I hate to be that kid that has to have to call my parents to take me home from a three day summer camp because i had a shutdown and cried because the counselor didn't let be alone instead of going to lunch on the second day but i am

Misconstrued (Part 1)

Synopsys: When Roger hears Freddie and the Reader discussing how their lifestyle has taken a toll of the drummer’s and hers relationship, Roger breaks things off before she can. The only problem is- he didn’t hear the full conversation.

Pairing: Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor x f!Reader

Genre: angst... let’s ring in the New Year with some heartbreak

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 3616

   It had been a gruelling day of rehearsals and the only thing Roger wanted to do, was go to the tour bus and fall into the arms of his girlfriend. His scalp was itching from the amount of hairspray on his head and his biceps were sore from drumming all day.    As he approached the open doors, he heard two voices conversing, which without a question were that of Y/N and Freddie. Roger smiled at that. He had been terrified his friends wouldn’t like her, but they adored the girl, and Freddie had even dubbed her an honorary sister. Well, he wasn’t really afraid they would not like Y/N, he was afraid they wouldn’t like him dating Y/N, for she was Brian’s best friend.    The drummer had met her during a gig at a local college pub. She had been sitting by the bar and conversing with some guy, looking like an absolute angel, when Brian had seen the way Roger couldn’t keep his eyes away from her frame.    “Don’t you even think about it,” the curly haired man slapped his blond counterpart over the head. “She’s off limits.”    “Wh- what do you mean? Do you know her?”    “Of course, I know her. She’s only the best at everything. Top of the class.”    “Hold on,” Roger turned and pointed at Brian, disbelief written all across his face, “are you telling me, someone, that hot is really studying something as nerdy as you do?”    But instead of Brian responding, a sweet voice called the blond out on his bullshit. “So, you’re saying that someone can have the looks but not the brains?”    Roger had never felt his heart beat as fast as it did then. She was behind him, arms crossed, her kissable lips pursed in a thin line and the Y/E/C eyes glinting with amusement. He was at a loss for words. Pathetically he managed to get out some sort of an apology and introduce himself.    Her eyes had lit up, and the way Y/N smiled at him took his breath away. Roger had been in love with from then on, but the conversation flooding out from the bus in the present made him stop in mid-step. “It’s just hard.” It was Y/N speaking. “Half the time he’s away, and whenever he’s free I have lectures. That takes a toll on a relationship. So, I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore. I love it, but my heart’s just not feeling it… I don’t think it has been for a while now.” Roger's heart dropped.

“Do you truly think it’s a good idea?” Freddie asked, concern in his voice. “He’s not gonna be thrilled about it.” He heard Y/N scoff. “Of course, not. But he’s just gonna have to deal with it.” Roger had had enough. Suppressing the tears that threatened to spill, he stormed away from the bus and back to the drum kit at their assigned rehearsal space. Prenter was there, which only fueled his rage, but it wouldn’t matter. Not after he talked to Y/N. Though it would seem easier said than done, for he couldn’t bring himself to face the girl and the truth. It wasn’t until she literally had to stop him, while he was making his way to the bus, when Roger was pulled back to reality.    “Hey, Rog!” Y/N called out jogging up to him and leaning in for a kiss when he turned his head away. She furrowed her brows but shook off the weird behaviour. “So, I kinda need to talk to you.”    “Yeah,” Roger cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “I think we do need to talk, and I’d like to go first.”    “Sure,” Y/N said mimicking his position.    “I- umm- I think we need to stop seeing one another.”    Her voice was barely above a whisper when she responded ten seconds later. “What?”    “Yeah, you know. We’ll be going on tour soon, I’ll be away for months on end and I just don’t think it’s working anymore. No hard feelings though, right?” the last part he said through a chuckle and Roger finally met Y/N’s gaze. What he expected to see was her face filled with relief, not with pain and heartbreak.    “When did this stop working?”    Roger rolled his eyes, putting on the performance of a lifetime breaking his and the girl's heart. “Look, Y/N. What we had was fun, but that is all it was- just shagging and you trailing around us. Which was great, don’t get me wrong, but there are other groupies in the world. Gotta take care of them as well.”    At that point, Y/N had a palm over her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs that literally shook her body. “How can you say that? After two years, how can you say that?” her tone rose with every sentence. “How dare you call me a groupie?” His voice was sharp as a razor as he spat the words out. “Listen you can whore yourself to a different band. I’m done with you.” And those were the words that broke Y/N. “Whore myself? Is that what you really think of me?” “As I said,” Roger replied walking away. “You were just a good shag.” Y/N stood in the middle of the car park, numbly looking after the man she thought was the love of her life. It was like her eyes couldn’t see properly anymore, but somehow, she made her way to the parked car and started the engine, revving out of the stadium and driving herself away from the one person that was her home.

***

The show went off without a hitch, though everyone could see Roger was beating the drums harsher than he usually did, he was more all over the place as if trying to get rid of some pent-up anger. “Wait here love,” Roger said to the first groupie he had found after the performance was over, as he approached the bus, “I’ll be right back.” Fuck, he didn’t even really know how the girl looked like, all his eyes had picked up was flaming red hair and that was it. Her face was too blurry and honestly, he didn’t give two shits, for she would be just another one on the long list of his one-night stands. The list he had quit two years ago when he met Y/N, but now that that was over, it was time to bring out the pen. Sighing he entered the narrow space and was immediately assaulted by the never-ceasing energy of Queen’s lead singer. How he could still be so hyper was beyond the drummer. “Did you hear the good news?!” Freddie jumped up from the couch when Roger entered the bus, water sloshing over the plastic cup he’d been sipping from. “Fred, really I’m not in the mood,” the drummer said grabbing a full whiskey bottle from the table and flinging himself down onto the couch. “What do you mean? Did Y/N not tell you?” “Oh, she didn’t need to,” it was bitter chuckle that came from Roger, as he glared at their front man. “I heard enough of your conversation.” “Then why aren’t you jumping with joy while Brian berates her for abandoning her studies like that?” “What?” Roger was confused, and a sinking feeling appeared in his stomach. “Y/N was gonna come on tour with us. She said she missed you so much, darling, that she’d be willing to put her studying on hold. I thought you two talked. Where is she by the way? I positively remember she promised me she’d be in the front row of the show.” Rogers eyes filled with tears as he dropped the bottle to the ground and tugged at his hair. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, fucking damn it, God fucking damn it!” Brian immediately knew something was wrong. “Rog what did you do?” A horrible minute passed, and everyone could feel the tension rise in the bus when the Roger finally spoke. “I broke up with her.” The words tasted foul like rotten eggs in his mouth. “You what?” Brian was almost fuming as he heard Roger say that, praying it was just alcohol making him speak fallacies. But then again, Roger hadn’t even had a sip of a drink that night, nor had he seen the blond with one during the day. “I broke up with her.” “Why?” it was a confused and hurt looking Deaky that asked the question emerging from their bunks. “Why would you ever do something so stupid?” “Cause I thought she was gonna leave me and I didn’t wanna be the one left in the dust.” “So, you just decide to break her heart instead?” for a second Roger thought Brian’s hair was gonna light on fire from how palpable the anger was. “Fucking hell, Taylor.” The whole bus fell silent, completely opposite of how noisy the outside was, as a bunch of fans and groupies waited for the band to emerge and allow them to bask in their presence. That’s when Roger abruptly stood up and threw on a leather jacket over his sweaty chest. “I hope the only thing on your mind right now, is fixing things with Y/N,” Freddie’s voice had a dangerous note to it. Like if Roger would even think of something else, he’d be personally responsible for the drummer’s death. Roger didn’t reply, simply flung the door open, only to be greeted by Paul. “Shove off Prenter,” Roger said, pushing past the man and out as the guy was just about to press a palm against his chest to push him back inside the bus. Immediately, the groupie grabbed onto his elbow, but he just shook the stranger off. “You can’t just leave like that cause some fling left you,” Paul’s nasally voice called after him as he ran in front of Roger and blocked his path. “If you don’t move, I’ll punch my drumsticks so far down your throat, you’ll be shitting wood for weeks.” “And if you leave now when you have a month left before touring, you’ll be the one to announce to EMI about the departure of Queen’s drummer.” “Oh, shut it, you fucker. You’re nothing but a glorified paperboy so you can stick that high and mighty 'I-care-about-Queen' attitude in someone else’s arsehole. Everyone knows why you’re really sticking around, and no one is buying your bullshit.” Even though Roger’s little outburst was more than unusual, since he liked to keep the temperament on the inside, for the sake of the band, he couldn’t keep this in. Having to deal with how badly he fucked up with Y/N and now Prenter forbidding him to run after the girl who he was fairly certain he’d marry, was not only pressing on his buttons, but it was punching them in and now they were stuck. Roger was pretty sure he’d be reprimanded by the label and maybe even his bandmates, but he didn’t care. With a right hook to Paul’s head, he left the man on the ground and jumped in his car, chasing after Y/N. The whole ride was an anxiety-filled thing. He kept speeding and even got pulled over by a cop. Usually, he’d try and get out of a punishment by having them recognize who the blond was, but now he just accepted the ticket and finished the few miles between him and Y/N.    Roger was sweating and crying as he rushed inside her apartment building and practically flew up the stairs to the fifth floor. Roger didn’t care if he would wake up the whole damn complex, as long as Y/N would come out and talk to him, as long as she gave him a chance to fix everything he had ruined. But it wasn’t her door that opened, it was the flat opposite of hers.    “You know,” Old Miss Marci said, “she’s not here.”    Roger’s head whipped around, as he started at the senile woman. “What? Where is she?”    She shrugged her hunched over shoulders and sighed. “Don’t know. She just got here sometime midday and left. Packed bag and all.” “Please,” he begged the old woman, not giving a shit about his reputation or the fact that someone might come out and see the drummer of Queen in hysterics at his girlfriend’s apartment. “Can you tell me where she went?” “No,” replied Miss Marci. “And even if I did know, I wouldn’t.” “Why?” a broken sob echoed through the hallway. “Because people only cry like that of a broken heart,” she said entering her flat. “And the way Y/N cried… it was like her whole soul had been shattered and shredded.”

***

   Roger spent the night in his car, weeping the whole time and at some point, he must have passed out, for he was awoken by a knock on his window. A giant head full of big brown curls was in the view.    Sniffling Roger straightened up and unlocked the door, letting his friend step inside.    “I take it didn’t go well,” Brian’s voice was soft and the look he gave the blond screamed pity.    “Didn’t even get to talk to her. She’s not home,” through puffy red eyes, Roger looked at Brian. “Any guesses as to where she might have gone?”    A sad sigh passed Brian’s lips. “Probably her parents. But you really have no chance of talking to Y/N there, when she’s that upset.” Brian chuckled, surprising Roger. “When we were twelve, we got into a big argument. So, she made her parents tell me she was away at her grandmother's, simply because she didn’t wanna talk. And when I tried climbing up the tree that connected to her balcony, Y/N had barricaded the whole thing with a couch and taped over her windows with all of her posters, just so I couldn’t see what was going on inside.”    Roger’s lips tugged up at the thought of a young Y/N, sitting in her bedroom and pouting at something Brian had done. She was so headstrong, and it was one of the things that attracted the man to her.    He had tried asking her out that same night they meat, but Y/N had brushed him off.    “Do you really think I don’t know about your reputation, Taylor?”    “Those are just rumours, love.”    A perfectly shaped eyebrow sleeked up in a beautiful arch. “Really? Cause, I’d be inclined to believe what my best friend says about his other friends.”    And once again Roger was flustered, but this time his eyes bore into Brian’s skull, hoping it would combust. “Brian’s talked about me?” He gritted through clenched teeth and Roger swore to wipe off the satisfied smirk that appeared on the brunet’s face after they went outside for a smoke.    “Obviously. You know, he’s very proud of what you all have done.”    “Oh,” Roger smiled at Y/N, and his cheeks turned a bit more red than usual. It wasn’t often that compliments made him blush, and even though it was the girl relaying Brian’s words, the praise that he saw in her eyes struck a chord.    “Is that the only thing he’s told you about me?”    Of course, Roger knew of his reputation, he was sometimes quite proud of it, but not in that moment. When looking at Y/N he wanted to erase every girl he’d ever had sex with, kissed or even thought of. She had already consumed his minds and to be fair, the drummer wasn’t that upset by it.    Y/N sipped on her drink before placing it on the side of the stage where they’d been talking the whole time. “No. he's also mentioned you and your escapades with the groupies.”    Roger nodded, swallowing hard, but the soft smile Y/N gave him ignited a spark of hope, and all of that turned into a raging forest fire when she said, “But I’d like to make my own opinion of you. So how about we start off with a simple coffee date?”    Not once in his life had Roger been asked out, it was always him going up to the girls and batting his eyelashes, before they caved in and he brought them home. Y/N was an enigma, a smart and confident and an absolutely breathtaking woman, and Roger wanted to throw himself in front of a car for letting her go.    Every day he would come to Y/N’s doorstep and ring the bell and every night he would leave the same way- without receiving an answer. He even resorted to knocking on Miss Marci’s door, but she just shooed the boy away.    Brian was no help either, and every time Roger made his way into the studio, his band mate’s mood soured. The blond tried to figure out why the hell Brian was acting so pissed off when he was attempting to fix things with Y/N, his heart clenched at the answer he received.    “She doesn’t even wanna talk to me, simply because she knows there is a possibility of me relaying things to you,” Brian looked at Roger,who was sitting by the drum set at the studio, like he was about to throw his Red Special at the man’s head.    But he didn’t give up and then one evening, thirty-five exhausting days after that horrid fight him and Y/N had had, he finally saw her.    She had her suitcase laying on the ground as she was digging for her keys. Roger was stunned seeing the woman returning to her apartment, but it was like he was an empty space to him.    “You know when people leave for a whole fucking month it’s to get away from the negative things. In my case- to get away from the person who hurt me. So, why don’t you stop pestering Brian and Miss Marci for where I am and move the fuck on.” Y/N’s voice was made of steel as she swung her flat’s door open and trudged inside, not bothering to look if the man would follow. She knew he would.    Roger didn’t hesitate to run inside and fall to his knees, wrapping his arms tightly around Y/N’s legs and burrowing his head between her legs as he cried. “Get up, Taylor. Before my neighbours see you begging like this,” he’d never heard her voice so cold and devout of any emotions. Roger was sick to his stomach realizing it was his doing. “I don’t care,” he sniffled, “I’ll crawl on my stomach if I have to. Please, Y/N. My love, you have to know it was a mistake. I’m an idiot and I misheard things and I’m so so sorry. I know you might not want to see me, but I have to make things right. It’s only been a month. I don’t believe for a second that you don’t love me anymore.” Roger stood up, ready to engulf her in his arms, but what she said froze him. “And this month has put a lot of things in perspective for me,” she looked at Roger like he was vermin. “I have feelings for you, of course, I do. But that is not going to change what you did and what that did to us.” “Don’t say that, darling. What we have is too good to let it go that easily.” “Had Roger, past tense.” “No,” he shook his head. “I won’t accept that.” “Then tell me- did you mean it?” “What?” he understood clearly what Y/N was asking, but he didn’t want to reply. “When you called me a whore- did you mean it?” “Of course not,” two warm palms cupped the girl’s cheeks, but she turned her head to the side. “You know I don’t think of you that way. Never do.” For a second, Roger thought that she’ll place her own hands on top of his and melt at the touch, but instead she pulled them away and left his arms hanging by his sides. “I’m not asking you what you think of me right now. I’m asking you when you were angry at me, did you mean what you said?” The shame in his eyes told Y/N enough. “It doesn’t matter, Rog, if you think I’m a saint when you wake up and I have breakfast ready with a coffee at the side, or you want to throw me to the curb after something doesn’t go your way. When you said those words, you hurt me like no one else had. And now you’ll have to deal with the consequences. There have been so many times I’ve been mad at you, to the point I thought about leaving. But I didn’t. I let myself cool down, just so I didn’t hurt you like you hurt me. Because I loved you and I wanted to make it work. So, just cause you heard a tiny part of a conversation where you hadn't even heard the beginning, doesn’t give you the right to treat me the way you did.” “I know,” the blond sobbed dropping down to his knees once more and fisting his palms in Y/N’s sweats. “I know and I’m so sorry. I’m a complete wanker, just please, Y/N. Please. Don’t give up on me. On us.” Her hands wove through the blond locks, like so many other times they had, only now it felt like a goodbye. “See that’s the thing, Rog- there isn’t anything to give up on anymore.” With that, Y/N detached herself from the man and turned away. “You can show yourself out. I'm pretty sure you have a tour to get to,” she whispered as she made her way to the bedroom, leaving a broken Roger sobbing on the floor.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @perriwiinkle @thiccio-and-thicciet @roseslovedreams @vesoleil @gloomybisexualemo @16wiishes @wanderingsami @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy

A/N: happy 2019!!!! we made it... sorta... kinda... idk, send help.

P.S. what did you think? Part 2???

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged in anything, drop me a message :)

Aggravate//Kim Wonpil (Day6)

Pairing: Kim Wonpil x Reader

Genre: Overall angst, Fluff towards the end

Warnings: Prolly not

Words: 2.1k

(A/N: Might be a lot of typos and kinda trash but this is my first writing outside of fluff so... Yay?!)

I slowly made my way into the nearly empty recording room, the only person present being Wonpil. His eyes were focused on the sheet of lyrics lying on the desk in front of him, he lips mumbling words yet his pupils barely moving along the lines as he slouched forward. He looked awful but I wouldn’t tell him that, he needed my support.

They had finished a major tour and, now, they were back, only to spend more days in the studio and less time relaxing, which was unusual for Wonpil since he always spent the first few days by my side. Maybe it’s been the year or so we’ve been together that made me cling to him like a koala to a tree but I was quickly starting to miss seeing him every night and day, before work and after work, even talking about anything before we went to bed, my only time with him being me sneaking out to see him with crappy excuses. Tonight’s being that I bought them coffee.

I gave a small smile, although he didn’t bother to look up and see it, as I placed one of the coffees by his side, leaving the others on a nearby table. I shyly walked behind his chair, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my cheek to his hair, only receiving an unenthusiastic “hi” and a pat on my hand.

“Where are the others?”

“Went to get food.” Gosh, even his response were monotone and void, but I tried to keep my optimism, hoping it’ll rub off on him.

“Well, you know you could have went. You could probably use the break.”

“Your arms are in the way, (Y/N).” I sighed and rolled my eyes, removing my arms as I stood up straight.

He immediately ducked back down and grabbed his pen, writing a few more lines for his song. I stood there, waiting for some kind of response that proved he acknowledged my existence but he went back to his zombie-like state. Their recent comeback was amazing so, maybe, he was under pressure trying to find something to top it, although everything they did was stellar. But he was pushing himself too hard, it made feel uneasy watching his head tilt to the side as if he were dozing off, my body immediately moving around him to grab the coffee.

“Here, can you at least drink some?” His head immediately perked up as he turned to the room temperature substance, wrapping a hand around mine and the cardboard sleeve before dragging it to his lips.

I watched happily as he drank it before noticing the lid wasn’t on completely, my hands trying to cautiously close it but it was much harder than I thought. I held on tightly to the cup, trying to press down on the lid but seeing it only slip open slightly more, Wonpil groaning while trying to pull away.

“I’m just trying to close it so it doesn’t spill all over y-“

“Dammit!” I jumped back as he screamed out, my hand grasping the cup too hard that it exploded all over the desk, covering his papers and dripping onto him.

I hurriedly placed the useless cup down before rushing to him, trying to help in any way I could.

“I’m so sorry. Just let me hel-“

“No! Stop!” Wonpil stood immediately and I moved back as far as possible, the room much smaller than I remembered as I felt against his synthesizer, gasping as we turned to see it lying on the ground.

Wonpil immediately ran over to place it back on its stand but, instead, only picked up a chipped piece of a key. I felt my heart stop as he stood up and glared at me, my throat growing dry as I tried to stutter out an apology but he was angry. It was something I’ve never seen with him and it was almost terrifying, even when he raised his voice at me I felt like a child being scolded.

“Wonpil,”

“Why are you even here? Every night when you show up, all you do is bother me and distract me! As if things weren’t hard enough, you just made them ten times worse! How the hell am I supposed to fix this, (Y/N)?!”

“I’ll fix it. I’m sorry!”

“No, you won’t. You never supported me being in a band, you can’t even be bothered to just let me work!” I stared at him incredulously, no longer feeling sorry but angry at his words.

“Never supported you? The only reason I come here is because you’re barely home! You tour for months at a time just to hide away here and sleep ever few hours, and all I get is a lousy ‘I’m fine’ text but you’re not! I’ve supported you for the past year and a half, and you think I’m doing this to hurt you?”

“No, you’re doing this to annoy me. Have I ever gone to your job and destroy everything you’ve worked on? No! Because I’m not that fucking selfish!”

I fell silent as I pursed my lips, my eyes stinging with tears as I took a deep breath, trying not to lose myself.

“Wonpil, shut up before we both say something we’ll regret.”

“(Y/N), I want you to just go home, go to bed, and leave me alone!”

The faint squeaking of the door alarmed me that the others were back, and they most likely heard everything, causing my face to grow hot with anger and embarrassment. I looked at Wonpil, seeing his face go between emotions as we stared at one another. Anger, confusion, sadness, regret; all in under a second.

“You know what? I will leave you alone, Wonpil.” I hurriedly turned and headed for the door, moving past the scared yet confused bunch so they wouldn’t see me crying, my teeth sinking into the inside of my cheek as I tried to hold back a sob.

I could hear the faint sounds of them asking what happened with Wonpil’s distressed voice fading as I pushed through the exit, the brisk midnight air hitting my face immediately as I made my way around the corner. Whenever I was upset, I took the long way home, Wonpil pointed it out to me once. But, I decided to take a shortcut this time, knowing that, if he did try to come looking for me, he wouldn’t find me right away.

~*~

I had only been home for twenty minutes but I was already missing it. My eyes stared down at the suitcase and small backpack filled with clothes and other necessities, the chiming on my phone making me both anxious and relieved. Anxious that it may be my friend saying she was outside for me, relieved that it may be Wonpil texting me again. But, even if it was him, I felt like crawling into a hole just so I wouldn’t have to face him. I know he’s just stressed and needed some space to finish his work but, everything he said, it felt like he’s been holding it in for so long. That’s what he always did. He never told me what bothered him but made me tell him my problems, trying to find ways to fix it even when they weren’t in need of fixing. But how could I fix his problems when the problem is me?

Wonpil was always the clingy one when we first started dating. He never let me leave without as much as a hug, he never let me sleep until he knew I ate, he’d even visit me at work just to drop off lunch and tell me he loved me. He knew that his affection would make my stand-offish nature turn into utter neediness? Thinking back, I was always on his back, even if I was just worried about him. Maybe leaving him alone is the best option. Some time apart could probably do us some good.

I slowly grabbed my phone and saw a text from Sungjin, a small sigh leaving as I opened it.

‘Wonpil’s looking for you. Why aren’t you answering?’

I could practically hear his frustration through the words. Now I suddenly became the other’s burden as well. I needed to leave.

I stood from the sofa and slid my phone into my back pocket, gripping my bags and preparing to just head to some bus station, my friend obviously not planning to respond at this time of night. I jumped as I heard the front door slam against the wall before slamming shut, my eyes widening as Wonpil rushed into our living room, his body freezing as we stared at one another. His face contorted a bit as he let a small sob slip past his lips his eyes began to water, my hands immediately dropping my bags to approach him, our arms wrapping around one another as he finally began to cry. I let out a weak gasp as he held onto me tighter, my hands just rubbing his back as he buried his face into my neck.

“Please don’t leave, please. I’m so sorry I yelled at you and called you annoying and said you were selfish; I didn’t mean any of it, (Y/N). I’m so sorry, just don’t leave.” He sounded so broken, his voice shaky as he stuttered out his apology.

I didn’t know what to do now. Part of me wanted to just tell him we should be apart for a few days, part of me wanted to confront him and ask why he said those things if he didn’t mean them, and the rest of me just didn’t want to let him go. I’ve seen him cry many times before yet it was just the same as his anger, it had to take a lot for him to get this way. The residue from our argument still remained, needing to be addressed and swept away yet I couldn’t force that onto him now, not in his state.

I sighed and brought my hands to his shoulders, pushing him so he was standing up right, his face slightly red as tears continued to pour from his eyes and he attempted to silence his sobs. My hands instantly cupped his face as my thumbs wiped away his tears, his eyes opening as I gave a small pursed lip smile. He looked exhausted and defeated, it honestly could have made me cry again.

“What you said hurt me, Wonpil, and, obviously, it hurt you too. But you’re stressed and tired and working your ass off for your career, but you can’t expect me to not worry about or visit you while you’re practicing when you don’t answer your phone after getting off a month long tour. But, you were right before, we need some time apart.”

“(Y/N), plea-“

“I’m not leaving but I will give you your space. I’ll let you work, I’ll let you practice, I’ll let you do whatever needs to be done. We’ll have to talk about this eventually but, until then, I just want you to lay down and sleep and stop worrying. Please.”

I smiled as his face faded into relief. Wonpil leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead, a groan as his tear stained cheek touched my skin, his arms leaving my body before grabbing my bags, carrying them halfway to our room before looking back to me.

“I’ll be there, I promise.” I reassured him, watching his lips curl upwards before heading further back and finally away inside our room.

I sighed and grabbed my phone, quickly texting my friend I no longer needed a ride, not that she would be of any help at 3am anyways. I clicked on Sungjin’s name in my contacts, ready to press call when, suddenly, his name appeared on my screen. I quickly answered.

“(Y/N), have you seen Wonpil?”

“Yeah, he’s about to go to bed. Listen, Sungjin, this may seem like I’m intruding on your lives, but, please go home and rest. All of you. Even take the day off tomorrow to do what you want. Just don’t overwork yourselves.”

There was a brief silence before a simple ‘okay’ was heard, making me sigh a bit.

“Are you and Wonpil okay?” I looked back to the bedroom, the lights off now signaling Wonpil took my advice.

Our argument was heated, and left a few bruises for us both, but I had reasons to forgive him. Yet, I couldn’t use those reasons forever if it did happen again. Besides his apologies and how sincere they were, I still had my doubts. Maybe it wasn’t just stress, maybe he wasn’t just tired. What if I was right before and all the tension from our relationship piled up within him and he finally exploded, and it was all my fault? Would we be fine then? Hell, knowing that I caused my boyfriend’s agitation, would I be alright? No one could tell at this point, and I couldn’t pretend that I did.

“I don’t know, Sungjin. I really don’t know.”

My military experience Pt. 1

I wanted to travel and get the fuck outta Louisiana. My dad and my brother had air force experience. I figured I’d join them. So I called a recruiter and started the process. My mother was really angry.

Shit man. A lot of my cousins around where I was raised are drug dealers. I was a late teenager who was homeschooled that wanted to get away without tons of college debt. The military just seemed like the answer. So I went to the recruiter. Had to train for a few months and make sure I was able to run and be in shape.

My body and running don’t mix. I have an uneven natural balance and my feet are large (I wear size 17) and rigid with no shock support. When I run, my back my hips, and my feet hurt. A lot. I remember running one morning and trying to take all the pain I possibly could and then fainting on the side of the road. This one lady stopped her car and said “oh I thought you were dead”

Awkward.

Anyway, my physical shape was acceptable. I still couldn’t run but I hoped that’d fix itself somehow down the line. I had to focus on the other part: passing the test to get in in the first place. So eventually I got transferred to a base in New Orleans. I had my own hotel room! (that I ended up sharing with this navy dude but whatever) My memory a little hazy but I remember there was a waitress at the restaurant connected to the hotel, and while we were eating, the navy dude made a motion like he was sucking her boobs. I don’t know why I felt the need to share that detail, but yeah. She did have big boobs I guess.

Anyway, we go to the base to take the tests. I think first test I took was the ASVAB. Something like that. Just know it’s an air force assessment test. I had sinus issues and my nose kept running while I was taking the test so I took it slower than my peers I remember. I didn’t want anyone to see my nose running so I waited a bit so I could sneak out unseen and maybe get to the bathroom for some tissue. When I walked out, I instantly get handed the test and everyone is looking at me and the guy is like “nice young man you got an 84!” and everyones looking at me and clapping. Then someone is like “yeah we were waiting on you, about time”

I’m just trying to make sure no one is noticing my nose running the whole time.

Awkward.

I was happy with my score. I didn’t study for the test or anything and it was high enough to get me the job I wanted: Cyber Systems Operator. My main goal with the military was to get computer science experience for 4 years and go get a programming job or something.

Anyway, I had to do physical tests too. The recruiter kept saying don’t mention things you don’t need to mention or you’ll probably get sent home. I understood what he meant. We had to take a drug test. I remember going to the bathroom and this black dude was like yeah do your thing brotha. I was like aight…

I was pretty proud of myself that I was able to piss on command like that. One dude kept having to go back and drink water.

I also remember us getting our blood drawn for something. This one army dude who kept talking all tough was yelling and screaming when the nurse went to draw his blood. The nurse was like “Are you really…a grown man..afraid of getting your blood drawn?”

When it was my turn she said “I hope you not gonna cry like that last guy” lmao

I remember a doctor having to examine me and he asked if I had any birthmarks and I told him I have one near my chest. He asked to see it and I said I didn’t feel comfortable taking my clothes off for that. He looked really annoyed. Later I get the same doctor for another test where he has to feel my balls for something. So I told him “well since you know….we’ve gone this far…I guess I can show you my birthmark. And sorry.”

He told me it didn’t matter anymore and he understood my anxiety.

After all that, it turns out I was SPECIAL and had to go to a doctor who wasn’t on the base about my ears and my feet. So I had to stay in the hotel again then head to the appointments they set for me

My new roommate was an army guy. I didn’t really know much about him but he liked putting the TV on cartoon network. He didn’t seem like he wanted to kill people or anything. Just some white dude who said he wanted to be a cook or something, I don’t remember.

So anyway, I head off to my appointments. I first went to a doctor for my foot. I remember a really hot receptionist chick. I was like damn I wish I lived in New Orleans. I was afraid to make eye contact with her!!! I felt so adultish, filling out paperwork and etc on my own while being afraid of a hot receptionist chick. The doctor talked to me and the whole convo was basically I don’t know if your foot can handle it but hey, might as well try. I agreed.

The other doctor I saw cleaned my ears and things suddenly were louder to me. That blew my mind. I had never really been to an ear doctor before and I didn’t know that was possible.

Blah blah. I go back to the base. After I wait in the waiting room for like 8 HOURS I finally got to go back home. I’m not exaggerating 8 hours. I saw Gridiron Gang and some other movie and I played Halo. I remember when I was playing Halo there was a black chick next to me giving me advice. She was like “you gotta shoot them!!” and I was like “thank you for telling me that I have to shoot people. in this shooting game” She was kinda cute but her yelling was making me nervous which is why I was just like ok I’ll just put the TV back on movies.

So fast foward I end up going back to the New Orleans base months later and I got sworn in as a trainee! I remember this one fellow air force dude said the plot to Inception was bothering him a lot so I tried to explain it. I don’t think my analysis got through to him, but whatever. We get our plane tickets and all that shit. I remember one dude was like “Damn our souls basically belong to the government now” and I was thinking “wow kinda late to be thinking about that huh??”

Fast forward we on the plane. I didn’t get seated next to my fellow air force ppl. I sat by this white lady leaving New Orleans. She was really nice to me. I was kinda spooked by it. I was like “why is this white lady being so nice, she plottin some shit??”

She asked if I was a boy scout or something cause I walked in with a bunch of other teen boys and I was like “Nah we air force” etc. She told me “Thank you for your service” and I was like “well I didn’t really do anything yet ma’am haha” (and I wanted to say I’m doing this to make a better life for myself not for the country but whatever)

I got off and got on another plane in Texas. This plane had a lot more military ppl on it. I sat by this black dude from chicago. He told me I seem really chill, then he pointed at a dude in front of us and said “see that dude? He’s 18. And married.”

“what an idiot. I’ll fuck a girl but I ain’t about to marry her you know??”

I just kinda nodded and said something like “heh yea I’m not tryna do relationships right now, especially marriage tho”

Off the plane. And the whole atmosphere changed. I suddenly felt anxious. I was right to feel that way.

Suddenly people are yelling “GET ON THE BUS” and etc. I realized this is it. This is the start of training. I got on the bus. They explained a bunch of shit to us and told us to walk in the building. This training instructor kept yelling NIKE and I was like who that. And I had a nike shirt on. He was talking about me. Oh shit. I don’t really remember much stuff here but I remember getting yelled at a lot. Stuff like “get up the stairs you moron!” and etc. I later found out these verbal insults are scripted and I shouldn’t take them to heart.

After a bunch of brainwashing seminars and shit we get sent to our dorm. The training instructor who escorted us there was this white man and he swore a few times. Then he told us that if we like rap then we shouldn’t be offended by the swearing. I guess his logic made sense. I didn’t really care but yeah.

The next day we get our REAL training instructor. A black dude. Dude was ripped. And terrifying cause he seemed like he had mood swings. Another  scripted Training Instructor trait. We had to go get our underwear, uniforms, etc. I remember when I had to get my boots. They didn’t have any boots in 17. I was confused. and afraid. I just took a random pair and walked off and this one lady called me back and gave me a pair of 16s. They fit pretty decently. But I was late because of all that. So when I rejoined with the group, the instructor was like “and that’s how you cuff your pants” and I was like “shit. this is gonna come back to haunt me isn’t it??”

It did. I got yelled at for not having my pants cuffed properly several times.

Here’s another thing about my foot: I also can’t stand for long periods of time. I can walk around just fine. But standing in place hurts too. I get fidgety and shift my body to stop the pain. That got noticed by my instructor very quickly–he eventually pulled me aside and asked me what my problem was. I told him and he told me I should go to the doctor soon.

I went to the emergency room. These two chicks had basically graduated from training were there for something, don’t really remember. They asked what was wrong and I said my foot. They went “Awww” and I honestly didn’t know how to take it because there’s this kinda toxic masculine culture I picked up quickly in the military so I couldn’t tell if they were being sarcastic or really saying “aww poor you”

Anyway, I saw the doctor. He told me “hah, you’re fucked” after looking at my foot, which was turning blue. In those words. He asked where I was from and I told him. He mentioned the term “Coonass” that he picked up from when he was stationed in Louisiana. When I told him “coonass” is probably a racist term, he told me “whoa woops I didn’t know.”

He told me he liked me cause I was really laid back and jokey with him despite all what was going on and wrote a waiver saying I can sit or exclude myself from physical activity whenever I wanted.

Hell yeah! (Kinda)

I wasn’t going to be able to graduate with that waiver, so in the end, it was just a temporary relief thing.

I took a psych eval test somewhere in this week and it asked all kinda questions about mental state, suicide, depression, etc. I admitted I was depressed. It was very depressing being in this hostile environment with a foot that was preventing me from doing everything properly.

I later got called in by the psych eval people. I was really worried that saying I was depressed was gonna get me in trouble or something. Turns out I had left a question blank.

“Have you ever considered suicide?”

Well….damn. I think I spaced out when I saw that question. I told the truth. I did as a younger teen. (and I was getting close to there in this situation, because I felt like dead weight and my brain was going numb, but I wasn’t going to tell that psych eval dude that)

He asked why I didn’t do it and I told him because it would bring too much stress on my family. That was that. Back to my dorm. I had an appointment scheduled for my foot (a doctor that wasn’t an ER doctor). Somewhere in all that, I remember we had this speech by this Carl Winslow looking ass instructor. He walked in and said “Yo ass is grass, and I’m the lawnmower.”

My dad told me that quote a lot. I smiled because I finally realized where he got it from.

I didn’t smile after he told us that the government owns us and could sentence us to death if we don’t cooperate though.

Anyway, I remember going to church. You (kinda) have to go. You don’t HAVE to, but if you don’t, you gotta stay back in the dorm and clean up. I’d rather pretend to listen than do that. So yeah. There were two sessions. First session was this small study session or something. This lady put on this christian military music video and I found it a perfect time to nap a bit, as I was pretty sleep-deprived. I woke up and this dude was crying saying it was so touching to see the story of the troop guy coming home to his wife. I was like “yea dope or whatever” (I didn’t see it, as I slept)

After that, we got to the main part of the church. There were different kinds of services you could go to. Even wiccan! But I chose christian, cause I didn’t really want to stand out or anything. It was ALL PROPAGANDA.

Like extremely. The preacher said God wants you to go fight and God doesn’t like cowards. I was like “Alrighty then” and started tuning out anything after that. Whack ass shit.

Fast forward, got to go to my doctor’s appointment. The air force was coming off some type of sex abuse scandal, so the rule was: you can only travel in groups of 2 or more. You cannot travel alone. So I had a partner to come with me. I went to my doctor’s appointment and the doctor told me my foot issue will probably only get worse and I should probably seperate from the military unless I can somehow numb the pain. Damn. I walk out, and my wingman is gone. I was stranded at the damn’s doctor office for hours and I ended up missing lunch. Cool.

I remember calling the office for my dorm and explaining my situation. He kept saying “Trainee, where’s your wingman?” and I kept saying “I don’t know.” Then he said “”You are a waste of The USA’s resources. Goodbye.” and hang up. That kinda hurt my feelings lmao but the doctor near me told me “well it’s not your fault”

That was that. I got transferred to another dorm later. I’ll continue this another time and talk about what happened in that dorm and the end of my military career.

P2 here

Don’t Let Me Quiche You with Feelings

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It’s been about a week and a half since G has lived with Yumi and things have started to get a little bit more comfortable since their first encounter. They’re starting to be a bit used to each other, even though it’s still a bit awkward at times. But that’s pretty normal, considering.

Anyway, Yumi had just come back from, this time school after an event and so this caused her to come over a bit late. However a bit startled by her late arrival and the sudden sound of the door opening, he was expecting her to arrive around this time. He was just laying on the sofa, waiting for her, after all.

“Hey, G!” she calls for him, locking the door behind her. *Hm? he sits up. “I brought some monster cupcakes! Want some?” she asks, enthusiastic. *Sure. Why not? he replies with a somewhat nonchalant smile. “Okay.” 

She takes out a small box, opening it, and takes a cupcake out of it while walking towards him. 

“Here you go!” he gave a cupcake with a bright smile. *Oh. Thanks.

He looked at it for a bit before taking a bite. It was just a simple miniature chocolate monster cupcake with cream cheese on it. I looked handmade, actually. After taking a bite, G thought it was pretty good for such a simple cupcake.

“So… how is it?” *… Where did you buy ‘em? “Aheheh, I didn’t buy them. she giggles awkwardly.

Immediately, G’s face turned into a completely confused expression, as he basically devours the entire thing. This made it even more awkward for Yumi.

“I… made them?” *Sherioushly? Ish really good! he says, enthusiastically, his mouth full. “Well, I’m glad you like ‘em.” she giggles shyly.

He takes his time to eat it before continuing their conversation, wiping off most of the crumbs on his face. Hold on, what the fuck?

*Wait… that doesn't make any sense. No offense, but– “Yeah, I know… it’s weird that I can bake but not cook, right?” *… Yeah, kinda. “Haha, well, I’m not sure either, to be honest with you. It’s weird for me too.” she laughs a bit awkwardly

He pauses for a bit, thinking about it. He ends up shrugging.

*Maybe you just need some practice. he continues.

She shrugs too, making a sound like “i dunno” without actually saying it.

*Well… maybe I could teach you a thing or two? It could help. “That would be cool, actually!” she smiles enthusiastically. *Alright then, let’s go. he says, getting up from the sofa. “Go? Where??” she asks, confused. *To the grocery store. Where else? he turned towards her. “What?? We’re doing this NOW???” she was clearly not up for it. *Sure. The earlier we start, the better. Don’t you want to improve as soon as possible? he started walking towards the door. “Uurrrgh… Fine…”  *Oh. It would be quicker if I teleported us there. he stops himself. “…?” *Here. You’ll need to hold my hand. he puts his hand in front of her. “Oh.” she hesitantly took his hand. *Uh, I’m warning you though… you’ll probably feel a bit nauseous. “I-I think I’ll be fi–

Suddenly, she felt a powerful force pulling her forward. Was this what teleporting was like?  This reflexively made her look up, making her see what was going on in this very short sequence. Even if it lasted but a second, she could see so many ones and zeroes as if they were traversing in a computer code. What the fuck!?

When they finally teleported where they needed to be G opened his eye. It seemed like his eye was closed the whole time the were teleporting.

*Okay, we’re he– Yumi, are you okay?? he asks, realizing she was bent over a bit. “Argh… shit.” she groans holding her head. *Holy shit, what the hell happened?? “I-I’m fine… I think. And I-I dunno… there was so many ones and zeroes, holy shit…” she says with a painful smile. *Holy shit, Yumi, don’t look at The Code directly! “The WHAT??” *It’s… really hard to explain. I don’t even think I can. And… even if i did… you’d probably get an existential crisis or somethin’… “Geez…” she sighed. *But anyway- “…!” she jolted. *… Sorry. Are you sure you’re okay? he asked once more. “Yes, I’m fine.” she smiles a bit more warmly. *Okay, cool. ‘Cause I’ve never transported people with me before. he chuckles nervously.

She was still smiling but she had a very deadly stare thinking that she was going to kill him. I mean, what the fuck!? He could’ve at least tell her that. She’s fine with just taking the bus without her risking her life, y’know. 

Anyway, they quickly head inside as it is super cold outside, considering they’re in the middle of December, right now and Yumi specifically didn’t have a coat on her. Seemed that G was prepared for this though as he brought his coat. When did he have the time to get it? 

In any case, when they were taking the groceries, Yumi had no idea what they were going to make. For some strange reason, G didn’t want to mention what was going to be her first thing she was going to be taught to make. However, he did admit that some of the ingredients they were taking were just regular groceries since they were sort of running out anyway.

However, throughout the entire time they were shopping, they were mostly acting like giant dorks, doing incredibly stupid things that normally would humiliate your kids. Actually, they were basically acting like a bunch of kids. Yumi using the chariot like a while G was sitting in it. G showing off his drifting skills by using it similarly but dashing through the store. Actually, they almost got yelled about that, but since there were very few people during this time the employees didn’t mind too much. 

When they arrived at the freezer area Yumi was extremely cold so G gave her his coat. Like a complete dork, Yumi rolled the sleeves around her face to look like a ninja. She even threw at G a frozen pizza like a Giant Shuriken™ which she yelled out loud. He didn’t get the reference but it was still so unbelievably ridiculous that he burst into laughter after catching it reflexively. A family of humans nearby starred judgingly at the scene. It didn’t help that humans and monsters hanging out were still a bit frowned upon by the older folks. But did Yumi and G care? Fuck no.

After buying everything they needed they took all of their groceries and G teleported them and everything else back at Yumi’s home. They were still laughing about the whole thing. Who knew you could have so much fun going to the grocery store?

“What are we making anyway?” she asks still a bit giggly. *Well, since you’re good at baking I thought maybe we should go with a quiche first. “Oooh! That’s actually a pretty good idea.” she says cheerfully.

Immediately afterward, he shuffles through the bags and pulls out all of the ingredients and a cookbook. 

“Sooo, what are we doing first?” she asks. *I think we should start with the crust first so we can work on the filling when it’ll be baking. he responds, looking through the cookbook. “Okay!” 

Yumi was, oddly enough, very excited about learning how to cook by G in general. It was odd because she really wasn’t up to it at first, but now that they had so much fun, she was just overall super pumped. It was kind of weird, but it wasn’t the first time he’d seen this occasional child-like glee from her.

Anyway, they started off with the crust like he said they would. Making the crust was pretty easy for Yumi, considering she’s made pies befoe, so it wasn’t too much of a hassle. She, pretty quickly, finished molding the pie around a pie pan and heated it in the oven for a little while so it could be preheated before the filling and it wouldn,t be underbaked when the filling was going to be done. 

The filling, however, she made a few mistakes. For one she accidentally mixed up the salt and sugar, her mind thinking she was still making a pie. Thankfully it wasn’t too much, but it might still taste a bit weird. She even almost dropped the entire bowl a couple of times for mixing it too fast. G decided to help her with it, as he could tell it wasn’t easy to mix a bowl with only one arm. Well, she refused a couple of times but ended up giving up when she really realized how much of a hassle it was. It’s much thicker than usual, after all. However, he was tempted to ask how did she even do it before. 

Either way, the filling was done and Yumi decided to take out the crust out of the oven.

“I’ll go get it!” she shouts putting heat mix on, heading to the oven. *Are you sure? he says a bit worried. “Yeah, I’m good.” she confirms, taking out the crust from the oven. *Okay, just- just put it over here.

She nods and carefully aporches him. He turned around to move away but his elbow accidentally hit her hand and she dropped the crust. Fuck.

*Ah shit, fuck I’m so sorry, Yumi. This is–

When he looked back up towards her she was crying. What? What happened? She was muttering “I’m sorry” over and over again. What’s going on?

*Yumi…? Are you okay? he asks worriedly. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

She wasn’t responding as if she was caught up in another world or another distant memory. It was almost terrifying seeing her like this. What the fuck is going on!? 

*Yumi, it’s fine I-… it was my fault- “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again… I’ll do better next time… I’m sorry, I’m sorry! she almost crumbles on the floor.

What the fuck!? He grabs her by the shoulders reflexively. 

*Yumi! Snap out of it, holy fuck! he almost shouts, firmly shaking her. “…!?!?” she was shocked, as if she just came out of a daze, still crying. *Yumi, what the fuck!? It’s not your fault dammit, you literally saw me bump into you! 

She stays silent as if she sort of forgot what just happened, but then realized what she could have said. Seeing that she calmed down he let her go.

*… Yumi, what’s going on? You looked kinda…. traumatized… Did I trigger something? Are you okay?

She was still silent lowering her head, still sniffing a bit, wiping off her tears. She didn’t want to talk about it, not yet anyways. Talking about her childhood traumas to him now was a level of personal information that he was definitely not near to. He didn’t really take it badly that she didn’t want to tell him though. It just made him more worried about the gravity of the situation. He let out a long sigh.

*Sorry… I’m asking too many personal questions, huh? … Well… let’s just forget about this and make some pizza, okay? “O-okay…”

She tried her best to give an honest smile but she was clearly still a bit teary eyed and it really just made everything sadder. For some reason, it just sort of broke his soul to see her like this. But, as much as he wants to know the reason for this insane reaction, he’s not going to ask her until she tells him herself.

For a long portion of my life, I got hung up on the unlikelihood of my existence.

This is not uncommon. We’ve all, at one point or another, idly wondered what might have happened if our parents never met, or something similar. But this sort of wondering goes doubly for adopted people, like me, whose existences are so often driven by one-time, chance encounters that resulted in completely unplanned pregnancies.

But all of our existences are unlikely, the chance meeting of the exact two right cells to create us. And because the thought of that randomness is more than a little terrifying, it’s natural that we ascribe deep meaning to the thought that everything went just so, that we get to exist, even as all of the other us-es that might have been live as shadows haunting our occasional speculations.

The thing I never quite realized about all of my questioning the circumstances of my existence was that it was easier for me to speculate on the unlikelihood of my life, because I, ultimately, had a pretty great, pretty comfortable life. It took a long time, and many years, for me to realize that situating myself at the center of this story made sense if the story was about me, but it erased the stories of so many others. Like my biological mother — what was her life like in the months after she gave me up? Or my parents — what were their lives like waiting for a child?

I am not sure Dan Fogelman, creator of TV’s This Is Us and writer/director of the disastrous new movie Life Itself, has yet made that leap, judging from his reaction to criticism of the new film. For as much as he wants to tell big, epic stories of the unlikelihood of life, he can never escape the comfortable confines of the life of a big-name Hollywood writer, where trauma and pain are things you visit upon characters, not things real people, in our world, have to live with.

If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know this is kind of a weird still to provide. Amazon Studios

Fogelman has built his name as a writer on the sorts of structural tricks and twists that tend to define genre storytellers. But though Fogelman has dabbled in sci-fi and fantasy, it was only for his (genuinely very funny) ABC sitcoms The Neighbors and Galavant. When he unleashes something from his bag of tricks, it tends to be in service of the kinds of intimate, relationship-driven tales of families and lovers that form the backbone of realistic fiction.

When this works, it really works. The vast majority of Fogelman’s twists — especially in This Is Us — exist mostly to keep the audience guessing, but they do a surprisingly good job of replicating the ways that we trick our brains into not thinking about traumatic events.

This Is Us took way too long (a season and a half!) to reveal how its central death happened, but in so doing, it ended up telling a much better story about emotional repression, about trying to stop thinking about the things that hurt so much that you turn your life into a void of feeling and how that can ruin a person, or even a family.

So when Fogelman handles this sort of plot well, it’s manipulative, yes, but it’s also cathartic. We live alongside the characters’ emotional repression, so we, too, get to feel the ways it starts to leak and then burst out of them, in the way that we might also deal with our own grief.

But where constructing a story like this on television allows for ample space to play out the ebb and flow of those emotions, doing so on film is really, really tough.

That’s where Life Itself flops. Fogelman has taken what amounts to a season’s worth of This Is Us twists and reveals (maybe more) and squeezed them into a 109-minute movie. The movie’s truly grating opening 10 minutes involve Samuel L. Jackson reading the stage directions from a screenplay (including instructing the camera to “push in” on certain characters), before completely changing the movie’s protagonist not once but twice, hitting one character with a bus, and breaking the fourth wall over and over. “Get ready for the unexpected!” the movie promises, and it then proceeds to deliver the “unexpected” so ruthlessly that you’ll guess every twist before it happens.

This is all in service to Fogelman’s single most driving thematic concern — the idea that any individual life is a collection of so many small, unlikely events that led not just to one’s own existence but the existence of all of the others that we might value. Thus, Life Itself takes the form of five “chapters” (technically six if we count the Samuel L. Jackson interlude as its own prologue) that detail the lives of several different characters who are important to the movie’s overall puzzle.

And yet the “book” (yes, there is an actual book) that gives the movie its structure wouldn’t be withholding anything from its audience, because its author (who serves as the film’s post-Jackson narrator) would be known to any given readers.

Thus, the twists in Life Itself don’t serve any real purpose other than to keep the audience guessing, dazzled by the random coincidences that make up a life. And it’s here where the movie gets a little mean, because doing this requires glossing over a whole bunch of unpleasantness that Fogelman’s vision simply doesn’t have space for, other than as something to overcome.

One character, for instance, sees both of her parents die at the age of 7, then has to sit in the back seat of the car behind their lifeless bodies — her father missing his head — for an hour while waiting for rescue. She is promptly placed with an uncle who molests her until the age of 15, when she shoots him in the knee and he backs off.

This is presented not as horror but as adversity, as something to overcome. And I’m not saying that people can’t learn to live with trauma, but Life Itself doesn’t have room to explore how that might happen. Its answer to the question of “how do you live with horrible things” is, “Eh, I guess she got some therapy?”

Part of this movie takes place in Spain. Amazon Studios

Reducing trauma into something to be overcome is, ultimately, an extremely privileged point of view, the kind of idea that drives too many “sad white person movies” (of which Life Itself mostly is one). It reduces the genuine struggle of anyone coping with psychological burdens and all-consuming grief or depression into something that can be turned into a three-act structure — or, worse, an aside in a movie that has no time for it.

And, like, Fogelman can create emotionally affecting narratives with psychological weight! This Is Us has examined the story of a black child adopted by a white family with real sensitivity for both sides of that equation, and its best episodes have dug into how everybody can have the best of intentions in a situation like that and still come up wanting.

But even at his best, Fogelman’s work is a little like listening to James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” while shopping for candles in a Pier One: It never stops to question its economic comfort, its upper-class value system, or its essential whiteness. There can be a spiritual balm to that sort of storytelling, especially when it digs into the inability of some white communities in America to really deal with grief or other emotions.

But when a script treats grief and trauma as something to be visited upon characters by a cruel writer, so that we might realize how Everything Is Going to Work Out, it only underlines how everything is going to work out mostly if you have enough money and privilege to make sure it does.

If Life Itself is like shopping for those candles at Pier One, though, then the Barnes & Noble next door is also on fire. There are whole swaths of this movie that exist solely to punish the characters, and even though sections of it are set in 2037, in 1985, and in 2079, the whole thing looks like it takes place in 2013. (There’s not even an attempt to suggest what the future might be like, other than a nod to the idea that New York City bookstore the Strand is somehow not underwater and still selling print books in 2079, which — good for it.)

The movie’s women are all clever, rather than intelligent — and it’s not clear Fogelman understands the difference between the two — and the men don’t fare much better. This is a script larded down with ideas that never stops to consider if you would really marry the man who inadvertently caused your mother to be hit by a bus as a 4-year-old.

There are a few small moments that work in isolation (mostly involving the story of Antonio Banderas as a kindly Spanish olive tycoon — seriously), but the movie as a whole buries itself so deeply in its first half-hour that it can never dig its way out.

But the worst thing about Life Itself is how it can’t realize that it’s limited by its own point-of-view. It harps on the idea of unreliable narrators in literature, without seeming to understand either how the device is used or how it works or how literary critics have approached that idea throughout time.

But it also suggests that all stories de facto have unreliable narrators, because of the limited perspective of those who are telling them. I’d say this is Fogelman’s apology for the movie, embedded in its text, but if he was that self-aware, Life Itself probably wouldn’t exist.

Life Itself is playing in theaters everywhere. Sadly, the second half is just kinda dull, which keeps it from true bad movie magic.

Original Source -> Life Itself is a disaster of a movie, caught in a web of its own privilege

via The Conservative Brief