#i feel like I discovered that the square hole is for the square peg
Text
It's often like
why didn't creators of [canon] think about [a way to make the plot make more sense]? It's so obvious!
Having just fixed my wip fanfic with like 5 words after agonizing over a dodgy plot point for roughly three months... yeah, it was obvious...
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's the tutorial that no one asked for! And I blew my entire day on it, so you better appreciate it! :) No, seriously, this is as much for me as for anyone else. I don't do this process often, and when I do, I have to re-remember the steps, and sometimes I forget some of them and have to figure it out again. This will save future me from having to do that.
Even if you aren't me, if you're interested in being able to place diving lots in most any world you like and that has ocean, this will be relevant to your interests. Unfortunately, it is a sometimes fiddly process to get a working lot at the end, and I went into a lot of detail, so the tutorial is long, but please do follow it closely because if you skip a step or mess anything up, your lot will be wonky or it might not work at all, and I don't want to hear your whining. :)
Note that this is a tutorial for placing a new, empty diving lot, which is the first step in placing a downloaded diving lot or one that you yoinked from another world, but this tutorial doesn't cover how to get such lots working. This just shows you how to place an empty lot, which I'm assuming for this tutorial's purpose that you will then build/decorate yourself. Frankly, I've discovered that building your own is much easier than trying to ram square pegs into round holes, which is what placing downloaded dive lots often feels like, even if you know what you're doing. It can be as time-consuming, if not more time-consuming, to get a pre-made lot placed and working than it does to just build your own.
So, here we go.
Step 1: Pick Your Poison.
Choose the world/save you'd like to plop a dive lot into, open it, and go into Edit Town. You can use any world you want, EA or custom, so long as it has accessible ocean in it. (More on that in Step 3.) I'm going to use Sunlit Tides, just because many people want to put dive lots in it yet can't always get them working.
Step 2: Cheats!
You need some cheats, so open the cheat box by pressing Control+Shift+C and then enter these three:
testingcheatsenabled true
buydebug on
enablelotlocking on
Note that you need to enable testing cheats first because the other two aren't available otherwise.
Step 3: Placing the Lot.
Go into World Editor and in the Lots submenu of it choose the lot size you want:
As far as I know, a dive lot can be any size you want from the minumum 10x10 to the maximum 64x64, any of the EA standard sizes or any custom size you might add using this mod. If you are bound and determined to try and place a downloaded/yoinked lot, then in my experience, it's best to make the new lot a little bigger than the lot you want to place, if possible, so that you have some wiggle room to get it to fit better. But, I'm assuming you're going to build your own here.
If you plan to do lots of terrain sculpting on your dive lot, bigger is better. That said, unless you're going to do something really elaborate, it doesn't have to be 64x64, the largest possible size, either. Smaller will mean that your prospective lot will fit in more places on the map. So, it's up to you. For this, I'm just going to place a 30x30 lot, because I'm not going to build/decorate it or anything.
Now, it needs to be said that not every world will be able to have diving lots. The world must have ocean, obviously, and that ocean must be routable or else sims won't be able to get to it. The ocean also has to be deep enough. Generally speaking, "deep enough" is if the water is dark blue. (Or green, or whatever color the lighting mod you use might make it.)
For instance, in Sunlit Tides here, it's pretty obvious where the deeper water is:
But you know what? I'm going to place a dive lot in some of the shallower water, anyway, because I/you actually can, within reason. And if you're interested in doing this in Sunlit Tides, I'll warn you that the deep spot in the pic above has a very uneven bottom. It's really not a good place to put a dive lot. And I'm not sure what the deep water on the outskirts of the map is like, but the good news is that much of the deeper and flat-bottomed shallows, as I've noted, work well.
So: With your chosen lot size selected, move your cursor around in the ocean where it seems to you that the water is "deep enough" until you come to a spot you like and where the lot grid is green. If the grid is never green, then the ocean likely isn't routable at all and you won't be able to place diving lots in that world. I have never run into that, myself, but I also haven't done this all that often, so it's certainly possible. Anyway, I'm picking here:
My advice would be to not make your lot too far off-shore even if you can do so, or else it will take sims a long time to get to it. Especially merfolk, because they always swim out to dive lots rather than take a water taxi, and they swim much more slowly than a water taxi moves. Once you find your spot, go ahead and place the lot. Doing so will create a square island, not a sunken lot. That's fine. We'll fix it in a moment.
Step 4: Change the Lot Type.
Click the lot's icon and change the lot type to community and then choose "Diving Area" as the subtype:
Note that this option will only show if you've enabled lot locking. So if you didn't enter that cheat up in Step 2 or if you entered it incorrectly, rectify that situation now so that you can set the lot type.
Step 5: Sinking the Lot
Enter the lot and flatten it with this tool in build mode:
This will submerge the lot so that it's level with the sea floor rather than being an island. You can now move the camera down under the water and have a look at your potential diving area, like so:
In particular, check the edges of the lot to see if there are any huge drop-offs or other great differences between the level of your lot and the surrounding terrain. Whether or not this will happen is world-dependent. Some worlds have very uneven/jagged underwater areas, which is what will make you end up with drop-offs, while others, like Sunlit Tides here, are (mostly) pretty flat.
You can see in the above pic that this lot is a little sunken along two of its sides. That's fine; that small amount of difference can easily be smoothed out with the terrain sculpting tools. If there are steep drop-offs or upward slopes, you can sculpt the lot to try to blend it with its surroundings, but be advised that 1) Interactable objects like dive caves can't be placed on uneven terrain and still be usable and 2) If you end up really deep down, the camera goes wonky and it's frustrating-to-impossible to build or play the lot. So, if you've got a huge drop-off and/or a steep upward slope on one or more of the edges of your lot, I'd recommend just trying a different spot. But, it's up to you. If you feel you can work with the uneven edges in some way, have at it. You are braver than me.
Step 6: Save that MFer.
Once you have a lot you're satisfied with, this is a good time to save. So, go back to Edit Town and do that.
I recommend saving often during this entire process because, I don't know about your game, but sometimes mine will "hang" or even crash when moving between Edit Town and Build/Buy, especially if I do it a lot. And with this process, you will be doing it a lot, not to mention exiting out to the main menu and then going back into the save a few times. Since getting a dive lot placed can be a fiddly business, it sucks to lose a lot of progress to a hang/crash. So, in my opinion, you can't save too often, but in this tute I'll only prompt you to do it when you must.
Step 7: Exit Stage Right
Remember long ago in the last step how I said you'll be exiting to the main menu a few times? Yeah, the first time is now. You do this because, for whatever reason, the game doesn't register changes made to the "structure" of dive lots without exiting and re-entering the save. So do that. Once it's reloaded go back into Edit Town and then back into the new diving lot. Because now it's time to place a dive buoy.
Step 8: Deploy Buoy
The dive buoy is located in the debug items, so if you haven't turned on access to that yet, do so now. Then, go into the buy menu, sort it "by function," not the default "by room," and you should see this question mark here:
Click that, and then I recommend that you go to the filters on the right-hand side of the menu and choose just Island Paradise objects. Because you'll be going into the "Misc. Objects" tab and, especially if you have all EPs/SPs, there's a crap-ton of objects in there to sort through. So, filter, then choose the "Misc. Objects" tab, and you'll see this much-more-manageable selection:
Choose the dive buoy, as indicated, and place it anywhere on your dive lot. It doesn't matter where because (spoiler alert) this one's going to be deleted, anyway.
Step 9: Ogle That Shapely Buoy
Once your buoy is placed, move your camera down to the ocean surface and have a closer look at it. Like so:
See how the ball part of it is just sitting on the surface of the ocean? That's bad. If you were to leave it like that, you'd have sims (and sharks, if you place a surface shark spawner) swimming/snorkeling in the air, if the lot would work at all. But don't panic! We can fix it. We just need to shift the entire lot down a l'il bit, so let's do it!
Step 10: Copy the Lot to the Library
Go back out to Edit Town. Check to make sure that your lot designation is still "Diving Area." (Because during this process, it will sometimes change.) Then, save the lot to your library. The game will give you a warning about cancelling all sim interactions or something. That's fine. Just put a copy of the lot in the library. The thumbnail in the community lot catalog will look like a blue square.
Why are you doing this, you ask? Because now you're going to bulldoze the original. Why? Because we need to move the entire lot down a little bit, and you can only do that by placing a fresh copy of the lot. And you may need to do this several times until you get it at the right depth, so having a copy of the lot in your library is necessary. You can delete it out of the library once you've got your dive lot in the right place, if you want.
Step 11: I'm a Steamroller, Baby
Once you've got a copy of the lot safely in your library, bulldoze the original lot you placed. Once bulldozed, the game will change the lot designation back to "No Visitors Allowed," so you'll need to change it back to "Diving Area."
Step 12: Go Down on That Lot
To move the lot down when it's placed, you need this cheat activated:
setimportedterrainoffset -0.1
The value at the end can be whatever you want, as many decimal places as you want. A positive number will move the lot up, and a negative number will move it down. (You can use a larger negative number to make deeper a lot that's too shallow, and it can also be helpful if you're intending to try to place a downloaded diving lot on this lot so that it might better match the depth of the water in whatever world it came out of, but this won't always have the effect you want. For one, your lot will be down in a hole.) For the purposes of this tute, all I need to do is move the lot down a teeny bit so that the dive buoy on the lot is sitting IN and not ON the surface of the water. Hence, the -0.1 value.
(Now, I should mention that other tutes I've seen will have you just lower the terrain right under the buoy to sink it a little bit rather than doing this bulldoze-and-replace-with-a-whole-lowered-lot thing I do. This method can work, but I don't like it for various reasons that I won't go into for brevity's sake. I'm just telling you what I do, which has worked every time I've placed a dive lot, including shallow-water ones like this one.)
Step 13: Re-Placing the Lot
Go into your library and place your saved lot back where it was. DO NOT ROTATE IT or else things will get screwed up. (Namely, your lot will become an island again and resinking it won't really work.) Just click "Accept." And then check its lot designation and change it to "Diving Area" again, if necessary, which it probably will be because stupid game.
Step 14: Ogle that Shapely Buoy 2, Electric Boogaloo
Now, enter build mode and move the camera down to the ocean surface again to check the dive buoy. Ideally, it will now be sitting IN, not ON, the water, like so:
If it's still sitting on the surface, the lot needs to be deeper and therefore moved down farther, so go back to Edit Town, bulldoze the lot again, change the value of the imported terrain offset cheat to a larger negative number (Perhaps -0.5) and try again. Be aware that, as I said, once you get to larger numbers (as in greater than -5 or so) you start ending up with your diving lot down in a hole, which may or may not be workable.
Now, there is a marker on the buoy, the little black rectangle I outlined in the pic above. If the ball part of the buoy is at least partly in the water but that marker is still above the water, as in the above pic, the lot will still work, but there will be a "hop" (and sometimes a pause) when a water taxi or a swimming merperson crosses the boundary of the lot. The higher the marker is above the water line, the larger that "hop" will be. (Because, if you haven't figured it out yet, the dive buoy is what tells the game where sims can swim, vertically, on a dive lot.)
If such a hop doesn't bother you, you can leave the buoy as-is. If you're a perfectionist like me, you go back to Edit Town, bulldoze the lot, and change the value of the terrain offset cheat to try again. Do this as often and with as many decimal places as your level of perfectionism demands. :) I'm not that fussy, so I usually just move the lot down in increments of 0.1 until the marker is at or below the water line but the ball of the buoy is not completely underwater because you don't want the ball completely underwater, either. At least some of it needs to be above water. So, fiddle as much or as little as you feel you need to.
(For reference/scale, the gap between the marker and the water line in the above pic would probably be fixed by an offset of about -0.15 instead of -0.1. But it would also be fine as-is unless a little hop at the lot boundary will bother you.)
Step 15: Bye-Bye Buoy!
Once you have the lot so that the buoy is where you want it, DELETE THE BUOY. I repeat: DELETE THE BUOY. Yes, DELETE THE BUOY. For whatever reason, dive lots drawn from your library that contain buoys won't work. I don't know why. They just don't. You need to place a fresh buoy. (I'm pretty sure this is why lots of people can't get downloaded dive lots or lots that they pulled from other worlds to work. Sometimes the answer is simply to delete the buoy, if the lot came with one, and place a fresh one.)
Step 16: Exit Stage Left
Once you have DELETED THE BUOY and only once you have DELETED THE BUOY, go back to Edit Town, check to make sure the lot is still designated as a diving area (and change it back if necessary) and save. Why? Because now you need to exit to the main menu and reload the save again. So do that.
Step 17: Fresh Meat Buoy!
Once the save is reloaded, go back into Edit Town, and check to make sure the dive lot is still designated as one. Redesignate, if necessary. Then, go into build/buy and place a fresh buoy, just as you did before. This one will be staying permanently, so place it where you actually want it to be. (Which really doesn't matter; aside from defining the vertical space of the diving lot, it just designates where your sim "enters" the lot.) If you want the lot to generate sharks on the surface, you can also place surface shark spawners now, too, as few or as many as you want, and because you have properly adjusted the height of the lot, the spawned sharks will not be swimming in the air. The spawners are also in debug mode, under the fish spawners. (There is also a spawner for underwater sharks. Do not put that one on the surface. Make sure you only put surface shark spawners on the surface.)
Step 18: Set the Lot's Skill Level
You set the required skill level for the diving lot by going to buy mode (if you left it), making sure the hand tool is active, and then holding down control and shift while clicking on the dive buoy. Choose the option "Set Required Diving Level…" from the menu that comes up:
…and then from the resulting options under that choose a NON-ZERO number. For some bizarro reason, buoys default to level zero when placed, and a diving lot set to skill level zero is inaccessible even if a sim has level 10 scuba skill. (Good move, EA! Why is zero even an option if it doesn't work??) So, pick whatever skill level you'd like, so long as it ISN'T ZERO. (I suspect that this is another reason why people can't get downloaded dive lots that they place in a world to work.) Once you have the skill level set, go back to Edit Town and save.
Step 19: Test
And now you're pretty much done. All that's left is to test the thing to make sure the lot works before you bother with building/decorating it. So, return to the game and send a victim to your new, empty lot and see if they successfully arrive (with or without a "hop" at the lot boundary) and successfully get themselves underwater. (My advice, for testing purposes, is to just give the sim you pick enough diving skill to use the lot. This can be done with NRAAS Master Controller.) Don't bother with doing anything further with the lot until you make sure it works.
Here is evidence that my lot, though shallow, works:
If your lot doesn't work, then something went wrong somewhere. Most likely, you missed a step or did a step wrong. I know there are a lot of words here, but they're all necessary to (more or less) guarantee a working lot in the end. So, try again. It's possible that you will have to pick a different location and start over, but I've been able to get a lot working wherever I've placed one, so long as it was in deep-enough routable ocean.
Step 20: PROFIT!
Assuming that your lot works, "all" that's left is to build it! :D I'm not going to go into detail about that. It's all up to you. You can sculpt the terrain, paint it with whatever terrain paints you want, place objects, whatever. If you're in shallower water, any objects you place that are tall enough to stick out of the water will just be chopped off at the water line; you won't be able to see the rest above water. The corals and stuff are in debug mode under "Underwater Objects," but if you don't want the tropical look, so long as you have moveobjects turned on, you can place (almost) any object you want down there, aside from things like walls and fences and other build items that can't be drawn underwater. Rocks, plants, trees, columns, and anything from the buy and debug catalogs are all good. If such an object has a function, sims won't be able to use them, though. They'll just become deco. (So, no underwater basketweaving sculpting. Sorry.) So, go to town. Have fun. For this tute, I'll just mention a couple objects and their settings and we'll finally be done.
Miscellaneous Objects:
First, treasure chests. Like the dive buoy, they're located in the "Misc. Objects" of debug mode. There are two versions, one for land and one for water. Obviously, on a diving lot, you want the water one if you want any at all. If you do want to use them on your lot, place down as many as you want, and then set the diving skill level necessary to open each one and designate the treasure each one will hold. You do both by holding down control and shift while in buy mode with the hand tool active and clicking on a chest, just like setting the skill level of the lot on the buoy. This brings up this menu:
The "Assign Treasure" option gives you eight different treasures for the chest. You simply pick the one you want. The "Set Required Skill Level" option allows you to assign the diving skill necessary to open the selected chest. You can choose any number you like from 0 to 10. (Yes, zero is OK for this purpose, even though no one with zero skill can scuba dive, so…Yay EA.)
Then there's the dive caves. I think they are in the "Underwater Objects" section of the debug catalog; I'm not sure because a mod I use moves them to the regular rock section. Anyway, there are two styles, which you're probably familiar with, but they both function the same way. If you have more than one of them in the world, even if they're all on the same lot, your sims can travel between them, much like a subway. Unfortunately, I can't show you how to set this up because that mod I use to move the caves to the rock section also makes them recolorable, but it breaks setting up this functionality and I don't feel like hunting the mod down and taking it out. But it's pretty easy. You Control-Shift-Click on each one, give them a name, and then you can connect them by using the names you give them. Again, it works much like subways. It's pretty self-explanatory.
Finally, there's the fog emitter. If you're unfamiliar with this object, it's a base game object located in the "Misc. Objects" section of the debug catalog. The thumbnail in the catalog looks like this:
And it looks like this when it's placed:
They can be used on any lot, they disappear in live mode, and they can generate not just fog but many, many different effects. Literally thousands of different effects. You place the emitter where you want, and then control-shift-click on it and choose "Set Visual Effect" from the resulting menu:
When you click on it, you get this:
In that window, you type/paste the code for the effect you want. Of course, you will need to know the code for the effect you want. For your convenience, I've uploaded my list of effect codes, which is complete and includes the codes from all EPs, here. It's just a text file, and the codes are in alphabetical order. Since the list is all-EPs, some of them may not work if you don't have the EP the effect comes from, but if that's the case, then any such code you enter simply won't do anything.
The most relevant effects for a diving lot all start with "ep10," but there are others you could possibly use, too. Some of the names of the codes are more helpful than others in terms of knowing what it will do. Generally, you need to experiment. But, you can add schools of fish, single (but non-catchable) fish of all kinds (if you want catchable fish to spawn, you need to use the spawners, not the fog emitter), sharks (non-interactable), light rays, bubbles, glows, fog, all sorts of things, if you're patient enough to go through the list, look for interesting possibilities, and try them out to see if they will work for you. There are whole tutorials dedicated to the object, if you look for them. There's also a mod that makes them shiftable, which can be very useful, here.
One final suggestion:
If you go through this process in a world that you know or even just suspect that you'll want to use again and you'll want the dive lot(s) you made in that future save, for the love of pie keep a copy of this save file somewhere. That way you won't have to go through all this crap again. Because even if you save a copy of your finished lot, unless you manage to place the empty initial lot in the new save in the exact spot you placed it when you built the lot, it's not likely to be quite right. So beware.
And with that, I think we're done here. If anyone has any questions, or if you decide to try to make your own diving lot and have questions along the way, feel free to hit me up and I'll do my best to help. Just keep in mind that I'm not an expert by any means.
262 notes
·
View notes
Text
One of the reasons why I don’t like the whole 3 brothers/3 sisters trope is because it goes against what SJM is trying to set up for Elain.
For most of her life, Elain has been sheltered and protected by Feyre and Nesta. It was something that she benefited from and didn’t question. However, when she was Made, it wasn’t either Feyre or Nesta who knew what she needed - it was an outsider, someone who wasn’t part of the inner circle, who literally came in and told them what she needed.
Feyre even talked about how much Elain loved to garden when Lucien asked about her as they made their way back up north. Feyre noticed how much Elain tried to let the sun in. Nesta talked about their manor by the sea and how that was Elain’s favorite spot.
They all knew this about her, but it was her mate who knew about its significance to her. Lucien has not even fully seen her face, only know from the bare sentences Feyre offered him, and from that one conversation, he knew, even when they didn’t talk about it.
Both Feyre and Nesta were scolded for how they treated Elain. Elain spoke up to Nesta, and while Feyre was astonished by her growing claws, Rhys pointed out that Feyre is guilty of this too.
Elain had always been the odd one among her sisters, and that’s not a bad thing. I've always thought that the sisters' relationships bordered on codependency and had always been toxic. I still don't understand why there is a push for the sisters to stick together when they didn't enjoy being around each other. Feyre resented that she had to take care of her sisters, and Nesta resented that Feyre did. What's even funnier is that in ACOTAR, Feyre knew that Nesta would do anything for Elain, and then in ACOSF, Nesta had issues with Elain's relationship with Feyre, calling her a dog loyal to a master who kept her safe and fed.
Feyre and Nesta may have reached an understanding regarding their complex feelings for each other, but that doesn't imply an instant transformation into best friends. Similarly, Elain might recognize that she isn't crafted in the same mold as her sisters and needs to venture out to discover her rightful place.
Both of them hated their cottage; Elain says she missed it.
Both of them didn't like talking to their father; Elain doted on him.
Both of them hated parties and the whole court scene; Elain thrives in it.
Both of them are mated to Illyrians; Elain isn't.
Elain will face a choice, but it’s going to be much bigger than Azriel vs. Lucien. It’s going to be a similar choice that Feyre faced in ACOMAF and Lucien faced in ACOWAR: will she stay at a place where she does not belong because it's the safe thing, or will she take a leap of faith and leave because it's the right thing for her.
The 'three brothers, three sisters' trope feels constraining for Elain, as if trying to fit her into a square peg rather than embracing her as a round hole.
101 notes
·
View notes
Note
I’m so annoyed and a little sad. I love alchemy and magic in general but I’m so ignorant. I want to feel good about my practice being just me discovering things on my own because that can be really fun, but I always hit that wall of “you need to do research if you wanna continue this” and it’s so frustrating.
Research hurts my brain and overstimulates me and I’ve decided that it’s unfortunately generally not healthy for me to try to push myself to look up things.
:( I feel undeserving of even saying I practice magic. I know it’s totally fine and it ultimately doesn’t matter, I should just be having fun, but I still feel a little bad anyways. If it’s alright to ask i’d like some advice or validation.
Research doesn't hurt your brain, you're trying to cram a square peg into a round hole. Alchemy is a complex topic, and there's always going to be more to learn, but much of the writing about alchemy is going to either be approachable nonsense, or very high level scholarship thats difficult to approach.
Sometimes you just need to find something to orient you. This is where good teachers come in. I highly recommend checking out Dr. Sledge's videos on an introduction to historical alchemy. He explains the basics in an extremely approachable way, and is very good about offering sources for further reading.
352 notes
·
View notes
Text
Roley Coley's Writing Masterlist
My AO3.
Helping Hands
Summary: Phoenix has had a long day. She knows the only thing that will make her feel better is coming home to you and getting a little help to unwind.
Square Peg, Round Hole
Summary: You love Bradley Bradshaw. He really is like a dream. You just wish that your parents didn't love him just as much as you do.
Green, Green, Green
Summary: You haven't had a very good Saint Patrick's Day. Somehow your neighbor Jake "Hangman" Seresin makes it all better, and also so much worse.
Bones, Hearts, & Marriages
Summary: You and Javy "Coyote" Machado did not get married for the right reasons. Now, three years later, you are going to make sure that you two at least get divorced for the right reasons to make up for it. However, per usual, things don't always seem to go to plan when Coyote is involved.
House We Share
Summary: A three part mini-series. You fall a little more in love with your roommate Jake Hangman Seresin every day. Every part of him is endearing to you, even if you're not sure he will ever love you back.
Reminders
Summary: Your definition of teasing has changed significantly since you started sleeping with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. The man lived for it. Anything you two were doing, he would find something or some way to tease you.
Inconceivable!
Summary: No one tells you how hard it is to have to plan to leave and hurt the love of your life. However, when you know you want different things, you must choose. And your baby is probably the only thing you can ever imagine ever choosing over Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.
Let's Drink Coffee At Midnight
Summary: The truth was, in many ways, Carole understood Pete like no one else ever would, and the same could be said for vice versa. Pete understood Carole in a way no one else ever would. It's no mystery where it started; their shared love, their shared tragedy. Goose dying was the epicenter for them.
Ask Me Anything, I'll Give You Everything
Summary: Every morning, you wake up and wonder if today will be the day. The day the love of your life breaks up with you. The only probable solution you can come up with is to force the issue. It seems like a simple plan; after all, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw has never made it a secret that he doesn't like brats.
I Would Walk 10,000 Miles To You
Summary: The first thing you notice about Jake "Hangman" Seresin when he rings your doorbell at 1:30 in the morning is that no matter the time of day, he is devastatingly handsome. The second thing you notice is that he is absolutely smashed drunk. You know your hands will be full dealing with your brother's friend tonight. Well, you suppose he might be your friend too.
All Bets Are Off
Summary: When Jake "Hangman" Seresin starts coming onto you in a club, you are convinced it is too good to be true. Your past experiences have taught you that there is only one possible reason this man might be interested. The question exactly is just how much money does he have riding on this bet?
They All Know, He's In Love With You
Summary: From the night you first set eyes on Jake “Hangman” Seresin, and went home with him from the bar, you knew that there wasn’t ever going to be anything serious between you two. You just wish you could figure out why he keeps acting the opposite, and everyone thinks you are together.
Writing On The Wall
Summary: Hangman is back from a three month TAD. However, when he comes home he discovers you have done some redecorating concerning the pictures in the house. You know it’s because of your insecurities, but he comes to some different conclusions.
A Letter From The Past
Summary: On the day of your wedding, the last thing you expected to hear is your groom, Rooster Bradshaw, is freaking out and having jitters. You want to talk to him and help him with whatever it is he needs. Though you also never thought you would be crying this much reading a letter from Carole Bradshaw. #everythingsMav'sFault
532 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 9- Clandestine
Guys, I've discovered Lana Del Ray. So if this chapter is a bit emotional, blame her.
Okay, CW: LOTS of dysphoria, as well as a lot of discussions about binding, safe binding, and depictions of unsafe binding. Blink-and-you-miss-it misgendering. Some quick medical stuff. Anxiety, depression. Hints at self-harm, but not really.
Second year was not much different from first, if Regulus was honest. Rooming with Barty and Evan. Walks with Sirius.
He didn’t feel older. Classes weren’t much harder. He enjoyed being back. He felt safe.
But he struggled in some ways. Namely, with his body, which still insisted on betraying him daily.
Being in a room with Barty and Evan was wonderful in many ways. It was a reminder that he was considered a boy, here. That people looked at him and saw a boy. That he fit in with the other boys.
Bit it also made him ache, in a way that was difficult to describe. He watched Barty and Evan continue to change in the open room as he shed his clothes in the safety of the bathroom. He stared in the mirror for far too long, changing into shirt after shirt, wondering if he could actually see a small curve on his chest, or if it was his brain playing tricks on him.
Sometimes he had to sit on his hands to resist the urge to claw at his very skin. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt himself. It was just that his body kept changing, kept getting worse, and he sometimes felt the primal urge to just–
Sirius and Pandora and Dorcas were so well-meaning. They listened to him rant and rage and scream. They helped him on days when he just felt wrong, like a square peg in a round hole. They comforted him.
He’d taken to hiding the rock Potter had given him for his birthday in his pocket. When he got anxious or particularly nauseous when looking in the mirror, it helped to worry it in his hands. Flip it over and over. Feel the smooth surface. It was calming, somehow. It allowed him to focus on something else, anything else, besides the way his body didn’t fit.
He slept in the bandages almost every night. He knew it was bad for him. He felt the way his chest bruised and his back ached and the rashes and scratches burned. But he found that he needed it. He felt so invalid, like he wasn’t truly a boy without them. If he thought too much about it, he found himself close to tears- why did he have to go through this just to achieve the same feeling most people naturally had?
But he pushed that resentment down, and just re-tightened the bandages daily, forcing himself not to think about it too much.
It could be worse, after all.
--
“Did you hear?” Evan asked, one October evening as the three of them lay lazily in bed avoiding homework.
“That you’re a prat? Yes,” Barty replied lazily, dodging the pillow that Evan threw.
Regulus snorted.
“No, that Potter is replacing DeSilva this year on Gryffindor,” Evan clarified, scoffing a bit.
It had been a huge topic of conversation amongst anyone who followed the Quidditch games- Gryffindor had always been alright, but their Chasers had been lacking. A good Chaser would make them a problem, especially to Slytheirn, whose Keeper was shit. People had wondered why DeSilva hadn’t been kicked off in previous years, but Gryffindors were too nice, and had the policy that once you got a position, you kept it, as long as you didn’t do something morally wrong.
Of course, Regulus had watched Potter play. So, he knew they were a bit screwed, now.
So, why was he excited at the news?
“Potter’s not bad,” he commented, trying to keep his voice even.
“We’re fucked. Between Flint and Goyle, there’s no way,” Barty grumbled.
“Flint’s gotten better at covering the right hoop,” Evan said reasonably. “Too bad Goyle’s captain, or they could kick him off. He’s such shit. But I heard his daddy bought the whole team new brooms, so we’re stuck with him until he graduates.”
Barty grunted in frustration. “Maybe he’d catch the snitch if we charm it to make whistling noises. Always thought he followed Crabbe around like a puppy.”
“Next year, he’ll graduate and Reg will be Seeker. Then, we’ll stand a chance,” Evan shrugged. “Until then, I’m betting on Ravenclaw. Pandora says their Seeker is decent.”
Regulus nodded vacantly, reaching into his pocket to turn the rock over and over.
Privately, he was betting on Gryffindor.
--
Pain.
All he felt was pain.
Crawling up and down his ribs, punching at his back, stabbing at his chest.
It was jarring. Scary. Terrifying.
It hurt to move, hurt to moan, hurt to breathe.
He’d never woken up to pain like this.
He needed help, and he knew it. But his entire being shied away from waking Barty and Evan. He didn’t want to bother them (both were not ones to be awoken before absolutely necessary) and he was terrified they’d ask to see or touch where it hurt.
But as he tried desperately to sit up only to fall back in a groan of agony, his gulps of air causing shooting aches, he knew there was nothing for it.
“Help,” he croaked, even the movement of his talking searing his entire torso.
He had to call twice more before Evan’s grumpy-but-concerned face stuck through the curtains. He immediately went pale. “Reg? What- what’s wrong?”
But he was starting to feel faint. He couldn’t escape the pain, and he was starting to feel almost claustrophobic with it. Like he could either breathe and hurt or hurt less and have no oxygen. There was no way out.
His head spun. He tried desperately to stay conscious. He couldn’t let them see. What if they saw?
The last thing he remembered before passing out was Evan yelling for Barty.
--
“You fucking idiot.”
He opened his eyes to sunshine and mumbles and his chest feeling far too exposed and empty, even with the blanket covering him. The bandages were gone. “That’s my line to you,” he sleepily shot back to his brother, blinking, trying to get Sirius’s face into focus.
“Not when you break your own ribs,” Sirius said roughly. Admittedly, Sirius looked like he was the one who should be in the hospital bed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and the deep circles under his eyes made him look almost skeletal. His hands, which had wrapped themselves around Regulus’s forearm, all had fingernails that were bitten down raw. He looked distraught. “I gave you that fucking bandage to help you, Regulus. How tight–?”
“It’s not your fault, idiot,” He murmured, looking down. Perhaps he had been keeping the bandage a bit too tight.
“I didn’t know,” Sirius whispered, looking like he was trying to convince both of them of the fact. “I had no idea that- that this could happen.”
Regulus chuckled, ignoring the small twinge in his healed chest. “Same. I suppose Pomfrey is pissed?”
“I convinced her not to owl mother,” Sirius shrugged. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You…erm…might have to lay off the bandage for a while. Pomfrey said something about permanent damage to your back. If you….y’know…keep it up as much as you have.”
Remulus blinked, trying and failing to fight against the despair creeping into his brain as the tears formed. “So…so….” he mumbled, unsure about how to put his thoughts into words.
“Maybe…only a few hours a day? Or…a bit looser?” Sirius suggested hesitantly.
Regulus balked, feeling the anger and fear and disgust all bubble within him, his self-control wavering. “And then what, Sirius? How do I explain to Barty and Evan that I’ve suddenly got tits?”
He felt the nausea build within his stomach and he almost choked, picturing for just a moment having to walk around with an unbound chest. Picturing the looks. The reactions. The disgust.
“You…you don’t have…” Sirius argued weakly, looking as if he truly had no idea what to say.
“I do! I do, and there isn’t a thing I can do about it, because our parents will never let me take the potion. So I’m stuck like this until I turn seventeen!” Regulus said loudly, allowing some of his carefully-controlled anger to boil over. “And you tell me, how many people in Hogwarts would honestly be okay rooming with me, knowing that? Who thinks that’s normal?” Sirius sighed, looking helpless.
“You are normal, Reg. There’s nothing about you that’s–that’s bad or wrong.”
“Tell that to our parents,” Regulus spat, turning away from Sirius a bit. “Tell that to my body.”
Sirius inhaled a bit. “Just….just promise me you’ll keep it a bit looser, okay? I can’t…I can’t bear it if something were to happen to you.”
The genuinely terrified look on his face was what broke Regulus from his anger. He deflated, allowing the defensiveness to flow out of him. “Alright,” he murmured, allowing Sirius to pull him into a hug. “That hurts, you prat,” he whispered as Sirius squeezed him tightly.
But when Sirius made to let go, he felt sad, as if he wished his brother hadn’t let go.
--
Regulus stayed in the Hospital overnight that night. Something about 'making sure his blood vessels were okay', or whatever.
His friends visited, and he reassured them that he had been out the night before practicing Quidditch (true) and he must have hurt himself during a particularly crazy dive (false). Barty and Evan seemed to buy it, but Dorcas and Pandora gave him maddeningly disbelieving looks throughout their visit.
It was a different visitor, though, that made him much more nervous.
Remus Lupin entered the Hospital Wing late the second night, definitely after curfew, and certainly after Pomfrey had gone to bed. He made Regulus emit a small yelp of shock when he showed up, as he hadn’t been expecting the taller boy to show up at all, let alone at such an hour.
“It’s just me, sorry,” Remus muttered, as if he often visited Regulus at midnight in the Hospital Wing. “Sorry, it’s just arrived, or I would’ve been sooner,” he continued vaguely, waving a small package around.
Regulus eyed it curiously.
“I….I need to tell you something,” Remus continued, sitting gently on Regulus’s bed. Regulus pulled the covers over his chest more securely, a bit nervous about how close someone else was while he was so….exposed.
“Go on,” he nodded, wondering what was so important that Remus had to sneak into the Hospital in the dead of night. “Has Sirius done something stupid?”
Remus snorted. “No…Sirius wanted to tell you himself, but…” Remus trailed off, and Regulus momentarily worried Sirius had gone and gotten hurt or something, but then Remus met his eyes. “I was there. Last night when they brought you in.”
Regulus felt his heart sink. He’d been so nervous that Barty and Evan would have seen too much when he was brought in. He hadn’t even thought about another student being there already.
“I…I came in at around 4:30…with a migraine,” Remus murmured.
He really did get a lot of migraines, Regulus thought briefly.
“Sirius came with me. So…we were already there. When you came in.” Remus looked a bit awkward as he spoke. As if he wasn’t sure how much to reveal. “They made your friends wait outside. But Sirius refused. And I was…well, I couldn’t leave.” He looked apologetic, now. “They….they healed you. And then…Sirius got very upset, and…well, you should know he did everything possible to protect you. He argued with Pomfrey and Slughorn for a good ten minutes about contacting your parents. He won, in the end. Well, you know how stubborn he is.” Remus shrugged a bit awkwardly.
Regulus waited quietly for the other shoe to drop. He had a sinking feeling, from how Remus was speaking and acting, that there was more to it.
“You should know, Regulus…I’d already guessed. Before last night,” Remus finally sighed, meeting Regulus’s gaze.
His heart sank. He’d guessed? He’d known?
“How?” he whispered. If Sirius had told, he would…he didn’t know how…
“Sirius talked about you, in our first year,” Remus shrugged. “He mentioned…well, he mentioned a sister.”
Both Remus and Regulus winced at that.
“And then he came back from Christmas and he insisted that he’d only ever had a brother. I’m guessing that’s when you…?” Remus asked gently, raising his eyebrows a bit.
Regulus nodded.
“Yeah, so…I tried to ask, but he didn’t seem to be willing to talk about it and…dunno, it’s not my business, is it? So I figured I'd let it go,” Remus shrugged. As if it was the simplest assumption in the world. That it wasn’t his business, so he should just let it be.
Regulus was again overwhelmed by the feeling of thankfulness for Remus Lupin. He was so unassuming…so kind. He’d known (or guessed) for years and had said nothing. Because he’d guessed, rightfully, that Regulus would be uncomfortable with it.
“But it’s my business now, Regulus, because Sirius is going a bit spare,” Remus said a bit louder, looking stressed. “He said…I mean, feel free to tell me to fuck off, but…he said you’re using a bandage for your…?” he used his hand to gesture to his own chest.
Regulus nodded, looking down. “There’s a potion,” he found himself volunteering, strangely comfortable talking about it with Remus. “But I can’t take it. Mother and Father…they’d probably rather I was dead,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Barty and Evan don’t know and….I don’t…they can’t. So this is what I have.”
Remus studied him for a moment, then handed him a package. “You know there are people like you in the Muggle world too, right? My mum’s Muggle, so I was raised in both.”
He shrugged. He’d never really thought about it. “I guess…sure.”
“Well…what do you think they do? Surely they can’t take a potion,” Remus said patiently, like a Professor trying to talk a student through a difficult question.
“They cry?” Regulus volunteered, snorting at his own humor.
Remus smiled a bit. “Well, probably. But also, they have other options.”
“Like?” Regulus asked, feeling a strange bubble of hope in his chest.
“Well, some of them take medicine. It’s like potions for Muggles,” Remus shrugged. “Some of them just….cut things off.”
“What?” Regulus yelped loudly.
They both realized his mistake and whipped their heads around to Pomfrey’s door, but they heard no stirring.
“You’re fucking with me, surely,” he mumbled a bit quieter. How on Earth did Muggles actually survive without accidentally killing themselves?
“Nah,” Remus grinned. “I have a….cousin, I think? She told me about it.”
Regulus gaped for a minute before looking down at the package. “So, what’s in here? A knife? Gonna help me chop off my–”
Remus scoffed. “Sirius would kill me. Plus, Muggles have professionals that do that. No, she also told me about those,” he said, gesturing to the package. “I wrote her for one this morning. Said it was for a friend.” He shrugged.
Even more confused, Regulus ripped open the package to find–
“Is this a fucking bra?” he asked, barely controlling his embarrassment and anger. He almost threw the offending garment across the room in disgust.
“What? No!” Remus said, shaking his head vehemently.
It…looked like a strange mix of a tank top and a sports bra. But, it was missing some of the things Regulus remembered from seeing his mother’s bras. There were no cups, no small hooks, no lace or femininity. Instead, there was just a zipper on each side. And it was…less stretchy? The material had give, but it was a firmer stretch. Like it wasn’t meant to give much leeway.
“It’s a binder,” Remus shrugged. “Muggles use them. They kind of….” he gestured to his own chest again, “suck it all in.”
Regulus stared at the fabric for a few moments. “There are things that are meant for that?” he asked, though it was more out of wonder. Clearly, there were.
“Yeah, so…this is better than what you were using before because it’s meant for that purpose. And these zippers here,” Remus pointed at the two zippers on each side, “loosen it when you need a break. So you don’t end up back here.”
Regulus laughed, half-shocked and half-ecstatic. “Why did you do this for me?”
Remus gave him a weird look again. “Well….first, Sirius has been driving himself crazy. All he wants to do is to help you. To make sure you’re happy. And safe.”
Regulus felt a pang of guilt at that.
“But also….” Remus continued, looking emotional, himself, now. “I…secrets….secrets are hard. And I can…I can…well, I can imagine what it might feel like. To have a secret that you’re so…so scared about people finding out. But it’s…it’s a part of you, and you can’t change it.”
He looked so genuine. So empathetic. So understanding. Regulus swallowed thickly, trying not to let any tears fall.
Remus sighed, “It’s hard, erm, I imagine…when you have a secret like that. And if you can find something that helps…people who support you…I would think that would make it…so much easier. Right?”
There was emotion there. Raw and real, and Regulus had a feeling Remus had his own experiences with secrets. But he was so thankful to have Remus accept him and help him with his own that he decided not to push. For now.
--
Guys I can't with this chapter. Remus is just so amazing and we love him.
Read the full WIP or leave comments or kudos here!
#marauders#harry potter#marauders era#fanfic#sirius black kinnie#harry potter marauders#marauders fandom#regulus black kinnie#jegulus#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#the marauders#sirius orion black#sirius being sirius#sirius black#remus loves sirius#remus lupin#sirius is a good brother#sirius and regulus#remus being remus#remus john lupin#incorrect marauders era#remus and regulus#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#regulus deserved better#trans reggie#trans regulus my beloved#trans regulus#remus lupin my beloved
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
On Settling into Different Territories
The way that they set up the cats settling into different territories is so flat
When the narrative wants to make it clear that the cat will eventually become devoted to a particular Clan in the future, they get a magic feeling of "rightness." They can't really explain it, it just beckons to them. Sometimes they even display genetic adeptness towards their biome (ehhhghhh) from the get go, like when Clear Sky was able to leap clean up a tree in Sun Trail.
It's so cheap. You don't have to come up with reasons why they might ACTUALLY need to be there to try the area out, learn much about what really makes a particular biome unique or superior to another one, or show the cats shuffling around. Nope. Immediate attraction. Square peg meets square hole.
It reminds me a little bit of another trope that's one of my pet peeves. "Love at first sight." I hate the very idea. You can like things right away, but love is like a seed that grows. Love is learning, finding all the little quirks, discovering how it interacts with you, the sort of person that love makes you.
I've moved around a lot, and a different place... it really can change you. It can make you a different sort of person. You get to learn about yourself through what's now available to you. The best places I've ever lived weren't "sudden rightness," I made a home there and grew into it, and that was what was beautiful about it. In a way, a new place is like a new friendship.
I prefer feeling forlorn about wasted material like this though, rather than the boiling, itchy hatred that the Three Stooges make me feel though.
A lamentation about the fact that these books are not made with love, they're made by hitting a quota for justifying the status quo.
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
Louis always includes a few visual puns and Easter eggs in his lyric videos (notably Just Like You). The Bigger Than Me lyric video is fun too.
youtube
The first thing to notice is that the color palette and font usage are similar to the Faith in the Future album cover: vermilion and black, featuring mixed fonts and a checkerboard pattern.
In fact, Louis probably deliberately chose the MARNI striped collar checked pattern jacket because of the graphics. His photoshoot from the release is incorporate into the lyric video.
Now for the highlights:
“HIDE BEHIND A SMILE”: there’s no smile, but the mouth is highlighted. The graphic shows a look of defiance, but the lyrics are a confession of insecurity, the fear of revealing vulnerability
“I DIDN’T READ THE SIGNS”: the graphics are cute, alternating triangles and circles. (I’m thinking of Louis’ ankle tattoo.)
“ALL OF THESE VOICES”: the cacophony of words in the periphery. The graphic also depict an eyeball with the iris in the middle. (My post on Louis’ eye imagery, and the persistence of fish eye lens photos.)
“I DON’T HEAR THEM ANYMORE”: H EAR with the graphic of the ear (a visual pun). It reminds me of this, “where s he lays.”
Then we have the rapidly changing graphics of the chorus:
“IT’S BIGGER THAN ME”: the montage of Louis’ FitF era symbols-> his photos, the smiley face with X’d out eyes, the checkerboard, the floating eye.
The circular graphics also recall the swirling eye graphics of 369 and LTWT (which also featured the checkerboard).
The square is an interesting contrast. It’s in white, flashes by in a millisecond, and unlike the rest of the graphics, the square is hand drawn, a sketch. It brings our attention to Louis’ face inside the circle, but the square also suggests the phrase, “a square peg in a round hole,” meaning that in some ways, Louis may always be an outsider. This is reified by the use of the mismatching fonts: the graphics are a little jarring and out of place, a little bit uncomfortable to read.
“I’VE WOKEN UP FROM MY SLEEP”: once again, we see the almost floating eye in the checkered background (top left)— an eye inside an eye— as the black circle represents a pupil and the red dot, the iris. The iris changes with the music, as one “wakes up from sleep” and our eyes accommodate to waking, adjusting from darkness to light.
I find it fascinating that the eye/ target motif is incorporated into so many aspects of Louis’ work, even in the AFHF graphics of this year.
Bigger Than Me is rich with allusions to our senses, as if discovering them anew after emerging from isolation. It is a metaphor for the philosophical epiphany in the song. Louis is discovering that his musical world is a partnership with his fans: his songwriting in the pandemic is worthwhile only if there’s a chance to share the music afterward.
Louis is also discovering that individual suffering can be put into the context of universal feelings. We can be too hard on ourselves, dwell too much in our own heads, but also take criticisms too deeply into our hearts. Empathy and sympathy give us perspective. We can forgive ourselves, but we can also demand better of other people.
50 notes
·
View notes
Note
If it's not too personal or private, how did your last relationship end? You seem so confident and knowing what you like in partners (based on reblogs and such 👀).
I was a rebound and didn't know it (I mean, does anyone ever). Don't really want to get into details bc I'll just sound whiny, but it ended pretty abruptly and in an embarrassing way after a lot of pretty words had been said and big plans had been made. I'm pretty sure they got back with their ex 🫡
I am thankful it happened though because it helped me discover a lot about my gender and sexuality. It was my first relationship with someone who identified as a (nonbinary butch) lesbian and it helped me unpack a lot of internalized homophobia. I realized I had really mentally blocked myself for pursuing/exploring sapphic relationships due to familial and religious guilt. I didn't realize how much I had been holding myself back, what sort of relationships and experiences I was missing out on. I've dated and loved men in the past but I don't see myself doing so in the future.
It helped me explore my masculinity and butchness, too. I'd always been attracted to masculinity and identified with it, and ID'ed as a trans man for a while, before 2020. My gender felt like I was playing dress-up with my dad's suit- I had all the pieces to look/feel masculine, but it just never felt fully right. Square peg in a round hole situation. I didn't start to really explore butchness until after we broke up but I felt it fit me like a glove. I can't really articulate why but I feel a million times more in touch with my masculinity now than I ever did before. I think a big part of it is it's fully throwing out society's expectations of what it means to be "masculine". There's not a box to fit into, it's very existence is outside of the boxes. There's a longer post to be written about what 'butch' means to me, but if you're familiar with the 'little knight by the fire' poem- I connect with it deeply. I was that little knight, and I feel like I've grown up and come full circle.
This account has helped a lot when it comes to exploring what I desire and I'm glad people enjoy it! Y'all make me feel very desirable and confident 🐻🌻
#this was a lot more than you were asking for oops#as my first dyke relationship it definitely ticked a lot of the stereotypical boxes 👍#answered asks#bear talks#anon
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shout out to how upset Stede was about Mary not changing her "The Widow Bonnet" art name. I feel like it highlights how his issues when he gets back are not (just) about missing Ed/the sea.
Like the conversation about the flyers basically goes
Stede: I'm alive and you're still married to me, remember? I'm literally your husband.
Mary: I think I'll just pretend otherwise, thnx :)
Stede, internally: guess I'll just go fuck myself then
When he discovers the affair, it highlights that they're not what a married couple is Supposed to Be (a wife is supposed to want her husband at her art show, right??) and if they're not following that script, where the fuck does that leave him?
Then his time at the pub heightens his homesickness re: Ed and his bitterness about Mary not giving up her own happiness alongside Stede's in pursuit of upperclass social expectation bullshit (a completely unreasonable expectation, hon).
He never fit at home but now there's not even a round hole left for him to be a square peg in. And even though he never wanted his land life, that rejection still hurts.
To me, the bitchy "I forgive you" feels like he's 1: low-key trying to blame her at least in part for his drinking/saying she has no right to be mad at him given her own misdeeds and 2: possibly trying to drive home that she's still obligated to him whether she likes it or not.
Given the society they live in, where it's made clear that women are so much happier when not having to submit to/accommodate/be bound to their husband, there's subtext that if he didn't forgive her, he could ruin her entire life over it, not just her happiness. And so it's this condescending, passive aggressive show of "generosity" to not be as awful as he could be. And therefore she owes him.
IDK, I adore him but he's a total dick to her upon his return before being humbled by her getting an inch and three seconds from killing him, and I'm really glad they talked it through as a crew. They both deserve to be happy and unburdened by forced marriage ☺️💕
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Queer ✨
Philosophy Tube... Abagail was instrumental in my discovery of being both bisexual and transgender.
I remember when watching her "Queer ✨" video 3 years ago, it unlocked a torrent of thoughts and feelings relating to my queer identity that I couldn't put into words/had suppressed until that point.
What followed was what I now understand as coming out to myself.
Abigail talked a lot about always having some clues in earlier life about her queerness but how she always dismissed it due to the whole "It's not for people like me" shtick which I also got caught up in. What's fascinating in Abigail's exploration of this, understanding what it meant for _her_ to be queer, not relying on the narrow image that had previously be portrayed by mainstream cishet oriented media, she also helped me uncover the same realization.
I remember relating to everything she said so much at the time, but in a very nervous and not quite ready yet kind of way. I had no idea what it meant for me exactly yet, but that I knew it was something I experienced...
This played on my mind for ages... Now I was semi aware of it, it was so much more difficult to shove back under the rug. Eventually, I came out to a queer friend of mine, citing Abigail as the source! I remember what a huge deal this felt like at the time, I remember my heart pounding out of my chest as I wrote the sentence: "I think I'm bi".
Even then, I dont think I fully understood. But for once, it felt more real, someone else knew and it started to grow, unsuppressed as a new facet of my identity.
Around a year into this, I became more comfortable with the label, figuring out what it meant for me and how it worked. Hell, I had even started thinking about seeking out other queer people to find community. Although I did struggle a lot with feeling like an imposter: too straight to be queer, but too queer to be straight.
But it didn't feel like the whole picture. I could never quite figure out why, but I felt there was something else under the alphabet umbrella that would be the final missing piece...
Fast forward to Abigail's "Identity: A Trans Coming Out Story" video, I remember this video conjuring up some very very strong emotions in me. The "Queer" video was similar, but the intensity was on a way lower level. This time though, it felt like a "you can't keep running from this" sort of deal.
I related a lot to her story, how she felt that living the way she was in her gender pre transition was increasingly untenable. I've never felt intuitively my AGAB. Its always felt like a square peg in a round hole. Even as a kid, I used to find gendered expectations pretty distressing.
Like last time, I buried this as deep as I could. This was 10x as scary as before and I didn't wanna face it. This video also made me realise that this stuff dated back 6 years... I remember joining Mastodon and following a lot of trans people by happenstance, and for some reason, relating a lot to the memes and conversations being had.
Then, finally, a year after watching that video... I had joined an online queer community where I started tentatively talking about gender, which was where I discovered there was no such thing as a queer license... Much like my bisexuality, I felt an imposter, I felt like my experiences were somewhere under the trans umbrella, but I felt I was intruding.
My journey is still very much underway, but if there's one thing I've learnt from all of this it's that: never underestimate the power that you and others hold to inspire comfort and courage in someone to come out and live as their authentic self.
#lgbtq#lgbtqa#lgbt#queer#philosophy tube#abigail thorn#bisexual#coming out#bisexuality#transgender#trans#nonbinary
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Introvert’s Dilemma: Dancing to the Beat of a Different Drum
Naturally introverted, selectively extroverted.
-The Minds Journal
Step into the scene: the air buzzes with vibrant energy, laughter cascades through the room, and animated conversations intertwine like a symphony of sound. But amidst the lively gathering, there you are—a lone wolf in a quiet corner, an introvert navigating a world of extroverts. Welcome to the enigmatic life of the introvert!
While extroverts flourish in social interactions, we introverts often find ourselves wrestling with the perpetual struggle of feeling like square pegs in round holes. Introversion and extroversion, like yin and yang, coexist in the grand symphony of human personalities. Each has its own unique melody, and here I stand, firmly planted on the introverted side of the scale.
While my extroverted friends effortlessly command attention and effortlessly navigate conversations, I can’t help but feel like a solitary note, out of tune with the vibrant harmony around me. Now don’t get me wrong—I cherish my friends and their vivacious energy. But truth be told, there have been countless instances where I’ve felt like a mere observer in my own social circles, struggling to keep up with their rapid-fire banter.
It’s not that I begrudge their enthusiasm or harbor resentment for their outgoing nature. On the contrary, I stand in awe of their ability to effortlessly connect with others and illuminate any room they grace with their presence. They draw people in like moths to a mesmerizing flame, while I find solace in the embrace of solitude.
As an introvert, I revel in deep, meaningful conversations that explore the depths of the human experience. However, amidst the uproar of laughter and ceaseless chatter, these moments often drown in the sea of noise. It’s not that my friends purposefully exclude me; it’s simply that our communication styles differ. While they readily share their stories and experiences, I silently absorb them, occasionally chiming in when I can muster the courage.
Navigating an extroverted world as an introvert presents its fair share of challenges. There are times when I yearn to be the life of the party, surrounded by a whirlwind of friends. But that’s not where I find my true self. Instead, I discover my authentic self in the serene moments of introspection, in the tranquil embrace of nature, and in the solace of a good book.
Yet, amidst occasional bouts of self-doubt, I’ve come to embrace my introverted nature as a strength rather than a weakness. It has bestowed upon me the gift of empathy and a profound ability to listen, qualities that often go unnoticed in the clamor of the world. Through introversion, I have observed and understood people on a deeper level, fostering genuine and lasting connections.
These connections have taught me that it’s perfectly acceptable to not always be at the center of attention, and that even a soft-spoken voice holds immeasurable value.
Over time, I have grown to appreciate the balance that my extroverted friends bring into my life. They urge me out of my comfort zone, encouraging me to experience life beyond the confines of my introverted shell. Through their companionship, I have discovered that it’s okay to push my boundaries, to embrace the exhilaration of lively gatherings, and to dance to the rhythm of life without hesitation.
But amidst the exhilarating chaos, I have also learned the importance of setting boundaries and cherishing moments of solitude. As an introvert, I recharge my energy in the stillness of my own company, recognizing the necessity of self-care to be the best version of myself when engaging with others.
Being an introvert among extroverts has been an awe-inspiring journey of self-discovery. I have learned to navigate the intricate dance of social dynamics, finding comfort in my own skin and celebrating the magnificent diversity of personalities that shape our world. My journey continues, and while the spotlight may never fully embrace me. Yet, with unwavering confidence, I say that I am naturally introverted, selectively extroverted. I wholeheartedly embrace my introversion and all the enchantment it brings to my life.
So here’s a toast to all my fellow introverts out there—embrace your uniqueness, for it is a mesmerizing melody in the grand symphony of life. Let us revel in our quiet strength, for it is in the depths of our introspection that we find our true power. Together, let us paint the world with the vibrant hues of our introverted magic.
Till Next Time!
0 notes
Text
Paradigm Shifts
I've been coming back into old realizations. I remember these revelations from years ago that got shuffled into some dark corner or swept under the rug somehow. (edit: I don't think I was prepared to hold onto them until now.)
Once again, we ask: What is Ex Inanis?
I had thought Ex Inanis was a kind of philosophy -- a way to navigate this world of ours. I am realizing this is not quite right.
Ex Inanis is (primarily) an attempt to describe the local universe (Context). There is knowledge in Ex Inanis that is "outside scope" (metaphysical) which has been critical but improperly integrated. This knowledge also concerns "how to live" (philosophy) and I should have separated these concerns better. For readers, this is still muddled, but for me it is enough of a note for now.
Most of this work began out of a desire to create a holistic metaphysical system for a fictional universe. This led me down a deep, deep rabbit hole. As I tried to design an "ideal" metaphysical system, I had to answer question after question: How do we create eternity? How do we account for infinity? What is the role of death? How do we retain free will? What is the source of morality? And so on.
As I answered more of these questions, I seemed to create a contrast of two worlds. The ideal world and the actual world.
The aspects of Ex Inanis I developed to "help navigate" are misguided. They are founded in the belief that the local universe is a place I wish to reside and so I have been attempting to force a square peg into a round hole.
As of late, I have been feeling like "Ex Inanis" was not needed anymore. I have been attempting to discover the root of this feeling. I think it resides in the recognition that while Ex Inanis has been great at describing how this place functions (mostly still in private notes that trickle to this blog), there are "no acceptable solutions."
Or rather, it has (so far) failed to produce guidance on a desirable or meaningful life.
For most of my life, I attempted to leverage the knowledge of knowing "how the game worked." I dug deep inside, just looking for that for that first step that called to me.
Why did everything have so much resistance? This didn't seem normal for most people. I felt like I was chained to a wall. I dived into the idea that this was a willpower or discipline problem, yet these just created suffering and seemed to glorify endurance and pride.
I could never find a way to apply all this ancient wisdom. People want to achieve things, build things, have careers, accumulate material stuff, families, see the world … Why? Where is the freedom in any of that? I tried to make ANYTHING resonate.
If there was "freedom" in the journey, then why was there never a path that made sense? Even Frodo knew he had to get to Mordor.
I became guilty because it felt like I was letting down loved ones who just wanted to see me happy. I wanted to be happy, but how could I be happy by saying that I "wanted nothing"? They wouldn't understand that. I didn't understand that.
My dreams were never of mundane things or places. I tried to find an "ideal" mundane life to strive towards -- imagined owning islands, jets, whole empires -- the ideal mate -- making great discoveries -- or just some humble simple existence -- and it all seemed meaningless. My heart did not sing for it.
I concluded something was wrong with me, so I set out to find it and fix it. But all those explorations just kept leading back to the same place. My heart seemed to only allow me to do this work. It would NOT RELENT.
Ex Inanis understands how this "game" works quite well. The mistake I have made is not having the confidence in my heart. And this has lead to the understanding about "being."
You must have a complete, thorough, and total disconnection with the world to unlock the concept of being. It is such a subtle, invisible thing. Even as I write this, I feel my confidence is a little shaky. But it is growing.
It is OKAY if you do not feel disconnected from the world. That means your destiny lies elsewhere and you should follow it with zeal. If you don't need to ask questions, feel blessed! This post is for all of us who WANT TO GO HOME.
What is BEING?
Being is the concept of this blog -- "from nothing." It is needing no basis from which to "be." It is in the audience, but not on the stage. It is the "solution" to the problem.
BEING is about ACCEPTANCE, ALLOWANCE, TRUST, FAITH and SURRENDER. Accept your life/the world, trust your heart, allow your life to unfold, have faith in "being" (or what is "yet to be"), surrender to the unfolding (let it do so how it likes).
We could see "believing" as a trick -- BE -- LEAVE -- or "leaving being." If you have to "be something", you are missing the concept of BEING altogether.
I have realized that only the "ego" wants results & answers. If you are looking for results or answers, you are OUT OF BEING, with your face planted in the mud -- the "Earth." You have your head up the elephant's ass (see wise men and elephant).
I am suspecting that cohesion itself is only relevant within the Earth/Human Context. The game does everything in its power to make you feel "eternally linear." It molds our perceptions so that it seems like it marches forever in a "straight path." This is to make you keep "choosing time."
Cohesion is "done" as soon as the choice is made, because Cohesion is just breaking down "being" into a spectrum, instead of an "on switch." Anything less would be to be choosing extra steps.
In the "Prime" Context, the world would work like you'd expect -- it would not be a place where you would doubt, or need to come up with many "systems" and "reasons" to explain it. You would KNOW.
But that is not the case here, is it? We are obsessed with "reason." We are obsessed with existentialism.
youtube
My heart has always deeply loved the Adventures of Baron Munchausen and this scene in particular. The world has forgotten how to dream. I may as well be the Baron in this scene.
In this place, there seems to be a negativity bias. Why would a universe with a positive slant be any less viable? Can you imagine a more effortless life? Of course you can.
But so what if there was a positive bias -- "everything that can go right, does go right" -- you might be better off, but you still wouldn't be free. You'd just be playing the other half of the game until you ended up right back here -- wanting to understand freedom.
The nature of this place seems to confuse or deceive our true nature. It does not matter whether this was by design or accident. Further granularity is not needed, simply the acknowledgment of this recurring theme.
"BEING" is how this game is eradicated. Being "erases" the game by sitting in your true nature / throne by pouring "infinity/potential" into the "field" that produces the game. As more and more of the field is filled with this potential, it breaks down.
We come into this world with a "personality." Whether this personality is the accumulation of hundreds of lives, a parameter of the game, or something we ourselves designed, it doesn't matter. Remember: answering questions is a trap. The personality, like the world itself, is just a lie -- a distraction to make you create time.
This game has ONE PURPOSE AND ONE ALONE (whether it is purposeful or not) -- to teach you the concept of BEING. We don't need to answer why this is, because once again that is a detour. This game will rain temptation & absurdity down upon you.
The Nonsense will use every tool at its disposal to get you to "drag time." And YOU WILL. You will drag time until you become SO SICK of it that you start asking the questions you need to ask to learn "being." Until you are prepared to STAND IN YOUR TRUTH, how does one learn how to "be" like we are in a dream? How do we learn how to be "fearless"?
This game is a mockery of the Prime universe not for good or evil, but because that is just the nature of the game. We don't need an answer or a reason. The answers and reasons are INFINITE. As soon as we go looking for one, we've lost -- we're "out of being." We're losing the game.
If you become fixated or content with some affair of your life, you are "losing" because you have latched into the illusion. You are staring too deeply down the microscope. This game is designed to not let you lose and it will shake your life apart to get you to let go -- to look up. You will wonder what the hell happened. How often has life seemed good -- seemed to "settle down" -- for some random wrecking ball to come in?
This will happen so often that you will feel compelled to construct philosophies, religions and identities to JUSTIFY, GLORIFY and PRAISE this process as a normal state of affairs. You will do everything, including sabotaging yourself, rather than step into sovereignty, because this kind of sovereignty requires a complete abandonment of reason.
You would rather lead CRUSADES across human time & space attempting to establish a harmony or paradise that can NEVER BE rather than face these fears that prevent your being.
This is "by design."
This will go on until you are utterly exhausted of every Earth/Human temptation/feature. You will NO LONGER CARE about petty world concerns -- you will yearn only for FREEDOM from this cycle. You will prefer DEATH to continuing this cycle.
Do not expect anyone to understand this feeling -- especially those you love, because you will feel you want to "be better" for them. But "being better" assumes you weren't whole to begin with, which is just another broken concept that holds you back.
When you apprehend the nature of these things, you will feel like you are absolutely insane -- comprehending how all the rules work and having ZERO desire to participate. You will wonder WHAT IS WRONG with you? But you will find no answers, because there is nothing wrong with you. You are functionally perfectly.
youtube
There's something wrong with me, I better keep testing!
You will wonder WHAT IS WRONG with all these people? How can they spend their dream this way? But that is a trap. Those people exist to ENSARE YOUR MIND.
How can we re-organize ourselves to REMOVE ALL DOUBT?
This is why my heart never allowed me to have any deeper attachments. My heart was always giving me what I truly wanted.
You are breaching into that FEARLESS mind. The birth of the "DREAM WORLD."
Acting in any other manner -- stepping outside of that relentless neutrality -- especially a destructive manner thinking this is somehow righteous -- means you are "OUT OF BEING" again because you are lost in appearances. You are exploring/dragging time. You are lost in the ephemeral thinking it is real, meaning you have become fixated/dense again. The service to others (which is also a service to self) is what ensures this never happens.
As compassion & decency are fundamental to higher consciousness, it becomes natural -- emergent -- to assist others. Riding your own wave leads you to helping others ride theirs.
I will try to revisit some of these closing thoughts in the future as they are just now reaching a level of clarity within my paradigm. But for now, I need to end this post.
There is no sense is speculating about the future whilst the game is still running. To repeat the last post, there is nothing to do but "be" -- you ARE the mirror that unravels this riddle.
More posts to follow, of course, as I unpack this box I had put in storage.
youtube
#lightworker#esoteric#subjective idealism#service to others#freedom#home#being#existentialism#dreams#philosophy
0 notes
Text
Reboot
Pairing: Jongdae/Chen x reader (female)
Word Count: 26,971 😬 read it in a mobile web browser if it crashes!
Rating: (PG13) for swearing + sexy vibes (nothing more explicit than a kiss on the page though)
Summary: Chen’s Electronics is a mystery, both how the store came to be and the man running it. When you start working as a receptionist for the enigma that is Kim Jongdae, you’re determined to be the one who unravels the mystery. You’re prepared for anything, except for falling in love with Jongdae himself.
Part eight of the Exodus Mall series (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)
A/N: I’m SO delighted that Jongdae is getting his IRL happily ever after and I’m so excited to wrap up his fictional counterpart’s story today, so he can have his ending as well 💕
March 15th, 1997
Capitol Hill is in full swing, the promise of spring drawing the sleeping city from its winter hibernation. The silver dress you wear is far shorter than you're used to, but the denim jacket is big enough to properly cover your ass, which is something at least. In your platform boots, borrowed from your roommate Liz, you're almost tall enough to see over the busy street to Cal Anderson Park up ahead.
'Come on,' Liz says with an excited glint in her eye. 'The club's just on the far side of Boylston.'
You nod distantly, eyes wide as you try to take in all the people around you. After spending the last two years buried in a book in the UW library or at internships or in class it feels startling to realize how much youthful, passionate energy beats at the heart of the city so close to where you've been existing. Not that you never go out, but now that you’re approaching the end of your master’s degree you feel like a diver finally reaching the surface to draw breath. You’re ready to celebrate.
A door opens to your right and music surrounds you. An impassioned man sings about an even flow, accompanied by an aggressive drummer and what you can tell is skilled guitar playing. The people on the sidewalk beside you press in, screaming and cheering and trying to shove their way into a club. A faded sign above announces it as Moe's Bar.
Your roommate's hand finds yours and she pulls you out through an opening in the crowd.
Once you’re free again you laugh and brush your hair behind your ears. Dozens of other clubs and bars and late-night restaurants you pass are the same. Men with mohawks in every color of the rainbow. Women in combat boots with plaid jackets tied at their waists. A group of teenagers skateboard down Broadway, hollering into the night as they fly by, the clack of their wheels muffled by the lingering rain dampening the streets.
Everyone seems taken by the revelry. It would be so easy - to disappear into the thriving mass of people celebrating music and community and being alive. Now, with graduation so close you can finally taste it, you surrender to the sensation. Tilting your head back you look at the round full moon above, peeking out through the clouds, and give a joyful, if tentative, howl.
This makes your roommate turn and squeeze your hand. Liz smiles with pride. 'Now that's the spirit!' she says with a fist pump and howl of her own.
The nightclub is unassuming, especially amongst the neon and metal venues you passed to get here. Two simple brass lamps spotlight the enormous carved wooden doors. Bass thumps from within, the slight rattling of the doors is the only indication that life exists within. Shari’s reads the hanging sign.
Liz practically glows under the lights, a North star leading you into a whole new world.
After so many years of keeping your nose to the grindstone - success gained through effort rather than extraordinary intelligence; advanced classes, extra college courses during the summer, every extracurricular you could pack in before you cracked, a high school diploma by sixteen, bachelors by twenty and MBA by twenty two - you would follow her anywhere as long as it didn't involve studying or a business suit.
She guides you through the heavy wood door into a small entry room. A large man with so many piercings he'd have a terrible time at the security scanners at the airport checks your IDs. It's stayed in your wallet, practically untouched, since the official one came last year on your twenty-first birthday.
Finally inside the club you bite your lip to hide a wide, giddy smile of excitement. Bodies fill the dance floor, joyously swaying to the beat. A DJ booth rises from a far corner like Sauron’s tower in the Lord of the Rings. A man with dark hair that falls in his intense eyes runs the booth; a king commanding his loyal subjects.
Liz finds her group of friends from the mall she works at spread over two successive tables with circular cushioned benches behind them. Their names and faces blur together in the low lighting, but everyone is welcoming, offering you a smile or a shake of a hand. A cheerful blonde-haired man, who you swear says his name is Bacon, takes you and Liz’s coats and purses and adds them to an overflowing pile beside him.
Before you can even think of sitting down Liz guides you onto the dance floor. Normally you’re the one in control. The one with the plan. The group leader or the one who organized the debate team fundraiser/supply closet at work/networking mixer. But it’s… nice, not having to be the center of everything, keeping it together with your effort alone.
She gives you a teasing smile as if she can read your thoughts and you roll your eyes with a laugh. ‘No overthinking this!’ she commands with a raised brow as you find a good spot.
As if I have any other way of thinking. ‘I promise nothing!’ you shrug and smile at her.
Your movements are slow at first, awkward, and you laugh to yourself with amusement. Self-deprecation has never been your poison. Along with an unshakeable drive to make something of yourself you've always had a healthy sense of self-esteem. Who cares if you aren't the best dancer?
You get into the swing after the second song and shake your ass with delight at the energy in the room and the incredible job the DJ is doing loosening you up. He’s remixing “Semi-Charmed Life” with an older techno hit you don’t recognize.
Before long Jongin, Liz’s crush and co-worker from the KOKO exercise studio, captures her attention and you end up dancing with Baekhyun (tragically not actually named Bacon) and a girl who calls herself Hitchcock. You recognize each other from a seminar last school year at UW and take a long break to catch each other up on your lives over shots at the table.
She tells you about her dual jobs at Microsoft and the movie theater at the Exodus Mall. You fill her in on your thesis project and she offers to look over your resume as you plan to apply to a similar track at the tech giant after you graduate.
When Liz said she was forcing you from your obsessive, ahem dedicated, studying for your research paper you didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t all of this. Reconnecting with a friend. A potential foot in the door at your dream job. Dancing so much that your back gets slick with sweat. Laughing with Liz so hard your stomach aches as Baekhyun attempts to breakdance, nearly falling backwards into no less than four people.
As if the night couldn’t get any better, something else catches your eye. Someone else - the DJ steps down from the booth on a break.
His black pants, white shirt, and tie would be overly formal and out of place in the nightclub, but his pushed-up sleeves reveal muscled forearms. The neon yellow sunglasses and loose piano pattern of the tie he wears make him look sexy, in an off-duty retro businessman kind of way. His face reveals none of his emotions as he slips off his shades, tucking them in his jacket pocket. But the corners of his lips tilt up with amusement as he scans the room.
Clearly he’s impressed with the atmosphere he’s created here tonight. As he should be, you think. You imagine for a moment what it would be like if he noticed you. If this was a meet-cute or the start of something. But his focus is on the bar now, not lingering on you or anyone else in the club.
Dating for you was a rocky road and absolutely nothing like the way it looked in the John Hughes movies that were your guilty pleasure growing up.
Between your parents' support and your own innate thirst for success, you always felt like an outsider in terms of relationships. Extroverted and empathetic enough to make and maintain friendships, but boys were tougher. You could never figure out dating to your satisfaction in high school and you left when most of your peers were just finishing up Sophomore year.
In college there was hope. Studious and hardworking men with glasses and a love of Emily Dickinson and black coffee. Law school-bound guys who rowed crew and whose confidence was just on the right side of attractive instead of insufferable. John Cusack types with easy smiles and crates of vinyl they carefully collected, who performed at the Comedy Underground in hopes of ‘being discovered.’
It was both thrilling and irritating. You went after dating with almost as much determination as you did your school and career, set on experiencing everything possible.
But the English major wanted someone in a pastel dress and tights, who volunteered at an animal shelter and didn’t eviscerate him at Scrabble. The future lawyer was looking for his future trophy wife, to stand beside him at fancy dinners and fraternity mixers. And the Lloyd Dobler wannabe needed a muse, a beautiful and ethereal woman to be his object of longing, to laugh at his jokes and pass through life without worry about the future.
Not that you were jealous, or even bitter. Just because you weren’t what they were looking for wasn’t anything personal and you never took it like it was. The women they wanted existed and were wonderful in all their own ways. But it grated at you, how you always felt like a square peg in a round hole. Never being the right fit.
All your life you’d gotten used to knowing, and getting, what you wanted. It was insanely frustrating to not have found anything that stuck. Failure in any form made you frown, but thankfully romantic mishaps always took a backseat to school, friends, and your future, so it was easy to ignore. Until now.
The DJ passes close enough to you and Liz that you can see the echoes of dark circles under his eyes and the rich brown of his hair in the passing neon lights. For some reason that same intuition, that same hunger and drive that had propelled you to awards and scholarships and countless other successes, tells you to follow him. Whatever it is about him, your body and your desire react before your mind and conscious rational thought.
'I'll be back,' you yell to your roommate over the music. She nods and gives you a thumbs up as she's drawn into Jongin’s embrace once more.
Like a missile you weave through the crowd, target in sight. You watch as the DJ leans against the end of the bar, carefully positioning himself so he's at the end with no one behind him. You wonder if it's out of a dislike of people sneaking up on him or if he's a predator, sizing up the crowd.
With a casual hand he orders a drink from the bartender and surveys the crowd coolly. Too high on life to care too much, you take the seat two over from him, carefully avoiding eye contact, feigning nonchalance. ‘Self-possessed,’ that’s how your fifth grade teacher described you. Independent and old beyond your years. It always thrilled you, the praise and respect of adults. You wanted to earn more of it, to be seen as capable and mature.
But something about the man beside you makes you feel younger. Raw and playful in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been before.
Admiring the cut of his jaw, you imagine kissing it. His hands on the bar are graceful, strong, befitting his profession. You want him and you want him to want you. The thought makes you inhale a deep breath, not even sure what that would mean. Adrenaline and delight fill your mind and you briefly fantasize about him holding you close on the dance floor like Jongin does to Liz. His hands on your hips and his mouth teasing your neck.
The bartender reappears on your side of the bar, his bald head gleaming in the lights of the club, and you snap back into reality. The flames tattooed across his knuckles shine as he slides a drink down the length of the bar, towards the DJ. An impulsive, reckless daring you've only ever felt before at debate tournaments makes you reach out and catch the glass of dark liquid before it can reach its desired recipient.
In one smooth motion you lift it to your lips and turn to meet the DJ's deep brown eyes. With a smirk you raise the glass. In two gulps you down the drink, the bourbon burning its way down your throat, reminding you how good it feels to be free, to be alive.
To challenge someone who feels like a decent opponent.
He watches you, his eyes flaring with surprise before fading back to indifference. He looks like a tiger in a cage at the zoo, pacing in front of a glass divider. His fingers tap impatiently on the lacquered bartop and he tilts his head, watching as you lick the moisture from your lip, savoring the taste. You wonder if he'd be just as heady and strong on your tongue.
You have the feeling that with the slightest pressure in the right place and the glass would shatter, unleashing the beast within. The thought makes you clench your thighs together, a heat filling you that has nothing to do with the people pressing in on you trying to get the attention of the bartender.
The DJ seems just as self-contained as you are. A voice inside you whispers of unstoppable forces meeting immovable objects and you wonder which of you would cave first.
Before you can say anything, before you can even wipe the satisfied smile off your lips or ask his name or offer to pay for the drink, he drops a bill to the counter and slides off the stool. He pushes into the crowd, disappearing as if he'd never been there. As if he hardly noticed you.
But you didn't miss the interest, the arousal, the animal within him rising to your challenge. He slinks back up to the DJ booth and resumes his position of power, thirst unquenched.
You don't know his name, or anything about him. Aside from the fact that the way he looks at you feels so wrong it's right, and that his hands are the first ones you've ever wanted wrapped around your waist so badly you can feel it beating in your palms.
But you know one thing, as you rejoin your roommate on the dance floor, whatever has started between you and the enigmatic DJ isn't finished.
May 21st, 1997
You straighten your blazer, looking in the mirror to make sure your outfit is perfect. It’s not your first interview this week and it certainly won’t be the last, but it is the one you’re the most curious about.
The position as a receptionist and accountant for an electronics repair store isn’t exactly how you pictured your first job after getting your MBA, but the pay and the opportunity to work alongside the enigmatic tech genius Kim Jongdae is a chance you can’t pass up.
All that’s left is the graduation ceremony in June and then you’re free. Your final exams are done, your thesis is defended, and you’ve completed a thorough and perhaps slightly obsessive spreadsheet documenting all your connections who might have an in at your most desired companies. Now knee-deep in the process of interviewing for jobs it strikes you all of a sudden that this is what you’ve been working for… almost all your life.
The lighting in the bathroom of the mall is stark and a moment of uncertainty makes your knees weak.
Since your test results in elementary school came back top of the class it’s been the same refrain. Get good grades. Impress your teachers. Study and diversify your interests and push harder every year and eventually it will all pay off, right? You’re damn proud of what you’ve done, but now, here in the after, all you can think as you watch your own reflection is - now what?
Frowning, you wonder how many other applicants there are for this job. Anyone in the tech circle in Seattle knows about Jongdae. Rumors abound that he was set to be the next Bill Gates when an investment deal went south. Or that he was kicked out of Harvard for embarrassing his professors with his superior smarts. Someone in your Econ seminar once told you she’d heard that he was contracted by the NSA to spy on foreign hackers.
Whatever his history, he currently runs a computer and electronics repair store in a very unassuming mall in Capitol Hill. You want to stand out, and what better way to do so than the track down the mystery of Kim Jongdae, the prodigy turned hermit. You infuse your veins with confidence, knowing you can handle anything thrown at you. Or so you think.
The mall is quiet and peaceful in the mid-morning on a Wednesday. A couple of tables in the food court are filled with older men and women playing cards and board games. A group of moms walks past you talking about a storytime at the bookstore in the mall.
The slow and steady hum of activity in here is a far cry from where you thought you’d be working. Professors encouraged you to head to IBM or Oracle. With your skills, business sense, and intuitive ability to pick up each new trend in technology they told you that you would have your choice of opportunities.
But while you’re no stranger to hard work and a competitive work environment, the idea of clawing your way to the top of yet another group of high achievers just sounds… awful.
You long to travel, to finally see some of the exotic and culturally rich places you’ve stuck photos of to your fridge. You want to be able to actually go out on the weekends and see your friends. Whatever your future holds you want to finally enjoy your life outside of school and work, even if it’s only for a year.
You could always recognize the friends who were interning at Amazon because they looked like they’d come off a week of no sleep. Many of your fellow MBA graduates were flocking there, as the company finally went public earlier this month. But something just felt - off to you. Like a canary in a coal mine.
Purpose, fulfillment, financial security, and a challenging work environment? Yes.
Burnout, no free time, and living and breathing for ‘the company’? No, thank you.
At the salary Jongdae had advertised you could easily continue to afford the apartment you shared with your two roommates and work on paying off the remaining student loans your scholarships hadn’t covered. And you could hide away a small amount of your check every month for the trip to Amsterdam you’ve been planning for years.
The gentle music in the wide, bright lobby of the mall makes you sigh in relief. This job is a win-win and you’re more determined than ever to get it.
You finally see the shop. If you weren’t looking for it, you’d have missed it between the black and neon purple exterior of KMS Music and the narrow security office tucked behind the lively pizza restaurant. There’s a line winding its way in front of the music store and you assume it’s for an album release. Until you realize that the line is leading straight where you’re going and stop in your tracks.
Chen's Electronics. The mall is full of colors and bright shop fronts. But this is almost bleak in comparison, as though it's resisted the outright displays of joy and liveliness that seem to be at the heart of the mall. The sign is red neon against a black and steel facade. A simple poster hangs in one of the two wide windows that frame the door.
We do:
- Hard Drive Repair
- Internet Connectivity Issues
- Computer virus protection
- Turntables, record players, and other portable home audio systems
- Radios
- POS/credit card system repair (For stores in the Exodus Mall only)
We do not:
- Sell computers or computer parts. Don't ask.
You raise a brow at the last note. The harsh exterior of the store and the brusque tone definitely match with what you've heard of Chen's Electronics - that the man who runs it is a computer genius, but that his bedside manner leaves much to be desired. Perhaps that's why the job posting emphasized 'superior customer service skills.'
The line you join grows, others coming in behind you, and you wonder if Jongdae told everyone the same 10am time frame or if he staggered interviews throughout the day. As you wait the line slowly dwindles. A woman leaves crying a few minutes later, and you watch her go with surprise and attempt to peek into the store. You’re still too far back to see in, so you’re left to wait and wonder.
Finally you’re next, waiting just outside the store. A printed piece of paper is taped to the door. CLOSED FOR INTERVIEWS it says in big, bolded letters.
The tall man who was ahead of you in line isn’t visible at either of the two work stations set up inside the shop. There must be a back room of some kind. You take the moment to check out the space. The store is organized chaos. Rows of shelves line each of the two walls, full of equipment - computers in various states of disassembly, old transistor radios, a VHS player, a few turntables, and endless coiled stacks of cords interspersed.
The walls above them and the two walls behind the work stations, on either side of the hallway leading to the back, are blank. No advertisements or personalized touches to make the business seem welcoming. Just bland, empty beige walls. One desk has only a computer, keyboard, and mouse. The other is full of parts and tools that extend over the desk to not one, but two shelving units behind it. Like Jongdae was in the middle of a project and the interviews are a rude interruption.
A muffled angry shout comes from the back, behind the gray curtain hung up over the entrance to the rear of the store. The tall man moves it aside with a sneer as he charges across the floor. With a voice practically a growl he shoves open the door and you jolt back to avoid being hit.
He looks you up and down and shakes his head. ‘Good luck. You’ll need it.’
After a last straightening of your jacket you swallow and push through the door. It's quiet inside, almost reverent, as the door closes behind you. The fluorescent lighting overhead isn't the most welcoming and the tan carpet is terribly dated. No one comes to meet you. The man on the other side must be waiting, like a dragon in his lair.
Your hand closes over the strap of your purse and you hesitate at the curtain, not wanting to move forward without being invited. 'Hello?'
Footsteps come down the short hallway and a hand appears, moving the curtain out of the way to reveal a man. Your jaw almost drops. Oh, shit. It's not at all who you were expecting the famed Jongdae to be - a studious man with glasses and a bad tie.
No, this man is handsome in an aggressive way. His black hair is styled back in a neat wave. His high cheekbones and strong brows hold no humor or friendliness. Only the catlike upturn of his lips stands in rebellious contrast to his unwelcoming face.
This isn't the first time you've seen this face either, you realize, and it's like being run over by a train. He seems to connect the dots at the same moment and his eyes widen, eyebrows raising. It’s the DJ from the bar. The drink. The - oh, god.
He presses his mouth together, smothering his surprise and sitting down harshly in the chair at the crowded desk in the main room. 'What are you doing here?' He keeps his voice tightly contained, not minding in the least that the other potential job candidates are surely watching you both right now.
You give yourself a small shake and remember you're not here to hit on him. You're here for a job. 'I have an interview.'
Best case is ignoring the whole thing. It didn’t happen. Not here in the light of day. His poker face might be good, but yours is better. You keep your breathing even and hope that the racing of your heart isn’t making your cheeks red.
He tilts his head to the side, pressing his lips together in amusement. ‘Alright then.’ Turning to the side he stands and holds the curtain open, allowing you to pass by him into the small office behind.
Holding his focus, you pull out the chair in front of the desk and sit down. You place the resume and references on the table between you and fold your hands on your lap, waiting.
Jongdae takes his place opposite you as he slides the papers across the desk. His eyes dart faster than you can imagine anyone reading. He doesn’t seem flustered, but the tips of his ears are just slightly pink, his nose flaring a bit too much, and you realize he’s just as caught off guard as you are.
Finally, he finishes. 'I… don't think this is going to work.' He looks up, his hand resting on your paperwork on the desk. His face gives away nothing, but his eyes are wild and full of emotion you can’t decipher.
'Why is that?' You keep your voice steady, determined. He’s not going to dismiss you so quickly. Realizing the DJ and the tech wunderkind are one in the same has only heightened your desire to show him you’re the best person for the job.
Jongdae stares at you. This time, there's heat in his expression. You feel his eyes move over you, not taking in the professional attire, but clearly remembering the dress you wore from the club instead. 'I think you know why,' he says under his breath.
Clearing your throat you lean forward, drawn to him by some force you can't define. Like something is shoving you towards this job. 'I don't know what you mean. The posting was for an office manager and bookkeeper. I'm qualified in both and I have plenty of experience. Are you really going to decide I’m not a good fit without even asking me a single question?'
He groans and runs a hand through his hair, his composure faltering for an instant. 'Why do you want this position? You know nothing about me.'
He states it like a fact, not an opening for discussion, but you jump on it anyway. 'I know plenty.'
Satisfaction blooms in your chest when he narrows his eyes, raising a brow. 'I do my research, Mr. Kim. I’m top of my class at UW and I didn’t get there by accident. With such a small team I could get a far broader experience than I could being just another cog in the machine at Microsoft. I might not know you personally, but your reputation precedes you. I plan to excel in the tech industry. And to do that, I need to work with the best. Simple as that.'
'And I'm the best?' He leans back in his chair. Resting his elbow on the armrest, he drags a finger across his lips in appraisal.
His quick responses remind you of the competitive tennis you played growing up. The way it felt to thrive when paired with an equal opponent, someone who could match your speed and precision. Someone who gave as good as they got. How it made you better, sharpened your skills and reflexes up against someone who you couldn’t easily defeat.
'Are you trying to tell me you're not?' You cross your arms and look around, feigning surprise and curiosity. 'If you tell me who is, I'll happily go apply to be their office manager.'
He almost laughs in amusement. You can feel it. But he covers it as a cough instead and tilts his head to the side, sizing you up. 'And you know what this job entails?'
You repeat it easily from memory. 'Being the face of the business. Greeting walk-in customers. Helping them figure out if what they need is something we do. Conferring with you about pricing. Scheduling service appointments over the phone. Processing payments. Ordering supplies. Occasional advertising assistance. Other assorted duties as needed.'
'That about sums it up.'
In the charged silence you hear the muffled noises of the mall - children squealing with delight, orders being called out at the pizza restaurant next door, people talking - but it's all separated. You wonder if the distance is intentional. Many stores have roll up gates or at least have their doors propped open to draw in customers. But not Jongdae. It’s almost as though he’s actively trying to keep visitors out.
You favor boldness and decide to push him, what have you got to lose? 'So, when do I start?' Leaning forward, you give him a relaxed smile. ‘Unless you’d like to terrorize a few more applicants before you choose me? I’m happy to wait, Mr. Kim. But you can’t scare me away. And you don’t intimidate me.’
With equal decisiveness he cracks a lopsided grin and shakes his head, with both amusement and resignation. 'How's now for you?'
You give a passing thought to the other jobs, the ones you’d already interviewed for and the ones on your schedule over the coming days. They all go up in a whiff of smoke as you extend your hand across the table to shake Jongdae’s hand.
‘Now is perfect.’ His palm is warm against yours and you do your best not to react to the contact, but you can’t help the soft sigh that escapes you.
Jongdae withdraws his hand quickly, and you note with pleasure that he seems a bit shaken as he stands. ‘I’ll be right back. You can leave your things here.’ He motions to the coat hooks on the wall by the door and the tall, thin bookshelf with a few cubby slots.
Aside from a black scarf and a few extra office supplies on two of the shelves the rest of the space is empty. You wonder what he isn't saying. 'What made you want help, all of a sudden?’ He pauses and turns back to you. ‘From what I can tell you've been in business for a few years. Why now?'
He sighs. 'I'm too busy to keep doing this by myself.'
'Ah. And you hate that, don't you?'
The ghost of a smile graces his lips. 'Yes.'
Jongdae disappears through the curtain. You follow him after putting your coat on a hook and your purse in one of the spotless cubbies. The rest of the space contains a few filing cabinets, stacks of boxes, and a small safe resting on a narrow table.
When you appear back into the hallway you see a door to the left that must lead out the back. And on the opposite side is an archway with a kitchen sink, a microwave, a small fridge, and a few cupboards inside, along with a small circular table. The table has only one chair. You smile to yourself. Clearly he's accustomed to doing everything by himself.
When you emerge the other applicants are dispersing as he peels the taped sign off the door, balling it up in his hands.
Jongdae gets you set up on the computer at the other desk. It’s a relatively simple customer management software and payment system, both of which you pick up in no time. He runs you through the pricing list, pulling a laminated form from the top drawer. His filing system for customer accounts is simple and alphabetized.
Neither of you speak about that night again, but oh, do you feel it - the electricity between you when he stands too close or you meet his eyes.
Until lunch he alternates between training you and assisting customers who come in every so often. It's all straightforward, nothing you haven't managed before, and by the afternoon you're already scheduling appointments in the large old-school appointment book he keeps open to the current week.
Despite the passion and intensity in the music he plays, he keeps an even keel throughout his day job. It's almost as if you went to sleep last night and somehow woke up as someone who's worked here for years. Before closing at 5:30 he remembers other things and hands you a packet on the way out. Tax forms, an employment agreement listing the salary and benefits, and a non-disclosure form. Most of it is standard, but you wonder what kind of secrets he needs to protect at an electronics store.
You gather your things and wait outside while he closes down the shop, turning off the lights as he goes. It’s still quite sunny outside and with a shock you realize that there’s nothing waiting for you, now that the work day is done. No papers to write or projects to finish or internship to head to. The idea makes you feel unexpectedly buoyant, and when Jongdae steps out to lock the doors you give him an easy smile.
He returns it, giving you a small one of his own in response. ‘So, I normally take Tuesdays off and keep the shop closed. Wednesdays are normally pretty slow. How does Thursday through Monday sound to you? I know today is Wednesday, so if you wanted to take tomorrow off instead that’s fine with me.’
‘I’m happy to come in tomorrow.’ You want to wince at the eagerness in your voice, but instead you stand firm, holding your purse in front of you with both hands.
Jongdae slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nods, looking at you for a long moment before speaking. ‘Sounds great, I’ll see you then.’
You nod at him too, turning back towards the department store to head out to your car. After a beat you look behind you and see he’s still watching. His gaze is unfocused on the floor before he shakes his head, seeming to come back to himself. He heads the opposite direction, towards the movie theater. In a few seconds he’s disappeared behind the pizza place, out of sight.
Jongdae takes the longer route home today. His apartment overlooking Lake Union is the one he grew up in, his grandfather’s place. When he passed away a year ago he left it to Jongdae and it never occurred to him to move. He walks along the water, breathing in the early summer air, wanting to laugh at himself. How long has it been since he let himself be impulsive? To act on instinct. To want something.
He’d settled into a routine these past few years, since everything changed after graduation. Working at the store. Reading. Playing Go and chess with his grandfather and the other older men that lived in the building. They’d go fishing out on the peninsula or to the local symphonies that his grandfather loved. Routine had saved him when his world fell apart once, but now, with his grandfather’s absence, he’s not sure how to pick up the pieces anymore.
The seagulls on the pier are loud today, hungrily gobbling up the bread and Ivar’s french fries tossed to them by the kids gathered around. They giggle and laugh, running to their parents for more offerings. Jongdae frowns for a moment, the sadness that he doesn’t often acknowledge creeping into his heart.
His parents were gone before he really even had a chance to know them. His father to lung cancer, from the awful smoking habit he picked up in the Navy. His mother moved back to Korea to be with her family, unable to cope being in the city without her husband. Jongdae didn’t blame her, but the distance grew and they drifted apart as he became an adult himself.
Jongdae’s father’s father settled here after World War Two, along with a few of his friends. From what he remembers there wasn’t a discussion about it after the funeral - if he’d stay or go back to Korea with his mother. One day when he was young he knew his father had passed. His mother left. And with two duffle bags slung over his shoulders and little Jongdae in his arms his grandfather had moved him into the apartment with the pretty view of the water.
And that’s the way it was, ever since.
In school his friends might have joked that Jongdae was an old man himself. Doing the New York Times crossword puzzle on Sundays, getting his hair cut at the same hole-in-the-wall barber shop in Chinatown as his grandfather, and hanging out with more octogenarians than people his own age. But he loved his grandfather and the two of them were so close that he never stopped to question whether he should change to fit in with the rest of his classmates.
The only aberration came when he started DJ-ing at eighteen. The crowd he fell in with and the partying he did was short lived; they crashed and burned, went up in flames. Everything else faded as quickly as it had come, but the club scene was his escape and it stayed with him.
These days it feels like the only time he recognizes himself, now that his grandfather is gone, too. Until you walked into his store today, that is. You looked him dead in the eyes, unafraid. Just like the night all those weeks ago in the club when you came up to him, flirted with him and challenged him.
He doesn’t know how to move on with his life.
He doesn’t know what’s next.
But wanting you, inviting you into his life, is going to change everything. He knows it in his bones and for once change excites him, instead of frightens him.
June 18th, 1997
For an achingly slow two hours on Thursday the only sounds in the shop are your typing and Jongdae’s tools hitting the metallic insides of the radio he’s fixing. You should be processing yesterday's supply orders. Or cleaning up the books to get everything ready for the days' billing before you make a run to the bank.
But instead you watch in your periphery the way the muscle in Jongdae’s jaw moves when he's focusing. How his brows pull together and his lower lip sticks out slightly, making him look as though he's perpetually pouting. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in school. If he was always so... uptight. Or if he was freer, looser. Not that you’re the picture of ease yourself, but he seems to almost vibrate with tension.
You watch as he turns back to the computer, his fingers fly across the keyboard and you admire the absolute focus he shows toward the screen in front of him. The past few days he’s handled repairs and projects for businessmen and women, families, and two gentlemen in suits that screamed ‘government’ to you. He could be repairing a nuclear warhead in front of you and you imagine his expression would remain the same.
His standard white button-up shirt bunches around his biceps while he works. A mischievous part of you wonders what it would take to make his robotic exterior crack again. What it would take for him to show joy or anger or arousal. Emotion from him is a precious, rare thing and you want to grab them when they do show, holding them tightly as proof they exist.
You jolt, realizing the unintended destination your thoughts have arrived at. Arousal. Where did that come from? With a cough and a shake of your head you refocus on the financial statements in front of you.
If you hadn't seen him that night at the club you'd have wondered if he ever enjoyed himself. He wasn't smiling that night, but the music and the dancing and the palpable energy seemed to soften the hard lines of his face. You want to see more of that Jongdae, the one that feels so much closer to who he really is, underneath it all.
However he started in this business, in the tech scene, he works away at it as though it's his sole purpose in life. He's clearly talented enough to fix anything, code anything. You’d asked him last week how he knows what to do, as you looked into a complicated mess of wires sticking out of a broken CPU as though it were gibberish.
All he’d said, in a gruff voice, was that his grandfather liked to tinker and take things apart before putting them back together, to see how they worked, and that he’d picked up the habit.
'Why do you work by yourself?' The sound of your voice is much louder than intended, breaking the hush in the store. You want to swallow the words, unsure why you didn't stop them from escaping. Instead you bite the skin on the inside of your cheek and watch as he lifts his head to look at you.
Jongdae raises a brow. 'As opposed to?'
You stop typing and lean back in your chair. 'You could have worked for anyone, I bet. After you graduated college. I’ve heard a few of the rumors about you. It sounds like you could have done anything you wanted. What made you want to start your own business?'
He mirrors your pose. 'What makes you think I went to college?'
You blink. For so long your parents' idea of a prosperous life - good grades, extracurriculars, graduate from a top college, get a lucrative, secure job - had been so ingrained that it surprises you to imagine that someone like him didn't go to school. 'You didn't?'
He smiles, the dimple appearing briefly in his cheek. 'Alright, fine. Yes, I did. I went to M.I.T. and I, uhm, graduated at seventeen.'
'Seventeen?' The competitive drive that buried itself in your bones early on wants to prove itself to him, awed by the size of his intellect.
'With my PhD.' He winces. Just for a moment, but you catch it.
'Oh,' you say with a stunned laugh.
He goes back to work with a quick shake of his head and a sigh. 'Yeah, that right there is why I don't tell people.'
You’re surprised by his assumption that you’d view it as a bad or repulsive fact. 'It's amazing. You should be proud of it. Why would you want to keep that a secret?'
His lip pouts again and irrationally you think about what it would be like to kiss him. 'Because now you'll look at me differently. Like I'm some kind of freak of nature.'
'I don't think it makes you a freak.' Your answer is immediate and emphatic.
'Oh really?' He gives you a side-glance, keeping his tone neutral.
'No, it makes you a genius. And intelligence is never a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact.' It does nothing to help the attraction you feel for him. Rather than dousing the flames, it pours gasoline on them.
'Tell that to -' he stops himself, pressing his lips together. The bitterness in his voice makes you jerk back in your seat. ‘Nevermind. It was a long time ago. Forget I said anything.’
But you can fill in the gaps, no stranger to the judgement of others. 'Clearly you need better friends.'
He blinks, vulnerability filling his eyes. 'Like you?' His expression softens and he gives you a half-smile.
You blush, realizing what it must look like that you’re so passionate about defending him. 'Sorry, I didn't - all I mean is that it’s attractive.’ You curse yourself and cough delicately, trying to appear impartial. ‘An attractive quality. I just got my master’s and I thought I was advanced for my age. So I just meant to say… I get it. And you’re not a freak.’
The moment stretches out between you, the air in the space seeming to pause. The muted, reverent silence fills the distance once more. But this time it’s charged, tense. Waiting. He breathes in deeply, the shirt he wears stretching across his chest and yet again you long to touch him. For a beat his gaze drops to your lips and he swallows, opening his mouth to speak.
But he’s interrupted by the door opening. The ding of the motion sensor makes you both jolt, turning to see who it is. An older woman comes in carrying a heavy looking bag. She coughs and leans against the door to rest.
Jongdae bolts up from his desk, clearing his throat. 'Here, let me help with that.'
He bows to her with a warm smile, holding his hands out to take the bag. She nods and Jongdae slings the bag over his shoulder, wincing when it collides with his back. With a gentle arm around her back he helps her into the chair opposite his desk.
'Thank you, young man,' the woman says with a smile.
'Not at all,' Jongdae says, resuming his post on the stool. 'How can I help you today?'
You're certain your mouth has fallen open. To difficult customers he's brief, almost condescending, and for the nice ones he’s reserved and polite, but nothing like this. For over an hour he patiently connects the woman's computer to his power strip and walks her through how to use it.
Again and again he shows her the links and how to work the web browser. Installs a complimentary virus protection program. Makes sure she can find the Solitaire application she loves. And only charges her $20.
But after she leaves the next customer is a businessman dressed in what looks to be a very expensive suit. Jongdae spends the laughably short visit practically sneering at the man. And he charges him at least twice what it says on the pricing list he gave you.
As soon as the door closes you release the laugh you’ve been holding in. 'You know, for someone who runs a business, you seem hell bent on driving some of your customers away.'
He shakes his head, hair falling in his eyes. 'He was a moron. You don't buy the Rolls Royce of computers if you don't know how to drive it.'
'So the only exception here is kind old ladies?'
Jongdae barks out a laugh, meeting your gaze and looking younger than you’ve ever seen him. 'Exactly.'
June 28th, 1997
Moments after you walk out the door for lunch during a bustling Saturday it pings again, announcing yet another customer. This one is probably his scheduled twelve o’clock appointment, Jongade thinks as he looks distractedly at his watch.
He turns to greet them and his entire body recoils. 'What do you want?' Jongdae practically hisses, but he keeps his tone even with all his might.
Since you’ve taken over scheduling Jongdae hardly looks at his calendar anymore. If he’d known Julian Danforth was seeking his help he would have told him to fuck off. Unfortunately Jongdae’s hesitation in talking about his past means you could have no possible idea how much the man standing before him used to matter.
Julian strolls in with a computer in his arms and a smugness on his mouth that Jongdae wants to punch off. His sunglasses are perched on the top of his head and his khaki shorts have neatly pressed lines, clearly not done by the man himself, who drips with privilege.
He'd thought these feelings were long buried, but they roar in Jongdae’s chest. The friendships and the future he almost had are now scattered behind him like a trail of carnage, all the fault of this man. The burn of sadness and embarrassment that fills Jongdae’s stomach was supposed to be gone, relinquished to ashes. But seeing one of his former best friends again Jongdae feels like he's ten years old, stuck in a class with far older students. Young, inexperienced, an outcast.
‘Good afternoon to you as well, old friend.’ Ignoring the daggers Jongdae is staring at him, Julian steps forward, setting the computer down on the desk. 'Like I told the woman on the phone I'm having a problem with some computer virus.'
He says it like it’s a slimy, living thing that had crawled into his machine. Displeasure colors his expression; annoyed at the mere thought that his money and status don’t render him immune from such commonplace problems. ‘You know I don’t trust anyone else with my system.’
After what you did I should smash your computer open. Jongdae doesn't speak as plugs the machine into the power strip he rigged to his desk, not willing to risk what he’ll say.
It's a far more expensive model of computer than most of his clients bring in. Those who purchase such a high end version fall into two camps - enthusiasts like himself who know what they're getting, or the rich and famous who buy them as status symbols and have no clue how to work them. Julian, unfortunately, falls into the latter category.
The computer starts up and Jongdae’s mind goes into work mode, tuning out Julian. The virus has rendered it unusable, only a blur of symbols and lines of code flit across the screen. None of the normal exit keys brings up the desktop. Jongdae purses his lips and slides in the floppy disk he keeps beside his own monitor, an anti-virus he designed.
He leans into muscle memory as he runs through the start up and sets the program to do its job. With any luck the idiot just found some simple malware from some incredibly obvious email spam or downloaded a bug on a porn site. In all social and business sense Julian is a shark; he'd never have fallen for such an obvious scam in real life. But when it came to computers and technology he was hopeless, and thus Jongdae had come into his life years ago.
'How long have you been set up here?' Julian asks with a dismissive glance at the machines and equipment stacked on the shelves.
'Why do you care?' The question comes out harsher than he intends, but the emotion isn't entirely unearned.
Once upon a time he and Julian met in Seattle, after Jongdae was fresh out of M.I.T. and Julian had flunked out of yet another University. They were determined to build a business together. If he had more energy Jongdae would wear this store and his reputation proudly, built from no family connections or money, just his own intelligence and drive. After how thoroughly Julian severed Jongdae’s life he should rub his success in Julian’s face with pride.
Instead he ignores him, determined to move on.
The program finishes its run in rapid time, as though it knows how quickly Jongdae wants this moment to end. The virus dissipates and the desktop loads like normal. He's tempted for a second to indulge his curiosity to see what Julian has been up to. Last he knew Julian had gone to work at his father’s investment bank, dreams of standing on his own cowed by the reality of the world outside of his comfortable bubble. Without Jongdae there’s no way the business and the program held up to scrutiny.
For a second Jongdae stares at the screen, remembering how good it had felt to have found his people. Tech nerds, hungry to build something that would change the world. Julian, who wanted to cast off his father’s legacy and strike out on his own. Julian’s girlfriend Marissa and her soft heart, who wanted to help people. Their friend Albert, with the plan.
Once he knew them so well he hardly knew where he ended and they began. But now, all these years later, they’re strangers.
Jongdae looks up and watches Julian as he absently admires the collection of turntables on the wall behind the desk. He knows Julian well enough to know this might be an act of contrition, his way of bridging the gap he created to reach out the olive branch of friendship once more. But Jongdae’s curiosity already killed the cat once, spectacularly, and he has no desire to repeat the mistake.
He unplugs the machine and watches the screen go dark, shoving it with both hands across the polished wood surface towards Julian. 'There. It's fixed.'
For customers who are far more polite and far less acquainted with Jongdae he might have explained what caused the virus or recommended an anti-virus software or even shared best practices to avoid getting one in the future. But, for Julian, he'll do what he was hired for and nothing more.
Julian stands and clears his throat uncomfortably. 'How much do I owe you?' A hint of guilt as he pulls out his wallet.
The motion reminds Jongdae of vacations to Marissa's family home in the San Juans or partying with Julian, Albert, and the rest of them in Capitol Hill. When they turned on him it was like the sun went out. He managed to take his pride and his love of music and DJing and escape. Once Jongae rebuilt his life the doors to the past firmly closed.
Anger finally peeks through as he waves a dismissive arm at Julian. 'I don't want your money. Not spending a second longer in your company will be all the payment I need.' He stands as well. Their business today is done and he lets his memories of the past fall before him like ashes.
An awkward beat passes between them and finally Julian breaks eye contact. With a nod to the ground he pushes out the door and disappears, carrying his computer.
He breathes out a sigh of relief, folds his arms, annoyed at how his position and his continued presence here in Seattle occasionally brings him into contact with people like Julian. He should have moved, he thinks. Gone to Singapore or Berlin or London or New York. But for some reason, he stayed.
Through the front window he watches you laugh with your friends in the food court and smiles to himself, thinking of how you call him Scrooge. It should unnerve him, how quickly seeing you or speaking to you or simply thinking you makes his day better, more hopeful; chases away the shadows that linger in his mind when he's left alone for too long. No, left alone isn't the right word. When he isolates himself.
Jongdae doesn’t really know you, not yet. But already he wants to make all of your dreams come true, he wants to make them real.
The thought is so sentimental and kind and soft that it brings him up short. He bites the inside of his lip and tries to fight the warm feeling in his chest as he watches you laugh. But as he resumes his work he acknowledges that maybe there was a reason he stayed in Seattle, after all.
The mall is packed during lunch; it’s one of the only days you and your roommates and Hitchcock all work together so you’ve christened it Saturday girl’s lunch time. But Baekhyun and Chanyeol of course crash in, as they always seem to. Loud and raucous and happy. Others from their wide circle of friends drop by to grab slices or to make plans for tonight.
Baekhyun sticks two straws in his nose and makes what are probably very scientifically inaccurate walrus noises. As you laugh so hard you almost snort you can’t help but feel like something is missing. Someone is missing. You look back to the shop, drawn to Jongdae as always.
He works away, resuming his repairs after chasing another customer away with his attitude. You sigh, watching the blonde preppy man carry away his enormous computer, muttering to himself. You rest your foot on the edge of your chair and drop your chin to your knee. From this angle, surrounded by the stark design of the store and the fluorescent lights from above, Jongdae looks like he’s trapped inside of a screen himself.
You bite your lip, debating. He’s made it clear that whatever happened between you at the club isn’t something he will discuss, or repeat. But friendship? Community? You work together five days a week and it wouldn’t kill him to get out of his enclosure once in a while. It’s done you good this month, to be out and about with people. Like you can finally breathe for the first time in a long time. And you decide that it’s high time Jongdae do the same.
Liz and Jane, your roommates, call you ‘determined.’ But they say it in a way that clearly means ‘like a homing missile,’ when you want something. Your nature has served you well; you can cut through the bullshit and figure people out almost instantly. It’s helped you both professionally and personally. Allowed you to know immediately which friendships would last, which ones were worth the effort.
Maybe it’s how Jongdae looks like an island, all alone in the shop. Maybe it’s the large Coke that infused you with far too much caffeine. Maybe it’s your insatiable curiosity. But you can’t keep watching him from afar, not when there’s something you can do about it.
‘I’ll be right back.’ Pulling on your denim jacket, you march over to the store. You lean inside the glass door, holding it open with your shoulder. ‘Hey, you.’
Jongdae looks up at you, confusion tugging his brows together, making him befuddled in the cutest way. You tell yourself to stop thinking of him like that, even if you want to.
He blinks and refocuses on you. ‘Back already?’
‘No, but we’ve got more than enough pizza. Why don’t you join us?’ You grin, making a show of looking around the empty office. ‘It’s finally slowed down, and you deserve a break.’
‘I’m on a deadline with this.’ He gestures to the modem that is scattered around him.
You fold your arms and lean against the door. ‘You can fix that in twenty minutes. I know you.’ He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. ‘And before you throw another excuse you should know I’m very persuasive when I want to be. I don’t think you have another option.’
Jongdae barks out a laugh, dropping the tools in his hand to the desk with a thud. ‘Determined to drag me from my lair, huh?’ He holds your gaze, his expression filling with something akin to heat. Finally he gives you a rueful smile. ‘You’re not going to give up on this, are you?’
You meet his eyes and raise a brow, smiling with satisfaction. ‘Nope. Absolutely not.’
The certainty on his face turns into sadness, so fast you can’t be sure it was really there. Then he closes off and he’s quiet, more so than normal. ‘It doesn’t come easily to me.’
Wondering what could have changed so quickly you step forward, letting the door close behind you. ‘What, pizza?’
It shakes you how desperately you want to know. To peel back his skull and see inside his brain, just to understand what makes him tick. His history and where his future is headed. That small voice inside you whispers that once you figure it out, it still won’t make you care less about him.
‘Friends.’ He says it on a gasp. Looking at the floor fixedly, avoiding your eyes, he seems haunted.
The silence surrounds you both and he finally meets your focus again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The pieces start to come together. He’s intelligent, preternaturally so, and so advanced in school you can’t imagine he’s had much experience with people his own age. And now that he’s in his mid-twenties he’s built himself a fortress. Close enough to the rest of the world, but distinctly separate.
Irrationally you want to reach across the space and wrap his hands in yours. Tug him into your growing group of friends and fix the ache in your chest his expression gives you. Not sympathy and certainly not pity, but some sensation that’s like butterflies in your stomach. But- he’s your boss. You’re not his keeper and you don’t think whatever dangerous emotion lives in you is what would help him.
He’s not yours and you don’t have the right to push, much that you want to.
‘Ah,’ you say. ‘I see. Well, more often than not we have Saturday pizza out there. The offer always stands. I’ll leave you be if you want to be alone, but just -’ you swallow and give him a tentative smile. ‘Just know that we’d be happy to have you join us. I’d be. Uhm. Happy if you joined us.’ It comes out in a rush and you groan.
With a shake of your head, an uncharacteristic gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, you wave at him and push back out the door into the noise of the mall.
It’s a shame you don’t turn back. Or no, he thinks, it’s better this way. Jongdae feels far too much for you to keep it contained behind his normally stony expression.
You seem like the kind of person who would take that moment of openness and pull on it, until he unravels in front of you. Fear tells him you would take everything and when you're gone he'd be even more alone than before, now that he knows what it's like with you here.
Looking out through the glass he watches you rejoin the lively group. Always he’s felt like a science experiment, or some kind of circus exhibit when he was growing up. If he didn’t have his grandfather’s steady support and gentle guidance he surely would have become even more isolated.
With a shake of his head, he attempts to refocus on the project at hand. For some reason it doesn't fill him up like he wants it to, his usual joy and satisfaction is missing when he picks up the screwdriver once more. This is where he thrives. Computers and the internet and coding.
To other people it's a labyrinth, impossible to figure out. A world and a language they can speak and learn with effort and intention and study. But to him it's always been as easy as breathing.
His grandfather took his skills from the military and parlayed them into a business as a prolific handyman. It was the world they shared. A place where Jongdae’s creativity and his intelligence could soar. Anything he wanted to build or make, he could. Coding a rudimentary game to pass the time after school, when he could hear the neighborhood kids playing soccer outside.
It took him many wonderful places that he wouldn't have been able to reach if he was, for lack of a better word, normal. As a child and even in school it was so easy to hide behind his grades and his projects and the pride and hope of the adults around him. But now, at twenty five, there’s nothing to keep him hidden anymore.
When lunch is over you return and join him with a nod. He hopes you don't regret asking. He nearly hopes you'll try again. Maybe next Saturday.
For how confident he feels in some spaces - DJing at Shari's, here in his ‘lair’ - at the thought of joining a group of friends he feels again like a nervous thirteen year old sitting in his first college course. Like everyone around him knew how to do things he couldn’t comprehend.
He keeps his thoughts and his feelings to himself; he’s already shared more than he planned. But you draw him back into conversation easily enough, asking about the afternoons orders to be picked up. You don't shy away from him or give him an angry offended air. Inexplicably you still look at him warmly, openly, and he wants more than he's dared to let himself want in a very, very long time.
July 11th, 1997
He doesn't normally leave the office at lunch, preferring to eat his meals in his back office alone, but today Jongdae braves the food court.
It’s a Friday not a Saturday, but it’s a start. He makes brief, yet friendly, conversation with Chanyeol at the pizza place. The taller man smiles at Jongdae, easily, as though he doesn’t second guess the action. He asks if Jongdae had caught the Mariner's game over the weekend and they talk about how Griffey might finally lead Seattle to a World Series this year.
For once he doesn't feel like going back to the office and burying his head in his work. Jongdae awkwardly pulls out a chair in the cluster of tables between the bookstore and the record store. As he takes a bite of his pizza he hears a familiar laugh. Turning around he sees you through the glass of the bookstore.
You speak to the woman who owns Greyhame Books, standing beside someone he thinks is possibly called Jane. It all seems so… easy for you. Tucking your hair behind your ear you lean against the counter, discussing the stack of books in front of you with your friends.
Jongdae gives a rare laugh to no one but himself.
When he imagined hiring an accountant and administrator for his flourishing business he thought he'd get someone older. A person with experience and a similar level of wanting to be left alone. They could ignore him and he could ignore them, delegating filing and payments and customer questions and not have to think about them again.
An employee was supposed to reclaim the silence and peace that his work used to bring. Technology is so much simpler and predictable than humans and he’d really prefer to cut other people out of the equation entirely.
But you are the opposite of simple, and you absolutely aren’t someone he can ignore. From the moment he recognized you he knew he had to hire you. With your intensity and your impressive resume and the way your mouth pulls to the side when you’re trying not to smirk.
He doesn't regret it. But he feels raw in a way he hasn't allowed himself to in years. Jongdae doesn't let people get close. Not anymore.
'Hey, Jongdae!'
With a pizza slice halfway to his mouth Jongdae spots Junmyeon approaching, waving, a large Starbucks drink in hand. He wants to turn away and hide in his pizza. He isn't good at this - making friends. For months Junmyeon has asked him to join in their monthly networking events here at the mall, or asked him to get a drink at Flanagan’s after work to chat. Jongdae’s all out of excuses.
He imagines his life as a circuit board. There’s his life now - pieces and wires scattered around him - and there’s the life he could have. If he’s brave and if he tries. He imagines the pieces fitting together and what they might build. He wonders if you might fit in, if you’d want him or let him.
His knee is jiggling and he’s nervous, but he takes a deep breath and waves back. ‘Hey Jun! Want to join me for a bit?’ Jun’s expression is surprised - the man doesn’t know how to keep back any of his emotions. ‘If you have time, I mean. No pressure.’ He stutters, pulse racing and cheeks reddening.
Jun grins and sits down opposite him. ‘Absolutely. About time! I thought you’d turn me down forever,’ he laughs. ‘Thanks again for helping me with that broken radio last month. You’re a pro. So, how’s business?’ He sips his coffee and waits patiently.
They can talk about business, something so easy? Jongdae wants to laugh with relief. Maybe he can do this after all.
Junmyeon is amused.
After ten minutes of talking shop with Jongdae he watches as you and Jane leave the bookstore next to their lunch spot. He’s owned a business two doors down from Jongdae for years, but he’s never seen him smile before. When you pass by it’s like someone flipped on a light switch. Jongdae has always been somewhat quiet, somewhat serious, except when he DJs. Now he sits straighter, his face softens, and his eyes fixate on yours like a magnet.
The two of you claim the other seats at the table, showing off the books you purchased. In between sips of his coffee Junmyeon balances his own flirtation with Jane and observing - okay, spying - on you and Jongdae.
He’s warmed by not just the caffeinated beverage. There’s a soft energy here- It’s a warm summer day and he’s discussing books, one of his all-time favorite topics. His mind whispers the words ‘double date’ and he smiles to himself for a moment before blinking.
“Are you alright?” Jane asks, gently resting her hand on Junmyeon’s wrist on the table.
He blushes and gives her a reassuring nod and asks if she’s read the Octavia Butler book on top of her stack yet. It’s an attempt at distraction and he knows it. But thankfully Jane’s eyes crinkle in the corners when she talks about the author, not pausing or seeming to notice the way he was fantasizing for a beat.
Across from him you and Jongdae are arguing about the merits of Isaac Asmiov. Jongdae is more articulate, more animated, more alive than he’s ever seen him. Gesturing emphatically and saying something about how robots are friends, not foes as you interrupt him by reminding him about Terminator. Neither of you seem to acknowledge the attraction between you. It’s been months since you started working at Chen’s, if Junmyeon remembers correctly.
In his periphery he sees Temptation, the chocolate store, and thinks of how Yixing and his girlfriend met on the job. One of his favorite poems mentions how love mirrors the lover; that everyone falls in love in a way akin to their personality. Yixing, passionate and insatiable and spontaneous, fell for Lavender in minutes and days. He saw what he wanted and after a slight pause to make sure it’s what Lav really wanted, he made the move.
Jongdae is nothing if not the complete opposite. Calculating and reserved and inscrutable.
His potential new friend is falling, if the lingering looks he gives you and the way he’s almost touched your shoulder not once but twice are any indication. But it’s a mystery to Junmyeon if, or when, Jongdae will ever make a move. You aren’t the same kind of romantic as Yixing’s girlfriend, someone playful and open with your emotions. You’re driven and witty and warm in your own way. Clearly you care for Jongdae, but in a quieter sense.
Junmyeon imagines this will be a marathon of love, not a sprint.
Eventually lunch hours end for all of you. There’s clients to see and paperwork to do and as he waves to you and Jane he wonders what will become of you and Jongdae. If you’ll stay as co-workers, always flirting and secretly wondering what might be. Or if either of you will push the other into action. The chess board is laid out, pieces waiting to be moved. It might just be his imagination, but Junmyeon hopes that one of you gets the game going.
He does also, perhaps, focus on you and Jongdae as a way to ignore how his own heart beats a bit faster around Jane. How he can’t stop staring at her dimple when she smiles or the head tilt she gives him when she’s really listening. Like he’s the only person in the world. No, he absolutely doesn’t think about Jane’s feet i n his lap as they both read on the couch in his living room. He doesn’t wonder what it would be like to kiss her or hold her hand. Absolutely not.
Instead he invites Jongdae to the monthly Settlers of Catan night he has with Minseok and some other folks from the mall. Much safer territory than wondering about his own love story and if still waters truly do run deep where he and Jane are concerned.
August 11th, 1997
On a surprisingly rainy yet unsurprisingly dead Monday morning Jongdae forces you away from your insistent attempts to organize his paperwork to the market a few streets over. The quiet bakery on the hill above Pike Place has a view of the misty Sound beyond. He sits close beside you, carefully keeping his knees away, lest he bump yours and you do the same, perhaps letting them linger a moment each time they collide.
It’s nice here, you notice suddenly, as you take the first sip of your coffee. The smell of dark roast and fresh almond scones. The breeze coming in through the open door. The soothing, distant sound of jazz from the overhead speaker. The pleasant warm lighting, far different than the aggressively bland fluorescent kind he chose for Chen's. Everything puts you at ease, wraps around you the way you wish Jongdae’s arms would.
'This place reminds me of Amsterdam.' You smile, looking down into your cappuccino to avoid Jongdae’s eyes.
‘Have you ever been?’ he asks, voice softer than it normally is.
With a shake of your head you trace the edge of the teal and white ceramic cup in front of you. ‘No, but I’ve seen pictures. I used to love photo books growing up. Atlases and travel guides. It’s always been my favorite section of the library.’
He hums for a moment, considering. 'If you could go anywhere in the world, is that where you'd choose?'
Tucking your hair behind your ears you bite your lip to avoid grinning at him. He’s making you remember long-forgotten parts of yourself. Before school and work became the end point, the be-all end-all that your life was funnelled towards. Back when you imagined exploring every country on the planet. Taking photos and making memories. A long time ago, in the days before you realized how expensive it is to actually be a wanderlust-filled adventurer.
Finally you look at him. Something in his irises makes you swallow; an endless, nameless emotion that lives in him you can never seem to place. Elusive and frustrating and tempting all at once.
‘Yes,’ you admit. Voice dry and heart racing you look back to your coffee in avoidance. ‘It’s my dream to travel there. I’m a bit obsessed with it, really.’
'You? Obsessed?' Jongdae smirks, a boyish grin you want to cover with your own mouth.
You roll your eyes, tracing the handle of your mug. 'Hush. It's such a beautiful city with all the canals and the architecture and history, and the food is to die for. Every quaint European city fantasy in one. What about you, have you done much traveling?'
He shakes his head. ‘Not personally. But - my grandfather went everywhere in Europe, after the war.’ His admission is so quiet you almost miss it. But it’s as if your soul is waiting for every crack in the door to Jongdae you can find, and you don’t pass up the opportunity. ‘What was he like?’
It happens sometimes, when you’re working together. The times there’s no customers around and the mall gets empty and you can’t help but be aware of him. Against your skin and with your hands, eyes feasting on him when the rest of you is forbidden from doing so. In the moments when he isn’t putting on airs of being the tech mogul or the reclusive jerk or the awkward, secretly friendly nerd around Jun or Minseok.
Those times when Jongdae meets your eyes and you see the real him, beneath it all. Wanting and alone and scared. Your breath catches in your throat just as it does now and you long to ask him plainly if he feels the way you do. Being honest with your words and not just your jokes or looks out the corner of your eyes when you catch him watching you too.
But those feel too fragile, too dangerous to utter. So instead you ask him about his family, someone close enough to Jo ngdae’s heart to glimpse the core of him; like a sun during an eclipse you can only look for a moment, lest you get burned.
'My grandfather?’ Brows furrow, the corners of his cat-like lips tilting down for a moment. You nod gently, cupping your drink for something to occupy your hands.
Jongdae looks out at the water for a moment, his mouth tugging to the side as he ponders. ‘You know when you finally solve a puzzle you’ve been working on for ages? Hours of struggling to find the right combination and finally it’s all laid out, perfectly in alignment.’
You nod, trying not to smile and ruin the moment, but softened by him nonetheless. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’
When his gaze lands on your hands he pauses, like he’s wondering if the two of you might fit in a similar way. But it’s gone before you can grasp onto the moment. Sadness colors his features then. Not the aching kind that gnaws away like a feral monster, leaving nothing in its wake, but the beautiful, bittersweet sadness of a love greater than grief.
His voice is thick when he next speaks. ‘My grandfather was that person for me. We just - fit. He understood me better than my parents did. More than any of my classmates or the few people I’ve ever gone out with. We didn’t even need to speak.’ Jongdae pauses and taps his fingers on the counter.
You give in and reach for his hand, not to hold it - not yet. But to cover it with your own for a moment of understanding, of comfort.
He smiles at you, the crease between his brows disappearing for a moment. ‘He was fifty one years older than me and he was my best friend.’
‘I’ll bet you miss him quite a lot?’ You realize how incredibly inadequate the sentiment is and shake your head, moving to withdraw your hand. ‘Sorry - that’s - of course you miss him.’
But Jongdae doesn’t let you retreat. With his free hand he holds yours in place. Warmth floods your body from the connection point and you’re unable to take your eyes off him. ‘It’s alright, I know what you mean.’ He traces your thumb with a barely there motion, seemingly without intending to. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’ You ask, a bit breathless and unable to mind.
‘For always asking. For always listening.’ He says it simply, as though it’s a novel concept. Perhaps, given what you know of his life, who he is, not many people dare to ask. Or bother to listen.
Soon paperwork and customers and regular life draw you back to Chen’s Electronics. He doesn’t mention the way you reached for him and you don’t either. But when you go to leave that afternoon Jongdae holds out your jean jacket for you to slip on. And when you thank him he gives you the soft, secret grin you’ve learned he saves only for you.
On the way home you think that Amsterdam might be the most beautiful city you can imagine, but that it pales in comparison to a hole-in-the-wall cafe in Seattle, as long as Jongdae is seated beside you.
September 9th, 1997
The summer turns into fall and one Monday evening, seemingly without his noticing, Jongdae realizes that his appointment book is full to bursting.
On Tuesday night he's playing Settlers of Catan with Minseok, Bookworm, Kyungsoo, and Junmyeon. They meet up in the food court after the mall closes at nine, second Tuesday of every month.
Wednesday he has lunch with Jun and some other business owners in the mall for their monthly networking/commiserating 'sesh' as Yixing calls it. That afternoon he's promised to help Minseok install the new upgrades to his store's database software that 'make him want to rip out his hair' in exchange for a few coveted LPs Jongdae's had his eyes on for a 70’s/grunge remix set at Shari's.
Thursday night there’s a L.A. Confidential screening at the theater that Baekhyun talked him into, after their argument about whether or not Russel Crowe could actually act or if he was just handsome.
Saturdays are pizza and raucous laughter to break up the busy weekends full of work and clients and deadlines, followed by long nights of DJ-ing and circling you as if you are a sun, drawing him in with the pull of your gravity. He’s merely a comet attracted by the force you give off and he’s not even upset at the realization.
Sehun, Jongin, and Yixing practically bribed him into joining their 'Sunday morning brunch and biceps' workout group, saying that they need a fourth and everyone else is normally sleeping off their hangovers or works the opening shift.
It’s other people’s names all over his schedule, but what he feels is you. Everywhere, all over him. He knows it’s you. Not intentionally, perhaps. But you opened a door for him with your ease and generosity. One Saturday pizza lunch and somehow he’s gotten to know more people in two months at the mall than he had in the years before combined.
You’d wave him off if he mentioned it or thanked you. With that adorable tilt of your head you would smirk and tell him that all he has to do is give people a chance. That they don’t bite.
Irrationally he wants to do things for you - not just as a friend but in the romantic sense - like buy you flowers or have you by his side at Thursday movie screenings or take you to Amsterdam, just to watch you bloom among the flowers. But that would be… crazy, right? He sits in his favorite armchair unable to focus on the book in front of him and runs agitated hands through his hair.
He’s not your boyfriend or your partner. He’s your boss or your co-worker and possibly your friend. Why does he think of holding your hand and walking along the canals of some foreign city every time you look in his direction?
Why does the once-comforting quiet of his apartment feel more and more empty when you’re not laying on the couch across from him, reading and teasing him? Why does he wake up and wish that someone besides himself filled his bed? Someone with your expressions and your joy and your stubborn insistence.
He briefly makes a mental note to ask Yixing how he ended up dating Lavender before suddenly tossing the book to the floor, standing with a groan.
‘What a ridiculous idea!’ he yells aloud to the empty apartment. Jongdae paces circles in the carpet of his living room and wonders if part of being in love is going slightly insane, if everyone who manages to do so finds the madness enjoyable or if love is simply folie à deux?
He looks at his calendar, spread open on his grandfather’s old, wooden desk and tries to comprehend how his life could be so different one year to the next. Like he’s grasping at straws or wisps of air. Aside from work and his grandfather and music, what did he have before? The occasional alumni event or guest lecture at his alma maters?
For a minute his chest feels too full to breathe, unable to let in anything more. Panic tugs at him for a second. It’s too much, all at once - too many people and too many events. Too many opportunities to mess up and these people? He can’t sever his life completely like he did from Julian and his friends. They're so connected to this space he's made his business in. What will happen when he inevitably falls out of favor with them?
He imagines himself shunned and the idea hurts worse than before. Back then he had chosen isolation; to have it thrust unwillingly upon him, unasked, is too much to comprehend.
Once he walked naively into friendship, believing it was easy and that it would last. That there was no rug that would be unceremoniously swept out from under him. But people change, faster than he can believe.
Jongdae sits on the floor, his pajama pants brushing his crossed legs, and forces himself to steady his breathing. These people are not his old friends at Microsoft, he reminds himself. Nor are they the kids in school who teased him, or his classmates in college who resented him or treated him like an annoyance.
Like he’s always practiced, he turns to facts to calm his mind. He’s safe - the apartment is his and he has plenty of money. Not just from his business but from his grandfather’s life insurance. If he wanted to leave - if he was forced to, he thinks he could do it. But something within him howls at the idea of leaving what he has now.
For the first time in ages he has ideas, plans, and dreams for what to do with his life. Now he has people he cares about, people who he trusts to be kind rather than fearing they’ll betray or leave him. You’re at the center of it, if you let him. Determination takes hold of him and doesn’t let go. After a few moments his panic subsides, washed away by the bright promise of a future he’s never dared to imagine before now. Before you.
September 13th, 1997
By the end of your second drink you contemplate being the one to risk it all and ask Jongdae out.
In the months you’ve worked together you stopped seeing him as a challenge and started viewing him instead as the push to your pull. The yang to your yin. The - you sip on your rum and coke and get lost in the tug of his brows and the set of his lips as he spins rather than finding another apt metaphor.
The first time you met him you knew there was something underneath his hard exterior, but you had no idea how correct you’d be proven. Somehow he walks the tightrope between being harsh and being softer than you thought possible. But rather than turn you off you find you’re drawn to his bewildering mix of wry humor, nerdy fixations, and raw emotion. It unlocks all the jagged parts of you that you try to keep so nicely pressed together.
For someone who has been deemed too much to handle finding a man who seems to do it with ease is staggering. He loves your bossy, charismatic nature and your ideas about new things to try at the store. He listens intently when you rattle off obscure facts about your favorite books and movies. He sees your dreams of traveling, of being part of community here, as a complement, not a detriment to your professional career.
A voice startles you. “So when are you going to jump his bones?” Baekhyun is the kind of puppy dog, glowing cheeks, wide-eyed endearing drunk you wish you could hate.
He waggles his brows at you and you snort, shoving him away with your shoulder. “I have zero idea what you’re talking about.”
You weave your way around the perimeter of the dance floor, trying and failing to not fixate on Jongdae with every step.
“Come on. Admit it. You’ve got a thing for the DJ.” His mouth tugs into a smug grin and you groan. “And word on the street is he wants you too.”
“He’s my boss.” The last of your drink burns your throat and you belly up to the bar to order another. “Get real.”
Always a hoe for gossip, Baekhyun leans one elbow against the bar and drops his chin into his hand to watch you. Rather than speak and risk your wrath again he merely looks between you and Jongdae, waiting.
You pride yourself on not giving into temptation for all of ten seconds and then blurt out - “What are you doing?”
Baekhyun presses his lips together to suppress a grin. He raises a finger and holds it up. “You’ll see.”
The bartender is tied up with a group at the far end so you sigh and turn, resting your back against the bar top. With folded arms you observe the club. “We’re about to be abducted by aliens? Jongin’s going to breakdance? Minseok and Bookworm are -”
He clicks his tongue. “So impatient. You two really are a match made in heaven.”
“Me and Jongdae?” If you weren’t already buzzed you’d deny it more. But the permission to speak openly about your feelings for the DJ is too tempting. “You think so?”
Before he can tease you again a motion up ahead catches your focus. Jongdae looks up without tilting his head. His eyes cut to the left, to the two overflowing booths that are filled with the usual crew from the Exodus Mall. With amusement you follow his eye line as he scans the dance floor, looking for something. He never breaks the movement of his hands, spinning the vinyl and working the controls.
Finally his focus lands on you and Baekhyun at the bar. Jongdae’s eyes widen and that unreadable expression settles on his features, no emotion escaping. Your heart picks up, cheeks heating with awareness. There’s nothing to do but hold his gaze for long seconds while the club pulses with life around you. Isolated and together, even across the room.
And then Baekhyun ruins it.
With a comically large wave he smiles at Jongdae. The motion breaks Jongdae’s focus and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head at his friend’s ridiculousness. A smile tugs at his lips and he gives you a look of commiseration and you laugh, reaching over to ruffle Baekhyun’s blonde hair.
The song changes and Jongdae finally looks away. A second later the bartender appears, asking you for your next order. Baekhyun waits patiently beside you, arms folded against the bar, his smugness a tangible thing in the air between you two.
You bite your lip and look at yourself in the mirror behind the bar, visible between the clear shelves of liqueurs and syrups. Could he feel the same way? Does Jongdae imagine holding you, kissing you, being with you the same way you do with him in your unguarded moments?
The two of you already do so much together - work five days a week. Meals alone or with friends. Nights here, separate but still united in the bubble of the dance club. It strikes you just how thin the line is between friends and coworkers and … something more. A four-letter sinful word that starts with L and implies dangerous things like hands touching hands followed by lips and skin and teeth. A different four-letter word full of softness and commitment that has no place being in your mind at the same time as Jongdae’s name.
A hand rests gently on your shoulder. “I told you,” Baek says sincerely. He disappears after waggling his damned eyebrows one more time and leaves you at the bar, wondering.
Half of you wants to confess to him out of genuine affection and desire for connection; you can’t escape the way he makes you long to be reckless and daring and bold and romantic in the kind of grand gesture sense that you’d have rolled your eyes at before you met him. The delicate balance makes your palms sweat and your glass shake slightly as you raise it to your lips. From nerves or excitement or a mix of the two.
You could make the first move, but the logical half of your mind wins out. Instead you swallow your drink in three gulps and head over to the DJ booth to talk to him and nothing more. Close enough to be comforted by his nearness but keeping your desire closeted behind your fear. Tonight that’s all you can manage.
Passing by Yixing and Lavender dancing is a reminder of all the good love can bring. Yixing’s hands holding her close, her arms folded around his neck and their foreheads together. Intimate words are shared that aren’t meant for your ears, even if you could hear them over the sound of the music.
But just beyond is Baekhyun and Hitch. She laughs and dances out of his way as he tries to tickle her. They’re obviously in love to anyone who watches, so why haven’t they admitted it and had a go at being together? Maybe it’s for the best, you wonder. If trying and failing and ruining what you have it worse than never trying at all.
Before you can wander too far down the road of doubt and consequences you remember how it felt to have Jongdae’s hand on top of yours. The thought of tomorrow and the days after disappear altogether when you feel Jongdae’s eyes on you once more, drawing you closer to him, whether he knows his effect on you or not. When you reach the booth you decide to stop thinking in general, and let yourself feel instead.
Saturday night and he's in his element. In the booth, far away from the rest of the crowd but still a part of it. Adrenaline in his veins. Music is Jongdae’s therapy. An alter ego much like the comic book characters he read about growing up. It's the skin he can put on when he's tired of being himself. A place where he can set down the baggage of his identity for a night and get lost in the beats.
He closes his eyes, savoring the pattern of the vinyl beneath his fingertips.
Suddenly, he feels you. Of course you're here. He's never free from you, he thinks with a rueful smile. First you invaded this place, his escape and his temple. Then you wormed your way into his business as though you always belonged there. Now you're occupying his senses the way you occupy his thoughts at all hours.
For a beat he admires you, standing at the bar rolling your eyes while Baekhyun waves dramatically. He drinks you in with a last look at your fabulous legs before reluctantly turning back to switching out one album for the next. Lately you’ve taken to joining him for a bit while he spins and he hopes that once again you’ll come up to the booth tonight.
He's not a patient man, or a subtle one. If he wanted to be rid of you, you'd be gone. Severed with the kind of brutal finality he showed to anyone from his time after M.I.T. There are no second chances as far as he's concerned. But still, you remain. Infuriating, exhilarating. Never far from his consciousness.
'You look like you're having a good time!'
Sooner than expected your voice breaks his trance and he lifts his eyes to look at you. His heart thumps painfully in his chest and he swallows harshly. He doesn't know how you do it - how you effortlessly change to match your surroundings.
One minute you're his office manager, polite and respectful and skilled. Already he sees the business taking shape, becoming more cohesive and smooth beneath your talented mind and heart. And your feisty insistence that he upgrade and finesse his marketing and finally finish putting together a website for Chen’s.
The next minute you're leaning over the edge of the booth, chest coming forward and revealing your neckline. The red is fitting on you. It brings out the natural flush in your cheeks and makes you look perpetually alive. He feels stagnant by comparison, a man of stone who remains unchanging while the world passes him by.
The tumble of hair across your shoulders and the delight in your eyes are so beautiful he wants to reach for you. To reach for more, be more than who he has been - afraid and alone. Bitterness lives in his heart, swatting away anyone who gets too close. But here you are, knocking once more on the door of his being.
He finds his voice, his hands thankfully moving on muscle memory as he drops in the next remix. 'It's good energy tonight,' he fumbles. 'I love this song.' You nod in agreement.
It’s easy, being with you. Together you talk about work and the music he plays and your group of friends. Chanyeol and Bijoux, who finally got together again after what seems like months of back and forth. Bets on how long Minseok will wait before he proposes to Bookworm, now that they’re an official item. Joking about Baekhyun and Hitch like always.
He shows off for you, just a little. Spins 'Scream' by Michael and Janet jackson with a bit more pizazz than usual. It strikes him as amusing how much he always hated being watched before this. Not that many people pay particular attention to him as a DJ, but he thinks he might like the way it feels to be watched by you.
He wants to watch you, too, for as long as you let him. He already can’t take his eyes off you. No matter how much that idea might terrify him. When he drops the next mix and the crowd cheers at ‘Tubthumping’ he gives you a rare broad smile and it's like being punched in the chest when you return it with an unexpectedly shy one of your own.
Jongdae almost invites you into the booth. He sees it as though it were one of the romantic comedies that are so popular right now. You would take your place in front of him. He'd get to rest his hand on top of yours, guiding your movements. Maybe as you got the hang of it he would slide them to hold your hips, keeping your back to his chest as his mouth finds your neck.
Liz invites you to dance and Jongdae wipes the probably awed look off his face with effort. He needs some cold water, immediately.
Friday September 19th
Jongdae is upset about something. It’s not so much that you now seem to be able to pick up his moods with ease, which is true, but the fact that he is nearly tearing his hair out. A piece of paper sits in front of him on the desk but it’s too far away for you to read.
By the time he groans for the fifth time you finally speak up. ‘Are you alright?’
His head jerks up and his eyes are tired when they meet yours. Not ‘it’s been a long week’ tired, but something sad in his expression that makes him look fragile and younger than his years.
For a moment he shakes his head. Then he picks up the paper and waves it in the air, opening and closing his mouth in rapid succession. The confusion on his normally self-assured face would be comical if it wasn’t such an obviously distressing situation. Finally he drops the paper and leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand along his jaw.
‘I just got word that they’re demolishing the apartment building I live in. I have to move by November 1st.’
Instantly you want to hug him or hold his hand. ‘Your grandfather’s apartment?’
Jongdae nods. ‘They’re tearing it down so they can put in some luxury condos. Yet another classic neighborhood about to be wiped out in the name of progress.’ He sighs, looking at the ceiling to compose himself. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so-’
‘No, it’s -’ you start, unsure of your destination. ‘It’s an important place. And it’s your home. Don’t apologize for being pissed off about it.’
He nods, taken aback. ‘Exactly. It’s where I grew up. I’ve also never had to look for an apartment or move, either. So this will be dreadful.’
You bite the inside of your cheek. The offer to help practically leaps from your mouth and you hold it close for a moment, making sure you don’t rush into something that’s out of your depth. But as always your logic overrules your fear.
‘I could help, if you like?’ He’s just your boss slash co-worker. It’s innocent. It’s harmless, right? ‘I’ve moved so often with school and everything. I know my way around the city.’
In the ensuing pause Jongdae’s solemnity returns, his mouth and the lines of his face don’t give away any emotion. But, as always, he holds you in place with his expression. And his eyes have that fire within that he seems to only show to you. ‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’
You nod, case closed. Turning back to your computer you lie to yourself further, pretending not to notice how his voice lowered. As though he knew you weren’t just offering for help with his living situation. But something more raw and painful that he isn’t prepared to hold on his own just yet.
For how picky you thought you were about apartments, Jongdae has you beat by a mile. Student housing accustomed you to wonky flooring and cramped kitchens and the charming yet ancient windows on many older Seattle homes. But his grandfather’s gorgeous pre-war unit had made Jongdae’s tastes quite particular.
On Tuesdays and on weekends you pulled up listings and showed Jongdae around the city by way of it’s apartments, condos, and houses. He enjoyed the nature surrounding Greenlake, the affordable houses north of UW in Ravenna, and the vibe of Ballard and Fremont. But he ruled anything north of 520 out quickly as ‘too far from the store.’ The luxury of walking to work on nicer days was something he wasn’t willing to part with.
The same unfortunately ruled out a townhouse in Alki that you had salivated over, a block from the beach. Pioneer Square had some great lofts that would have been perfect for a music-lover like Jongdae, but he vetoed those as well. Along with all the trendy industrial lofts near the stadiums, claiming he hated all the construction going on nearby.
It should have been frustrating, to spend endless hours watching him nix perfectly wonderful places. In Queen Anne he hated the hills. Westlake he disliked the mall. Madrona, Leschi, Montlake, Magnolia, and Lake Union all came close but still he shook his head and said ‘thanks, but no thanks’ to landlord after landlord.
It should have driven you mad, but all it did was make you like him more.
Falling in love with Jongdae isn’t what you had planned. But from the first night you saw him at the club some part of you knew it was inevitable, the way the rain in autumn starts off as a light drizzle and before you know it becomes a torrential downpour, blanketing the city and saturating every exposed corner.
He always brought you coffee and insisted on buying breakfast or lunch. He always picked you up, right on time. Held doors and made sure he didn’t walk too fast and did the thing where his arm hovered over your back when the two of you were in crowded spaces. Not touching, but close enough you could feel him protecting you. On anyone else you would have absolutely hated that, but of course from him, you craved it.
Day after day you listened to music in his car as the two of you drove around little neighborhoods hoping to find something, complaining about how tight and ridiculous the parking situation always is. Joking about your friends or the news or the latest books you’re reading. They hardly felt like dates. No, they felt like something even more insidious. Like being in a relationship with him. Easy and warm and friendly and the kind of thing you could get used to.
But eventually it had to end, before it seemed like either of you were ready.
On a surprisingly warm Tuesday in October the two of you walk into a place that no one could object to. The building is in south Capitol Hill, close to Cal Anderson and only a fifteen or twenty minute walk from the mall. It’s designed in the classic Victorian style of the neighborhood, but was completed just three years ago. Small pane windows and a fireplace with a carved mantle and dark spires on the roof, all with brand new insulation and appliances.
Sunlight floods the corner unit on the top floor and you gasped as soon as the door opened. Jongdae stands beside you as the landlord goes over the details of the square footage and the building amenities, but neither of you are listening anymore.
‘What do you think?’ he asks softly. The five-story building sits on a slight hill and overlooks the rest of downtown, with a partial water view around the tall downtown skyscrapers.
‘I think it’s as close to perfect as you’re going to get.’
He moves closer and rests his palms on the window sill, looking around for a moment before turning his head to watch you. ‘Good.’
After a long pause Jongdae pushes off the windows and politely interrupts the landlord, who is currently opening every single cabinet in the kitchen and giving a detailed run down of his wife’s favorite tupperware, asking about the deposit. The way he phrased it along with the attentive way he waited for your approval makes you wonder if he wasn’t just picking this apartment for himself.
Imagining yourself there scares you. If he was seeking your opinion… surely he would be hoping you’d come over? Neither of you have spoken a word about the bizarre yet undeniable attraction you have, but that hardly forms the basis of a relationship. A boyfriend who wanted to be sure you liked his new place would be one thing, but your friend and co-worker who has never admitted to even liking you is quite another.
You lean against the edge of the window and run a finger along the ledge. A small part of you whispers that you’re supposed to be doing something else, eventually. You won’t work at Chen’s forever, but it wasn’t meant to be this hard to leave. It’s just a stop on the way to your final destination. So why do you want to get off the train altogether and make a home here?
Would it be so terrible, to be with him? It’s been a fantasy for so long that imagining real life with him makes you suck in a breath as though you’ve been punched in the gut. It could be a fresh start for you both. The end of one adventure and the beginning of a new one. You remind yourself that being in love doesn’t mean you can’t travel or change the world. Being with Jongdae would hopefully only encourage your dreams, not stifle them.
As they discuss deposit and applications and timelines for moving into the apartment you wander into the other rooms.
The bathroom has a large tub and dual sinks. You can only imagine what your expression must be like right now, given your swirling emotions, and avoid the mirror altogether. The second bedroom is more like a cozy office, narrow enough for a desk and a couch and perhaps some bookshelves. In the bedroom you hesitate at the doorway, reaching up to play with the pendant of your necklace.
Windows run along both sides, meeting in a corner. You think of plants lining the wide ledges and going to sleep with the setting westward sun and how short of a walk it would be to get breakfast from your favorite bagel shop that’s just a block away. It’s close to the mall and the club. It’s truly perfect.
As you watch cars pass and people walk by down below you space out, the image blurring and becoming Jongdae on a bed in this room, leaning back against the pillows with a book in his lap. Smiling at you and pulling you close since he knows you refuse to get up earlier than you have to on your days off.
Inexplicably you want to cry and you huff out a laugh, squeezing your eyes tightly only to find that they’re damp. It’s not anger that the vision inspires in you or even sadness. It’s frustration and amusement that war inside you as you think about how you fell in love with him without your consent. Rational thinking should have stopped this long ago, but all you can think as you stand there is how nice it is to be with him. And how you wouldn’t mind being with him for a long while.
The only thing that helps ease the tension in your chest is how he looks at you on the drive back to your place. You fill the time with discussions of moving trucks and hiring a company to help with the heavy lifting, but you’re both clearly distracted by other thoughts. He pulls his car up to your apartment and you try to avoid looking at him as you say goodbye, but he briefly rests his hand on your knee to get your attention.
Your hand stops in its motion to grab your bag and ends up nearly on top of his, but you make no movement to break the contact. ‘Thank you,’ he says softly. ‘I mean it.’ Jongdae turns his hand and holds yours, giving it a quick squeeze and looking like he never wants to let go.
October 12th, 1997
You’re eating cheesy bread at Barada with Hitch, but today she’s different - evasive and nervous in a strange way. 'So I - uhh. I have news,' she finally says. She sips her drink and looks at the table rather than at you. 'I don't know if I should tell you though.'
Pausing in your chewing you raise a brow. 'You can tell me anything, you know that.'
She awkwardly runs a hand along her neck. 'No I know. I just -' she huffs out a breath and blows her hair off her forehead..
'You and Baekhyun finally had sex and you're pregnant?' You smirk at her as she chokes on her soda. 'Come on, just spit it out.'
She waves and hand and very quickly says - 'There's a project manager position open in the gaming division. Some new big thing and they're looking for an upstart to head up operations.'
You frown and tear off another slide of bread, not understanding her odd behavior at all. 'Okay… and you're thinking what, thinking of applying?'
'No, you dork. I'm thinking you should apply.' She tilts her head like she assumed your reaction would be more immediate. 'You wanted me to keep an eye out for you, right? I didn't want to say anything since - '
'Since?' you ask, both afraid of what she'll say and dying to know. Terrified it will have to do with Jongdae and the swirling mess of feelings you have for him.
It’s her turn to be wry. 'Since you and Jongdae have been attached at the hip.'
'Really?' You stall, taking an enormous bite.
Hitch tosses a balled-up napkin at you. 'Yes. When I met you in college I thought 'there goes the most intense person I've ever met.’ And then I met Jongdae after he opened Chen’s and he gave you a run for your money.' She dusts off her hands. 'You both could be making millions someday. Taking over countries or saving the world or something. We all know it. I don't know, I didn’t want to mention this because together you guys seem happier. Softer? Something like that..'
'And you think me getting a job there would ruin that?' Her words mirror your fears exactly and your stomach drops.
'It's taken me years to get Jongdae to even look at me after I told him where I worked. He hates Microsoft. With good reason, from what you've implied. I'm sure you could make it work, but trust me when I say if you get swept up into that upper management spiral, we probably won't see you again.'
'I won't completely abandon you guys just because I get a new job.' But doubt whispers in your mind. The long hours and the endless meetings and the extra work to always be the best, to always be ahead. 'Okay fine, I see your point. I still have to try, right? I should at least apply.'
She rests her hand over yours where you have your napkin in a death grip on the table. 'You don't have to do anything, babe. We'll always be here for you even if you become a tech mogul overnight. But will it make you happy? Whatever comes next... do it for yourself, okay? Not just cause you think you should.'
You smile and hold her hand for a moment, wrinkling your nose. 'Thank you, Hitch. I needed that. What about you? You said you were going to apply for that transfer to the NYC office, are you still considering it?'
She blows out a deep breath and pulls her hand back, dropping her forehead to it for a moment. 'God, I don't know. My whole life is here. And I'd have to leave the theater.' She rests her chin on her palm and looks up at you with a dramatic frown. 'My friends are all here. My family. I love where I'm at, but I know that something eventually has to change.'
'Baekhyun?' You grin at her, wondering if the move might finally force them to admit their feelings.
Hitch straightens and looks across the food court to the movie theater. 'Yeah, something like that.' She gives you a dramatic waggle of her brow. 'Jongdae?'
You groan and fold your arms, sinking lower into your seat. Even your roommates ask about him now. Everyone can surely see how you light up around him. The way you gravitate towards the DJ booth on club nights like a moth to a flame. The way you draw him into conversations and brag about him. It should be forbidden territory, as untouchable and unreadable as he is. Not to mention he's your boss.
But worst of all he still hasn't said anything about it, nothing more than the occasional flirtatious comment or lingering look. Even after all your time together and the way he looked at you in the new apartment. For all you know he sees you as a very stubborn employee who happens to force your way into things.
You cover your face with your hands and sigh. 'Something like that.'
Hitchcock stands and takes your shared tray of dishes to the bus station with a throaty laugh. 'That's what I thought.'
November 1st, 1997
Jongdae is frantically packing up more of his bookshelf when the doorbell rings. He smiles on instinct. It's not something he can help anymore, not when he knows it's you on the other side. Right at nine in the morning, just when you promised the movers would be here. With a last look around his living room at the organized chaos he wipes his hands on his sweatpants and stands.
It surprised him how quickly you agreed to help with - well, everything, really.
When he told you about his move he didn’t expect anything would come of it. It's his problem, not yours. He didn't imagine for a moment you'd give the announcement more attention than a sympathetic word or two. But you stepped to his side. Put up with his grouchy persistence in believing that there's no place in the world, let alone in Seattle, that would be as amazing as this apartment. As it always seems with you, he found himself proven wrong.
You didn't let him wallow and guided him with your decisiveness through the checklist of everything he'd need to do. A few months ago he would have waved you off. Decided you were being bossy or nosy and turned down the help with a cold shoulder.
But now he wants you around for everything and the thought makes him pause with his hand on the doorknob.
He made sure you like his new apartment too because - when he isn't expecting it he imagines you there. Not just as his co-worker or employee or even as his friend. As someone more permanent. Lasting. It's not that he needs you to run his life for him, he's perfectly capable of doing things on his own. It's just that he loves how you barge your way into his world and refuse to let him be alone.
Jongdae doesn't know how yet, but he wants to show you how he feels in return. It's like trying to run with a blindfold on, but he desperately hopes that he can figure out how to care about you in the way you deserve. Bringing you coffee and asking about your day and giving you all the freedom you want at work are a start, but they barely scratch the surface of how much he feels for you.
He's got one idea. A big one. An insane one, that you'll probably call him nuts for suggesting. If he ever gets up the nerve someday.
The buzzer sounds again and he shakes himself out of it. Finally he pulls it open and is greeted by your smiling face in the morning gray light. Hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in a long black shirt and faded overalls. He leans against the doorframe, wondering if he's ever seen anything more beautiful than you on his doorstep.
'So, I have a surprise,' you start. With a free hand you nervously brush your hair behind your ear. It's so unlike you that he immediately wonders if something is wrong.
'What is it?'
Before you can answer, noise in the parking lot draws his focus. His front door faces the open-air walkway that leads to the stairs down to the parking lot. He expected a moving truck and several buff men in logoed shirts. Instead it's a scrappy group of your friends - his friends now, he supposes - looking tired but ready to help.
Junmyeon and Jane drink coffee and pull furniture dollys and heavy blankets out of a Uhaul truck. Liz and Jongin are leaning against the cab of Sehun's car and laugh at him as he and Yixing sleep peacefully in the backseat. Chanyeol and his girlfriend are paused on the landing below making out, a tape gun in each of their hands. Another car catches a break in the flow of traffic and pulls into one of the guest spaces. Minseok and Bookworm step out and yawn, tying sweatshirts around their waists.
Jongdae repeats his question. Or at least he tries to, but emotion catches his throat and all he can do is stare at you with a mix of surprise and what he's sure is a very naked expression of affection.
'How did you do this?' he asks when he can finally breathe again.
You tilt your head and grin at him, pride making you radiant even in the dull mist of the morning. 'Is this okay?' For a moment you look worried, tucking your hands in the pockets of your overalls and taking a step back.
'I know I said I'd hire the movers, but I thought this might be better? I didn't think everyone would be here, especially after the Halloween party last night. Soo and Sunshine are working, but I think - wait,' you turn and yell down to the group in the lot. 'Has anyone heard from Baek and Hitch?'
Chanyeol reluctantly pulls away from his girlfriend and replies. 'Yeah, he messaged me at the ass-crack of dawn. He said he and Hitch are fine, but they won't be able to make it until later.'
With a curious look you thank Chanyeol and turn back to Jongdae. 'Okay, so almost everyone came.'
'It's because you're incredible,' he agrees, heart warm and in awe of you. Stepping back, he shoves the door stop in with his foot to prop it open and gestures for you to come in.
He doesn't get two steps before your hand finds his bicep, stopping him. 'No, I'm just absolutely amazing at organizing things,' you laugh. ‘But they didn't just come for me Jongdae, they came because they're your friends. They wanted to help.'
The intensity in your voice makes him pause. Like you're trying to say far more than your words. He gets lost for a moment in your beautiful eyes and swallows harshly. His past, the negative parts, haven't come up much - his failed first business, the trail of broken friendships he's left behind him, the ensuing guard he's had up since - but you've paid far more attention than he realized.
He doesn't miss the meaning behind your words, or the look in your eyes; what you're asking of him. To trust you, to trust them. To release his death grip on the walls he keeps up to protect himself. But no matter how determined you are he knows he has to be the one to dismantle them. His heart is nervous and he instead focuses on your hand on his arm.
For a beat he wants to kiss you, then and there with almost all of his and your friends just outside. Instead he lets his actions speak when his mouth isn't able to and pulls you into a hug. You freeze for a moment, stiff with surprise. But after a moment it melts away and you hold him back, wrapping your arms around his waist. His head spins when you rest your forehead against his shoulder, unable to process the fact that you’re in his arms in reality, not just his dreams.
'You're the most amazing person,' he murmurs against your hair.
The sound of loud voices and thumping of boots on stairs make him pull back. You give him another smile, warmer and softer this time. Something that's private for him only. 'I know.'
He barks out a laugh as Sehun and Jongin come in through the doorway. 'Let's do this!' Sehun calls, clapping his hands together.
'We promise we won't steal anything,' Jongin jokes, looking around Jongdae's place with obvious fascination.
Bijoux organizes the packing party while Chanyeol grabs Jongdae's keys so he and Sehun can take the first load of boxes over to the new place while Junmyeon, Jongin, and Jongdae load up the bigger furniture pieces into the Uhaul. Jongdae lets out a rusty laugh as Junmyeon dubs them ‘the J squad.’ You work around them, collecting all the random trinkets and knicknacks that have escaped other boxes.
He closed Chen’s today to hopefully knock this entire project out in one swoop. Ripping it off like a Bandaid. After the first big load everyone splits up into teams. Sehun and Yixing pack and load the rest of the boxes and smaller items into the cars. Jongin, who is absolutely not trusted around breakable items, goes with Junmyeon to return the Uhaul to the rental shop and pick up lunch and drinks for everyone with the cash Jongdae insisted they take.
And Minseok leads everyone else on a cleaning checklist he’s created with military precision. It's been so long Jongdae doesn't even know if he has a damage deposit. His grandfather took excellent care of the place and he kept it up in his absence, so he hopes it's not too much work to tidy.
Yixing’s boombox keeps up a steady flow of music throughout the morning and lunch time. With everyone’s help, and of course with the added fuel from the pizza and beverages, things are just wrapping up at the old place. You stay behind with Jongdae to take a last look around and turn in the keys, forcing him to take a few photos in the space to remember it.
‘This is it, I guess,’ he says, holding out the key and laying it on the kitchen counter with a small metallic sound.
‘How do you feel?’ You lean your hip against the fridge and drink from a water bottle.
Sunset over Lake Union is his favorite time of day and it’s hard to stand the thought of missing out on a last one. It’s barely two in the afternoon and it’s hours until golden hour. Rather than lie he simply says the truth. ‘I wish I could see the sun go down one last time.’
You come and stand next to him, close enough he can smell the light scent of your perfume and see the flush of your chest from the day’s exertion. ‘We can wait.’
He thinks of everyone at his new place, unloading boxes. ‘But everyone-’
‘Jongdae,’ you start. ‘They’ll be fine. You know Sehun has probably fallen asleep on your couch already. Baek and Hitch and the openers from Barada will be heading over soon. Some people have to head out for closing shifts but it’s already been decided that we’re doing movie night and Chinese take out tonight at your new place.’
‘Oh really?’ He presses his lips together to try not to laugh.
‘I don’t think you have much of a choice,’ you tease. ‘Trust me, they’ll be fine for another few hours.’
‘Alright then,’ he says after a pause.
The two of you sit on the bare hardwood floors and talk until the sun finally sets, just before five pm. He doesn’t yell his feelings for you at full volume like he wishes he could. He doesn’t dance with you or kiss you slowly in the empty apartment, there’s far too many emotions in his heart today to try and cope with more. But after he locks up and leaves the keys behind he does take your hand to help you into the car. And he does hold it for far longer than necessary before pulling back to shut the door.
It’s not much, but like his new apartment it’s the start of something.
November 3rd, 1997
You’ve got to tell Jongdae now, but nerves eat away at you and your resolve lessens minute by minute. Since the move he’s been warmer, more open, and you don’t want to ruin that. But you can’t keep this from him any longer.
Applying at Microsoft was supposed to be a long shot, a shot in the dark, or some other kind of shot that never meant to lead anywhere. But still it’s one you took and one that ended up paying off way faster and more successfully than you’d planned. After two interviews last week you sit with a job offer on your answering machine back home and a choice to make.
They need your decision by tomorrow and as Monday winds into early afternoon your deadline approaches. You bite your lip and vacillate wildly between thoughts. On the one hand this could be a good thing - if you’re no longer working at the same place, there’s nothing stopping the two of you from being together, right?
But what if Jongdae can’t see past his hurt and freaks out, assuming you’re leaving him like everyone else has? Or worse, what if he never cared about you that way at all?
Your stomach drops at the thought of walking out of here into your dream job, but feeling empty, leaving behind someone who has come to mean so much to you.
Your roommates Liz and Jane, Hitch, hell even Baekhyun weaseled the truth out of you at Shari’s on Saturday. Stone cold sober and still you let out everything to him sitting in your group’s favorite booth. About how you might in fact love Jongdae and how badly you want this opportunity, how utterly terrifying and exhilarating change can be simultaneously.
None of them told you to choose one way or the other. They didn’t say ‘take the job’ or ‘turn down the job,’ they all said that the decision is one only you can make and that they’d support you no matter what you picked. And maybe each time you cried a little and all of them were good enough friends to just hug you and not mention it.
But all of them told you one thing that now sits lodged in your throat. Whatever else happens, you both deserve to know. Jongdae deserves the truth about what you’re considering, and you deserve to finally know once and for all how he feels about you and what he wants.
After he locks the doors and starts cleaning up, you rise, holding your hands behind your back so tightly your knuckles are most assuredly white. ‘Hey, can we talk for a minute?’
Jongdae nods. ‘Of course. I’ve got something I wanted to discuss with you as well, actually. But you go first.’ He folds his arms and leans against his desk, giving you that affectionate close-lipped smile of his. You desperately hope what you’re about to say doesn’t wipe it off his face.
Not one to beat around the bush you dive in. ‘I applied for another job.’ The words sound blunt and harsh. You swallow and try again, hating how his brow furrows in confusion. ‘Not because I don’t like it here. But Hitch told me about an opening and it sounded - sounds perfect for what I want to do in the long run. It’s on the new gaming system division… at Microsoft.’
He doesn’t say anything for a long pause. Instead of meeting your eyes his have dropped to the ground and you wish you could reach out and touch him. Anything to make sure he hears you, understands you. But a whisper of fear makes you keep quiet, worrying the connection you had wasn’t meant to last, if something so trivial could break it.
‘I thought you were happy here,’ he says finally.
You hold your hands out in front of you, palms up in a gesture of entreaty. ‘I do, Jongdae. It’s not that at all. I thought this might - be good for us. If we’re not working together, then -’
When he finally looks up his gaze is distant, his mouth a thin line. The shutters have fallen over his face. ‘By going to work at the one place I despise?’
Anger makes your skin hot and you fold your arms as well, in defiance. ‘But you talk to Hitch and Baekhyun? They haven’t turned into the devil incarnate yet.’
He gives a quick, harsh shrug. ‘I like them both, sure. But being friends is one thing. This is quite another.’
It’s almost a declaration, yet so far from how you dreamed this moment might go. ‘What are you saying, Jongdae?’ You need to hear it. After so many weeks of trying you need him to at least do you the courtesy of speaking it out loud.
‘You know how I feel about you.’ There’s hope in his eyes. But it’s so buried amongst hurt and suspicion it’s not even close to reassuring. ‘I want you to stay. Here.’ With me, he doesn’t say, but you feel it.
Nothing drives you more up the wall than being told what to do. His words fall against your own shield and the plea within goes unnoticed. ‘Would you really shut me off if I took this job? Does hating them mean more than wanting what’s best for me?’ You finally step forward, reaching a hand for his arm.
‘I’ve supported you in everything,’ you start, unable to stop now that you’ve started. ‘In finding community here. In your move. Even in the business, who was the one who pushed you to keep growing? I don’t intend to stop being there for you, but I need you to support me in this. Please.’
He just watches you, not saying a word. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence. People outside the glass doors go about their day, shopping or getting an early dinner, unaware of the standoff taking place merely feet from them. You wonder what it would take to make his guard truly ever come down.
With how quickly it snapped back into place you feel tired all the way down to your bones. Maybe it will never be enough, even if you did stay here forever.
‘I’ll pay out your PTO in these next two weeks,’ he says softly. ‘No need to come back into the office. If that works for you?’ His last statement is thrown on as a hasty addendum. Like he’d realized how harsh it sounded and he wanted to dull the sting. It’s a sliver of kindness, a glimpse at the man he almost allowed himself to be. But it’s not enough.
‘Fine with me.’ You move past him, into the supply room to grab your purse and jacket, proud of the way your voice doesn’t waver. Pausing in the hallway you turn to look back at him, still frozen against his desk. ‘I’m leaving this job, I’m not leaving you.’
He turns to look at you, running a hand through his hair and messing up the ends. ‘It will go the same way, I know it. In the end you’ll disappear too.’
‘Jongdae, I’m trying. I need you to at least meet me halfway.’
You don’t wait for his reply, if one was ever even going to come. Instead you continue down the small hallway and push out the back door into the mall. It’s only once you’re in your car that you remember he mentioned something he wanted to discuss. You wonder what it was, and if you’ll ever find out.
Jongdae stares after you for long seconds after you’re gone. He doesn’t hold out hope that you’ll come back, not after the way he treated you. Instead he feels stuck in place, like if he holds his breath and doesn’t exhale then the last five minutes didn’t happen.
But his lungs burn and his chest aches, and when he finally sighs it comes out ragged. He fumbles for the switch and the store descends into darkness. Shafts of light still come through, angled in from the glass ceiling of the mall’s concourse. Jongdae stands just outside of it, protected. With no one to see he sinks into his desk chair and drops his head into his hands.
The tears that clog his throat are at first unexpected, but as the minutes drag on he finally gives into them. He should have known they were coming all along. Not just from the moment you walked into his life, but from the day his grandfather died. From the day his father passed and his mother became a ghost rather than a permanent, tangible figure.
From the day Julian took Jongdae’s designs and credited them as his own to the investors, cutting Jongdae out of not only the business they were building, but out of their group of friends as well.
Misery and hopelessness whisper against his skin and for long minutes he lets himself wallow. He knows it’s no one’s fault but his own that he ruined things with you. His grandfather taught him long ago that other’s actions are theirs, and that it’s what Jongdae does in response that is his responsibility. But he can’t deny that he indulges in thoughts of blaming the cruelty of life for making him so goddamn stubborn.
He swallows and leans back in his chair, feeling as though his body is made of hard, unyielding stone. Maybe it's better this way, he wonders, drumming his fingers on the wood desk before him. Perhaps he should let his worst fears dominate his life, believing that the risk is far greater than any potential reward that love or friendship could offer him.
Is it better to be alone, knowing that he’ll always be safe, free of anyone who might hurt him?
Jongdae groans. The voice inside him that whispers No sounds first like his grandfather, both encouraging and feisty at the thought of Jongdae giving up. Next it sounds like you. He knows you’d roll your eyes and call him grouchy, always thinking better of him than he does of himself. You’d tell him his bark is far worse than his bite and to get over himself already. At this thought, at any thought of you, really, he smiles.
Familiar voices make him look out into the mall. Sehun and Jongin walk by carrying sodas, rubbing their stomachs. He can imagine how they’re complaining about eating too much Barada pizza, as always.
They pass by quickly but the image stays with him, of their friendship. Jongdae thinks of Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s, how opposite and yet how similar they are. Baekhyun and Hitch, who are always teasing each other but who he knows would do anything at the drop of a hat.
He’s held himself back the past few months. First a reluctant observer. Then a tentative participant. The endless exhaustion of being careful, keeping his distance, catches up to Jongdae as he sits in that chair. If it weren’t for you maybe he’d never be brave enough to try again after how hard it was growing up. But if he is to be the kind of person, the kind of partner you deserve, now is the time to make the attempt.
It’s up to Jongdae to be the one to try, to reach out. He can’t let others find him anymore. For the first time in a long time Jongdae stands up and goes looking for a friend.
Junmyeon still has an hour before his store closes and he looks up at Jongdae as he walks in through the door of Guardians. ‘Hey, JD! How’s it going?’ If he notices that Jongdae’s been crying, he’s kind enough to not mention it.
‘Are you busy?’ Jongdae’s throat is raw but Jun has a young son, surely tears won’t bother him.
‘Not really, I’m just organizing some shipments going out tomorrow,’ Junmyeon answers. He sets down his pencil and rests his hands on the counter. A crease forms between his brows the longer he watches Jongdae. ‘Is everything alright?’
He wants to do this right, but all he can find are inelegant words. Junmyeon is as close as he has to a best friend at the moment, and he hopes he doesn’t inconvenience him. ‘Not really.’
Jun tilts his head and gestures to the door, picking up Jongdae’s unspoken request and running with it, just like he’d hoped he would. ‘I can close up shop a bit early. Want to talk in my office?’
Jongdae runs a hand over his face and nods. Grateful and relieved he manages a small laugh. ‘That would be great, thanks.’
After Jun locks the doors and flips the sign to closed he motions for Jongdae to follow him. The back room of Guardians is much warmer that at Chen’s Electronics, in style rather than temperature. Jongdae sits on a beige sofa that’s even more comfortable than it looks. The walls are filled with framed photos and art prints and various other pieces that give the space an art gallery vibe.
With a sigh Junmyeon tidies up the mess of papers and crayons and various cups with kid lids. ‘Sorry, Sungmin loves to draw but we haven’t quite nailed the clean up yet.’
‘Don’t worry about it on my behalf,’ Jongdae says sincerely. ‘I’m just grateful you’re willing to listen.’
The space has a narrow hallway leading to a back door and a closet that’s probably full of supplies, much like Jongdae’s store. Jun takes the cups to a small sink in the mini-kitchen in the corner. His brow lifts in confusion. ‘Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends, right?’
Could it be that simple? No need to prove himself or do everything possible to impress Junmyeon, like he did with Julian. ‘Yeah, we are I suppose.’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to imply I don’t consider us friends, I just - well, have a few trust issues when it comes to that sort of thing.’
Junmyeon dries his hands on a dishtowel and blows his hair off his forehead with a huffed laugh. ‘We’ve all got a few issues, don’t we?’ He moves to the table and takes a seat, sliding a glass of water towards Jongdae and sipping from one of his own. ‘I’ve got the time. So quit stalling and tell me about yours.’
He sags into the couch and drinks from the glass. ‘Alright then.’
For once he doesn’t second guess himself or try to read the minutiae of Jun’s expressions to see if he’s annoying him or being too boring. Jongdae simply tells him the truth, trusting his friend to listen.
He mentions his family and how hard it hit him when his grandfather passed. How strange and yet unbothered he is by the lack of relationship with his mother. The way he was teased growing up and how he was probably the only person in his Master’s program going through puberty. The fact that the mall is the first place he’s ever had friends his own age since childhood.
It’s satisfying to see how pissed off Jun gets when he tells him about Julian and all the bullshit he put Jongdae through. For a while there Jongdae had convinced himself that he was the one in the wrong, that there’d been something he’d done to earn his exile. That it was a deserved punishment. But his friend’s muttered curses remind him that true friends don’t normally backstab each other for money and notoriety.
And finally, he talks of you.
How much he values you at work and how sassy and insistent you were about bringing him into ‘the fold’ of their friend group. The ways in which he wants to be with you and care for you and all his worries of whether or not he’ll be any good at it, given his lack of experience. Junmyeon is neither surprised by his feelings for you nor willing to let him wallow.
‘I even brought prom tickets,’ Jongdae finishes with a groan. He pulls them from the pocket of his jeans and lets his arm fall to the couch cushion. ‘Me. At a prom.’ He almost snorts.
But Junmyeon just purses his lips. ‘Is that really such a stretch?’
Jongdae hums a noise of contemplation. ‘No. I guess not. All our friends are doing it.’ But before Jun can continue he shakes his head. ‘But I’ve messed this all up, so it doesn’t matter either way.’
Loneliness aches in his bones, his hands tired of not holding yours. Wishing he was enough, somehow, to keep you here and keep you warm; enough to make you stay, to make you happy.
Junmyeon raises a brow. ‘I think you’re missing the point entirely my friend. She told you what she needs. All you have to do is listen. She’s asking you to trust her. This job is something she’s worked for and she’s not leaving you for it. She’s just leaving the job. If you want to know you have to ask.’
He sighs deeply. ‘You’re right. But what if it all goes wrong? What if I try and it’s all for nothing in the end?’
Jun dips his chin to his chest, looking at the ground lost in thought. ‘That’s fair. I know a little of that myself, Jongdae. But all you can do is try. There’s sadly no guarantees here. I think you want to make it work and from what I know of her, she wants you as well. It’s time to make the big gesture. Or any kind of gesture, really.’
He groans and smiles, knowing his friend’s fondness for ‘I think you’re right.’ He even has an idea, two in fact. One that’s lived in the back of his mind for weeks and one that’s brewing right now. ‘Will you help me?’
‘Absolutely my friend.’ Jun claps him on the shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
November 19th, 1997
It should have been wonderful news to you that it was a clean break at least. No mess, just walking out the door and leaving behind the man and the job in one fell swoop. But of course, it wasn’t.
Microsoft was delighted when you told them you could start ASAP, but honestly you did it to jump into work rather than spend your time missing Jongdae. Filling your schedule proves to be the easiest way to avoid thinking about what hurts. You still had your roommates and Hitch and everyone else to hang out with, even if you weren’t ready for any Saturday pizza lunches or Shari’s nights quite yet. Both brought you far too close to him to bear right now.
Liz and Jane and Hitch are wonderful and you’ve had not one but two sleepovers since ‘the Jongdae incident.’ If not for their friendship and constant presence you’re sure you would have walled up the hurt and hid it away, not one to normally speak about your pain openly. Not while it’s so fresh.
Distantly you hope that Jongdae is okay and that he has someone to talk to. If he’s even hurting.
For all you know he’s completely fine and unaffected by the entire thing. Maybe he’s already found a new office manager and has forgotten about you. But those are the kind of rude and painful thoughts that only come to you at three in the morning when you can’t sleep, when dreams of his hands and his voice and his smile keep you up.
Jongdae calls one Tuesday to ask you to swing by Chen’s to pick something up the next day and you’re suspicious. He wouldn’t say any more, just ‘please come by at six. I have something to give you and I’d like it to be in person.’
You put on your favorite black dress and blazer that make you feel both sexy and confident and head to the mall. If he’s just calling you to twist the knife in deeper, you’ve already decided to leave and not bother letting him hurt you more. But if he’s calling to reconcile… you shake your head, not willing to get your hopes up. Instead you park in your old space and fix your make up in the rearview mirror.
It delights you to see that your old desk is returned to its former state. Just the computer, keyboard, and mouse remain. No one’s personal possessions have taken over the space like yours used to. It shouldn’t make you so happy to see he hasn’t replaced you, but it does.
Jongdae sits at his desk. His hair is in its usual perfect wave but his white button down and slacks have been swapped today for a dark green sweater and tan chinos. He looks ridiculously handsome and you grit your teeth, wishing you could turn off your attraction to him with a switch inside your brain.
He looks up at your knock on the glass door. For a moment he simply stands, drinking you in. Then he moves, walking closer to unlock the door and let you in.
‘Hi. How are you?’
You blink and try not to laugh. ‘How am I? Jongdae, how do you think I am?’
‘Right, sorry.’ He shakes his head. Carefully he looks you up and down, not bothering to hide his own attraction to you in his hungry gaze. With a swallow he remembers himself and grabs a cardboard banker’s box from in front of his desk. ‘Here. I didn’t want to come by and drop it off. It felt wrong.’
The box holds all the random photos and personal belongings you’d left in your desk, in your haste to leave. Postcards from Amsterdam and family photos and lotions and your favorite scarf you’d been missing. He steps back, resting against the corner of his desk and folding his arms. When you take it he doesn’t say anything, which is not what you’d hoped by any means, but silence is definitely less painful than you’d feared.
‘Well, it’s been an adventure,’ you manage. You lean against your desk and move the box under one arm, holding out a hand to him to shake. Ready to be done with this officially.
He doesn’t move. You can feel words held on the tip of his tongue. Months and months later you know how to read his tells. The tightness in his jaw and the widening of his eyes and how his hand grips the fabric of his sweater. But seconds tick on and still he says nothing.
He should speak or you should leave. One of you should do something. Instead you’re frozen in time. Eventually your arm aches and you set the box down beside you. You could go first, but pride demands he be the one to confess, if there’s going to be any confessions tonight.
Neither of you caves; twin pillars of resolution, stubbornness, and desire. It’s a game the two of you could play for hours. The tension in the air pulls tighter than a violin. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, unabashedly. His lids grow heavy as he breathes deeply, close enough to smell your gardenia perfume, but just out of reach of being able to touch you.
So this is what it feels like to meet my match, you think, finally acknowledging just how deeply you want him. Enough nights had been spent imagining kissing him, being with him in far more intimate ways than just a holding of hands or a hug. You want more, but only if he wants you, too.
You'd always been told that you were too driven, too smart, too self-sufficient to attract a man. Even in your MBA program where ambition and intelligence were supposedly rewarded, it apparently made you too something to find a good man to date.
But now there’s one right in front of you, looking at you as if you’re the answer to Fermat’s Enigma; a rare and priceless gem he’d been hunting for all his life. But he doesn’t look at you as if you’re art to be admired, a prize to be won. The guard lifts steadily and when he looks at you now it’s as if you’re the kind of miracle he wants to sink his teeth, his tongue, and his fingers into.
Your cheeks grow warm and you’re sure you look just as amazed and turned on as he does. If you had to guess, you’d bet that the number of people who challenge him these days are few, and the number of people who attempt to see the man behind the curtain even fewer.
While everyone else in the world might just see a monolith of a man, a genius, a hardworking and brilliant anomaly, you see the passionate, warm heart that beats in his chest. You know that the tin man really does have feelings and needs, and your heart almost breaks when you realize he’s been searching for you just as fervently as you’ve been searching for someone like him.
The silence in the room is almost too fragile a thing to break. On one side of the moment is a spark of something, a chance to see if this connection is real and deep, or if this is just chemistry and biology combining into lust. If your mind has taken the small gestures of passion and kindness and friendship from him and built it up to be something more than the sum of its parts.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he breathes, voice catching in his throat. Releasing his folded arms he rests his palms on the edges of the desk.
‘I’ve missed you, too,’ you admit. Your hands curl in on themselves, trying to fight the way emotion and physical longing make it difficult to be in such a close proximity to him.
‘Okay, then.’ He breaks first, moving with purpose and striding to you in two steps, sliding his hands along your jaw with such softness that you gasp.
And then, finally, you feel his lips on yours. You grasp his hips, hands freed and aching to touch him, to feel his hard body press against yours with surprising heat.
You meet him with equal passion, working your lips against his steady assault on your composure. For a solid minute you’re in awe that you could feel this much, that his lips and his hands could undo you so rapidly. That they could rebuild you into someone who belongs to him in such a short space of time, after weeks of endless doubt.
He groans against your lips in what feels like similar shock and surrender. Who would have thought that he would cave to your touch just as you did to his? How could someone so grumpy and strong-willed also be so open and vulnerable to this tentative thing between you.
But as he drops a hand and brings it to rest securely on the small of your back you realize there’s a name for this feeling.
You could call it fate. You could call it destiny. You could call it that damned four-letter word or you could call it Darwinism for all you care as his teeth bite gently into your lower lip.
You just know that nothing has ever felt as good and right as his hands claiming you for his own and the smell and heat of him wrapping themselves around you and burrowing their way into your heart.
A whine works its way from your throat as he licks along the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. When you open your mouth to him, his tongue slides along your own and you almost lose your balance. With a giggle you could swear you’ve never made before in your life you let him guide you up onto the desk.
He steps between your legs instantly, gripping your hips and continuing his tasting of you. Heat and electricity race down your spine as you fist your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to you until there’s no separation.
Banging on the glass doors and whistles come from out in the mall and you freeze. Instead of jerking back in shock and alarm like you’d expect him to, Jongdae confounds you once again. He pulls back slowly, opening his eyes and lifting his hands to gently cup your face. It can’t have been more than fifteen minutes but in less than the time it takes to watch one episode of Friends he’s turned your world on its axis.
You and Jongdae smile at each other and both turn to wave at your group of friends, who are celebrating and clapping. Baekhyun eats from an enormous bag of popcorn, wearing his theater uniform. Jongin and Sehun take large handfuls and Hitch whoops with joy. Liz and Jane and Junmyeon are all smiling, and attempt to force some of the group away to give you privacy.
Jongdae’s hands flex on your waist. ‘I want to try. You’re everything I want, will you please give me the chance to be what you need?’ His voice is raspy and his lips are red and you can’t help but grin.
‘I just want you, okay?’ You fix his messed up hair with both hands and sigh with relief. ‘And for you to admit you like me.’
‘I far more than like you.’ Jongdae rolls his eyes and kisses you once more. ‘You just want me to say you’re right.’
With a laugh you ease yourself off your desk, standing close within his arms and bending to whisper in his ear. ‘I’m always right. I just love when you admit it.’
‘So,’ he starts with an amused quirk of an eyebrow. ‘Will you let me take you to dinner? Us, officially, on a date.’
Your chest feels as if it’s a balloon, expanding so rapidly it might burst. He looks so young and boyish and hopeful your heart feels like it turns to liquid gold. With a delighted grin you lean forward and press your lips to his again, unable to resist.
Joy swims in his irises as he holds you in his arms. He looks at you through his lashes, his lips tilting into lopsided smile. ‘Is that a yes, then?’
‘Yes,’ you answer. ‘Of course.’
‘How’s right now for you?’ He motions to the doors and your friends have finally been corralled to the side of the walkway, revealing an elaborately decorated table in the food court.
You gasp and grip his arm. Jun and Sehun hold the doors open and Jongdae escorts you out. A red tablecloth is spread out over the circular table. The chairs have added plush cushions and several candles have been lit. A bottle of wine and two glasses rest beside several plates of food. You recognize the pizza from Barada, the rest looks like a mix from the other restaurants in the food court.
With high fives and hugs from your friends they finally leave you and Jongdae alone. Well, almost alone. It’s not a busy time at the mall, but there’s no way to avoid some of the customers turning to watch with amusement and curiosity as they pass by. You pay them no mind as Jongdae holds out your chair and helps you sit.
The two of you fall back into conversation easy enough, aided by the enormous amount of food and how you no longer have to move your knees away when they bump under the table. Jongdae reaches for your hand and holds it, in full view. He stares at the joined digits with warmth before looking up at you.
Doubt passes across his face, marring the beauty that contentment lends his features. ‘I don’t -’ he struggles. ‘I don’t know how to keep this much good in my life. I worry that I’m going to mess it up.’
Neither of you are the type to openly acknowledge such things. Merely the fact that he’s voicing his fears to you shows you he’s doing what he said - he’s trying, he wants to change. And truthfully so do you.
‘I worried for the longest time that I’d be alone forever,’ you say softly. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who understood me or who could handle all my - well, you know how I am.’
Jongdae smiles then, lifting your joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to your skin. ‘I love who you are.’
Your eyes mist at that and you groan, trying to blink them back. ‘Good, because I love who you are too.’ With your free hand you reach for his, needing to hold both of them and all of him at once. Not wanting to give his overly-analytical mind a chance to override the fragile hope you’re both building tonight. ‘You know what to do when a computer overloads?’
He nods. ‘Of course. Often it’s just a simple matter of turning it off and on again.’
‘So,’ you say, lifting your shoulder in a shrug. ‘When we mess up or freak out or say the wrong thing, we’ll just start over again. As long as you want me and I want you, we’ll figure it out.’
Jongdae softens, his shoulders dropping and ease coming back into his eyes. ‘I didn’t know I was lagging until you jump started my life.’ He waggles his brows. It’s a gesture that’s all Baekhyun, and a pun so terrible that Junmyeon would be proud. You can’t help but laugh and squeeze his hands.
‘I’ve got one more surprise,’ Jongdae says, reluctantly releasing one of your hands to pull two narrow slips of paper from his pocket. ‘Do you have any plans for Christmas?’
The tickets are in both your names. First class round trip from Seattle to Amsterdam. ‘Oh my - Jongdae, what is this? You and me in Amsterdam?’
‘I figured it was about time,’ he says with pride.
You lean out of your chair and reach for him, tugging him closer to kiss him fully. Noise reaches you - clapping and cheering from the shops around the mall. When you look around you see Sehun and his girlfriend leaning out of Starlight Apparel. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo smiling and fist bumping as they work on closing up the shop.
Hitch nudges Baekhyun from the theater booth and he jumps in excitement. And from Guardians Junmyeon leans on the counter, resting his chin in his hand, giving a thumbs up.
You roll your eyes and wave. ‘We maybe should have gone somewhere outside the mall, huh?’
'No, I think this is perfect,’ Jongdae answers. He then covers your mouth with his and holds you so tight that it drowns out the chorus of cheering that echos around the space.
194 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Cleaning Out the Rooms - a Harry Du Bois playlist
Alcoholism, getting better?, memory loss, being a superstar, The Final Dream, forming political opinions, bad breakups, past transgressions, being a strange and inconsistent being, and persisting despite it all
26 songs
(r-slur warning for Turnin’ on the Screw - QotSA)
including: David Bazan, They Might be Giants, The Mountain Goats, British Sea Power (of course), Queens of the Stone Age, and more. Full track listing and lyric excerpts under the cut
----
Turnin' on the Screw - Queens of the Stone Age
(This is the opening track on Era Vulgaris, seemed like an appropriate opening song / introduction to Harry's general essence)
----
...
They say those who can't just instruct others
And act like victims or jilted lovers
You can't lose it if you never had it
Disappear, man, do some magic
Want a reason? How's about because
You ain't a has been if you never was
I sound like this
Scared to say what is your passion
So slag it all, bitter's in fashion
Fear of failure's all you've started
The jury is in, verdict: r******d
I'm so tired, and I'm wired too
I'm a mess; I guess I'm turning on the screw
----
Bless this Mess - David Bazan
(Harry being a drunk and a general mess, things going in cycles)
----
God bless the man who stumbles
God bless the man who falls
God bless the man who yields to temptation
God bless the woman who suffers
God bless the woman who weeps
God bless the children trying her patience
Trouble getting over it
Is what you're in for
So pour yourself another
'Cause it'll take a steady pair of hands
Holy or unholy ghost
Well now I can't tell, but either way you cut it
You should get some distance if you plan to take a stand
God bless the house divided
God bless the weeds in the wheat
God bless the lamp hid under a bushel
I discovered hell to be the poison in the well
So I tried to warn the others of the curse
But then my body turned on me
I dreamt that for eternity
My family would burn
Then I awoke with a wicked thirst
----
Don’t Sit Down Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair - Arctic Monkeys
(general Harry vibe. off-kilter)
----
Break a mirror, roll the dice
...
Find a well-known hard man and start a fight
Wear your shell suit on bonfire night
Fill in a circular hole with a peg that's square
But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair
...
Bite the lightning and tell me how it tastes
Kung fu fighting on your roller skates
Do the Macarena in the devil's lair
But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair
----
I've Been Seeing Things - They Might be Giants
(feels very Harry's detecting style, surreal happenstance)
----
I've been seeing things
I've been seeing things
Don't have answers but
I've got lots of questions
Carpool's up, someone gets out
Hand someone else a violin case
I'm trying not to let them see me looking at them
But I'm pretty sure there was a dollar sign
Keep your eyes peeled and you'll see stuff
Which at first seems like unimportant irrelevant things
Can't just ask some perfect stranger
"What are you hiding in your violin case?"
Shadow them at a distance instead
Try to get inside their head
Where'd they go now (Where'd they go now)
I got distracted (I got distracted)
Begging me to stay (Begging me to stay)
Wearing a disguise (Wearing a disguise)
That lady (That lady)
Must have ditched the kid (Must have ditched the kid)
Hidge the down (Hidge the down) [???]
What's she up to now? (What's she up to now?)
Trembling cold by the airport road
Watching them stack containers in rows
Seagulls, helicopter, windblown trash
Something doesn't add up
I've been seeing things
I've been seeing things
No one asks but
I'm packing all kinds of attention
Later I'm watching a news report
Camera pans across a crime scene
Unremarked upon detail
Empty violin case
Okay maybe not the same case
Different material, different color
Still you have to wonder
Am I the only one who knows
I've been seeing things
----
Music is the Victim - Scissor Sisters
(breakup Harry. drug-addled disco Harry)
----
I left my heart in San Fransisco
It's at some motherfucking disco
The people there where dancin' on it
And that's including Ms. Matronic
Hell if music is the victim then so am I
Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite
I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry
If music is the victim then so am I
Of your bad fun
Money's all gone but you need some
Lover's on the phone but they got none
Daddy ain't home from the dog run
And you're riding through the city with a shotgun
I left my bag in Pasadena
Where all them girls was doin' Tina
Them bitches sure were crunked up on it
I said I'd rather smoke some chronic
Hell if music is the victim then so am I
Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite
I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry
If music is the victim then so am I
----
Down to Your Soul - Right Away, Great Captain!
(about the Final Dream and pre-game Harry)
----
And I see things I actually don't see.
I knew it wasn't actually you a few feet from my reach.
I looked into your eyes and I began to lose my teeth,
And I felt you were dreaming the same thing.
And I know you don't know what I'm capable of
But if you give me just one more minute I'm sure
That you would be shaking right down to your soul
And I'd hope that the fear of the lord brings me home.
I'm a man in a body of water so tall
Could swallow you whole and forget where he's going
But I carved a map in the back of my arm
Don't worry I'm coming home
I said don't worry cause I'm coming home
----
No Surprises - Radiohead
(suicidal harry, pre-game. Maybe immediately before the game. A little Big Communism Builder)
----
A heart that's full up like a landfill
A job that slowly kills you
Bruises that won't heal
You look so tired, unhappy
Bring down the government
They don't, they don't speak for us
I'll take a quiet life
A handshake of carbon monoxide
And no alarms and no surprises
…
This is my final fit
My final bellyache
…
No alarms and no surprises, please (get me out of here)
----
Cleaning Out the Rooms - British Sea Power
(The instrumental part seems to have been used / referenced for a background music track. And also the name of that one thought project. as expected, it fits beautifully. Wake up in a new life, down by the seaside. Cleaning out the rooms. She’ll be coming soon.)
----
Where life is good in a way
Swept away upon our hearts, in cold coal ceremonial
On a rainy day, hang it up
Get the vacuum and suck it in
Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up
Dark cloud, drifting out of view
I'll never know, she'll be coming soon, that is all
I'll wake up in a new life, ship shape and shoe shine
Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up
She'll be coming soon
Drifting into view, way in the west, white cloud
If everybody knew, I never knew, she'll be coming soon
I'll wake up in a new life, down by the seaside
In a new life, down by the seaside
Cleaning out the room, I'll clean it up
Dark clouds, she'll be coming soon
Down the chimney, out the window, that is all
----
In the Morning of the Magicians - The Flaming Lips
(waking up with no memory, but bad vibes)
----
In the morning I awake
And I couldn't remember
What is love and what is hate
The calculations error
Oh, what is love and what is hate?
And why does it matter?
Is to love just a waste?
And how can it matter?
Oh...
As the dawn began to break
I had to surrender
The universe will have its way
Too powerful to master
----
Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads
(Huh?? What's happening?? same as it ever was, same as it ever was)
----
And you may ask yourself, "How do I work this?"
And you may ask yourself, "Where is that large automobile?"
And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house"
And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife"
...
Same as it ever was, same as it ever was
Same as it ever was, same as it ever was
...
And you may ask yourself, "What is that beautiful house?"
And you may ask yourself, "Where does that highway go to?"
And you may ask yourself, "Am I right? Am I wrong?"
And you may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done?"
----
Don't Change - David Bazan
(alcoholism, cycles of wanting to get better, depression, slipping in to old coping mechanisms, plus a little bit in here about dreams. This is a song for if Harry continues partying after the memory wipe, I suppose)
----
He seems nice
You met him once or twice
But you wonder what he's like
When he's sober
Then again
You hear he has no friends
Just people that he spins
To do him favors
When he wakes up in the morning he tells himself
Today I'll make a change
But falling into his bed at night he thinks
Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same
I'm so deep
That only in my sleep
Do the secrets that I keep
Float to the surface
So I hold them down
Till they don't make a sound
Like they accidentally drowned
Except on purpose
And when I wake up in the morning I tell myself
Today I'll make a change
But falling into my bed at night I think
Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same
----
Airbag - Radiohead
(born again, back to save the universe)
----
In the next world war
In a jackknifed juggernaut
I am born again
In the neon sign scrolling up and down
I am born again
In an interstellar burst
I am back to save the universe
In a deep, deep sleep of the innocent
I am born again
In a fast German car
I'm amazed that I survived
An airbag saved my life
In an interstellar burst
I am back to save the universe
----
A Comet Appears - The Shins
(puppeting a man-body around pretending to be a living thing. drinking, depression)
----
One hand on this wily comet
Take a drink just to give me some weight
Some uber-man I'd make
I'm barely a vapor
They shone a chlorine light on
A host of individual sins
Let's carve my aging face off
Fetch us a knife
Start with my eyes
Down so the lines
Form a grimacing smile
Close your eyes to corral a virtue
Is this fooling anyone else?
Never worked so long and hard
To cement a failure
----
The Communists Have the Music - They Might be Giants
(Big Communism Builder, but especially Harry's shallow understanding of Communism. Party-boy communist)
----
I got handed an Ayn Rand sandwich
Straight from the can, it tasted so bland
I asked a lass to pass me a glass
Of Engels' Conditions of the Working Class
Right away they dragged me to the committee
To explain my un-American activity
They're gonna see they made a mistake
If they'd only let me play my mixtape
I'm not partial to the martial
Or the plutocrats, in their beaver hats
And the fascists have the outfits
But I don't care for the outfits
What I care about is music
And the communists have the music
----
Harlem Roulette - The Mountain Goats
(Harry thinking about Guillame le Million? Generally: that vibe of secret, maybe supranatural machinations happening just outside your field of view. A kinda lonely, pensive vibe, sprinkled with past drug use, driving...memory)
----
Unknown engines underneath the city
Steam pushing up in billows through the grates
Frankie Lymon's tracking "Seabreeze" in a studio in Harlem
Its 1968.
Just a pair of tunes to hammer out.
Everybody's off the clock by 10:00.
The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again.
Feels so free when I hit the avenue.
Nothing like a New York summer night.
Every dream's a good dream,
Even awful dreams are good dreams,
If you're doing it right.
Remember soaring higher than a cloud.
Get pretty sentimental now and then.
The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again.
And four hours north of Portland, a radio flips on.
And some no one from the future remembers that you're gone.
Armies massing in the dusky distance.
Ghosted in the ribbon microphone.
Leave a little mark on something, maybe,
Take the secret circuit home.
Nothing in the shadows but the shadow hands.
Reaching out to sad, young, frightened men.
The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again.
----
Suture up Your Future - Queens of the Stone Age
(Harry's gonna fix his mess)
----
I'm gon' suture up my future
I ain't jaded, I just hate it
See, I been down too long
It's kinda hard to explain
Burned and buried, all I carried
...
Tried explaining unexplained
Got caught in the plan
All this talking at once
I've been giving my love away
To the things that tear it apart
I'm gonna suture up my future
----
Lampshades on Fire - Modest Mouse
(Harry trashing his body / having already trashed his body, just kinda a Harry-vibe song)
----
...
Well, the lampshade's on fire when the lights go out
This is what I really call a party now
Well, fear makes us really, really run around
A-this one's done so where to now?
Our eyes light up, we have no shame at all
Well, you all know what I'm talking about
The room lights up, but we're still dancing around
We're having fun, having some fun now
Pack up again, head to the next place
Where we'll make the same mistakes
Open one up and let it fall to the ground
Pile out the door when it all runs out
...
As our feelings are getting hurt
Oh, we want you to do the work
Our ass looks great inside these jeans
Well, we want just our water clean
Well, this is how it's always been
And this is how it's going to be
So you just move on
----
Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes
(Harry "can-opener" du Bois. Talking to the skills, solving things, detecting, generally being a terrifying force of nature / the pale)
----
I'm gonna fight 'em all
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right behind my back
And I'm talking to myself at night
Because I can't forget
Back and forth through my mind
Behind a cigarette
And the message coming from my eyes
Says, "Leave it alone"
Don't wanna hear about it
Every single one's got a story to tell
Everyone knows about it
From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell
And if I catch it coming back my way
I'm gonna serve it to you
And that ain't what you want to hear
But that's what I'll do
And the feeling coming from my bones
Says, "Find a home"
----
Body of Years - Mother Mother
(Harry's past that follows him, Harry's half-decomposed body that marks the years of abuse it's been through)
----
All the remains of a cadaver of days
I keep hidden away, keep them there just in case
I wanna visit that place
Blow the dust from the bones
Off a body of years that I leave all alone
Just a body of years
See the skin disappears
And the blood turns to stone
In a body of years now a pile of bones
Like a sheet of veneer
Each a piece of my soul
It's a body of years that I leave all alone
It's Just a body of years, now a pile of bones
You know
Old soul who falls down
Can't stop trippin' on these
Old roads I go down
Get back up and get my foot in the door
And my face on the page
Make my mark in the world
With a bat and a blade
It's a body of work that you can't ever change
Like a body of years that you take to your grave
It's just a body of years that I leave all alone
It's just a body of years, now a pile of bones
Like a sheet of veneer
Each a piece of my soul
----
The Cap-m - They Might be Giants
(just a Harry vibe song)
----
When I talk you keep looking away from me
'Cause you probably think that I'm high on pot
But I'm not, I'm not
Look me over, I'm the Cap'm
You say it's such a joke
But I don't see you laughing
People seem to think you can't be called the Cap'm
Unless you drive a boat
Well, I don't
I don't
Look me over, I'm the Cap'm
Go ahead and mess with me
You'll find out what will happ'm
...
Did you say what I think you just said
My hat looks good on me?
I agree, I agree
Look me over, I'm the Cap'm
You act like it's a joke
But I don't see you laughing
----
Broke - Modest Mouse
(oops! all mistakes. Broke it all. Want to forget it but can't)
----
Broke account, so I broke a sweat
I've bought some things that I sort of regret about now
Broke my pace and ran out of time
Sometimes I'm so full of shit that it should be a crime
Broke a promise 'cause my car broke down
Such a classic excuse it should be bronze by now
Broke your glasses, but it broke the ice
You said that I was an asshole and I paid the price
Broken hearts want broken necks
I've done some things that I'd love to forget, but I can't
Broke up, and I'm relieved somehow
It's the end of the discussions that just go 'round and 'round
And 'round, and 'round, and 'round
...
It was like everything was evidence of broken time
You're living on fancy wine
You'll drink that turpentine
You're starting conversations
You don't even know the topic
----
Spent Gladiator 2 - The Mountain Goats
(Defiantly alive)
----
Like a spent gladiator,
Crawling in the coliseum dust.
Who can count on his remaining limbs,
All the people he can trust.
Like the one who stands behind him,
Cheering him on.
Ecstatic when he stands defiant,
Wild with abandon when he's gone.
Just stay alive.
Keep your eyes on the pay line.
Like a village on the step,
About to get collectivized.
When the men emerge with rifles from the haystack,
Everybody looks surprised.
Like the mice in the forgotten grain,
Way up on the top shelf.
Like someone who's found a small town to escape to,
Keeps one eye on his abandoned, former self.
Stay in the game.
Just try to play through the pain.
Like a fighter who's been told its finally time for him to quit.
Show up in shining colors,
And then stand there and get hit.
Like the clock that ticks in Dresden,
When the whole town's been destroyed.
Like the nagging flash of insight,
You're always desperate to avoid.
Like the bloody-knuckled gunman,
Still stationed at the breach.
Like that board game with the sliders,
And the children on the beach.
Stay alive.
Maybe spit some blood at the camera.
Just stay alive.
Stay forever alive.
----
You Only Live Once - The Strokes
(just general Harry, talking about the skills, choices you can make, what kind of cop you can be)
----
Twenty-nine different attributes
Only seven that you like, oh-oh
Twenty ways to see the world, oh
And twenty ways to start a fight, oh
...
And countless odd religions too
It doesn't matter which you choose, oh, no
One stubborn way to turn your back, oh
This I've tried and now refuse, oh
Oh don't, don't, don't get up
I can't see the sunshine
Oh, I'll be waiting for you, baby
'Cause I'm through
Sit me down
Shut me up
I'll calm down
And I'll get along with you
----
Pork and Beans - Weezer
(Superstar Cop)
----
They say I need some rogaine to put in my hair
Work it out at the gym to fit my underwear
Oakley makes the shades to transform a tool
You'd hate for the kids to think that you've lost your cool
I'ma do the things that I wanna do
I ain't got a thing to prove to you
I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans
Excuse my manners if I make a scene
I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like
I'm fine and dandy with the me inside
One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink
I don't give a hoot about what you think
Everyone likes to dance to a happy song
With a catchy chorus and beat so they can sing along
Timbaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts
Maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art
I'ma do the things that I wanna do
I ain't got a thing to prove to you
I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans
Excuse my manners if I make a scene
I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like
I'm fine and dandy with the me inside
One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink
I don't give a hoot about what you think
No, I don't care
I don't care
----
Freaks - Surf Curse
(head filled with skills, The Final Dream)
----
Don't kill me just help me run away
From everyone I need a place to stay
Where I can cover up my face
Don't cry, I am just a freak
I am just a freak(x3)
My head is filled with parasites
Black holes cover up my eyes
I dream of you almost every night
Hopefully I won't wake up this time
I won't wake up this time(x3)
----
The Smallest Church in Sussex - British Sea Power
(oh yeah this is mandatory)
----
#disco elysium#harry du bois#harrier du bois#hdb#disco elysium playlist#generally wanted to keep this playlist fun to listen to despite the subject matter to there are still a lot of songs w good beats#communists have the music gets stuck in my head all the time#also sorry to repost this#i forgot to tag anything and if you edit something to add tags it doesn't seem to show up in search
100 notes
·
View notes
Text
Words Fail
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader
Summary: Even when he gets everything he could ever wish for Dean feels like a square peg in a round hole. He doubts he is worthy of anything real, anything like ‘normal’, but is he right? Is he too broken to be loved?
Word Count: 1895 words
A/N: This is for the wonderful @i-make-questionable-choices because I am their Secret Santa! This gets a little angsty guys, so strap in.
He never meant for this to happen. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was, he just knew it was something he had never wanted. Standing, rooted to the spot, he watched through the window as you interacted with Sammy, and the hole in his heart grew to become a gaping chasm. He felt like such a fraud, like this life he was leading was a foolish lie, and, by extension, he had made a fool of you and your love for him. On paper, he had everything he’d ever wanted, everything he could have wished for.
Dean had woken up in the hospital and discovered that he’d had a mental breakdown, that his mind had created this world of demons and darkness. He had been part of a trial for a new medication, and it seemed to have woken him up, brought him back to the light. The day Sammy had picked him up from the hospital had been one of the happiest in his life. They had met up with mom and dad, gone for a family meal, and he had been so grateful he’d been given a second chance. A few months later and he had a job, a home, a dog! Then there was you. You’d apparently been a part of his life before the breakdown, and Sammy said you’d never given up on him, not once. Dean wasn’t sure how long this lucid spell would last, so he wasted no time in proposing, and now you shared this picture-perfect life with him. Only there was something he never told you, something he never spoke about to anyone.
There were times he looked at you and your smile was so bright, maybe a little too bright. He had begun to wonder if it was forced. He’d seen the way you smiled at Sammy and begun to doubt how solid your relationship was. It was crazy, he knew that, but the insecurity slowly crept in and he couldn’t shake it. This idea that maybe you’d married the wrong brother lingered. Had he trapped you? It wasn’t like you could leave him without being afraid he would have another breakdown.
Slowly, Dean had begun to pull away, but nobody seemed to have noticed. He had become a ghost in his own life, going through the motions and observing the interactions between others, trying to figure out why he felt so wrong. There were times he wanted to scream, wanted to cry out for help, but words failed him. That’s why he was standing on the lawn, staring through his own kitchen window, and watching how naturally you interacted with his brother. He saw how soft your smile was, how your eyes crinkled when you laughed, obviously sharing a joke that he would never understand.
Why had he ever thought he could be a part of this life? Here he was with this perfect girl who somehow could see the good parts of him, couldn’t seem to see the cracks and the darkness and the empty spaces. He had his father stopping by for a beer on the porch telling corny jokes. He had his mother bringing round freshly baked pie ‘just because’. He had his brother endlessly supporting him and checking in. So, why did he feel like this? It didn’t make sense. Part of him wanted to put his hand in the mower blades, just to see if he could feel anything other than this endless longing for something, he didn’t even know what.
“Sam! In here!” You called out, lowering your gun and sprinting over to the unconscious figure hanging by his wrists from the beam above. “Dean? Hey, I’ve got you.” You tucked your gun into your belt and pulled up a box, standing on it to begin working at the knotted rope that secured his hands.
“Shit.” Sam entered the room, his eyes widened as he saw his brother. Hurrying over, he wrapped his arms around Deans waist, taking his weight as you released him from his bonds. With his hands now free, Dean slumped onto his brother.
“Well, would you look at that. I did think I might have a little more time to play with my new toy.” A slender woman stepped out of the shadows, her obsidian eyes giving away her true form beneath the meat suit. “Oh well.”
“What have you done to him?” You snarled, reaching for your blade but Sam was quicker. He was on his feet and pinning the demon against the wall with his demon blade to her throat before the bitch could defend herself.
“I haven’t done anything to him. Your big brother is perfectly capable of creating his own torture. Funny really, give him the perfect life and he’ll still find a way to screw it up.” She let out an empty laugh, which turned into a gasp as Sam’s blade sank into her skin.
You had been so focused on the demon, you hadn’t realised Dean had opened his eyes. You had been absentmindedly stroking his hair as his head rested on your knee, and as his eyes fluttered open you were the first thing he saw. All the love and hope from his previous life, the fake one installed in his mind, flooded over him and he quickly sat up, pulling you into a tight hug. “Hey, you okay?” Your warm breath on his ear made him close his eyes. This felt real. This felt right. Having you here in his arms made him believe this was true, but once again words failed him. He had everything he had ever wanted right here in front of him, but he couldn’t say a damned word, the emotion just too big.
The drive back to the bunker was a long one, and Dean had drifted in and out of sleep, but he had caught snippets of conversation between you and Sam. Enough to know he had been missing three days. Enough to know the two of you had bonded over your worry.
The next few weeks he put on a brave face, took on hunts, cleaned baby, joked around like he was his usual self. Yet, there were times the mask slipped, like when he saw the furtive glances you threw Sam’s way, and the ones his brother returned. The dream where he had been married to you was fading, which Dean thought was a good thing. It was nothing more than a sad invention, a figment of his imagination. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the pair of you had been happy. He had been happy, at least for a while. Part of him clung to that, unwilling to give that up, trying to believe that could be real because then he wouldn’t have to see the reality, that you were falling for his brother.
Not that he blamed you. No, Sammy was a much better bet. He had a real shot, always had. He was so much stronger than Dean, so much smarter. You deserved the best, so Dean stayed silent, pretending to be something better than the sum of his shattered heart.
Three am and his feet took him towards the kitchen, the soft padding of his footsteps against the concrete the only noise in the bunker, save from the soft snores coming from Sam’s room. Wandering through the doorway, he was surprised to see you pouring yourself a hot chocolate. For a moment, he thought about backing away, hiding in his room until the coast was clear, but you glanced at the doorway and gave him a sleepy smile. “Hey, you want one? There’s more than enough for two, and I found some marshmallows.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” He nodded, the corners of his lips quirking up of their own accord as he moved to lean against the counter. “So…” He was reminded of something someone had said once about nothing good ever happening at three in the morning, and decided he may as well poke his wounded heart, “…you and Sammy, huh?”
“What?” You frowned as you grabbed an extra mug, looking at him with confusion written all over your face.
“Come on, a guy knows when he’s the third wheel.” He chuckled, his smile no longer reaching his eyes.
“Is that a Winchester saying, because that’s almost exactly what Sam said to me the other day.” You poured him a drink, sprinkling white fluffy marshmallows on the top and smiling softly as they began to dissolve.
“Why would he be the third wheel?” Dean asked, taking the mug from you and holding back a shiver as your fingers brushed his.
“He’s got it in his head that I may be a little bit in love with you.” You shrugged, picking up your own mug in two hands and avoiding looking at him.
“Me? Is he insane? Nah, if you’re in love with anyone then it’s him, right? Come on, in a flat out contest with my baby brother I lose. I’m a mess. And I don’t mean one of those cute messes that girls feel they can fix. Not that Sammy’s not a mess, we all are, but at least he talks about it. He finds the words, he deals with shit and I…” He trailed off, staring at the marshmallows as they formed a pool of sugar on the surface of his drink.
“You what? You bottle it up and then talk in circles in the early hours? You slam on the breaks any time you think there might even be a hint of intimacy with someone? You try to hide what you believe is the worst of you because you can’t let people see that? You think if they see the real you then they will hate you just as much as you hate yourself? Fuck, Dean, find me a hunter who doesn’t think like that. Sam does. I do.”
“I… I get a shot at the apple-pie life and I screw it up, every time. Any time I have something good in my life it slips through my fingers. I don’t know how to do this. I want this, but I’m just gonna fuck it up, and then you’ll be gone too. I don’t…” he shook his head, closing his eyes as his brow furrowed.
“You don’t deserve it? You don’t think you can do it? You don’t like me enough to give it a shot?”
“I don’t want to lose you.” His voice sounded so broken and he held his breath as a silence enveloped the pair of you. The sound of your mug being placed on the counter echoed in the room, then he felt you take his drink and place it next to your own.
“So, maybe we don’t get white picket fences, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have our own version of apple pie. You’re not gonna lose me, Dean. I have seen so many sides of you and I am still right here. You are a good man, and you deserve to be loved. Fuck it, Winchester, just let me love you.” You let out a chuckle which made him look up, his eyes meeting yours. There was that smile again, the one that seemed impossibly bright, only this time he realised it wasn’t forced, it was so dazzling because it was especially for him.
#Dean Winchester x reader#Dean Winchester#spn-secret-santa-fic-exchange#a g-n-d-w fic#something I wrote
181 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
brianshoe
Briansho
tokenscribbles
Doodles and then some
supranova
Just a Dreamer
onechosen
˗ˏˋ of legends. ˊˎ˗
aestheticartifacts
Collecting Aesthetics