#luckily from a distance it just looks like freckles but it's like. an insecurity i didn't have before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wintervalewritersecond · 1 year

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witchy woman - rowan laslow

requested: yes! requests: open! hii can u make a rowan x witch fem!reader fic about him feelings inscure being her bf because the reader is a popular girl in nevermore. thanks before head!

A/N: i dont know a lot about witchcraft, so please let me know if i got anything wrong! i love rowan though, so i wanted to write it still :) thank you for requesting and i hope you like it <3

wordcount: 2,905 warnings: incorrect witch information, rowan doesn't go insane, insecure rowan </3, she/her pronouns, mean character, might be ooc, cursewords

When Rowan overhears some conversations and gossip, he gets insecure about your intentions.

You had said goodbye to Rowan, heading into the woods to clear your head and collect some small plants and other greens to use in your spell bottles. Sure, you could have gone to Jericho to try and find what you needed, but finding it in the woods was more fulfilling. You believed that being in the open air not only helps you to find yourself but also the ingredients that you need.

Rowan decided to stay in the Quad, working on some of his homework while waiting for you to return. It is still early, and some classes are still going as small groups of students walk through the Quad, sitting down to enjoy lunch or also do breakfast.

None of them sit with Rowan though.

Rowan has always been the outcast of outcasts. He didn't really excel in anything. Fencing wasn't his strongest suit, and though he did get good grades for other classes, but it wasn't like Bianca at Botany. No one really hung out with them, especially because they think he is going insane.

Word had spread about his mother that attended Nevermore years ago. Telekinesis had driven her insane as she destroyed her own dorm, luckily being stopped before she could do any more damage. But the word had already reached the others.

"Rowan!" You cheer, running up to the table he is sitting at.

He looks up from his laptop, a smile on his face.

You are unlike the others. Though you are extremely popular amongst the students and teachers, you never treated him any differently. Not in a bad way, that is. You had been paired up with him once for a project, and ever since then you never left his side. No matter how many times he insisted that it might have been better for you and your reputation if you just distanced yourself from him.

"You will not believe what I just found," you open your tote bag, pulling out a small fabric package.

In it are different flowers and other herbs, most of them unfamiliar to him. He has seen some of them before, but the names are hard to remember.

Even if he does not understand anything, he is still happy to see what you find. You can talk to him about any kind of spell or potion you made, and he will listen with all his attention. He would drop anything for you, just like you would do for him.

"Now I only need to buy some small bottles, candles, rosemary," you nod. "What are you working on, Rowan?"

"Nothing big," he awkwardly laughs. "Just some homework."

You smile at him, watching him as your head rests on your palms. He is so mesmerizing to you. The way his glasses slide off of his nose, the freckle underneath his eye, his face when he looks focused. You could go on for hours.

"I might join you," you pull the journal out of your bag, "I don't have too much homework left, but I will stay here. We can maybe even get some drinks at the Weathervane afterward?"

The journal is one of your prized possessions. It is filled with spells you have done or want to do, some important ingredients for spell jars, and sigils that have been drawn.

After making homework in the Quad, the two of you decide to just get some dinner before just hanging out in Rowan's dorm. He would often allow you to mix up all sorts of potions or try out new spells as he would watch or read.

Two hours had passed of the two of you just messing around, taking some small breaks in between to drink, eat, or kiss. A knock on the door before Xavier comes into the room, dressed in his workout clothing.

"Hey Rowan, hey Y/N."

You greet him back before closing your journal, placing everything in your bag before standing up.

"Hey, Xavier," you smile as you turn to Rowan. "I will see you tomorrow?"

Rowan nods with a big smile on his head, pushing his glasses back on his nose. You look at him for a second before taking hold of his cheek, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Good night, Rowan."

"Good night, my love."

Rowan is so head over heels for you. Even if you have been dating for close to a year, he often still can't believe that you are his girlfriend. He tends to get a little bit insecure, especially during the beginning of your relationship. He would think that you weren't serious when you said you liked him, or when you thought he was attractive. He had been told otherwise his entire life.

You were sitting next to him in class, your left hand on the table as Rowan scribbled some random shapes on it. He would often feel a bit nervous, and the drawing distracts him. Plus, it gives the two of you a reason to hold hands.

"Oh, Rowan," you suddenly remember. "I have to show a new kid around."

Not that you were looking forward to it too much. Normally, Enid would be the one to introduce everyone, but as she had classes longer than you today, you have been tasked with showing the new Nevermore student around. You were popular among the rest of the students, so Principal Weems found you the obvious choice.

"That's okay," Rowan smiles, still focused on the small scribbles on your hand. "I can wait for you in the Quad when you're done?"

"That would actually be perfect!"

The bell rings, a signal for you to go to the Principals office, and a signal for Rowan that his day has ended. A quick kiss on his cheek and a 'goodbye'.

Classes have ended for him, but that did not mean that he didn't have any plans. He asked Xavier to let him use his bike to go to Jericho so he could pick you up some small gifts. The boy would often buy you small presents; you could say it is his love language.

Though he wouldn't admit it, he keeps a list on his phone with all the things you ever said you liked, wanted, or needed. He would carefully pick some items to buy you, even if you insisted that he didn't need to spend any money on you. But he wanted to.

"Where is the rosemary?" He mumbles, a shopping basket in his hand which is already filled with different items.

Snacks and drinks, but also some objects that he has seen you use for spell jars. Cinnamon, matches, bay leaves, and a bouquet of roses. A smile is on his face just thinking about giving you everything.

Finally, the rosemary has been located. After paying for everything at the register, he puts it in his backpack before leaving for Uriah's Heap. It was the only place in Jericho that sold... strange items. He only needed some incense and thin candles, but it was the perfect place for it.

Once back at Nevermore, he packaged each and every little thing, making sure to put a little note in it as well. He always felt too nervous or scared to say things out loud, and a note was a perfect way for him to express how he was feeling. You never blamed him for it though, you love him exactly for how he is. He is deeply grateful for it; you have never pushed him out of his comfort zone, and instead helped guide him to what he wanted himself.

"And this is the Quad!" You smile.

"Wow," George laughs. "And everyone is some type of outcast?"

You nod, leading him around the Quad to walk past the different tables.

"There's werewolves, vampires, sirens," you count on your fingers. "We also have gorgons, faceless people, telekinesis, visions, spells. You name it, and Nevermore probably has it!"

The tall boy nods, leaning against one of the pillars as he looks down at you with a smile.

"And you?"

"Oh," you didn't expect him to ask that. "I do witchcraft. Spells, crystals, candles. All that stuff."

George hums, it's different than his power. He doesn't fully control it just yet, but from what he knows, he can control water. He had told you at the beginning of the tour, but never thought to ask you about what you did.

"Does everyone usually stay grouped together? Based on skills, I mean."

"Sometimes," you admit. "Bianca Barcley is one of the most popular girls. She is a Siren and most of her friends are as well. A few exceptions, including me and Yoko. Mostly, people stick together. There are some smaller groups with different powers, but it's not like the Normie schools. No nerds versus popular people."

He lets out a laugh.

"Good to know. I was actually popular at my old school," he grins. "Where do you fall? Popular, or not so much?"

He surely knows how to ask awkward questions.

"At Normie school? Not that much. But here it's a bit more to the popular side, I guess," you shrug. "I just try to get along with everyone. That's it."

George pushes himself off of the pillar, looking around the Quad again. Something about him feels off. It almost seems like he is looking around for prey. Someone to pick on.

"So, a popular girl then?"

Then, his eyes fall on one person in particular.

"I thought you said there were no nerds here at Nevermore," he snickers, sneakily pointing to something across of the Quad.

You frown, looking at where he was pointing. Through one of the gates walks Rowan, a goofy yet nervous smile on his face as he holds a small basket in his hands.

"Who layers a checkered button-up underneath a zip-up hoodie?"

If looks could kill, then George would have now been dead and buried. He should really watch what he is saying.

"And the glasses- He knows contacts exist, right?"

Rowan gets closer and closer, slowly picking up more from the one-sided conversation.

"George-"

"I know you are more of a popular kid here, but I didn't think Nevermore would stoop this low. I have seen the website, and I thought they only let special people in."

"George, I swear-"

Your tone gets a bit more aggressive every time you have to say his name. Rowan thickly swallows, looking from you to the taller guy. George, as you called him, might be right.

"I don't think studying for eight hours a day is a superpower. Makes you more of a freak-"

"Stop it, George. I'm serious."

Rowan is standing too close to you already, if he turned around now, it would only make him seem weirder. He taps your shoulder softly as your murderous gaze changes into a soft, loving one when you see him up close.

"Rowan!"

With an awkward smile he holds out the package to you, his hands shaking as he tries to avoid George's gaze.

"I uh- Is this a bad time? I have something-"

George suddenly stands behind you, hovering over you as he looks at Rowan, a smirk on his face. He is only a few centimeters taller than him, yet Rowan feels intimidated. It's not like he talked shit about the poor guy earlier.

"I don't think you should talk to her, man," he raises an eyebrow. "You don't seem like the type for a popular girl-"

Your face morphs back into a hateful one as you aggressively throw your elbow back into George's chest. He stumbles back, clutching his chest as he looks up at you with a shocked look on his face.

"What the fuck?!"

You grab his collar, pulling him down to you as you glare at him, your eyes almost on fire. The tables close to you look at you in shock. They have never seen you this aggressive.

"You better watch out," you grit your teeth. "Say one more word about Rowan, and I will make sure you leave here with more broken bones and curses than you can count."

The second you let go of his shirt, he stumbles to the ground. You turn back to Rowan, who is staring at the ground, now shaking more than before.

"Hey, are you okay?" you whisper, stepping closer to him before placing your hands on his upper arms. "Rowan, come on. Let's go."

The two of you walk away to your dorm, leaving behind a confused George and a surprised Quad. Xavier lets out a laugh as he walks past the guy on the floor.

"That was a bad move, man."

"I will make sure he has a horrible time at Nevermore," you groan, rummaging through your drawers to find ingredients for a new spell jar. "I am serious, Rowan, if he says one more word about you I will actually kill him."

You turn around to face your boyfriend, but he hasn't moved an inch. He still sits on the edge of your bed, staring at his hands as the small package is placed next to him. Your shoulders slump as you immediately place everything you were holding onto your desk, sitting down next to Rowan.

It is silent for a second before the boy finally speaks up.

"Do you think he was right?"

You turn your head to face him, your eyebrows creased. His voice was shaking and his eyes are full of tears.

"Maybe he is," Rowan whispers to himself. "I-I... What if I am not really your type? George could be- He is taller and more popular-"

"Hey," you look at him, your heart sinking into your stomach. "Rowan, that is not true at all."

He slowly looks up at you, his lip trembling as he blinks to try to keep the tears at bay. What if George was right?

"You are the most loving, the most caring, the most beautiful, and the most perfect person I have ever met," you smile. "You are the only one that I ever want to spend my life with. I don't want anyone like that asshole."

You press a kiss on his forehead before wiping away some of his stray tears.

"I want a boy with telekinesis who just so happens to look extremely good. Especially with glasses."

A small laugh escapes his lips as he nods.

"Okay," he whispers, nodding before looking at you. "I love you."

You pull him close, pressing a soft kiss on his neck before running your hands up and down his back.

"I love you too, Rowan."

He slowly untangles himself from your grip before placing the small package on your lap. The insecurity had gotten to him, totally forgetting that he was going to give you the gift.

"I uh- I got it for you," he sniffles, though a smile is on his face. "I knew you wouldn't have any time to go to Jericho this week, so..."

Your eyes grow big as you slowly unpack the items.

"What?" You exclaim excitedly, gasping as you look up at your boyfriend. "Rowan, I can't believe this!"

You jump up with the small basket in your hands. Everything you were planning to get, was now in your hands. Small bottles, candles, incense, even roses! You retrieve the small note which sits at the bottom. Rowan would often write you notes or letters, and you kept each and every one of them. Some of them were stuck in your journal, others were placed on the whiteboard in your room, and there were even some you kept in your wallet.

"I have the best boyfriend ever!"

After trying out some new spells, you had finally fallen asleep. The incense had to wait for later; you knew Rowan was quite sensitive to it. You didn't want to risk anything happening to him.

It was time for breakfast, which means that most of the Nevermore students collect in the Quad. A knock on the door catches your attention and as you open it, you are faced with a smiling Rowan. He would pick you up from your dorm so you could get breakfast together in the mornings.

"Good morning," you give him a kiss before fixing his tie.

"Good morning," he replies before taking your hand.

After a long talk yesterday, he finally felt a bit more relieved. You assured him that he had no reason to be insecure, but that you did understand him. You aren't going to laugh at him for being insecure, not at all.

Rowan and you sat down with Xavier and you couldn't help but let out a laugh. Next to the fountain sat George, all on his own.

"So much for being a popular kid, huh," you giggle as Rowan looks over.

"Watch this," he whispers back, quickly moving his hand.

The movement makes George fly off of the bench and into the water. Your hand flies to your mouth as you try to hide your laughing, letting your head fall onto Rowan's shoulder, hearing George scream in the background.

And though Rowan does sometimes feel insecure, he does have something he can hold onto. Your hands, your words, your reassurance. You are his as he is yours. Besides, if anyone else ever talked bad about him, you were quick to react. Be it by a spell, or by your fist.

#rowan laslow #rowan laslow x reader #rowan laslow imagine #rowan laslow oneshot #wednesday imagine #wednesday oneshot

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the-world-of-naiyara · 4 years

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I told you I would bombard you once you accept requests ^^. Could you please write how a long distance relationship looks like with Al :)

Ok, so...

Your request inspired me and I got a little carried away. I really hope you like it.

My fics won’t always be this long.

Smile.

Scholar smiled.

A couple of days ago, she had read an article that said that forcing oneself to smile forced the brain to release the hormones responsible for happiness.

She didn’t feel anything. Definitely not happiness.

She waited.

But the icon didn’t change color. It remained as grey as indifference.

Alistair was usually punctual, yet he was 30 minutes late and counting. He hadn’t even answered Scholar’s messages.

And he’d cancelled their last two Facetimes.

Scholar tried, as she had for the past three weeks now to ignore the voice in her head.

She’d been quite successful at it too, using the Tadashi approved technique of burying herself under mountains of works.

At times, the voice was louder, though and it was always accompanied by Alistair’s face. Like nauseas, coming randomly, waves of tears threatened to push through. Luckily, she was always able to swallow them back down.

She had grown use to the regular heartbeat rush. It was like her heart was watching a horror movie filled with jumps cares.

The monster in her movie was him.

But Alistair wasn’t a monster. And that was the whole problem. He was like Edward Scissorhands, a genuinely kind person who was hurting her by mistake.

Scholar smiled again. A little more this time.

She waited with her Cheshire-cat-grinn but nothing was released. On the contrary, her throat tightened. As did her jaw as she tried to stop it from trembling.

That happened every time she thought of him, now. Even though, this time was different.

All week she’d been able to calm herself by thinking about today. He had sworn he wouldn’t cancel like the last times and she’d believed him. Of course, the feeling that something was going on hadn’t vanished, but she had told herself that today, they would Facetime and all her fears would be put to rest.

Today, as time went by, her shield of reassurance was weakening, and the mob of tears was getting stronger, beating at the doors of her eyes, like savages.

Scholar took a deep breath.

“Stop being so insecure! Al loves you. He’s probably just really busy with his training and stuff. He loves you.” She repeated the last sentence mentally, but the mantra was pathetic.

The college book near the computer was teasing her. Laughing at the idiot who had decided not to take the sabbatical to follow her boyfriend to China, where he was practicing martial art and preparing for the up coming Olympics in a year. She grasped it and threw it against a wall.

Now, she was stuck in front of a stupid computer. Tied up by a sadistically love that forced her to watch as that light remained grey and still. Perfect representation of the death of her relationship.

If only she’d gone with him! Alistair trained about six hours a day. He didn’t have time to think about her. If Scholar had at least been with him, they would have lived together, ate breakfast together and slept in the same bed. He couldn’t have forgotten her. Now, he had been gone for three months and was already ghosting her.

He was a monster! What kind of good man ghosted their girlfriend?

“I hate him.” She cried without even realizing the wall were down and the mod of tears had invaded her.

She wished it were true. As of this moment, she wanted to hate him more than she wanted anything else. But her cruel brain, mocking her pain, kept shoving mental pictures of Alistair’s angelic smile in her mind’s eyes. Screening all the time Scholar had spent with him back when they were together in Arlington. Their first kiss in the gym, Alistair, sweaty and gross and perfect. The first time he took her home with him, in Texas. The first time he told her he loved her and how his freckled faces was washed out in red as he did.

She looked at her immobile, colorless screen and felt an urge of anger at the Facetime app. She wanted to grab the computer and throw it against a wall. Or close it and forget about it.

But she couldn’t. Paralyzed by the infinitesimal possibility that he might still connect himself. Forty minutes had passed, and she just stayed there. Torn between the hatred of her own love and the love she felt for him.

When the app started ringing, Scholar shrieked.

The angelic face was calling her. Her insides were a twisted Slinky toy and her throat was closed for business. Her arms felt like the time she’d trained with Alistair. She could barely lift them. It took her so long to pick up that the call stopped.

Missed called

The red letter made the throat tightening worse. It was painful. The way it would be had her neck been in a vice grip.

She would have to wait until tomorrow to know of the future of her relationship.

But the app started ringing before she could react. A small wave of relief, the sting of hope and she managed to pick up, trembling.

“Babe? Thank God, I thought I’d missed you! I’m so sorry, I…” Alistair’s voice trailed off. Had Scholar been crying? Now, it was his turn to feel his heartbeat increase and it was beating faster than after any of the crazy cardio session he’d been doing here.

“Babe? Babe, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me!” Seeing his girlfriend crying and being so Goddamn far away was torture. He should have been there, holding her tight, reassuring her! Alistair grabbed the screen without thinking. “Baby please. Talk to me.”

It never even crossed his mind that Scholar could think he didn’t love her anymore and wanted to break up. When she was finally capable of voicing it, it was like falling face first on the asphalt.

Had it not been for the tears and the red, puffy eyes, he would have thought Scholar was kidding. “How? How on earth could you think that?” He said softly. “God, I… I’m crazy about you, Scholar… I’m so sorry!”

Alistair wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to punch himself. His hand stiffened on the computer.

“I was stuck in traffic forever. There was an accident on the road and my phone died right when I was answering your text.”

“You’ve been cancelling all our Facetimes!” Scholar scolded him, sniffing hard.

“It’s because I wanted to surprise you! My trainer here said that with my level, if I worked even harder every day, I could probably finish the training in six months instead of nine. I wanted to come home to you faster.”

Scholar felt all her pain, anger and despair being flushed away. She breathed out.

Alistair grabbed the other side of the screen now and got a little closer.

“Scholar, I love you more than anything. You should know that by now. If you think a couple thousand miles are enough to make me forget you, then think again. I’m coming home and I’m coming home soon. Just three more months and we’ll be together.”

Scholar smiled. This time, it was genuine. This time, she felt the happiness.

#sweet Elite #Sweetelite #Sweet elite Alistair #se alistair #Sweet Elite fanfic #SE fic #Sweet elite scholar #otome #otome game #dating sim #Dating game #Love #teenlove #long distance relationship #fanfic #fanfiction #sweet elite fanfiction #request

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bluehhj · 5 years

Text

listen to me — chapter 38

LISTEN TO ME — 0038

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.7K

Jinah felt as if she were walking beside a heavy storm cloud that would start shooting lightning everywhere at any moment. It was a surprise to see that Jade was willing — as far as possible — to go to class that Monday, given that she could barely sleep the night before and everything around her made her want to cry repeatedly, but, Jinah was starting to believe the idea had not been so good. Perhaps it would have been better if the american had stayed at home, the motives were explicit on her face.

— "Jade" — after looking at her out of the corner of her eye more than four times and holding on to herself not to keep a safe distance, Jinah finally spoke, using as much caution as she could muster. — "Is everything alright?"

Obviously it was not all right, but Choi never thought that crossing the campus next to one of her best friends would become so tense. Jade was no longer crying, though the makeup covering her face — including all the freckles, which, unfortunately, she made a point of hiding — made it clear that her intention was to hide her dark circles and her haggard expression. Her jaw was clenched, and Jinah, in all the years she had known Kang, could tell with conviction that she had never seen her carry such a sharp look. Truth be told, Jieun looked ready to do a massacre. It was a little scary.

Jinah had her question completely ignored. The same had happened to Chan, a little while earlier, still in the kitchen of their shared apartment. With Felix too, when they met at the college entrance and he came to know how she was doing. All of this generated some pressure, as if she were a time bomb. It got worse as Jade walked straight past her office building and headed toward the life sciences building.

— "Where are you going?" — asked Jinah, again in vain. She would have an appraisal exercise in seven minutes, but she felt that, if she let the american do what she was going to do on her own, it would definitely go wrong. — "At least wait for me!"

Jade entered the corridors like a hurricane. Little did she know which way she was going, her eyes just darting over the little plates above the doors, and when she finally read 'Biomedicine — Ninth Period', she didn't think twice before entering the room. Luckily, there weren't many people waiting for the professor yet, but the one she wanted to find was standing right in front of her. Kang left no warning before gathering all the strength she had in her body, clenching her fist and punching Josh's face, who fell to the ground with shock.

— "Jade!" — scolded Jinah, pulling her friend by the arm. — "It could cause you to be expelled from college, you idiot!"

— "I warned you that you weren't supposed to come into my life with Changbin, didn't I?" — Jieun practically spat in Josh's face. A trickle of blood ran down the boy's nose, who couldn't take his eyes off of the floor. — "I thought I could trust you!"

— "Calm down" — Hyunjin got up from his desk and joined Jinah in trying to continue the mission of controlling the american girl's nerves. — "Jinah's right, this is no time or place to work it out."

— "I could take the case to the dean right now and get you in a lot of trouble," — muttered Josh, blankly, still not looking up or even making to get up.

— "Well, do it!" — answered Jade. — "So I'm free to break the rest of this cynical face of yours!"

The way Josh was acting was totally and completely contradictory. He barely had the courage to look Kang in the eye, such was his shame and regret, yet he still acted like an idiot because it seemed a thousand times easier than stepping on his own pride, apologizing, and accepting that this fight was no longer his, that Changbin had won that time. Josh loved Jade, but Jade loved Changbin. And now she hated Josh. It hurt.

— "You talk like it's just my fault..." — and it really was, but maybe he deserved the punch and a little more. Damn the dean and all the bureaucracy. — "Since you even closed your eyes..."

Like fire finding gasoline, Jade went up on Josh again, needing Jinah and Hyunjin to stop her from reaching Lee. Angry and frustrated, she tired of debating uselessly and shoved her two friends, then left the room with the same speed she had entered. Jinah sighed and exchanged a discouraged look with Hyunjin, who, nonetheless, reached out and helped Josh to his feet, but made no point of saying anything to the latter.

And it was still only Monday.

♡˖°

Minhwan lit another cigarette.

The perfectly glazed car was smelling of smoke, but he didn't give a shit. Standing under the shade of a tree, a few yards from the college's main gates, he had more important things to think and worry about.

The distance he was in did not allow him to see exactly, but, after so many days of doing the same routine, he had become accustomed to the condition of seeing her only from afar. And it was almost unbelievable to think that time could only make Jinah more and more beautiful.

Minhwan felt hate, but also felt love. Sounds crazy, but you can't blame him, after all, that's what he is. A crazy, insane, unbalanced, delirious, wild and every other synonym found in the dictionary. However, like everything else in this life, he had reason to be so, since living on crumbs while spending most of the day following someone from afar as a hallucinated was not a choice any sane person would choose to make.

It used to be like a light at the end of the tunnel. Darkness was everywhere, but there was a speck that he pinned his hopes on and clung tightly when everything else pressed down on him. Minhwan was only sixteen when he met Jinah — his little flame in the middle of a freezing night —, and, from then on, the weight on his shoulders became much more bearable. He hadn't had a chance to find out what many people's hearts had to offer, but, of the few that had ever done him any good in his life, Choi was certainly, the most valuable. There is not always someone who is willing to sew a heart full of cuts.

Minhwan had been raised by his maternal grandmother since his mother died at his father's dirty hands and was sent to prison. He had no siblongs, thank God, so he wouldn’t have to witness another innocent child suffer all that he had suffered as a child. The marks were everywhere, both on his body and his soul. At the time, Minhwan didn't have many friends to talk to, but he was pretty sure the parents of the other street kids didn't do what his did when they were alone at home. And even as an adult, he still couldn't find enough words to describe exactly how he felt, just carried the unwanted whimpers in his nightmares and a screaming horror in his heart. When his grandmother also died, it was as if the old bricks supported by only a crumbling pillar collapsed and threw their heavy debris on his back — the world came to the ground. And then, Jinah appeared.

Minhwan didn't believe there was a more amazing person on Earth. Even with all his faults, Choi had accepted him and made herself available to cure him of all his suffering. Her smiles functioned more like infinite anti-inflammatories that sent the pain far away and spread tranquility through every cell of his body. Minhwan loved her so much he felt his chest sting, and strongly believed she would be by his side forever. But then came insecurity and fear.

After so many early losses, he had taken some trauma from too strong relationships. Jinah had a lot of friends and much more uncomplicated and interesting people to talk to; so, anyone who approached and took one of her kind smiles was already viewed as an opponent by Minhwan. The boy never wanted to lose her, only that possibility made the scars in his heart ache as if they might reopen. And Jinah always knew so much cooler guys! Guys who knew how to be romantics, who were prettier, who had more money, who could offer her so much more than an obsessive love! Although Choi had never cared about these things or disrespected him at some point in their relationship, it was impossible for Minhwan not to let jealousy gradually overwhelm his conscience, causing him to make threats, be aggressive and extremely controlling, act impulsively and hurt one of the only people who really cared about him, all for fear of losing.

But it was no use, because he lost anyway. Now, he couldn't even get close to Jinah thanks to the subpoena he received when Choi informed the police that she was uncomfortable with his presence. Not that he cared about laws or court orders, but, on second thought, it was even better, since Minhwan didn't want to do anything ahead of time and wasn't sure what would be his reaction to being face to face with the boy who lately only knew how to draw passionate glances from his girl.

Han Jisung. Minhwan hated him. He was pretty sure Han didn't deserve all the love Jinah gave him, just as he didn't love Choi enough — in Minhwan’s tormented head, no one would love Jinah more than himself. It was simply unbearable to see them kissing or walking hand in hand on the street, it looked like a misplaced piece in a complicated puzzle. Minhwan wanted Jisung to disappear once and for all... He wanted to disappear too. Or rather, wanted to find peace... But he couldn't do it without Jinah.

Although now she looked genuinely happy, as when Minhwan promised.

Yeah... Maybe Jinah should disappear too.

Everything's gonna be okay.

a/n: things are going downhill lol

I decided to talk a little bit about how Minhwan feels not to be like in those stories that the couple is having a wonderful time and out of nowhere a crazy idiot appears to end it and that's it. I didn't put it in all the words, but I imagine you guys understood that he was abused by his father when he was little and this generates an absurd trauma to any child, especially if not treated with a specialist doctor, so this is one of the reasons why he's kind of crazy like that.

Josh is not just another sucker either, he just has a hard time dealing with his feelings and that makes him stupid most of the time, but I ask you guys to calm down. You guys don't even have to like him yet, I just want to say that, like Chaerin from the beginning of the au, his attitudes don't show everything he really is.

and speaking of Chaerin, let's add Seungmin and say that they are missing in 'Listen To Me', don't you guys think? I at least think that and already advance that the two little angels will soon be between us

can I ask you guys to tell me your expectations? if you guys are liking it or what you expect. I haven't asked this for a long time and I always like to know, so don't be afraid to tell me :)

I'm leaving now, Ily and see you guys in the next chapter <3

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bewitchingallure · 6 years

Text

Father’s Hands

J.M. Clark

Hydrangeas full in bloom, the softest purple invited us to pull up closer in the driveway. So many of them, lightly drooping in bunches, blocked the bottom of the window into the warm sunroom. My eyes traveled from the flowers and up the window only to see hand blown glass spheres of all different sizes and colors hanging from fishing line behind the glass. I wondered how they stayed so still, where Liam and Felicity got them. In that moment, I loved them so much I despised my mother’s decorative taste at home more every time I came here.

I continued to sit shotgun. Father already turned the car off, but I couldn’t go. As excited as I was, the chilled air was drifting away and the stale warm air returned to comfort me. I was stuck in the moment, a little nervous. Then I saw Ellie, Ray Bans pulling her hair back, as she shuffled to the trunk with a cumbersome laundry basket of clothes.

Ellie had always been my best friend. In one aspect we were two of a kind, in the other I looked like the Virgin Mary beside her. Ellie was an only child, I was the middle mostly fallen through the cracks. Her back was always covered in labels, mine in her hand-me-downs. I was her last season shadow but I didn’t mind. She made me feel like I belonged. Ellie showed me the ropes, let me in on a sliver of the childhood I never got. She was my sparkle. What I learned growing up beside her, collecting her left over sparkle, was that no matter how much time we spent together, no matter how much she shared, she was never threatened because she knew she was always going to be better than me. Her charity didn’t threaten anything. Sometimes I wondered though, if we hadn’t been cousins would we be this inseparable? When you’re short on friends though, and don’t know the secret to making more you don’t overthink those things. You just accept them.

She was a stretch of black pavement away, thirty minutes if you’re speeding, but it felt so much further. We had separate lives. Oxford Heights and Guilderland possessed vastly different atmospheres, there was an elitism I only heard about cross-town. Father said we moved out of there when I was young so he didn’t raise brats. Ellie and I briefly recollected our teenage angst every encounter we shared. Other than that we only reminisced on the memories we created, including the week’s worth we were about to remember for the rest of our lives. I had never gone on holiday without my family before. I didn’t have a single ounce of fear, just pure foolish excitement.

“Y’all coming or what? All of my stuff is already packed in the car,” Ellie threw her fists on her hips and waited to see us moving in response.

Her enthusiasm pulled me out of the haze and lit a fire under my ass. I scuttled with arms open wide to all of my possessions, so I could pile them into the Camry trunk. Little did I know, laundry baskets fit better than duffle bags, and I studied that trunk like a game of Tetris. As usual, Father was over thinking, over packing, over analyzing. Hydrogen peroxide, old baseball caps, and fishing line were necessities that we couldn’t leave behind in his mind. I don’t try to understand, but merely nod and smile. He’s Toula’s father from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Broke a leg? Terminally ill? Family drama? Hydrogen peroxide will fix it.

At this point he was over talking to Liam and Felicity. Part of me always knew Father didn’t care for them much, he always thought they let Ellie get away with murder. He backed off for a week because he knew he’d never be able to take me on a vacation like this though. I appreciated it more than I led on.

Ellie and I were already strapped up in the back seat reading our Seventeen magazines. Now, Liam and Felicity were my mother’s cousins so Ellie was really only my second, but we were always excited to go somewhere new, having strangers assume we’re sisters. That’s what I liked about tagging along with them. I was an honorary daughter and sister. Our final goodbyes before our very underestimated trip, Father kissed my forehead through the low peeking window in between us. My hair anticipating blonde sunshine, my skin excited for a sheer layer of freckles, my legs thirsty for a tan - we were ready to go. The engine was running with that air conditioning blowing to the point where its uncomfortable frost clothed our knees alone. Sitting Indian-style I laid a pillow across my lap, half for comfort but mainly due to scarce room anywhere else. Whipping the car out of the driveway into the center of the cul-de-sac, Ellie and I could tell we weren’t the only ones excited to be smothered by the journeys of Delaware. I didn’t think twice about the feverish waves Father gave me through the tinted chamber of the Camry, but in hindsight I wish I could’ve held on to that hand forever.

His hands weren’t soft, but that’s what I loved about them. They were huge, perfect tickling war hands, ideal hair braiding hands. They had nails that grew precisely even, they were dry and dingy and cracked and they always smelled of nicotine. I never imagined them to be desirable hands but in between tears they were the only hands I wanted to hold. I took him for granted, I just didn’t know it yet. Daddy’s girl.

After seven hours, two movies, and countless sing-alongs to the best of The Doors we had finally arrived. Liam and Felicity were the parents every kid wanted: very hip, a little negligent, and a bit stuck in the ‘70s for comic relief. Bethany Beach, Delaware was our haven for the next week. We had nowhere else to go and that was exactly what the four of us wanted.

Settling in was one of my favorite parts. Walking into a gorgeous condo waiting for my touch of character, your shaving cream, brushes and make up bags to line the counter in the bathroom. Ridding the drawers of the old wood stench, like a weathered paperback book, I laid down a bathroom towel from home along the bottom and filled my folded shirts and shorts side by side. Sneakers for tennis and sandals for the beach lined accordingly beside the dresser and window. Now here was the debate - which gets the bed adjacent to the window? Ellie had her own bedroom and a separate playroom at home, so this week I just wanted a bed next to the window. Luckily she was too fatigued to state her case, and it was an easy defeat.

With things set to a tee, we headed off down the stairs and out to venture. It was like one of those villages you put atop your mantle at Christmas. Illuminated at night, the boardwalk was home to hundreds of shuffling feet in and out of restaurants and ice cream shops. Overwhelmed with its beauty, Ellie and I waited for the cameras to stop rolling and reality to set back in. As excited as we were, our bodies spoke louder crying for sleep, but our minds weren’t yet ready, time was flying too fast.

Felicity was always an early bird, said Ellie was wasting the day waking up at such late hours. Eight was her idea of a snooze, and off she was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs holding a beach bag, and chairs while simultaneously struggling to put sunscreen on her back.

“You girls know you can sleep back at home! Lets go before the beach fills up! Ellie, your father has the snacks in his bag.”

“I’m not doing this shit every morning,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes over to me.

I would’ve agreed except I never really found justice in anything Ellie complained about. I shrugged. We were family, but I got the sense I was going to see her only-child flaws rise up this week. Soon enough our long blonde hair with waves to match the water, cotton cover-ups and J. Crew flip flops struggled behind. The Delaware sun shone upon us the entire mile we walked. I looked like a fool, switching my bag from shoulder to shoulder just to evenly strain them both. Shoulders back, leggy and standing tall, Ellie paraded ahead gracefully, as per usual.

We arrived at the private beach the first day, which was underwhelming to our judgmental side. We were satisfied tourists just people watching on the public beach from then on. Ellie and I loved nothing more than to people watch. Maybe we were too critical or too serious. When being politically correct was demanded more often at our heightening ages, it was nice to quietly analyze and giggle at strangers from a distance, to blame it on our naïve youth.

The days started to mesh together. Our mornings spent on bicycles through the villages, peak of the heat spent drinking Diet Coke in reclining sun chairs reading tabloids, nights experimenting with the local fare and live music. I always thought if someone took snap shots of our days they would be Polaroid, sporting a sunny faded tint over them. They were colliding in my mind, which night I had the catch of the day to which morning I ate two oranges at the beach while staring, trying to figure out how that fellow fit in his wet suit. Elastic never ceases to amaze me. Things were beginning to change though. It became apparent that Thursday afternoon that those coy stares weren’t only addictive, they were dangerous.

Allotted enough money for lunch and frozen yogurt, we made the getaway to Five Guys on the boardwalk. Ellie and I had an acquired style that followed us wherever we went. Not because we were flawless, but because we were merely insecure. The thing about thirteen and a half is you cover up all the things you aren’t with material things you wish you were. It was working so-so. We grabbed two chairs at the counter looking out the window, so we could eat and people watch as per usual. Ellie and I ate our junior burgers side by side. That Thursday though was not like that Tuesday or even that Wednesday. They sat there innocently enough, on the bench outside directly across from us, taunting our teenage minds.

They were Ben and Jordan. They had vile intentions masked behind deceptive smiles. Fitting to our youthful immaturity, we scarfed down our meals quickly and while seeming cavalier, we sat on the other side of the bench from them. Obvious enough what we were doing, the boys spoke first.

My eyes were the only things that weren’t paralyzed. They darted over Ben like a pinball machine. He was certainly no chore to look at. He had that shorter sandy blonde hair that styled itself with salt water, and his skin. His skin looked soft and was tan but not tan enough where you questioned his ethnicity. I studied the freckles that sat on his shoulders, the ones his Celtics jersey didn’t hide. I wondered if he played basketball too, maybe he’d get a scholarship for college, maybe he was in college. I took turns looking at him because I didn’t want to stare, stole little glimpses of him, learning the curves of his face with every quick glance. Ben sure made Jordan look like charity. Jordan was a little sweaty, little doughy, and a little too talkative. You’d think he’d shutter looking at Ellie, but clearly his genetic setbacks didn’t stop him from trying to flirt. I felt those hazel eyes sweep over me whenever I was looking down, counting the nails in the boardwalk planks. I’d look up and see him looking at me. Ben looking at me. Ben’s eyes demanded mine back. As much as I loved the idea of him looking at me, wanting my attention, the reality was so much more nerve-wracking.

I let Ellie do the talking. If I spoke, I’d stumble over words like bad hopscotch and we’d never see them again. And when I say I let her do the talking, I mean she’s good with taking initiative. Her words make moves. A real go-getter. When I lump us together, it’s her abundance of confidence that averages out to mine being mediocre. I sat there, peering up occasionally, but mostly staring down picking at the hangnails decorating my nail beds. Inside our small talk we exchanged hometowns, ages, names, and Ellie’s number.

Mistake One.

The four of us went about the condo getting ready for the evening. Ellie’s dad, Liam, made a tradition of burning his dress shirts with an iron, and then his wife would have to salvage it with her secret cornstarch trick. Felicity took forever and a half to get herself ready for anything of importance because she usually meanders around the house with a glass of wine, getting drunk in the process, saying, “it helps me relax!” With Ellie’s wise expertise, I had eyeliner on for the first time. Not having been introduced to contacts, my glasses were the humbling touch to my outfit of jean shorts, a white tank top, and a burgundy cardigan. Father just had to pick out the frames with butterflies with on the arms. Maybe that was his small effort to repel his daughter’s maturity. In the midst of organizing my ensemble I caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye of thumbs - moving quicker than ever. Jerking my head back, I saw Ellie texting Ben.

Yea for sure, we’re free after dinner. You?

Us too, we’ll be around the boardwalk. Meet at the beach by Sal’s shirt shop? 10?

Word. Your cousin coming?

Yea! She’s staying the whole week.

Mistake Two.

The center of the boardwalk was our meeting place. Liam and Felicity split to listen to some local talent. They were the type that considered live music a hobby. It was a stiff departure seeing as they were never physically affectionate to Ellie. More of a verbal “love you” rather than a hug and peck seemed to suffice. They headed west as we headed south down to the shore. My heart raced a little, that anxiousness rising up from my stomach, now sitting with its legs wrapped around my heart. This didn’t quite faze me, as almost everything incited that reaction. I simply thought we were walking along the water, forgetting about her racing thumbs from earlier. The straps of my sandals hooked on my finger we walked side by side down to the beach. The sand was cold but not that cold-it-feels-wet feeling, just cold. Gazing ahead to the barely visible horizon, I was startled to see those familiar smiles appear in front of us.

Wearing the same outfits as before showed that they weren’t trying too hard, but why were they there? Ellie quickly engaged in conversation like old pals, as I stood there puzzled. In another dimension I thought off, and thought, and wondered, and it clicked. It was planned and it wasn’t right.

The Virgin Mary was isolated from the bliss and ignorance.

We sat in a square behind the fences and grass that grew through the sand. Claiming to have taken part in the conversation, I was actually just an onlooker to the game. It was a game of risk. I just pictured us passing around a revolver, and the bullet was waiting for me. Who had done what, when, and how many times? All of the words quickly stirred together and topics changed too quickly for me to figure out the ones prior. How were there seeds and stems in buds if they hadn’t bloomed yet? My neighbor’s dog was named Molson, but I wasn’t aware you could drink him, and apparently I don’t need my softball uniform to get to third base. I couldn’t tell if Ellie was a prime liar or if she had been keeping a few untidy details from me.

Ellie was effortlessly popular, confident, and magnetic – her common knowledge was my astonishing discovery. I latched onto her like it was my saving grace from everything I was. She was less than a year older but worlds ahead. Ellie stood apart from everyone. She was the first to have a real bra, a real manicure, real experience. Boys loved that. We put her on a pedestal and they all climbed up to meet her. She spoke ambiguously enough so other girls could never steal her secrets. She never got lonely at the top. Her words spread like butter. So if she were lying, I’d never know. But she had the prerequisites, she had no reason to lie.

Then they look at me. They ask what I’ve done. I’ve done nothing. I kept my questions to a minimum to avoid the embarrassment. I responded with,

“Not much, woke up early had a parfait for breakfast, went to the beach with Ellie earlier.”

They laughed, and I think the boys had mistaken my sheer inability to adapt or socialize with quick wit, but I felt this pressure shining down on me in the pitch of night. I was embarrassing not myself, but Ellie. This nervousness had initiated that unholy muscle to press against my pea-sized bladder. The gates opened and the horses were off! I had to go like Seabiscuit and there was no stopping me.

Mistake Three.

Quickly hustling back to my designated spot in the sand you could say conversation was already winding to a finish. It was an hour young of midnight which was plenty for the youthful. We walked up back up to the boardwalk together and said our goodbyes. Timid, I simply nodded and smiled. It was a classic, my safety. Parting ways, Ellie and I met Liam and Felicity back at some restaurant down the boardwalk. We were exchanging nights, Ellie was pouring out lies, all believable - but still lies. While she was digging a hole of mistrust, I looked down on my phone.

It was a light that read an unknown number. That unknown number wanted to tell me that I looked so pretty. As flattering as it was, he was still a stranger. I responded.

Mistake Four.

Ya know, there’s just something about you. You’re pure. And your eyes, I love them.

Oh thank you, they’re real.

Thank goodness, fake eyes creep me out. They always look so empty.

The witty banter continued a while longer, and it made me wonder again how old Ben was. I wasn’t about to ask, as if I had a problem with it. Just made me wonder, why me? He must be five years my senior, an illegal difference regardless of chemistry. Pure?

My thumbs racing as fast as Ellie’s earlier that evening, I was blinded by the empty compliments and conniving plans being mapped out. I was never the hero, but always the sidekick. I was never the fries, but always the ketchup. Know what I mean? I had to seize a rare opportunity. Maybe what I reveled in most was making Ellie my ketchup for once. All of the sudden I was the one who was preparing a lie! The Virgin Mary doesn’t lie, but starting with Ben, there were going to be dozens of necessary lies to follow. Words flew from condo to condo, phone to phone, until the early hours of the morning. That led to a break in the cycle.

Friday August 1:

We woke up late. We didn’t ride bicycles. However, we did sit on the beach. The tabloids were in the bags, I had a better story instead. They wanted to meet up that night at the same spot. It was our last full day in Bethany and it was crucial. Our hearts raced with anticipation and wonder and excitement.

We told Ellie’s parents we were going to go to the local movie theatre down the boardwalk, a stretch from Liam and Felicity who were supposed to meet old friends for drinks. I wasn’t sure how they knew people there, apparently they were friends of Felicity’s from college. Odd, but figuring that out wasn’t on my list of priorities at that moment. It was to successfully spew lies out of a thirteen-year-old girl’s mouth. They were successfully spewed lies. Take my word for it.

Two tickets, fifteen dollars, and minutes later, we walked out of the theatre. Had to keep a paper trail in case there were questions later on. We met by the bathrooms, the four of us. Our conversation the night before hadn’t settled the awkward small talk, but only heightened it. We walked down to the beach, walked along the water. Jordan was quite fond of Ellie from the looks of it. Jordan was ketchup. I had Ben chasing after me. I didn’t know that it was a game, a literal chase with a literal prize. A revolver. Looking down listening to Ben talk, I watched my toes sink into the wet sand. I should’ve looked up sooner, but I didn’t. I looked up to see nothing.

Where was Ellie? Where was I?

Neon shirts can’t save you now

The blanket of night wraps around any light

The excitement of the beach, she understands the danger now

With his hand over her mouth, she put up a silent fight

She squirms, he scolds

As she tries to escape, the tighter his hold

The sand’s comfort disappears

Pushing her against it unleashes her fears

Excruciating, one word to describe the pain

Tears pouring so hard she’s about to faint

Dripping down in hope his hand will slip off her mouth

But he persists to invade south

He finished, stood up, told her she was easy

Left there, stripped naked of her dignity

Barely capable of clothing herself

She trembles, she shakes, her body aches

Happiness for the rest of the trip she fakes

Location couldn’t change what happened, and the only thing at home I missed were Father’s hands. Seeing his crooked smile as I pulled up in the driveway widen, I was hesitant to get out of the car, as if he could see the shame splashed across my face. He ran towards me, and those hands picked me up in the air faster than I could say hello. He spun me around, set me down, put my face in his hands and examined me. I could tell he missed me just by the reek of nicotine on his hands - quite the chain smoker when he’s anxious. He said freckles looked perfect on me, and how more grown up I looked after just a week. I just stood there with my face against his warm hands, and let myself cry. I let his palms fill with my wet apologies. My tears were no longer water, but thoughts and regrets. That was my home, the only man I could trust, the only hands that could ever hold me again.

How long does it take to deface someone? Seconds, minutes, hours? Something about being violated takes time away from you. It takes feelings, words, smiles away from you. It smothers you in silence, in shame, in questions you’d never dare try answering. Something about being raped ruins you. Something about logic feels like a mirage, a distant daydream. I still keep that denim skirt in the back of my closet, the one he broke the zipper on in his heat of the moment, the one he just pushed up instead, the one that used to be my favorite. I come across it every time I clean out my closet but never get rid of it. I’m not sure what good it does me, hanging on to my stolen virginity. Maybe that skirt is the only thing I do have control over. Whenever I pick it up, I always make sure to place my thumb over the edge, where that spot of dried blood lay. It looks brown kind of like chocolate now, all these years later, but it feels fresh. I rub my thumb across the stiff blood knowing Father’s hydrogen peroxide would probably get it out. I never get it out.

#short story #me too #times up #writers on tumblr #freelance #short stories

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