. His attention is back on the stupid box. He’s staring at the rose on top of it. Fingers playing with the corner of it.
“Back in your old days.”
“You’re older than me. So you really don’t want it?” Here he comes again with the sad puppy face. Why would it be breaking his dumb little heart to refuse a dildo from him? What kind of insane parallel universe is this? “Is it like a 'men are fine but little Jeon Jungkookie still has cooties so I can’t accept his present, it’s gross'?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh.” Defeated, he sighs. Another one of those soul-harming sighs. “Fine. I’ll get it refunded and you’ll buy yourself something else with the money then.”
Is he really going to make you do that?
As if the question is even to be raised. He can make you do anything.
“No, Guk, sorry. It’s fine. Sorry.” You start, hands clasping over the box you drag your side of the table. The only way you can do it is if you don’t actively think about what’s inside. “I’ll keep it. Sorry.”
“So you kind of want it?” He is grinning from one ear to the other. You can feel him giddy and excited, kind of jumpy on his seat and really, you don’t see any difference with the excitement he portrays each time he gets you any kind of presents and you tell him that you like it.
“I won’t use it.” It’s almost a threat. Eyes squinted in severe slits, index finger millimetres away from poking his eye. “It’s a gift so I won’t make you get a refund, that’s rude but- I won’t use it.” After a second of seemingly deep reflection, he breaks out in his loud, annoying boyish laughter. Eyes watery at the corners and hands clapping like a stupid seal. “I’m serious!”
“Sure.” He’s still cackling, the idiot. “But you should. The lady said it’s a best seller too.”
“Great. I don’t care.”
He has his eyebrows high, a twitch in his wide grin, and the amused black orbs. He doesn’t believe you one bit. “Course, you don’t.”
The idea that he sincerely expects you to use it might drive your delusional brain for a loop. He just wants to be the best gift-giver, the best Santa, and wants you to make good use of whatever he's got you. But how can he not consider that you could not use something like that, to pleasure yourself, when it’s directly related to him, your best friend? It’s weird as hell. It can’t be just weird to you.
Unfortunately, there’s no one you can come up with the question to have them agree with you. You already know what the girls will say. They’re even worse than you when it comes to Jeon Jungkook and your ambiguous (on your side solely) friendship. They’ll say the ship is sailed and start buying themselves bridesmaid matching dresses.
They don’t understand. It’s not like they’ve grown up with someone like him. Someone rather simple, authentic and kind, so much so, so much more than most people, that it turns him complicated because so different from other humans you can meet. There’s nothing to be read in between the lines with him. It’s always lovingly honest, blatant, generous.
He doesn’t mean anything else behind the gift besides a “have a good one!”.
And you didn’t mean anything else but the truth when you said you wouldn’t use it.
At the moment, anyway, you meant it.
A/N: hoping it makes sense and is not too raw, edited it at midnight TT; may i manifest a sugar daddy that would pay me to stay home and write fanfiction for you guys all day :). i really hope you like it, and hope also that you can handle the secondhand embarrassement because even i struggled. let me know what you think of the series so far, sending everyone reading this an infinite amount of virtual kisses and hugs, take care of yourself, love yourself and others a lot, BYEE.
tag list: @moon-asia @btstrasht @jkbangtan7 @taehugger @kaepjjangiya @daggerbeneathmygown @cuteipat @jinsalpaca
PLEASE ASK TO BE TAGGED IN THE COMMENT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER! TY <3
#btswriterscollective#networkbangtan#ggukienet#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#bts fanfic#jungkook fanfic#my writing
331 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sweet Night - Song analysis
So I decided to do a small analysis for Taehyung’s new self-written song “Sweet night” which is the OST for the drama “Itaewon Class”. It’s a very sweet song, and I am very proud of Tae.
undefined
youtube
I usually aren’t the biggest fan of completely English songs, but even though it’s a bit hard to hear the words clearly sometimes it doesn’t bother me much and I do like the melody, the lyrics and Tae’s voice. I’m really proud over Tae and how he seems to really embrace songwriting a lot more. But it’s quite a bittersweet song to be honest. Or at least it gives an uncertain feeling.
It is a song for a drama, so it is difficult to know how much of the song is from Tae and what might be done to fit the drama. He also isn’t the only writer. However I will speak from a perspective where we guess what it could mean if this is based on Taehyung’s personal feelings and of course also with a possible Vmin perspective.
For me this song (and even Scenery which has some similar parts and themes) seem to show a person who longs to be with someone but that feel like they have probably missed their chance. Or at least they aren't sure if there still is the same chance as there might have been before. And that it was their own fault that they missed their chance before as well, because as the song imply they didn't realize their own feelings from the start. The feelings changed at some point.
It’s a love song, but it’s a very unsure one. It’s uncertain about if there even is a future for that love, if it’s all too late, or even if it’s real at all (real as in If the other person would feel the same). So it’s not really a happy song even though it does have a small sliver of hope. For me it's about a lost chance in the past and wondering what might be there in the future. Let’s look at the lyrics and I will explain what I mean.
Looking at the lyrics, Tae sings about how he can’t sleep and how he is telling us a “fragile truth”. Which means it’s something he is unsure about (not unsure about his own feelings, but if he should confess them or not), and maybe he doesn’t even know if it’s something he should talk about at all. It also seems like he is somehow still hope for something but that he worries that the chance is gone or that he doesn't know if the other person would feel the same. If we look at this as a traditional love song and that it’s about a particular person these are feelings he are very confused about and sad about. He still hopes despite it all though.
Referencing a window being open before and hoping a door can still open for them as well as using the image of two ships in the night, crossing each other for a short time, barely seeing each other and that Tae also already reached the shore. All of it seems to indicate that it could be too late for him and whoever he longs for. It also indicates that there was perhaps a short time where it looked like something was possible but that that time has already passed, but Tae hopes for a second change. (Similar to what he does in Scenery). He still wants there to be something that has been there before, that he missed at the time.
He also asks the question “Are you my best friend?” and this could be both ways, either that he isn’t sure if this person is his best friend, or that he isn’t sure if it’s more than friendship. Personally I think it's 'are we more than friends' considering the whole songs romantic tone. Either way the line about “rushing through my mind” is pretty obviously about him not being able to think clearly. That he is confused and overwhelmed by his feelings.
His next line about “I wanna ask you” if directed to the same person the song is about makes it seem he also doesn’t know if perhaps this thing between them is something real. Or if it’s something he alone is feeling. Basically it could be unrequited and he isn’t sure if his own image of the relationship matches with the other person. But it sounds like his impression is that it is something real between them, but he’s not sure if maybe he is imagining it.
Then he asks if this person is too good to be true, which again seem to point at either his whole image is just something he has built in his head or simply that this person is all he wants and he finds them almost too good to be true. This would match well with all the dreamlike feelings Tae has used to describe love in songs like Winter Bear or his Christmas song, which are much happier and idyllic. It’s possible that Sweet Night could be the step before Winter Bear and the Christmas song and show the progress of being happily falling in love. It’s also possible the other two songs are the more happy longing before he realizes their chance may have passed. If the songs would even talk about the same lovestory at all.
He also asks is it would be alright if he pulled this person closer. This could indicate a possible change in the future, but together with all the other references it seems to almost drown amongst the more negative outcomes of it being too late or one-sided. However it is the ending, and it’s also switched from past tense, so it could be the happy ending of a unsure time. Using "would it be alright if I pulled you closer?" is his wish and hope. Meaning he hasn't neccessarily given up even if he isn't sure about the other person's feelings.
Lastly there is the line “How could I know, one day I would wake up feeling more” and this piece of lyrics truly seem to point at this song being about a person falling in love with their best friend. One day everything is just different, the love is more than what it used to be.
So I guess this in combination with Jimin and in particular Taehyung having confirmed numerous times through the years that they are best friends is the main reason for why people thought of Jimin when they heard this song. Taehyung also seemed to use "My best friend" a lot prior to releasing this song and have pointed out Jimin as his "One and only best friend" making it difficult to not let your mind be drawn towards Jimin. Especially since Friends just came out and we clearly have in our minds how close Vmin are and how they consider each other not only best friends but even soulmates. Basically the timing of this song coming out so close to the album will make people react even more. I suspect this could also be a reason why Jimin hasn’t said anything about it like he tends to do.
Tae also said in his vlive with Namjoon how he gets inspiration from his own feelings a lot. He says “I tend to write what I have felt into the lyrics” and he also said he wrote this song while abroad, so it’s difficult to know if these feelings would be new or old as well. (Though if we consider it to be about Vmin and how they have acted recently it seems more likely to be old feelings.) It also makes Tae’s earlier songs more likely to be very personal and perhaps even reflect different sides of the same love story that he is describing here.
Looking at Scenery in particular we can see a few common things, at the very least in theme and feelings.
Some lyrics from Scenery includes:
Will it be in me
I have my feelings now
That's the time of the moment
I missed my lost mind
I regret it
Collect a moonlight piece
I'll make the lights
Like yesterday
Come in front of me
I still wonder wonder beautiful story
Still wonder wonder best part
I still wander wander next story
I want to make you mine
Basically in Scenery we see some similarities with how Tae knows his feelings now, but that he also that he possibly regrets them, or rather perhaps regrets failing last time they had a chance. In combination with the lyrics for Sweet Night that could mean the other person came before him but Tae himself didn't have those feelings at that time. Something he later regret as his feelings change or become more clear to him. He also seems to want a second chance, asking for the person to come in front of him again. And also that he wants to make them his and looks forward to see what a possible future could hold. So a lot of similarities but in the end a bit more hopeful and certain compared to Sweet night. He knows what he wants, to make the other person his. So despite Sweet Night being a bit hesitant together with Scenery and even more with a Vmin perspective of all other Vmin songs, I think the outcome was a happy one.
That being said there are also many ways a feeling can change and be reinterpreted in a song. So even if the song is partly about his feelings it’s not possible for us to know how much or which parts, or when he felt this.
I also haven’t seen the drama Itaewon Class so I can’t say how much the song fits in with the drama either. It’s not just Tae who has worked on the song, so it’s possible it’s also been altered to fit the narrative of the story more. Though I have heard people say it doesn’t really fit in with the relationships between the characters. But again, I haven’t watched it yet so I can’t say anything about it.
Anyways, assuming the song is based mostly on Taehyung’s own feelings (and not mostly fiction) there are in my opinion three ways to view it.
1. Just because he uses the phrase “Are you my best friend” it doesn’t automatically mean it has to be about Jimin. It could be about someone else, even someone we don’t know.
2. If it is about Jimin it could be a song based on old feelings and that things have already changed since Taehyung felt like this. Perhaps “Friends” even being the happy solution.
3. The song is about Jimin and it reflects Taehyung’s feelings now. At the very least he is hoping for more and is bold enough to release a song about it.
If I’m completely honest what it sounds like if we assume the best friend is Jimin is that Taehyung has realized he loves Jimin as more than a friend, but he doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t know if that is a possible future for them and he isn’t even sure if it’s just him feeling this. Perhaps he is confused about both his own feelings as well as what Jimin could possibly feel for him.
It’s possible with option three that what we have seen all these years is actually Tae struggling with his own feelings without properly knowing what they are, but that now he knows but he feels scared about revealing them. It's possible he has reason to think Jimin might feel something more too based on their past lost chance. It’s also possible he hasn’t even said something at all to Jimin. That this song is just a way for him to express something that has been occupying his mind. It seems unlikely though, with the way Vmin behave and even more looking at their other songs possibly being connected.
I do find it interesting that he sings about feelings changing for someone, and even mentioning “best friend”. I think those are the parts that make this almost look a little bit like a confession from Tae’s side. And at the very least he has now shown that he probably agrees that you can fall in love with your best friend. It all keeps in fitting very well with Vmin… I can’t deny that.
Either way, what it looks like IF it even is about Jimin at all, is that their relationship is (or was) complicated and that Taehyung is a bit unsure and afraid about what they are and if Jimin would feel the same.
So, to me if this is something Taehyung truly feels and if it is about Jimin, I think Vmin are not in any kind of relationship but that perhaps Taehyung hopes for more. At the point in time of this song. Because we don’t know when Tae would possibly have felt like this or if he still feels it.
This is my take on the subject and the lyrics at least, and I can’t say it wouldn’t fit even though it sounds like a fanfiction. Especially since I personally have always felt more like Tae is the one showing potentially romantic feelings for Jimin, while Jimin has always been harder to read.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this. Personally I feel a bit sad looking at these lyrics and knowing it’s possibly something Tae has felt himself. But in the end we know Vmin are soulmates and love each other, so at least there is that.
EDIT: I feel I need to say that while this song on it’s own looks like it’s a bit sad and unsure I personally don’t think that if it’s about Vmin it would still be like this. It's about a moment in time, something Tae wonders if they can change. First I find it unlikely Tae would write a song like this if he hasn’t already either talked about his feelings or gotten over them, at least not if it’s about Jimin. And secondly it’s obvious Vmin are very close and happy recently so I don’t think there is any “angst” there at the moment. This analysis is based on the lyrics and I have no way to know when or even if Tae would have felt like this.
Thanks for reading.
#vmin#vmin analysis#taehyung sweet night#taehyung#jimin#btsandvmin#Btsandvmin ask#Btsandvmin answer#my post#song analysis#sweet night
121 notes
·
View notes
Text
where you lead, i will follow
previous chapter /chapter five / next chapter
start from the beginning!
ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?
warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, verbal fighting, top surgery mention, classism,
pairings: moxiety, logince
words: 8,901
"is it healing? it doesn't look like it's healing."
"it's healing, mom, we've been icing it," patton says, trying not to squirm too much with the surroundings of the club. it's a half-day at chilton, because of teacher conferences, so they're doing make-up lunch instead of brunch, in addition to dinner tomorrow. "look, the bruising's already going all yellow and green."
"it'll be gone by my birthday," logan agrees, as all four sanders' follow the waiter to the table. with halloween approaching rapidly, it meant that in a little over a week, it would be november, and on the third, he would be sixteen. which meant he'd be able to take his driver's test, and that he could actually start seriously researching cars and debating if he wants to get one with roman. and on his birthday his dad would wake him up at four in the morning and roman would enact their birthday tradition and they would have coffee cake for breakfast at virgil's with roman, and roman would get him his traditional gift and patton would get him something that's somehow both goofy and sentimental and virgil will get him unexpected yet useful, and virgil would make him his birthday cake at the party that night, which would be full of the people he loves tolerates most in sideshire.
logan likes his birthday.
"well, it had better," emily huffs, sitting in the chair his grandfather pulls out for her. "i have no idea what got into dee slange, he's usually such a shrewd boy."
logan and patton exchange a look.
"and that girl," emily tsks.
"i did business with janlen grant for years," his grandfather provides. "hard to believe."
"yes, well," his dad says, before there can be any parallels drawn there, "they're all in trouble, logan's healing, and he's been staying late for the past few days to get every piece of advice he can squeeze out of the advisor, so—"
"i'm just asking her about it," logan says, "there's no physical contact—"
"—figure of speech, honey—it might be best to just... put it in the past."
"hmph," emily says. "well, i agree."
his dad blinks, startled. "you do?"
"would i have said it if i didn't?"
"well, i just—"
"it's not like logan is about to engage in fisticuffs again," emily says, offering a benevolent smile to logan, who wrinkles his nose on instinct.
"hardly," he sniffs.
"there we go, then," emily says. "though if hanlin thinks it's forgotten—"
"agreed," patton says, and spares a moment to wonder when he stepped into the twilight zone. twice in one day.
"logan," his grandfather says, "did you see the article in the journal today about the progress of the value of stocks within the technology industry?"
logan perks up. "i did. what were your opinions, from the business perspective?"
and it's lunch. it's just lunch. no masked barbs, no out-and-out fights, no pointed commentary under anyone's breath. it's just lunch. talking about news articles, and some distant cousin of his patton's who’s had a baby, and the trip richard's taking to prague, leaving tomorrow before dinner.
emily even remembered patton's favorite dessert they used to get at the club, when his dad was his age, and ordered it as soon as she saw it on the menu.
logan and his dad wander out to the car (well, the valet pulls it up for them, technically) in a bit of a daze, and logan buckles his seatbelt.
"that was... nice," patton says disbelievingly.
for the first time logan can remember, that's not a lie or a forceful attempt at optimism.
"yes," logan says, and frowns. "it was nice."
"pleasant, even," patton says. "i... huh. that's—that's..."
"atypical."
"yes! yes, that too, but i," patton says, and he frowns too. "i mean. it was nice."
"it's probably because i got physically assaulted," logan muses, and patton grimaces.
"i'd prefer for that not to be the only reason we can get together and have a pleasant meal," he says.
"i'm sure we could do the same thing if someone died."
"i thought you were done with thinking everyone was dying!"
"i don't think that everyone is dying," logan says. "i think that someone relatively close to our family dying would be enough to spur on unusual behavior."
"...i mean, you're not wrong, but no one is dying, okay?" patton says. "at least, i don't think that's the reason we had a... a nice lunch."
"it was strange," logan agrees.
"right, it was," he says.
"it'll be interesting to see if it holds for dinner tomorrow," logan says.
"it will," patton says, and, unspoken, i hope it does.
his relationship with his parents hasn't always been strained. not on the surface, anyway. especially when he was little—he'd actually really liked the frilly dresses, the dance lessons, the dolls. he'd been good at acting like a darling little—
but he wasn't. at the core of who he was, he was a he. he'd struggled with that, not having the words for it, and started acting out. that's when what had been below the surface had surfaced. and then he'd learned more about lgbtq things, he'd found the words that fit, and he'd stopped hiding.
that's when any other issue he and his parents lost its last hope of hiding, too.
"dad, the turn," logan prompts, and patton shakes himself.
"right, yeah," he says, and gets over a lane to get on the highway.
"are you...?"
"just," patton says, and sighs. "thinking, i guess. the last time we got along so well, i was pretty little. it's been rocky since i hit puberty, even before i came out."
logan nods, and repeats, "it'll be interesting to see if it holds."
he had a feeling it wouldn't. but patton hopes—patton hopes—
he tells virgil, later, when they swing by for dinner that night.
virgil and logan exchange a look.
"we did get along, once," patton says.
"i'm sure you did," virgil says. "it's just—i don't want you to get your hopes up and then get crushed if it doesn't keep going like this, pat."
"i won't," patton says. virgil sighs. "i won't," patton insists.
"okay, okay," he says, then, "don't think i didn't notice you sneaking a refill, joke's on you, that's all decaf."
patton jokingly shakes a fist at him, and logan rolls his eyes, because did they have to flirt in front of him?
later, when patton's off chatting to some of the other citizens of sideshire, virgil slides into his vacated seat.
"it seriously went... okay?"
"it seriously went okay," logan confirms, making a note on the courant. "no insults or fighting or anything. it was a fluke."
"i've got a feeling you're right," virgil sighs. "just... keep me updated if i need to stock extra of anything, yeah?"
"yeah," logan says, and tries for a sneaky glance at him. "like cake."
"i suppose," virgil says, attempting to be blasé, but an upward twitch of his lip gives him away. "any reason you're thinking of cake?"
"don't try to be cute, you know that only works with dad," logan commands. "you know what dad got me, didn't you? and you always do your shopping early."
"not a chance, kid," virgil says with a snort, standing and stacking their empty plates to haul away.
"just one hint," logan wheedles.
"the last time i did that, you managed to figure out what me, your dad, and rudy got you," virgil says. "i didn't even know what rudy got you. no way."
"it can be a little one!"
"it was a little one, last time," virgil says, rolling his eyes, "be good or sandy claws won't give you presents."
"i haven't believed in santa since i was five," logan says, and virgil snorts again, heading for the kitchen. yeah, he remembers the way that hypothesis worked out—logan had laid a trap for the intruder, and emerged triumphantly from his hiding place to find patton tangled up in rope.
"plus it's not even november yet!" logan shouts after him.
"i was referencing a nightmare before christmas!" virgil shouts back, and disappears into the kitchen.
"why was he referencing a nightmare before christmas?" patton says, sliding back into his seat. "other than halloween, i mean."
halloween's virgil's favorite holiday. it's literally the only holiday he'll ever decorate the diner for—there's pumpkins strewn in random corners, skeletons galore, every single possible scary thing present. except, of course, the conspicuously absent spiders because of one diner regular, in particular.
"where are you hiding my presents?" logan says.
"ahh," patton says, grinning, and pretends to zip his lips shut.
logan's a terrible snoop around this time of year. well, he's a snoop generally, but he tends to limit that to journalism. but now he wants to figure out what people have gotten him, and will break into locked rooms if necessary (see: sixth, eighth, eleventh, and fourteenth birthdays.)
"they're not in the house, i've checked," he says.
"i'm not saying a word," patton says.
"not at the inn, either."
patton takes a large gulp of water.
"did you hide them out at virgil's? are they right on top of us!?"
patton plugs his ears and hums loudly to tune him out, in case he somehow gives something away. (see: fourth, ninth, and thirteenth birthdays.)
valiantly, patton prevails, and he manages to avoid giving away anything about logan's birthday presents. logan tries to pretend he isn't pouting the whole way home.
"i'm going to find out, you know," logan says.
"i'm sure you will," patton says placidly.
"i will!"
"i'm just saying, i have a really good plan this year."
logan groans, and stomps up the stairs, and patton smothers his smile and thanks whoever it is up there that he's got a teenager whose idea of a fight is trying to figure out where patton's hidden his birthday presents.
and besides. it is a really good plan this year.
there's a part of it that's still up in the air, though.
patton brings it up, tentatively, after dinner with emily—just him, logan, and his mom, his dad off in prague for business. logan is glued to his side, though, and sulking about it.
("you are not snooping through your grandparents' house to find your present!"
"i already know what grandpa's getting me, it's just a question of grandma and i already have a few theories that i think could be easily corroborated if—"
"nope, nope, no, young man, you're staying right by my side."
"da-ad.")
"so, um, mom," patton says, "you know it's a special day next friday."
"i know that," she says.
"would it be possible to push dinner to saturday?"
"what are you going to do on friday?"
"well, we were going to have a party in sideshire—"
"oh, we can have a little party here," emily says, stern, and patton sighs, because he knows when he's beat.
"can i bring a friend?" logan pipes up. "from sideshire."
"is it that romeo boy?" she asks, and patton barely manages to stifle his snort against his hand. logan spares him a wounded look.
"roman, grandma."
"all right, all right—"
"and, um," patton says, "when it comes to cake, virgil usually—"
"we'll have a caterer handle it," she says briskly. "give me a hug, logan, it's time you two got on the road, it's getting late."
in the car, patton turns to him. "two parties this year?"
"i suppose," logan says.
patton considers, then grins a little deviously as he starts the car.
"it gives you an extra day to figure out what my present is."
"dad."
(later in the week, patton's mom calls him to help with shopping for a present for logan, and they also get along then. patton's so weirded out right now, you have no idea.)
⁂
"happy birthday, honey."
logan groans and rolls to the side, even as he's trying not to smile. he's sixteen. sixteen. that's old.
"hey," logan mumbles.
"i can't believe how fast you're growing up," patton says, settling on logan's bed and carding his fingers through logan's hair. logan squints up at him. he knows for a fact that it's 4:03 in the morning right now.
"feels slow."
"trust me, it's fast," patton says with a laugh. "how's your life so far?"
"hmph. fairly passable."
"only passable, huh?"
"i'd like to get some more sleep, on the whole," logan grumbles, and patton laughs.
"nuh-uh, buster. for all that you are a great, smart, wonderful kid, and the best friend a dad can have, at this exact time, many moons ago—"
"here we go," logan mumbles, and reaches for his glasses.
"—i had been in labor for fourteen. hours. fourteen! and while having you of course was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life, at that point, i was begging the doctors to just induce me and make it a c-section at this point, and i was swearing—"
"like a sailor on leave," they say in unison, and patton snaps his fingers. "right! and i was surrounded by a hundred prominent doctors, and i was just screaming—"
"eight, dad," logan mumbles very quietly, and patton smiles, cards his fingers through his hair again.
"sixteen, kiddo. so there i was, lying there, and..."
"you shouldn't have to go to school today," patton declares as they're walking to the diner for breakfast, and logan looks horrified, as if patton had suggested that a fun birthday celebration would include going swimming in piraña-infested waters.
"you want me to skip?!" logan says, and patton wonders how he had a kid who dreaded missing school.
"just if you want," patton begins, but there's the thud of footsteps behind them, someone running, and logan barely manages to say "oh no" before he's tackled to the ground. patton, used to this yearly tradition, has stepped out of the way and is trying not to laugh.
"IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!" roman shouts in his ear. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
"must you attack me every year," logan says.
it started back when they were in kindergarten, when it was logan's birthday and roman got so excited about the birthday cupcakes that virgil baked and patton brought to class that he hugged logan hard enough that logan fell over and skinned his knee. and to make him feel better, roman did what his mom did to make him feel better (which patton did too, when logan was little), which turned into—
"¿qué tan viejo estás?" roman sings loudly into logan's ear to the tune of happy birthday, logan lying still in the grass, having accepted his fate. "¿qué tan viejo estás? ¿qué tan viejo, qué tan viejo, qué tan viejo estás?"
"sixteen," logan responds, cheeks going pink.
"dieciséis!" roman shouts. "entonces tienes dieciséis besos de cumpleaños!"
—which turned into the yearly birthday kisses. one kiss for each year.
(which was so cute when they were little that patton actually cried, and as they've grown older he's watched each of them get shyer and shyer about it, which was still so cute, and no, patton does NOT know how they aren't dating yet!!!)
roman smacks three noisy kisses—one on his left cheek, one on his forehead, and one on his right cheek—counting each in spanish, before scrambling off of him, cheeks equally pink, and hauling logan to his feet.
"thirteen more," roman informs him. "i might skip school just to catch the bus up to chilton to make sure i'm spacing them out properly."
"you won't be able to sneak in."
"that sounds like a challenge," roman informs him, taking his hand and swinging it between them for a few steps before dropping it as they approach virgil's diner.
there's a table set up. with balloons. they match logan's favorite tie—indigo and purple and black and white. the pink in logan's cheeks has not faded.
"virge, he's here!" jean hollers into the kitchen, and virgil emerges, hair disheveled (more than usual) and toting a tray.
"happy birthday, kid," virgil says. "i thought i told you to stop growing."
"he'll get right on that," patton jokes, tousles logan's hair a little, and logan sits down at the table, trying to fight little smile that's on his face.
"we'll weigh him down or something," virgil says, and sets down the tray, setting out the coffee cake with a candle stuck in the top, mugs of hot cocoa/coffee, before slipping into the fourth seat. "is there a reverse to that whole a pinch to grow an inch thing? i could use that."
"that's a myth," logan says, as virgil gets out a lighter to light the candle on the cake.
"yeah, you're gonna have to make a wish, too," roman says, nudging the cake closer to him. "and don't tell us what it is or it won't work!"
"it won't work regardless, but fine. as long as you don't sing again," logan says.
"we're saving that for saturday," patton says, squeezing his shoulder. "go on, kiddo."
logan sighs, and pretends as if he is very dismissive of the whole thing, even if he does make a wish.
(what? it's not like anyone knows he does it.)
the other three clap and cheer when he blows out the candle in one go, and virgil begins slicing up the coffee cake, even as he and roman start squabbling over who gets what slice and logan—
well. it's a pretty good start to his birthday.
(the additional birthday kiss roman gives him between bites of coffee cake and sips of hot cocoa/coffee are pretty nice too.)
(shut up.)
virgil sends him to school with a packed lunch of his favorites, and patton sends him off with a ruffle of his hair, and roman sends him off with another birthday kiss, and logan can't help but smile a little the whole bus ride to chilton.
it drops off his face when some sidles up to his locker with a sly little smirk.
"happy birthday."
logan scowls at dee, who opens up an envelope.
"at 4:03 in the morning, logan thomas sanders was born to—"
"what's that?" logan says, narrowing his eyes and snatching it away, scanning it, and—
oh. oh, no.
"see you tonight," dee simpers, snatching the envelope back, and logan grinds his teeth as dee flits away.
he texts roman during class when he can sneak his phone—the first time he's done so since he's gotten a phone.
logan: You are likely going to meet my nemesis tonight at my birthday dinner.
roman responds basically immediately, because he has no such qualms about sneaking out his phone during class.
roman: o shit fr?
logan: Apparently, my grandmother has invited him. Potentially some of my other classmates.
roman: so i gotta like... kill him. fight for ur honor. go full dueling rules. we draw pistols at sundown
roman: actually your gparents seem like the type of people to keep decorative swords
roman: bc like. i could use those. i could def use those
roman: pls let me use the swords
logan: I can understand the temptation, but I would have to insist you didn't
roman: you're no fun
logan: You're realizing this just now?
he tucks his phone into his pocket before he can read what roman responds with, and it takes him until he's waiting for the bus at the end of the day to glance at his screen again.
roman: hey now mr. birthday boy
roman: i'm the only one who can talk bad about you it's part of my best friend privileges
roman: mock yourself again and i break into your grandparents house to use their fancy schmancy swords on you
almost before he can think better of it, his thumbs are flying and he hits send before he can second-guess himself.
logan: Telling me you'll stab me sounds remarkably like you're trying to get out of birthday kisses
equally fast (equally unthought) the response comes
roman: i'll kiss u in a minute
logan: Is that meant to sound like a threat?
logan: Or is it a promise?
roman: wouldnt u like to kno
logan wouldn't say he glues his face to the window to see if a certain someone is waiting at the bus stop (but your author would, so.)
and he is!
...with a guest. logan tries not to scowl too obviously as he descends the bus.
"hey!" roman says happily, from where he's holding jess' hand. but he has what looks like lucy's for him in the other, so logan supposes it's all right.
"hey," logan echoes.
"hear it's your birthday," jess grunts.
"it is," logan says cautiously.
"yeah, well. happy birthday."
"...thank you."
"um, so, your dad's picking me up at 5:30, right?" roman says.
"yes," logan says. "wear a tie."
roman pulls a face. jess looks between them.
"my grandparents are throwing a party," logan says, by way of explanation.
"yeah, i wanna steal all their decorative swords," roman teases, grinning. "you've given me a goal for the evening."
"i suppose i'll have to spend the evening with you, to ensure you don't purloin any of my grandparents' possessions."
"guess you will," roman says cheerfully. "however, i'm gonna have to say a sword would so make up for whatever happens at your grandparents'."
logan tilts his head, conceding the point. jess clears his throat loudly.
"so, uh, roman, we should—"
"right! right," roman says, and bounces over to logan and hesitates. but then there's a rebellious gleam in his eyes. he rocks up onto his tiptoes just slightly, to press a lingering kiss against his cheek.
"seis," he whispers into logan's ear, warm breath making logan shiver in the november chill. roman pulls away and presses the shake into logan's hand. "happy birthday, logan."
jess' face has turned suddenly stormy. logan's responding smile feels rather sunny.
"see you at 5:30," logan says, and roman tugs jess along, to do whatever it is that they'll do.
logan brushes his fingers against his cheek with his free hand, and then he opens up the top of his shake, ready to eat his whipped cream as he walks home.
there's no cherry. roman must have stolen before he'd gotten there. logan spares a moment to wonder if he'd be able to taste it, if roman had directed his kiss just a few inches to the left—
logan clears his throat and hurries his way home.
his phone pings, then, with a notification from his other father, reading Happy birthday!
(logan doesn’t answer. logan never really answers. he’s sick of his other father swinging in and out of logan’s life when he feels like it, and he’s sick of the way his other father treats patton, like everything’s the same as it was when they were sixteen, and he’s sick of the way that his other father bolts and leaves his dad upset, and he’s just. he’s sick of it. so he doesn’t answer.)
he distracts himself by doing homework—his dad said he'd swing by the studio to pick up roman on his way back from the inn—so he loses himself in making a decent dent in his latin homework and reviewing some of the math material from today when he hears clattering on the stairs.
"shoot," he mutters under his breath, carefully marking his page. "i know, i know, i should get ready, i'm nearly—"
his voice dies in his throat.
it's not like he's never seen roman dressed up before, but for some reason, it's different, because he's wearing logan's colors. he's wearing indigo most prominently, his shirt, and black, his coat, and a lighter blue, his tie. he almost does a double take. logan's so used to him in his signature reds and whites and golds, he barely even knew that roman had cool colors in his wardrobe outside of dance costumes. it shouldn't be different but it is and—
("do you think he'll like it?" roman had asked patton shyly in the car.
"he'll love it," patton had said gently, not mentioning how roman has a boyfriend, or how his son would love anything roman wore or did, because he was roman.)
"you look," logan says, and swallows. he’s half-risen from his chair. when did he do that? and there's an odd jolt in his stomach. he's probably coming down with something. "good. you look good."
roman smiles, flits over to him, and rises to kiss logan on the cheek again, a fond little greeting he punctuates with a cheery "siete," and says, "thanks, logan."
"i should get ready," logan says, looking down at his chilton uniform.
"i wanna pick what you wear," roman says immediately.
logan heaves a sigh, but sits on his bed, with a sort of go on then gesture, and roman squeals happily and starts digging through logan's ties and dress shirts.
logan's half-expecting roman to pick something in white and red and gold for him, but no—roman pulls out one of his favorite black shirts and his favorite tie, complete with black waistcoat and jacket.
"classic logan," he decides, and hands over his choices. logan begins to change.
(it's not like they haven't done this, either—changed in front of each other. years of sleepovers and swimming outings and logan recruited to backstage crew and helping roman through quick changes. but now, roman feels the urge to turn his back—like it's suddenly become intimate now. which is ridiculous. he has a boyfriend. this thing with logan is—)
"satisfactory?" logan says, as he fastens the final button of his shirt and drapes his tie over his neck, under his collar.
"hang on, i wanna try doing a fancy knot," roman says, stepping forward, and logan drops his hands and tilts his chin up. he can look down enough to see roman biting his lip in concentration, though.
"look at you, you dapper young gentlemen!" patton says, when roman's tightening the knot and buttoning his waistcoat and smoothing his hands over logan's shoulders, smoothing away imaginary lint. (roman tries to tell himself it's not an excuse to touch him.)
logan turns to investigate himself in the mirror. roman has put a fancy, different knot in his tie, something other than his usual windsor. he brushes his fingers against where the tie's wound over and over itself.
"what's this knot called?" logan says.
"something i know and you don't, we should celebrate this as a new holiday," roman teases. "it's an eldredge."
he tilts his head. it seems fitting for a special occasion. he tells roman so.
"aw, thanks, sheriff of knottingham," roman teases, kisses logan on the cheek with an "ocho." before spinning back to see patton, hovering in the doorway, fingers pressed against his smiling lips.
"should we get going?" logan asks, clearing his throat.
"right, right, your grandma will kill me if we're late!" patton says. "but i figured, since it's technically your birthday, i could give you this early."
he brings something out from behind his back, shuffling a little to hold something else there, but logan's eyes have focused in on the present, wrapped in space-themed wrapping paper.
"thank you," he says in a rush, lest he get lectured on manners, and now he gets to find one out and—
he tears it open with a ferocious kind of glee, and falters.
"do you like it?" patton asks.
"it's a puzzle, you know i like puzzles," logan retorts.
it's true. he does like puzzles. but this does not fit the previous pattern of particularly sentimental gifts from patton established over the past fifteen years he's received presents on his birthday. it's a space puzzle, yes. it's something he enjoys, yes.
sentimental? not particularly.
"you'll have to solve it later," patton tells him.
"right, right, right," logan says. "we need to get going."
"right," patton says. then he bites his lip and lifts his camera from behind his back.
"no," logan groans, at the same time roman is putting on his most picturesque grin and tugging logan closer by the waist.
"i'll be quick about it!" patton defends, but logan has definitely heard that excuse before and it is a lie. oh god. especially if roman is in the pictures. roman loves having photos taken of himself, he's an absolute perfectionist about them so he takes approximately one million photos of himself (no he is NOT exaggerating) and then narrows down from there. how can logan possibly be in—
logan pastes on a smile rather than finish that thought.
⁂
hard cut to patton biting his lip as they pull up to the mansion.
"i told you we should have gotten going," logan tsks.
"we'll be forgiven once i mention pictures," patton says, unbuckling his seatbelt. "okay, um, roman, turn up the charming to eleven, i'm sure she'll love you because you're logan's friend. you're a natural at this. also please keep logan entertained. logan, i know these parties aren't your favorite—"
"ugh."
"—but behave, we're having the sideshire extravaganza tomorrow."
"dad, i should warn you," logan says, as they get out of the car, "i think dee slange will be here."
patton stiffens. "that dee slange?"
"it's not a common name, dad."
"she invited," patton began heatedly, before he huffs, shaking his head and muttering to himself, "i will not fight with a teenager at my son's birthday party, i will not fight with a teenager at my son's birthday party—"
"i could," roman suggests.
"no," logan and patton both chorus, and logan steps forward to knock at the door.
the door swings open almost immediately, like she was peeking through the window. she's beaming.
"there he is, the birthday boy," she declares.
"hi, grandma," logan says, as they step inside. "this is roman prince, he's my—my friend."
emily's eyes sharpen in a way that patton is familiar with at that particular stumble, but roman sweeps forward before she can say anything, taking her proffered hand and bowing to kiss the back of it.
"ma'am," roman says, having taken patton's advice. "it is an honor to meet you. thank you for being gracious enough to invite me to your beautiful home."
emily looks immediately mollified. "well, it's nice to meet you, too. i should have known a friend of logan's would have proper etiquette."
etiquette, roman mouths at logan as soon as her back is turned. logan pulls a face.
"wow, mom, you really went all out," patton says, attempting to shuffle out of the way of a pair of caterers toting trays as some servants straightened up the room.
"well, i wanted everything to be perfect," she says. "what do you think?"
"it looks great," patton says. he wants to keep the peace, he wants it so badly, and—
"grandma, i think i might give roman a bit of a tour, is that all right?" logan says.
"we'll call you down as soon as the first guests get here," patton says, and roman grins, bowing and gesturing the way ahead for logan.
"after you," he says, in a deep voice.
(as soon as they have rounded a corner, logan shoves him a little, which turns into a jostling session, which nearly turns into a hand slapping fight but they're spotted by a pair of decorators just in time to realize where they are.)
they do get called down, right as roman is attempting to bribe logan with even more birthday kisses to convince him to pull off a heist so he can steal a sword. logan is grateful, because his cheeks were so warm it was likely indicative of an incoming fever or something. not for any other reason.
"okay," patton says, juggling glasses as they descend the steps. "shirley temple with extra cherries for roman, a sprite for logan, and—"
"what are you drinking?" roman asks. patton looks momentarily guilty, before tipping his glass towards them so they can smell it. they both pull identical faces at the strength of it.
"sazerac," he says, so no one can hear. it's the strongest cocktail he knows of that can masquerade as just a fancy drink. "i might need you to drive."
"got it," logan says.
"i'd recommend sticking to the foods you can recognize that don't smell funny," he says, in the same undertone. "um, roman, logan's grandparents will probably drag him away, so—"
"i'll stick with one of you, got it," roman says. "how often do you think i should slip into spanish to make the old white people uncomfortable?"
patton looks severely tempted by this offer.
"logan!" emily says, interrupting the conversation before they could settle on a specific code word or gesture. "there you are. come, there's some people i want you to meet."
logan gives roman a help look as he's tugged away. behind roman and patton, a voice says, "patton?"
"yeah?" he says absently, turning, and then— "oh my god! oh, mitzie! wow, i haven't seen you since—"
"your seventh month!"
"jesus christ," roman says, mouth hanging slightly open.
"i was going to say high school, but okay," patton says, shooting roman a patton-ted dad look.
"oh, no, did i say something rude?" she asks, distressed.
"no, no—"
"no, i did, i said something rude," she frets. "i've been trying to work on that."
"well, we've all got things to work on," patton tries.
"ever since my divorce, that's been my line of thinking," mitzie says, nodding rapturously. "you know, i just—i just want to grow."
"yep."
"wow. patton sanders, the scandal g—um, person!"
roman's eyes narrow dangerously.
"now, tell me," she continues, "whatever happened with christopher?"
"oh," patton says. "well, he's out in california, and—"
"oh, god, i'm so sorry, is this painful for you to talk about?!"
"um, well—"
"when did he last call you?!"
"god, you're making progress with that rude thing," roman says, and mitzie blinks.
"do i know you?"
"this is roman prince, he's a good friend of logan's," patton says, happy to change the subject.
mitzie blinks. "who?"
"logan? my kid!" he says proudly, and turns to point at where logan is surrounded by a gaggle of old women.
"oh, wow!" she says. "you can really see the christopher in him, can't you?"
"he's like a carbon copy of patton," roman says, frowning. patton takes a healthy gulp of his sazerac.
"you know what, mitz, it's been great to see you," patton says, "but i see someone i wanted to introduce roman to, if you'll excuse me."
they make a retreat.
"are they all like that?" roman says.
"oh, no," patton says. "not all the time, it's usually—"
roman's staring at him, like, uh-huh, suuuure. patton fidgets, and says in a lowered voice, "this is the first big party i've gone to other than the yearly thanksgiving and christmas parties since logan was born."
"oh," roman says, and that absurdly strong cocktail is starting to make sense now.
"yeah," patton says. "so i'm just a little... nervous. that's all."
logan has managed to circle back, holding a tiny pile of envelopes and looking confused.
"i'll take those," patton says, scooping the pile out of his hands and tucking them into an inside pocket of his jacket. "how are things going so far?"
"i think one of grandma's friends just asked me if i wanted to go for a round of golf, even after i told her i don't play."
patton grins. "big beehive hairdo?"
"yes."
"that's gloria," patton says, and imitates his father's tone in a whisper. "the most odious woman alive. i would have thought that they'd squirmed out of feeling obligated to invite her to most things, by now. god knows mom came up with thirty different schemes when i was in school."
the evening passes like that—patton or roman holding down a corner as logan's trotted around and shown off to various guests. patton's cheeks get pinker and pinker and he gets gigglier throughout the night. roman listens raptly to patton's decade-old gossip, or tries his best to make the old women giggle and blush and pinch his cheeks, or does his best, most daring getaways to sneak off as many birthday kisses in private to logan as he possibly can.
well, it passes like that mostly until logan retreats to their corner and frowns to see patton alone.
"where'd roman go?"
"i think he went to brave the catering," patton says, and presses the back of his hand to his cheek, feeling how cool it is compared to his face. "is it warm in here to you?"
"you're intoxicated," logan says, "and i am not, so no."
"oh, that's what it is," patton says musingly.
(patton's not much of a drinker—he's got a kid at home, after all. he has the occasional glass of wine at a meal, if it's sweet enough, and he doesn't like beer. cocktails on occasion, and almost never more than one. he left most of his drinking days back in his wild teenage years, though virgil did take him out for his twenty-first birthday... but that's a whole other story.)
"i think i might check the catering too," logan says. "see if there's anything other than cheese, crackers, and grapes that are, you know. edible."
"godspeed," patton says, and tilts his cup at logan in a toast.
"you're all right here?"
"i'm fine," patton says fondly. "i'll hold down the chairs, and all your presents, go on."
logan nods, says, "drink some water," and turns on his heel to hunt after roman.
he's waylaid by his grandfather and a group of dour businessmen, who present him with near-identical envelopes that he thanks them for by rote and tucks into his coat's pockets before he chances upon the library, glancing in, and—
logan's striding forward before he can think of it, and dee turns, smiling at logan smarmily.
"roman," logan says.
"hey!" roman says. "i was just talking to someone from your new school, um—"
"dee," logan says. "dee slange."
the smile drops off roman's face. he takes a brief step back. "oh."
"now, now," dee says to roman. "we were getting along so well, weren't we? i see you haven't heard the best things about me. logan, tsk tsk. wasn't this invite a gesture toward letting bygones be bygones?"
"you know full well i didn't invite you," logan snaps.
dee spreads his gloved hands. "and yet here i am."
"yes," logan says distastefully. "you've made your appearance, now go."
dee smirks, tweaking his bowtie. "perhaps i will."
"you should."
"and perhaps you shouldn't tell roman what opinions he should have, he's a big boy who can think on his own," dee says. "or do you not think so?"
"get out."
dee laughs mockingly, even as he leaves the library.
"ugh, what a creep," roman huffs. "i can't believe i thought he was nice."
"he's good at getting into people's good graces," logan says. "good at telling people the exact things they do or don't want to hear, depending on which will further his own interests."
"he wasn't dressed quite as much like a disney villain today," roman says. "i thought patton said he looked like a disney villain."
"he usually pairs a cape with the bowler hat and gloves," logan says dryly.
"oh, okay. now i can see it."
logan realizes that they're now alone in the library, with no fear of interruptions, for the first time since they've been called down to greet the guests. logan wants to reach out and touch roman's shoulder, amongst other things, but instead he sighs and clenches his hands in fists behind his back. he has a boyfriend, he reminds himself, he has a boyfriend, he kisses you because it's tradition and he has a boyfriend now.
“how is everything going? with jess,” leaps out of logan’s mouth before he can really even stop it, and roman looks startled.
“i—oh. i mean it’s.... going,” he says, and then, hastily, “going well!”
“oh?”
“he’s been,” roman says, and glances around, then back up at logan to look him in the eyes,. “i know the way the first date ended didn’t give the best first impression, but he’s been a perfect gentleman. i really... it really is going well.”
logan isn’t sure if he’s pleased that his best friend’s relationship is going well—he isn’t lying, logan can tell by the look in his eye, he can tell that roman really likes him—or, well...
“good,” logan says. “i hope i wasn’t interrupting anything, earlier today. when you met me at the bus stop.”
“oh, no,” roman says. “no, no. we’d just facetimed a friend of his, from back home. we’d just finished when i realized the time and i figured it would be nice to meet you.”
“a friend of his?” logan repeats.
“yeah,” roman says, and smiles up at him. “he reminds me of you, kinda. well, him and jess remind me of me and you. they’ve been best friends since they were in kindergarten, too.”
logan feels the corner of his lip quirk up, bitter, without his meaning to. he reminds me of you. jess and his decidedly platonic friend, who he introduced to his brand-new boyfriend.
“i’d like you to get to know him better,” roman says. “i know that your schedules are kind of exactly the opposite, but—“
“no, of course,” logan says. “of course. if it’ll make you happy.”
and he means that. really. if jess will make roman happy...
then it means that roman will be happy. and that’s what’s important to logan.
roman smiles at him, and there’s something in his eyes that makes logan want to tilt his head, get in closer, investigate, but roman turns his head to glance around the library.
“gotta say,” he says, voice light, “i’d think a few more swords would make me a bit happier. bet we can steal up the stairs right now and make our daring escape from the latest gathering of the walking dread.”
when he turns his head back, his eyes are glittering with mischief, with a joke. the prior thing must have been a fluke. an effect of the lighting. he supposes.
"i know this party can't be very fun for you," logan says. roman shrugs.
"it's not so bad," he says. "your dad's getting tipsy, and that's kinda funny. plus he apparently has a really good memory for super old gossip, i've been hearing all kinds of stories."
"speaking of stories?" logan hedges, and roman grins.
"ah, you've been unusually quiet about it this year."
"just one hint," logan bursts out.
(this is a tradition too—roman is not free from logan's curiosity. roman traditionally writes him a story for his birthday. for example, last year's featured logan gallivanting through old-timey london with hercule poirot. every year the setting is different. every year it seems to get bigger and better.)
"nope," roman says, grinning. "it'd give everything away—"
his eyes widen, and logan looks triumphant.
"you've linked presents!"
"i didn't say that!"
"no, you said it'd give everything away," logan says, eyes gleaming like they always do when he gets a hint of a mystery, the bittersweet news of roman’s relationship with jess almost forgotten. (almost.)
"which means you'd give someone else's present away. whose is it? virgil's? dad's? both?"
"oh, my god, just take me somewhere i can find decent food in this house," roman grumbles, leading the way out of the library.
"but you probably collaborated with them," logan continues, even as he's practically skipping with the reveal of a clue, a clue, a clue!!!
(roman's smiling. it's probably because it's just funny to see logan act undignified. not because of the pleased gleam in his eyes or the way he smiles at roman or the way he turns gleeful about a mystery or anything.)
(shut up.)
"which means that there's likely a common theme or thread to the presents. patton got me a puzzle, which means i could attempt to deduce your story idea with that clue and work from there—"
"logan, there you are!"
logan nearly groans and roman barely manages to stifle a laugh.
"i think it's time you said a few words to your guests."
logan turns from gleeful to slightly panicked so fast it makes roman a little dizzy.
"what?"
"just a little speech to say thank you and tell everyone how it feels to be one year older," emily says.
logan clears his throat. "i'm not one for particularly grand gestures."
"no, but i am," comes out of roman's mouth. "would it be all right if i did a toast instead, mrs. sanders? it's a bit of a tradition back at sideshire for—well, for someone else to toast someone on their birthday."
particularly, it's tradition for patton to toast logan on his birthday, but, you know. partial truths are still true. right?
"logan can thank everyone as they're leaving," roman says, warming to the idea, and logan looks a touch relieved—that's a social script he has memorized, not something sprung on him willy-nilly.
"well—"
"great!" roman chirps over her, grabs his mostly abandoned shirley temple from patton, and an abandoned spoon before she can say anything else. he gently clangs the spoon against it with a subtle ting-ting-ting that has the room quieting obediently.
roman clears his throat, and puts on his most dazzling smile.
"hello!" he says, jovial. "i'm afraid i haven't met most of you yet, so i may as well introduce myself. i'm roman prince. my best friend is someone who happens to be turning sixteen today—just there," he says, pointing unnecessarily. logan's reclaimed his sprite, staring at roman, like the rest of the room is.
does roman love performing? yes, of course, he's a prince, it's in his blood. does he still get a little nervous? yes, of course, he's a human person, it's in his blood.
does it all fall away, when he focuses on how logan's staring at him intently? well. yes, of course. he's roman prince. it's in his blood. how he feels about logan is as unchangeable as his blood.
"so, it's actually a bit of a tradition, where we're from, for someone to toast someone on their birthday," roman says. "usually, it's his dad, but today, logan's letting me take over, which i assure you is not a sentence i can say often."
a soft chuckle.
"but, um. i met logan when i was five, but a lot of my life i can't remember before he was in it," roman says. "i think a lot of it wouldn't be worth remembering, anyway, without my partner in crime, the sherlock to my john watson, the spock to my kirk, the hercule poirot to my arthur hastings. i'm really not sure who i'd be without him. i don't think i ever want to find out."
silence, now. complete and utter silence. logan's still just... staring at him. roman takes a breath in.
"logan. you're smart, you're ambitious, you're witty and clever and funny, you're stubborn as hell. you're passionate and thoughtful and intense about the things you care about. it's been an honor to be one of them. it's been an honor to grow up with you. the first sixteen years of you have been so good, i cannot wait to see how the rest of them turn out. to logan."
he lifts up his glass, and the other party-goers chorus "to logan!" and there's the clinking of glasses as people cheers and drink and roman takes a cursory sip before he steps back toward the corner, where patton had gotten out his phone to record and is pressing his fingers against his lips again, smiling huge, and logan is still staring.
"happy birthday," roman tells him.
logan's staring.
"sorry if you really wanted to make a speech, i know you sometimes like that kind of thing and i kind of took over fast."
staring.
"...hello? earth to logan?"
very suddenly, logan's arms are around him, and just like that, logan is hugging him.
logan is not a hugger. he tolerates hugs for the people around him—see roman's birthday tradition of tackling him every year, or even birthday kisses. roman initiates, logan tolerates. it's the way he is. in moments of weakness, he maybe leans into it. but roman cannot remember a single time that logan has initiated a hug.
roman can't help but close his eyes, though, and squeeze him closer, because—because logan's hugging him.
"i really mean it," roman whispers into his ear.
"i know," logan says.
"but if you tell anyone i meant it, i'll blackmail you with the fact that you hugged me. of your own free will."
"i know," logan says again, except this time there's a laugh in his voice, and he pulls away.
his lips aren't laughing. neither are his eyes. they're staring at roman, like—like he's the clue that logan wants to solve. like he's the mystery that logan wants to dissemble and lay bare and analyze breathlessly, making sure every single little detail is correct before writing an article about it, and—
"well done," emily says from behind him, delighted, and roman forces himself to turn away from logan, from that look in his eyes.
"thank you," roman says.
"are you an orator?"
"roman's the star of sideshire," patton pipes up, and oh god, patton had seen all of that, hadn't he? and patton knew. "he's a dancer and a singer and an actor. triple threat."
"are you?" emily says.
"my mother's isadora prince," he says proudly, and oh, yeah, his mom's name still gets awe and attention. take that, people who thought she wouldn't be a star.
"is she," emily says. "goodness, i wondered, it's not exactly a common last name, and logan mentions the dance studio so often..."
there's an analytical look in her eyes as she stares at him. "have you considered pursuing it professionally? ballet, i mean."
"a lot," roman admits. "i'd want to go back and teach at the studio, too. even if i don't make principal dancer somewhere—"
"you will," logan says. "if you go out for it, you would."
roman smiles at him, just a little.
"i simply must introduce you to my friend at tisch," she muses, and roman nearly chokes on his tongue.
"the—the new york tisch?" roman asks. the widely-regarded-as-one-of-the-best-ballet-programs-in-the-country, tisch?? his-wildest-secret-dream-top-choice-for-college, tisch?!?!?!
"my dear, i'm sure you'll be remarkable," she says warmly. "but when you ascend to stardom, you just remember who discovered you."
roman's over the moon. he's over the stars, in fact. logan and patton exchange a slightly uneasy glance behind his back.
the party passes pretty smoothly from there. logan stands at the door and thanks each person for coming. he returns to find roman and patton and his grandparents in the living room, chit-chatting.
"is there anything we can do to help, mom?" patton asks her warmly.
"no, no, no," emily says. "the servants will take care of it."
"right, yeah," patton says.
"thank you again for inviting me," roman says. "and—and thank you again, for offering to talk to someone at tisch."
"talent like yours, my dear, should never be hidden," emily says. "i must see you dance sometime, and meet your mother."
"the sideshire dance studio loans out with the ballet here in the city for the nutcracker every december," roman says.
"then i have seen you before!" she says. "richard and i go every year."
"i'm the sugar plum cavalier this year," he says proudly, and her eyebrows shoot up.
"my, aren't you young for it?"
"like i said," logan says. "he's very, very good."
roman smiles bashfully at logan, who smiles back.
patton then says something suddenly that he will blame on the alcohol tomorrow.
"mom, you and dad should come to logan's party in sideshire tomorrow."
she looks startled. even a little shocked. then—
"well, that would be... lovely."
"it'll, um," patton says, scrambling, because he just invited his parents to his house for the first time EVER. "it'll be different than this one, but it'll be fun, and—"
"logan is my grandson," she says. "we'll be there."
"right," patton says. "um, great. it's at seven."
"you boys should all get going," she says. she still looks slightly confused, but—pleased? "it's a long drive."
logan tolerates his hug, roman kisses her hand again, and patton says, "um, boys, why don't you warm up the car? i'll be right out."
they take the keys. then patton does something that shocks emily even more.
he leans forward to hug her—quick, bright, heartfelt.
"i'm really happy we're getting to know each other, mom."
"i already know you," emily says. "you aren't some huge mystery to me, you're my son."
it isn't the usual barb that might be, even if there is a slightly sharp undertone to it. but that's better than nothing. especially since she said my son—no hesitation, no sneer. matter-of-fact. my son.
"well," patton says, and draws back smiling. "everyone can get to know someone better, even someone they've known for years. learn something new every day, right?"
"i suppose," she says, then, "you aren't driving, are you?"
patton laughs sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. "no, no, logan is."
"good."
"the cocktails are stronger than i remember."
"you ordered sazeracs."
"mom—"
"they have absinthe, patton, i really don't know what you could have expected other than an absurdly strong cocktail. are you always this libatious at parties, or is my party a special occasion?"
"okay, mom, gotta go, bye!"
100 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
veraforgottenheart
There’s A Thin Line Between Love And Hate…
bigbear1983
Untitled
kuriyama-mirai
i don't feel unpleasant anymore
uncertainkitten
idk anymore
connectpeoplework-blog
Untitled