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[Character Profile - Cheren Viauxcour]

A wonderful template by @alannah-corvaine I saw @snarkyelf do it and wanted to fill it out!

×—ʙᴀꜱɪᴄꜱ—×

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Cherén Viauxcour*

*Cheren's Doman name is currently being reworked. His Eorzean name DOES have the dash above the "e", but im too lazy to do it every time. lol.

ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ(ꜱ): Cheré, Cherri, Cherechere

ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ(ꜱ): N/A

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ / ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪꜰʏ: Cismale, He/Him

ʀᴀᴄᴇ: Viera (Half Viera, Half Au'ra)

ᴀɢᴇ: 38

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ: The 4th Sun Second Umbral Moon (April 4th)

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ: Doma

ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ ꜱɪɢɴ: Menphina, The Lover

ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Previously Doman (...Now Eorzean?)

×—ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ—×

ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ: 5"11

ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ: Thin

ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʏᴘᴇ: He has more feminine proportions than is typical, especially in his thighs and hips, but is overall very thin, almost scrawny. Cheren is regularly mistaken for a woman at first glance!

ʜᴀɪʀ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ: Snow white, with hints of pink on the tips.

ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ: A bright pink. ((No, not pink eye!!))

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇxɪᴏɴ: Cheren has albinism, lending to extremely pale and sensitive skin. He bruises and blemishes easily, not to mention sunburns.

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴍᴀʀᴋꜱ: White magical star patterns across his skin. They glow brighter and dimmer with the flux of the moon.

ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ: None notable.

ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏꜱ: None.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ 🇺🇳🇮🇶🇺🇪 ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ: Albinism: Extremely Pale, Sun Sensitive, Nystagmus. All of Cheren's hair is white, including his eyebrows and lashes. His hair is also extraordinarily long, touching the ground if he doesn't tie it up or braid it.

ᴄʟᴇᴀɴʟɪɴᴇꜱꜱ / ɢʀᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ: Body-wise, Cheren is extremely diligent in waxing any hair that is not on his head, although he claims not to have much anyway.

His everyday cleanliness varies. In his daily life, he is an extremely tidy bun that likes to clean up for not only himself but his loves. He will be extremely fussy about doing the laundry and drying it, so much so that he dislikes modern drying machines that wrinkle the clothing.

However, he does not dislike nature and dirt. He will happily become covered in dirt while gardening, sleep in nature, dive into lakes and ponds... but he will make sure to appropriately clean himself up as much as he can.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴅᴀʏ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ: Cherén dresses extremely feminine the vast majority of the time. He prefers skirts and dresses to pants. His choice of fashion varies between a more club-like style he has developed from his work, and a soft cottage-core sort of fashion.

ᴀᴄᴄᴇꜱꜱᴏʀɪᴇꜱ: A pink leather collar and pink crystal engagement ring.

×—ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ—×

ᴀʟʟᴇʀɢɪᴇꜱ: None that he is aware of, unless you count the sun sensitivity.

ɪʟʟɴᴇꜱꜱᴇꜱ: Cheren doesn't talk about it often, but he has been chronically ill since birth. He was not expected to survive past infancy, then past childhood, then to adulthood. His mother developed a medication that helped him survive, which he now makes himself. It keeps him stable, so long as he does not overexert himself. His illness causes him to be extremely physically weak, compromises his immune system, and makes him prone to recurrent infection.

ᴅɪꜱᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇꜱ: Cheren has a light case of nystagmus as a symptom of his albinism. Although he is relatively unbothered indoors or at night, he struggles to see distances clearly during the day. If he is in direct sunlight, he may struggle to see much more than what is directly in front of his face. He often compensates for this by having his familiar, Chichan, act as a seeing-eye bunny.

ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ ʟᴇᴠᴇʟꜱ: Cheren consistently has high levels of social or emotional energy, he is bright and cheerful most days. However, he is easily taxed by anything physical, as well as usage of strong magic. He can go from perfectly chipper to exhausted very quickly. He is horrendous when it comes to stamina, and cannot maintain levels of physical activity for long at all. This is due to his chronic illness.

ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ: Cheren chooses a vegetarian diet, as did his mother. His tribe was previously vegetarian, but also held the belief that it was worse to waste food than to eat meat. Thus, if he is offered non-vegetarian food, he will gratefully accept it. He will also permit himself to eat meat in times of necessity.

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ: Cheren, as a devotee of Menphina, often participates in night rituals. Left to his own devices, he will stay awake deeply into the night. However, he does enjoy waking up early when he can, as the birdsong of the early sky soothes his soul.

ꜰɪᴛɴᴇꜱꜱ: Due to his condition, Cheren is relatively unfit. He is unable to build healthy stamina as most people may be able to, but he does keep up healthy stretches and yoga, as well as practices pole dancing. He is able to train his body, but his stamina and general strength doesn't improve much.

×—ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ—×

ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ / ᴇxᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ: Cheren comes across to others as extroverted. He is a spunky, social ball of sunshine who happily greets others when he is working. He loves making new friends and acquaintances, even if only for that moment. He is secretly more shy than he behaves, and had little to no friends growing up. Eorzea has brought out the best in him and allowed him to bloom into his new extroverted self!

ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴀᴍᴇɴᴛ: A ball of sunshine? Cheren is usually bright and cheerful, a little mischievous, in proper company. He is always smiling and giggling, and happy to share that joy with others. He has a soft demeanor in general, somewhat like a mother. He behaves much younger than his age outwardly, but attributes this to his long vieran lifespan. Despite his cheerfulness, he is very mature. He just doesn't see any value in presenting himself as too-serious unless the specific event calls for it. He says life is too short to behave like a boring grump. No matter how dire the circumstances, his sweetness and determination to be kind never withers.

ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ: I'm not sure how to describe his communication style... Cheren finds very little value in lying, and tends to be rather open with people. He is happy and friendly, sweet and kind, but doesn't mind telling you the truth if it will benefit you in the long run, but will do his best not to hurt you for no reason.

ɢᴏᴀʟꜱ / ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇꜱ: Cheren's current goal is to settle down and marry his loves, and ressurect his deceased fiancee... or at minimum, put his soul back together.

Overall, he simply desires a happy life with the ones he loves.

ᴠɪʀᴛᴜᴇꜱ: Cheren believes strongly in the good of people. He trusts and loves easily, and is always looking to help others. Even those he dislikes, he affords mercy and a chance at redemption. He will go far out of his way to assist others, to the point that it gets him in trouble. He is also willing to heal and defend those who have wronged him.

ꜰʟᴀᴡꜱ: Cheren believes TOO MUCH in the good of people. He will often disregard his own gut feelings based on the belief that he is being judgemental in order to help or trust someone. Unfortunately, his gut feeling is usually right and he should not have trusted so easily. It's rather easy to take advantage of Cheren's kindness. He is also careless based on this, he believes that if people are kind they will help each other. Additionally, although he will defend and those who have wronged him, he is quick to abandon his own principles and seek revenge on those who have wronged the ones he loves. When it comes to the ones he loves, he will throw away every moral guideline or principal he has in order to protect them and keep them safe, consequences be damned.

Additionally, although Cheren comes across to others as bright and confident, he has very little love for himself. It has improved since moving to Eorzea, but it is still difficult not to view himself as "bad luck" or an anomaly. Different. Wrong.

ꜱᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜꜱ: Cheren is kind, supportive, determined, and loyal.

ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱᴇꜱ: Cheren is reckless, stubborn, and loyal to a fault.

ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ: Losing the ones he loves. Being unable to protect them and himself. Being unable to be loved, and unable to love openly.

ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ: His loves. Reviving Elatha.

Qᴜɪʀᴋꜱ / ᴛɪᴄꜱ: Cheren is particular about many things. He is quite superstitious. You MUST take your shoes off when coming into his house, for example. He often prays to Menphina at night, and partakes in rituals on the night of the full moon. He doesn't cut his long hair as it goes against tradition, and only trims the ends on the night of the new moon. Much of his superstitious behavior and quirks revolve around Menphina.

ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ: Cheren is a Necromancer and his specialty is soul magic. He believes that necromancy is, in essence, a form of "late healing". He doesn't wish to make armies of the dead or anything like that, but seeks the truth of true resurrection. To pursue this, he studies the undead and... yes, has made some of them before.

ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜱ: Cheren regrets being powerless to save Elatha, and subsequently failing his spell to revive him. If he could go back, he would not have tried to perform necromancy on him at all.

×—ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ ɪ—×

((Note: Cheren's family is Chinese but I do not speak Chinese IRL... i'm so sorry if these are botched. They are written last name, first name.))

ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ: Xue Yingyue

Cheren was extremely close with his mother growing up. She supported him in all the ways she was able and allowed him room to discover himself. Although she was very protective of him, she often allowed him to make mistakes if it meant he would learn a valuable lesson. She never scorned his more feminine or soft ways, and focused her efforts on teaching him ethics. She passed away around the time his family fled from Doma.

ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ: Wu Zhao

Cheren and his father are not close. Although his father loves him dearly, he does not approve of Cheren's feminine ways. His adherence to tradition and continuation of their lineage leaves no room for Cheren's preference for men, and he has tried of several occasions to arrange a marriage for him. His father desired for Cheren to be a strong, masculine son who would continue his name... he was in every way a disappointment to this expectation. Wu Zhao was very overprotective of Cheren growing up, preventing him from doing many activities out of fear that his frail son would not survive. As a result, Cheren grew up extremely secluded within their estate, and never pursued a romantic partner of his own choosing until they fled Doma.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ(ꜱ):

Step Mother: Qiu Zhilan Cheren and his step-mother have little to no relationship. Actually, they have a downright hostile one. He has no dislike of her related to her position; It's common in Doma to have multiple wives, and she has been a present figure since he was a child. He dislikes her because she has always hoped that he would fall to some "tragic accident" to be replaced with her daughter, Xishi, as the heir to the family. He is fairly certain she has tried to poison him on multiple occasions, but would never voice this. Despite her schemes towards him, he fears Xishi as well as her mother would be exiled from their family if the truth came to light. As such, he bears her hatred in silence. Cheren calls her by her first name, and is polite to her, but not friendly.

ꜱɪʙʟɪɴɢ(ꜱ):

Sister: Wu Xishi In stark contrast to his relationship with her mother, Chere adores Xishi. He would give her the world in an instant, anything she asked for. He has said before that if she asked for his life, she could have it. He affectionately refers to his little sister as "meimei", and dotes on her. He views her as everything he could never be; strong, confident, and bearing the features of their father's line.

ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ: ---

ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ: ---

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ: ---

×—ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ ɪɪ—×

ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ / ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Panromantic, Homosexual lean

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: Widowed Engaged!

ꜱᴘᴏᴜꜱᴇ: ---

ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ/ꜱɪɢɴɪꜰɪᴄᴀɴᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ(ꜱ):

Fiance: Elatha Clockworker (Deceased) Once upon a time, Cheren was engaged to a lovely au'ra man named Elatha. He was a widowed artisan and craftsman, and also worshipped Menphina. Elatha was murdered when Cheren was deceived by Elatha's ex-brother-in-law, Irin Clockworker. Irin blamed Elatha for the death of his sister, Elatha's previous wife, and decided to gift that same agony to Elatha's current partner. Cheren watched him die before his eyes, but was neither strong enough to defeat Irin, defend Elatha, or heal the fatal wound.

Fiances: Laure Sombremont & Codex Locke Cheren is currently deeply in love with an engaged as a throuple to Laure and Codex! They are planning to move in together soon to a home in Ishgard close to Laure's family.

ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ(ꜱ):

Ex Girlfriend: Adelia d'Anton Adelia was Cheren's first romantic partner in Eorzea: AKA... his first romantic partner of choice, ever! While they very much enjoyed each other's company and had a nice romance, Adelia quickly helped Cheren discover that his... demeaner... in the bedroom was not exactly ideal. She suspected he preferred the company of men, and helped him uncover that for himself. To this day they are close friends, and for a time she helped him spin a lie that they were engaged to ward off his father's attempt to arrange a marriage. They sent him fake starlight cards for quite a few years.

Ex Boyfriend: Audric d'Anton After being told in no uncertain terms by his lovely girlfriend Adelia that he had "no business dating women", she suggested a date with her younger brother, Audric. Cheren would learn through this endeavor that he quite plainly enjoyed the company and comfort of men. Audric and Cheren would eventually determine that their relationship was too messy and amicably broke up, but all of them remain close friends to this day.

ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ: Perhaps his loves, Laure and Codex, are currently his closest friends. He maintains a similarly close relationship with his exes, Adelia and Audric.

(he also has a lot of friends on ffxiv that don't have blogs I know of lmao)

ᴀᴄQᴜᴀɪɴᴛᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ: Cheren would consider most of his friends further than "close", but closer than acquaintances. Only a few of his friends know his true specialties in magic and... fields of study.

ᴄᴏᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀꜱ/ᴄᴏᴍʀᴀᴅᴇꜱ: Cheren is very friendly with his fellow femboys at Femboy Hooters, and tends to make fast friends wherever he works.

ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ: ---

ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ: Qiu, Zhilan, Irin Clockworker

×—ʟɪꜰᴇꜱᴛʏʟᴇ—×

ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: "Entertainer", Healer

ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ: Cheren's previous social class was exceptionally high as he was born to Doman nobility. However, after they fled the Doman occupation, he found himself not quite fitting in anywhere in the world. His father still has extensive funds that Cheren can access upon request, but he prefers to survive by his own means. He makes enough money as an "entertainer" to be comfortable, but it's hard to say exactly what social sphere he is in. Perhaps one could consider him now middle-class?

ᴇᴅᴜᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Although Cheren can act ditzy at times as a feature of his personality, his education was also extensive. He is the only (male) heir of his father and was given advanced education according to Doman high society. This included calligraphy, history, politics, music, and much more. He has the proper education of a highborne heir. Additionally, he loves reading and most of his magical ability was taught to him by his mother or his own extensive studies.

Moving to Eorzea introduced gaps in his education that weren't there before-such as new holidays, traditions, historical conflicts. He has lived in Eorzea for many cycles now, but occasionally he will be forced to inquire as to something he's missed. He speaks and writes common, but has not learned the other Eorzean tongues like Ishgardian.

ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ: Although his father currently lives in Kugane, Cheren lives on his own in a small house in Gridania. Soon, he plans to move with his loves to Ishgard to be near Laure's family.

ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ: Cheren loves domestic hobbies. He was discouraged from feminine hobbies by his father, but secretly encouraged by his mother. He adores drawing, knitting, crocheting, sewing, cooking, gardening... any domestic housewife/househusband activity, you name it!

He is however absolutely dreadful with any kind of technology. If you give him a toaster, he will break it.

ᴠɪᴄᴇꜱ: Cheren enjoys drinking from time to time, but has little to no tolerance for alcohol. This can lead to him getting sloppy in public.

One of his vices is to often pretend that he is fine or overexert himself for others and disregard the constraints of his physical illness.

ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ: None (yet!)

ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ: Cheren spends money on his friends and loves quite flippantly, which can leave him in some trouble!

ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴏʀ ʟᴏɴᴇʀ: Cheren is very social! He loves spending time with others, making new friends, and even just hearing the tales and stories of customers who come to see him. He is genuinely interested in what they have to say.

ꜰᴀɪᴛʜ / ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏɴ: Cherén worships the Moon Mother Menphina, as is a tradition in his tribe. He champions love and lunar magic.

×—ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ & ᴅɪꜱʟɪᴋᴇꜱ—×

ꜰᴏᴏᴅꜱ: Cheren loves fruits and vegetables... and carrots! A stereotypical bunny boy indeed. He also enjoys treats from his homeland, and pastries. He has a sweet tooth for sure!

He can't tolerate alcohol hardly at all! Although he is from the east, he can't tolerate spice much at all.

His tribe had a practice of being vegetarian in order to respect the life of animals, so he doesn't enjoy eating meat much.

ᴄᴏʟᴏʀꜱ: Cheren prefers pastel colors for his own color palette, but there are few colors he dislikes in general, he can usually find a situation where all of them are beautiful. His favorites are white, pastel pink, and pastel blue.

ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇꜱ: His favorite places are out in nature, or somewhere that feels like home. He doesn't mind which of his or his love's places they go to, as long as they are all together. He considers this "feeling" to be home more than anything.

Although he enjoys most places, he dislikes clubs or parties that are extremely packed. When there are so many people that there isn't even space to dance, he somewhat short-circuits and isn't sure what to do with himself! He also dislikes tense places wherein everyone is meant to remain silent, he finds it awkward and the pressure suffocating.

Perhaps surprising to his companions, although he likes Doma abstractly, he finds the politics and bureaucracy of the east to be suffocating in a similar manner.

ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ: His favorite sounds are the sounds of a happy household, the sounds of nature and the forest, and his love's voices. He also has a soft spot for music boxes and music in general. He likes softer music, but if you play him something on any instrument he will be excited to listen.

Cheren dislikes the sounds of loud machinery, such as noisy cars or workshops, the banging of hammers on metal. He finds it grating to his sensitive ears. The sound of gunfire also scares him.

ꜱᴍᴇʟʟꜱ: Cheren loves the smells of nature: Flowers, wet dirt, fresh air. He also likes the perfumes they make in Eorzea and is often wearing them, usually in a sweet floral scent.

He dislikes the smells of industrial machinery, such as oil and grease. He also doesn't especially like the smell of stinky men... most of the time. If his lovers come to him smelling of the workshop and sweat, they are likely to be sent away to wash.

...but sometimes the smell of man is okay. What can he say? He's a horny bunny!

ᴛᴇxᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ: Cheren doesn't have too much of a preference for texture. He finds a use for almost all textures and feelings in this world... but he doesn't particularly like to be sticky... Well. Except for one activity.

ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ: Cheren enjoys the cool air of spring and fall, and the winter if it grants him fluffy snow.

Summer, however, is his worst enemy! NO he can't go swimming on the beach, he'll burn! His sensitive skin is intolerant of even NORMAL daily sunlight, so summer is a nightmare for this poor bunny.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ:

×—ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ—×

ᴊᴏʙ / ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ: Scholar (Cleric) / Reaper, Black Mage

Cheren typically functions as a healer.

In-game this is usually Scholar, though he has other healers leveled as well. When he plays an offensive class it is usually Reaper or Black Mage.

Canonically, Cheren is more of a general mix of magical abilities than strictly one "class" or the other. He studies healing the body as a physician and doctor, as well as magically. He wields a scythe, but is not an in-canon "reaper". He's just... a dude with a scythe. He studies thaumaturgy canonically, but not through any guild. These are his own private studies through various tomes.

ᴀʀᴍᴏʀ ᴛʏᴘᴇ: Caster

ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ(ꜱ): Magic, Scythe, Grimoire

ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ: Cheren is extremely physically weak. He fights almost exclusively at a distance with magic, or with his scythe in an attempt to keep enemies from coming close to him. He excels with shielding his allies and healing injuries. In an emergency he can cast thaumaturgic spells for defense, and primarily relies on ice magic.

Chichan, his celestial familiar, also backs him up in battle with support in the form of healing or ice magic attacks. It's uncommon for Chichan to get involved beyond that, but in an emergency... his fangs might come out.

ᴍᴇʟᴇᴇ ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ꜱᴋɪʟʟꜱ: Cheren has little melee combat skills. He uses his scythe in larges swings to keep enemies at a distance from him as a means of offense and defense, but doesn't have the physical stamina to keep this up long.

ʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ꜱᴋɪʟʟꜱ: ---

ᴏꜰꜰᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ꜱᴋɪʟʟꜱ: Cheren excels in magical healing, but he has some manner of offensive magic. He can wield multiple elemental types of magic, but his go-to affinity is ice magic thanks to his tie to Menphina. This is his most powerful asset.

ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ꜱᴋɪʟʟꜱ: Cheren is known to use shields to protect and heal his allies, and he is also quite creative in his use of ice magic. With it he can form protective ice walls or treacherous paths to block his enemies. He can use other elements of magic in similar ways, but fire magic is perhaps the most difficult for him to use as it directly opposes his natural affinity.

ꜱɪɢɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ: Cheren's greatest ability is healing magic, hands down. He is an exceptional healer, with or without magic. He has knowledge of the common species anatomy and physician's skills.

Offensively, his signature ability is his capability with ice magic, and his familiar, Chichan!

×—ᴍɪꜱᴄᴇʟʟᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ—×

ᴘᴇᴛꜱ / ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴꜱ:

Chichan The Destroyer: A celestial familiar which takes the form of an albino bunny! He claims to have destroyed dalamud.

ᴘʀɪᴢᴇᴅ / ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ: His collar, His engagement ring, Elatha's musicbox, Various remaining things belonging to Elatha and his Mother. Cheren is rather sentimental, but he tries to keep the number of precious items low so that he can keep them in an emergency. They had to leave many things behind when they fled Doma, so now he has an emergency selection ready for tragedy to strike.

ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ: Doman (Chinese), Hingan (Japanese), Common

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴛᴀʟᴇɴᴛꜱ: Does Necromancy count? Cheren is skilled at playing several Doman instruments, such as the guzheng and pipa. He is also extremely good at doman calligraphy, as it was drilled into him since childhood.

Cheren can see and speak with the spirits and ghosts naturally. He's not sure why, but his mother held the same ability. He doesn't see every spirit or ghost however, and isn't sure of the rhyme or reason for which ones he sees. Some have stayed around by choice, some are stuck as vengeful ghosts. Spirits are able to hide themselves from him as well if they realize he can see them. He may see ghosts as clearly as an ordinary person, or in various strange forms. There are even times where he will speak to ghost without realizing what they are until others inform him that no one is there.

Due to this ability, however, it is extremely easy for him to be harmed or possessed by spirits and ghosts.

Cheren's specialties are healing, soul magic, and thaumaturgy.

His magical ability builds and falls with the phases of the moon. On the night of the new moon, he is entirely powerless and Chichan cannot be summoned. On the night of the full moon, he is more powerful than usual.

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ: Cheren is extremely quick to get motion sick. He abhors travel by mechanical means, and especially travel by sea. He prefers to use aetherytes, or travel on foot. He is fond of chcoobos, but mostly because he feels he has a degree of control and trust in the animal.

ɴᴏᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪꜱʜᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ: Cheren's greatest necromatic accomplishment is reviving a stray cat that had been dead for a few hours. The cat is now alive and well, living with his ex-boyfriend Audric. The cat's name is "Furbs" short for "refurbished."

ᴀɴ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ: The loss of Elatha greatly wounded Cheren and spurred his advancements into Necromancy. What was before a slight curiosity bloomed into obsession, and he has recklessly pursued the field ever since with the determination of bringing his dead fiancee back.

Even though he has been able to find love again, he is unable to let go of Elatha. This has affected his current relationship in a few ways, often leading to hesitance or confusion on his part of what to do, how to try to move on... without really moving on.

He just can't let him go. He can't.

#ffxiv rp #Cheren Viauxcour #plot

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ofglamour · 10 months

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open starter for @cagliostrostart // the glitz blitz!

⸻ Dollie, the epitome of unbridled insensitivity and charisma, stands outside of the center stage in the midst of The Glitz Blitz, a knock-out style tournament hosted by the royals (as a rather bizarre distraction from the leak about human sacrifices, but we weren't going to go into that). Clutching a tiny microphone in her perfectly manicured hand, she gazes into the camera with a signature wide smile, unfazed by the grim surroundings of the fighting arena.

"And…we're back!" she chirps, her tone as chipper as a morning bird (a mask she'd worked very hard on putting up). "We're back with another electrifying round of The Glitz Blitz! The place where champions rise, hearts race, and warriors, like, totally kick ass! Speaking of kicks—you, like, totally haven't had spice until you've tried Giovanni's Spicy Beef Bulgogi and Gnocchi!" Dollie winks at the camera, her tone completely unbothered by the contrast between her lively promotion and the serious nature of the event.

With a swift turn, she directs her attention to the closest person nearby, shoving the tiny mic in their face with eager anticipation. "You! What do you think of the tournaments so far? Like, the thrill, the action, and, of course, the fantastic food recommendations!" She pauses to wink at the camera again, "It's like, a total rollercoaster of excitement, right?" Her false enthusiasm remains intact, even amidst the peculiar and unsettling environment around.

#♡ ― starter. / the city’s restless; they’re all around me.#cag: event 003 #this can be an audience member or a fighter or anyone! i tried to leave it open hehe

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fortunawren · 10 months

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III. Amare

Dear Venus,

I hate this world and everything in it sometimes. I wish it would implode and wipe the slate of time clean. But then I hate myself for hating so recklessly. I hate that I hate because I so desperately want to love. I want to be "to the brim" full of it. I want to smile on muggy days, rainy days, tragic days, silent days. I want to be one of those cardboard NPCs—so fucking deliriously happy without notion, and without question. I want to be downright chipper, dammit; socks with sandals unbothered. Pass me the rose-colored glasses and I'll wear them until my head starts to spin.

But these people don't need my love. Not one bit. They have love. They have overbearing mothers that cook their favorite meals when they come home for the long weekend. They have fathers that check the oil in their cars, and buy them sixteen packs of sour skittles because they mentioned off-handedly that it's what they like right now. They have aunts, uncles, cousins. Brothers and sisters. A best friend. Hell, they even have friends that make their days special with intention.

So, why would they want me?

In lieu of people, I'm everything else like the morning drive to work even though it is stop-and-go and a waste of perfectly good gas. Sometimes I take pictures of the sunrise even though I really do hate this place.

But...

Today I woke up in a daze.

My goal was to write something and publish it, and I did--even though I'm probably not using my literary training for good. But, your son is hitting my line back to back and it's a thrilling feeling because he was ripped out of the pages of the hottest erotica and served to me on pink plates.

I could make him everything and that scares me most of all.

Speaking of your son, he's not very easy. I know it won't be easy. He will get busy, and he will leave in pursuit of his own needs, and it will hurt. I'll make it through, but it might scar.

I think that's what makes him such a perfect muse.

Yours,

Fortuna

(Excerpt from 'Letters to Venus' by Fortuna Wren)

#letters to venus #fortuna wren #poetry #postmodernism #poems and quotes #poems on tumblr #original poem #short poem #poems and poetry #poetrycommunity #poemsbyme #letters #booktok #free

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noctuascion · 4 years

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;; Cryptage server bullied me now I rebel ;;

There wasn't a cloud in the sky when Elliott arrived to a familiar little home, a half-synthetic hand in his own, squeezing in reassurance and support.

It was Mother's Day. Park had desperately wanted to visit Mystik, but she had insisted it was far too dangerous, especially if he was going to bring Mirage. It was just asking for attention, and any attention on both of them was unwanted.

He had wished her a happy Mother's Day (she teased him, saying he was just some little brat she had raised, but he knew better; it meant a lot), and the two departed to visit Elliott's mother instead.

Park has met Evelyn Witt, famous engineer and mother of Elliott Witt. Park knew the story, the loss of Elliott's bothers and Evelyn's fluctuating memory. Apparently, she'd been good these past few days, but, for some reason, Elliott had convinced himself that she was going to forget, that she'd take one look at him and not recognize him.

It took everything in Park not to fear for the same.

Once they had walked up to the door, the trickster knocked on the door, and the two anxiously waited for her to answer. Elliott had a small bouquet of flowers in hand, trying to force his anxiety down and smile through it. It wasn't working; Park could see how fake it was, that it was edging just on the territory of a "Mirage smile."

Evelyn soon came into view, the door opening to reveal her smiling visage.

"Hey, mom!" Elliott said, grinning just from being able to see his mother. "Happy Mother's Day!"

"Elli, sweetheart, so good to see you," she said, though, when she laid eyes on Park, her expression changed a bit. "Oh? Who's your friend?"

The trickster felt his heart sink, looking over to Tae Joon, who looked a little surprised but ultimately unbothered. Park's own gaze moved to the other's, gently squeezing his hand again when he saw just how upset the other was.

"Um, I'm Hyeon Kim," the hacker said, looking over to Evelyn again and letting a smile of his own curl his lips. "I'm… Elliott's boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?" Evelyn gasped, immediately moving aside and waving for them to come inside. "Get in here! I need to know how someone managed to get my sweet boy to finally settle down."

Funny. She said that last time, Park thought sadly, following after Elliott, who hadn't wiped that dour look off of his face.

The visit had consisted of Elliott retelling the story of how he and Park got together, trying to recount every detail, whilst his mother listened on, enraptured by the tale. Park was rather silent the whole time, merely holding Elliott's hand.

Aside from that one incident, she seemed to be decently coherent. She seemed to only have forgotten Park for a little bit. It had shaken Elliott's confidence in the situation just a bit, but he recovered rather quickly, back to his chipper self and joking around with the woman, only for Evelyn to threaten to show his boyfriend his baby pictures. Elliott was quick to profusely apologize.

Park had actually been enjoying himself as well. Evelyn was respectful and asked him questions about his drone, the little device in a holster on his back. (Elliott had said he didn't need to bring it, but Park was paranoid prepared for any scenario, and his drone never left his side, even for friendly visits.) He had tossed it out for awhile and let Evelyn examine it a bit, the little drone beeping in amusement when she gently poked it. It ended up joining them for a portion of the visit, floating by Park's side and beeping little responses that made the Witts laugh.

They had even gotten through dinner without incident. Evelyn had demanded Park try her famous pork chops, saying that, though Elliott was an amazing cook himself, she had her own special way of making them. Park hadn't bothered to tell her he had already tried them, so he just nodded.

They joked during dinner, Elliott poking fun at Park and Evelyn telling him to respect his boyfriend, and, really, Elliott had believed the visit was going to go perfectly aside from the slight bump in he road.

They were just about to leave, and Elliott had thrown his jacket on, looking to where his mother was standing, and felt a pit form in his stomach when he saw confusion in her features.

"Did I invite you boys over?" she asked, and even Park felt his heart shatter at the question. "Ah. I guess it doesn't matter. I hope you two enjoyed your stay. Have a wonderful day."

Elliott stared at her for a moment, heartbroken, before he nodded numbly, swallowing down the tears threatening to spill over. "Y-Yeah… Yeah. Um… Happy Mother's Day."

She laughed softly. "That's today? Oh, I would love to celebrate, but I never did have any children."

Park watched as Elliott tried so hard not to break, the agony threatening to crumble his very being, before he shot her one of those famous Mirage smiles. It hurt to see, like a knife directly to his heart, a stabbing pain that throbbed and ached.

"Well… we'll see you another time."

With that, Elliott reached out for Park's wrist, and the hacker was pulled out of the house, the door shutting quietly behind them.

The ride back was quiet, somber. Elliott had been fighting back tears the entire time, gripping Park's hand with enough force to shake the trickster's own. He took deep breaths, idly rubbed his other's half hand with his thumb—anything that kept him from thinking about it, about how he was being forgotten by the last bit of family he had left.

When they got back to the complex, Elliott hurried to his room, catching a few glances from the other Legends. None of them knew about Elliott's mother. He didn't have the heart to be able to relay this knowledge to them, didn't trust them enough with it. They were only allowed to see Mirage, just like everyone else—everyone but her and Park.

The hacker had followed him, hot on his heels, and, once the door was shut behind him, he was immediately pulled into a bone-crushing hug, heard the broken sobs, felt the man so well held together finally crumble. He felt the warmth of tears, the shaking of such a strong frame. Park himself wanted to cry with him, because no one like Elliott deserved to ever be in so much pain, but he couldn't let that happen, couldn't let Elliott be weak without someone to be strong for him.

"I don't want to lose her, too…" the trickster managed between the sobs ripped from his throat, letting Park's gentle hands rub up and down his back, trying to relieve the tension there. "I can't—I-I can't lose mom, too… I've lost so many people already—I…"

Park remained silent, knowing there wasn't anything in the world he could say to make it all go away. He couldn't make Elliott smile, couldn't give Evelyn her memories back. He couldn't bring back Elliott's brothers, and he can't bring back the others he's lost. He can't fill the endless void of loneliness, the agony swirling like an endless vortex that's gained hold of his heart. When it all came crashing down, and Mirage wasn't enough to hide it, Park would do what he could for him.

He could only hold him, let him weep, hold him through it all. He wouldn't let him suffer alone anymore.

Even when his legs grew tired, when the other's hold grew too tight, and even when his arms started to hurt from trying to console him, he didn't move nor complain. He stood there and let him continue releasing the sadness he keeps so diligently bottled up.

He was quiet when Elliott was loud, just as it always was.

#cryptage #lenardo does a write #mmm not as sad as i wanted #we'll try again tomorrow 😔#hope you all enjoyed at least !!!

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cesabutterflywrites · 4 years

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The Duke of the Bay: Part 5 1/2

If you want to be put on a taglist for this please let me know!

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

Song that Alice sings is on the playlist, it’s called April Showers

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part

Story Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia, ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Warnings: None I can think of. Ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Word Count: 3149

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

Logan paid deep attention to Patton. He had been concerned about his partner’s mental state since they had started the case before they were invited to the party. There was something about this particular job that blinded Patton with obsession.

After they met the Duke, it had only gotten worse. Patton hardly ate lunch anymore. He’d come in with bruised circles underneath his eyes. Logan was starting to worry for his friend’s physical well being. Was he getting sick? Was he going mad?

He would focus on the case, sure, but they both couldn’t do much without telling the captain. Patton wanted to wait to bring it up to their superior. He planned on duping the Duke, but he refused to say how at the time. Logan only went with it because it would do more harm than good to try to reason with someone as stubborn as Patton.

For the past month, Patton would pause his work when they were at their desks. Logan would look up often to see Patton staring off nowhere. His partner would get a dreamy look in his eyes. So Logan would ask him what was on his mind. Then Patton would brush it off until it happened again.

Logan would be the first person to admit that he wasn’t too good with reading people. That’s what Patton was for, but he could tell that something big happened to Patton when they were separated the night of the party. He was frustrated that he wasn’t able to figure out exactly what was said. He wished he could have been in the room where it happened.

Logan wasn’t exactly stable after the party, himself, so he tried not to bring it up.

Logan was skeptical that Patton was clear-headed enough to keep working the case. Was he seeing things that weren’t there? Did the Duke play to his sensitivities? The kind detective was sometimes overly faithful in people. Logan knew that. Perhaps Patton thought he would be able to change him? The recent events worried Logan to think Patton was spiraling out of control.

Despite his worry, he listened as Patton told them his theory.

“I was wondering why the captain approved our going undercover to the party. You knew it was a trap. You saw it. Clear as day, you did. Heck, you said yourself you suspected a plant.”

“I didn’t imply that it was the captain .” Logan interrupted with an exasperated tone, “This isn’t sufficient enough proof, or new information.”

“Wait, that’s not all.” Patton responded, holding up his hand. He continued, his voice getting more animated. “Last night, when the Duke visited me, he said they had a big job. There’s something he said that’s been getting under my skin. He wasn’t sure of my loyalties. Why not the force’s? Why not ours?

“Further, he mentioned they had a big job last night. He didn’t want us getting in the way. You got there early, Logan, did the captain mention anything about a robbery? A murder? Kidnapping? Anything that could be a clue as to what the ‘big job’ was?”

Logan clenched his jaw in thought. That was a more compelling thought. The captain hadn’t mentioned anything to him that morning. In fact, he didn’t even greet Logan when he walked in. He just went straight to his office to lock himself in. Their boss had closed the blinds, too, and had a scowl on his face that Logan had never seen.

It hadn’t bothered Logan in the moment. Logan had done the same to Patton multiple times. He had then dismissed it as the captain being nervous about his child being on the way. Many men who were first time fathers seemed that way. However, if it weren’t that...

It wasn’t enough to convince him fully. Implying the captain was working alongside a criminal was serious enough. The very idea of him being a part of an entire criminal operation was unthinkable. He was the one who put Logan and Patton on the Duke’s case when they first got wind of the implant of the mafia in Emeryville.

What did that say of the captain’s confidence in their talents as detectives? If he was in on it, if he was turned, he thought they were gullible. He probably thought they weren’t loyal enough. Maybe he even would have planned for them to be scapegoats if the police were discovered to be in league with the gang.

If he wasn’t in it, he thought they could handle it. He probably approved the undercover job for the party to gather evidence quietly to be able to bust the operation later. There could be reasonable explanations to it all that would be revealed.

He didn’t give them much to work with, though. He just said to play it out for as long as they could keep the cover. He seemed unbothered when they returned with nothing. Not even information. What did that say to Logan?

“I think it’s definitely possible,” Alice piped up in the silence. “The Duke gets a tighter grip on this town every day. If he didn’t already have the captain, he will soon. That’s the facts, boys.”

Patton smiled, glad someone agreed with him. He looked at Logan with hope in his eyes. “I know you don’t trust me right now, partner. So I’ll let you decide for us in case my judgement is wrong...again.”

Something about that last statement made Logan rethink his thoughts on his partner’s mental state. Patton had a look on his face that showed determination. He did seem to be operating with a clearer head than before. What had happened to him last night? After a long minute, Logan made his decision.

“Fine,” he agreed, “We should assume the captain is in on it. If we do that, though, we assume everyone but us is in on it. We need to find proof in the meantime, though, as well as a safe place for Alice to stay.”

“What do you mean?” Alice asked, a defensive tone in her voice. She spun around to look at the two men.

“I mean they must know where you live. If there’s a price on you, they’ll look here first. Patton,” he looked at the older man, “Both of our homes are compromised, but I think she has a better chance with me. The Duke actually invaded your home. Does that sound okay to you?”

Patton ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t like the idea of Alice being out of his sight for too long. There was something about her that sparked a protective instinct within him. Maybe it was her small frame. Maybe it was her sweet brown eyes that were so much older than her body. He wanted to make sure she never hurt or struggled again. He would deal with that feeling later, though. Her safety meant everything to him, second to catching the Duke.

“You’re right, Logan,” he sighed, deflated. “Alice, what do you think?”

Alice bit her lip in thought. She kept glancing between the men and her vanity. It was obviously more to her than a place to get ready. It held a piece of her soul. It was an altar of hope. Hope for a better future with the woman she loved.

She thought about Lola. What would she want the person she loved most in the world to do? If her girlfriend had left her a note for this situation, what would she have written? Alice felt in her heart that she knew the answer.

“Let me pack a bag, then we’ll get out of here.” Alice smiled softly, “The rent is paid through ‘til next month, anyways.”

Patton cheered inside. He was happy that it was easy to convince her to let him help. Gentle coaxing did work, after all. Well, that and a little bit of peril. He grinned at his two companions. He was determined to get this case closed once and for all.

Catch me if you can, the Duke’s voice whispered in his mind. A challenge that Patton felt for the first time in a month that he will finish.

-----

Alice walked into Logan’s house with wide eyes. It was large, too large for one single man. It was nearly a manor. The hardwood floor stretched into a wide entryway. There was not a speck of dust out of place. Unlike the rooms in the Lion’s Den, Logan’s home had clear air. The furniture was lined up perfectly along the walls. It was bright, open.

She walked further in to look in the living room to her right. There was a fireplace, and above the mantle was a large painting nearly as tall as her. It was of a lighthouse on a cliff during the day. The blue sky was clear, the image of the waves crashing to the cliffs were so realistic she was sure they were moving. The picture made her feel calmer. Despite how large it was, it really brightened the large room. Alice felt safe, which was a foreign feeling to her outside of being with Lola.

She heard Detective Patton walk in with her two bags. She didn’t own much, so she packed lightly. It hurt to be away from the love notes Lola left her, but Logan was kind enough to offer to pay for her to send a telegram. She saw why he did now. The man must have been loaded with cash.

Patton took the bags up the stairs without a word to her. Logan walked in after, coming up to stand next to her to also look at the large painting.

“I never get tired of it,” he whispered, “It’s magnificent to me. I find it calming to look at it for hours after a long day at work. It clears my head. It calms me.”

“Me too,” Alice responded.

Logan smiled fondly at her. He didn’t leer at her like other men did. He was kind to her, just like Patton was. A part of her felt guilty for siccing Lola on him at the party. The other part didn’t, because without that she’d probably be dead in a ditch somewhere. That was an unpleasant thought, though, so she shoved it aside.

“Let me give you a tour of the house?” Logan offered his arm to her, “It would be wise, seeing as you will be here for an undetermined amount of time.”

Alice smiled and accepted the offer. She took his arm then walked with him around the home.

They toured the downstairs. His rooms were proper. They held sophistication. The various sitting rooms were adorned with bright whites, pastel blues, and golden trimmings. They were surprisingly clean of any mess. Logan must have servants somewhere, she decided.

The last room in the downstairs tour was a music room. There was a grand piano on a raised platform in the middle of the room. Alice felt tears prickle in her eyes. It had been so long since she had played. She hadn’t been able to since she was fourteen.

Logan recognized the look on her face. It was the face of a musician who had lost her melodies. If there was one thing he could read on a person, it was the love of music. She tried to mask her sadness.

He felt sorry for her. He couldn’t imagine going through something like this. She was like a young lamb, treading through a dark forest after losing her way. Well, maybe he could help her find her way again.

“Do you play?” he asked her. He unlinked their arms to step on the platform.

Alice laughed to mask her pain at the memories starting to make their way back into her head. “Oh, not since I was a younger girl.”

“Would you like to play something for me?” Logan offered. He was careful to watch her reaction. He didn’t want to push her.

She blushed pink at the offer. Her hands clasped together nervously against her stomach. “I don’t think I should…”

“Please, I insist. While you’re here you have access to everything. If you’d like to practice again,” Logan grabbed her hand, “Now is the time to start.”

She stood up on the platform to be at level with the young detective. He was charming in his awkwardness. What was it about this moment, though, that expelled his usual discomfort around her? His blue eyes twinkled in anticipation. He genuinely wanted to hear her play.

“I suppose I can see if there’s something I remember…” she acquiesced. She sat on the cushioned bench. It was surprisingly comfortable, she noticed. Her parents never had something this comfortable for her hours of practice. Perhaps this would be easier than

She gingerly lifted the cover to the keys. The sight of the polished ivory elicited an astonished gasp. Her fingers were aching to glide across them. A spark of joyous anticipation covered her skin.

Tentatively, almost as if she were scared the keys would disappear, she touched the middle C. It felt cool, like a refreshing drink of sweet tea in the heat of summer. A pleased shiver made its way down her spine.

As she pressed her finger down on the key, Logan grinned. It was like watching a puppy search around its new home. The way her smile glowed with warmth at the instrument resembled someone greeting an old friend after a long time apart. He felt proud of himself for offering this opportunity to her. With bated breath, he waited to see what she could come up with.

She played some scales, remembering her finger placements as if it were only yesterday she last played. The warm ups felt good to her digits. She laughed in glee. Her chest felt light.

For a moment, she wasn’t a young girl in danger of being killed for a debt she couldn’t repay. For a moment, Logan wasn’t a detective there to protect her from harm. She was a performer, and he was her enraptured audience. She played with a few random melodies before she found herself playing a familiar song. The last song she learned right after her world turned dark.

“Life is not a highway strewn with flowers

Still it holds a goodly share of bliss

When the sun gives way to April showers

Here is the point you should never miss”

She sang along to the melody. Her alto voice washed over her audience of one like rain.. Logan felt himself nearly hit back from an unseen physical impact. He listened closely as her eyes shined in relief at being able to play.

“Though April showers may come your way

They bring the flowers that bloom in May

So if it's raining, have no regrets

Because it isn't raining rain, you know, It's raining violets,”

Patton followed the music to find Logan and Alice. He didn’t want to stay too long, any minute passed idly was one more minute the Duke got further ahead of him. However, when he walked in on the young girl playing her heart out at the piano, those thoughts left him momentarily. He walked up to stand against the piano with Logan, and joined Alice to sing in harmony. His soft Irish tenor voice mixed a wonderful harmony with her smooth southern alto melody.

“And where you see clouds upon the hills

You soon will see crowds of daffodils

So keep on looking for a blue bird, And list'ning for his song

Whenever April showers come along”

She held out the last note with Patton, the two of them fading out sweetly. Logan applauded as Patton playfully bowed. She wiped at the tears threatening to escape her eyes, feeling overwhelmed after the tumultuous events of the day. Reality was starting to seep in for her.

She stood up swiftly. “Alright, enough dilly-dallying. What’s the plan here? Will I be here by myself?”

Logan looked to Patton, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. However if only one of us goes in to explain what happened with Mr. Doris this morning, it may be suspicious.”

“You’re right Logan. I just can’t think of which of us should stay here with her, though.” Patton brought his hand up to cup his chin. This was still a bump in the road.

“I think...I think you should stay, Patton. They’d search your house if they saw you were missing, and it would buy time before they searched here for you.” Logan suggested carefully. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was putting his partner on the bench on purpose.

Patton stood there, torn between wanting to get in the action of finding the Duke, and protecting his target. He ran his hand through his hair nervously. He looked at Alice, who seemed so tired. He noticed his breathing was starting to sharpen. Her brown eyes were tinted with red on the edges from holding back tears. She looked like she was on the edge of hysteria.

“Kiddo,” he spoke. He was unsure where the affection came from, but he continued, “You should go lay down. You seem tired.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she agreed quickly. “Upstairs, right?”

Logan nodded, “ First door to your left is a guestroom. Make yourself comfortable.”

Alice nodded tiredly. She stood up and hugged the two detectives. “Thank you so much, boys.” Tears escaped as she sobbed into their chests. The trio stayed in their warm embrace a moment longer before Alice left to retire to her new bed.

“Okay, Logan.” Patton started. “I don’t think I can stay here. I need to be on top of this.”

“I know this, Patton, but what if you go too far? You’ve been diving too deep,” Logan softened at the look in Patton’s eyes. “What happened when you were alone with him?”

Patton shook his head, refusing to tell Logan. “I can’t, my friend. Please trust me though? I’ll be careful.”

Logan sighed. It had some advantages to having Patton take lead. He was the one who knew what to look for. He was the one who thought up all this stuff in the first place. Plus the Duke seemed to have a fascination with him.

However, if one more meeting were to happen, would he lose his partner? How far was too far?

“Alright,” Logan decided, “We’re both going to go. I have someone who can watch her.”

“Who?” Patton asked, “We can’t trust anyone on the force.”

“It would be unwise to say. Just trust me, as much as I’m trusting you.” He couldn’t have Patton know yet. He wouldn’t betray his friend like that yet, especially after the sacrifices they both were making.

“Okay,” Patton nodded, choosing to keep his suspicions to himself. “Go call, I’ll wait in the car.”

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dong-hyucks · 7 years

Text

Intellectual ; Hyuk [final!part]

Characters: Hyuk (Sanghyuk) / Reader / ft. VIXX Genre: Angst, College AU A/N: i’m sorry this took so long!! Enjoy :) also!! There is swearing involved but it’s quite minor

Masterlists || 1 | 2 | 3 |

“What was that?” you asked upon sitting down. When you didn’t receive an answer, you shrugged him off, taking a sip of your coffee.

You really didn’t understand Han Sanghyuk.

After the incident at the VIXX Café. you had begun to watch Sanghyuk more closely. He had changed-- he wasn’t the standoffish, unbearable man you were partnered up with anymore. Somewhere along the line, he had become someone else. To you, he looks softer somehow. As if all of his bold, sharp edges melted to reveal whomever he was inside. It was strange, lack of a better word. You weren’t yet used to the small smiles he’d send you, the lingering glances you’d notice in class, the sudden rise of conversation.

You had even gone to ask his friends if something was happening in Sanghyuk’s mysterious life-- mysterious to you, anyhow. It took you a while to muster even a bout of courage of any kind, as whenever you neared his friends something would tell you to turn and walk away. You weren’t sure if it was because of fear -- the possibility that they may, and most probably would, tell Sanghyuk you were asking about him -- or because they seemed to always be around Sanghyuk.

Now that you think about it, it was most likely both.

The day you finally went up to his group of companions, it was several days after you made the initial choice to ask about Sanghyuk. You blamed it on your cowardice, which was true for the most part.

You found them lounging outside campus, sitting in what could be considered a semi-circle if you squinted. The bunch of them -- excluding Sanghyuk, for you knew he was inside taking an exam (an exam for a subject that you had been lucky enough to know quite well, so you finished long before him) -- sat idling, completely unaware of your approaching presence. You could recognize a majority of the few, only one face unfamiliar to your eyes.

When you walked up to them, you could feel your legs trembling with dismay. Why you dreaded the confrontation so much, you hadn’t a single clue. Something about the entire situation just threw you off. As you neared the group, you paused, took a deep breath, before tapping the nearest male -- someone you recognized as Hakyeon. He jumped slightly, something you smiled slightly at, before turning around. Upon setting his eyes on you, a small smile of recognition graced his features. “[Y/N],” he greeted, easily gaining the attention of the three others, “You’re out early. Or is Hyuk just that slow?”

You had the sense to laugh, albeit the noise coming out small and weak. Clearing your throat, after smiling at each of the men that stood behind Hakyeon, you proceeded with the entire reason why you had gone up to them in the first place. As you spoke, you cursed yourself for sounded so unsure of yourself. “About Sanghyuk, is something… up with him?”

Behind Hakyeon, the mystery man arched a single -- perfectly trimmed, might you add -- eyebrow. “Up?” he questioned.

Your cheeks burned for but a moment, embarrassment striking you because of your choice of words. “He’s been acting strange lately. Odd,” you elaborated. “His personality has done a 180 and I was wondering if something was going on in his life. You know, should I be concerned?” Your eyes scanned each of their faces as they exchanged glances of droll. Your curiosity piqued. You shifted your weight, leaning on your right leg.

Wonshik was the first to speak up. “Nothing to be concerned about,” he chuckled. “Just Hyuk being Hyuk, is all. He’s probably just showing you his true colours.” Before he could say much else, Hongbin elbowed him gently, shaking his head subtly. The minute exchange between the two was intriguing but your vacillating voice remained swallowed and choked up within your throat. Hongbin, noticing your hesitant expression, smiled warmly.

“He’s right,” he began, brushing off his past action by leaning back against the campus gate, “there really is nothing to worry about. Hyuk, he can seem odd at times-- he’ll act one way for one minute and then the next he acts like a different person.” Hongbin shrugged leisurely. “It depends on who he’s with, really. If he’s acting differently now, he’s probably just warmed up to you.”

You merely nodded, still unbelieving. Their words, they seemed far too scripted, their actions far too stiff to be natural. Perhaps you were just psycho-analyzing things. Maybe, maybe not. Pursing your lips, you offered the four a forced gracious smile. “Thanks for clearing things up,” you lied straight through your teeth. If anything, you were left with more questions than you had come with. The four of them, they weren’t acting as care-free as you’ve seen around campus. Your eyes wandered to the man, the one who stood in the midst of them all. “It was nice meeting you,” you trailed off, unaware of what the man’s name actually was.

“Jaehwan. Nice to meet you too, [Y/N].”

You blinked, almost forgetting that Hakyeon had mentioned your name moments before. With another smile, you spun on your heel and made your way further and further from campus. Your head spun with question upon question. Something was off with Sanghyuk and something else was going on between his friends. That something, whatever it may be, you could tell they wouldn’t tell you. You shook your head, brushing forelocks of hair out of your face. The action was seemingly useless as the wind that flew by you, caressing you gently with its cold hands, blew them back to their original position. Letting out a sigh, you continued to walk unbothered.

That night, as you lay in bed clad in your pyjamas, you stared up at your crisp white ceiling. It was peculiar, just how much you’ve thought about Sanghyuk in the past week. The last time you had thought about the male so vehemently was all those years back, in high school. As the thought wandered into your already jumbled mind, you shot up in bed, the sudden movement making the rusted bolts of your bed frame creak against the metal bars.

No, no, no, you repeated silently, your eyes widening as the thought processed. You smacked your cheeks lightly with stiff fingers, screwing your eyes shut. Your entire body was still, aside from your quivering hands. You refused to acknowledge the possibility, shaking your head from side to side as you leant over. Your breath hitched, tears springing to your eyes as memories of high school came flooding back. Memories of Sanghyuk glancing over at you, eyes shrouded with disfavour, memories of his lips curling as he sneered at you, his usual teasings and mocking names spouting from his mouth like a volcano spouts plumes of ash and lava.

No.

Hours would pass as you stayed in the same, dreadful position. The hands on the clock would move slowly, a loud ticking noise accompanying its every movement, blaring in your ears. Time seemed endless that night, the darkness of the room imprisoning you within its tight grasp, trapping you to the bed to drown in your thoughts. That night, sleep did not come easy.

No, not at all.

A few hours later, there was a knock at your door. You called for whomever stood behind it with a soft voice, your eyes still trained on the foot of your bed. You watched as your mother stepped into your room tentatively, as if she were walking on eggshells. As she sat on the edge of your bed, a sad look on her face, you slowly began to come back to the real world, your trance broken.

Her lips moved, sound came from her throat. You almost couldn’t hear her over the deafening clock. It seemed louder in that moment than it ever had before. Your body froze as she leaned over, whispering apology and apology into your blanket covered hands. Your mind barely processed her words, but it wasn’t long before they were echoing loudly, louder than your clock. It seemed as though the two simple words were etched onto the inside of your eyelids.

It made sense, although you wished it hadn’t. You wished that she was just pulling a joke on you, as she did from time to time. You wished upon every star you saw for the next while. At least, now you knew why she was always counting her change late at night, when she thought you were in bed, sound asleep.

Days, weeks even, had passed since that fateful night. In that time period, you were slowly accepting what had hit you so abruptly. A small smile played your lips like a violin, graceful yet attention-grabbing. Your peers must’ve noticed your chipper mood as you walked into the classroom, smiling down at your shoes. You ignored them and their whispers. You didn’t have a care for what they had to say. For once, you thought, for once maybe I can be free and just enjoy myself. Even if it’s just for a little while.

As you walked up the steps to your seat, you met eyes with Sanghyuk. He smiled at your for but a second before averting his eyes to the paper in front of him. Beside him, Hongbin whispered something inaudible to your ears. Whatever he had uttered made Sanghyuk react quite visibly, for he shot up and practically tackled Hongbin. At least, as much as you can tackle someone in a sitting position.

Staring down at your scuffed up sneakers as you reached your seat, your once small smile had bloomed into a big grin, a small and quiet, yet genuine, laugh escaping your lips. Unbeknownst to you, Chaerin caught the almost mute noise. Her mouth bowed into a frown, her eyes moving from your pleased form to Sanghyuk’s. She shone almost visibly, her light dull and sorrowful. Her heart ached as she watched Sanghyuk laugh along to one of Hongbin’s jokes.

Sanghyuk, he made her happy just by being, well, Sanghyuk. The mere presence of the male was enough to bring a smile to her face and enough to get her heart racing. Her eyes trailed up the stairs to you, you who had begun to take your supplies out. It wasn’t fair. She had loved Sanghyuk since her high school days. She saw him differently from how others saw him. Her friends saw him as a bully, but she saw him as the sun in human form. Sure, he could be a bit mean and rough on the edges, but in the end-- wasn’t everyone like that? She always felt that way. In her eyes, it was so unfair, the way you managed to capture Sanghyuk’s attention within a few weeks when she couldn’t even do so in a few years.

Chaerin twisted in her seat, staring down at her neatly written notes with an expression that drooped with melancholy. She could vividly remember how she had met Sanghyuk, despite it having happened many years prior. It was as if it only happened yesterday. She could still remember the way he shined, despite being absolutely drenched in rain.

Chaerin sat in a dark alley, her head dropped to her knees as sobs wracked her body almost violently. She could barely feel the harsh rain pelting her bare skin, her ruffled uniform getting soaked with cold water. The rain dripped down the sides of her face and over the bump of her nose, easily concealing her tears. Her right leg shook, the rain merciless against the scrape on her knee. No amount of physical pain would amount to the hurt that had just been afflicted to her.

What had she done to deserve this? She couldn’t come up with a liable answer, each one sounding more and more preposterous.

Just moments before, she had caught her friends sneaking into their homeroom, deviously typing away at the teacher’s desktop. “What are you doing?” she had asked in a slow manner, her movements stilled upon opening the door to the classroom. Her friends froze for only a moment, the three exchanging nervous glances. Furrowing her brows, Chaerin moved across the room to look over her friend’s shoulder. Before either of the three could hide the screen, Chaerin had already seen what they were looking at. “Those are exam answers,” Chaerin stated in disbelief. What they had been doing was obvious, even to the most oblivious of folk. The entire school was to hold final exams in a mere day’s time. “You’re going to cheat?”

The first friend, almost the leader of the group, scoffed. “What does it look like, Rin?” she, Hyesun, retorted. “Are you going to help us or what? You’d be a lifesaver if you could keep watch.”

Chaerin felt disgusted. “Help you? This could get you expelled, Hyesun.” She looked over at the other two, Eunhae and Minseo, with raised brows. “You’re really going along with this?”

Eunhae rolled her eyes. “Come on, Chaerin. Don’t be such a downer, it’s just a little cheating. We can’t get expelled if we don’t get caught.” Beside her, Minseo nodded in agreement. Chaerin merely stared at them with an ajar mouth. Disbelief filled her entire being, her heart racing. She could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat as she glanced between the three girls.

With the shake of her head, Chaerin slowly backed up before retreating out of the room. Upon leaving the class, she surveyed the corridor for any signs of a teacher or supervisor. Hyesun must’ve noticed, because she quickly stomped over to Chaerin, turning her around with a violent tug on her shoulder. Ignoring Chaerin’s gasp of pain, Hyesun shoved Chaerin against the nearest wall. “Don’t you dare, Chaerin,” she spat, pointing a finger in Chaerin’s face. “I know what you’re trying to do. Don’t be such a bitch.”

Chaerin tried to move away, only for Hyesun to shove her again. This time, Chaerin’s legs gave out, causing her to come tumbling to the tiled flooring. She winced as her knee rubbed against the surface, pain throbbing from the area. She looked down and saw small drops of blood already emerging from the surface wound. Glancing up at the three whom she thought she could call sisters, Chaerin blinked away tears. Eunhae and Minseo avoided eye contact, their eyes glueing to a spot on the wall.

Hyesun stepped forward, pulling Chaerin up from the collar of her uniform, her rough movements causing the feeble button to come off. An embarrassed burn blazed through Chaerin’s face as she attempted to cover up the slight exposure, but Hyesun’s clenched fists were in the way. “If you tell anyone,” she began threateningly, “you’ll wish you were never born.”

With that, Hyesun let go, practically shoving Chaerin back onto the floor. As they retreated back into the classroom, closing the door behind them, Chaerin lay there, shaking. Her eyes focused on the simple white button that had fallen a mere foot away from her. Hot tears welled up in her eyes before travelling down her cheeks. She got up with a stagger, rushing out of the school. She turned into a narrow alleyway, leaning against the dirty brick wall before collapsing to the ground. Mere seconds later, it began to rain.

After excruciatingly long minutes of painful sobs, Chaerin felt the rain stop. She looked up, glancing at the wall across from her through her wet fringe. It was still pouring, she could hear it. She felt something drape across her shoulders, the warmth of whatever it was greatly contrasting against the frigid cold rain. Only then did she notice the dirty black converses in her peripheral view. Her eyes trailed up from the black shoes to the familiar uniform until they stopped on a new face.

The boy in front of her wore a worried expression. Despite wearing her school’s uniform, she had never seen him before. “Are you okay?” he pondered, his voice quiet yet smooth. Chaerin swallowed thickly, her heart skipping a beat. “What happened?” He began to frown. Without even realizing, Chaerin talked. She talked about everything-- from what had just occurred to her overall ‘friendship’ with the three girls.

Chaerin realized something that night. As she talked the male had listened. He never interrupted, he didn’t look bored. She hadn’t felt so cared about in a long time. He made her heart race and she didn’t even know his name.

The next day, when she returned to class late with a shameful look and a ruined uniform, she noticed the absence of the three girls. Odd-- despite being as troublesome as they were, they weren’t the type to skip. At that moment, she made eye contact with a familiar face. The same one who had comforted her without even uttering a single word.

That day, she learned his name. And on that day, she found someone who made her elated.

“Im Chaerin.”

Chaerin’s head snapped up, the sudden, booming voice breaking out of her reverie with a jump. She met the eyes of her displeased professor, her cheeks burning with mortification. Her eyes instinctively glanced over in Sanghyuk’s direction. He was looking over, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Her eyes snapped back to Mr Yoon’s when he tapped the surface of her wooden desk. “Since you seem to be paying so much attention, why don’t you tell the entire class what an epigraph is.” The smile on his face seemed to mock her entirely.

Chaerin gulped, her mind racing. She could vaguely remember learning about epigraphs in her ninth year, but the definition was just barely out of her grasp, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. She sputtered an almost incoherent response, one that made most of her peers look down at their notes in mocking amusement. Her hands shook underneath the table, nervousness covering her like a blanket would on a cold wintry day.

“A phrase,” a small voice began. Chaerin looked over her shoulder, her frown deepening when she met eyes with you. “A phrase or quotation that’s found in the beginning of a piece in which the reader is shown words from a different author for either comparison or to generate a specific context.” Anger bubbled just underneath the surface. Your carefree expression made Chaerin see red.

Chaerin glanced over at Sanghyuk again and her heart dropped. He was smiling.

Mr Yoon looked up at you, a barely noticeable smile crossing his lips. “Good. Someone was paying attention.” He cleared his throat, making his way back to his desk. “Now, as you know, the semester is coming to an end, and so is your post-secondary life.” A small bout of cheers erupted from random corners of the room. “Just a reminder that your projects are expected to be handed into me by tomorrow evening. Any later will be considered a zero.” Leaning against his desk, he continued, “And if you want to graduate, I suggest handing it in.”

The rest of the class went by like a blur for you, your mind reeling. You and Sanghyuk had finished the project the night before, all that was to do is editing. A small frown etched itself onto your features, your eyebrows knitting together. You looked down a few rows, at Sanghyuk. You wondered what would happen as the days passed. Despite starting out rough, you and Sanghyuk had grown somewhat close. With the project coming to an end, would your kind-of-friendship grow? Or would Sanghyuk just throw you to the side once the whole thing was over?

You didn’t want to think about it. The inevitable. Instead, you bowed your head and typed down whatever you could hear Mr Yoon babbling about.

That night, Sanghyuk came around to your house. You had waited almost ten minutes for his arrival, staring at an open document as you tapped your foot anxiously. You nearly sprinted to the door when you heard a small rapping against its tough surface. When you did, your breath caught in your throat, as it did every other time you caught sight of Sanghyuk.

You almost hated yourself for falling into the pit that is Sanghyuk, but it wasn’t like you could help it. After all, you had tried so hard to stop yourself once you realized you were slowly falling for him again. Those tries, in the end, were futile. “Hey,” you greeted in a casual manner, opening the door wider so he could enter. Sanghyuk nodded with a smile, entering your home graciously. You waited as he slipped off his shoes before walking up with him to your room. You heard your mom greet Sanghyuk from the living room, to which he replied back politely.

Once you were sat in your room, Sanghyuk began to read your novella out loud, a process the two of you had agreed to go through to edit. Every now and then, you’d pipe in and correct something that sounded erroneous aloud. It took an astonishing two hours to completely go over and edit everything, format and all. By the time Sanghyuk reached the final paragraph, you noticed his voice slowed.

“‘He stared out the window, a heartbroken smile plastered on his face. It was as if his mouth had been stitched into a false smile, permanently stuck in that position no matter his emotion. He watched, his heart wrenching, as the one person he saw as his sun, the one who held his hand as he walked the gravelly path of life, the one who he grew to love, walked away. His light dimmed, encasing him in total darkness once again.’” Your hands stilled over your keyboard, your eyebrows knitting together. Worry was apparent in your features as you looked over to Sanghyuk.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, concerned. “You sound gloomy.” Sanghyuk glanced over at you before looking down at his hands nervously. Something within you stirred when he finally looked you in the eye. You felt flustered beyond belief with the way he was looking at you as if you were the most breathtaking person to walk the earth. And, to him, you truly were. “Hyuk?” You flushed at the nickname, despite it being one he used quite often. A few days prior, he had requested you call him that, rather than Sanghyuk. ‘Sanghyuk makes you sound distant with me.’ he had said.

Without warning, he began to lean in closer. Your heart began to race. Suddenly, everything was dull, blurry. Everything but Sanghyuk. He appeared in your vision perfectly clear despite the way your head swirled. You felt your hands getting warmer and warmer the closer he got, your throat feeling tight as you swallowed thickly.

“May I?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your cheeks. Your eyelids drooped, almost to the point where they were closed.

“You may.”

In that single moment, time slowed. As Sanghyuk pushed forward, pressing his slightly chapped lips against your own, seconds turned to hours. Your eyes fluttered closed, your cheeks warming with delight as you relished the moment. You inched closer, accepting his hand that moved to take hold of yours. His lips moved slowly, gently against yours as his other hand brought you closer to him by the small of your back. The kiss, though short-lived, had you panting once he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours.

Once you caught your breath, you willed yourself to look him in the eyes. Seeing his dark brown irises up close made you feel incredibly nervous. The moment, to you, seemed far too surreal, as if it were something your mind had conjured up to mess with you. However, the feeling of his slow breathing against your skin, the warmth of his hand, and the tingling feeling his touch left behind-- they all confirmed it.

You, [Y/F/N], had just kissed Han Sanghyuk.

It was something you would’ve dreamt about long ago, and the fact that your thoughts had become reality sent you in a spiral of emotion. You were pretty sure he could hear your heart racing, judging by just how loudly it echoed in your ears.

Sanghyuk let out a breathy chuckle, squeezing your hand gently. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted timidly, something seemingly out of character for him. “[Y/N], I--”

And just like that, the tranquil moment was ruined by the ringing of his phone. You jumped apart, your eyes immediately searching for the source of the noise. Sanghyuk scrambled to pull his phone out from his pocket. When he did, his expression dropped. He looked over at you nervously. “Family dinner,” he explained after he hung up. “My parents want to meet me and talk about school.”

You nodded, feeling somewhat sad. Suddenly, your mother’s words came back to you, the very words she had told you that night. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him so badly, but the words wouldn’t form themselves. It was as if there was an anchor attached to your tongue, an anchor that didn’t allow you to speak the words you wanted to verbalize.

“Okay.”

You watched as he slipped his shoes on and you watched as he slipped out your door. He sent one last glance over his shoulder, looking at you as if he wanted you to say something as if he wanted you to tell him to stay. You kept your lips glued shut, a harsh feeling erupting deep within you. As he drove away, you looked down.

Though you didn’t know just yet, that had been your last chance to tell Sanghyuk the truth.

The next day, Sanghyuk wasn’t in class. “Congratulations,” Mr Yoon had said upon your entrance. “You and Sanghyuk got the highest grade in the class for the project. You should be proud of yourself.” You stared at his empty spot all throughout the class, tuning out the words and utterings of your professor and peers alike. You felt dreadful, your eyes trailing to the clock on the wall.

1:27.

You only had four and a half hours left to tell him. If you didn’t, you just knew that you would regret it so, so much.

You glanced down at your phone. He still hadn’t replied to the messages you left him. You wondered if he was purposefully ignoring you or if he had another legitimate reason. Either way, your heart broke off into more and more pieces with each passing minute.

Barely hearing Mr Yoon dismissing the class, you followed the hoard of students that made their way out the doors. Before you reached the exit, you heard Mr Yoon mention Sanghyuk. You moved out of the way of exiting students, glancing over the Mr Yoon.

You noticed Chaerin standing in front of him, smiling falsely. You could barely hear what they were saying, and you tensed as Chaerin said her goodbyes and made her way toward you. She had a manila folder in her hands, and you could just barely see Sanghyuk’s name written on it. “What’s that?” you asked slowly. Chaerin’s neutral expression turned distasteful the moment you opened your mouth, but it wasn’t long before she put on a smile, one just as fake as the one she had shown Mr Yoon.

“Mr Yoon wants me to deliver some paperwork to Hyukkie,” you nearly winced at the nickname, “so I’ll be heading over there now.” She sidestepped around you, “If you don’t mind, which I’m sure you won’t, I’ll be on my way--”

“Wait!”

She stopped in her tracks, holding in a groan as she looked over at you over her shoulder. “Could you,” you paused, furrowing your brows together as you struggled to piece together a coherent sentence. “Could you tell him to meet me at the VIXX Café at four? It’d be much appreciated.”

You bit your lip nervously as you awaited a response. Finally, Chaerin sighed, obviously annoyed with your presence. “Alright,” she agreed quietly, “I’ll tell him. I’ll be leaving now, for real.” She didn’t spare you another glance before turning on her heel and disappearing within the crowd of students speed walking to their respective destinations.

And now, all there was to do is wait.

Four o’clock came along much faster than you had anticipated. You sprinted to the café, shielding yourself from the light rain as you moved. Once you arrived, you frowned. The café was closed. You cursed yourself for not educating yourself on the quaint café’s schedule and sighed. You leant against the building’s front window, pushing yourself against the cold-to-the-touch surface in hopes of evading raindrops. Your attempts were futile, as in seconds you were soaked. Your heart was racing as you stared down at your luggage.

You pulled on your sleeve, glancing down at your watch. 4:13. He’s just running late, you told yourself. In this weather, I wouldn’t be surprised.

You heaved a sigh, looking around for a few seconds in hopes of even getting a glimpse of him. Seconds turned to minutes, and soon the sky was darkening with gray clouds as the rain became harsher and harsher. Shivering, you took one more look at your watch. 4:54. You felt yourself crying, hot tears burning your eyes. Though you were positive no one would be able to tell from the rain. Your hands fumbled around before they landed on the handle of your suitcase. It was just as drenched as you were and you were almost positive your belongings within would also be damp by the time five o’clock rolled around.

You covered your mouth. He wasn’t going to come. You weren’t stupid enough to not figure that out. You swore, biting harshly into the wet fabric of your jacket. You accidentally bit into the fragile skin of your forefinger, but you didn’t care. Your heart ached, and it ached far worse than any flesh wound could.

You slowly crossed the street, your steps slow and heavy. Your face was most definitely red and puffy, but you could easily pass it off as a small side-effect of being in the rain for too long. As you sat down on the wet bus bench, the barred cover that loomed above you not really acting as a cover at all, large raindrops easily falling through the wide gaps in between each white, metal bar.

You looked up, your eyes wide at who you saw standing there, across the street. Before you could do anything, a bus blocked your view. You felt another tear cascade down the side of your face, it’s searing heat contrasting against the cold of the rain.

Sanghyuk looked at himself in the mirror, judging each part of his appearance. Looking out the window, he didn’t think it’d matter much anyway. Rain poured down from the sky mercilessly. He glanced over at his kitchen table. Upon it lay his mangled phone, its screen shattered with parts missing. The device would forever be a memory of his father’s sudden fit of rage the night before. He got angry, angry that Sanghyuk was investing so much time in something as, in his words; stupid as creative writing. Shaking his head, Sanghyuk merely heaved a heavy sigh before stepping out of his home, umbrella in hand.

As he walked to the café, his mind filled itself with various questions.

Three hours before, there was a knock at his door. At first, he got ecstatic. Perhaps you were visiting him, worried due to his lack of presence in class. He must’ve looked visibly disappointed when he opened the door because the woman who stood behind it looked slightly hurt for a moment.

“Chaerin?” he had questioned, raising a brow. His eyes went from the small package in her hands to her face. She wore a soft smile, one Sanghyuk thought looked cheesy and forced. “What’re you doing here?”

She held out the loosely bundled together folder. Sanghyuk was slow to take hold of it, but when he did he quickly recognized its contents as the resumés Mr Yoon had helped him out with. “Mr Yoon wanted me to deliver these,” she explained in a soft tone.

Sanghyuk barely muttered thanks before moving to close the door. Chaerin was quick to hold a hand out, stopping him from completing the action. “That’s it?” she mumbled, disheartened. “Just a weak little ‘thanks’ and then I get a door shut in my face?”

Sanghyuk blinked, unsure of what the girl wanted. Seeing his confusion, Chaerin was pushed into a spiral of emotion. She felt angry, angry that Sanghyuk didn’t realize just how much she cared for him, and dejected. She saw the disappointment on his face the moment he opened the door. He was expecting someone else.

He was expecting you.

She scoffed, feeling ever so bitter. “[Y/N] told me to tell you,” she began slowly, watching for his reaction. When he obviously lit up as if he were a child on Christmas, Chaerin had to will herself not to cry. He’d never react like that to her. She knew that, and she hated it. Why couldn’t he see her? Why did it have to be you? “They want you to meet them at some café at,” she paused for a moment. “At five o’clock.”

Sanghyuk nodded slowly. It processed in his slightly ill mind that you had meant the VIXX Café. He quickly thanked her again before moving to shut the door.

This time, Chaerin hadn’t stopped him. Once she was faced with the wooden exterior, only to look at her reflection as it looked at her from the clear glass that was placed beautifully within the wood. Only then, did she let herself cry.

Back to the present, Sanghyuk drew nearer and nearer to the café. With each step he took, his heart raced a little faster each time. However, once he reached his destination, the café was dark-- chairs were stacked on top of tables and the large open sign that hung above the door wasn’t blinking fluorescent its usual colours. He felt confused. You were nowhere in sight, and you couldn’t have been within the café.

Over the heavy rain, the loud horn of a bus grabbed his attention. When he glanced over, he thought he was imagining things. He blinked in confusion, quickly stepping closer to the road to get a better look. His eyes, in the end, weren’t deceiving him. You sat on a bench completely soaked to the bone. You were right there, right across the street. His eyes laid upon your blue suitcase, his eyes widening.

The bus pulled in.

In a mere second, you were gone. Gone, travelling on the bus he had no chance of catching up with. As the bus travelled out of his view, a single tear fell from Sanghyuk’s eyes as he let out a pathetic laugh. He looked up at the sky, watching as the rain slowly let up. Rays of sunshine peaked through the still gray clouds, almost mockingly. Dropping the umbrella, Sanghyuk cried out in vexation, in despair.

“I never got to tell you,” he whispered into the deafening silence of the night. And finally he mumbled into the darkening sky, “I love you.”

blip bloop what is angst

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