#i have assignments to do but he's hogging my brain space
Text
he <3
#welcome home#welcome home fanart#welcome home wally#wally darling#i have assignments to do but he's hogging my brain space
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
overdrive
iwaizumi hajime · fluff · 1.7k
summary: iwaizumi seriously needs to get work done, without his mind going into overdrive
a/n: the product of spending too many nights in the library because i can't get work done back in my room
The reason why Iwaizumi doesn’t like studying in the library open space is because there’s too many people.
High school students hogging seats that are evidently not enough to cater for the university’s own students. Half-zombified students surviving on energy drinks sprawled on the table, escaping reality by taking a catnap. Students with earbuds stuck into their ears, tapping away on their phones or watching videos under the cool air-conditioning instead of the scorching heat outside. Or those who Iwaizumi wonders how they even got accepted into university because they’re clearly illiterate, making sure everyone around them knows what’s on their mind despite the big red ‘quiet please’ sign hanging on the wall next to them.
“It’s distracting.” he grumbles. “How am I supposed to focus with so many people roaming around, not to mention the background noise I didn’t ask for.” The endless flow of people rolling before his eyes has him rubbing his temples in distress.
“It just means that you’re not focused enough, Iwa.” Your eyes never leave the laptop before you, fingers swiftly tapping on your keyboard.
He shoots a glare to your direction. “Why don’t you try sitting in my position and see if you’ll say the same.”
A scoff sounds in the air. “As if it’s not the same on my end.”
Iwaizumi should be used to squeaking noises on the polished concrete surface, given the years of spending most of his youth living in the school gym. But the shuffles and squeaks behind him now has his jaw clenched tight, fingers coiled together.
“Admit it. You’re just distracted by me.”
Two pairs of eyes lock. One with a glint of tease and mischief, one with a glint of exasperation and fatigue.
“As if.” You smirk at his response, clicking your tongue knowingly as you trail your eyes back on the bright laptop screen.
As if you’re the reason why he’s distracted. What absolute nonsense.
But if you’re not, why did he reply so hastily, mouth working faster than his brain, as if he was trying to hide something? As if someone broke the passcode to his closely-guarded safe that safeguards his hidden stash of valuables and treasures?
Is that why he firmly insists on studying in the quiet area, all the way in the deep end of the library, where one is confined to a study pod each? No random humans lurking in sight, just a laptop screen, and three mounted walls enclosing the small yet breathable space. The cries of help from keyboards being murdered mercilessly by the rapid finger smashing filling the air.
A space where everyone has their minds shackled to the device before them, head swimming in overloaded information too much for poor brains. A space where the only distraction is the faint cries only audible to oneself screaming this is too much.
That’s the space Iwaizumi needs to be in. And that’s the only distraction he needs.
Or the only distraction he can afford to have.
Because the rest are definitely too much.
One, in particular, is definitely too much.
His eyes act on their own will, something he can’t hold rein of.
It captures every small detail of the figure seated opposite him. You, to be specific.
The way your brows furrow together in complete concentration. He’s sure that you’ll be the one having wrinkles earlier than him, despite your constant nagging of how he shouldn’t crumple up his face in disgust at the sight of couples making out on campus in broad daylight.
The way you heave out heavy, long sighs every half an hour, like a fire-breathing dragon spouting flames from its mouth. Not as scary as Godzilla though.
The way you rest your temple against your knuckles, gradually tilting sideways like the Leaning Tower of Pisa as your elbows slip further. It’s a miracle you don’t lose balance at that angle.
The way your hand travels downwards towards the side of your neck, knuckles planted behind your ears to keep the weight of your head in place. Sometimes they’re curled together in a straight neat line. Sometimes they trek little lower, tucked under your jaw near to your ear. Sometimes just a finger is all you need to support the mass above your shoulders. Iwaizumi has honestly lost count of the number of poses you can make, which he has to admit, are better than those watch or jewellery models plastered on glossy magazine pages.
When your fingers wrap the side of your neck, or when your fingers splay across your neck and collarbone, he wonders if he can cradle your neck with his hand like a snug pillow. He knows how small your hands are compared to his large ones, how soft your palms are compared to his calloused ones, worn from years of practice. He wonders how it’ll feel against your smooth bare skin.
He wonders if he has his fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck, closing the gap by pulling you towards his chest to feel your heartbeat thumping against his, would your breath hitch, shudder under his touch from the sparks ignited from the sudden difference in skin texture, or would you melt into his touch, into the warmth of his palm that’s just a quarter of the fire in his burning heart that’s set ablaze by you?
When you part your lips to apply lip balm onto your dried lips caused by the low humidity, he wonders which lip balm you’re using today. Is it the normal original one? The peach flavoured one? Or the manuka honey one?
He licks his own dehydrated lips although he knows it would make it worse. When you smack your lips to even out the wax-like substance, he wonders how it feels like, how it tastes like. Does it really taste like peaches? Or like sweet honey dripping from your eyes at the sight of food?
He could find out by reaching out his hand to borrow it from you. But he wonders how it would feel like from your lips, how it would taste directly from your lips.
It’s a childish thought, but using a lip balm that has touched your lips on his is like an indirect kiss. High-school Iwaizumi would be a blushing mess at the thought. But Iwaizumi is all grown up now. If he were to want a kiss, he would want a direct kiss. Lips on lips. Flesh on flesh. Nothing in between.
But he remembers that his lips are slightly dry and chapped, which would be such a turnoff to mould it with your moist plump ones. But what better way to moisturise one’s lips with another?
When you tap your lips, deep in thought – as if taunting his previous thoughts – he wonders if he’s ever met anyone who does that instead of tapping their chin. And when you jab your thumb on your lower lip, knuckles brushing your upper lip, he wonders how your lips feel like. He has wiped away food stains from the side of your lips numerous times, but it was always the napkins that had the honour of gracing your skin. Are they as soft and plush as they seem?
Are they as dreamy and kissable as they seem?
He wants to find out for himself, to feel for himself. He wants to trace the curves of your lips with his fingertips, to feel each line carved on your lips, to memorise each slope and dip of your lips. If he can’t use his sense of taste to recognise your lips, at least he’ll know it’s you with his sense of touch.
Oh, just when he thinks that you look good in a certain lipstick colour, you prove him otherwise when you appear with a different shade the next day. It’s funny how all the shades of red and coral displayed look disturbingly identical in the shops you drag him into, but he can tell at first sight that they’re a different shade when it’s on your lips. He always finds it amazing how you blend different tones together to make your already desirable lips more alluring. It isn’t the colour that brings out the extra shine in you; it’s you who brings the pop of colour alive.
And he wonders how that pop of colour would look like on his bronze skin tone.
When you run your fingers through your hair in frustration, he wonders how it’ll feel like if those were his fingers. He’d run through them gently, soothing them out affectionately. He’d comb through each strand of hair with his fingers delicately.
He wonders how it’ll feel like with your fingers running through his hair, featherlike fingers caressing his scalp tenderly. It’s such a soft gesture that melts even the toughest of hearts. He wonders if you would tug his hair, if you would curl your fingers over his short cut. Would it be in playful manner? Or a desperate manner? Most importantly, when, why and where you would do that.
Let’s not get started on how your tongue peeks out the side of your mouth, running along your sharp yet cute fang teeth that could shred one into pieces. Or when you stick out your tongue teasingly at him when you catch him staring.
What’cha looking at? Eyes on the laptop, not me.
It’s a cute harmless gesture for you, but god knows how it’s a gesture drives his mind into overdrive. Something you're not ready to know about, yet.
There are too many wondering thoughts, thoughts deemed unnecessary and distracting when he’s with you. That’s why he insists on having a barrier wedged between the both of you, especially when he needs to get actual shit done. All he can see now is the crown of your head, and your sneakers beneath the table that are a few inches away from his. That’s all he needs and can handle on his plate right now.
Right now, there’s more important things to be done. Not that you’re not important. If you’re not important, you wouldn’t be driving him up the wall with such subtle movements and gestures.
Important things that require his attention right here, right now are things like the two thousand essay that’s due tomorrow. The e-mail from his professor regarding the group assignment progress that he has yet to reply. The mini army of tabs armed with journal articles waiting to be read.
Like any other day, Iwaizumi hopes and prays that his mind will cooperate with him to set gear into the right direction. If he could put off pouring his heart out for so many years, then these crazy yet valid thoughts could wait too.
He knows they’ll be worth the wait too.
#iwaizumi hajime x you#iwaizumi hajime x y/n#iwaizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi x y/n#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi hajime fluff#iwaizumi fluff#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu scenarios#iwaizumi scenarios#hq imagines#hq scenarios#haikyuu fluff#iwaizumi headcanons#iwaizumi hcs#iwaizumi oneshot
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Times They Are a-Changin’ (Little Brother!Sweet Pea)
A/N: Happy graduation to our class of Riverdale High School, and welcome back Sweet Pea even though you said like ten words during the episode. You looked great in the background, buddy. Here’s a little something about Ruthie and Sweet Pea and how they’re reacting to his graduation.
Word Count: 6,508
tagging @hughstheforcelou @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @humangrumpycat @brittanyvengeance, and @thecaptainsgingersnap for encouraging me to post!
The winds of change had been blowing in Riverdale as of lately with students and parents alike crossing off the calendar days until graduation. It was a constant bittersweet reminder with banners going up in store windows congratulating the graduating class of Riverdale High School, baker cakes being custom-ordered with names written in black icing cursive. Ruthie can’t help but feel a bitter tug at her chest as she pushes the shopping cart across the grocery store, checking off the mile-long list of ingredients that Maria and Atzi needed to make food for the big party. Ruthie tosses a few more items into the wobbly metal cart and makes her way to the checkout stand, trying not to be impatient as she waited. There’s a handful of people in front of her in line, mothers buying last minute ingredients for favorite meals to be eaten as a high school graduate, a gaggle of teens seeing if their fake IDs were actually good enough to buy a case of cheap beer to bring to whatever party was inevitably happening that weekend. Ruthie thumbs through the rack of cards propped up by the register and plucks out one with a lot of space to write in.
When she was out of the grocery store (with significantly less money in her pocket), Ruthie is overcome with this sudden feeling of “rightness”. She doesn’t have to worry about pinching pennies and stretching paychecks to make ends meet any more, she no longer feared trips to the grocery store and the always looming threat of her card being declined at the cash register when she had a basket full of items. Ruthie did what she was supposed to do: she took care of her brother Sweet Pea, took care of herself, and kept a roof over both of their heads. And despite all of the bullshit that the two of them have faced in their short amount of years, Sweet Pea was graduating. And at the end of the summer he and Fangs were packing up Dante’s old truck and driving it upstate, where they’d settle into their own apartment before their first week of college. Ruthie is overcome with a sudden burst of pride for herself and for her brother, their resilience and fighting strength. Growing up was scary but they did it, even when it wasn’t easy and every fiber of their being was telling them they weren’t gonna get anywhere any ways, so they may as well give up now. But Ruthie and Sweet Pea never did.
After she drops off the groceries for the Abuelas, Ruthie is panting when she bounds through the front door to the Soh-Peterson trailer, swearing up a storm after having to carry so many bags up and down the driveway and putting everything away in its rightful place.
“God, Maria is a pack-rat, I swear!” The sound of Ruthie tossing her keys onto the linoleum counter is enough to startle Sweet Pea, who had been mindlessly ripping out papers and assignments from his old binder. “Every time I have to go shopping for her I come home feeling like I need a drink…”
“If you’re offering, will you bring me one?” Sweet Pea smirks.
Ruthie huffs in response. “If I do that, will you also bring me whatever shirt you’re wearing for the ceremony tomorrow so that I can be sure to iron it?” She heads into the kitchen to fill up a pot of water to boil. She was making spaghetti with extra oregano, Sweet Pea’s favorite.
He heads into his bedroom for a quick moment and returns with a wrinkled dark blue dress shirt. He holds it up to Ruthie. “Do I have to wear a tie?” It’s such an innocent question that Ruthie cant help but laugh.
“Do you want to wear a tie?” Sweet Pea shrugs at his sister. “There’s that handful of Dad’s that we kept in the hall closet if you want to look through those. And for the love of god, please, anything but that ugly Christmas tie.” Ruthie turns to pour the dried spaghetti noodles into the boiling water and Sweet Pea hangs his choices over the door of the hall closet, in Ruthie’s line of sight so it wouldn’t be forgotten.
The two of them eat dinner together, with Sweet Pea trading anecdotes about his last day of high school through bites of warm bread and rich pasta. He tells Ruthie all about the school’s unearthed time capsule and what it held, tells her that there’s a whole spread in the yearbook dedicated to the Serpents (and that he’d have to show her all the good pictures of him). Ruthie smiles at her younger brother as she watches his eyes light up as he talks about the last few grueling moments of waiting for the seventh period bell to ring, officially signaling the end of the school day and his high school career.
“It was like everyone was holding their breath, you know? And when the bell rings everyone throws all of their stuff into the air, all of their papers, and everyone was hugging, going for high fives, it was weird—” Sweet Pea pauses to wipe away the red marinara sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Reggie comes at me for a bro-hug…I thought he was gonna pick me up off the ground!” He laughs and shakes his head. It was a moment that was a clear testament to growth, because a mere two years ago, if Sweet Pea and Reggie were in that close of proximity, one of them was gearing up to swing at the other.
“Definitely weird” .
Ruthie holds up her almost empty bottle of beer in a toast. “To your last day of high school.”
Sweet Pea clinks his bottle against hers and then takes their bowls and silverware to the kitchen to be washed without Ruthie needing to ask him. He rinses things off and washes them clean before handing them over to Ruthie to dry, a system that had been perfected after years of not so careful practice. When the dishes are done and put away, Sweet Pea retreats to his bedroom for the night and Ruthie doesn’t bug him. She knows that something like this can be a lot to process, especially for a person like him who isn’t really the biggest fan of change. Ruthie knows that sometimes you simply need a moment to sit with your emotions, whatever they may be. She waits patiently, can hear Sweet Pea talking to someone on the phone, Fangs maybe, so she waits a little longer. Ruthie sneaks out into the kitchen and opens the freezer, spends a few minutes spooning chunks of frostbitten chocolate chip ice cream into two mugs, one for her and one for Sweet Pea. When she hears him hang up the phone, Ruthie gives two quick taps on his bedroom door before she enters.
Sweet Pea’s sprawled out on his bed, legs tangled in the blankets that are barely hanging onto his twin sized mattress. His yearbook is next to him, filled with gleaming photo paper and inscriptions done in sharpie marker. The side of his left hand is smudged with pen ink and he’s trying to scribble his name in big graffiti letters onto the inside front cover of his yearbook. Sweet Pea sees that his sister came bearing ice cream so he smiles, sitting up and inviting Ruthie to rest on the foot of his bed. They clink their spoons together and each take way too big of a bite, fighting off brain freeze as Ruthie starts flipping through Sweet Pea’s heavy yearbook. No one says anything for a minute and they settle into a comfortable silence. Ruthie finds the section filled with senior portraits of the graduating class and can’t help but marvel at how both Sweet Pea and Fangs have grown.
“What time do you need to be there tomorrow?” Ruthie asks, sliding off of Sweet Pea’s bed and grabbing his empty, sticky mug. There was still a lot of work that Maria and Atzi needed help with before the graduation party for Fangs, Queenie, and Sweet Pea, and Ruthie was finding a weird sense of peace amongst the chaos.
“Seniors need to be in the gym by 4:30, and the ceremony starts at five o’clock so maybe get there at 5:15 so you don’t have to sit though the speeches”
“I’ll be there on time, don’t worry.” Ruthie laughs and leans her weight against the doorframe.
“Are you gonna sit with the Fogarty’s?” Sweet Pea asks, somewhat nervously.
“Of course I’m going to.” She reassures. “What, you think FP’s gonna save me a seat between him and Alice Cooper?”
Sweet Pea frowns at his sister’s joke but Ruthie thinks it’s hilarious.
“You’ll see me, don’t worry. The whole family is gonna sit together and cheer so loud for you three that you’ll be embarrassed”
“I won’t be embarrassed” Sweet Pea promised, almost forcefully, as though he needed to be sure his sister believed him.
Ruthie quirks up an eyebrow but chocks up the sudden outburst of emotion as a reaction to everything around Sweet Pea that was changing. She stands up straight, metal spoons clanging against the empty ceramic in her hands. “Try not to stay up too late, okay? You’re gonna have a long day tomorrow”
“Yeah, I gotta get my beauty sleep” Sweet Pea jokes, pulling his bed covers back up over his long legs.
“Gonna need it” Ruthie laughs over her shoulder as she makes her way back down the hallway to the kitchen. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth!” She turns the faucet on hot and pretends that she doesn’t hear Sweet Pea groan from the other room.
~~~
The morning of Graduation Day, both Sweet Pea and Ruthie wake up way before their alarms, anxiety already cold and pooling at the bottom of their empty stomachs. Sweet Pea manages to close his eyes for a few more minutes before being started awake again, feeling like he was running late, when he realizes that he has nowhere to be. For the first time in four whole years, Sweet Pea doesn’t need to spring out of bed and rush to get in the shower before Ruthie hogs all the hot water. He doesn’t have to worry about what time he needs to leave for school, or account how much time it’ll take to get to Riverdale High School all the way from the Southside. Sweet Pea didn’t have to worry about any of that because today, he was graduating high school.
When he gets to the kitchen, Ruthie is already there with a pot of coffee steaming and a stack of warm pancakes on a waiting plate. She laughs and gives him a sheepish smile, gesturing with the spatula to tell him to sit down. “Felt weird that we both weren’t running around each other trying to get ready to leave, so I decided to take advantage of all this time.”
“Thank you” Sweet Pea mumbles through a full mouth.
It was a rare day where the two siblings seemed to have nothing but free time. Ruthie makes a thick stack of pancakes and they both eat almost all of what’s on their plates. Sweet Pea washes the dishes and she dries, and by that time it’s only 10:45. They’re both too hopped up on coffee to even bother trying to take a mid-morning nap, and that’s how they end up watching a handful of episodes of The Price Is Right until Ruthie excuses herself to get in the shower. No one has to rush that day. No one is pounding on the door yelling about how they needed to get in the bathroom to finish getting ready, threatening bodily harm on one another. Ruthie takes time lathering her hair with shampoo and conditioner, relishing in the warm water that she actually got to enjoy. No one had anything to stress out about today. Ruthie gets out of the shower, takes her time, and Sweet Pea gets in. Ruthie irons his dress shirt and his tie and hangs them back up until he’s ready. The two siblings convene for half of an episode of some daytime talkshow until Sweet Pea complains that he’s hungry. Sweet Pea makes grilled cheese sandwiches for late lunch while Ruthie does her makeup in the living room. Sweet Pea leaves the pan and their plates in the sink knowing that later he’ll wash and Ruthie will dry.
“Pick up the pace a little bit, okay? It’s almost four and we’re probably gonna need to leave soon so you have a chance to find your friends and sit with them.” Ruthie breezes into Sweet Pea’s room, dressed up in a way that made her look older than she was, but not as old as she felt. She looks good in her blazer and her heeled boots, like a proud parent.
Sweet Pea is dressed but his shirt’s not tucked in and his tie is crooked. He stands in front of the mirror and tries to fasten his father’s old tie into a Windsor knot but his fingers are soo long and too clumsy. “Shit…” He mumbles and Ruthie can tell he’s getting frustrated.
She doesn’t have to say here let me, she simply gives her brother the same knowing look she always does and steps in front of him to refasten and straighten Sweet Pea’s tie for him. Ruthie smooths her hands over his shoulders, wiping away creases and floating motes of dust and lint. She takes a long look at him and realizes how much he’s grown to look like their dad, or the way that Ruthie remembered her dad looking in the few old photographs stashed in a shoebox somewhere in her closet.
“You look so handsome” She whispers, her voice tight in her throat as she tries to will away any hot tears from spilling.
“Oh c’mon, don’t cry, Ruth” Sweet Pea says with an uncomfortable laugh, stepping away from his watery-eyed sister. “Cause if you start crying, I might start crying and then what good does that do for either one of us?” Ruthie laughs and gives a big exhale as she tries to compose herself.
“God I feel like Maria” She laughs, thinking of the Abuelas and the wrinkled tissues they always seemed to pull out of nowhere. Ruthie can’t help but shudder as she remembers back when Dante graduated high school and how she was surprised that Maria and Atzi weren’t dehydrated from crying under the hot spring sun.
Sweet Pea takes a look at himself in the mirror, running his comb though his hair to gel it back into place with sticky pomade. His shrugs on his long, blue graduation robe and tucks his cap under one of his arms before giving himself a last once-over in the mirror with a sigh, like this was as good as it was going to get. Ruthie slings her heavy purse over her shoulder and soon the two siblings are making their way out the door and down the front steps of the house. Sweet Pea almost hits his head getting into Ruthie’s compact car, she laughs but he scoffs and pulls the ray-ban sunglasses out of her hair and puts them on for himself.
The drive across town to Riverdale High School was longer than usual, the long lines of cars all leading to the same place. Ruthie honks her car horn, if not because she thought it could make things go faster, but just because she could. Sweet Pea scrolls through radio static until he finds a station that’s playing some old Green Day song that he and his sister used to dance around to when they were younger. He bounces his knee along with the rhythmic thumping of the drums and Ruthie taps her fingers along on the steering wheel. Sweet Pea’s nervous, they both know it but neither one of them would admit that. He’s worried that he’ll trip when walking across the stage, that his long legs and the long silk gown will get the better of him.
“Just breathe” Ruthie nods, following the cars all turning towards the high school. She parks her car towards the back of the school’s parking lot and waits with Sweet Pea as he tries to coordinate where to meet Fangs and the rest of their friends.
Ruthie makes Sweet Pea stand out in front of the school sign to take pictures in his graduation garb and her sunglasses. She snaps a few silly ones but doesn’t make Sweet Pea stop to take that many smiling pictures, knowing that after the ceremony and at the party he’d be having to run away from Maria and Atzi and their too-fancy cameras, who wanted to take pictures of the youngsters just as much as they needed their help with figuring out which buttons do what. Sweet Pea finds the Fogarty-Abrejo clan easily, giving Queenie a one-shouldered hug and slapping Fangs on the back, flicking around the blue frilled tassel hanging off his graduation cap. Maria and Atzi are doting on the two young men, going to pinch their cheeks and straighten their collars. Chimalma is lecturing Queenie about making sure she zipped up her blue graduation gown like the rest of the other students, still somehow unaware of the fact that the more she told her daughter not to do something, the more it made her want to do it. Ruthie raises her eyebrow at Queenie and the girl winks in return.
“One picture, you three, then I’ll leave you alone until later I promise” Ruthie holds up her phone and gestures for Sweet Pea, Queenie, and Fangs to all get together. The three squish together, giving cheesy smilies that will one day end up in a photo album with years worth of other cheesy smiles. Fangs is still a head shorter than both Sweet Pea and Queenie so he stands on the toes of his dress boots, smiling bigger than either one of them like it could make up for his lack of height. Sweet Pea hooks his long arms around his friends and pulls them close for one last picture and Queenie holds up her graduation cap to make sure it’s in frame, the picture of her father decorating the back of her cap watching over her protectively.
Last pictures were taken, collars were straightened and hair was smoothed down. Mr. Weatherbee makes the announcement that all graduating seniors needed to report to the area behind the gym for attendance, and that parents, families, and other distinguished guests could make their way to their seats. “See you on the other side, little brother” Ruthie gives Sweet Pea a wink as she holds the door open for the older women.
Riverdale High School’s graduation was like all high school graduation ceremonies in the way that it as both long and boring, incredibly drawn out by speeches from principals and vice-principles, esteemed faculty, and the class valedictorian. Betty Cooper delivers a moving speech about innocence and growth, stressing the importance of taking the time to be young and have fun, especially in a town that was plagued with so much heartache. There’s not a dry eye in the house when the young woman takes to addressing all of the trauma she and her fellow students had faced when Riverdale had them all in it’s clutches: “And it’s not fair that so many of our classmates aren’t here to walk with us today. And it’s not right that same of our parents aren’t here to watch those of us who are.” This strikes a chord in Ruthie and she can’t help but think what it would be like if Major Chase Lang Soh was here to watch his son walk the stage to get his diploma, or wonder how loud Pallaton Abrejo would whistle when his daughter’s name was called, smiling as Queenie’s blue silken robe billowed out behind her, (still unzipped, much to her mother’s dismay). Pallaton would tell Queenie that he was proud of her, and that he thought she was pretty damn cool for not wanting to blend in with the ranks of her peers.
“I wish Dante got to be here tonight” Ruthie leans over to whisper in Maria’s ear. The older woman pats her hand in response, a reaction that Ruthie thought was rather odd for Maria, but Ruthie chocks it up to her not wanting to be the rude people whispering. Apparently Dante was busy with some project over in Centerville, but Fangs had a graduation card coming in the mail and he promised he’d try to convince Spyder and CD to all drive down with him some weekend pretty soon. At least that’s what Dante told Ruthie on the phone a few days ago when he told her he wasn’t coming to graduation.
Everybody sits up a little taller in their chairs once student’s names started to be called, shifting in their cold metal seats and craning their necks to find where their loved ones were sitting amongst the masses of students. Ruthie claps politely for some of the names that she recognized, people that Sweet Pea talked about or hung out with, friends of Fangs and Queenie’s that she’d been introduced to at family parties and summer barbecues. For the most part Ruthie is pretty bored, reading through the flimsy paper program and wondering what it was like for everyone back when she graduated high school over at Southside High. Neither Ruthie nor Sweet Pea got to have their parents present at their high school graduation, but the Fogarty family never made them feel unwelcome or like anything less than family. They had cheered loudly when Ruthie’s name had been called, whistling and yelling when she walked across the stage. Dante and CD both laughed, watching Ruthie’s eye twitch as the principal called for Ruthann Soh-Peterson. There may have been a smaller number of people to watch Sweet Pea, Queenie, and Fangs graduate, but just because they weren’t loved widely it didn’t mean they weren’t loved deeply.
After Principal Weatherbee’s time at the Farm (Edgar Evernever’s poorly disguised cult), he got super progressive and made it a point to tell all of the seniors that on graduation day they could go by whatever their chosen name was, nicknames included. Ruthie and Sweet Pea had talked about it a few weeks ago at dinner, the merits of going by his given name for the first and only time in his high school career. “Why would I?” Sweet Pea had asked his sister, stabbing his fork into an unsuspecting chunk of broccoli. It was the last time the two brought it up.
Their three names are called sequentially; Queenie Abrejo, Fangs Fogarty, Sweet Pea Soh-Peterson. The uproar of cheers for Queenie, Fangs, and Sweet Pea was so loud that it paled every other family’s reaction in comparison. Ruthie whistled loudly, two fingers in her mouth. The rest of their big, blended family cheered and shouted loudly, clapping loudly and tapping canes against the polished gym floor. The ranks of polished Northside parents stick up their noses at the spectacle and go back to giving fake-polite golf claps. The rest of the ceremony goes by in a flurry of names, students in blue silk gowns walking across the stage to shake hands with Weatherbee and get their diplomas as quick as possible so they could do the cliche cap toss before getting the hell out of dodge, never having to set foot in the halls of Riverdale High School ever again. Atzi’s snoring on Maria’s shoulder and is startled awake by the thunderous applause after the final concluding words. “It’s over?”
When the ceremony is over it isn’t too hard to spot Sweet Pea through the crowd. Ruthie picks through the throng of people and runs at her brother with her arms wide open.
“You did it! Oh, my little high school graduate” Ruthie laughs, snaking her arms around Sweet Pea’s middle and pulling him into a crushing hug.
“Little?” Queenie raises her eyebrow, smirking over at Ruthie as she finally shucks off her graduation robe, handing it off to her little sister who didn’t mind wearing it.
“I’m so proud of you” Ruthie says, releasing her grip on her brother. “I’m so proud of all three of you, you did it!”
“Yeah we did!” Sweet Pea says, hooking his arm around Fangs’s shoulder as the group trailed back to the car.
~~~
The pageantry of Graduation Day was for the parents, everyone knew this. But the graduation party was for everyone else, one of the more enjoyable rights of passage after finishing high school. That was the part Sweet Pea was excited for. After the ceremony he tosses his cap and gown in the backseat of his sister’s car and loosens his tie before Ruthie can even start the engine. The drive back to the Southside is comfortably quiet, like both Sweet Pea and Ruthie needed a moment to recharge their batteries before the festivities. Ruthie pulls the car into the driveway, gravel crunching under her tires, and soon the two of them are barreling up the front steps. Sweet Pea holds out his hand for Ruthie’s keys and unlocks the door quickly, like he couldn’t bare to be in his nice clothes a minute more.
“I won’t make you wear a tie but can you dress up a little? For the pictures?” Ruthie asks, yelling from the kitchen as she gathers up any last minute things she needed to bring over to the Fogarty’s. “Something with sleeves, perhaps?” The sarcasm in her voice is palpable and Sweet Pea laughs as he trades his dress shirt for something that felt a little bit more like him.
The siblings are in and out of their house in record time and Ruthie lets Sweet Pea drive her car the short distance to the Fogarty’s while she sits in the passenger’s seat, clutching onto the crockpot for dear life. There’s already a dull roar emanating from the backyard; someone was bringing a big setup of speakers and Queen had been crafting the perfect playlist for weeks. No one bothers to knock on the front door because it’s never locked any ways. Ruthie immediately gets pulled into the kitchen by Atzi, who thrusts an apron at her before she continued her mission to make more counter space.
“Go find your friends,” Ruthie calls over her shoulder to her brother. “Just remember that you owe me pictures!”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember…” Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and goes to sample one of the hors d’oeuvres but Atzi smacks his hand away with her trusty spatula.
The party continues and more kids show up, all connected to Fangs, Queenie, or Sweet Pea in some way or another. It’s loud and it’s rowdy in the way that parties at the Fogarty house always seemed to get. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and dancing, but the general sentiment among everyone was that they missed Dante’s presence among the family and that they all wished that he’d been able to stop by. Maria and Atzi had been surprisingly tight-lipped about the whole thing and Ruthie was starting to think there might had been some kind of falling out.
Ruthie leans in close to Atzi, who was stirring a bubbling pot of sauce on the stove, seemingly in her own little world. “Did Maria and Dante have an argument or something? Is that why he didn’t show up tonight?”
Atzi glances up at Ruthie and smiles wryly, like all old women who held lots of secrets often did. “Nothing of the sorts, my girl!” She tosses the kitchen towel over her shoulder and goes back to flitting around the kitchen, stirring this and that, making sure nothing burned or bubbled over. “You’re looking a little dehydrated, hon, why don’t you go out into the garage and get yourself something to drink?”
Ruthie doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the eye or if Atzi winked at her. She tries not to take offense to the comment, having thickened her skin after years of “helpful” comments from the people around her. Ruthie was just happy to be relieved of kitchen duty for a little while. Wiping her hands on a towel, Ruthie makes her way into the Fogarty’s garage and to the outside refrigerator to grab herself a soda. She paws through the bottles and cans on the shelves trying to find something but she doesn’t hear the side door open, nor does she hear the familiar footfalls as they approach her.
Ruthie turns around and is startled when she find herself face to face with none other than Dante Fogarty. “Oh!” Ruthie exclaims, her soda can slipping from her hands and rolling out of sight. “Oh, I thought you weren’t coming!” She starts toward Dante and flings her arms around his neck to bring him in for a hug that was long overdue.
“I wouldn’t miss this” Dante says, rubbing his large hand over his best friend’s back. “I’m his graduation present, you know?”
“Your ass had better come with a gift receipt then” Ruthie laughs and gives Dante a playful shove before laughing into an animated rant about how mad she was at him for making her sit through that boring-ass, long-ass graduation ceremony by herself. The two of them want to kill a few minutes talking. Hell, Dante and Ruthie would hide in the garage for the whole party if they could. It wouldn’t be the first time. Dante fills Ruthie in on how everything is going in Centerville. She asks follow up questions about CD and Spyder, laughs as Dante marvels about how good the food from their cousins’s food truck is. Ruthie tells Dante about her new promotion to shift leader at the Elderly Services Department of Riverdale General Hospital. Dante talks at length about his girlfriend Valentina, smiling in a way that Ruthie thought looked good on him. But no matter how much they talked about the present (or the future), it was hard not to be nostalgic for the past, especially tonight.
“Man, your ass was miserable at your graduation party” Dante chuckled, glancing over at Ruthie. He leans against Maria’s old boat of a car that was forever in the garage atop cement blocks. “I’m pretty sure you stood outside and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes until Romeo forced you to come and socialize with everyone”
“Yeah cause it was my graduation party, it was Angel’s and I was just tacked on” Ruthie finds a beer in the refrigerator and uncaps it, her lost soda can long forgotten.
Dante thinks back to the moment before he agrees. “You might be right” He thinks about it some more, remembering the debacle. “You’re onto something there, Ruth.”
When the two of them decide that they had hidden away for long enough, Ruthie sneaks a cigarette to buy just a minute more before dragging Dante inside and into the kitchen. “Hey look who I found!” She calls out loudly, trying to get people’s attention over the music and the conversation. The Abuelas, no longer having to be tight-lipped about Dante’s secret arrival, grabbed his face and kissed his cheeks, giving him spoon and forkfuls of almost-done food that needed tasting. Fangs hears the commotion from outside where he, Sweet Pea, Queenie, and Mabel had all teamed up for beer pong so he opens the screen door, poking his head inside.
“Dante, you made it!” Fangs exclaims happily as he sees his older brother sampling the appetizers that Maria made. He rushes into the kitchen to give Dante a hug and giving him a brotherly slap on the back.
“Aw c’mon, you know I’d never miss something like this!” Dante slings his arm around Fangs’s shoulder and walks back towards the backyard “Now who’s up on the BP table, I want next game!”
~~~
The party persists most of the evening. The Beer Pong tournament ends up being a big debacle, with family and friends gathering around to watch it all unfold. Dante and Fangs played against Ruthie and Sweet Pea. They win the game but Sweet Pea swears that they cheated so he insists on a rematch, only to lose once again. Ruthie and Dante play against Sweet Pea and Fangs and they win again, so by that time everyone’s teasing Sweet Pea about his bad aim. Everyone poses for pictures way longer than they actually wanted to. There was pictures of the graduates, of them and their friends, pictures of the Abrejo family, the Fogarty’s, and the Soh-Peterson siblings. Maria wanted pictures of Ruthie, Sweet Pea, Dante, and Fangs, pictures of her with each of her grandchildren. By the time the cameras are put away everyone’s cheeks hurt and they’re seeing spots from the bright flash against the dark evening sky. Everyone eats twice as much food as they should have, and Maria was already promising to send people home with Tupperware dishes filled with leftovers. Queenie and Mabel sneak slices of the big bakery cake before Chimalma was ready to cut it so they spend the next twenty minutes out front sitting on the curb trying to avoid her motherly wrath. She was still on the warpath about her daughter being the “Only girl in the entire graduating class who didn’t zip up her gown like she was supposed to,” as if that were a supposed to be a bad thing.
Ruthie shakes her head, smiling to herself as she watches Sweet Pea try to shake off Maria, who was following him around the yard with another plate of food and yelling about how “You two boys need to put some meat on your bones before we send you off to college!” Sweet Pea goes to sit by the fire pit, away from Maria and her constant comments. Dante’s roasting marshmallows, eternally determined to piss off Elena by getting Daisy all hopped up on sugar after feeding her s’mores. Ruthie puffs along happily on her cigarette, a healthy distance aware from the rest of the partygoers (Sweet Pea had already come up to her once that evening, pulling a cigarette out of her mouth and grinding it into the dirt under the toe of his big boots). She watches over the party carefully, thinking about how time has passed and how everyone has grown.
“You warm enough over here?” Ruthie asks, her hand coming to rest on Sweet Pea’s shoulder as she approaches where he’s sitting by the fire pit.
He jumps a little, dropping the long wooden stick he was using to prod at the fire logs. “I’m fine” He replies with an eye roll.
Ruthie sits down heavily in one of the plastic lawn chairs than were posited throughout the yard, but loses her balance because of a wobbly, weathered leg. She laughs loudly as he recovers, her blood pumping in her ears. “You don’t have to be so grumpy about it” She teases, bumping his knee with her own.
“I’m not being grumpy!” Sweet Pea retorts, clearly still on edge from Maria’s overbearing attention and affection.
“Is it because you’re cold?” Ruthie raises an eyebrow at her not-so-little brother, already knowing his answer.
“I just graduated high school, Ruth, you don’t have to treat me like I’m some baby…” Sweet Pea shoes his head and brings his long-necked bottle of beer to his lips, taking a hearty sip.
“Oh but you’re always gonna be my little baby!” Ruthie coos with fake, overbearing sweetness and goes to ruffle Sweet Pea’s hair in the annoying yet endearing way that only older sisters seem to have mastered.
Sweet Pea’s scowl breaks into a smile and he rolls his eyes, letting his sister muss up his hair and dote on him just a little longer. He slides his arm around her shoulders and revels in her body heat and the familiar, comforting smell of her lavender shampoo.
“So what do you wanna do with your last summer before college, kid?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it, honestly.” Sweet Pea muses. “Need to find a job so I have a little bit of rent money saved up.” He always thought practically, tethered to the tangible things he needed in order to get by in life. It might have been a trait he picked up from Ruthie, actually.
“You have all summer to work” Ruthie looks over at her younger brother. “You gotta do something fun this summer, okay? Me and you, we’ll go somewhere just us.”
Sweet Pea laughs, his brows creased in both confusion and amusement. “Okay…where are we gonna go?”
“Anywhere…I mean, anywhere my car can get us. Or maybe we rent a car and go up the coast, spend a week at the beach before I send you off to the real world.”
“Sounds nice” Sweet Pea nods in agreement, staring into the fire. “What about the money though, Ruth? A trip like this sounds expensive.”
“You don’t have to worry about the money, kid.” Ruthie sighs, and for the first time in a long time she actually means that. “You deserve way more than this, okay? It’s the least I can do. Nothing’s set in stone now so just promise me you’ll think on it, okay?”
Sweet Pea nods. “I promise”
“I love you, and I’m so proud of you” Ruthie says firmly, as to make sure there was no way for Sweet Pea to slither in and discredit himself and his experiences.
The two siblings sit like that in front of the fire for a while, limbs tangled together, both too old to be twisting their bodies to accommodate for the other’s needed space. Ruthie gives Sweet Pea a rare, quick kiss on his forehead and the two siblings untangle themselves, laughing about who’s old rocket chair would break first. Things get quiet again for a little, just like the party had, bit after a few minutes Sweet Pea speaks up,
“Hey Ruth?” He hesitates, sounding somewhat embarrassed.
“Hmm?”
“Where’s my jacket?” Sweet Pea asks, wincing, already prepared for his sister’s onslaught of I-told-you-so’s.
Ruthie’s eyes blink open quickly, her facing having been turned towards the warmth of the fire that cracked and rippled with every gust of the evening wind. “In the trunk of my car” She laughs, tossing him her keys. Sweet Pea fumbles the catch because of his cold hands and walks towards the car, rubbing his hands over his arms.
“That boy’s gonna be absolutely lost without you” Dante laughs, rounding the fire pit and sitting down.
Ruthie shakes her head and disagrees. “I think he’s gonna be just fine.”
#little brother! sweet pea#sweet pea x ruthie#sweet pea x oc#riverdale sweet pea#sweet pea imagine#oc: ruthie soh peterson#oc: literally ALL of lou's are mentioned#and some of vannah's
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Huaisang’s Hit List
or, how I learned to stop worrying and love my cursed dick
Technically Huaisang never slept with Wen Chao, just...spent a few minutes extricating himself from what turned out to be that awful murder-tortoise cave adventure. And anyway, it doesn’t matter because Wen Chao wasn’t on The List. The List was the problem. Is the problem.
Remember that Top Cultivator’s list? You know the one, the one where the Twin Jades were the two most eligible cultivators and Wei Wuxian was ranked higher than Jiang Cheng?
Yeah, that was Huaisang’s fault. But no one regrets it more than he does.
Except maybe all the dead people.
Read more Kristina Writes Tiny Stories
Notes:
Sort of explicit, and there’s definitely some terribly silly cursed sex acts.
If you want to read it on AO3 instead, you can do that too!
Many thanks to @coslyons and AO3′s mongrelmind and effienell who probably will regret being tagged. Read their fantastic work instead of this absolute travesty.
⟹ ⟸ ⟹ ⟸ ⟹ ⟸ ⟹ ⟸ ⟹ ⟸
In hindsight, Huaisang should have realized way before the Wei Wuxian Incident that he was cursed. But to be fair, people die all the time.
He should know. He has personally killed eight people with his cursed dick.
“So,” Jiang Cheng says, hands tucked under his head, staring up at the sky, “You’re telling me that everyone you have sex with dies. And therefore, you must be killing them?”
“More or less, yes.”
“Isn’t that a little…” Jiang Cheng pauses and kicks the water his feet are dangling in, apparently trying for once in his life to be tactful, which makes Huaisang even more miserable. If Jiang Cheng is being tactful, it must be the end of the world. “Conceited?”
Huaisang pulls another leaf off the branch he is mutilating. He really doesn’t think he’s ever been conceited. Conceited would imply a lack of justification, and he is quite sure he’s right about this.
“A-Cheng, I have evidence. Hard evidence.”
Jiang Cheng chokes a little, and Huaisang glares at him. “Could you not? This is serious. I am never going to have sex again.”
Jiang Cheng chokes again, this time gasping with pained laughter, and Huaisang throws the branch at him. “Fuck you a-Cheng.”
“Thank all the gods you never have!” Jiang Cheng is howling now, curled in a ball and wheezing, and Huaisang has never been so insulted in his life.
Huaisang gathers what remains of his dignity and stands. He doesn’t care how beautiful Lotus Pier is in summer, or how many different shades of pink the flowers blanketing the lakes are, or how wickedly indulgent the sun feels through only two layers of robes, he is going to walk back down this dock and leave.
“Oh sit down, you big baby.” Jiang Cheng grabs the hem of Huaisang’s green robe. “I know you’re just dying to tell me about your ‘hard evidence’ and as much as I would rather rather erase all knowledge of your sex life from…”
Jiang Cheng's utter inability to disguise any thought he has is a gift, Huaisang thinks. Not only does it mean that in almost twenty years, Huaisang has never lost a game of weiqi, it also means he knows the moment it occurs to Jiang Cheng exactly what he means. Or rather...who.
“You. Did not. Fuck. My brother.”
Huaisang glares at a pair of ducks flying noisily overhead—those bastards were probably using their wings to escape awkward conversations—and silently bemoans his sudden and inexplicable flirtation with honesty. Why precisely had he wanted to share the details of his humiliating curse with Jiang Cheng? He frowns down at Sandu Shengshou’s tight, angry slash of a mouth, crackling dark eyes, cheekbones that could slice open his fingers if he ran them over the ridges…
Oh yes. That was why.
“Well, not first,” Huaisang says, deciding that if he’s in for a piglet, he’s in for a hog. “What happened first was Wen Xu.”
Jiang Cheng rolls into the lake. Huaisang is speechless. As rude escapes from his presence go, it is unprecedented. Wen Xu only snuck out of the window.
⟹ ⟸
Huaisang wasn’t biting his lip because he was nervous. That would be preposterous. He wasn’t a virgin after all. But he had also never picked anyone up in a tavern...well, certainly not a tavern in Hejian...okay, definitely not anyone at a tavern in Hejian as spectacularly handsome as the man whose name he couldn’t recall and really didn’t care about currently stripping in front of…
He lost his train of thought when—what was his name...Yang...Tian...something about the sun—threw his undershirt on the ground and looked expectantly at Huaisang, flexing the outrageous muscles on his chest just enough to make Huaisang’s blood boil. Yes, oh yes, he was definitely going to bite Sun Man right over the top of his left nipple immediately. And then he was going to make Sun Man beg for mercy. He stepped forward, his mouth stretching wide in a practiced seductive smile, and everything went wrong.
Sun Man stepped forward too, eyes closing, an arrogant tilt to his mouth. Huaisang tried to avoid the kiss—who kissed a stranger in an inn?—but he avoided to the left, and Sun Man lurched to the left. Like a slow motion fall off a cliff, they crashed into each other, arms and legs flailing everywhere. Sun Man’s head smacked into Huaisang’s chin, and worse, Huaisang’s knee collided with the soft—well, not that soft, some distant, smug corner of his brain noted—flesh between the man’s legs. He grunted in pain, grabbed Huaisang, and they fell on the floor in a fairly uncomfortable heap.
Fuck. Well, there goes that, Huaisang thought. Another thrilling night listening to da-ge rant about the damn Wen dogs loomed in his future.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Sun Man said immediately, sprawled on top of Huaisang, and Huaisang realized he meant it, judging by the considerably less soft space between his legs that was currently pressed against Huaisang’s hip.
He cheered immediately. Sun Man liked being hurt. It wasn’t a great start, but he could work with that.
Yes, he thought, as he slapped Sun Man hard on his spectacular ass and Sun Man let out a hearty moan, he could work with this.
Later, history books would describe da-ge as glorious in battle, cutting through the Wen army to the Wen heir, knocking the arrogant smile off his face and the man off his horse, laughing when he begged for mercy and dismembering his body as a lesson to the others, all to the triumphant cheers of the combined army.
What the history books did not mention was da-ge dramatically throwing the head on the ground at Huaisang’s feet in the music room.
“I will take his head to Xichen,” da-ge announced proudly, and Huaisang winced. How could anyone be so bad at romantic gifts?
He looked down despite himself—it had been almost a week since da-ge had thrown a Wen body part on the floor—and gasped.
Huaisang tried to look away from Sun Man in time but in the grand tradition of brothers everywhere, da-ge was unfailingly observant at the worst possible times.
“Huaisang, what did you do?”
Nothing, Huaisang thought, snapping his fan open and trying to blink the hysterical laughter away. Just spanked the daylights out of Wen Xu the night before he died. Just made him cry and climax and collapse in snoring exhaustion before Huaisang had a chance to finish any kind of reciprocal satisfaction, the bastard. And then just watched him climb out of the window before dawn. He sighs. What a wasted night.
“Nothing, da-ge. It’s just...he’s leaking on the floor.”
Da-ge grunted and rolled the head out of the room with his foot.
“I was expecting it to last longer, honestly,” da-ge said, and Huaisang thought, me too. “He seemed spent before we even started.”
Huaisang covered his giggle with a sympathetic cough. “How disappointing for you, da-ge.”
“The thing is,” da-ge continued, eyes sharpening in a very worrisome way. “I noticed a distinctive shade of lip color on his neck, right before I separated it from his body. Almost...like...the mauve you’re wearing right now.”
“This is raisin,” Huaisang snapped before he could help himself and then cringed. He was in so much trouble.
But instead, da-ge sank into a chair laughing. “You could have just drugged him, Huaisang. You didn’t have to fuck him. Next time, tell me before you decide to single handedly give our enemy the serpent’s kiss?”
Huaisang decided to take credit for the tactical fucking, but did not want to be assigned any future war jobs, hand, blow, or otherwise.
“I am not having sex with any more Wens,” he said virtuously, sitting in a chair across from his brother. He did not appreciate the roar of laughter.
⟹ ⟸
“Oh gods, how many more Wens did you have sex with?” Jiang Cheng demands, wringing out his dripping hair next to the hearth fire in the kitchen. “The whole army? Wen Ruohan? Truly, you are the unsung hero of the Sunshot campaign. We should have made you chief cultivator.”
“First of all, I would be a phenomenal chief cultivator, thank you.” Huaisang throws a towel at Jiang Cheng, whacking him on the side of the head, but Jiang Cheng just grins charmingly, the wretch. “Second of all, none of course.”
Technically he never slept with Wen Chao, just...spent a few minutes extricating himself from what turned out to be that awful murder-tortoise cave adventure. And anyway, it doesn’t matter because Wen Chao wasn’t on The List. The List was the problem. Is the problem.
Jiang Cheng twists his hair into a knot on the top of his head and starts stripping off his wet clothes.
“Okay, so then you slept with my brother?”
Huaisang slumps in a chair and stares at the carved ceiling, not looking, not looking, not looking. Pretty, he thinks, focusing very diligently on the wood. It looks like a giant lotus flower.
“No, only the number sixes at first,” Huaisang mumbles, wondering if the splotchy paint marks on the carving are actually tiny lotus flowers. If so, he really has to admire how committed the Yunmeng Jiang are to the aesthetic.
Suddenly Jiang Cheng’s face is next to his face, his hands on the arm of the chair, and he looks angry again. Wet and angry. Like a scandalously unrobed cat that just crawled out of a well—Huaisang fumbles the metaphor, too distracted by Jiang Cheng’s chest.
“Are you talking about that plague of a ‘most eligible cultivators’ list? If I ever find out who ruined my life with that list, I am going to tie them to something very hard and beat them within an inch of their life,” he growls, and Huaisang is afraid he might be a little turned on by that. He tries something. A sort of experiment.
“I made the list.”
Jiang Cheng turns white, the blood draining instantly from his face. His eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and Huaisang decides that yes, indeed, he is terrified and aroused. He really does learn something new about himself every day.
“You asshole,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Why?”
“I don’t remember,” he lies. “Maybe I was bored. Maybe it was a list of people I wanted to be friends with.” It was certainly not a list of people he and Meng Yao had wanted to see naked. Not at all.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t move. If anything, his nose gets a little closer to Huaisang’s nose. Tantalizingly within biting distance.
“It was a sex list, wasn’t it,” he accuses, entirely unfairly in Huaisang’s opinion. But then he frowns. “Your brother was on that list. That’s...a bit much, even for you.”
Huaisang sticks out his tongue, almost licking Jiang Cheng. Wisely, Jiang Cheng jumps back, protecting his precious nose with his hand.
“Okay, that was Zewu-Jun’s fault! He found out that da-ge wasn’t on the list and he looked so sad. You know how he is! ‘But Mingjue-xiong is so handsome and kind. Why wouldn’t he be considered the most eligible cultivator? You know I have no interest in such worldly things, but oh, woe, life has been too cruel to my dear, dear friend Mingjue-xiong.’” Huaisang knows he does a killer Lan-zongzhu impression, and Jiang Cheng’s mouth twitches at the corners.
“Fine. You didn’t fuck your brother. Good for you. Go ahead, tell me who you did kill. Since I apparently can’t stop you.”
“I didn’t know I was doing it, a-Cheng. I wouldn’t kill people on purpose.”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t hesitate to reassure him.
“Of course you would.”
Huaisang is friends with Jiang Cheng for this exact reason: because he is the kind of friend who would steal chickens and bury bodies with you and not judge or ask questions.
Jiang Cheng freezes, closes his eyes, and asks a very judgmental question. “Don’t tell me you were responsible for Jin Zixuan too?”
Huaisang winces. “Not...only.”
⟹ ⟸
“So you’re second cousins,” Huaisang asked, drinking another cup of the finest wine he can afford, and staring at Jin Zixuan’s increasingly handsome face, already a work of art.
Naturally, it was the other one who answered, because nothing was easy today except for Huaisang.
“No, his mother’s sister’s husband’s sister is my mother. They were married in the same ancestral hall as my mother’s brother’s wife’s brother, though, and....”
Huaisang didn’t give two fucks about Jin Zixun droning on about his relations, but he liked the flush on Jin Zixuan’s cheeks when he caught Huaisang staring at him. He’d had two bottles of wine, and he seemed to be one of those drunks who got quieter and quieter until he fell over. Huaisang wanted to catch him.
He had found Jin Zixuan in Yudao Tang, looking at the map of the Sunshot Campaign without da-ge, and although he was fairly sure it was innocent, he was also fairly sure da-ge would absolutely qi deviate if anyone touched his little metal horses and toy soldiers. He was just going to shoo him away, but Jin Zixuan, the third most eligible cultivator, had given him A Curious Look, and Huaisang had shifted tactics with a military precision he thinks would even have impressed his da-ge.
“You’ve been working so hard, Jin-gongzi,” Huaisang said, testing out Jin Zixuan’s bicep with a soft and gentle squeeze that lingered long enough to promise something hard and rough. “Let’s go share a bottle or two to loosen up for the night.”
He hadn’t even realized the other one was there.
“You’re too generous Nie Huaisang! We accept your offer,” crowed the unwanted Jin, whose name Huaisang was unwillingly informed was Zixun.
So now Huaisang was sitting in an inn in Hejian trying to get Jin Zixun pass-out drunk faster than Jin Zixuan. It wasn’t working. The man had a hollow leg. Possibly two hollow legs. Definitely a hollow brain. But then he felt a hand on his knee, and Jin Zixuan was looking at him from under eyelashes as long and thick as butterfly wings.
“Would you like to leave?” he asked quietly, and Huaisang could not have been more relieved than if he had been plucked from the coils of a liangren she.
“Yes please,” he whispered under Jin Zixun’s droning. “You go first. I’ll follow.”
Jin Zixuan stood gracefully, only swayed a little, and was up the stairs before Jin Zixun had completely explained the intimate details of his mother’s sister’s son’s wedding tea service. Huaisang endured the description of osmanthus cakes for two whole minutes before he laughed loudly, interrupting Boring Cousin.
“Stop! I need to relieve myself and I can’t bear to miss one single detail! Wait right here and I’ll be back.”
Jin Zixun looked disappointed to be robbed of an audience even for a heartbeat, but he stayed, and Huaisang fled.
He found Jin Zixuan waiting in the doorway of his room, and he didn’t waste another second. Pushing Jin Zixuan onto the bed, Huaisang practically launched himself at the man, kissing him viciously, thrilled when Jin Zixuan groaned and locked his hand around the back of Huaisang’s head. He looked rumpled and flushed, and he tasted like heat and honey. Absolutely delicious. Huaisang didn’t understand why Wei Wuxian didn’t like Jin Zixuan. Probably because he’d never bitten the skin at the base of his throat or heard how sweetly he moaned when Huaisang got his pants down and started to stroke him, sliding his hand expertly along the smooth curve.
“There you go sweetheart,” Huaisang encouraged, when Jin Zixuan reached between Huaisang’s legs and finally wrapped those long, thin, elegant fingers around his shaft. He was exactly what Huaisang had hoped: beautiful, strong, and eager, if a little unskilled.
And then Huaisang heard the worst sound he had ever heard in his life.
“Fuck, this is hot,” Jin Zizun slurred from the door. “I want to join.”
⟹ ⟸
“And then he did, a-Cheng,” Huaisang whines, taking a bite out of the dumpling Jiang Cheng hands him. “It was the worst.”
Jiang Cheng looks unsympathetic. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you done detailing how you fucked my brother-in-law and his abhorrent cousin to death? I tuned out somewhere around the extremely comprehensive description of my sister’s father’s daughter’s husband’s dick, which I could have lived my whole life without hearing.”
“You asked,” Huaisang points out.
“‘Yes’ or ‘no’ would have been sufficient,” Jiang Cheng retorts.
Huaisang hadn’t considered that.
“Oh. Um, yes. I was responsible for Jin Zixuan. And Jin Zixun, although I didn’t mean to be. And...um...Ouyang Xi and Yao Shui. They were both number sixes. Ouyang Xi was the only girl I ever put on the list. Remember her? She was amazing.”
Jiang Cheng sits back, thinking. “Wasn’t she taller than Hanguang-Jun?” When Huaisang nods, Jiang Cheng whistles appreciatively. “Oh yeah, I remember her. She was something. I can’t even be mad about that one.”
He seems to realize how that sounded and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous. You aren’t killing people. They died in the war. They died because they were assholes. They died because people die. That’s not proof.”
Huaisang does not want to tell him about Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian is proof.
“It was twice with Wei Wuxian. And he died twice. Once his heart. Once his life. That’s when I realized, and that’s when I stopped having sex.”
Jiang Cheng’s mouth drops open a little and he stares at Huaisang, obviously dumbfounded, probably horrified. Finally, Huaisang thinks, Jiang Cheng doesn’t have anything sarcastic to say.
“I am so mad at you right now,” he finally replies, and Huaisang shrinks. “Once you realized, why the fuck didn’t you sleep with Hanguang-Jun? You could have made my life so much easier. Gods, Huaisang, you are never thinking about me.”
Huaisang’s mind spins futilely, a dog chasing its tail, but he finally processes Jiang Cheng’s sparkling eyes, the slightly raised left eyebrow, and the extremely provoking way he is biting his lip as “teasing.” Huaisang expects his eyes to stop there, but the traitors keep going, looking at Jiang Cheng’s muscular chest, disappointingly garbed in dry clothes, his long legs stretched out in front of him…no! Focus on being truthful! His mind—okay possibly not his mind—objects to both truthfulness and not ogling Jiang Cheng but he perseveres.
“You...you aren’t angry? About Wei Wuxian?”
Jiang Cheng shrugs. “He’s alive now. What can I change about the past? And I’m not sure I want to hear any,” he pokes Huaisang in the chest, “ANY details about whatever you two did.”
Huaisang thinks about Wei Wuxian at sixteen, full of sunshine and curiosity, kneeling in front of him in the woods behind Cloud Recesses, and he thinks of Wei Wuxian during Sunshot, his jagged edges so beautiful and sharp, begging Huaisang to tighten the rope a little more, hurt him a little more, distract him a little more.
“Nope, nope, see, that face is exactly what I don’t want to hear,” Jiang Cheng interrupts. “Not a word, Huaisang. Not a word.”
He leans forward and pours more wine into Huaisang’s cup. “Look, just stop making the list and you’ll be fine. You can go back to doing whatever, whoever, you want.”
“I did! I haven’t been in charge of the list for years! For a while, no one was updating it, and then I handed it over to Jingyi, oh, about a year before Wei Wuxian came back, but...it still works.”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes roll back so hard, so long, Huaisang hopes they get stuck. “I assume you know because you tested it personally. I compliment the rigorous dedication to checking your theory, Huaisang.”
Huaisang sniffs. That poor Zhao girl (an exceptional number seven—Huaisang couldn’t argue with Jingyi’s taste, at least) had died horribly, he thinks, falling from her sword after a tragic mid-air goose collision.
“Well, I had to check, because…” If he is ever going to face a consequence, Huaisang thinks, today is the day. “For once, I wanted to use it.”
And then he waits for the dao to fall.
⟹ ⟸
Huaisang had planned of course, planned for years. Found evidence. Found witnesses. Found proof. But nothing was as good as a sure thing. So he would do this distasteful thing to ensure that no matter what happened, no matter how it happened, his plan would succeed.
Winning was so close he could taste it, like salty tears, like bitter fruit. It was a taste he remembered well.
“San-ge,” he sobbed, drinking his wine and immediately burning off the alcohol, “I just don’t know what to do. I’m going to die alone.”
Jin Guangyao, who Huaisang never thought of san-ge in his mind anymore, looked a little annoyed, but Huaisang poured him another cup of Emperor’s Smile, and his brother’s murderer relaxed.
“A-Sang,” he said in a patronizing tone, as though he was so much older and more mature than Huaisang. “We can visit another matchmaker and try again.”
“Noooooo,” Huaisang wailed. “I just can’t. It won’t help. You must have advice. What can I do to make a woman love me?”
There it was. The flinch. Huaisang loved the flinch. The flinch was winning. He gleefully drove the sword in deeper.
“Oh no, I’m a fool,” he moaned, with a dramatic sniffle, drying his tears and touching the back of Jin Guangyao’s hand, the lightest feather, only the tip of his finger grazing one knuckle. “I’m being selfish. This is such terrible timing, with everything that’s happened. I’m just so lonely. I miss…”
Huaisang sighed and turned away morosely, watching Jin Guangyao out of the corner of his eye. He really wasn’t as good at hiding his reactions as he thought he was. For instance, he bit the inside of his lip the way he always did when he was thinking of the past. And his eyes shifted to the right the way they always did when he was about to lie, so Huaisang beat him to the punch, pouring more wine. Four bottles down.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure you never think about...well...you know.” He let his eyelashes flutter. Jin Guangyao looked a little alarmed, so Huaisang ratcheted the flutter back to a flicker. “But it was the best time of my life,” Huaisang said with a wistful jab, adding a twist of longing, and the thrust hit home.
“Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao said, sounding a little like he was drunk and a lot like he was weakening. “That was a long time ago.”
Huaisang was aware. He was aware that Meng Yao was never on The List, so sleeping with him never counted. He was aware that it was, perhaps, a bit callous to put a man whose wife died two days ago on a list of most eligible bachelors but he is Jin-zongzhu and chief cultivator. It would honestly be a crime not to include him.
“Maybe...maybe tonight I could help you and you could help me? Think of it as therapeutic catharsis, a-Yao.” Huaisang suggested, this time touching Jin Guangyao’s knee, and, when he got no objection, sliding his hand up further.
This is no worse than Su She, he reminded himself. Actually, a lot less worse, he decided, remembering the flash of raw meat that was Su She’s chest with a repressed shudder. He definitely can’t think about that, or he won’t even be able to coax The Cursed One into working order.
“Sang-er,” Jin Guangyao whispered, and Huaisang knew he’d won.
In more ways than one.
⟹ ⟸
Huaisang can’t tell what the look on Jiang Cheng’s face means.
“Ha!” Jiang Cheng shouts, and then tips sideways onto the couch laughing.
No, laughing is a polite word for polite people. Jiang Cheng is braying, quite a bit like Wei Wuxian’s donkey. It is frankly, very unbecoming behavior for a sect leader.
“You sound like Lil’ Apple,” Huaisang says crossly, and Jiang Cheng laughs harder, falling on the ground at Huaisang’s feet.
“You named your dick ‘The Cursed One’? No wonder it hates you. I’d hate you too. Here’s a suggestion. Try naming it something nice!”
“Oh, like ‘Princess?’”
Jiang Cheng shuts up.
But not for long. Never for long. The only person who shuts up less than Huaisang is Jiang Cheng. Huaisang considers himself a model of restraint compared to Jiang Cheng.
“What if you just kiss someone? Does that kill them?”
Huaisang eyes Jiang Cheng suspiciously, but he is sitting up, not laughing, and looks genuinely curious.
“My lips aren’t cursed.”
Jiang Cheng nods slowly. “That makes sense.”
“It does?”
“Not really, but I’m trying to be supportive of your bout with insanity. What happens if you have sex with people who aren’t on the list?”
“Nothing. But I never know who is on the list anymore. Jingyi and Sizhui are very protective of it. I don’t think they trust me not to tell anyone they write it.”
Jiang Cheng gives him a disbelieving look. “I can’t imagine why.”
Huaisang can’t either. It is a very unfilial lack of faith in his well-proven ability to keep secrets.
“Well, I guess if it’s the only way you’ll ever have sex again, I’m willing to sacrifice myself,” Jiang Cheng announces, holding out his arms and wiggling his hips suggestively. “Come and get it, Huaisang. I’m sorry, but this is your best, no, your only option.”
Huaisang kicks Jiang Cheng’s foot viciously. “You are so mean, a-Cheng, and it doesn’t help, because you’re still on the list, okay? Stupid Jingyi and his stupid crush. You’re number three now.”
Jiang Cheng grins so broadly, Huaisang hates him. Hates him a lot. Stupid, vain, irritating Jiang Cheng. He can’t remember why they’re friends. He can’t remember why he likes him.
“That’s so sweet! I knew I liked that kid for a reason. I should invite him over for tea sometime.”
Huaisang pops to his feet. “You go right ahead. I’m leaving.”
As fast as a striking snake, Jiang Cheng sits up and grabs Huaisang around the waist, pulling him down, startling a squeak out of Huaisang as he lands on Jiang Cheng’s lap.
“You idiot,” Jiang Cheng tells Huaisang fondly, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Have you ever tried having sex with anyone on the list who isn’t a fragile flower? Or who thought you were worth risking a little death for? Maybe you aren’t cursed. Maybe you just have terrible taste.”
He kisses Huaisang, so gently and tenderly, eyes closed, nose rubbing Huaisang’s cheek, and it is nothing like Huaisang expected, but it does feel a little like something breaks. Maybe it’s the curse. Maybe it’s the brittle ice around his heart that formed when da-ge died. Whatever it is, he can’t be bothered to think about it. He kisses Jiang Cheng back with everything he’s wanted to say since the day they met.
“Wait!”
Jiang Cheng wrenches away and glares at Huaisang. “Number three? Three? I can understand two, because ugh, Xichen, but who else could possibly be more eligible than me?”
“Cheng-gege, I’m probably just remembering wrong. You know how I am with details. I’m sure you’re second,” Huaisang soothes, wanting to return to the kissing part without having to tell Jiang Cheng that er-ge had put his foot down a long time ago about being on the list. It is actually his nephew who is number two and Ouyang Zizhen who is number one. He doesn’t think Jiang Cheng will see the humor in it.
“That’s true, you do have an atrocious memory,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “For instance, you seem to have forgotten that you spent the entire afternoon detailing your exploits with half the cultivation world.”
Huaisang’s thought process is somewhat compromised, and he can’t make himself connect Jiang Cheng’s words with the feel of his hands, those wide, strong hands cupping Huaisang’s ass.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, tipping his head back and letting Jiang Cheng nibble a path down his neck. “They were all terrible. I do not recommend any of them, especially not the dead ones.”
Jiang Cheng laughs, a rumbling sound that makes Huaisang’s fingers fumble at the lotus clasp on his belt.
“I didn’t hate it, but we’re going to start a new list, Sang-er, called ‘Huaisang’s Best Sex,’ and I am going to be the ony person on it,” Jiang Cheng informs Huaisang, biting his earlobe.
“It’s not…” Huaisang kisses Jiang Cheng’s exquisite collarbone, having cleverly freed him from his robes, “...a list if…” Huaisang wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng’s neck and rocks against him, “...there’s only one person on it.”
With a growl that might be hiding a laugh, Jiang Cheng flips Huaisang onto his back and grinds against him. “Stop arguing, Sang-er. I am busy writing my name on your new list, and I expect it to take the rest of the night.”
Now that he thinks about it, Huaisang decides, lifting his hips so Jiang Cheng can pull off his pants, it’s really a brilliant idea. The best idea Jiang Cheng has ever had. Jiang Cheng’s mouth engulfs Huaisang’s very much forgiven dick, and with a gasp and a moan, he vows to henceforth let Jiang Cheng have all the ideas.
⟹ ⟸
Huaisang stretches like a cat in the morning, as pleased with himself as the sun is to rise, and stares down at Jiang Cheng’s unfairly beautiful face. Last night, Jiang Cheng had seemed very determined to break the curse, or break Huaisang’s back, and Huaisang isn’t surprised that he’s still asleep. With one finger, Huaisang traces the line of Jiang Cheng’s jaw and leans down to kiss his cool, smooth lips.
Cool lips.
No.
No!
Huaisang flails out of the bed, scrambling backward, falling, shaking his head as though not looking directly at Jiang Cheng will change what he felt.
He knew he should have listened to his gut and not his traitorous, evil dick.
“No no no no no no,” he chants softly, like it will make Jiang Cheng any less dead if he says it enough times.
And then a ton of rocks falls on his head. He is in the Jiang zongzhu’s bedroom with a dead Jiang-zongzhu. The self-preservation instinct that has kept him alive this long kicks him in the ass. He hurries to Jiang Cheng’s side of the bed and rolls him over, tucking the blanket around him like a mushu pancake. First, roll up the body, he mutters to himself. Then, dump him in the lake. Then, run away. This would be easier if he had someone to help. Like Jiang Cheng.
He stops and frowns. Is that…
The rolled up blanket shakes and Huaisang leaps back, clearing the entirety of the lotus-shaped rug—gods, they are devoted to that theme—and landing on a chair as far away from the undead Jiang Cheng as possible.
The wildly panicking rabbit in his head only slows its escape as he recognizes the sound from the bed.
Laughter.
Fucking laughter.
Fucking Jiang Cheng rolls himself out of the blanket. Not dead.
Not yet, at least. Huaisang is formulating some very definite ideas on how to change Jiang Cheng’s living status right now.
“Your face! You should see your face. I swear, I will cultivate immortality just so I can remember this moment for a thousand years. I never thought there would be a reason to use my qi to slow my heart rate like that but I was so wrong. You were going to dump me in the lake!”
“What is wrong with you!” Huaisang shouts. “I thought I’d killed you!” He stalks over to Jiang Cheng, intending to make his assumption reality, but Jiang Cheng wraps his legs tightly around Huaisang’s waist and kisses him soundly.
“I don’t die easily, Nie Huaisang. Not for you, not for anyone. Besides, I’ve waited too long for you to figure out you’re in love with me. Now, come back to bed, and I’ll let you try to kill me again, as many times as you want. If you’re very good, maybe Princess will return the favor and try to kill you too.”
Dammit, Huaisang should have known he’d like the name. He’s going to be stuck calling Jiang Cheng’s dick Princess forever.
He grins and shoves Jiang Cheng backward, straddling his waist, and the aforementioned Princess twitches enthusiastically. Forever is a nice amount of time, Huaisang decides, and Princess is a small price to pay for forever.
#the untamed#cql#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#jiang cheng#nie huaisang#sangcheng#nie mingjue#jin guangyao#the untamed fic#I don't even want to tag the other people#wen xu#jin zixun#jin zixuan#there was a cursed idea#and then a cursed fic came out of it#it is quite silly but#not gonna lie I do sort of love the way it came out#kristina writes tiny stories
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rafaela
It was nearly 12 weeks since I first ran into the keys, and while things got weirder as I learned more about their world, school was getting more stressful. I’m enrolled in the International Baccalaureate program, and for anyone who has earned their diploma, they will understand how stressful it is.
Today was Wednesday, which meant that classes ended at 3.15pm for me, and instead of going home, I decided to stay in school and get some work done. I was on a roll, which for me meant that my ADHD brain was in a productive mode and I didn’t want to waste it. I was working on my Theory of Knowledge essay, and I was so exhausted after an hour and 45 minutes that I felt dizzy. Enough for now, I told myself. I’ll go home and either do more tonight or take a break.
Earlier today, I had acted up and jumped up and down in front of the class when the maths teacher (who happened to be the key of D major) returned our fortnight test scores. My class was taking Higher Level mathematics, and since it was a hard class, D major decided that frequent practice would help us in dealing with this class. Every two weeks, we would have a short quiz with 3-5 questions. That might not sound like a lot, but we always had new content to cover, and each question had many parts to it. This time, I had done fairly well by my standards, which were lower than most of the class since I struggled in school due to my ADHD. For me, getting 60% and above was an achievement, especially if I did not take my meds. I scored 67% for today’s test, and my impulsivity led me to jump excitedly in the air for a few seconds while the rest of the class stared at me. I apologised and returned to my seat, feeling heat radiating from my face. D major glanced at me sympathetically before continuing with the lesson. The whole class knew about my condition, however, that didn’t stop the stares. After that, during lunch, some of my classmates started laughing at me. I stormed out of the classroom, while my friend Erica accompanied me and tried to comfort me. “It’s okay,” she said. “They don’t understand what it’s like, and they need to feel better about themselves, so they’ll find anything weird to laugh at. You’re awesome, Raf. You’ll always be cool to me.” I didn’t believe her.
The anger and sadness that I would not be normal and not fit in with my classmates stayed with me until I finally went home. As I made my way out of the school building, I saw a couple of my classmates ahead of me, walking alone. I decided to avoid them and purposely walked slower than my usual walking speed. As I walked past the shopping mall next to my school, I saw a familiar figure walking towards me. F major.
He spoke in his kind and gentle voice. “Hey, Rafaela.”
“Hi,” I mumbled. I wasn’t in any mood to talk, but with F major, I felt my mood begin to lighten. “Any reason you’re here today?”
“A major was supposed to be here today, but she was busy talking to A minor, so here I am. I think she’s coming here soon, though, so I’m free to leave.”
“So...what are your plans for later? I’m supposed to have dinner at home, but my mother and I had an argument this morning, and I don’t really feel like going home.” As I spoke, I continued walking towards the train station.
“Won’t your parents get mad? Not like I really had them myself, but when we were in our early stages, before the Baroque era, people took care of us. I guess that’s my closest understanding to what you call parents.” I turned to look at F major in amazement.
“I didn’t know you existed that far back,” I remarked. Suddenly, I had a craving for Starbucks, and since there was an outlet at the mall next to my school, I found my feet pointing in that direction. “I have a sudden craving for Starbucks,” I announced. “Don’t mind me.” In reality, I was secretly hoping F major would come along. I just loved having him around.
“How about a treat?” he said.
“No way,” I replied. “I...can’t expect free stuff from other people. Or...um...you know what I mean.” Did F major count as a person when most of the world didn’t know he existed?
He smiled. “I’m having a meeting with F minor there, anyway. You could come say hi.”
“What? F minor?”
“...yes?” F major looked confused.
“I met her before, only that I didn’t know that then. She was my swimming coach,” I explained.
“I’m not surprised,” he admitted. “C major probably set that up. He’s in charge of most of us, in the sense that he assigns our groups for working together, or plans where we go to find synaesthetes. I mean specifically people with ordinal linguistic personification, but the musical form.”
By this time, we were at Starbucks. I looked around and saw my former swimming coach sitting at a low table, looking athletic as ever. She was looking at the door as we walked in, and she smiled. I ran over to her and gave her a hug. “It’s been a while,” I said. “We’ve met a couple of times, since then, but these were hurried and we didn’t get to talk much.”
F minor smiled at me, and in that instant, I suddenly saw how similar she and F major were to each other. The vibe they were both giving off was powerful, and I suddenly felt ready to face my classmates again, only that I’d have to wait until tomorrow.
“I told her she could come say hi,” F major said. “I wonder, what if you had been her piano teacher instead?”
“You what?” My voice went up. “You’re a piano teacher as well?!”
“Maybe you could sit in with us, Rafaela,” F minor invited. “Unless you need to go home. I don’t want to keep your parents waiting.”
Are you kidding, I thought. I got to spend some times with my favourite key and his parallel minor, who had been my swimming coach and whom I liked very much as well.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I just need to be home by 10PM.”
“Are you sure?” F major said. “We don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “So...what are the two of you discussing today?”
F minor laughed, a familiar sound I didn’t realise I missed. “Before we get into that, let’s buy something so it doesn’t look like we’re hogging the space.” She waved me towards F major. “Choose anything you want.”
“No!” I protested, as I followed F major to the counter. “I’m paying for my order myself.”
“Well, you can choose to do that and still have a free drink that you may or may not like, or you can choose to tell me what you want and let me pay for it, and save your money in the process, not to mention the effort put in by the baristas to make your drink,” F major said.
“Hey, that’s unfair. I...”
“So which is it, Rafaela?” F major smiled. “You can choose.”
I realised I wasn’t going to win. “Fine, I’ll have a grande chocolate chip frappe with whipped cream. Thanks,” I said. I fought the urge to hug him. What was it with me and F major?
We walked back to our table after getting our orders, and the two F-based keys sat next to each other, opposite me. I wondered if we looked like family where the kid was having a treat with her parents after school. For a moment, I wished that they were my family.
“On Saturday, we will be waiting around the library near the concert hall,” F major said. “You have classes in the morning, so you’ll come after you’re done. If nothing happens, we just update C major with what happened via electronic means and move on with the next step. If something happens, let’s say, a fight with one of those officials, we call for backup. I’ll have A major and D minor with me if we need them.”
F minor nodded. “I’ll have A-flat major and D-flat major join us too, if we need them.”
“Hold up,” I interrupted. “Officials? Back up? And two flat major keys with lots of flats as backup?”
F minor grinned. “I’m sure F major has explained to you that there are officials who are stifling expressions of creativity and emotion, and classical music is among the targets. As such, these guys often attack musicians, to intimidate them, and that’s why they need us to help them. In a way, we too need them, because it takes us and them to work together to keep classical music going, and in turn, emotion will remain here. Other art forms have their own fighters too, though we don’t know much of them. We wouldn’t know if, for example, there are personified colours walking around, doing similar jobs as us, but for painters and other visual artists. Sometimes, when we’re engaged in a fight with one of them, occasionally to defend a musician, we find that there are more of them we can handle. So that’s where the backup comes in, typically consisting of the trios we are assigned to. The tonic of F major’s trio makes up the D minor triad: D minor, F major, and A major. Mine is the D-flat major triad: D-flat major, me, and A-flat major. If we’re lucky, we have our relative keys in the same triad as us, but it’s not necessary. Sometimes we go out in different groups, if C major wishes to switch things up a little. Once, he even sent out pairs that formed tritones.”
F major grimaced. “I was in one of those pairs. I had to work with B minor, and the tension that was constantly there was exhausting to navigate. We nearly ended up yelling at each other.”
“Wow,” I wheezed. “So what’s with F minor’s triad? I mean, I kinda expected you to be in a triad of a different key, like your own.”
F major glanced at F minor and smiled mischievously. “You might not believe it, but F minor is so strong and fierce that D-flat major and A-flat major were chosen to calm her down sometimes. You remember that F minor is the mediant key of D-flat major, and A-flat major is the relative. Since both keys are flat keys and relatively calm, they were selected as the perfect balance for fiery F minor. C major didn’t want another flat minor key to be with her in the same group, since that would be too intense, and other triads should get a flat minor if possible. Anyway, F minor called for backup once, but by the time D-flat major and A-flat major arrived, her opponents, yes, two of them, had run away. In a different scenario, though, F minor might have really needed the backup. F minor and her companions use different strategies to fight, and how D-flat major and A-flat major fight. These two can fight like F minor, but they are much better at calming the opponent down until they are in no mood to fight. Sometimes the opponent may even become sleepy when battling D-flat major and A-flat major, since music in these keys is often calming. ”
“Clair de Lune by Debussy,” I said. “And Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 142, No. 2. Well, at least the opening is calming, anyway.”
“Usually the first 20 measures or so, including repeats, suffice when generating the emotion or mood required. And also, when it comes to my assigned triad, people often expect these two keys to be tranquil and not worth paying attention to in a fight, but these two use that perception of them to their advantage.”
“Any chance I’d meet them soon?” I asked. “I’ve already met you two, D minor, and A major. And I’ve seen A minor once in public, but she was busy talking to A major, and then she left. I don’t think A minor even knew I was there.”
“Let’s hope that time doesn’t come soon, because that would mean things are getting bad. And I have to go, since I have a swimming class at 6.30pm,” F minor said. I glanced at my watch - it was 5.45pm.
Suddenly my mind went back to those weekend evenings when I had swimming class that lasted for one and a half hours. I hated the backstroke, because I kept crashing into the lane ropes and occasionally whacking my hand on the concrete at the end of the lane. Sometimes I’d even swim into another swimmer’s feet, since I was on my back and couldn’t see them. And the double arm butterfly stroke was tiring, but it was amazing to be able to do, and hold my breath for 4 or more kicks. “I miss those days,” I said. “Sometimes I want to go back to the past.”
“We all have these feelings, kid,” F major said. “But focusing on the present is what’s important, and maybe the future.”
“I’ve gotta go. See you soon,” F minor waved goodbye as she walked away.
I was alone with F major. “So...that was it? I felt like most of it was explaining things to me rather than the two of you actually discussing your plans.”
“Honestly, it was just to make sure we were both up to date on our plans. Usually, we only spend a few minutes planning, and then we spend the rest of the time bonding together, which is important since this new order is trying to destroy our bonds and return everything to a dull, emotionless state, which includes the use of atonality specially engineered for this purpose. I’m aware that not all atonality is emotionless, but the kind we’re facing in recent years most certainly is, and that’s what we’re fighting against. We can’t let society, even the non-musicians, go to that state. Like F minor said, we’re indirectly working together with the other art forms. Professionals in their respective artistic fields are also up to the task of defending their art forms.”
“That’s sad. Having to defend yourself, I mean,” I said. This reminded me of constantly defending myself from bullies, teachers who didn’t understand my ADHD, and even my own parents sometimes. With F minor gone, I suddenly dreaded the thought of going to school tomorrow. I was tempted to make myself sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school for a valid reason, then I remembered I had a consultation regarding my music essay at 1.15pm tomorrow. And then I started thinking about my other subjects as well, kind of like playing “6 degrees of Kevin Bacon” but with the thoughts in my mind.
Before I knew it, I was tearing up. I realised F major was looking at me with concern in his eyes, but I was too embarrassed to make eye contact with him. “I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Just stressed about school. I have this critical thinking essay, a music essay I have a consultation for tomorrow, I need to study for mathematics, and I have a lab session for chemistry on Friday.” At this point, I was crying. “I like chemistry, but the lab sessions are so stressful. I always misread the instructions, I have to repeat my experiments, and then my data is different from everyone else’s. And then writing the lab report is hard, and my teacher gets mad at me for not keeping up.”
“Here.” F major handed me a paper handkerchief. I took it, and then I moved from my seat to where F minor had sat just now, so that I was next to F major. I wished he would hug me, but maybe he didn’t want to make me uncomfortable. Or maybe he was worried about what other people might think if they saw a grown man hugging an unrelated girl, even though we both knew it would be innocuous.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “ADHD is a bitch to have. It ruins my academic success and my social life.”
F major patted my head sympathetically. “I know,” he said. “A major and D minor both told me.”
My phone buzzed, and when I checked it, it was a text from my father. He had had a meeting in town, and since he was near my school, he wanted to know if I needed a ride home since he knew I sometimes stayed back to study. I’m at the Starbucks next to my school with a friend, I texted back.
Stay there, my dad replied. Apparently, he needed to buy something and it was available at the mall where I was right now. He would buy whatever it was, then he would come to Starbucks to get me. After that, we would walk to the car together.
“My dad’s coming here soon, in around twenty to thirty minutes,” I told F major. I felt the tears drying. “Sorry for all of that, by the way. It’s just...being who I am makes life hard. Sometimes it’s the thought of you guys that makes me excited for the next day when I’d see one of you again.”
F major almost looked sad. At that moment, I realised how sad F major could be, especially for a major key. Did he ever reach D minor levels of sadness?
“Guess who I’ve heard that line from,” he said. “You two sound eerily alike sometimes, especially when you’re sad, or in her case, severely depressed.”
“Hey now, I’m not depressed. I have ADHD, which is not depression.”
“I’m no psychiatrist, but ADHD and depression can and do occur together,” F major said. “Sometimes depression comes as an effect of dealing with ADHD, especially in an unsupportive environment, and sometimes it’s there by itself, independent of ADHD. What I mean is, having ADHD doesn’t mean you’re immune from depression. Quite the opposite, actually. There’s a higher risk of having depression as a co-morbid condition if you have ADHD.”
“Damn,” I said. “I really hope I do not have it. Having ADHD is bad enough, I do not need to have to deal with depression too.”
“My relative minor deals with depression, and that’s who I meant when I said you two sound eerily similar when you’re sad,” F major said. I felt a jolt go through me at the mention of D minor.
“Is..she okay?” I demanded, forgetting about my own problems.
“I think you should focus on yourself for now,” F major replied, avoiding giving me an answer, which made me suspicious. “You’re very kind, Rafaela, but worrying too much about others isn’t going to do you and your grades any favours. I’m sure you’re managing well at school, and now isn’t the time to uproot all of that, especially when you’ve worked so hard for your grades. ADHD can make school even harder, and I want you to do well.”
I glanced at my watch. At least 15 more minutes until my dad came. “That’s not an answer,” I said, fiddling with the used paper handkerchief which was soaked with my tears from minutes ago. “D minor is my friend like you are, and I’m worried for her the same way I’d be worried for you if you were in that position.”
“You sure you want to waste your energy worrying about something you can’t control?” F major said. “We’ve been around since the start of classical music history, our early days were during the Renaissance period, and you’re 17. We’ve been handling our issues much longer than you’ve been handling your own.”
I was comfortable being with F major that I had nearly forgotten he wasn’t just an older adult I felt safe with.
“When you put it that way...I guess I should just trust that you have things sorted out. But you’re still affected by human experiences, and some of them can be horrible to go through.”
At that moment, I started thinking about what had happened earlier today and how my classmates had laughed at me. I felt myself freeze, and a cold nervous feeling spread from my stomach to the rest of my internal organs. It was the same feeling I got when the teacher was about to hand back test papers and the announcement before the return of the papers was that some students did really badly. More often that not, I was one of those students. I inhaled deeply.
F major stared out the window, watching people walk by for a few seconds before speaking. He almost looked wistful. “I would know about that. I’ve gone through some of that myself.”
I looked at him. “Like what?”
“Let’s just say that some people, apart from those officials we are always up against, don’t like me, and while that’s fine, the problem is that sometimes I’ve been decked in public because of that. It helps that I can defend myself, but the emotional impact sure gets me. And that makes me worry that if something like that were to happen to D minor, I can’t protect her since I’d likely be attacked myself. I know F minor’s fine, it’s my relative minor I’ve always been afraid I can’t protect.”
I wondered if F major was aware that his voice had gotten sadder as he spoke. In a way, he almost reminded me of D minor. I thought it was sweet of him, to worry about his loved ones even when he himself was in trouble.
“I’ve noticed you seem pretty sad for a major key,” I said.
“Again, you’re not the first person to say that to me. D minor said that to me once, when we were discussing how sometimes, after a fight, she would find me knocked out. She said that it kinda shook her since I’m supposed to be the protective one among the two of us.”
“Do relative majors always do the protecting in a relative pair of keys?” I asked.
“You’ve forgotten about F minor,” F major said, with a hint of a smile. “She does most of the fighting, while A-flat major keeps the opponent in a calm and restful mood.”
I mentally cursed myself for forgetting how powerful F minor was, and assuming that she as a minor key depended on A-flat major for protection. “Right,” I said. “F minor and A-flat major seem like the odd pair where the minor appears to be stronger and more active than the major.”
“I think the same could be said of G major and E minor, but they’re so different in personality I think they’re happy to work in different triads.”
At that moment, I looked up past F major’s face and saw my dad walking through the door, looking for me. I stood up and yelled across the café, ignoring the stares. My dad smiled when he saw me, and when he saw F major sitting next to where I was standing, he looked confused. He walked over to us.
“Hi, Raf. I hope you were productive today,” my dad said, as he ruffled my hair affectionately. I did not introduce F major and my dad to each other, since my dad didn’t know anything about music apart from note names. However, my dad had other ideas.
“Hi, I’m Rafaela’s dad,” he said, smiling to F major. “I’m assuming you’re her friend?”
Whoops. I had no idea how F major planned to introduce himself to my non-musical, non-synaesthetic dad. Even if my dad only knew music theory but didn’t have synaesthesia, this situation would have been a lot less awkward. What human name should I give F major for this situation? If it had been D minor here with me now, I’d just call her Re and my dad would think her name was Rae/Ray/Rey or one of those spellings, though probably a more feminine one. (I’m aware that Ray/Rey are more likely to be used on a guy.) “Hi,” F major said, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re right, I’m her friend. She was productive today.”
“That’s great,” my dad said distractedly. “Hope you’re doing well in school,” he added, as he turned away and started walking. I realised that 1. my dad was only being polite and he didn’t really have any interest in talking as he was stressed about work, and 2. he thought F major was my classmate, or at least my schoolmate. I felt relief spread throughout my body. I turned around and waved to F major, who looked amazing. Fluffy layered brown hair that was shorter than shoulder-length, soft blue eyes set in a pale face, lean shoulders...and as he stood up, I suddenly noticed how tall he was, which somehow I had never noticed before. He was a head taller than me. F major looked like the kind of European guys I was always staring at. For some reason, I found that kind of face pleasant to look at, but I had never felt any attachment to the people whose faces they were as I didn’t get to know them personally, but this was different. I knew F major. As I followed my dad to the carpark, I wondered what it was like, charging into battle with F major against those officers who tried to stifle the arts. And maybe grabbing a coffee afterward, watching the sunset.
0 notes
Text
I Don’t Mean To: Part I
Here we go. This will be the very first time I have shared anything I have written. Thank you to my amazing hubs for reading, editing, and only smirking a tiny bit. (I couldn’t have handled any outright laughter...fragile ego and everything). I promise I was working on this fic before Andromeda came out. What can I say...movie night is just a great idea. Thank you to @vorchagirl for a brief, “Just keep working on it.”
Kaidan Alenko x Commander Shepard - Pre-Romance - ME:1
Read here on: FF.net
Part I:
Sitting comfortably on a sofa, drink in hand, Kaidan pondered exactly how he came to be in this moment. Ashley lay to one side of him, hogging the couch, with her feet tucked under his thigh, fast asleep. Shepard was pressed against his side gripping the long empty popcorn bowl against her chest. The day started off the same way most did since joining the Normandy Crew. A mission briefing, gear check, suit up, ship out, hit the ground running. He took pride in the fact that Tavrien Shepard trusted him to watch her six, he was on the ground team nearly every time. Being a skilled medic, tech specialist, and decent with biotics certainly made him an asset. Garrus had, on more than one occasion, jokingly referred to him as "Commander's pet." Shepard would take a moment to stare Garrus down, but Kaidan noticed pink tinge her freckled cheeks. He knew it was fanciful, the great Commander Shepard, military brat, savior of Elysium would never blush for the likes of him. He was simply another marine in the midst of many.
Kaidan could not help but admire the grace in which Shepard did everything. She turned a fire-fight into a frenzied dance only she knew the steps to. He learned quickly how to be where he was needed to provide support because he sure as hell couldn't keep up. If her barrier wavered, he would cover her restoring shields. If she got into a jam, he told himself that the reason his heart hammered so hard in his chest was because the Alliance could not afford to lose such an accomplished soldier. Shepard always managed to come up on top with a small smirk and some witty remark on her lips. They were an unstoppable team, and had become friends with an ease he hadn't known to this point in his life. The task of bringing in Matriarch Benezia proved to be more challenging than any assignment so far.
Wave after wave of Asari Commandos flung attacks at Shepard, trying to keep her off balance. They were out manned, and exhausted. His amp burned and he knew the others weren't fairing much better. Amidst the flying crates and biotics Shepard flew through the air, hitting the wall with a sickening crunch that echoed through the enclosed space. Terror gripped Kaidan, holding him tight in it's cold embrace. Everything around him began to spin, heart plummeting into his stomach, and he saw red. Instead of focusing on defense, as he was prone to do, he unleashed biotic attacks with a speed and intensity he could not believe were his doing. All in an effort to reach her, to make sure that he hadn't missed his chance to do more than idolize her from afar. The image of her lying there, eyes closed, blood streaking down her face and splattered inside her visor, would always haunt him. When she rose, fire in her eyes, he almost cried on the spot. After everything was said and done, he couldn't believe that she only suffered a small laceration. Doctor Chackwas chuckled at his unconcealed panic, kindly reminding him that head wounds bled terribly.
A sullen ground team removed armor, checked weapons, and watched in silent sorrow as rinse water swirled with red. Shepard had spent extra time in the med bay consoling a devastated Liara. He was ashamed at the jealousy that flared up. He tried his best not to let his brain conjure the worst images of what was transpiring behind closed doors. Shepard with her arms around Liara, emotions getting out of hand. He shook his head in disgust at himself. If Shepard chose to pursue a relationship with the Asari, what right did he have to stop her? Sure, they had flirted a time or two when he wasn't quick enough to stop compliments from escaping his lips. That certainly did not mean that he had any claim on her. Knowing this didn't stop the relieved sigh upon seeing her step into the mess. Shepard wandered off in a mindless daze. That she didn't so much as acknowledge either marine disconcerted him.
A silent glance and a quick nod shared between him and Ash was all that was needed for each to spring into motion. Kaidan moved quickly, gathering supplies for the one thing capable of pulling Shepard out of her despair: Movie Night. Shepard loved watching old vids and gorging on snacks after missions. He witnessed her pretending not to cry when Mr. Darcy declared his ardent love for Miss Elizabeth Bennett, his proposal dashed. He got lost in the musical sound of her laughter when the Man in Black wrestled Fezik to the ground and whispered to the unconscious giant about large women. No matter how many of these moments he was privy to, it always surprised him how real she seemed. Gone was the crafty, analytical mind of the Engineer leading them against foe after foe. While she gazed at the screen, he could almost imagine being normal. A couple of friends enjoying each other's company, and if sometimes his mind painted a picture of them being more, well he was a man. After her initial shock, she cracked a bright smile. "I have just the vid! You guys will love it!," she squealed. She selected Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, and though he had never seen the vid before, he was surprised at how right it felt to settle into Shepard's habit.
Garrus was the first to bail, muttering that a good leader wouldn't let someone so inexperienced choose which path to take. It was no surprise he didn't agree with the wizard Gandalf letting the tiny hobbit decide to go under the mountains against his better, and more experienced, judgment. Kaidan smiled deciding that Garrus would make a perfect Boromir. Both brash and quick tempered, sure that their way is the only way. As time went on, others excused themselves until the couch was the only occupied place in the room.
This close to her he could see the bruise on Shepard's temple was starting to blossom, soon to become hues of purple and blue. A ghastly reminder that he needed to be more than back up. He needed to let go, his fear of losing control hampered him. Kaidan wished he was brave enough to gently tuck an errant strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. He tried to tell himself that he didn't need to know if it was a soft as it looked. He certainly didn't need to see it freed from her severe military style bun. He would sneak a peak at her, watching as her long lashes brushed against the creamy skin of her cheek.
While Frodo stood on the river bank staring out to the distant shore, Shepard's full, perfect lips began to move. "I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." Her shoulder's sagged and he fought to keep his hands in his lap clutching his drink. He hated that so much rested on her, and wished he could do something to shoulder a portion of her burden. "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide, is what to do with the time that is given to you."
As Frodo pulled a sopping Sam from the river, and back into the boat, Kaidan knew he should turn his attention back to the screen. He felt as though he was invading a private moment Shepard was having. This time he could barely hear her melodic and captivating voice whispering along, "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. A promise. Don't you leave him Samwise Gamgee, and I don't mean to. I don't mean to." A silent tear streaked down her face, and Kaidan realized he was a goner. He was in love with this wonderfully fierce woman. A brave, determined soldier willing to fight tooth and nail for what was right. When people told her she was too naive and idealistic, that she was living in a fantasy world, she held fast to her resolve and amazed them all. This beautiful soul protecting the innocent whenever possible, banishing the monsters from under beds and out of dark corners. A proud and inspiring woman currently dissolving at the sight of a bond of friendship so strong, the most terrible evil could not come between them.
When the vid finally ended, and sea blue eyes met copper, she gave him the wistful smile he saw at night in his favorite dreams. She leaned over touched his arm and quietly, so as not to wake Ashley, said, "Thanks for indulging me, Kaidan. I knew you wouldn't let me down." She rested her head against his shoulder, and Kaidan swore to himself, no matter what Saren would throw at them, he would be her Sam. The rock to anchor her, the soft place to land, the person to remind her that she was not alone. He would choose to remain at her side, always. He slipped an arm around her waist and muttered into her hair, "I don't mean to, Shepard. I don't mean to."
#mass effect fic#female shepard#kaidan alenko#shenko#fshenko#shepard x kaidan#tavrien x kaidan#i don't mean to#part 1#my fic#steph did a thing
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blank Space - Chapter 6
Part 5B.
---------------------
It’s 7 in the morning and no one should be still in their dream land or maybe catching some trains or buses. Or may be stopped by to a coffee shop to grab one cup before facing the upcoming hectic day. No one knows.
And the fashion department studio should be as empty as other classes in that campus. But particular girl already on her desk, back and forth pinning some fabric to a mannequin and sketching after lining up some material on the table. Though her focus is 100% on the half-naked statue next to her, she couldn’t help catching someone intrudes her bubble by the corner of her feline eyes.
He’s getting closer so she put more concentrate on cutting the piece of silk in her hand. And when he dragged a stool right across the desk, she’s still acting that no one occupied the room besides her.
His presence is already intimidating. And to make it worst, the entire gaze he shot on her is full of affection instead of curiosity. Or anger. Or anxiety.
“I don’t know you’re such an early bird.”
“You know nothing about me,” she deadpanned while leaving her eyes to empty air between them.
“I know you’re pretty. Nice and smart. Passionate on your work, I can tell.”
She seemed not having any intention to look at the speaker by shifting to her side, putting different color of silks on the mannequin’s shoulder.
“Oh, and you also got big guts. You know, kissing someone in daylight in a crowd you barely know is not easy.”
Her hand stopped right away in the air. By this time, the only choice left for her is to blast him her trademark annoyed glare.
“Finally. Is it that hard for you to look at me?”
It only took a pair of torn eyes to melt Gwiboon’s heart. His eyes were genuine, looked really sincere no matter how she tried to ignore that fact. It’s not that she hates that face. How can you hate that puffy cheeks and full lips? Oh, dear God, those sinful lips. When her eyes darted to that pair of flesh, perfect pink tint crept on Gwiboon’s cheek out of nowhere. What’s the matter with you, Kim Gwiboon?
“Isn’t your class started later? It’s not even 9!”
“Wow. And you know my time table too. Unbelievable.”
The shade over Gwiboon’s face is getting more obvious it’s not even pink anymore. And Jinki once again, mesmerized by the view of bashful girl in front of him. His grin splits his face into two.
“I happened to have a brother taking the same course with you, don’t be so cocky you’ll ruin my mood! I know most of his class started after 10.”
“So, you stalked me through your brother? Hmmm. Interesting, really interesting.”
Gwiboon half slammed her scissors onto the table and Jinki flinched on his seat, “I got lots of stuff to do. If you’re here just to joke around and mock me then the door’s over there.”
Jinki sighed rather loud, considering only two people in this huge studio, “Look. This is the first time we got to be alone after, you know, I ki—“
“I don’t want to talk about that!”
“But I want to. And I’m going to talk about that again and again. We kissed before. Twice. That’s a lot for people who are – wait, what’s your term, oh yeah – stranger. Are we not going to do something about that?”
“What do you want, really?”
She continues to pampering the mannequin, stitched it here and there just to keep her mind busy because she’s about to collapse listening to that soft voice.
“I don’t know. What do you want? I mean, I don’t know what about you, but I like you. A lot.”
He talked to Gwiboon’s back but his words stabbed her, passed her spine and directly engulfed her heart in slow motion. The latter couldn’t help but bit her lips for the sake not jumping in excitement like a sugar-rushed five year old kid.
“I like you too.”
Jinki is not expecting this one. He’s so ready to hear Gwiboon’s getting enrage and ranting, but her simple reply got him stunned in a second.
“Oh, wow. And now you’re muted. Whatever. You’ve got what you want, now can you not distracting me with your ridiculously warm crescent eyes?”
‘Did I just say he got warm eyes?’
“Did you just tell me that my eyes are warm and distracting? Am I dreaming or what?”
Gwiboon’s sulking on her own, stomping her feet while moving and trying so hard avoiding Jinki’s eyes. Most people would get boring easily if the opposite person they talked to is ignoring them. But Jinki, Jinki’s definitely not most people. He enjoyed his time there looking at working hard Gwiboon. She loved whatever she’s doing and that sends him lots of strange feeling. A good strange feeling.
He pulled out the little sketch book he always had on his pocket, snatching a pencil from Gwiboon’s desk and starts copying her side view on it. Every single hair strands, neckline, her jaw, all are drawn perfectly in such limited time. While he enjoying the sight before him to complete his quick doodles, his phone’s buzzing madly, ruining the tranquil air wrapped them.
“Yes, Jinki’s speaking! Oh, Mr. Kim! What can I help this time?”
Gwiboon tried so hard not to eavesdropping but the struggle is real when the only sounds ringing in the room is his clear voice.
“Really? That’s great! Really really great! Thanks for calling me in advance! I’m already at the university don’t worry, I’m heading to your office now.”
He’ll be gone soon. Why does this feel not right?
“No, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a moment. Thank you very much once again!”
When the conversation seemed finished, Gwiboon can hear Jinki’s huffing to the atmosphere and she sense disappointment out of him. Through the small mirror steady on her desk, she can see he shuffled on his seat and ready to leave.
“Gwiboon.”
“Hmm.”
“I need to go right now. But I’ll definitely back aft–– “
“This design needs to be delivered to the board at lunch.”
“Whatever. I’ll see you later! Good luck with the mannequin! I love the lace color.”
“It’s not lace. It’s embroidery.”
But Jinki’s already dashed outside the room when Gwiboon finished her words. And the room feels emptier than ever when not even his trace of perfume stayed there. She shrugged her shoulder and moved to the end of her desk to measure some ribbon. That’s about the time she found a paper alone near the corner.
‘You know what this girl needs? A smile on her face. Because the Kim Gwiboon I know is way much prettier when she smiles. Mind to let me know how the design goes? :)’
Under her flawless portrait on the paper, Jinki wrote his number. Seeing that, her soul had been taken away in between excitement and sorrow.
***
“They love it! Two of them are presented earlier on the next board meeting and they assigned me to fill the first walk and also the last.”
“Who is this?”
“You said you want to know how the design goes!”
He put down the cigarette and kept it back inside its box while his face turned into a blossoming rose, “Gwiboon?”
“Who do you expect?!”
“I just surprised, I thought you won’t calling me.”
“Me too.”
Long pause fill up the awkwardness between them, until Jinki tried to break it, “So it means you’ll stay in the studio until midnight again?”
“Guess so. I can only go to the studio on Wednesday and Friday. And Saturday morning. But lots of detail needs to be finished.”
“Why don’t you go there every day? Working two or three hours after the class won’t hold you to go back early, well, at least not until midnight,” Jinki being his original himself, trying to make everything more bearable with a better schedule.
“The other day I got a bis – never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s not only me on the studio! I don’t want people take a look at my design! It’s not finished yet! It looks like people caught me naked.”
“I’ve visited you yesterday, so that meant I saw you naked?”
“You pervert head hog!”
Long haul of laughter spread through the line, not only to Gwiboon’s ear, but also to her heart. It feels great. It feels like home.
“You are the one who said that. I just emphasize the possibility. No, I just made a confirmation. Not my fault.”
“Cut it off.”
“As you wish.”
“What are you doing?”
“Me? Smoking.”
“And cut that off too! It’s bad for you!”
“I’m not even had a chance to light it up! Your call was kind of interrupting.”
“That’s good. I’ll make sure to call you every two or three days to check on you. Just so you know, the nicotine stays in your lips.”
“How do you know? You’re not even smoking!”
“I can taste it the other time.”
Warmth fills up his hollow chest. He spent the entire week to work on his final project and help Taemin writing some lyrics to his performance. To sum it up, he’s exhausted as hell. But listening to the words leaving Gwiboon’s lips, he felt like he could climb another mountain right now.
“Oh are you sure? Want to double check it again?”
Jinki is not even next to her, but still, she got blushed all over her cheeks, “You and your pervert brain can spend entire years in hell!”
He cracks right away, “I’ll stop by every Wednesday and Friday then.”
“Nah, you got your own thing to finish. I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, you’ll be fine and I won’t. You’ll never know how it feels to be a man coming home before dinner and knowing the woman he cares about still out there doing things for a living.”
Her throat strangled by invisible rope. Silence cut everything Gwiboon’s trying to say.
“So yeah, see you next Friday?”
“Oh,” she finally got her mind back in the system, “Well, whatever. Just don’t back up right away after you found it boring. I won’t entertain you at all, busy stuff.”
“How can I get bored with you, seriously?”
And since that weekend, after his studio’s finished, he brought his laptop and sketch book, dragged his feet to the farthest building at the university. He just sat there and continued clicking here and there, sometimes peeking over Gwiboon and just looking at her when his eyes got tired staring at the screen nonstop.
Sometimes Gwiboon already waiting with a packed dinner for him. Sometimes Jinki pushed the studio’s door a little bit late, with her favorite coffee set in hand.
Sometimes Jinki is too lazy to make a presentation layout and just enjoying Gwiboon’s side view. Sometimes Gwiboon not touching her works at all and just peeking on his screen or capturing his serious face with her Polaroid.
***
And with that, people start talking again. They talk when Gwiboon stopped by to architect’s department studio design both hand carried packed lunch. When she dropped one on Jinki’s desk and the other to his brother’s. They talk when Jinki’s board shoulders appeared so often in the fashion design department. When he casually ruffled Gwiboon’s hair after the class and they went together to Jinki’s basement.
Nobody needs another radio announcement or neon box advertising to notice they are seeing each other. Minho and Taemin don’t even bother to confirm, as well. But they are not Jonghyun.
“You doing well, lately?”
“Hmmm.”
It’s dinner time in their house and the second week of the month, Gwiboon’s home and Jonghyun found his chance to ask her about all those rumor he had been buzzed off.
“Your project is okay?”
“It’s great,” she shoved another pile of beef salad in her mouth, eyes keep staring to her phone.
“I’ve been heard some gossips.”
“It’s gossip. You know you shouldn’t listen to that crap.”
“Well, I won’t listen if that’s not about you.”
“It’s always about me, huh?” she put down her phone, eyes locked with her brother, “Which one do you trust? Those stupid people or me?”
“I trust my friends Gwiboon.”
“So you don’t believe me because I am apparently not one of your friend?”
“Jinki is my friend.”
“So? Did he tell you something?”
“He didn’t. That’s why I asked you.”
“Your logic is not pretty good sometimes.”
“It is pretty good when half of your classmate said that your sister and your friend making out here and there around the campus.”
She shot her head up and what she found makes her writhing silently. Jonghyun’s not angry. Jonghyun looks care.
“Are you going out with him?”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you dating him?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not the answer I want to hear, Gwiboon.”
“I really don’t know, Jong! We don’t define what is this happened between me and your friend!” Gwiboon finds it hard to just say Jinki’s name like that, “Not everyone smart enough or brave enough to call it something, you know!”
She’s tossing the fork on her hand to the plate, appetite gone in flash. Jonghyun didn’t tilt his head a bit, making Gwiboon more uncomfortable with the atmosphere.
“This is my friend, Gwiboon. You don’t just like people and hanging out with them without checking them whether you’re on the same page and then after you got bored you just left! I’ve told you since the beginning. Jinki’s my friend! He’s a nice guy!”
“And you think I don’t deserve nice guy? You think the best choice that I could have is random guy who treat me like a whore or someone who’s sexist enough to go to jail?! Am I that low in your eyes, Jong?”
When Jonghyun saw her all torn and sincere, he mentally burns himself in hell, “It’s not like that, Gwiboon.”
“It’s always been like that! Being judgmental and hating every single thing I’ve done! I don’t know where exactly my fault is. And I can’t even like a guy whose kind enough to bring me a cup of coffee in the middle of night without asking anything after that?”
“Kim Gwiboon, listen to me.”
“No, you listen to me, brother of mine. I am as afraid as you of losing him if something unwanted happened in the future between me and him. If you care enough all this time, I am not as cold as bitch that you pictured of me in your head. I have no one to run whenever all those gibberish that you called gossip is way too far and ridiculously make no sense to handle. But he’s there. Suddenly he’s there, doesn’t even care about all those craps and still give me the perfect genuine smile even when my own brother doubts me.”
“Gwiboon, it’s no—“
“It’s not like that? Is that what you want to say?”
“I told you to listen to me!” this time Jonghyun started to lose his temper and raised his voice, shut Gwiboon down right away, “Jinki is my friend. You know that. He is a person that I care a lot, as much as I care about you.”
Gwiboon looks she’s not ready with everything that he had in mind.
“Yes, Kim Gwiboon. All this feud and everything we had doesn’t stop me to care of you. Never in a million way, and because of that reason alone, have I known that this time is different than before. Different than all those bastard trying to hook up with you. And that’s the reason why I have no heart to let you ruin yourself.”
“I don’t see your point.”
“Jinki is going to graduate soon. And who the hell knows what would he did after that, he might go to the end of the world to do another volunteer work or being busy in his new office. He’s going to leave eventually. And I don’t want you to feel to be left behind again. Not after what I did to you.”
So Jonghyun has no idea about me leaving the university?
Gwiboon bite her lips, contemplating whether he should tell Jonghyun the truth or not.
“Jong,” the latter is surprised, it’s been so long since Gwiboon called him that way, “I don’t care he might leave next month, or next year, or maybe tomorrow. At this point I don’t even care if what’s going on between me and him right now is real. This is new for me, as you said before, yes, I admit that this is different than before.”
“Gwiboon, how many times should I tell you, I don’t care about you might hurt him, it’s the opposite that I am worried now. The fact that he might hurt you when he left.”
“If that what is your concern, I’ll make sure I’m the one who left him and not the other way.”
“Kim Gwiboon, this is not a game.”
No, it’s not, Jong. I am the one who’s going to leave him and might break his heart. I am the criminal.
“You know I don’t play game. Thank you for your concern, but I think I’m old enough to play safe and handle my feeling.”
Gwiboon wiped her mouth quickly and retreated to her room before Jonghyun stopped her for another argument. Before her tears spilled out the brim of her eyes.
I’m sorry, Jong. I didn’t mean to make you lose him when I did.
***
“Can you move a little bit?”
Jinki shifted closer to Gwiboon instead further away, forcing the latter gritted her teeth. He broke into huge laughter before peck her cheek and gave her the space she needed.
“What the heck?”
“I’m sorry, but your upset expression is my new Achilles heels now. I just can’t help myself about that.”
“You need to do something about that. I am begging you. Before all these girls broke into my locker and burn everything inside, ruined the whole project that I’m working on.”
“And you need to stop imagining something. It’s not gonna happened and it’s not healthy.”
She cocked her head to the side, Jinki grins like a five year old with sugar rush.
“Let me tell you something. I’ve been received dead animals on my studio’s desk. I got calls from unknown number threating to kill me every once in a week because apparently I am a bitch and they are fucking coward without balls and guts. But now, I have some important business to take care before the beginning of the next month. So. Can you not?”
“Not what?”
“Not doing exactly what could wake up their inner hyena to do all those stupid stuffs I just mentioned!”
“Like this?”
He closed the distance once again and rested his lips on her cupid bow ones, pushed back every argument hanging on the tip of her tongue.
“Love birds!! Get a room!!”
They parted and turned to the source of annoying voice just to fins Taemin beaming into wide smirk across the hall.
“Mind your own business, kiddo!”
Jinki shouted to his brother who rolled his eyes before he continued walking to the direction of the library.
“I am so done with you!”
“Really? That fast?”
He darted his eyes to down south and Gwiboon’s cheeks cannot hide the blushed anymore.
“Creepy old pervert! I’m leaving!”
Jinki cracks on the spot but not losing his chance to grab her wrist, stopping her for going somewhere else.
“Can you stay for another 15 minutes?”
“I have an appointment with my supplier and you said you need to fix the structure calculation before this weekend. And also..”
“Also?”
She sighs while slipped the straps of the bag on her shoulder, “Jonghyun might be here anytime. Just like Taemin.”
“So what?”
“He is your best friend!”
“And he’s your brother.”
“Who doesn’t even care that I’m exist.”
“Kim Gwiboon.”
“Lee Jinki.”
“Are you keep it secret from Jonghyun?”
“No, he already knew.”
“So?”
“I just don’t want to make everything more complicated. And awkward. I’m doing you a favor here.”
“Gwiboon, I don’t need your help. I’m okay.”
“But I’m not.”
Both of them are sinking into silence. And without asking, Gwiboon understands how disappointed Jinki at this second.
“Jinki, all my life has been a cold war. I know this is hard and too much to ask, but I hope you have a big heart on it. For once in my life, I want to forget everything and believe only on the reality that I want to acknowledge.”
“I understand. But if you just want to care about what you believe, why you bother to care about other’s opinion?”
“Because I care about you.”
He couldn’t believe what he just heard. When he shot his head up, the girl in front of him looks so vulnerable.
“I’ll see you on Friday. Good luck with the structure stuff.”
And she just walked away, not giving him a chance to hug her or even bid goodbye.
***
Two people lying on a dark indigo fluffy carpet while their head on the bed, or more like thick mattress, with their mind wander in their own track. Above them, a simple handmade pendant lamp is hanging on the open wooden structure ceiling. Sun’s seeping through the small window, making a great shadow on the wall beside which occupied by tall wooden cabinet where books and zombies figurines march neatly.
What makes Gwiboon loves to spend her time here is not only because of the slanted eyes boy is laying next to her, busy reading a quite thick book. The atmosphere inside this sanctuary soothing her mind, high ceiling released her stressed feeling inside her chest.
“You should put something green on that cabinet.”
“Hmmm.”
“Small succulent in colorful pot won’t hurt.”
“I have no time taking care of any plant.”
“Cactus only need water every one or two weeks, idiot.”
When her elbows stick onto his ribs, he could only flinch, but not planning to stop reading or whatsoever.
“Tell me three things I don’t know about you.”
This time, she got his attention. He put down the book on his stomach and turned his head to his right just to find Gwiboon staring right to the ceiling, fingers intertwined resting on her chest.
He chuckled then, discarded the book and rolled himself, supporting his head with one arm, the free one decided to play with Giwboon’s fringe, “What kind of thing?”
“Anything. Something secret. Something special that only you and your family know. Or even something you kept for yourself.”
“Hmmm. Let’s see,” Gwiboon leaned to her side so she’s currently facing Jinki, tint pink smudged on her cheek, “But in exchange you need to tell me three things about you.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
She smirked then lifted her head a bit so her pouty lips can land perfectly on Jinki’s full ones, “Promise.”
As if hypnotized by her action, he opened his secret drawer right away, “I’ve dyed my hair pink.”
For Gwiboon, even though Jinki’s well known in their circle, she still presume the latter is someone with reserve personality and far for her wild imagination.
“You would never pull it off. No way.”
“Yes way. But it only last for maybe around four months? Or five? I don’t remember,” he picked his phone and roamed to his gallery, “It’s about the same time when Taemin decided to turn his hair purple.”
“I bet you looked so sexy back then,” Gwiboon stretched her hand to brush Jinki’s hair which then the latter stopped her hand with his mischievous grin.
“Nothing beat you when it comes to being sexy.”
She rolled her eyes but failed to hide her blush, “Stop being cheesy! Now facts number two!’
Jinki could only laugh and messed up her front bangs again, a new habit he developed lately whenever the latter around, “When I was in Brazil, I wasn’t exactly live there for three months.”
“What do you mean?”
“I stayed in Argentina for a month and two other weeks in Chile.”
“Wow.”
“You do fascinated by that?”
“No, not even slightly. But the fact all of your fans out there assumed you’re volunteering slash surviving in the heart of Amazon forest for three whole months is indeed really fascinating.”
“Which fans? I’m not even famous in my department.”
“I’m actually at the point feeling confused whether you are too naïve or too cocky. Then can you explain why people were extremely happy when the rumor about you ditched me broke out?”
Gwiboon’s heart almost dropped to the ground when Jinki’s eyes torn a bit before kissed her nose in flash, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s their right to hate me. I am not that kind either to them,” she tried so hard to shrug his concern, “Now the last one.”
“This is embarrassing.”
“As long as it’s not you telling you’ve been stay behind the bars, I’m okay with that!”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not that wild. It’s happened when I’m on 5th grade. I once cried when I got 2nd place in the class.”
And when the girl next to him burst into one massive laugh, he could only blast sheepish smile as his cheeks felt a lot warmer than it supposed to be.
“Now’s your turn.”
“Lee Jinki, the best model student ever, everyone!”
“Enough with me,” Jinki’s sulking and leaned back again to the carpet, hands folded in front of him like a five year old, “I told you that’s embarrassing. Taemin has been mocking me my whole life. You better not join force with him.”
“But that is so cute. I can imagine you, cheeks puffing, eyes almost gone, bawling secretly on your bed, face drenched with tears.”
“I wish I hadn’t told you that!”
“That means you’re human, baby,” she placed both her hands to his cheeks and turned his face to make those eyes level with hers, “I was a nerd, too. I have no friend besides Jonghyun and my books until middle school.”
“There’s no such thing in the world.”
“You can check it out. Ask Jonghyun. But probably he would say nothing and telling you that you’re wasting your time.”
“Let’s say it’s true, what else?”
“I’m closer to my grandmother than to my parents,” her throat suddenly felt a lot drier.
“I guess that happened to Jonghyun, too.”
“How do you know that?”
Jinki’s smile looks so sincere plastered on his glowing face, “Both of you are alike more than you realize. And choosing to stay in the dorm rather in your own house? That should at least speak something.”
“Seriously, you don’t stalk him behind my back, do you?”
“Don’t be jealous, baby,” he winked and got his forehead flicked by Gwiboon, “Is your life that boring? I need to hear something ridiculous.”
“I’m not a superstar like you. My life is full of hate and judgment.”
“Not stupid things like wet your pants? Stealing your parent’s money to buy new Barbie? Or got into fight with some other bitches?”
“I’m leaving soon, Jinki. And there’s no way whatever happened between us gonna last.”
Those words are already hanging at the tip of her tongue. However, when she’s looking at Jinki, those warm coffee color orbs shut her down, threaten her with the most horrible moment when finally their times together ruined.
“Fine. But promise me you won’t laugh at me?”
This time, Jinki’s the one who pecked her lips, “Promise.”
“I took my dog as my high school prom date.”
“Well, the story about an ugly duckling turned into swan is not a joke.”
She slapped his arm hard, “You promise not to laugh!”
“Am I looked like I’m laughing now?!” Gwiboon is pouting but she’s struggling not to laugh at the moment, “Is there no one to ask back then?”
“Minho and I broke up two weeks before prom. He got a new girl and I had no one. So I made a tuxedo for my dog and bring him to the party.”
“And that’s what we called secret. I always thought you are this popular chick everybody adores since you were young.”
“I told you I was a nerd, an outcast who suddenly decided to become a spoiler brat and selfish bitch. I think Minho is the only friend I keep until now.”
“You can keep me, though.”
“How can I keep everyone’s favorite just for myself?” Gwiboon turns her head ahead, staring back to the ceiling, “I’m done being selfish. I don’t think I can do that.”
“Being selfish is okay sometimes. You said we’re human, right?”
She closed her eyes when she caught by the corner of her eyes, Jinki fixed his eyes on her, “We are like a group of dysfunctional people,” she blurted out once he’s back to Jinki.
“I don’t think so,” he played with her hair again, leaned a bit and tuck it behind her ear and making Gwiboon’s almost choked with his sweet scent in such distance, “I’m about to finish my final project then started my master degree soon. And just so you know, this ding dong here is working rather fine lately.”
Jinki looked down and bashfully grinned making Gwiboon slapped him once again, “It’s not what I mean, pervert!!”
It’s hard not to be flustered by such a comment. Especially when she realized her heart beat faster whenever Jinki made that face, the ridiculously adorable dork, literally Jinki’s being himself.
“Most people get to know each other first. Then when they feel like it, they kissed. And probably make out. But we’re having it backwards. We kissed. Some unintentionally, some planned, well, we kiss a lot just to sum up. Then later on, here we are, peeling out ourselves layer by layer.”
“Well, we aren’t common people at the first place, just in case you forgot.”
She really could just sigh, “What are we, really?”
Jinki shifted uncomfortable before convinced himself this is what both of them wanted at this moment, “Two people enjoying each other presence and silently hoping time would just stop like this.”
Gwiboon sighed, maybe too loud, making Jinki frowns again, mind battling whether he said the wrong thing or not.
“You’re right. Maybe I just want to stay like this forever.”
“Staring at the ceiling?”
“Of course not, stupid,” She turned and caressed his cheek in a slow motion, “Feeling you breathing next to me just to make sure I am not alone.”
His hand wrapped hers and dragged it right onto his chest, “You will never be alone again as long as you let me be around you.”
Two or three months ago, Gwiboon might be bet all of her possession to hear Jinki said such things like this. But when he’s finally here, not only looking to her direction, but also give her the best smile she ever seen and hold her hand so tight, she actually wanted to mop her heart and curse the universe for playing with her feeling and time.
Mostly to the time for being such a tease.
“Promises are made to be broken.”
“Wanna bet?”
Before Gwiboon could retail some words in her mind, Jinki’s lips already pressed to hers. Slow and careful, delicate like a ballerina, they’re dancing with her soft flesh, step by step tickling her heart. She gave up under his touch and returned the favor, kissing him back. This time inside her head, fireworks do appear. But they explode together with dynamite, one to another.
They parted away when both of them lack of air, but apparently Jinki doesn’t give her time to rest her heart by sneaking his hand under her back, scooping her a little so their chests pressed tighter than before and his full lips back to claim her pouty ones.
“Jinx, what if this is just a dream?”
“Then I refused to wake up.”
“I mean it. What if, suddenly we were apart?”
“I’ve been there and it tortures every possible part of me. I won’t cross that path again, Gwiboon.”
“That’s not answering my question.”
“Are you seeing another man right now?”
“What? No!”
“Your parents set you into some arranged marriage?”
“Of course not!”
“Are you dying?”
“Jinki, you are nuts! I’m not sick!”
“Then everything can wait. But not this.”
His face is completely hovering hers now. And Gwiboon barely sane to compose anything in her mind.
***
The pain stings her head disturbed her sleep, force her to flex opened the feline eyes and move her damned limb. However, the view that greets her is way far from familiar. Outlining the sun ray seeped into the cold room with her barely functional eyes, she realized she’s not in her dorm. Or in her home.
“…”
The lump covered by the grey blanket on her left moving up and down in a sluggishly pace. She unwrapped herself extra carefully not to make sound more than 10 decibel. But the room is too poor lit when she left the mattress to find her blouse. So after 10 minutes of groping on the dark, she gave up and head to the wardrobe – the only thing she remembered where’s it located – and grabbed pair of boxer and random t-shirt.
Thank God her jeans are still visible enough to be discovered. Tiptoeing, she snatched her shoes, phone, and purse in one go before reaching the door, slowly pulled it and slipped herself in less than 30 cm opening, closed it really slowly in an attempt to not produce any noise that might wake up the owner of the house.
“Good morning, Princess,” her heart dropped to the ground and Taemin just raised his mug to salute her, successfully making her failed miserably to avoid the walk of shame parade, “Going somewhere?”
“Can you lower your voice?”
“Why do I need to tone down my voice in my own house? Do I look like a thief?”
“Ssstt! You might wake up everyone, you idiot!”
“The only one that hasn’t woken up is my brother behind that door. I already feed Eve and my mom already went to the market and back.”
“Your Mom’s home?!”
“Why wouldn’t she?” he laughs since he knew why she screamed and more because Gwiboon’s terrorized face is too funny, triggers him to mess with her even further, “I wonder what happened last night that makes both of you woke up so late. My brother didn’t throw a party inside his room, did he?”
“Lee Taemin..”
“Maybe horse riding? You know when someone sit on the top and move up and down, back and forth… “
Her face is now more crimson than ripe tomato.
“…on the track. But we don’t have horse so it’s impossible. Or midnight work out? Yeah, I guess so, my brother works out like crazy lately.”
The smile plastered on his face knocked her down without Taemin even tried so hard.
“Can you be adult for once and stop shouting?”
“Is this what you called shouting?”
“Cut it off before your Mom heard anything!”
“She’s busy cooking, she won’t hear shit even you’re moaning.”
He sent her a wink, built a nausea feeling on her tummy, “Thanks for the notes! I’m leaving!”
“Please, you know that the kitchen in our house is next to the front door right?”
Gwiboon stopped right away after only three steps.
“So when you’re on your way, don’t forget to say hi to my Mom.”
“Fuck.”
He finished his coffee and chuckles at her, “Why don’t you join us for brunch?”
What kind of idea is that? Sharing the dining table on Saturday morning with someone’s Mom that has no idea what happened behind her son’s door last night? And without taking shower? Make up?! Oh, hell no!
“No one’s care you already take a shower or not, this is Saturday morning, for God’s sake. But if you refuse to walk with me to the dining table, you can just go back to my brother’s room,” now he leaned on the wall, arms folded with his empty mug hangs at his finger, “And wait until my Mom kick that door to ask him for brunch and maybe you as well since you’re inside. How about that?”
“There’s no way your mother found me inside your brother’s room!”
“Why not? She knows you’re here anyway.”
“What?!”
“Taemin! Wake your brother and his girlfriend up! Get in here three of you before this chicken get cold! it’s not my style to serve frozen food to a guest in my house!”
Gwiboon looks like a stray puppy who waits for her death sentence when Taemin raised his brows as if he’s saying ‘I told you’.
“What should I do?!”
“Go back to that filthy room, drag my brother’s ass out, and have a really nice brunch with us. As easy as that. Besides…”
“Besides what?”
“Besides, my brother wouldn’t be pleased knowing you wandering around the city.. you know.., senza underwear.”
She covered her chest with her purse in instant and ran to the door at the end of hallway while cursing inside her head.
“I’ll see you both soon!”
She slammed the door behind her doesn’t even care whether it’s polite enough to do in other’s property.
“Why so loud in the morning?” lazy voice came from the far right of the room, Jinki sat on the mattress without anything covering his torso, bed hair all jolted here and there, try to collect all his soul, eyes squinted to Gwiboon’s direction, “Is that my t-shirt?”
***
Part 7.
HI PEOPLE I AM BACK! I am sorry for neglecting this series for a really really really long time God’s know how. This is unedited, so if there are so many mistake, I apologize. The grad school is taking all my energy. I’m supposed to work for museum research now but I just too tired to think about building design analysis. How are you peeps?! Any comment any question about this, just let me know! Hopefully, I’m going to be more often to update! Lots of love from Italy! Enjoy! XOXO
#jinki#onew#key#kibum#onkey#onkey fic#onkey fiction#shinee fiction#shinee fic#jinkibum#het!onkey#gwiboon#jinboon#shinee scenario#onkey scenario#jinkibum scenario
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Christian’s Diary: God’s Words Led Me to Put Aside the Desire for Fame
By Cong Ling
March 1st, 2018 Thursday, Sunny
Today, a young brother named Xiaoyang came to our church. Although he has not believed in God for very long, he really engages in pursuit and expends himself enthusiastically. As a long-time believer, I must get along well with him. And we brothers and sisters should help each other. This is the likeness that a Christian should live out and also what God hopes to see.
April 1st, 2018 Sunday, Sunny to Cloudy
Today, I was in a terrible mood. The leader was not satisfied with the work that I had put a lot of efforts into, for there existed some problems in it. What made me more depressed was that my leader let Xiaoyang take over my work. When he asked me some questions with the worksheet, I was uncomfortable in my heart, and thought: “I have racked my brains to do this work. Although the final outcome is not ideal, I have done my best. I should at least be given another chance. Xiaoyang just has come here for a month. Even though he pursues the truth and is worthy of cultivation, they shouldn’t have turned over to him the work I was in charge of so quickly. Where can I show my face? How will the brothers and sisters see me?”
April 3rd, 2018 Tuesday, Overcast to Rainy
The sky is gloomy, so is my heart. As soon as I thought the work I had toiled at for such a long time was entrusted to Xiaoyang, I felt very painful. What displeased me more was: Xiaoyang constantly consulted me about this or that. Despite being unwilling in my heart, I still answered his questions for the sake of saving face. But later, he said that he was too busy and asked me to help him collate the files. At that moment, I couldn’t bear it any longer and thought: “You have taken over the work I used to take charge of. Aren’t you capable? Then you do it yourself. I won’t help you.” But then, I felt a little uneasy: “He is new here and has not yet been familiar with the situation of the church. What’s more, I am the former responsible person of this work; I should help him.” Yet it occurred to me: “If he is unable to do it, he can ask our leader to find someone else. Why am I bothering to help him? If we do the work well, everyone will think it is because of his efforts and thereby look up to him. Who can know that it is me who do the work? Won’t they even more look down upon me then?” When I thought of this, my heart which had just softened a little immediately hardened up. In the end, I didn’t help him.
April 5th, 2018 Thursday, Cloudy to Sunny
Today, at the meeting, when seeing me unhappy, my sisters and brothers asked me with concern if I had encountered any difficulty. I opened up my heart and said to them, “I don’t understand why the leader assigned the work which I had put many efforts and prices into to Xiaoyang, who is new here. How will other brothers and sisters see me? They must all look down upon me and regard me as inferior to him. Once I think of this, I feel uncomfortable inside.” After knowing my situation, my brothers and sisters all helped me. They said, “The things that happen every day contain God’s good will. God arranges them not to make trouble with us but to change and save us. We should examine what corrupt disposition we have revealed when encountering this thing, and then know ourselves and seek a transformation.”
That’s true! What the brothers and sisters said was utterly right. As a Christian, I should learn to reflect on myself and seek the truth in everything. I asked myself: Why am I always displeased these days? Why do I have an aversion to Xiaoyang? I didn’t treat him like this before. What’s wrong with me? I pondered these questions again and again in my heart. Afterward, I read a passage of God’s words, “As soon as it involves position, face, or reputation, everyone’s heart leaps in anticipation, and you always want to stand out, to be famous, to be glorified. You are unwilling to yield, always wanting to contend, although contending is embarrassing. However, you are not content not to contend. When you see someone stand out, you are jealous, feel hatred, complain, and feel it is unfair. ‘Why can’t I stand out? Why is it never me? Why is it always he who gets to stand out and it’s never my turn?’ There is some resentment. You try to repress the resentment, but you can’t, so you pray. After praying, you feel better for a little while, but later when you encounter the matter again you cannot overcome it. Is this not a case of immature stature? Is not a person’s falling into these conditions a trap? This is the bondage of a satanically corrupted nature.”
God’s words clearly exposed my situation. When I failed to do my work and my leader directly assigned it to a new brother, I felt a loss of face, so I was uncomfortable within and full of resentment toward the brother. When he encountered difficulties and asked me to help him, I worried that if I helped him do well the work, he would even more stand out. By then, other brothers and sisters must think that it is a wise decision to replace me with him, and I would be even more embarrassed. Therefore, I no longer regarded him as my brother, but as my rival, inwardly competing with him for position. In order not to be exceeded by him and be looked down on by others, I would rather not uphold the church’s work than help him. I was really too selfish and despicable. How could I have any bit of likeness of a Christian? Actually, we are all brothers and sisters, and in doing the church work, we should be of one mind and funnel our efforts in the same direction to bear witness to God and glorify God. However, for the sake of protecting my own face and status, I treated the young brother as my rival and lived in jealousy and strife. Will it not affect the work of the church if I persist in this way? Am I not doing evil? I can’t go on like this. I must forsake my own satanic corrupt disposition and cooperate well with the young brother to accomplish the church work.
April 10th, 2018 Tuesday, Sunny
These days, I was in a good state while working. When I no longer took into account my own face and position, no longer contended with and schemed against Xiaoyang, but set my heart on how to work with him to finish the church work, I felt much more at ease. At the same time as helping him, I also found out the reason for my previous failure, and had some self-reflection. As we finished the work together, I felt particularly joyful.
May 1st, 2018 Tuesday, Rainy
Today, before the meeting ended, my leader entrusted Xiaoyang with another work, saying that he was the group leader and that I was the member. Hearing this, I couldn’t dare believe my ears and was especially depressed, thinking: “Xiaoyang has not been completely familiar with church matters and still needs me to teach him. How come I become his assistant? If our brothers and sisters know this, where will I hide my face?” The more I thought about it, the sadder I felt. “Is it that he didn’t say that it was me who helped him finish the work last time, so the leader falsely believed that he did it alone and that his work ability is better than mine? It’s too unfair!” I was uncomfortable in my heart, but in order to protect my face, outwardly I still nodded my agreement. On my way home, I trudged along the road, weary and depressed.
When back home, I was so exhausted in my heart that I didn’t want to eat or do anything, and even felt breathing was that taxing. I only wanted to forget all of this and sleep for several days. In agony, I came before God and prayed to Him, “Oh, God! Now my leader assigned me to assist Xiaoyang in doing the work. I am unable to accept it and feel very upset. The more I think about this matter, the more grieved I feel. I know it is the evil influence of my face and status within. O God! May You help me and lead me out of it.”
Thank God for listening to my prayer. At night when I was practicing spiritual devotions, I read God’s words, “You must learn to give up and set aside these things, to yield, to recommend others, to allow them to stand out. Do not struggle furiously and rush to take advantage as soon as you encounter an opportunity to stand out or obtain honor. Learn to back off, but do not delay the performing of your duty. Be a person who performs his duty out of the public eye, and who does not show off before others. The more you give up and set aside, the more peaceful your heart will be and the more space will open up within it, and the more your condition will improve. The more you struggle and compete, the darker will be your condition; try it if you don’t believe it. If you want to turn around this kind of condition, if you want not to be controlled by these things, then you must first set them aside and give them up.”
Then I saw a passage of a sermon about life entry, “You should pursue the truth properly. Don’t do anything honorable, but tutor, support, and help others more in secret. Let others do what they are able to do. You stand out when others are incapable. This is harmonious collaboration. Those who have real ability should be obscure heroes. They hide themselves behind the scenes doing the most crucial things. They do not let others see it, but they do the most important work. This is valuable. God looks upon it. Isn’t it good to be a person like this?”
Oh, God! Thanks for Your guidance. I have understood: Your will is for me to learn to set aside my face and position, no longer fight for my own reputation and status, and no longer show off and hog the limelight before men. I should obey Your arrangement, consider the entire work of the church more, and learn to let go of myself to be a worker behind the scenes, doing some substantive work benefiting the church in obscurity. Only by conducting myself like this can I satisfy Your will and gain peace and joy, and only in this way can I no longer be controlled by fame and gain or be dominated by my highly competitive satanic disposition to resist You. In the past, I always contended with Xiaoyang, and always wanted to obtain the high regard of others, worrying about gaining and losing face and status, thereby leading a very tiring life. Aren’t these the affliction of Satan? I don’t want to live like this anymore. Thank God for guiding the direction of my progress. I am willing to act according to God’s demands, pray more to God, and let Him lead me to break free from the bondage of satanic corrupt disposition, so that I can no longer compete against others but willingly obey God’s orchestrations.
May 8th, 2018 Tuesday, Sunny
Today, Xiaoyang said to me embarrassedly, “Sister, though the leader asked me to take charge of this work, I still need your help because I don’t understand much of the truth.” At that time, I was peaceful and said with a smile, “Regardless of who is in charge of it, we should be of one mind to do the work well. Don’t forget that we are partners.” “Right!” he smiled.
June 6th, 2018 Wednesday, Sunny
Thanks be to God! Over one month has passed. The work we are responsible for is progressing smoothly. Sometimes I was still controlled by my corrupt disposition, feeling being an assistant was a humiliating and thankless job, but when I prayed and cried to God, God’s words I had read before would remind and guide me in time, so that I could willingly set aside my face and status, not seek to prevail over others but fulfill my duty with an open and upright heart.
Thanks to God’s guidance. From this experience, I have tasted God’s love and salvation. When I couldn’t let go of my face and status and lived by my highly competitive nature, it was God’s words that exposed the secret hidden deep within me, making me see clearly my satanic performance of struggling for fame and gain; when I was fooled by Satan again, it was God’s words that pointed out to me the way of practice, making me able to cooperate with the young brother and be willing to be under others. It is God’s salvation that allows me to live so happily and freely now. Thank God! All the glory be to God!
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
yuxin-z
just my fanfictions, ao3 ID: yuxin-z
original-characters-idea-dump
Gremlin
supercap2319
Supercap2319
princessghibli
Princess Ghibli
fastlinechauffeurgbs
Fastline chauffeur services ltd