#slap some colour on paper
Photo
there was gonna be a third panel to this but i chickened out
so this is all you get
#bowser#bowuigi#luigi#gay#art#slap some colour on paper#artists on tumblr#bowser x luigi#luigi x bowser
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5 Times You Flirted With Wednesday And 1 Time She Flirted Back
Pairings: Wednesday Addams x gn!reader / Enid Sinclair x platonic!reader
Summary: what the title says
Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, y/n being down bad, I got lazy after the second one, also I wrote it when I was half asleep, google translated Spanish (sorry if it’s wrong). lmk if there are any more !!
Word Count: 1.1k
1.
The first time you’d flirted with Wednesday Addams was completely subconsciously, honestly. You walked into your friend’s dorm and froze at the sight of Enid watching with a frown as she took the colour off the window on her side.
“Holy shit.” You mumbled, completely blown away.
Enid turned to you, but you were too enthralled by the mystery in front of you to look away. You tilted your head and admired her jawline and braids. Her fringe were scary, it was so perfect, like she just hopped off the Hairspray set. When she was done, she kicked the translucent vellum paper mindlessly onto Enid’s half. When you looked down, you saw the duct tape line and jumped over to Enid’s side.
“Oh, Dios mío. Cómo puede una persona ser tan perfecta?” You asked aloud and Wednesday turned to you as you blushed.
Her eyebrow was raised slightly as she looked on through her eyelashes. “di algo así otra vez, y perderás la lengua.” Her words were so smooth and calm, you almost forgot that she was threatening you.
You held back a smile at her glare and bounced over to Enid’s bed. The floorboards screeched in pain that went ignored by the people in the room as you sat on the brightly coloured bed. Enid rolled her eyes at the look on your face and sat next to you. She dared you to say what was on your mind.
You shook your head and she nodded, pleased. You began spending more time in Enid’s dorm and less in Yoko’s. And Wednesday was already sick of you by the second week at Nevermore, but you didn’t let that get you down.
2.
The second time you shamelessly flirted with Wednesday was during the Poe Cup. Or after, really. Wednesday had been coerced onto the team by Enid after Bianca poisoned Yoko with Garlic. Your team had won and Wednesday, you, Enid and the fourth person - one of Enid’s other friends - stood on the stairs as Headmistress Weems handed Enid the trophy. The celebration of the Black Cats beating the Sirens (really just anyone beating the sirens for the first time in years) had everyone but Bianca cheering.
Wednesday went back to her dorm and you followed her. When you got there, you leaned on the doorframe. “You should wear the suit more often, Cat-Woman.” You said as Wednesday sat down at her desk.
“Cat-Woman is chaotic good; I’m neutral evil.” Wednesday muttered mindlessly, clicking away on her typewriter.
You shrugged and made your way to her desk. You jumped onto an empty space and began swinging your legs near Wednesday as it took everything within her not to rip you apart. Limb. By. Limb.
You went to pick up a sheet of paper from the desk, but that idea was quickly shot down when Wednesday slapped your hand away. “Touch them again and you’ll lose your hands.”
“Wednesday, all this threatening is making me feel some way.” You shifted on the desk before jumping off and gaining Wednesday attention.
“Where are you going?” She asked.
“My dorm… Unless you want me to stay.” You smirked.
“Don’t flatter yourself, y/n.” Wednesday said emotionlessly, as always. “Enid will want to celebrate with you, so you should probably stay, though.” She then muttered, turning away from you so that you couldn’t see her face.
You shrugged and nodded, walking over to Enid’s bed and just watching Wednesday in a comfortable silence until your friend came.
3.
The next time you were all eating lunch. Wednesday had decided to eat with you for the first time since she’d been at Nevermore. It had only taken her two and a half months. Much to both of your luck, the only free seat by the time she had gotten there was next to you and opposite Enid.
Wednesday didn’t make a sound as she sat down next to you. You opened your mouth, but Wednesday held her hand up, stopped you. “Don’t say a word.”
“Not even if it’s to say how ravishing you look in that jumper?” You asked with a small smirk.
Enid cleared her throat, making you and look away from each other and to the blonde. “What have i told you about flirting with my friends?” Enid scolded you as you dropped your head.
“You told me not to.” You mumbled. “But can you blame me? Look at her.” Wednesday whacked your hand away when you motioned to her.
“Honestly, y/n, go touch some grass.” Yoko called out from the other side of the table, rolling her eyes.
“Te sugiero que cuides tu boca.” Wednesday said.
You smirked. “Eres inexplicablemente caliente cuando estás enojado.”
“Don’t make me regret eating with you.”
4.
The fourth time was also an accident, much like the first time. You were lying on Wednesday’s bed (it was shocking that she hadn’t tried to stab you the moment you crossed over the line, I know), scrolling through your camera roll when a picture you’d taken without her knowledge.
You smiled at it. Nothing could ruin this feeling of serenity. Nothing but Wednesday lying next to you. Actually, no. She didn’t ruin it. She made it better. “You’re so pretty, Wednesday.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them and your cheeks warmed up quickly. “I’m sorry.” You said quickly, looking away from her.
“Thank you.” Wednesday murmured, pushing her back against the bed frame. You widened your eyes. “Don’t make me take it back.”
5.
The last time you’d flirted with Wednesday was after she’d defeated Joseph Crackstone. After being all bloody and bruised, you pushed your way through the crowd to look for her. “Enid, where’s Wednesday?” You asked the blonde hurriedly, eyes darting around.
“y/n? What happened?” Enid asked, looking at you, searching for any extensive wounds.
“Most of it’s Tyler.” You whimpered, hugging yourself.
The chittering of the Outcasts suddenly died down and everyone turned to the gate where Wednesday walked out. You sighed in relief before running towards her. In that moment it was just the two of you. She winced as your body collided with hers in a hug and furrowed eyebrows before pushing you away.
“Fancy seeing you here, gorgeous, huh?” You mumbled.
The one time Wednesday flirted back, you got a mere: “You look good covered in blood.” She had joked. The look on her face was still deadpan as she once-overed your body for any lethal wounds. “Are you okay?” You nodded. Wednesday’s lips quivered as she pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.
You sobbed into her shoulder. The thought of nearly losing her to Tyler still fresh in your mind as your own shoulders shook. Wednesday held you tight. Seeing you wolf out to save her and almost get killed by Tyler was the last thing on her mind. Sure, she couldn’t stand physical contact, but having you in her arms was what she had longed for since she first heard the words you muttered on her second day at Nevermore.
#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams x you#wednesday x you#wednesday netflix#wednesday tim burton#wednesday the series#wednesday tv show#wednesday x reader#wednesday addams#Wednesday#wednesday x y/n#Wednesday Addams x y/n#enid sinclair x reader#Enid sinclair x platonic!reader#wednesday 2022#yokovina#Yoko#yoko tanaka#wednesday characters x reader#wednesday addams angst#wednesday addams fanfic#wednesday addams fluff#wednesday fluff#wednesday fanfic#Wednesday angst#elijah writes
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The Perfect Surprise
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant! Reader
Summary: Wanda and Maria surprises you with a baby shower with Nat having an extra surprise
Translations: Detka (baby),
Warnings: Slight Language Warning, Pregnancy Talk | 0.9K
AC: As always, I have used a random generator to pick the baby’s gender! I hope you enjoy this x
Waking up to the gentle soft hand of your wife rubbing your baby bump was something you quickly grew to love, every morning when Natasha would get back from the gym, she would whisper sweet things to your unborn baby which eventually would wake you. You couldn't help but smile softly as you watched her hand move up and down your stomach with care.
"Good morning darling" Natasha whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek, "Are you ready for today?" she asked. You nodded. Yesterday Maria and Wanda had told you that they planned a baby shower for you and Natasha. "Are you ready for today?" You asked Nat knowing she hated having attention put on her. She chuckled with a nod, "I also have a surprise for you today" she replied.
You tilted your head slightly, "is that so?" You questioned.
Natasha had this planned for a while, but she wasn't sure how to go about delivering the surprise so when Wanda and Maria came to her four days ago and poked her about the baby shower, she decided to give the women the scrap of torn paper the doctor gave her months ago, she never looked at it no matter how much it tempered her.
You didn't want to know the gender of your baby unless Nat wanted too so when she said she wanted to wait, you believed her. Little did you know, she had the doctor write the gender down and she's been carrying it in her purse since. She told Wanda and Maria to get creative as the gender would be a surprise for the both of you.
"What do you have planned?" You questioned when Nat just smirked and placed a kiss on your baby bump. "You'll find out later today" she said softly before pushing herself off the bed and walking into the bathroom.
----
Everybody from the Avengers to your friends and family were gathered outside at the back of the compound looking over the city of New York. Plenty of laughter and chatter filled the air as you took some time to talk to everybody who had come up to you and Natasha, congratulating you both on the next chapter of your lives.
The outdoor entertainment area was decorated with plenty of blues, pinks, yellows, greens and other gender-natural-colored items, a large board was placed near the sweet candy treats for guests to write their guesses down for what you and Nat might call the baby, the length, weight and gender and whoever would get the closest to the correct answer would win a $50 online gift card once the baby was born.
"I sure hope there isn't a knife in that box Yelena" you chucked as you watched Yelena place the gift on the table among the other gifts, "do you think so low of me? To give my niece of nephew a knife to welcome them into this world?" the blonde replied as she came up and gave you a hug.
"It's debatable" you chuckled.
"Don't worry, I made sure it wasn't a real knife" Kate inserted herself, reaching in for a hug and congratulating you. Yelena playfully rolled her eyes before listening to the small talk shared between you, Kate and Natasha.
Wanda came out carrying a rather large cake that caught your eye, watching as she placed it in the center of the table full of finger food. It was rounded, one half blue and the other half pink with a red hourglass symbol in the middle with the words "Super-She or Super-He?" On top.
"Surprise" Natasha whispered as she gently rubbed your baby bump from behind.
"I thought you said you wanted to wait" you turned to her.
"I know but we literally can't set up the nursery without knowing, it's driving you crazy" the redhead admitted. Playfully, you slapped your wife's hand, "I think I've been doing great with all the gender neutral items and colours" you replied but you couldn't deny that you were just as curious and excited to know the gender as much as Nat.
Natasha just shook her head and placed a kiss on your cheek before the two of you continued to talk with guests until Wanda got everybody's attention. "Nat, Y/n, we hope that this next chapter of your lives is everything you expect and more. Not only is your beautiful baby already so loved by the two of you, but they're loved by everybody here today. I'm not going to drag this on because I know you're eager to know little widow's gender but also because Steve is sweating that he's not giving a speech" Wanda said causing everybody to laugh at her fun at Steve who just shook his head.
"Both of you take a knife and cut into a side of the cake each" Wanda added. Excitement made your hands slightly shake as you brought the silver knife to the blue side of the cake, Nat's knife hovering over the pink side.
"Ready?" Nat looked at you with her famous smirk. You nodded, "on 3?" You asked.
"Always"
On 3 you and Nat cut into the cake, slowly Natasha pulled out her slice to relief the cake's red valet color while you slowly pulled out your slice to a blue color. "Congratulations guys!!!" Kate bursts with joy as Natasha pulls you in for a deep kiss, smiling against your lips, "we're having a boy!" You whispered, letting the news sink in. Everybody applauded and congratulated you both with the news.
"You owe me $20" Natasha chuckled, reminding you of the bet the two of you made during your second trimester. You rolled your eyes playfully before kissing her once more, "I love you so much" you whispered. Tears of happiness filling your eyes only for Nat to wipe away, "not near as much as I love you detka" she whispered in reply.
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Part of why I'm so passionate about the concept that anyone and everyone can make art is because - yeah, look, I know I can draw well. I know I can make pictures that look like what they're supposed to. But fuck, don't you know that that's not all that art is? Don't you know that it's so much more than that?
This fall I did collage with my mother. She's 64 years old, she's never done collage in her life, didn't even know it was a possibility. "I don't have a creative bone in my body," she says, when she sees my paintings. But suddenly - with magazine clippings and markers and glue and paper, she made these beautiful pieces, full of expression and life and love. "Oh," she says, "I didn't know I could create something like that. I didn't know it could be so fun."
There's so much more to art than drawing and painting. And even drawing and painting is so much more than making something look like it's "supposed to." And even more importantly, it's so much more than making something "look good." It's about expression, and exploration, and finding new ways to say something. And sometimes it's just about trying something new, and having fun with it. It doesn't have to be deep, or meaningful, to have value.
Explore, and play, and create. Play with shapes, play with colour, play with texture. If you want to paint or draw something that looks like it does in real life, try! And keep trying, and trying, because it never comes out right the first time you do. But please, try other things, too. Slap some paper and glue on a page and see what you can make with it. Explore with yarn, and fabric, and anything else you can create with. Mold dollar store modeling clay, and scribble on cardboard, and see what happens. There's so many possibilities. Don't you want to explore?
But I promise you - you can create art. So please, try.
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RUINED REPUTATION — k. bkg x assistant reader
sum. katsuki bakugo is the #1 professional hero. because of this, he built an agency, and wound up hiring an assistant to help him with publicity and to do majority of his paperwork for him... something he didn’t expect was for that assistant to be so damn attractive.
warnings. smut, mdni! power imbalance (implied), slight degration, risky / quickie, scandal, sort of slowburn, reader had a small quirk (can manipulate small doses of water), intoxication, smut in later parts.
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (wip)
a/n. ty to @cafekitsune for the borders / dividers!
“YOU do know the risks, right?” my room-mate, mina, says, “i mean, i went to school with bakugo. he’s not a very.. nice person, and publicly placing yourself as his assistant could make you a target.”
i nod. “i know that.” i say, stuffing some things into my purse, “but i need this job. i love you, mina, but right now we kind of need the extra income. we’re not getting much with your job.”
she groans in frustration, “i know! but, all the villains lately just aren’t compatible with my quirk, so i’ve been leaving it to the others..” she sighs, rubbing her face.
“yeah, i know.” i say, slinging my purse over my shoulder, “it’ll just be temporary until you get back on your roll.”
“more like temporary because dynamight’ll kill you before that.” she snorts.
picking up my keys, i scoff, “i’m sure he’s not that bad. maybe he’s just a stressed out person!”
“sure. just come home in one piece, alright?” she chuckles, taking a sip of her cold coffee.
i roll my eyes and step out the door, finding my car and opening my phone for the directions to the agency.
the agency was easy enough to find — right in the middle of town with a sign in bright, orange colours: “the dynamight agency”.
i guess when you’re the #1 hero you don’t have to be scared to be found. in fact, looking at the giant building, i suspect he wants to be found; to be challenged, and to show them why he has the title of number one hero.
..and i also suspect this guy needs a serious ego check.
but i couldn’t lie and say i didn’t feel nervous. anxiety rushed through me, daring to glue me to this spot and not enter the building.
despite this, i walk through the front doors accidentally pushing a pull door and make my way to the front-desk where a pretty woman sits with two body guards beside her.
“hi,” i whisper, “i’m uh, here for the interview.. for the assistant?”
“oh! yes, you’re right on time.” she smiles, clicking a few buttons on her keyboard, “you’ll have to take the elevator up to the fiftieth floor, and in room A3.
“you’ll find a few of dynamight’s personnel as well as himself. he insisted on being there.. considering if you’re accepted you’ll be seeing a lot of eachother for a long while.”
my heart skips a beat.
“dynamight’s.. gonna be there?” i say, my eyes widening.
the lady hums, nodding her head like it was something normal to sit and have a talk with the number one hero.
i gulp, but mutter a, “thank you,” walking toward the elevators while clutching my purse with clammy hands.
pressing the button to the fiftieth floor, i feel anxiety rush through me. who was i thinking, applying for this job? i can’t handle being the assistant to dynamight!
i groaned, slapping my forehead as the reality finally set in.
i should’ve just listened to mina, and applied for some desk job or something. i figured, why not go above and beyond?
i’m so stupid!
ding!
the elevator doors open, and about a gazillion people rush into the elevator muttering nonsense to eachother or into their phones. majority held a briefcase — some are just holding loose papers, clutching onto them like their life depends on it.
i’m suddenly pushed to the back, and i try to mutter a few “excuse me”s, but to no avail — none of them could hear me, too zoned out in their own realities to care.
i was trapped.
suddenly i hear an explosion. a minor one, but undeniable.
my heart skips out of my chest. was there a villian? i’m in an elevator with fifteen people! i’m so dead. what was i thinking?!
“WHERE IS THAT DAMN ASSISTANT?” a voice screams, becoming louder by the second. “she’s late!”
“i’m sorry, dynamight, but it’s only been two minut-“
“SHUT UP! i didn’t ask you.” dynamight’s voice is now clearly in-front of us.
and then, i see him.
he’s tall, menacing — still in his hero costume that i recognize seeing on television when i was a teenager, just a little changed up.
the look on his face was undeniable. red, hot anger spilled from his aura as his eyes scanned the group of frightened workers, all frozen in place and have halted their calls and conversations.
i feel myself freeze when his eyes glaze over me, before halting. his eyes narrow, before he lifts a hand and points.
“you.” he says. “‘cmere, will ya?”
everyone’s eyes flick to me. i gulp, before nodding and slowly trying to make my way through the crowd.
“well, move out her damn way then!” dynamight hisses, and suddenly i see a path in front of me where there used to be people.
i take a deep breath, and with newfound confidence i walk forward, never breaking my eyes from his as i find myself beside him.
he snorts.
turning on his heel, he begins walking. hesitantly, i start walking beside him. he gives me a quick glare, expecting me to dip behind him but i don’t.
like i said before: he needs an ego check, and this is it.
he scoffs. “so, you’re my new assistant, or whatever?” he says, looking ahead again.
“well, i haven’t done the interview yet. so, maybe?” i say, masking my nervousness by remaining cold still except for my legs that are struggling to keep up with the hero’s pace.
he tuts. “fuck that. you’re hired, from here on out.”
then, he stops. he stands in-front of me, and it suddenly hits me how much taller he is, as he towers over me quite easily.
“which means you’ll do as i say when i say it. you work seven days a week, doing all my boring work i don’t want to do. got it?”
“seven?” my brows furrowed, “the agency said five—“
“yeah, well i say seven.” he spits, before pushing open a door. “this is your office. i’m across the hall.
“you’ll come when i call you. you’ll be dealing with all of my publicity shit as well.”
i shift on my feet. “yes, uh… sir?” i test, cringing at my own words.
his brows furrow, and his chin tips up. “good.” he says, before turning on his heel, “my manager will send you a list of things to do. get working on it.”
with that, he walks away.
my first interaction with my new boss, dynamight, couldn’t have gone any worse.
after the first few weeks, i was spent. i’d never run around so much and dealt with such work since my first year in college.
after a long day in the office, dealing with one of dynamight’s scandals—he had hooked up with another pro hero—i finally was able to go home. it was 5:30, which meant i was already in overtime.
packing up my stuff, i push open the glass door that is my office. music played through my earphones, just a simple playlist that consisted of my favourite songs i grew up on.
“y/n.”
i hum along to the tune, scrolling on my phone as i walked toward the elevator.
“y/n?”
a notification popped up; mina had texted me asking to swing by a grocery store to pick up something for dinner.
as i begun typing a reply, i was quickly stopped when i felt a hand roughly grab my shoulder and turn me around.
my heart stops in my chest as dynamight glares over me, before ripping out my earphone and scoffing.
“i called you fifty times. next time, you’ll listen, alright?” he spits.
“you were— huh?” my brows furrow.
“fuck, are you deaf, or something?!” he stops himself, rubbing his eyes before inhaling a deep breath, “a word. in my office.”
he starts walking to his office, before i speak. “sir, i— i’m already in overtime as it is. respectfully, with your recent.. scandal, i haven’t gotten much time to rest. this is my one time to.”
his steps slowly halt. he turns, glaring with those ruby eyes straight into my soul.
“in my office, y/n. now.” he seethes, “the amount of rest you get isn’t my concern.”
maybe i would’ve gotten more rest if you learned to just keep it in your pants, i think but i do not say.
“you got a problem with my orders?” he stares, testing me, trying to provoke me.
i stare back. with a sharp inhale, i mutter a—“no, sir.” while beginning on my already aching feet.
i hear another notification on my phone.
mina
girl, where are you!! foods gonna get cold
taking a quick look to dynamight, i try to quickly type back.
me
i know, sorry, will be there shortly
mr. explosion murder is mad at me 😬
mina
oh damn
praying 4 u girl
“texting your boyfriend?” dynamight scoffs, to which i quickly put my phone away.
“oh uh— no, sir.” i clear my throat.
he looks ahead and murmurs a, “good.”
“what?”
he opens the door to his office with such force i jump, the door nearly grazing my nose. he stands in-front of it, gesturing for me to enter.
when he does, he closes the door behind him.
i try to mask my nervousness, but it’s nearly impossible—who wouldn’t be nervous to be alone in a room with dynamight?
“what’d you want to talk to me about, sir?” i ask, fixing the glasses on my nose— just a small prescription, mostly for looks since i thought they were cute.
he stalks toward the chair tucked neatly into the desk in the middle of the room. sitting on it, he gestures for me to sit as well.
hesitantly, i do, folding my hands neatly in my lap.
“the board wanted me to discuss something with you,” dynamight states, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands on his open thighs.
oh gods. what is so big that the board wanted dynamight himself to talk to me alone about? was i being fired? was my work not good enough? was —
“your clothing.” he states, “you need to dress more formally.” he looks me over, eyes gesturing to the jeans and tank-top i had on.
i blink. “you.. you pulled me in here just to talk about what i wear?”
he runs a hand over his chin, inhaling. he has a slight stubble along his jaw and neck; the result of overworking himself the past few days.
lately, i’ve noticed a spike in his working hours, working longer than he usually does and longer than he needs to.
the biggest question is: why do i feel like i need to care for dynamight?
“not necessarily.” he states, leaning forward, “i’m going across tokyo for a mission. i want you to come with me.”
“what?” my brows furrow, “why?”
he sighs, “because.. i haven’t been out outside of work since my scandal, let alone talked to the press. i need you there to handle that shit for me so i can do my job.”
i ponder with his words, “..okay. well, i’d have to check with—“
“it’s not a question. it’s your job,” dynamight’s voice suddenly turns harsh, “we’re leaving tomorrow morning. i’ll pick you up by seven.”
“but you don’t know where i—“
“i know where you live.” he says, standing, peering me over when he sees i’m confused, “it’s in your work file.” he adds.
“oh. right.” i sigh in relief, thankful he wasn’t some stalker who found out where i lived by following me home.
wait, why would he even do that in the first place? whatever..
the door opens, and i turn to see dynamight standing irritably beside it. catching up on context clues, i grab my things and rush out the room.
that is, before i’m stopped by a hand on my shoulder. he leans closer, glaring ahead of him. i can feel the heat emitting from his hand, his body, and i freeze beneath his aura.
“and y/n?” he says, “if you’re going to wear that shirt.. wear a fucking bra next time.” he seethes.
practically pushing me out the room, i feel the door slam behind me.
i feel my face flush as i peer down to my shirt — i thought i could get away without wearing one today but i guess i was wrong.
fuck. how embarrassing was that?!
mina:
u alive?
me:
FML!!!
after i had gotten home, i told mina everything. needless to say, she was shocked — “seriously? travelling across the country with bakugo?”
“yeah. and for a week!”
“oh, you’re so done for.” she snorts, “i could barely handle a few hours with that kid back in highschool, let alone be with him all day long.”
i sigh, taking a sip of my water, placing it on the counter as i jump up to sit on it.
“he’s not.. that bad.” i cringe at my own words, “just a little misunderstood.”
“oh, please.”
“serious!” i cry, taking a bite of my donut, “i mean, he is an asshole, but working alongside him isn’t so bad.
“plus, majority of time he’ll just be ripping up some villains. all i get is some sweet vacation.” i shrug.
mina spares me a look, “are you sure you don’t have some sort of crush on him, or something?”
i gasp. a harsh blush finds my cheeks, and i want to crumble in on myself. “what? no!” my voice cracks as i am quick to defend myself.
she snorts. “you’re only ever like this when you have a crush!”
“am not.” i say, hiding my face from her.
“you’re blushinggg..” she teases, “you so have a crush on him!
groaning, i jump off the counter and make my way to the couch instead of the kitchen.
“don’t try and hide it!” mina calls from the kitchen. i roll my eyes and ignore her, flicking on the television.
the news was on.
the lady on the screen speaks, “number one hero, dynamight, was seen only two days ago with a top-ten hero. rumours have speculated about the two — are they dating, or was it just a fling? here’s what we think…”
i groan. another mention of this stupid scandal was gonna make my head explode.
the press didn’t know who it was he had slept with, but i did — it was double trouble, a hero with a doubled voice quirk that could control others bodies.
i always thought she was cool. standing at fourth place, she was a well known pro-hero in the area.
and also known to be happily married with two kids.
so why, on earth, did dynamight have to sleep with her? he had to be stupid to, she was pretty, but he really needed to get better with his publicity skills.
being the cause of an affair wasn’t getting better at it.
and if any information got out of it being double trouble, he’d not only have ruined his reputation but ruined double troubles life.
so, i spent the last week making sure every last bit of this scandal was wrapped up and sealed away. everything on the internet, security cameras, was wiped out of the world.
turning on one of my favourite shows, i set down my phone and get comfortable on the couch.
finally, i could relax.
and slowly, but surely, i fall into a slumber.
..
nearly an hour later, i hear a knock at the door. i groan, annoyed my sleep was disrupted and even more annoyed someone decided to knock on my door at midnight.
“can’t i just get one night of peace?” i mumble to myself as i push myself off the couch, fixing the tank-top strap on my shoulder.
walking to the door, i run a hand through my hair to attempt to tame the wild mess caused by sleep.
i open it, the door creaking as i did, peeking my head out the door. and…
i see no other thank katsuki bakugo, better known as dynamight.
he’s clutching the side of his torso, clutching the doorframe as he attempts to keep himself up.
he looks up, cheeks flushed, wearing casual wear — well, casual until you see the giant blood stain ruining his white tee shirt.
“i.. i didn’t know where else to go.”
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What I’m thinkin’ about today: Mitsuki being wayyyyy too involved in y’all’s sex life (or trying to be, anyway). She’s waited a long ass time for Katsuki to find you, and she wants grandkids like nobody’s business!
I’m thinking like, getting you gift cards to Victoria’s Secret so you can get lingerie, suggesting different positions (that supposedly increase the chances of conception…). Suggesting foods to eat (that supposedly make you more fertile, but she’ll talk up their other nutritional points of course). Heaven forbid you act even a little sick/off around her, you can see that glint in her eye. Sure, she’ll go get you some medicine from the store! Along with several pregnancy tests. Get well soon!
She doesn’t mean any of this maliciously by any means…she’s just…Mitsuki. And she’s overexcited. Drives Katsuki up the fucking wall
Warnings: 18+, lingerie and Mitsuki way too interested in your sex life.
You should’ve known the first time that you met Mitsuki that this would happen, bringing you into a warm hug as she welcomed you into the family. Immediately breaking off into a speech about how excited she was to have grandchildren and that Bakugou was lucky to have you, that she thought he’d never settle down and find someone to put up with him. Slapping his chest and telling him not to fuck it up as he grumbled about having absolutely no intention on doing so. This was six months into your relationship.
Because of that, Bakugou tried his best to keep you apart as much as possible. Although neither of you were immune to the texts and calls bluntly asking whether you’d fornicated today, her eyes lighting up with glee whenever Bakugou would tell her that you’re not feeling well. Disappointed to find out that it was just the common cold and not morning sickness making her dreams come true.
You’d admit the designs she’d created with Masaru for children’s clothes were adorable, and once you and Bakugou were ready to conceive you’d have a wardrobe stocked full of gorgeous clothes for your newborn. But until then, the conversations were becoming a little indecent.
Christmas Day this year was no different, luring you into a false sense of security with only one question about pregnancy the entire festive day. Sitting down in the living room to exchange presents after Christmas dinner you gave Mitsuki a warm smile as she handed you her gift.
It was definitely not what you’d been expecting, lifting up the lacy forest green lingerie out of the black tissue paper that it was hiding in. Noticing the tag from a high end lingerie brand, wondering whether it was the bottom or the top you were holding between your fingers as you felt Bakugou stiffen beside you too.
“That’s Katsuki’s favourite colour.”
You’d think most daughter-in-laws would be mortified to be gifted something like this from their mother-in-law, especially with your boyfriend and father-in-law in the same room. But you almost shook your head at the hilarity of it, wondering how she’d managed to order your exact size too. Poor Masaru looked apologetic as he gave you a nervous smile from his position beside his wife, obviously wading in the calm before the storm.
“Why the fuck would you get that for her, woman?” Bakugou growls, snatching the lace that would probably be considered string out of your hands to shove it back into the box with pink cheeks. How was that even supposed to fit your—
“You’ll like it, you ungrateful brat. I’m doing this for you—” She sneered back, already feeling the tension in the room rising as Masaru tried to invite you for some warm eggnog.
Your mother-in-law had been ecstatic the moment that Bakugou had brought you home for the first time, with her son reaching his thirties she’d seemingly begun to give up hope that he’d bring home anyone.
“I’m surprised he could find anyone to put up with him, especially someone as pretty as you!” Mitsuki would repeat constantly, Bakugou grunting in the background as she looked at you with pure fondness, “I always wanted a daughter.”
But it wasn’t long before the true motives were revealed, the years of arduous waiting for Mitsuki. Telling you that she wanted to be a young Grandmother, a cool Grandma (something that would make Bakugou scoff as she hit him upside the head like clockwork), and she didn’t even mind how many.
And you’d admit it was a little peculiar, receiving links to Cosmopolitan talking about the best sex positions for successfully getting pregnant, or articles about food to eat to help with fertility. The first time you showed Bakugou it had resulted in a thirty minute screaming match on the phone with his mother where he threatened to have Grandkids just so he could make sure she’d never see them, but you knew that was a bluff.
“I fuckin’ knew there was a reason you were plying her with pomegranate juice like some creep, you old hag.”
It’s not that you didn’t want to have kids with Bakugou, you’d both discussed it a lot. And the allusion to him filling you up to make you round and plump carrying his child was included with some of the filth that would spew from his mouth whenever he’d press your legs up to your chest as he plowed into you at night. But you were both just waiting for the right time.
But unfortunately for you, Mitsuki thought that time was now.
“Midoriya’s son is almost two,” She lamented, “Inko just sent me pictures of his first swimming lesson.”
But the final straw was when Bakugou found the ovulation app on his mothers phone, finally explaining the weeks of phone calls asking about whether you’d had some alone time together yet. All the dots slowly adding together—
It felt a shame to waste the pretty lingerie though, the intrigue of how the straps would fit against your curves had you pondering as you got home that evening with your boyfriend. Slipping away into the bathroom to try it on as the silk hugged your curves, wide eyes looking at your reflection in the mirror as the thin piece of string that was supposedly the crotch dug into your mound, sitting between your labia as it involuntarily spread you apart. How would anyone find this comfortable?
“Are you comin’ to bed?” Bakugou stepped into the en suite without knocking, his tired eyes immediately widening at the sight of you, “Dad just text to apologise for— Shit.”
“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” You turned to face him, your hands squeezing your tits as you tried to get the sheer lace to sit right, “You can see my nipples through it-”
You didn’t get a second to finish as Bakugou had your ass pressed against the bathroom counter, warm palms curving beneath your thighs to sit you on top of it as he bullied his way between your legs. Wrestling with his belt as he tugged his pants down just enough to free his aching cock, the rage inside him for his mother buying you such a lewd present all but forgotten the moment he witnessed the soft fabric against your skin.
“Katsuki, fuck—“ You gasped, feeling him tug the string to the side just enough for him to sink inside your warm, wet cunt.
If you both hadn’t been so distracted you would’ve noticed the two pregnancy tests sitting at the bottom of the lingerie box, everything about your gift planned to the t.
And for Mitsuki’s luck, Christmas Day fell on your ovulation schedule perfectly.
#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#katsuki bakugou smut#bnha x reader#bnha smut#mha x reader#mha smut
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Something In The Orange
Requested: no
Summary: When Mav pulls Bradley’s papers, you have no idea. You only find out when your boyfriend dissapears in the middle of the night.
Word count: 3.6k
Warnings: smut, blowjobs, handjob, oral sex (male & fem!receiving) fingering, penetrative sex, foul language, loss of virginity, angst, break ups, crying, fights, insecurity, complicated relationships, drifting apart. Please let me know if I missed anything! 18+
Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader
Bradley was the first person that you ever really loved. The two of you had met during your junior year of high school. Ever since then, the two of you had become inseparable. You finally started dating the summer before your senior year. Bradley had applied to USNA and you had a scholarship to go to law school in Texas. Even though you had only been together for just over a year, you felt like you would spend the rest of your life with Bradley.
Now, you were riding shotgun in Bradley’s blue Bronco. You were on the way back to his house. His fingers were intertwined with yours as he pulled up to the sidewalk. Your boyfriend pressed a kiss to your knuckles as he shut the truck off. Hopping down, he rounded the front of the truck and opened your door for you.
The two of you walked hand in hand toward the door. The house that he, Mav, and Ice were staying in had light blue siding and a large white front porch. There was an American flag hanging from the roof of the porch and a large elm tree in the middle of the unfenced yard. Ever since Carole passed a few months ago, Mav and Bradley had been staying with Ice.
You were quiet as you slipped into the darkness of the house. The two of you giggled quietly as Bradley led you up the stairs and into his bedroom. The sound of the door clicking softly behind you mixed with your laboured breaths was all that could be heard in the tiny room.
Tonight was finally going to be the first time that you and Bradley had sex. And while Bradley had some experience in this field, you had no idea what you were doing.
Bradley’s hands settled on the side of your face as his lips moulded together with yours. You melted into the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth when it traced the seam of your lips. A quiet, high-pitched whine escaped you as his tongue tangled with yours.
He pulled away a few seconds later, laughing quietly as his forehead knocked against yours. “You gotta be quiet baby.” There was a sheepish smile on your face as a blush crept up your chest. Mav and Ice were right down the hall. You didn’t need them to hear anything of what was about to happen.
Suddenly, Bradley’s mouth went bone dry at the sight of you sinking onto your knees. You stared up at him as you brought one hand up to palm him through his jeans. He tossed his head back in a moan as you squeezed him softly.
Your boyfriend was panting when he looked back down. Slowly, you started to pull the zipper of his fly down. Then, as if you were teasing him, you popped the button on his jeans before dragging the material down his legs. That left him standing in front of you in nothing but his boxers. The sight made your mouth water.
With wide eyes, you glanced up at Bradley. He nodded encouragingly and sucked in a sharp breath when you began dragging his boxers down his legs.
His cock slapped against his stomach as you pulled the fabric down. There was a look of concertation on your face as you reached a hand up and gripped the base of his dick. It was one that Bradley had seen so many times before, usually when you had your nose hurried in a book. This time, however, was much less innocent.
You began moving your hand up and down his length, stroking him until he was fully hard.
By the time you were satisfied, there was a few drops of precum leaking from the head of his cock. The tip was an angry red colour. The whole time your hand was moving over him, you had been transfixed by the sound of his desperate moans and whimpers.
Bradley noticed the hesitant look in your eyes as you stared at the way his hips bucked in desperation. His hand settled against the soft skin of your cheek. “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
You instantly began shaking your head. You wanted this.
Sucking in a shaky breath, you steeled yourself before tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock once more. You gripped him firmly, leaning forward until your breath was ghosting across his tip.
When Bradley felt your puckered lips press a soft kiss to the crown of his cock, he had to stop himself from cursing aloud. You slowly began to grow more confident. Eventually, you were licking a stripe up from his balls to his tip, slipping the plush head inside your mouth afterward. That time, Bradley did curse.
You began suckling on the first few inches of his cock. You hollowed your cheeks as you began bobbing your head up and down, trying to recall any tips or tricks you had heard from your friends.
Bradley groaned above you, head tossed back against the door as his hand wove into your hair. A surprised moan vibrated from your mouth and through his cock when he tugged on your roots. Your tongue traced the vein on the bottom of his cock as you pushed yourself further and further down him until you were gagging around his length.
A choked gasp escaped him as he pulled you off his length. Bradley was panting as your hand continued to move slowly up and down his shaft. There was a devilish look in your eyes as your hand trailed down to his balls. You grinned as you squeezed softly, rolling them around in your hand.
“Get up, Honey,” His eyes were hooded, pleasure clouding the now-dark irises. You obeyed, standing before him as his hands gripped your hips. Harsh enough to leave bruises. You slipped your shirt over your head, grinning at the way Bradley’s eyes were focused on your tits. Your breath caught in your throat at the intense look in his eyes when he made eye contact with you. “I’m gonna make you feel real good.”
You allowed Bradley to lead you back toward the bed. Your knees hit the back of the bed, causing you to fall onto the soft sheets. Bradley knelt between your spread legs. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the hungry look in his eyes.
Before you knew it, Bradley was slipping your shorts down your legs. Your breathing grew heavy as he began peppering kisses over the supple skin of your thighs. He kissed his way up to your center, leaving delicate purple marks in his wake.
Soft moans escaped you as he began to press gentle kisses over your clothed cunt. The cotton slowly soaked through.
Bradley looked up at you, eyes silently asking if you were sure about this. When you nodded your head softly, he grinned. Seconds later, the fabric was being dragged down your legs slowly. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his tongue trailing up the inside of your thigh.
The next thing you knew his lips were wrapped around your clit, causing your hips to buck wildly off the bed. You moaned loudly. Bradley's eyes darted up to yours, a cocky smirk on his face. “You gotta be quiet, baby.” He reprimanded you gently.
Over the course of the next few minutes, Bradley ate you out like a starved man. He had your legs thrown over his shoulders, one hand gripping your leg while the other pinned your hips to the bed.
You did your best to control your moans, even going as far as biting your own hand to keep yourself quiet. Bradley’s tongue laved over your dripping hole. A high-pitched whine fell from your lips at the feeling of him slipping his tongue into your hole.
You could feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. The feeling kept building and building, so much so until you couldn’t hold back any longer. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, the feeling disappeared completely. “I want to cum around me.” His words alone we’re almost enough to send you over the edge.
He slowly crawled up your body, hands skimming gently over your soft skin. His hard cock brushed against your lower abdomen as he settled on top of you. You grinned up at him and he gave you a reassuring smile in return.
Bradley pressed a plethora of kisses to the side of your neck. Pleasured gasps tumbled from your mouth as your back arched off the bed. “Condom,” You moaned out. “Bradley get a condom.”
Feeling his body weight disappear for a few seconds, your eyes fluttered shut as you waited for him to return. When you felt the bed dip beside you, a flush began rising up your chest. Your eyes opened slowly, taking in the sight of Bradley kneeling above you, fisting his cock slowly. You moaned at the sight, watching as he rolled the condom down his length.
Nerves filled you as Bradley lowered himself onto you. “You ready baby?” You nodded, sucking in a shaky breath as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds. When it swiped over your clit you let out a sinful moan. Bradley groaned at the sound.
He stared deep into your eyes, reassurance shining through. Slowly, inch by inch, he eased himself into you. Your lips parted in a silent scream, suddenly overwhelmed by the intrusion. Bradley lowers himself down, cradling you to his chest as he whispered sweet nothings into your damp hair.
Before you knew it, Bradley was seated balls deep inside of you. You panted harshly at the stretch, eyes screwing shut at the foreign feeling. “Tell me when.” Your boyfriend's voice was low and raspy as he fought his hardest to restrain himself. You were clenching so beautifully around him that he almost lost it the second he slid in. You nodded distractedly, willing the slight discomfort away.
After a few minutes, you nodded softly. “Please just,” You murmured quietly, still trying to catch your breath. “Just be gentle.” Bradley smiled down at you. You knew that he would, you just needed to remind him.
Bradley began slowly rocking into you, only slipping out a few inches before pushing back in. You moaned at the feeling, eyes rolling back as his tip brushed against a spot so deep inside you it made you want to cry.
The only sounds that could be heard in the small bedroom were the sounds of yours and Bradley’s joint moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin. Your boyfriend's hips rutted into yours quickly, drawing cry after cry from your parted and cracked lips.
Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, Bradley let out a deep groan at the feeling of your wet cunt clenching around his cock.
The feeling from earlier returned. You could feel the hot white pressure building, a coil tightening more and more with each of his sharp thrusts. You hardly noticed the way his pace grew sloppy. His warm breath fanned across the skin of your neck as you arched off the bed.
The sound of Bradley letting out a high-pitched whine had you gripping his cock like a vice. “Please Bradley,” You begged breathlessly. “‘M gonna cum,” Bradley nodded, eyes screwed shut as his hand drifted down to your core. “Fuck!” You exclaimed at the feeling of his fingers circling your clit in tight, precise patterns.
That coil was winding tighter and tighter, right up until one final nudge of his cock against that little spongy spot inside you sent you falling quickly over the edge. Bradley followed close behind, hot spurts of cum filling the condom as your cunt milked him dry. He continued to rock into you, working the pair of you through your intense highs.
He stilled inside of you a few seconds later. The pair of you continued panting as you wound your arms around his back. You stared up at the ceiling, a blissed-out grin on your face. you were so glad that you and Bradley had finally done that. All the nerves and worries from earlier had disappeared completely once Bradley first slipped in.
That blissed-out smile soon turned into a wince when he slipped out of you. He crawled off of you and dropped the used condom into the trash can. Bradley disappeared to the washroom. You followed on shaky legs. Bradley stood in front of the toilet, finishing his business before stepping over to the sink.
You sat down on the toilet and shot him a lazy grin. Once you were finished you flushed the toilet, cringing slightly at the sight of blood in the bowl. You had heard that that could happen but it didn’t make you any more comfortable.
Hand in hand, you and Bradley made your way back toward the bed, collapsing onto it in a fit of giggles. You snuggled together under the covers, your head resting on Bradley’s sweaty chest and his arm tucked under your shoulders.
Your eyes slowly fluttered shut, the post-sex haze making you feel sleepy. You tucked yourself under Bradley's chin, snuggling into the crook of his neck. “I love you, baby girl,” You heard him whisper. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer into his warmth. “Please don't ever forget that.” You hummed quietly, murmuring something along the same lines. Your words were slurred as you allowed sleep to pull you under.
“I love you too, Brad.”
The roar of Mav’s motorcycle was what woke you up in the morning. You stretched with a yawn, frowning when you felt the empty bed. You sat up, blinking quickly as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. There was an orange glow streaming through the bedroom window and a quick glance at the clock told you it was just before 6 o’clock.
You got dressed slowly, guessing that Bradley and Ice were sitting downstairs having breakfast. However, the house was eerily quiet. Usually, when you stayed the night, you were woken by sloppy kisses being peppered across your face or the sound of Maverick and Ice laughing downstairs.
As you headed down the stairs, you continued to grow confused. You couldn’t even hear the scraping of utensils against plates. You rounded the corner into the kitchen, eyebrows furrowing when you found Ice sitting at the counter alone. He had a note clutched in his hands.
“Ice?” The sound of your voice caused his head to whip up. There was a sadness in his eyes, one that suddenly made you question why Mav sped off so fast this morning. “What’s going on?”
You sat down across from him, eyes the paper in his hand suspiciously. “Morning kiddo.” He had a sad smile on his face.
Worry grew in the pit of your stomach. “Where did Mav go? And,” You paused, glancing around the room in search of your boyfriend. “Where’s Bradley?” Ice almost didn’t want to tell you what happened.
He sighed, glancing between the note and your curious and oblivious eyes. “Look kiddo,” The Capitan started. He really didn’t know how to explain it to you in a way that wouldn’t destroy you. Honestly, he wasn’t sure that that was possible. “Just, just read this.” He handed the paper to you. It appeared as if had been crumpled and balled up multiple times. There were dark spots that you guessed had come from tears.
The letter was addressed to you and Ice. You found it odd that there was no mention of Mav. As you read through it, any hope that you had that everything was going to be okay died. It was from Bradley, explaining that due to the recent actions of Maverick, he couldn’t stand to live anywhere near Ice or Mav. He didn’t want them to have any say in what he did with his life. Nowhere in the letter did it explain why he wanted that.
“So,” You choked out, staring at the letter as you spoke to Ice. “What is this supposed to mean?” You stared at him, hands beginning to shake and tears welling in your eyes.
The older man stared at you with sympathy. “Bradley left last night,” A sob bubbled out of your chest. “Oh honey,” He cooed, pulling you into his chest as you cried. “Mav did something stupid and Bradley decided to leave,” His hand moved up and down your beck softly. “It’s not your fault.” He promised quietly.
You pulled back, breathing fast and hiccuping as you tried to calm yourself down. “Please Ice,” you practically begged him. “Please tell me that you’re kidding?” There was a sad smile on his face. You broke down into tears once again. “No,” You gasped out. You could feel your heart pounding on the inside of your skull. “He wouldn’t leave. Not after last night.” The reminder of what happened last night froze you in your tracks.
How could he do that after what happened last night? he knew how important that was for you. Apparently, it didn’t mean as much to him. Out of all the ways that you would have guessed this morning would go, either eating breakfast with your boyfriend’s makeshift family or sneaking out when no one was looking, you never thought that Bradley would have disappeared in the middle of the night. You never imagined waking up to find out that your boyfriend had left you without a goodbye after the night that you had spent together.
You had been there for him when Carole passed, holding him for weeks after he dealt with the loss of his mother. And now, he couldn’t even say goodbye or explain to you why he was leaving. There was hardly even a mention of you in the note he left. You thought that you at least meant a little more to him than that.
“What happened last night?” Ice’s question drew you out of your daydream. You shook your head. You felt as if you were going to be sick. Before Ice could stop you, you were rushing to the backyard, pacing around the deck as you sucked in laboured breaths.
The sliding door closed softly behind you, alerting you to the man's presence. Ice took a seat on one of the chairs, patiently waiting for you to explain why you were suddenly so distraught.
A humourless laugh escaped you. You couldn’t even begin to feel embarrassed about what you were about to admit, too consumed with a mixture of worry and betrayal. “We slept together last night. For the first time.” It was hardly a whisper and in the background noise of Miramar waking up, it was almost drowned out completely. And yet, Ice still heard you loud and clear. He heard the tremble in your voice as you spoke and he saw the way your hands shook.
Ice remained silent, watching as you stopped pacing. You set your hands on your hips, staring out over the fence at the rising sun. With a sigh, the Capitan stood from his seat and walked over behind you. “I just can’t believe he would leave.” You whispered brokenly. Bradley meant the world to you. It sucked learning that you didn’t mean enough for him to stay.
The pair of you stood on the edge of the deck in silence, Ice’s arm wound around your shoulders as he tried to comfort you. “I know,” He whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Tears fell down your face in steady streams as you came to terms with what happened.
Bradley had left. And as you stared at the orange hue tinting the sky, you knew that he was never coming home. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to him. Ice held you as you cried, wishing that this was all just a bad dream.
You spent the rest of the summer trying to move on from Bradley. It didn’t work, you knew it wouldn’t, but you couldn’t deny the small sliver of hope in your mind that one day Bradley would come home. He never did, and so, in the fall, you boarded a plane for Texas. Ice had dropped you off. He saw the distant and longing look in your eye. The spark that had once been there had now died.
While you were away, you and Ice kept in contact. You hardly spoke to Mav. Ever since Bradley had left, the man that had once been like a father to you wanted nothing to do with you. Ice could have told you why but honestly, you didn’t want to know. Bradley hadn’t even bothered trying to contact you. You didn’t know whether you appreciated that he stayed gone, or if you resented him for ever leaving in the first place. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you knew it was closer to the second option.
Years later you graduated law school and went on to become a lawyer. Time went on and eventually, you didn’t think of Bradley every day. There were some days when the memory would pop up again, reminding you of all the pain you left behind. Each time it happened, you wished that you could forget everything about that small town. But, you could never be able to forget Bradley Bradshaw. After all, he was the first man you ever loved.
a/n: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it ☺️ requests are open.
Tagging: @topguncultleader @t0kyoreveng3rs @soulmates8 @there-goes-thefighter @blueoorchid @dreamgirl3300 @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @genius2050 @ice-doc-val @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @natt-67 @anglebabyange @oliviah-25
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best friend’s brother
⚬ pairing: joshua x fem!reader
⚬ word count: 37k
⚬ warnings: alcohol, mentions of unsafe sex/unplanned pregnancy
⚬ genres: timestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.
✧✎ synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.
✧✎ a/n: this is a rewrite of an old fic that i uploaded in 2016. keep in mind the original version was only 13k! i've made so many changes to this story and i really hope those who read it enjoy it! thank you sm!
⇢ here is this fic’s inspo playlist
⇢ smut section is marked!
⇢ taglist included in final author’s note
13.
You flipped to the next page of the plastic binder and squiggled a small ‘seven’ inside the margin. Then, your eyes wandered back to the math textbook sitting in between you and your best friend. It was difficult to study on Jennie’s bed, but she liked it that way, and there definitely wasn’t enough room at her desk.
“Okay, this part shouldn’t be too hard,” she said, using the tip of her pencil to trace the question, “we just have to graph this line, and we already know the y-intercept is going to be negative three.”
“This would be so much easier if the teacher handed out graph paper. Look at this grid I just drew, it’s so ugly.”
Jennie leaned over her left shoulder to look at your binder and started laughing. It was probably the saddest grid in history.
“I have a ruler somewhere,” the girl offered, pushing up onto her knees and patting around the bed, “at least, I think I do… or—maybe he took it. Yeah, of course, he definitely has it, stupid idiot.”
“Who? Joshua?” You asked.
She huffed again, sliding back onto her stomach.
“Mmhm, told me he needed it for his physics homework,” she uttered the word in a fancy-established way, as though she were making fun of it, “he never gives back any of my stuff.”
The only thing you could do was swallow and nod your head, meanwhile this awkward smile was slapped onto your mouth. You loved Jennie, you really did, but the only reason you agreed to homework and supper at her house was because of a very specific reason—this was the one night her older brother didn’t have any guitar or baseball lessons, or some outing planned with his friends. And, well, you hadn’t seen him at all since you’d gotten here, but he’d inevitably have to come down for dinner. Joshua, that was his name.
He was about two years older than you, and despite never having a conversation with him before, there was a lot you already knew about him. For example, Joshua always wore the same beat-up pair of white converse sitting in the front foyer. He liked collecting these weird, colourful band t-shirts and he routinely made Jennie bring him a piece of Double Bubble whenever he didn’t have any. It was pretty unimportant information, actually, but not to you.
“Shoot, it’s almost time for to eat,” Jennie announced, looking back at the alarm clock on her bedside table, “my parents will probably call us down any minute. Guess no more homework.” She flipped the textbook shut and cleared all her notes away. “Also, what do you want to do after dinner? My mom said we can walk to the river. We might be able to catch some frogs.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, we should do that.”
“Totes,” Jennie smiled, “okay, I’m gonna see if they need any help setting the table. Hey, do you wanna grab Josh from his room? Tell him to come down?”
Almost immediately, you shot up onto your knees.
“Me?” You reiterated, aiming a finger at yourself.
Jennie threw on a small wool cardigan from the spine of her desk chair, tilting her head at you in amusement.
“Mmhm. Yeah, you. Who else is in here? Just grab him, ‘kay? And make sure you knock kinda loud ‘cause sometimes he’s got his earbuds in, so he can’t hear.”
Before you could even hope to oppose, she was already out the door and skipping downstairs, and you listened to the sound of her socks sliding against their hardwood floors until everything was silent. Okay, yes, you’d wanted to see Joshua and maybe find an excuse to say even a word to him, but as your docile, thirteen-year old self, asking him to join you for dinner was like…like asking you to take the sun out of the sky—very much impossible. But you were also too worried to not do anything, so you settled for a nervous walk down the hall, where Joshua’s door was covered with posters.
You knocked, though not that loudly.
When there was no answer, your face exploded into heat and you already questioned just leaving him to his devices.
But you tried knocking again, harsher this time, only to be met with the same poster of a woman wearing red, star-shaped glasses. You pressed your ear to the door. It sounded a little too quiet. And for some god awful, stupid reason that you could not compute, you decided to open Joshua’s bedroom door and just waltz right in like it was second nature. Except, there was no one. His room was empty, the shades fully drawn so everything was tinted dark, and surprisingly, it was quite neat for a fifteen-year-old boy. You saw his guitar propped in the corner, and some shiny medals dangling above his bed from baseball competitions.
He had a lava lamp sitting on his desk, purplish and hot yellow, which left a very impressionable dent on you, because you’d always wanted a lava lamp and this cute boy just happened to own one. You even saw Jennie’s ruler sitting next to a massive textbook on his desk, beside a tiny glass and acrylic cube of the solar system.
His room seemed like the most fascinating place on Earth.
“Uh, did Jennie tell you to come in here?”
Shoot!
It was horribly audible, that embarrassing suckle of breath you heaved in through your teeth, and when you turned around to meet the boy who was looking at you so concerningly, you realized he wasn’t mad (which was wonderful, since you already felt on the verge of tears and having this boy snap would definitely be the hand to push you over the edge). He reached out to flick on a light.
“Dinner’s ready,” you told him, your voice shaking a little.
“Okay,” Joshua answered, “are you… looking for something?”
“No, sorry, I’ll leave now. I’m really sorry.”
You didn’t know what you were saying as you stumbled past the boy blindly, but he’d moved to let you shuffle by, even tapped the door open a bit wider for you. By the time you were downstairs, you grabbed a large glass of water and chugged it, knowing that was the first time you’d ever felt this winded—the fact it had made the air simultaneously thicker and harder to breathe. Joshua came down about a minute later to grab a soda can from the fridge, meanwhile Jennie and her parents were adjusting the table.
“Do you like cream soda?” He asked you.
“My mom says they’re not hea—um, never mind.”
Yeah, say that, you thought, and he’ll think you’re a big loser.
“I’ll leave one in the fridge,” Joshua responded with a shrug.
When he popped open the tab to his drink, it started foaming and spilling orange soda onto the rim, which he slurped up quickly over the sink. You just stood there idly, watching him, thinking he was the most attractive thing in the universe, and you didn’t begin to question these feelings until you were standing alone in the kitchen.
What did it even mean to be attracted to someone? And should you really be this giddy about your best friend’s brother?
14.
You were standing outside, balancing on the edge of the curb, trying not to sway backwards due to the immense weight from your backpack—stuffed with two textbooks, a gigantic binder, and the big thermos that had held your lunch. Jennie was crouched down beside you, twiddling her thumbs as she stared at her phone. Exams were starting in the middle of June, so you two decided to get a leg up and take the study sessions to her house. Joshua was supposed to come around front and pick you up, but he was pretty damn late.
“Bet he’s fooling around in the parking lot w’Hansol,” Jennie grumbled, clicking off her phone and shielding her eyes from the bright summer sun, “I’m gonna melt. It’s so freaking hot out.”
“Do you want to go back inside and use the fountain?”
“No, ‘cause that’s when he’ll show up. He left me here once, y’know? All because I went back inside to get my gym shoes.”
“That doesn’t seem like him,” you said, smiling.
Jennie reached out her hand and you pulled her up.
“Mmhm, he just pretends to be all cute and Mr. Polite when my friends are around,” the girl rolled her eyes, “but he’s so mean.”
Mean? You couldn’t imagine Joshua being mean. You suppose he did order Jennie around sometimes, nagging her to do his chores or grab him another can of soda, but that just seemed like normal sibling behaviour. Besides, there were times when Joshua was plenty sweet, like when he’d come into the basement to bring you and Jennie ice cream (though you might’ve heard his mom urging him to do it, because there’s a ‘guest’ over). With a voice like his, you couldn’t even imagine him yelling.
“Oh! There! Finally!” Jennie flung out her arm to point at the silver-bullet car approaching the curb. “Gosh, took him forever.”
The passenger seat window rolled down, and you recognized Joshua’s best friend, Hansol, who wiggled his fingers to wave.
“You’re late,” Jennie barked through the window.
Joshua turned down his radio ever so slightly, only to shake his head and gesture for her to hurry up and climb inside. When you wriggled into the back, there was hardly enough room between your knees and Joshua’s reclined seat, forcing you to sit the uncomfortable backpack on your lap. Jennie leaned forward before she clicked on her seatbelt, giving her older brother a whack on the head.
“Pull up your chair, dummy. Give the girl some room.”
“Oh—shit, sorry.” He mumbled, and it seemed like Joshua hadn’t even realized you’d climbed into the car until his eyes glanced into the rear mirror, and suddenly, the seat was yanked forward.
Hansol turned around, “are you guys thirsty? I’m trying to convince Josh to stop at Joe’s Corner Store for some alcoholic beverages.”
“Why did you whisper it?” Jennie asked.
“Because it’s illegal.”
“Yeah, no duh. We’re all underage.” She folded her arms.
“Pretend I meant sodas,” Hansol smiled wide and gummy, revealing his rows of brace-covered teeth, “so what’chya thinking?”
“Yeah,” Jennie obliged, “I guess I’m thirsty. Let’s do it.”
Joshua was already at the stop sign, shaking his head.
“No, alright? Mom wants us home by two-forty-five. If we stop at Joe’s then we’re gonna push it, and I just got back car key privileges. Can’t you drink something when we get home?”
You were fully inclined to stay out of their sibling disputes, so you settled for looking out the window instead, watching a sprinkler shower a garden. That is until you felt a nudge against your elbow and Jennie was gesturing at you with her head to say something.
“He won’t say no to you,” she whispered between her teeth.
“U-Um,” you piped up, feeling hotter than the blacktop, “I’m, uh, really… I’m really thirsty too. Can we stop at Joe’s?”
Jennie pinched the back of your hand, murmuring, “y’have to add in ‘please, Joshua’, and sell it too.”
You were blinking at her awkwardly the entire time.
“Um… please… Joshua.”
Even though both directions were clear, her older brother still hadn’t turned yet, and from the way Jennie was clasping her hands together expectantly, you were hoping that pathetic ask was enough. When you glanced toward the rear-view mirror, Joshua was already looking at you. Honestly, you didn’t think you had the power to sway him even relatively, but then he flicked his signal to the right.
“Yes!” Hansol shouted from the front, “I’m gonna mix the cherry slush with the blue raspberry, and no one can stop me!”
“No one wants to,” Jennie remarked.
She then sent you a wink, which seemed unnecessary and kind of confusing because it felt like she was saying, ‘see, I told you.’
At your age, it was easy to take Joshua’s compliance as a gesture much bigger than it actually was, and for some reason, you already knew that. He was just being nice, is all, sweet, like he had to.
You were his little sister’s best friend.
“A large? Your brain can’t handle a large, Hansol.”
Jennie was standing behind Hansol at the slushie machine, watching him with a judgemental expression as he bent down the little handle and a bunch of icy, cherry red slush fell into his cup. You didn’t really know a lot about Hansol, minus the best friend to Joshua part and the fact his shaggy brown hair desperately needed a trim, but you did pick up that Jennie was always bickering with the boy and trying to get his attention. Most times, you ignored them.
Despite bending to your friend’s plea and asking Joshua to stop for drinks, you didn’t have any extra change lying around, even in the crevices of your backpack. Jennie was using money she earned from her allowance, and Hansol had just gotten payed the other day due to his first job at the bowling alley. You were staring at the glass display of bottles and cans across the store when Joshua came around the corner, holding onto his usual—an orange cream soda.
Pretending not to notice him seemed like a definite way to erase his presence, but you surely weren’t that dumb at fourteen.
“Are you almost ready to go?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Joshua reached into his pocket and checked his phone.
“Five minutes to get home,” he sighed, “it’ll be close—hey, didn’t you say you were thirsty or something? Changed your mind?”
You shrugged, “I realized I don’t have any money.”
“Oh,” Joshua responded, and the silence that hung in the tacky, air-conditioned sweat lodge that was Joe’s Corner Store was suddenly palpable, “I, um, I don’t have any extra on me, sorry.”
The only thing you could do was smile at him, and it must’ve creeped him out or something, because Joshua decided to turn around and go find Hansol who was inquiring about lottery tickets at the front counter. You waited outside while everyone paid, sat down in the shade provided by the cute, kitschy overhang painted with soft green and spring flowers. Joshua came outside first, which you noted from the pair of white converse that had just stepped beside you in the stones. And then, a can of cream soda was lowered to your face.
“Do you want this?” Joshua offered.
You glanced up at him, but only for an instant.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
When everyone shuffled back into the car, Hansol was already jabbering at Joshua to crank up the air while he rolled the slushie against his cheek. Jennie was just about to poke a straw into her cold tea when she noticed the bright orange can in your lap, which you’d wanted to hide from her. It was just that, one time she begged Joshua for about half an hour that he give her the last can of cream soda in the fridge, yet he wouldn’t relent no matter what.
But today he let you have one, no problem.
The rest of the day went pretty accordingly. You weren’t allowed in the basement because Joshua and Hansol were apparently watching ‘scary movies’ that weren’t suited to anyone younger than sixteen, even though Jennie assured you she’d already seen them and they were mild at best. You finished the can of cream soda, and you nearly had a heart attack when Jennie went to throw it in the trash.
“N-No! I, um, I’d like to keep it, actually.”
“Really?” Jennie sounded too surprised. “It’s just a can.”
“I’m—” quick, think up a reasonable lie that won’t mislead her into suspecting you only want the can because of her brother, “I’m collecting cans, like Elsie Bolger. She gets money back from them.”
“Oh, okay then,” Jennie shrugged, “it’s all yours.”
Because of that dumb lie you told Jennie, you were stuck with a hobby you didn’t even want over the summer, and a gigantic plastic bag lumped in the garage half-filled with tin. Your mom proposed that you start going on ‘neighbourhood walks’ to pick up any extra cans people might’ve throw into ditches or left at the parks, which was how Joshua drove past you at seven in the morning, on his way to baseball practice, catching a glimpse of you wandering through a slippery trench that you’d quite literally fallen into.
Great, you were now probably the biggest loser he knew.
The neighbourhood walks didn’t last too long though, as you came to realize there were a lot of disgusting, unsterile things that got thrown into ditches, besides coffee cups and soda cans.
Your safest bet was to ask the neighbours on your block, and by the end of July, you’d gotten a few people to start saving their cans for you. Additionally, Jennie offered to pitch in, and thus every Saturday you rode your bicycle to her house hoping that she’d remembered to save at least one can so your journey wasn’t futile.
Last week, you’d stopped by on a Sunday.
And not much could’ve really prepared you for that.
That morning, it wasn’t Jennie who answered the door, still dressed in her pyjamas with the little flamingos on them because she would sleep into lunch if she could—nope, it was Joshua. Shirtless Joshua. Shirtless, only dressed in sweatpants, with damp and mussed back hair Joshua. You couldn’t even whimper out one word. It was so obvious that you were trying not to let your curious, adolescent eyes roam that tanned torso of his like he was a dessert pamphlet. Your bike was resting against the garage—you could make a run for it.
“Jennie isn’t here,” Joshua said, “doctor’s appointment.”
“Oh,” you still weren’t looking at him, but at this pebble on their doormat, which was clearly very interesting, “I was supposed to come yesterday, but, uhm… never mind. I’ll just grab my—”
“You’re doing the can thing, right? Like, you’re collecting them to exchange at the corner store? I know about it.”
For some reason, your mind immediately lurched to that rainy morning about two weeks ago, when you were caked with mud and humidity from slipping around in that stupid ditch, rather than the far more logical answer of Jennie simply telling him you were collecting cans because they were siblings and lived together.
Joshua opened the door wider, “she has them in a bag somewhere. I can go look for it—uh, come in, if you want.”
Of course, sweet Joshua would never let you stand outside where it was slightly too windy and slightly too sunny and slightly too fragrant because of the lilac pots beside the front door. You definitely weren’t overthinking that gesture at all, and your mind was definitely working exactly as it should. So, you slipped off your sneakers and took a seat on the couch, waiting in complete, stifling silence as Joshua disappeared into the house. You got so nervous and fidgety that you rearranged the coasters on the coffee table and used the shiny edge of the fake fruit bowl to check your reflection.
Not long after that, Joshua came back to the living room.
“Hey, I’m sorry but I can’t find where she keeps that bag. I checked the garage and everything. You should phone her.”
“No, that’s alright. I’ll just come back next week.”
Honestly, you didn’t want this to be it. Gosh, you’d daydreamed so many different scenarios in which you were alone with Joshua, exactly what you’d say to him, how you’d laugh, and, oh—maybe you’d playfully bump his shoulder, or accidentally brush his hand, and the touch would create this insatiable, romantic spark between you and—all of those things seemed impossible.
As you bent down to re-tie your shoes, Joshua stopped you.
He then walked over to their fridge and pulled out a can.
“Cream soda,” the boy shrugged, “I mean, once you drink it, it’ll be empty and you’ll have a can for your… can thing.”
He tossed the soda to you, which you almost didn’t catch because it immediately slipped between your fingers, but somewhere along the struggle it managed safely into your hand.
“It’s cold,” you said, a very dumb observation to point out.
Joshua opened the front door. And then he smiled at you—just, a dazzling smile, so soft but kind of teasing and seraphic at the edges and made one-hundred percent worse by his lack of shirt.
“It was in the fridge, and fridges’ make things cold.”
The moment felt like it was too much. You were burning up, hardly even breathing as you slipped past him to hop outside and grab your bike off the garage door. That smile, those eyes, his voice, it was all you thought about during the ride home, feeling the sun kiss the back of your neck and imagining the warmth as Joshua.
You didn’t even use the can for your exchange.
Instead, you kept it beside the last one he’d given you.
15.
Unironically so, the day had just started and it was already shaping up to be one of the worst yet, even worse than the time you got stuck in that child’s swing at the park and lost your shorts trying to wriggle out of it. At least you could partially hide the water-lined eyes and trembling lip by stepping as far into your locker as possible, but that wasn’t going to save you from the bell.
That first physics test had kicked your ass.
Sure, you wasted last Saturday cleaning out and redesigning your entire room, and maybe you could have stayed home Monday night instead of going to the Laser Tag Center with Jennie, but you still studied. And you still got a whopping fifty-four percent. To make matters worse, this tumultuous feeling had been sitting in your abdomen since breakfast, a twisty type sensation, like someone was squeezing your insides using their fist. It made you sweaty hot, and then colder than ice, and at one point you swore something fucking trickled out of your body when you sneezed on the bus.
Great, just great.
Bad grades, possibly poisoned, holding back a meltdown—it would have been the complete trifecta of misfortune and general misery.
But it became more of a “quad-fecta” when you glanced down the hall.
Joshua was poised at his locker, talking to Hansol, with his arm lounged comfortably around Elsie Boulger’s waist, the autumn-haired sweetheart of his grade whom everyone only had wonderful things to say about. They were laughing, and Joshua suddenly nudged Elsie in closer against his side to pop a kiss on her cheek. You didn’t want to be jealous, because jealously felt awful, like something icky and slimy crawling around in your gut that you wanted to throw up. Jennie said that Elsie was cool, and inspirational (whatever that meant), and that she smelled of a juicy, clean citrus.
Maybe Jennie was in love with her too.
It seemed like the whole world was in love with her.
Or maybe it just felt like that because Joshua had been making an increasingly bigger impression on you as a person.
He sort of became your world.
When the bell to second period started clanging, you made a snap decision to skip and escape into the music room, which was always open and empty at that time anyways. You melted into the first chair you saw. The lights were off, and everything was pleasantly dark in a way that made you feel invisible. No one could hear you snivelling or see those thick blobs of tears on your cheeks, and it occurred to you that this room was a lot more enjoyable when there were no freshman screaming through their trombones.
But then you spotted a silhouette outside the door. Your first thought was that someone had squealed on you, and now a teacher had sought to find the juvenile foolish enough to skip Careers of all courses and send them straight to detention. God, what a shitty day.
Except… oh no, Joshua.
There was nothing you could do to hide. Was he better or worse than a teacher? You didn’t know. Neither had seen you cry, and like he’d even want to console you when you’d just shoved a tissue up your nose and tears were dribbling off your chin.
“…Uh, are you oka—”
“I’m fine,” you cut him off to save the awkward space.
Joshua tilted his head, clearly not believing you because the evidence was sitting right in front of him, pretty damning.
“Well, not to be rude, but I think that’s a lie. And—” he let the backpack slide off his shoulder, “you’re sitting in the dark. I suppose if I turned this light on, you’d want to rip my face off.”
Dabbing the crumpled tissue under your nose, you laughed half-heartedly. You were surprised he was even tolerating you.
“Something like that.”
“Can I sit next to you?”
A pulse of energy shot straight into your chest.
“Why? Don’t you have class?”
He snickered, “don’t you? This is my spare, and the only acoustic guitar in the whole school is sitting in here.”
“… I excused myself,” you tucked your knees close together, and tipped your head to the chair on your right, “you can sit there.”
This was abnormal. This was electric. This was… almost too good to be true. Why should Joshua want anything to do with the girl who probably annoyed him each time she was over at his house, taking up the couch and always giggling at the top of her lungs and drinking all his cream soda? You weren’t really friends, but it could be considered more than acquaintances—enough for Joshua to drop into the seat beside you and then proceed to edge closer.
Rubbing a palm underneath your eye, you heaved in a big breath and sighed out, “I failed my first physics test. I failed it.”
Joshua pulled one foot onto the edge of his chair to tie his shoe, and you watched him shove the loose ends down his ankle.
“Almost everyone fails that test,” he said, “no one really takes it seriously, no one studies, and about four people drop. Guaranteed.”
You swallowed. There was that obnoxious rush of heat again.
“If it makes you feel any better, I got a sixty.”
“Joshua—” your voice wobbled, another tear wetting your cheek, “I got a fifty-four. And you were probably way smarter than me!”
Despite his innocent intentions, that comment did nothing but take any ashes of, ‘it’s not so bad’ and blow them into a wispy scattered dust. Leaning over into your hands, an emotional torrent gushed through you, unlike anything you’d experienced before. It wasn’t doing you any good to keep sitting here. Maybe outside would be better. Some fresh air to get your endorphins buzzing.
Once you got up, so did Joshua.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he stumbled, “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”
“I know, I know. I’m just having a crappy day. I mean, obviously. Everything is all over the place and I would so rather be at home crying than here.”
Joshua nodded, his eyes seeming glittery and sympathetic.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you feel better. I thought having a little sister would make me good at that stuff, but Jennie is like a honey badger when she’s upset. No one can get near her.”
You laughed, and it cleared the weight in your throat. But, laughing also triggered that same trickling sensation you experienced earlier while sitting on the bus. And it wasn’t a little trickle, it felt like it was flowing and—what the hell, this? Of all fucking days, of all moments, your body decided now was the perfect time to get its first period. No wonder you were a mess with icy fingers and toes but a shiny sweat down your back. No wonder you couldn’t handle even the tiniest bit of pressure or stress without feeling like a being made from porcelain glass.
And why the hell did you decide to wear light blue jeans. They were in the laundry hamper and you still pulled them out because the black ones didn’t suit your top the way you wanted.
That moon-eyed look on your face was as good an indication as any something had happened, if the firmness that had planted itself into your body wasn’t already noticeable. Joshua chuckled a little, most likely confused by your comportment.
“What’s happening? Do you need me to—”
“This is…” you heaved through your teeth, “the worst…”
He tilted his head and pursed his bottom lip.
“Seriously, if you need to go home, or— if you need a ride or anything like that, I’m okay with it. Like I said, I’ve got a spare, so…”
Your gaze wandered back to his face, prompting Joshua to shift his weight from right foot to left as you stared almost through him, like he was a piece of plastic. Even if it was tempting, you couldn’t just whip out the door with that blood staining your pants, because the way your luck was going, someone would step right behind you and how could they not notice a gigantic red patch—Oh my god! There’s something wrong with this girl’s pants!—which would undoubtedly cue everyone rushing out to see you humiliatingly crumble.
You swallowed, fumbled with your fingers, only for Joshua to bite his lip.
“Did something else happen today?”
“Yeah,” you answered, sucking in sharply, “but, I’m not sure if I can… I just don’t want to—Joshua, I—I think I just got my period…”
He was quiet at first, and that small gap between his mouth pressed shut. You were even more rigid than before, almost quivering, and it was quickly dawning on you that maybe he didn’t want to hear about your body and how it was literally leaking blood.
“Oh, that’s it?” Joshua exhaled, almost seeming… relieved?
Were you hearing things correctly?
“I thought you were gonna like, confess to a crime or something,” the boy then rubbed his neck, laughing, “jeez, you were scaring me a bit—but, uh, okay, you’ve got your period, unexpectedly I’m guessing. Have you got any pads or tampons? Or spare cloths?”
“N-No, I—” your unstable emotions, they were spilling all over again and closing up your throat and thickening your voice, “I don’t have those. I-I don’t know what to do. It’s bleeding through.”
He flitted you a careful smile, passing his hand up and down your arm for a moment, “hey, it’s alright. Just relax. Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll grab Jennie from class? She always keeps stuff like that in her locker. Here—” Joshua then wriggled off the black windbreaker he was wearing, “tie this around your waist.”
You sniffled, biting the inside of your cheek before you accepted the jacket, still feeling uncertain despite his hospitality.
“Are you sure I can use this?”
Joshua was already picking up his knapsack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder while he nodded his compliance.
“Yeah, I can get it back later. I won’t be long, okay?”
“Okay.”
He flashed you another smile, and then slipped out the heavy door which closed with a metal squeal, narrowing the ray of light that had split across the tiles. You breathed out shakily, nose still somewhat runny and your eyes bleary, as you tied the windbreaker tight around your waist. That day was officially awful, you were certain of it, though Joshua had managed to make things a little less messy, and while it could have just been the influx of hormones twisting in your abdomen that influenced your thoughts, you were starting to really, really like him. More than what it was before.
This spark you had—it was growing.
It was turning into something much bigger than attraction.
You hauled the smooth blanket up to your chin, making no move to help as Jennie crouched by the system box underneath the television. She was trying to figure out something technical, which involved pushing random buttons and clicking her remote every time the screen flickered. It wasn’t like you knew the television any better than she did, so you settled back against the couch, throwing cheeze-it’s into the air and poking out your tongue to catch them.
“This is all Josh’s fault,” she grumbled, wiping her hands along her pants, “he always screws up the settings to play video games, and never bothers to switch anything back.”
“I thought your mom made him draw up an instruction card thingy on how to fix all that,” you answered, flicking another cheeze-it into the air, “don’t tell me you lost it already?”
“He was the one who lost it.”
“Okay, so let’s just ask him what to—”
Jennie held out the remote after tampering with the system box for the umpteenth time, and the television blipped, revealing the proper screen with the little sparkling logo. She nearly sent the remote flying from her hand when she hopped up triumphantly.
“Or, I’ll fix it,” Jennie smiled, jabbing a thumb at herself, “I’m clearly not the most tech-savvy person—and that’s probably why I kept hitting the applause sound affect during the funeral scene at our school’s last play—but I do know my way around some things… even if it took me…”
You checked your phone, “fifteen minutes?”
Tossing the remote onto the couch, Jennie laughed, and remembered to grab her bowl of party-mix off the floor (with everything but the baby breadsticks included because she always said they were most useless part of the snack). You were supposed to watch this movie for your English class, though you couldn’t even remember the name, something about a vendetta. However, before the introduction scene could even play, the door squeaked at the top of the stairs and Jennie immediately pressed pause, groaning.
Joshua bounced off the last step, rubbing his hair.
“Don’t give me that look,” he nagged, “I’m not down here to bother you, I’m just looking for our soccer ball.”
“Well, chop chop. We need to watch this movie ASAP.” Jennie said, craning her neck around to glare at Joshua as he rifled through some storage bins shoved near the basement corner.
“Yeah,” you agreed (not really, but only to back up Jennie), and stuck out your tongue, “you’re making a lotta noise, too.”
“I can’t be any quieter than this,” Joshua responded, taking off another storage lid to sort through the contents, “I still have all my notes from that movie, y’know? Not that I’d give them to you.”
“That’s why I didn’t bother asking,” Jennie retorted through a mouthful of party mix, “I jusfftt knew you’d be a dick about it.”
Finally, Joshua dug out his soccer ball.
“Does mom know you swear like that?” He smirked.
“Does mom know you lied about staying over at Hansol’s last Friday so you could actually meet Elsie at some stupid party?”
The boy stiffened, meanwhile Jennie gave him a falsely sweet grin, dropping another handful of snacks into her mouth.
“I literally payed you to keep quiet about that.”
“Oh, pfft—five bucks! Thanks Mr. Charity.”
You weren’t entirely sure if you were supposed to be hearing this conversation, though neither Jennie or Joshua seemed concerned about your presence. It’s not like you would tell, anyways, and you already knew Jennie had quite the fair share of secrets up her sleeve that she’d convinced Joshua to keep.
“This conversation is over,” Joshua stated with a smile, snapping the lid back onto the storage bin, “oh, and—” he then pointed his finger at you, “I know you won’t say anything, but pretend you didn’t hear about the party. Seriously. I’d be screwed.”
“Okay,” you gave him a reassuring nod, “I promise.”
Joshua positioned the soccer ball under his arm and ran upstairs, to which you heard him softly click the door shut. The moment he was gone, Jennie’s head slumped back into the couch.
“I sense that he’s got a dangerous influence on you.”
“He doesn’t,” you giggled, whacking Jennie harmlessly on her shoulder, “now, just start the movie before I fall asleep.”
“Fine,” the girl huffed, sticking out the remote and clicking resume, though you didn’t miss how her eyes remained on you for that extra breadth of a second, like she had questioned your answer.
You lied, of course. Joshua did have an influence on you.
But you didn’t think it was dangerous.
A few weeks later.
“Ow!”
Pulling the wooden spoon out from the pot, you shot a scornful look over your shoulder, realizing that it was Joshua who’d just bumped the top of your head with the ladle in his hand. You couldn’t help the harsh expression flickering into a wide smile.
“How’s the sauce? Is it almost done?” He asked impatiently, coming to stand beside you at the burner while breathing in the flavourful smells, wafting up and sizzling from the pot.
You sighed, shaking your head.
“It’s getting there, alright? I’m just stirring it for as long as Jennie told me to. She’s the one who knows this recipe.”
However, it seemed like Joshua wasn’t absorbing a word you’d said, rather he dipped his ladle into the sauce and stole a small amount to drink. You screeched at him, switching the spoon to your latter hand while the other just grazed his shoulder. He’d escaped to behind the kitchen island, continuing to blow at the thick sauce.
“No tasting until it’s done!” You laughed, wanting to sound as serious as possible, but utterly failing because it was Joshua.
“Too late,” the boy replied, licking at his index finger where he made a bit of a spill, “I already tasted it. Sucks to suck.”
Reaching out to the dial, you turned the heat down a little more until the sauce frothed a quiet, bubbling simmer. There was a towel next to the stove that you grabbed, using it to wipe a pretend smudge off your hands, though you lashed it across the island to nip Joshua on the chest, which had been your intent from the start.
“Well,” your arms folded, “since you betrayed my trust and tasted the sauce anyways, what do you think? Missing anything?”
Joshua leaned to the right, tossing the ladle into the sink.
“Don’t think so, but I’m also too hungry to care ‘n—hey, is anyone gonna start making the pasta?” He came to your side of the counter and poked at the rolling machine used to thin the sheets.
You leaned a palm into your cheek, “Jennie said she was gonna start, but then one of our friends rang her up, saying they desperately needed her notes for our English essay. She’s been upstairs for like, almost half an hour. D’you know how?”
He straightened his back, “how to make pasta? Uh…” he flicked the handle on the machine, watching it spin, “I haven’t done it in a while, but I don’t think it’s hard. We just need—” Joshua suddenly spun around, opening the fridge and then delving into another drawer, “eggs, some flour, salt, and, olive oil, I think.”
“Oh, so you’re going to make it?”
Joshua smiled as he organized the ingredients on the island and cuffed up his sleeves, “it’s not that I didn’t want to help. Jennie told me to stay out of the kitchen. But, she’s not here right now.”
Chuckling, your eyes danced after Joshua as he moved over to the sink, switching on the water and cleaning his hands.
“Why’s that? Are you secretly a fire hazard?”
“No, she said I’m a distraction,” he scoffed, using quoted fingers and heightening the sound of his voice to mimic his sister.
“Really? A distraction?”
You twisted your body to follow Joshua��s every movement, watching as he opened the door to a small broom closet in order to grab an apron hanging off a hook. He nodded his head.
“I find that hard to believe. Jennie’s pretty good at blocking you out, and, well, she’s had lots of practice at it.”
Joshua pursed his lips, blowing at some loose, black hairs that had shifted over his forehead. As he was tying the strings behind him, the boy glanced up, catching your gaze for a very brief, peculiar second before he was back at the island, measuring out the flour.
“Um, yeah…” he exhaled, “she said I’d be distracting you.”
At that, you froze. Even the dreamy smile that was constantly stretching wider and wider from one corner of your lip to the other had flattened, meanwhile Joshua was already concentrated on patting the flour into a bowl shape that would support the eggs. As if directly on cue, the sauce left to simmer in the pot changed from pleasant herbs and garlic to something a bit too crispy and… burnt.
“Shit,” you coughed under your breath, quickly removing the pot off the stove and giving the sauce a thorough stir.
“I think you’re the fire hazard,” Joshua softly laughed from behind, pushing and kneading the sticky clump in his hands.
As much as you hated admitting it, Jennie had been right.
You needed to get these feelings more under control.
Later in the evening, it was almost supper time. The ribs had just finished brazing in the oven, and the pasta that Joshua went through immense effort to make (as detailed by the speckles of flour on his cheeks and the hairband he borrowed from Jennie to keep his hair pushed back) had been strained and deliciously buttered up.
Joshua whizzed by you in the corridor, still dressed in the apron as though he were orchestrating his own restaurant.
“There’s a little something on your face!” You called out to him, each word clearly sung by a much too happy smile.
“I realize that!” He shouted from inside the washroom, and you heard the sound of water gushing into the sink.
“Oh—” their mom caught you in the hallway, one hand occupied by the sauce pot and the other with a bread plate, “I’m sure I just heard a knock at the door. Do you mind getting it, dear? This sauce is superbly warm and kind of burning me right now.”
“Yeah, sure thing. Please don’t drop it!” You giggled while rushing toward the main entrance, “I worked so hard on it!”
Jennie popped up from the basement, heaving hard and dragging an extra chair as she sighed, “y’mean, you stirred it.”
“Close enough.”
Honestly, you’d never been more excited to eat. When you first began staying the night at Jennie’s house, family dinners terrified you, and no one could get you to speak more than a few words (which basically consisted of saying yes or no to seconds or dessert). But Jennie had been your best friend for a long time now, and her family seemed to adore you like a daughter. Yet, the second you’d pulled open the front door, all that energy and luminance drained from your body so quickly it was almost disorienting.
You were standing face to face with Elsie Bolger. She practically beamed upon greeting you, and presented a glass bowl that was sealed with a plastic film. Inside, you were sure there was strawberries and sliced-up bits of yellow cake.
“Elsie?!” Jennie poked her head around the corner, “oh my gosh! I totally forgot you were coming! I’m such an idiot. I’ll get another chair!”
“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” Elsie assured, “I brought something for you guys, it’s a dessert my mom makes.”
At this point, everyone except for Joshua had filed into the main living area. Jennie’s father took her jacket while their mother accepted the bowl. For some reason, Jennie handed Elsie a fork.
“That’s the special fork,” she said, “the last prong sticks out weird. I think it’s finally your time to use our most sacred utensil.”
God, that stupid fork—you briefly recalled the memory of Jennie almost squashing Joshua down onto the floor a few years ago, simply because he’d managed to swipe it before her.
“You used it last time!”
“That didn’t count!”
“What do y’mean it didn’t count?!”
“Just give me the fork, Jennifer!”
“Ow! Mooommmm! Joshua just punched me in the boob!”
“No I didn’t—my hand—you—you’re such a liar! Mom, she’s lying!”
Jennie actually had lied, though she believed it was a justified lie considering her brother had just called her Jennifer, which was a bridge no one should cross. You were glad that era was over and done with.
“Uh, thanks, Jennie,” Elsie smiled, ruffling the girl’s hair, “and, as I was saying about the dessert—it’s like a strawberry shortcake thing. It has strawberries of course,” she paused to laugh nervously, “angel food cake, and this homemade custard.”
“It looks so freakin’ good,” Jennie salivated.
Her mother lit up in an appreciative smile, “that’s wonderful, thank you so much. Joshua’s just cleaning up—he’ll be out soon!”
“Oh, perfect,” Elsie stuttered a sigh of relief, “I’m ready to eat.”
In that moment, you weren’t sure what you despised more—the half of yourself that wished Elsie had never showed up, or the crushing amount of internal guilt that felt like it was going to destroy you for being so… jealous. Elsie was clearly nervous, and sweeter than sugar, and there was no plausible reason to treat her coldly.
“Is this your first dinner?” You asked her on everyone’s way to the dining room.
“My second,” she said thickly, “I’m not very good at this stuff.”
“It’s okay. Jennie and I will try to steal all the questions, so you can just relax and eat. It’s gonna be really tasty, I promise.”
She looked at you gratefully, “that would be amazing.”
It wasn’t long until Joshua entered the dining room before everyone settled down to pass out plates. You didn’t want to stare, but at the same time, you were itching to watch as Joshua rested his arm around Elsie’s waist and pulled her in for a light kiss as well as a whisper, probably something to ease her nerves. He hadn’t taken off Jennie’s hairband yet, to which Elsie pinched his cheek.
“I like this on you,” she cooed, “it lets us see that forehead.”
“Ah, it’s blinding!” Jennie teased, using her placemat to cover her eyes, “dear god, it’s been ages since it’s seen the daylight.”
However, Joshua pulled it out, giving his head a shake.
“I only wore it when I was making the pasta.”
Elsie raised a brow, her smile tiny but clearly impressed, “oh, you made something? Now I’m even more excited to eat.”
Joshua flushed, and suddenly, he was pointing at you.
“She made the sauce—”
“Ahem,” Jennie coughed into her fist, “she stirred the sauce.”
“Which has to be the most important part,” Joshua added, pulling out Elsie’s seat before taking his own, “critical, in fact.”
“Sorry,” you then whispered to Jennie, who gave your hand a gentle slap under the table as she shook her head lightheartedly.
Dinner went by in a flash—mostly because you hunkered down into the plate and gobbled everything like some neanderthal who’d been introduced to food for the first time. The sooner you finished, the sooner you could escape the table, as well as all the little laughs and sentimental gazes passed between Joshua and Elsie. Her dessert was delicious, but you ate that quickly too, crunching your hand fiercely around the napkin on your lap when Elsie grabbed Joshua’s face to swipe some custard off his lips. Clearing your plate before everyone else was somewhat awkward, though it gave you an excuse to wash up alone in the kitchen.
Afterward, you and Jennie went into her room. The girl collapsed onto her bed with a gigantic huff, groaning in delight about how stuffed she was as she stretched into a starfish. You took a seat at her desk chair, fiddling with some coloured pencils, trying to ignore the laugh you just heard echo from Joshua’s room, followed by a yelp that seemed to be abruptly silenced in the middle. Jennie shoved herself up.
“We can go the basement if y’want,” she offered, “that way we don’t have to hear their dumb playfighting. We can watch a movie. Or if you don’t want to do that, we can take out my paint set and do those Mandala rocks. My mom said she really wants more for the back porch.”
You didn’t respond right away, instead rolling a sky-blue pencil under your palm until it slipped out onto the floor.
“How serious do you think they are?”
Jennie scrunched her nose, “what?”
“I mean your brother, and Elsie,” you winced, sensing how dramatically your stomach had bloated when you bent down to pick up the pencil, “does it seem like they’re super serious?”
“Serious how? Like, I-love-you serious? That’s the only serious I know. Unless you’re asking if they… if they like—if they’re—y’know, doing the thing. Because I have no idea and I really don’t want to know—”
“Never mind—stupid question. Forget I asked.”
Bringing a palm up to your chin, your eyes fluttered to Jennie’s windowsill, decorated with an assortment of different rocks she’d been collecting from her trips to the science museum—pink, sparkly granites that looked like hardened sugar and the tiniest angelite stones, which were an ashy sort of blue. Joshua once told you they were candy and tried to get you to bite one (which you might have done if Jennie didn’t burst in). Then, the watercolour paintings she’d taped over the glass. Your favourite was the butterfly with holographic glitter wings. It stained her floor in an opal tint whenever the sun shone through. Joshua always hated it, because he said he found sparkles all over the house for weeks after she’d finished, even in his backpack and on his pillow.
Jennie rubbed her neck, her face soft and sleepy.
“Can you be honest? I have to ask something.”
Swivelling in the chair, your toes curled, and you nodded.
“Do you like J—”
At random, Joshua threw open the door and came into the bedroom.
“Jesus Chr-crickets! Gosh, can you knock?!” Jennie shouted, shuffling up hurriedly on the forest colours of her bedsheets.
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Not my fault you didn’t hear it.”
Jennie lopped her head back and groaned.
“You’re so—you’re just so—,” she crumpled her hands together as though she were imagining her brother’s head as a squishy grape, “—bleck! I don’t even have the words. What do you want, anyways?”
Twisting in the chair, you noticed Joshua holding onto a cream soda and a squishy packet of blue raspberry juice that he tossed to his sister. You couldn’t tell if it was obvious or if you’d been intentionally searching for anything odd, but his hair seemed messier, with strands flicked out all over his head, and you were certain Joshua was hiding something when he pulled at the collar of his shirt.
“Mom just wanted me to bring you guys drinks.”
Jennie jammed the straw into her juice.
“Was this the last blue raspberry?”
“I think so—don’t even think about taking the cherry.”
“Woah, I’m not!” Jennie lifted her hand defensively. “Slow your roll, idiot. The cherry tastes like medicine, anyways. You can have it.”
He merely furrowed his brow at the girl before turning to you, sticking out the can of cream soda. Jennie sunk into her pillow with her head propped up, sipping loudly at her juice and narrowing her eyes.
“How come she gets your stupid cream soda? Where’s my cream soda privileges? I’m your blood. I bet you don’t even let Elsie have any.”
Joshua looked like he might snap, “can you shut—”
“It’s okay,” you interrupted, “I’m not thirsty.”
If you were anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a big, dramatic deal to decline wanting a soda, but you knew it would definitely seem questionable and possibly hostile and cultivate the weirdest tension because you always accepted it whenever Joshua offered. Even Jennie was shocked, lifting herself off the pillow to stare at you in confusion, meanwhile Joshua had actually flinched, his head leaning to the side limply as though you’d just uttered some alien dialect.
You gave him a tight-lipped smile.
“Elsie still collects for the recyclable can drive, right? You should give it to her. I can always come down later and get a water.”
Joshua breathed out sharply through his nose.
“I’ll just put it back in the fridge,” he said, almost stuttering in his movement when he turned around, trying to compute the situation.
As soon as the door closed, Jennie cackled.
“Did you break him or something?”
16.
You whacked the tip of your shoe into a pebble, struggling to track its explosive path down the sidewalk until you decided it was lost for good. But now you wanted something else to kick. Chiefly because you were frustrated. And moody. And hating the supposedly celebratory milestone that was turning sixteen. You didn’t exactly know where you stood in all the changes. Everyone around you seemed to be morphing akin to tree leaves in the midst of autumn, though you felt somewhat like a crinkled, dry leaf—one that always got stepped on just to hear the crack.
And maybe that was normal.
Maybe everyone was experiencing the same sentiments beneath all their new personalities. Except, you didn’t know who to approach or how to express this. Jennie had made friends with these two girls from her health class, and it wasn’t like she’d forgot about you, but there was something to note about how she was suddenly into white-gel tips and miniskirts and drinking an almost obsessive amount of caffeine when she used to express how much she hated all of those things combined.
If you were to be completely candour, you missed how she was before. Jennie loved critiquing movies and painting in watercolour and could never keep a polished manicure because she loved turning up rocks or bark to catch beetles and frogs. You missed that girl so much.
But, had you changed too? Without being conscience of it?
Folding your arms tightly, you were on the cusp of punting another rock into the sun itself when a silver car pulled in close to the curb, maintaining a barely-there pace to keep in tune with your walking.
The passenger window rolled down.
“Hey!” He called from inside, stretching his neck over while flittering his focus between you and the road, “want a ride home?”
Even worse—you still hadn’t gotten over Joshua. He was eighteen now, less gawky, more piercings, a voice that was smoother than butter, but the same pair of eyes that were deep and calm and undeniably heart aching. His relationship with Elsie was rather intact. You saw them kiss every morning before slipping into your calculus class, and it was only yesterday that you’d been seated behind them during the school’s monthly assembly, a bitter taste in your mouth whenever she leaned into his side to whisper or giggle. He even slipped her an earbud so they could listen to his music instead of the principal’s boring, monotone speech.
When you didn’t respond to him, Joshua cleared his throat.
“Just—I know you don’t always take the bus, and Jennie went home with Marina, and—” his eyes shot back to the road, narrowly avoiding a pothole before he straightened the car again, “um, as I was saying, I can drop you off at home. I don’t have guitar today.”
You kept nibbling a sore patch on your bottom lip, trying inconceivably hard to pretend he wasn’t there. It was for his own good, honestly. One slip-up and your anger would pull you under.
He continued steering the wheel with one hand, the other resting almost irritably against the top of his backward baseball cap. He sighed.
“Okay, I can understand ignoring Jennie, but what did I do?”
Still, nothing.
“You’re making me look like an idiot.”
That one almost got you to smile.
“Or some weirdo who’s trying to seduce you into his car. Please, I’ve gotten the silent treatment before, and it fucking sucks. Especially when I don’t know what I did. If you don’t want a ride then—”
You finally slapped your fingers onto the handle and pulled the door open with a gigantic huff, to which Joshua stopped the car. He watched you collapse into the passenger seat, maneuvering your bag to your lap while you pressed your shoes to his dashboard. Neither of you uttered a word as he steered away from the curb. While Joshua allowed the wheel glide under his palm, he shot you a speculative glance through the rear-view mirror, teeth sunk into his lip like he was contemplating.
But then a minute or so passed, with the boy drumming his hands restlessly at the stop light, and you knew he’d ask regardless.
“Did you have a bad day?”
The silence stretched itself thinner.
“Look, that’s understandable. I can get not wanting to talk as well. I’m only being annoying ‘cause I care, actually.”
Your head tilted in the direction of the window.
“I know I’m not the first person you’d run to with all your problems, so I won’t ask you to spill them. But I’m not completely useless when it comes to advice n’ all that. I’ve gotten way better at it.”
He eased his foot over the gas pedal as the light changed. And you heard him chuckle before heaving a sigh of disbelief.
“I guess I’m not gonna get one word out—”
“You know what I don’t get?” Slipping your shoes off the dashboard, you shuffled up in the chair and rolled the window further down, feeling a gentle breeze massage the edges of your face, “I don’t get why everyone is being so fucking insufferable. Like, everyone. Even my teachers. I’m on the verge of failing calculus right now, just because Mrs. Panek is so awful at teaching. She boasts about her low class averages like it’s something to be proud of. She only pays attention to the geniuses, thinks everyone else isn’t trying hard enough.
Oh, and it makes me so mad whenever Jennie blows me off to hang out with Marina. Like, it was literally just a few months ago when she told me she loves laser tag, but suddenly it’s not her anymore, and now she’d rather fucking blaze with Marina in the washroom before class and talk about how hot her art teacher is. I mean, she used to like slasher films and stupid crystals and weird, nerdy science-y stuff which makes me think Marina’s brainwashed her. And if I have to see that one couple shove their tongues down each other’s throats on the stairway right outside the library one more time—I’m gonna fucking lose it! You didn’t just get your hormones yesterday! I’m so sick of—of everyone!
But then I’m confused too. About myself. It’s been fifty-one days since my last period. I was so scared, I bought a pregnancy test, even though I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Can you believe that? And I can’t even change comfortably in the locker room now since some girl made fun of the fact that my bra is like—it basically looks like a middle-aged woman’s bra, but I just wear them because of comfortability, y’know? But the funny thing was, that got to me, so I bought a new bra, and it’s so stupidly itchy. I’m wearing it right now and my chest feels like it’s gonna burn to bits if I scratch it again—”
You slipped a hand up the back of your shirt, undoing the clasp to the undergarment, which you squirmed off and threw out the window.
Sucking in a long, quivering breath, you felt the heat tingle across your face and melt your cheeks. With an elbow digging into the car, you rubbed two fingers against your temple, which was now pounding terribly as though someone had clocked it using their fist. A salty taste hit your tongue, and you realized that a few tears had trickled down to your jaw during the rant—that Joshua had pulled his car into the empty lot just beside the lake, overlooking the stillness of the water.
And that’s when you tightened every bone in your body, twisting your head around painfully slow to gauge his expression.
But he didn’t appear anything other than relaxed.
“W-What’s wrong w’you?” Came your very slurred, clogged-with-emotion question. “You should be telling me to get out.”
Joshua huffed, furrowing his brow.
“You’re asking me to punish you for feeling like a teenager?” He pulled up his knee, extending his elbow across it. “Why the hell would I do that? You clearly had some stuff building up.”
“I basically cursed out your sister. And I just threw my own bra out the window—there’s no way you should be calm about this. ”
He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.
“She’s not exempt from criticism. Just because she’s your best friend and my sister, doesn’t mean we have to like her all the time. And, yeah, can’t say I was expecting that. But now you’re not itchy and uncomfortable and shit, right? I’d probably do the same.”
Turning back to the window, you sought for the breeze and sunshine, closing your eyes wetly and inhaling deep. Joshua was right, you were merely human, and sometimes things irritated you. And like anybody else, you let them accumulate and fester and take up space in your chest where you were supposed to feel weightless.
“Well…” you exhaled, flicking the zipper on your backpack, “at least I’m not pregnant. I really thought, maybe I was… I dunno.”
Joshua groaned as he stretched an elbow behind his head.
“It’s probably stress. You should talk to your doctor.”
“I really just feel like falling into a hole, if I’m honest.”
He smiled at you, “want to do something?”
“Like what?” You responded tentatively.
Without bothering to elaborate, Joshua kicked open his door and whipped it shut before proceeding to your side of the car. He folded his arms on the open window, causing you to move back ever so slightly because he didn’t seem to care about how closely he leaned forward—you just knew there was a dangerous spike in your heartbeat when his gaze ensnared your own, almost pulling you into his warmth like a riptide.
“Get out,” he said, smirking, “and I’ll show you.”
And that’s when you remembered: Joshua was oddly exceptional at skipping stones. You followed him down to the rocky shoreline, in which he politely extended his hand for you to grab when you nearly face-planted your way to the water instead. He instructed you to start collecting stones that were tiny, flat, and smooth, which you organized into a pile beside your shoe. At first, you let Joshua demonstrate, closely monitoring his stance whenever his wrist sharply flicked and the stone would practically bounce its way across the calm sheets of water, leaving the neatest ripples to disrupt the surface, almost hypnotic.
“I’m not going to be good at this,” you told him.
He shook his head.
“Not about being good or bad. It’s just, a mindless task, something to relax you. Or, think of the rocks as your… problems, or—yeah, think of them as all these little irritations you just expressed to me, and each time you throw a rock, you’re getting rid of some stress.”
You breathed out hopelessly, wearing a flustered smile.
“Fine. Who knew you were so full of wisdom?”
“Wisdom is one of my many attributes,” Joshua grinned, sending another rock to dance across the water, “as you’re just understanding.”
Picking up a round, purplish stone, you flipped it between your fingers, getting a feel for its weight and texture.
“Well, doesn’t that also mean you’re getting older?”
“Nah, I think I’ll stay forever young. Isn’t that a super power?”
“No, that’s like flight and stuff. Invisibility. Heat vision—”
“Oh!” He snapped his fingers at you, “heat vision—I want that.”
“Why?”
“Because you can like, burn stuff with your eyeballs. It’s in the name. I’m guessing you didn’t watch a lot of cartoons.”
“No, I did,” you laughed, “it’s just that, heat vision isn’t usually what people would pick. Like, it’s not the first thing in their minds, y’know?”
“Okay. So then tell me what you’d want.”
“Um... flighhh—no! Actually, telekinesis.”
“Oh, so mind-reading?”
“Why’d you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“You said it so disappointedly.”
“No, I didn—you’re just wasting time so you don’t have to skip that rock in your hand. It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Try it, at least.”
Of course, you weren’t expecting much from your first throw. It vanished straight through the surface in a depressing plonk. You weren’t sure if he was mocking you, but Joshua tossed his rock next, accomplishing three perfect skips before it bubbled under the water. He retreated a few steps back, rolling up his sleeves and scanning the shore for another suitable rock. Your eyes drifted after the boy like they were attached by a lure. Everything he did felt necessary and gentle.
“What if I can’t get it to skip even once?” You complained.
The next attempt didn’t fare any better, and served to prove your point. That’s when Joshua decided to hand you his next rock.
“I can show you again,” he offered.
You broke into laughter, “I’m standing exactly like you stood!”
“No, I’ll guide you, is what I mean.”
At first, you were still a little hazy on what he intended to do, but then you immediately understood the very second Joshua moved behind you, and every single nerve in your body had positively lit up like the flashing lights on a pinball machine. For some embarrassing reason, you couldn’t calm down no matter how slowly you breathed, and this visible shudder wracked down your spine as Joshua pressed himself against you and slid his fingers to your wrist. His touch was like silk. His voice beside your ear was warm and delicate and you were burning ash. You didn’t process a word he’d softly spoken. You breathed in mint and aftershave.
In fact, when he helped to guide the angle of your wrist and the stone made one very prominent hop across the river, you hardly noticed.
Because then Joshua had squeezed your waist with both his hands, giving you an excited, innocent shake. For you, your world nearly went black. It was merely a teaspoon of what it could be like to have a relationship with him, and it was intoxicating you dauntingly fast.
“—told you it wasn’t that hard!”
He was away from your backside, already picking some more stones into his palm when you caught the end of his exclamation.
“W-Well, you helped…”
Dammit—you sounded so stupidly breathless—
“Just do as I showed you, n’ you’ll be stress free in no time.”
But little did he know, you’d already forgotten all about that wild rant in the car. Now, your mind couldn’t conjure up any sort of thought other than what it would be like to know Joshua the way Elsie did—to whisper in his ear and kiss the edges of his kitten mouth and nuzzle your head into his shoulder while you listened to his music. To constantly breathe in his scent and feel his hands anywhere you desired. He mumbled something else to you, though you didn’t quite catch it.
You were floating far too high.
Rather than home, Joshua drove you back to his house. He’d told you his parents were going to be out late for a business dinner and you already knew Jennie was staying the night at Marina’s—not that one single part of you cared. Spending time with him was better than heating up some artificial, frozen dinner in the microwave while you waited in tears for your mom to return from her placement in the city.
Joshua toasted a sandwich for you, and you observed him with adoring eyes as he busied himself about the kitchen, washing and slicing the ingredients. He set the plate down in front of you, then filled up a glass with some juice.
“No cream soda today,” he frowned, reading the large bottle of juice, “Ocean Spray’s the special…. uh, Very Berry or something like that, with no artificial flavours or colours.”
“You’re such a restauranteur,” you laughed, forcibly stopping your feet from swinging under the island like a giddy child waiting for their ice cream sundae. He excited you in ways that should be magic.
He flipped the dish towel over his shoulder and winked.
“I want all these compliments going into my tip, ma’am.”
Joshua settled with leftovers from the fridge. Neither of you really spoke while eating, but there was no pressure in the air that suggested you might need to—it was cool and quiet. The boy flicked through a few texts on his phone meanwhile you slumped back into the chair with a satisfied puff, one hand rubbing along your shoulder blade.
“Are you also a massage therapist by any chance?” You whined. “I have a knot like, right around here, and I can’t get it at all.”
He slurped some noodles into his mouth that had been hanging from his chopsticks, and swallowed with a peculiar smirk.
“Pushing your luck just a bit, aren’t you?”
You felt an invisible jab against your stomach.
“I am?”
But the boy just huffed, shaking his head.
And you that’s when you realized the jab against your stomach had actually been fear. Joshua had a girlfriend. Joshua was in a happy relationship, and just because he’d kindly comforted you didn’t mean it was deemed suitable to edge the situation beyond that. In that moment, you’d shrunk in shame. It had just been so… reassuring, and validating, to pretend this boy could be more than just the brother of your best friend who only looked out for you because it felt like an obligation.
You were about to apologize when Joshua beat you to speaking.
“D’you wanna go my room?” He asked.
Hardly able to breathe, you uttered out a very quiet okay.
Joshua didn’t close his door all the way, instead leaving it about a quarter open. You took a seat at his desk chair, hands folded in your lap.
His room hadn’t changed much over the years—the walls were still the same dark grey, there were more medals hanging above his bedframe and he’d taped up a few new posters, but he’d kept the lava lamp and his acrylic cube of the solar system. Teeth rubbed over your bottom lip as you watched Joshua pick his acoustic guitar off its stand in the corner. He returned to his bed, propping one leg on the edge.
“This is my favourite one to play,” Joshua said, plucking a few strings, the sound which resulted softly tuned and as pleasant as birdsong, “the wood’s Nordic cherry. It’s such a deep and rich colour, don’t y’think? I had the lacquer redone a few days ago.”
“It’s really pretty,” you agreed, keeping your feet on the floor.
He was tying together a song, swaying his body back and forth to match the gentle nature of each chord. There had been a number of school assemblies where they asked Joshua to play the guitar, mostly to accompany the choir or the band. You always thought he was the best part, even if you had to watch him from between heads and shoulders.
You were lucky enough to sit at the front one time. He’d frequently whisper to the percussion player whenever the principal was speaking (usually Hansol, who was either awkwardly holding his symbols or maracas or whatever instrument the conductor trusted him with), leaning over his guitar with his earbuds dangling out from under his collar. It had intrigued you to know what they were saying. And then there was the way he’d chuckle quietly to himself afterward, licking his lips and proceeding to put on a bored face as his eyes swept into the crowd. You assumed he must have been looking for Elsie.
“What d’you think of the melody?” Joshua asked.
Clearing your throat, you stated simply, “calm.”
“Right? I thought it would be nice to play something like this.”
You didn’t say anything more, but glanced down into your lap with a smile that was imploring to burst at the seams. It brought you to wonder why Joshua did the things he did for you—give you rides home when it would’ve been easier to breeze right by, submit his favourite drink again and again because there was something about the way you glowed when you had a cream soda in your hand. Lend you nothing but normalcy at times where you or your body felt nothing but normal, listening to all your quarrels about the confusion of growing up, feeding you dinner and reminding you of all the ways there was still tenderness and compassion waiting to smooth the soul of its roughness.
Tapping your ankles together, you mumbled his name.
Joshua lifted his hand from the guitar.
“I can’t hear you if you’re gonna whisper,” he said before slapping the spot beside him, “come here, right next to me. It’s fine.”
And so you rose up cautiously from the chair and took your place on his bed, sitting atop your hands to stop their apparent fidgeting. He strummed his guitar once, almost like a prelude to your demure smile.
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
Joshua looked at you, raising his brow.
You shifted again, sucking in a breath, “like, for tolerating me today, even when I was being kind of an asshole. I guess I just needed someone to talk to but I didn’t know who. It’s just—I feel like I can talk to you, I guess. Even though I probably overshared and said a lot of things I shouldn’t’ve said, especially about myself…” you chewed into your cheek, angling an embarrassed glance toward the floor, “so, I’m sorry about that, but I’m glad you listened to me anyways. Really, thank you.”
He watched you for a moment with his delicate eyes, until he decided to remove the guitar from his lap, leaning it against the bed. His thigh pressed slightly into yours and you tried not to squeak.
“You can come to me, y’know?” he said softly, folding his arms low across his chest, “you’re not some stranger. And I’m also not a judgemental jerk, so if you have to be a bit dramatic, I don’t care.”
A small huff of laughter left your chest, and you nodded to show how much you appreciated the sentiment, because words just wouldn’t perform the right justice. Closing your knees together, your brow stiffened, and you thought it was a good time to ask the question.
“D’you think that I… that I’m different? From when you first remember me? Or that I’ve changed a lot?”
“Of course you have,” Joshua answered so obviously that you cocked your head back and nearly bulged your eyes out at him, “when I first met you, you wouldn’t even look at me, or speak, really.”
“Can you blame me for that?”
“No,” Joshua chuckled, “I know you were shy. Most of Jennie’s friends were like that. But if you’re worried on whether or not you’re seeming fake, or coming across as an asshole for thinking Jennie switched up on you—whatever it is that you’re wondering—it’s okay. It’s fine. You’re not doing anything wrong. You’ll probably meet different people and someone will say you changed, too. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, just about everyone’s thinking the same things.”
You swallowed, heavy and bitter.
“What if—what if Jennie like, forgets about me?”
Joshua shrugged, “I can tell you confidently that won’t happen. She’s stubborn. Just give her time. She probably feels pressure to make it seem like she’s maturing by doing what feels grown to her. I promise she won’t forget about you,” he smiled, “you’re not someone people forget.”
And your whole body seized up with laughter.
“Please forget that I threw my bra out your car window.”
He grinned at you, splaying his arms behind him and nudging his knee against yours. A surge of heat throbbed throughout your face.
“I said I don’t judge. We can always go back and get it.”
“Nope, no way,” you sighed, “I’ll stick to my middle-aged woman undergarments. But it is an unfortunate fifty bucks down the drain.”
“Seems like you’ve got it all figured out,” Joshua said.
“Oh, and—is there a chance you cannot mention any of this to Jennie? Like, even the fact I was here? Is that okay?”
The boy nodded his agreement, “yeah, ‘course.”
It’s not that you wanted to start keeping secrets. But today had been important, and special, and sometimes it felt necessary to keep such moments between you and whoever else was concerned. A day geared to end horribly had turned into a memory so perfect you wanted to encase it in amber, take it into your dreams even, and preserve it until the end of infinity. Maybe you meant more to Joshua than you initially thought.
You stood at your locker, wriggling in the textbook that you’d nearly forgotten in the geology classroom. The lunch bell was going to ring any moment now, though your teacher had wrapped up the lesson early and dismissed everyone with very little homework (which you were most likely going to procrastinate because the newest drama you’d picked up definitely wasn’t going to watch itself). Just as you were about to close the door, you noticed Jennie walking down the hall, thumbs tapping a flurry on her phone while she chewed something that was undeniably a stick of Double Bubble. You panicked, and nearly sank into the locker.
But she strutted right past you, not even glancing up once or forcing a greeting under her breath, and you truthfully couldn’t decipher if she hadn’t noticed you or was clinging to her phone as a scapegoat.
Not that you wanted it to be either of those things—your relationship was already wearing thinner by the day, and you always wondered which interaction between you two might end up as the last.
Jennie stopped at her locker down the hall, seemingly typing out a few more texts before she finally tore her gaze from her phone and nudged the door wide open with her foot (she always forgot her combinations), beginning to rifle around inside. And for a moment, you weighed the options of approaching her. She looked especially gorgeous today, with her long midnight hair in loose curls, almost falling to the belt that wrapped around her white-buckle skirt—you were still adjusting to her in such attire. For the five years you’d known her, she was always wearing knee-length shorts and Joshua’s plethora of old soccer jerseys.
It felt unnecessary, practically performing deep breathing exercises at your locker just to ruminate a conversation with the girl who was supposedly your best friend. You decided to give it a shot.
No harm, no foul, right?
“Hey Jennie,” you said, clutching your hands awkwardly.
She tossed an orange folder to the top shelf of her locker, her eyes remaining forward as she replied, “I don’t know where Joshua is.”
Visibly, your entire body stuttered, like a printer trying to force out its last bits of ink. Without hardly any breath, you stood there stiffly.
“I’m not, uh, I wasn’t looking for him,” it came out sounding like a question, “I thought I’d ask you about our geology homework.”
“Oh. What about it?”
She’d pulled out a small tube of lip gloss, quickly running the applicator across her mouth before stuffing it back into her bag. You struggled to comprise a response, watching the girl readjust her hair in the magnetized mirror, hardly paying you a lick of attention. It felt like a slap in the face. You couldn’t help touching your own burnt cheek.
“Well, I—”
The lunch bell rang, and almost instantly, the halls gushed with students, the static of everyone talking at once remarkably loud. Before you could inch out another word, Jennie had slammed her locker door shut, swinging a black lunchbox over her shoulder.
“Text me about it,” Jennie said, already beginning to walk away and disappear into the crowd, “I’m going to see Marina right now.”
No—it wasn’t just a slap, it was a brutal, fist-flat punch.
You didn’t really know what to do, frozen in place until the tenth grader with the locker right beside Jennie’s came trudging up and barely muttered an ‘excuse me’ before grabbing at their lock.
During lunch, it was usually less hectic on the second floor, so you grabbed your plastic-wrapped sandwich and headed upstairs, trying inconceivably hard to ignore the trademark couple who were too busy devouring each other’s tongues and groping. You went back to the geology classroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and so you took a seat at first counter on the left while bracing through the overbearing amount of mayonnaise your mother had slathered across the bread.
When the door creaked, there was an electric burst in your chest, thinking it could be Jennie who’d finally come to decide that hanging out with the purple-haired, face-studded Marina wasn’t as interesting as you (even though you assumed it was probably better—she had a pet tarantula for god’s sake, and her own car). But you definitely weren’t disappointed to realize Joshua had entered the geology room instead, shouting a goodbye to Hansol before the door heaved shut.
You didn’t want to smile so eagerly, fearing that it might weird him out, though you were helpless to stop the automatic stretch which always appeared at the sight of him.
Turning around on the stool, your eyes fluttered.
“What’re you doing in here?”
He paused, scanning the classroom almost frantically.
“I forgot my pencil,” Joshua answered, approaching a desk and picking one up that clearly wasn’t his, about as short as his pinky.
“Yeah, right.”
“I have my physics in here, first period.”
You folded your legs and smirked, “but you don’t even sit there.”
“How would you know that?”
Tilting your shoulder to the right, you directed Joshua to the black surface of the workbench, where his name was poorly etched.
“Okay—I didn’t do that,” he laughed, “it was Hansol, with a pair of scissors, and I literally begged him not too. He didn’t care, obviously.”
You squirmed back around on the stool.
“Right, and that’s not a random pencil someone just forgot?”
“No, not at all… that, and I might’ve seen you slip in here before I walked Elsie to her Envirothon meeting. But make no mistake. I didn’t come back here for you.” He was acting fidgety as he said it, and though the room was dark, you wanted to believe he’d blushed.
Nonetheless, Joshua slid onto the stool beside you, his fingers attempting to untangle the wire earbuds he’d just pulled from under his collar. You watched dotingly while he struggled, only to surprise the boy as you pulled your seat closer and batted his hands away.
“Let me, since you’re lacking the dexterity for this.”
He huffed, leaning his head to the side, his fawn eyes bouncing to every corner of the room as though looking directly at you was a sin. But once you’d loosened all the knots, Joshua seemed to relax.
“So,” you edged back on the stool, “are you excited?”
Joshua scratched his ear. “Excited for what?”
“You graduate this year, dummy. Are you not excited?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess I am. I made some applications a few weeks ago, and I already heard back from one. It’s not my ideal choice, though.”
Leaning your elbows onto the table and squishing your cheeks between each palm, you exhaled a big breath.
“You’ve got good grades and all that. I wouldn’t worry.”
“Mm.”
“What about Elsie? Didn’t she want to go far away?”
Joshua’s adam’s apple pointed sharp against his throat.
“Um, she’s not sure yet. We haven’t discussed it much. She said, like, if I moved really far, she’d figure it out and come with me.”
Your eyes popped wide, and you tried to dim your surprise.
“Oh, wow. She must really like you—I mean, that’s obvious. You guys are dating after all. For a while now, I guess. Over a year.”
“Yeah.”
As Joshua thrummed his knuckles a few times on the table, you sensed he wasn’t exactly keening to examine the subject, not to mention the way his voice had thickened and the rustling of his knee was a bold spelling he was uncomfortable. It was nothing to take personal, yet that didn’t stop the little fissure which struck somewhere deep in your heart and made the air harder to breathe. Joshua had said you could come to him—you merely wanted him to know that he could trust you, too.
Sitting in closer against the table, you smiled at him.
“I may be a bit younger, but I can still give advice.”
Joshua furrowed his brow playfully.
“What d’you mean by that?”
It was surprisingly difficult to push the words past your teeth, almost like your body was issuing a mechanism to stop yourself from saying anything you might regret, anything that might scare him, or nudge him to develop the inkling you were beyond interested in him.
“I want you to trust me like I trust you.”
Each his pupils dilated further than they already had in the shadily lit room, and it was so apparent that you had to clench your fist, dig in your own nails until it stung to ensure you weren’t dreaming.
His answer was simple.
“Alright.”
You rubbed nervous, excited circles against the indents on your hand.
“There’s a prom party at the end of the month,” Joshua said, pulling out his phone as it vibrated, “You should come. I know Jennie’s going.”
“Uh, that sounds fun. I think.”
Slipping off his seat, Joshua grinned.
“Come find me if you decide to go—anyways, Hansol wants to get a burger and apparently I’m the only one he knows with a car. See ya.”
There were so many butterflies in your stomach, you tried not to cough one out as Joshua made his way toward the door—forgetting that stupid pencil of course. He liked writing all his notes and homework with pen, and you hated knowing such a specific, trivial fact.
“Yeah, talk to you later.”
It didn’t take much contemplation for you to agree to the prom party, even if you had yet to configure a ride or the location or how you’d get your hands on some alcohol (because you definitely weren’t going to enjoy one of those things sober), hence your decision to entreat Joshua for his phone number.
It was only to ask about the details.
You learned the party was going to be hosted at Jeonghan’s house, probably the most popular senior in the entire school, and that there was a very strict designated driver policy. Well, at least you could scratch one bullet off your list, leaving just the ride and the alcohol. There was no way you were going to ask Joshua to be your escort—like he’d want to have his little sister’s friend stuffed in the backseat, it would be a total mood kill.
Jennie was apparently going too. You’d try to avoid her if you could help it, even if it meant locking yourself in some washroom that reeked of liquor and smoke and impulsive decisions laced with vomit.
By the time the party rolled around, you were having a severe case of thought seconds, unable to sit still and constantly checking your phone and wondering how many times you could possibly change from the black skirt back into your shorts before you decided something. Chan, a boy from your English class, was kind enough to offer a ride—even some alcohol that his older brother had swiped for him. He texted that he’d be outside your house around nine o’clock, though it wasn’t until half an hour later that his car crunched into the driveway.
“Sorry,” he apologized the instant you opened the door, “I got busted—my mom found the beer in my backpack and got all mad. She thinks I’m still in my bedroom. I had to sneak out the window.”
Clicking on your seatbelt, you threw the boy a perplexed look.
“Uh, are you sure that was a good idea? I can probably just try to mooch off people. I don’t want you to get in serious trouble.”
Shrugging, Chan ignited the engine and set his navigation system to the party’s address, seeming disproportionately unconcerned.
“No, but I wasn’t going to bail. My brother said he’d take most of the heat, anyways. Oh—I really like your skirt by the way.”
“Thanks,” you replied, inching closer to the window.
Because you didn’t know him all that well, the car ride was a little awkward, your ankle twisting in these back and forth circles conveying just how nervous you were. Only the placid voice of the navigation system broke the silences, until Chan cleared his throat and lowered its volume.
“Did you hear the big drama that’s going around?”
Your ankle paused, and you looked across the glove box.
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, well I have the scoop. So, basically—wait, you know Elsie Bolger, right? The Envirothon girl? And Joshua Hong. I mean, I think everyone knows them ‘cause they get around and stuff. And you’re friends with Jennie so you probably know Joshua.”
“Yeah, I know both of them.”
Chan only kept one hand on the wheel, his other motioning around like he was giving some sort of speech, “okay, so they broke up, right? On Wednesday. Apparently, it was after school, and Elsie was like, sobbing, asking why and what went wrong, ‘cause it was him who broke the ice about it. I heard Joshua was saying that he saw her more like a friend, but Elsie kept adding pressure that there was another girl. Not that he was cheating or anything, but I don’t think he loved her, so I kinda agree with Elsie. There has to be someone else he likes—or, shit, maybe even loves. I think it’s that choir girl with the long arms. ”
He threw you a curious glance, as though he were anticipating your angle on the situation, though you couldn’t express much apart from an unhinged jaw and a stutter that fell to hot breath in your chest. When your tongue tapped the roof of your mouth, it was dry, and Chan must’ve thought you looked nauseous because he offered to roll a window down.
“I had no idea,” you admitted, smoothing your hand over a crinkle in your skirt, “I really hadn’t heard anything about it, so…”
“Really? That’s surprising. Who’s side, though?”
“What?”
Chan opened his window an extra inch and smiled.
“I mean like, who do you think was right? Joshua or Elsie?”
Honestly, at that moment, the idea of yanking the door open and bailing onto the dirt road seemed extremely tempting. How could he expect you to answer a question like that? When you were younger, you used to daydream about this: Joshua at long last detaching from his girlfriend, in which you could somehow swoop in to take her place and dust out his memories of her like you were cleaning a closet. But now that opportunity had actually presented itself. And you felt miserable.
Why would Joshua even decide that a party was what he needed right now? Why wasn’t he at home, heartbroken and grieving?
Chan snapped his fingers.
“Well, who’s side?”
“I-I don’t know,” you stuttered, “and I don’t want to choose.”
“Student cards, please.”
At the end of Jeonghan’s long driveway, a booth had been set up by the student council. You didn’t know the girl who’d asked you to present that pointless card you never thought would be useful, but once you flashed it to her, she grabbed your wrist and pressed a stamp to the back of your hand. It seemed that the night was really starting to take shape around ten o’clock—indecorous music echoed from the house and smoke was curling up into the blackness, courtesy of an impressive fire that crackled in the backyard. You weren’t sure what to do without Chan, who was already halfway along the driveway when you caught him.
“Please don’t wander off on me,” you sighed, taking a skittish look around the property filled with strangers, “I mean, I’m not gonna tether you to my side the whole time, but you are my ride.”
Chan pulled open the double doors to Jeonghan’s home, and a burst of heat welcomed you, steadily fanning your face. He obviously wanted to be inside, though you would have preferred to stay outdoors where it was cooler and a bit quieter and the likelihood of a guile senior cornering you against some table or couch was far lower.
The boy glanced around, stretching his neck to peer into the different rooms, “I won’t wander. I’m just looking for someone…” he mumbled, paying you next to no attention as he pardoned his way into the adjoining kitchen. Not wanting to be abandoned, you followed him.
“Oh—look, there’s Seungkwan!” Chan exclaimed, pointing his finger into the room past the kitchen.
Again, you hurried after him, squishing between two seniors who were nonetheless unenthusiastic at hearing your apology, and you were half-expecting to get a solo cup thrown at the back of your head. The friend Chan had met, Seungkwan, was gathered with a few others at this little counter in the living room, each whom you recognized from your grade. Seungkwan wasn’t one to drink, so when he asked if you wanted his cup of hard lemonade, you took it almost immediately and used it as an excuse to not fully join their conversation. Instead, you meandered more around the outside of their circle, surveilling the room and trying to catch any familiar face that presented itself. Well, not just any face.
You were specifically hoping to see Joshua.
Since Chan had told you about his breakup with Elsie, your whole demeanour shifted, and a fog had creeped its way into your brain. You couldn’t think about anything but him. Even standing next to the speaker responsible for blasting a salacious song about messy sex and drugs wasn’t doing much to distract you. Jeonghan’s house was considerably large, therefore Joshua could be anywhere. And you had yet to understand it. Was he intentionally glossing over his own misery by forcing himself to enjoy a party? Or was he happy to escape a relationship that he might’ve never truly wanted in the first place? That didn’t seem like him. He definitely loved Elsie. You needed him to be okay.
“Can you not just stand there? You’re blocking the way.”
You had no idea who they were, but this girl who was vastly taller than you appeared, holding onto the hand of a guy you assumed to be her boyfriend—either that or a quick, meaningless hook-up.
Without uttering a word, you stepped aside and let them pass.
And then you looked back at Chan, staying true to his vow and steering clear of drinking. Hovering beside him the entire night like a shy puppy wasn’t going to make you feel any better, nor would engaging in synthetic conversations with people you barely talked to at school, so you decided to break your own promise and wander. Your guesswork of the house led you out a random door, into the backyard where the bonfire was sparking and jouncing as students threw in more wood. Sipping at your hard lemonade, you examined everyone as best you could, though it was practically impossible to decipher all the blurry faces.
The very second you stepped off the deck onto the grass, someone’s arm was sliding around your shoulders, and as you were being tugged against this body you realized that Joshua had found you first.
“Aww, so glad y’could make it!” He slightly fumbled the pronunciation of his words, dragging them with a laziness that could only indicate he was inebriated, or teetering on the heated edge of it.
It took you a moment to regain your footing.
“Almost forgot y’were coming—” he paused to laugh, rubbing one hand beneath his nose, leaning on you heavily, “but I saw you n’ I remembered! M’so happy to see you, soso happy.” Joshua’s arm then tightened around your shoulders, like you were his support crutch.
“I’m, uh, happy to see you too,” you answered.
If it weren’t for the deep breaths you were subtly taking, you might as well have fainted. Joshua had never treated you like this in all your years of knowing him—even the moments when he’d come home late at night, tipsy and wobbly and Jennie would have to cover for him come morning. The fact was that there had always been an unspoken boundary between you, an invisible line, which now seemed completely erased as the boy pressed at your shoulder blades and urged you forward, something about meeting his friends, his face glowing with the surge of alcohol and his eyes completely clouded. This confused you further.
Because even though he was drunk, this was so unlike his character. You suspected that breaking up with Elsie must have shattered him. All his pieces hit the floor and he just left them there, broken.
“Are you doing alright? I, uh… I’m just wondering…”
Joshua stopped, unwinding his arm from your shoulder to fix his hat, combing back the thick hair underneath with his fingers.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Fan-fucking-tastic,” he replied, seeming unconscious of the words leaving his own mouth.
“Well, that’s… I mean, that’s good. I’m glad to hear that, really glad, because I just—I heard some stuff and—” you nervously wet your throat with another sip from the solo cup, feeling your body shake, “it’s not my business or anything! Like, not at all, and I don’t want it to sound like I’m prying, or that I don’t believe you, but I—”
“Jeonghan’s just over there,” Joshua interrupted after fixing his backwards cap on, “we have a couch outside. Come sit w’us.”
He slid an arm around you again, pulling you forward.
And you stepped alongside him, shrinking yourself as much as possible to avoid colliding with another intoxicated body, smelling the fresh charred wood and smoke that desiccated the night air. Your little heart was beating so fast that you had to talk with a second pulse.
“You do? T-That’s cool. But, like I was saying, I guess I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened with Elsie. And I really hope that you’re okay and everything. I’m here for you, so—”
It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute you were occupied with speaking, and the next, Joshua’s warm, soft lips had pushed to yours, effectively shriveling your next thought as he held your shoulder. The kiss was transient. Before it could even click, Joshua had already pulled away like it was nothing at all but a hair to the wind.
“I said I’m fine, ‘kay?” Joshua slurred, and you looked into his eyes with enough intensity to burn a hole, “I’m g’nna take you to the couch. We can sit down and stuff. Jeonghan’s there.”
“Okay.” You agreed quietly.
However, as you made your way to the couch propped close by the bonfire, desperately scanning the crowds and ensuring no one had seen that unpredictable moment, you caught glimpse of a face that was so familiar it made you weak. The hard lemonade nearly dropped from your hand and soiled in the grass. Because Jennie was practically glaring at you from the trees, her arms folded and her mouth uncordially slanted.
You didn’t know what to feel any more.
It was definitely an old couch, one that Jeonghan’s parents were probably on cusp of throwing out, especially with all its patches and prickly seats and burnt spots from cigarette butts. You were wedged against the arm while Joshua drank beside you, spreading out his legs and pretty much exiling you to as little space as possible—not that you really blamed him considering his lack of awareness right now. Jeonghan was decent, though you knew he would never even be talking to you if not for your connection with Joshua. So, the senior seemed to deal.
He chucked another log onto the fire, and a big swoop of sparks and ashes puffed upward like a volcanic breath. Once Jeonghan dusted off his hands, he sat himself down on an old table and cracked open another beer. Your lemonade was one sip away from being completely empty. It still felt a little strange to be drinking something that wasn’t cream soda.
“Pass me that,” Joshua asked, slumping forward and gesturing to the beer his friend had just drank from, “or pour some into my cup.”
Jeonghan chuckled, guiding him back by the shoulder.
“I think you’ve had enough, Shua,” he answered, “you had some fun. Now it’s time to mellow out a little. You’ll thank me when you aren’t stuck in the bathroom throwing up your guts an hour from now.”
“You suck so fucking much,” Joshua complained, crumpling up his solo cup and then proceeding to toss it over his shoulder.
“I suck, yeah, yeah,” Jeonghan clearly didn’t take the comment to heart, instead knocking his fist atop Joshua’s head, “I’m gonna take a lap around the house—” he suddenly pointed at you, “make sure he drinks a glass of water or something. Or at least keep an eye on him until Hansol comes back. And don’t let him mooch. You got all that?”
With a stiff, tiny smile, you nodded.
“Sorry to dump the man on you. I’ll be back soon.”
Even though you hadn’t been getting along spectacularly well with the senior, you still wished he could have stayed. You felt unprepared to console Joshua, and that it wasn’t exactly your place to start controlling his alcohol when he was evidently going through something. But, then again, your concern outweighed the uncertainty, and you found yourself grabbing the boy’s shoulder, gluing him back to the couch when a girl had shuffled by with a bottle wrapped in a brown bag. He threw his head back, sunk lower into the cushions with a groan.
“I’m sorry,” you squeaked, “I’m just doing what Jeonghan said.”
“What do y’have left n’here…” he asked vacantly, pulling at your arm and looking into the solo cup, “what is this? Can I have it?”
“There’s hardly any left. And—”
“Mm, you’re gonna say no, right?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond before he was already pushing his weighted body off the couch, stumbling slightly. “Get some myself then… w-whoa—”
“How about you just sit down? Please Joshua?”
You stood up too, planting your hand on his lower back to stabilize his toppling movement. It didn’t help that one of his friends walked by, her and Joshua exchanging a quick dap before she giggled something unintelligible. She let Joshua have a swig of her drink, and you almost fumed at her in a blind rage, because how could she not care enough about him to see that alcohol was far from what he needed? In less than a second, you’d ripped the drink away and thrust it back.
“Okay, relax,” the older girl tutted condescendingly, “this is a party, y’know? Why don’t you have a sip yourself and calm down?”
“I’m just—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving. Later, Josh.”
Like some sort of animal guarding its territory, you watched her until she disappeared into the crowds, and it was only then that you exhaled long and slow, realizing Joshua had already collapsed back onto the couch. You sat down as well, though at the very edge.
“Where’s Hansol?” You asked.
Joshua folded an arm behind his head, “dunno.”
“Well, once he comes back, I’m going inside.”
The boy’s head fell in your direction, the fire flooding his eyes with sunset orange as he questioned, “why are you waiting for him?”
“Because I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“Why?”
You shot him an anxious but stern look, “why d’you think?”
“I’m seriously fine.”
“Uh, you’re seriously not.”
Joshua laughed, a hiccup caught in his throat. His gaze traveled away from your face and back toward the fire, extremely dilated.
“It’s not even your business, so I don’t get it...”
“I know that—” for some reason, you felt yourself getting emotional, and your knees started tapping together as the nerves expanded, “but you saying that doesn’t make me not worried. I know if it were me, you’d be acting the same way. Wouldn’t you?”
Joshua was silent for a moment, but then he tensely swallowed and pushed his way back up the couch. He looked at you with the most clarity you had witnessed from those eyes all night, and suddenly, his hand had come to rest on your bare knee, squeezing it gently. He wanted to say something. It was loaded on his tongue like a bullet, but then—
“Uff—I’m back!” Hansol plopped down on the couch, sprawling out all his limbs and placing a water bottle behind Joshua’s head.
His hand was already off your knee.
And you were already making your way inside.
Honestly, you never envisioned yourself as the type to hide away in a washroom at a high school party, sat on the floor with your arms folded like some woeful delinquent who thought they were too unique for the world. Too unique? Not exactly. A woeful delinquent? Yeah, pretty much. You hadn’t bothered asking Chan to leave. The last you saw of the boy he was enjoying his time examining Jeonghan’s record wall.
Almost three hours had passed. One in the morning was just around the corner, and somehow the party was still twirling with energy.
Just Dance, that was the song, the only Lady Gaga hit on the entire playlist that somehow made the walls shake whenever it played. The heat was thick enough for you to force open the bathroom window where breeze was faint, but you leaned into it regardless. Not many people were concentrated to this side of the house—mostly because there wasn’t anything out there aside from a generator and some trees. You would hear voices occasionally, though you could never deduce what they were saying. Jennie and Marina had walked underneath the window at one point. You had pulled back so quickly that your head spun.
This had all been a mistake. Almost as if the universe willed to prove your point, an obnoxious knocking berated the door, prompting you to uncomfortably swallow and call out a hoarse, “occupied!”
But the doorknob continued to jiggle, and then there was more pounding that jerked you hastily and fearfully to your feet.
“I said occupied!” You shouted, pacing a few steps forward and wondering what was the best possible item in this washroom to defend yourself—most likely the can of hairspray (you made a mental note).
After you still refused to unlock the door, the stranger left, and you assumed they were either left partially deaf due to the music or were off their rocker on whatever drugs and alcohol had managed to circle around the house. Brought back to sitting on the floor, you checked your phone again, groaning at the red sliver of battery you were prolonging.
Hungry, tired, sweaty, and slightly sick, you contemplated lying flat across the rug in an attempt to fall asleep. It wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t care. The thought of closing your eyes was heavenly, and before you could pick a verdict they were already fluttering shut, the music beneath you sounding incredibly distant, turned to a soft echo that seemed like it was pushing through layers of concrete.
Someone else came to the door.
When they knocked, you were convinced it was the stranger from earlier. Now, you were angry, angry enough to unveil whoever this person was (and pray the first thing they didn’t do was projectile vomit all their nights liquor onto your shirt). Yet, when you saw Joshua’s face through the mirage of dark, crimson colours mottling the corridor, you wished it could have been that stranger holding down their stomach. He looked a little more focused, though his hair was mussed up in spikes and his cheeks were visibly blotched pink in the mugginess. One of his hands braced against the doorframe. Joshua wasn’t sober, just steadier.
“Can I come in?” He asked, keeping his head angled to the floor, rubbing the tip of his nose with a knuckle.
“Were you looking for me?”
“Jeonghan said he last saw you going into the washroom.”
With a reluctant sigh, you grabbed Joshua’s arm and pulled him inside, kicking the door shut with your foot. Whoever was in charge of the music had opted to play the song even louder, and you heard the living room crowd belting along to every lyric, even from upstairs.
He sat on the edge of the bathtub. You joined him.
Joshua then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. For a moment, you questioned if it was right to ask him about the kiss—you were burning to know his intentions, drunk or not. The boy proceeded to grin.
“What?” You were intrigued—tempted to laugh, even.
“Nothing,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I just—I feel numb, or something. Like, I feel everything: how hot it is, sweat on the back of my neck, the chills in my fingers, but at the same time, I don’t really feel it.”
You sniffled, twisting your ankle in nervous circles. Joshua leaned back a little less, though he dragged a hand through the thick strands of his hair, and you now understood why it was so messy.
“Where’s your hat?”
“Lost it,” he smiled.
“We should switch places.”
“Why?”
“So you can be closer to the window. There’s a nice breeze.”
Once Joshua had slid over, you two sat in silence, listening to each rhythmic thump. He pulled one of his banged-up converse onto the edge of the tub, propping an arm across his knee while he stared into the moonlight. You wanted desperately to know each thought in his head.
Then, he was suddenly looking square into your eyes.
“Did I kiss you?”
With a careful nod, your fingers clenched.
“Fuck, that was just a stupid, stupid accident. I’m sorry. I thought I dreamt that for a second—I keep fucking up.”
An accident? A stupid, stupid accident?
No, that makes sense. Of course it’s an accident.
But it hurts. God, it really hurts.
He was drunk. That’s why. You already knew that!
Why is it so much harder to breathe?
Your eyes are stinging. Pull yourself together, holy shit.
He really doesn’t see you like that. It’s obvious, always has been.
Don’t you dare cry. Pull it together. Pull it together.
Pull it together!
“Hey,” Joshua tapped your arm, “I’m really sorry.”
“No, I—” you pushed off the edge of the tub, leaning against the clam-shaped sink instead, taking a second to blink and force back the wetness at your tear ducts, “it’s fine. I get it. I’ve just been sitting on the floor for like, the past three hours. I need to stand a bit. But— I’m just thinking, maybe you should go home. It’s been an intense week.”
The older boy agreed, nodding his head as a lopsided smile touched at those perfect lips. You nibbled your inner cheek.
“I don’t know why I came, I just—” Joshua threw his hands up defeatedly, “Elsie and I, we wanted different things. She was amazing, and I have only good things to say about her, but I…”
You weren’t sure if you could handle this. It didn’t help that your mind was still whirling from his earlier apology, thoughts and emotions spinning and spinning like a spool of slippery ribbon coming undone. But at the same time, you wanted to be there for Joshua. He must be unraveling about this heartbreak because he trusted you, though, as he stumbled and continued correcting himself and paused every minute or so to look deeply at the moonlight, you began believing that Joshua had forged his relationship with Elsie as some sort of distraction.
And this sparked a flicker in your dark eyes.
Was it easier to be with Elsie than it was to be with you?
But you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stood there silently, letting Joshua reminisce, gulp back his tears, pick up those shattered pieces he’d dropped that bitter Wednesday afternoon—as he should be doing, rather than stuffing his heart into an ice bucket and letting it numb. His smile reflected as less broken by the time he’d finished.
“Well, I sorta unloaded. I hope it wasn’t too much.”
“No, you needed to do that. I’m glad you did.”
Joshua finally stretched his leg off the edge of the tub, meanwhile he raked through his hair again, flopping it all over the place.
“I’m glad I did, too,” he admitted, steadying his gaze on you.
Your lower back pressed further against the sink.
“I mean, you’ve listened to me complain about pretty much everything under the sun. Even your sister. You’re just caching in.”
“Should I be caching in more often?”
“Wow—perfect Joshua Hong has more stuff to get off his chest?”
He huffed, “since when have I been perfect? Like, ever?”
Whoops, that had been a revealing slip of the tongue. You crinkled your nose and swung your smitten head toward the window.
“I didn’t say perfect.”
“But you did, though.”
“You’re hearing things.”
Joshua rolled his shoulders, capitulating to you easily.
“Whatever,” he said, finally rising from his seat with a smirk that felt familiar, “I’ll take the compliment, even if it supposedly didn’t exist.”
At that moment, you thought he was going to leave the washroom, and once again you would be left to sit on the floor until Chan overwhelmed your phone with texts, asking where you were. There was no way he could still be admiring the record wall. He’d probably moved onto something else obscure yet alluring. Jeonghan’s house was just as pretentious as the senior himself. But Joshua didn’t disappear.
He grabbed your shoulder, and you froze.
“Thank you, I should say before I forget.”
The mould around you crumbled away.
“Oh yeah, for sure, um—no big deal,” you mumbled awkwardly while pulling him into a hug, losing your words in a mere instant.
His arms curled around your waist, firm on each side, and there was a soft squeeze to your body that left you breathless. Your right hand landed at the back of his neck, fingers moving almost instinctually toward his black hair, feeling each lock slip through, a bit tangled and damp with sweat. Shit—your heart had never raced like this before. He could probably sense it against his own chest. Joshua had started pulling away, and so you replied with a slow, obviously unwanted retreat from his body. For some reason, Joshua left a hand on the hip of your skirt, which he seemed to be looking down at for a notable time.
You should kiss him.
Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. Don’t let him go. Pull him against you. Lick into his mouth and move his hand back to your hip. Show him he doesn’t need to distract himself anymore because you’re right here.
Except—you did none of that.
Joshua said thank you once more. And he slipped back into the misted, red lights that glowed outside in the corridor.
You had never gotten into a fight before, though you’d been a witness to one or more at school. The first fight—which your principal incessantly referred to as an ‘altercation’—was three years ago on the green, when two senior footballers had gotten into a shoving match that resulted in the meeker having his cheek rubbed against the dirt for a solid five minutes. The second fight was a year later, between two girls who were opting to practically pull the other’s hair out in the locker room.
But you, yourself, had never gotten into an actual fight.
Maybe sixteen was the year you’d throw your first punch.
You just never anticipated that the girl on the potentially-receiving end would be Jennie Hong, a former best friend since the age of twelve, now converted to a thorny stranger who’d gotten the tiniest sip of popularity and clung to it with stunning avarice. Ever since your falling-out, you always assumed this day would pull itself out from the leaves—essentially a disinterring of what had killed the friendship—though you hadn’t expected it here or now. It had only been a weekend since the party. Jennie couldn’t even keep her burning remarks until two-thirty.
Instead it was lunch, at the base of the staircase outside the library, just without its centrepiece couple to clog the path. Nobody was really filtering through at that moment, but you could already imagine how the tight space would bubble with a crowd once someone caught wind of the shouting. How the hell do you throw a punch, anyways?
“You know what—I don’t have to answer to you. It’s not like you’re my boss or anything.” Right, and when was the last time Jennie actually responded to a text message? She let the friendship fizzle.
“No, I’m not letting this slide, because what you did was one of the shallowest things I’ve seen—like, ever.”
“Ever?” You gawked, feeling an instant sharpness in your gut.
Jennie exaggeratedly rolled her doll eyes, and for some reason, you contemplated how it might feel to grab a stinging handful of her stupid, silky, coconut-smelling hair and rip it flat out.
“Yeah, ever! My brother just went through a huge break-up with the love of his life! And, you see this little window, so you come in and take it. I legit saw you kiss him. It made me think how selfish you are.”
“What is wrong with you, Jennie? That’s not how—”
“That’s basically what our friendship turned into. You’re fucking obsessed with my brother. You were supposed to be my one friend that wasn’t, but guess I was wrong. Joshua doesn’t want you, at all.”
For a quiet, hollow moment, you were speechless, meanwhile Jennie had this tart yet overtly prideful countenance, like she had so tactfully shone a beam on how horrible you were—an announcement to let the entire world know her ex best friend was the textbook definition of fake. You had noticed a few faces peeking through the doorway up the stairs, and this heat began stifling over you like smoke from a fire. She wasn’t going to listen or even reason with anything you could say.
“I-I don’t care what you think you saw. I’m not shallow, or selfish, and the fact that you have to like—even convince yourself I did something wrong is showing that you—you’re—you’re basically—”
“You can’t even say it!” Jennie threw a ridiculing finger out at you and cackled. “I’m right. I’m so fucking right about you.”
“No, you’re not!”
“Kitty got claws?”
“Shut up, Jennie!”
“No, I won’t. I have every right to feel hurt ‘cause of you! The truth is, you just like Josh ‘cause he’s the only boy that’s ever paid you any attention, so you obsess over him, thinking he’s gonna what? You’ll finally lose your v-card or something? I never wanted to think y’were just using me to know him, but that’s exactly what happened!”
You couldn’t stand listening to her, and tried to drown out the cacophony of her voice instead, rubbing harshly at your ears while you blurted, “just shut up! Shut up, shut up!” like it would make her vanish.
“Then do something to make me stop!”
And that’s when you felt the crackle skip down your wrist and bumble at the tips of your fingers. Could you really punch Jennie? The girl whom you’d once laughed with and cried with and spent a memorable chunk of your earlier adolescence figuring out the world with? God, you had never hit anything in your life, unless you counted the time you accidentally struck your mother in the jaw when she’d been trying to blow raspberries on your tummy. But that wasn’t intentional. And Jennie used to be a real outdoorsy kid, digging up snails and shaking beetles off bark. She wasn’t afraid to get her nails dirty.
You took a few steps toward her, and Jennie’s eyes widened. The slight lagging of her expression indicated that she genuinely hadn’t expected the slightest action from you, though, you’d lost the urge to strike her as quickly as it festered up. Besides, someone must have relayed the argument to the staff, because you heard the blips from the on-duty teacher’s walkie-talkie at the top of the stairway. An entire crowd of students had bunched behind them, watching a little too excitedly.
“There a problem here, girls?”
Surprisingly, Jennie was the first to cough.
“No.”
The teacher then glanced at you, folding his stout arms across his chest and pushing up the glasses on his red nose.
“No…” you repeated dully, your eyes trailing off to the side.
You took back everything you said about bad days.
This was officially the worst.
Monday.
[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: hey.
[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: something happen at school today?
[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: jennie wouldn’t talk to me in the car.
[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: thought you might know what happened.
...
[ don’t answer | 4:30 pm ]: are you taking a nap?
[ don’t answer | 4:30 pm ]: or is it physics? i can help.
Tuesday.
[ don’t answer | 3:20 pm ]: am i an idiot or were you avoiding me?
[ don’t answer | 3:25 pm ]: did i do something?
Thursday.
[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: i’m trying to give you space rn.
[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: just thinking about you.
[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: hope everything’s okay.
Sunday
[ ______ | 2:30 am ]: im sorry. messages were being weird.
[ ______ | 2:30 am ]: i don’t think we should talk any more.
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: why?
[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: it looks weird.
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: i’m not sure what happened bu
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: *but if i did something please tell me.
[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: it has nothing to do with you.
[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: im just trying to respect jennie.
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: are you talking about that fight? call me
don’t answer is calling…
call declined at 2:34 am.
[ don’t answer | 2:35 am ]: why not? idc what jennie thinks.
[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: well i do.
don’t answer is calling…
call declined at 2:35 am.
[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: joshua don’t i won’t pick up.
[ don’t answer | 2:35 am ]: this is easier if we talk.
[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: i don’t want to do that right now.
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: find me tomorrow at school, ok?
[ ______ | 2:36 am ]: where?
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: physics, at lunch.
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: my grad partys coming up soon.
[ ______ | 2:36 am ]: excited?
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: yeah.
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: one sec. sending a picture.
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: IMG.124_313
[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: new amp?????
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: early gift from vernons mom lol.
[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: no way she fucking bought u that!!
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: she loves me more than him.
[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: im not getting you anything like that, sorry
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: nah nah your presence is enough.
[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: u want me there??
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: obviously wtf.
[ don’t answer | 2:38 am ]: are you gonna skip bc of my sister?
[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: did you fall asleep? or are you avoiding the q?
[ ______ | 2:43 am ]: sorry, phone died.
[ ______ | 2:43 am ]: i don’t want stuff w jennie to ruin your day.
[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: you’re not gonna ruin anything.
[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: what if i told you
[ ______ | 2:44 am ]: told me what?
[ don’t answer | 2:44 am ]: that i want you there more than anyone else.
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: why do you keep disappearing?
[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: you’re such a liar lol.
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: you’re coming, ok?
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: i’ll make you promise me tomorrow.
[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: you can’t make me do that.
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: we’ll see.
[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: yeah we will.
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: ngl i’m tired. but find me on monday.
[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: i know. goodnight.
[ don’t answer | 2:47 am ]: goodnight.
1 month later.
[ ______ | 6:50 pm ]: hey, answer me asap.
[ ______ | 6:50 pm ]: need extra thoughts on what i should wear.
[ joshua h. | 6:53 pm ]: wear whatever you want.
[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: but how formal is it?
[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: could i get away with like……
[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: a really nice camisole and jeans??
[ joshua h. | 6:53 pm ]: yeah.
[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: what are u wearing?
[ joshua h. | 6:54 pm ]: dress shirt and slacks.
[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: that’s at least noticeably formal!!
[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: i’m going to wear my skirt.
[ joshua h. | 6:54 pm ]: okay lol. see u there.
[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: this frjdsy, right?
[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: whoops **friday
[ joshua h. | 6:55 pm ]: yeah. come at like 8-ish.
[ ______ | 6:55 pm ]: will do.
How were you supposed to feel about Joshua leaving? Honestly, you tried not to ruminate on it. Your relationship had definitely evolved more than it ever had these past few months, and now that you were finally shaking off the thick chrysalis of being his “little sister’s best friend”, Joshua would be coasting away to university. New people, new experiences, new environment—how were you going to ensure you were the thing that stuck? That, when he was in the midst of some homecoming party with a girl sliding her fingers down his arm, in the back of his mind he was thinking of you to an annoying degree.
You didn’t know how to do that.
It felt awkward to even muse about such a thing as you stood in the Hong family living room, occasionally scraping a few pieces of crackers and cheese off the platters organized on the island while everyone buzzed and mingled around you. Jennie was somewhere. You didn’t know where, but at that point you didn’t care any longer. The fight had wedged you two apart for good. Thankfully its details hadn’t circulated much, and if Joshua had any indication the precise details of the fight, he was very polished at hiding it. His mother had swung by a few times to talk with you, and you always saw Joshua’s seraphic eyes in hers.
“Every time I walk past, you’re glued to this spot,” she smiled genuinely and gesticulated with a wave of her wine glass.
“Oh, just enjoying the crackers,” you replied, “and, um, the cheese. But it’s okay. I don’t mind people-watching.”
“Need anything to drink?”
“I’m good. Thanks, though.”
She squinched her face for a moment, “I might offer the wine, but you are by far underage. Of course, I’m saying this like you haven’t already drank before. Most teenagers find a way. Jennie uses Joshua who uses his older friend, Seungcheol. I’m not condoning it, obviously.”
“Obviously,” you grinned, flitting a wink at her.
“Oh, I miss you,” she half-exhaled, half-laughed, grabbing onto your shoulder with a touch of comfort you’d almost forgotten. “I’m still trying to figure out how to handle Jennie’s new friends.”
With a distant hum, you agreed, “that makes two of us.”
Someone suddenly called her over from the next room, and she politely dismissed herself, fitting in a graceful comment about your outfit before she strode away. And that was when you started feeling… disheartened, a bit empty, dreary about the future and how you were supposed to wake up relatively excited for school knowing that Joshua’s kind, sweet, stupidly pretty face wasn’t going to be there. It felt like a kick in the teeth, and it hadn’t even happened yet. Did he care that he was going to be leaving you here to sink further into your loneliness?
As you picked at another cracker, Hansol came up from the basement with Jennie following suit. They were holding extra paper plates and cups, and you watched from your peripheral as Hansol kept the door open for her with his foot. He was graduating too, though his family hadn’t glamorized it as much as Joshua’s, to which you figured the boy was dually enjoying the praises he got in the mix. Jennie and Hansol walked off together into another room, talking animatedly and constantly brushing shoulders and smiling a little too gleefully for two people who just got sent to the basement for some cardboard and plastic.
Where the hell is Joshua?
You got here at eight, and hadn’t seen him once.
Well, if he didn’t want to be found, then you’d just follow the very obvious trail that lead to his bedroom, the door cracked open and the aging, peeling poster of that lady with the star-shaped sunglasses still staring at you just as placidly as always. When you thought about it, she was the only one to ever see you stop and stare at his door over the many years, watching your wonder of him turn into a crush, and then whatever you called it nowadays. Using your foot, you tapped the door open slightly, exchanging a nervous glance with the star-shaped glasses lady.
Joshua hadn’t even noticed that you’d entered. He was squatted in the corner, wires snaking around his feet, some plugged into a few outlets on his amp. Of course, this is what concerned him right now.
“So, you’ve been up here, playing around with a bunch of wires, instead of like, enjoying the graduation party you forced me to come to.”
He flinched, at first jarred by your presence, but you noted Joshua’s relaxed smile as he rose up while sweeping some dust off his hands. You stood in one place, like roots were sprouting from your socked feet into the floor, hands fiddling behind your back.
Standing near his desk, Joshua gestured to the lava lamp.
“Do you want that?” He asked as a bright, yellowish gob of liquid floated gradually upward, merging into the purple.
“Why would I want it?”
“You said something to me once about always wanting a lava lamp. I don’t really need it anymore.”
Rolling back your shoulders, you chuckled. “I said that like, two years ago. And I think it’s a staple of your room. You should keep it here.”
“Good point,” he answered, reaching for a soda can on his desk.
Cream soda, obviously. Some things never change.
You sighed, though it ended up whisking out your mouth in a much sadder tone than you intended, and for a second your heart skipped a beat because you didn’t want Joshua thinking his graduation party was insipid or boring. If anything, you were reminiscing, and it just wasn’t in your nature right now to be especially pert when you knew he was leaving. Not to mention, you hated him in a crisp white dress shirt that he’d clearly been fiddling with because the sleeves were too long and the fabric was too stuffy. He’d cuffed the material up to his elbows and undid a few buttons that unveiled a deep amount of his skin.
Were collarbones intended to be that attractive?
“Everything okay?” Joshua questioned, tilting his head.
You leaned against the desk with him, the room hardly aglow in the dull heat from his lava lamp. Honestly, you did kind of want it.
“Well, you’re going off to university…”
“I am.”
“So, you won’t be here. Like, at all.”
“Are you forgetting the entire summer before I leave? And reading week? And Christmas? And whatever else? I’m not ‘gone’,” he quoted with his fingers, “you have my number, anyways.”
You scoffed, smiling at him to lighten the tension. “Pfft, yeah, like you’re even going to be hitting me back. You know you won’t, right?”
Joshua merely shook his head in disagreement, folding his arms.
“Never mind any of that stuff. I don’t mean to make it about myself—” Jennie’s face scorched across the canvas of your mind like a lightning strike, that comment about you being selfish, “how are you feeling? I mean, shit has been… a little different for you this year.”
The boy bit his lip softly as he agreed, and his eyes almost glazed over for a particular second, as though he were flicking through heavy pages of old memories. Was he thinking about Elsie? You really hadn’t spoken to her since their breakup, apart from an excruciatingly awkward encounter in the girl’s washroom where you basically expressed your empathies to a brick wall. She had been scrubbing every cell of her hands with soap, smiling and nodding and probably wishing you’d just dissipate. Since then, you hadn’t seen the autumn haired girl much.
“Yeah,” Joshua hummed, tilting his head in your direction, “I guess it has been different. But… good different…” his eyes stilled on you like they were focusing a picture, and you swore his gaze drifted up from your legs, your hips, ever so briefly along your chest and to the sort of frozen expression painted stiffly and crookedly to your face.
What the fuck does that mean?
“So… you’re ready to leave?” Experimentally, you adjusted your hand on the desk, having your fingers slightly overlap with his.
“Pretty much.”
He stared at you again, and this sitting, small frog in your chest charged into a hop as Joshua’s ring finger slid overtop your pinky, hooking the two digits together. Nervous was an understatement—you felt downright nauseous, the dry-mouthed, heart-hammering, sweat-slicked kind where fainting seemed like a possibility if you didn’t go into cardiac arrest first. Despite the guileless brushing of your fingers, Joshua’s face hadn’t budged that much. He was about as easy to read as a stone tablet, only if someone used scissors instead of a chisel.
But was it right to doubt yourself? This could be the perfect moment served on a silver platter. Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing, or how to kiss someone, or how to look at this boy’s sweetly plump lips without feeling tingly and dehydrated, but if you didn’t just make that fucking move you’ve been waiting on like a birthday wish then—
“Oh, yeah! Totally forgot to mention this but—”
“Wait, Joshua—”
He had taken a step away from the desk, and without thought, you latched onto his shoulder in an attempt to reel him back.
The boy turned around almost automatically, unable to purse another word past his lips as he realized the seriousness that had desaturated your aura, feeling the shaky hands that pulled down the smooth front of his dress shirt, arms now curling their way around his neck. You had pressed him in close against you, not a flicker of space between, and Joshua still hadn’t said a word as you touched your lips to his in a light contact. Unsure if you should continue, you almost stepped away, surprised to consequently feel two firm hands on your hips which guided you back in, his lips now eagerly pushing against yours.
But it quickly dawned on Joshua that he needed to go slower for you, and there was an almost grateful, relieved breath into his mouth when he extended each kiss into a gradual pace. Working softly, letting you pause to take in as much air as you needed, occasionally smiling against your mouth whenever he added something like an experienced touch of the tongue that you clearly enjoyed and responded to. Almost blinded by the desire you felt, you were immediately desperate for more, having Joshua sit down in his desk chair while you climbed onto him.
“Wait—” he huffed between your kisses, accepting each one and nipping back too, almost like he couldn’t stop himself, “wait just a sec.”
His calloused hands landed on your bare thighs. You couldn’t help but twitch the instant it happened, losing another fleck of sanity, chills dancing up your spine when his fingers inched further to play with the short, black hem of your skirt. To your displeasure, Joshua suddenly abandoned that idea all together. Almost like he’d contacted something burning hot, the boy chose to grasp your waist instead.
“What?” You mumbled breathlessly against his neck, exploring the skin with licks and bites.
This was something you had never done before, something you didn’t even know you were capable of, but the desire was flowing out and you didn’t know how to stop it. His addicting scent fluttered around you, making it beyond difficult to concentrate. Joshua’s fingers then grazed your cheek, pulling your face back toward him where he slotted your mouths together once more, wanting to kiss you harder but knowing he needed to stop. You sensed it too—he was confused and apprehensive.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you leaned back on his lap and frowned. “Is there something wrong? You don’t want us to?”
Joshua reached for your face again, moving you back in.
“Listen,” he said, using that satin-dipped voice of his which could only indicate he was about to let you down gently, “it’s not that… I just—you’re beautiful, and thoughtful, and as much as I want to—” he sucked in a breath that seemed deeply regretful, moving his thumb across the crest of your cheek with such fragility as he admitted, “I can’t, and I feel like I shouldn’t. I’m so, so sorry. I really am.”
“So… what does that mean? You don’t like me?”
It was akin to pinpricking a balloon—just the slightest puncture had instantly deflated you, and there was a horrible, useless feeling that soaked into your bones as this boy caressed your face so tenderly.
“No, I like you. Fuck, of course I do,” Joshua whispered, sitting up further in the chair, black tresses slipping into his eyes, “but—”
“I’m just your little sister’s best friend, right?” Damn it, tears had glistened up as you said it. “Well, not even best friend. She fucking hates me, thinks I’m pathetic or whatever. And, is she even wrong? I mean, I’m literally sitting on her brother’s lap thinking he—you’d actually want me.”
“Slow down—” Joshua reached for your wrist as you squirmed off his lap, but you flinched away from it and wiped your cheeks instead.
“Please, you don’t have to leave. I mean, I’m not gonna hold you here, and— okay, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Fuck, I’m so sorry—“
He pushed out of the desk chair, reaching toward your face.
But you stepped back at the same time, maintaining the equidistance.
“What did you mean to do, then?!”
“I-I don’t know, honest. I really don’t know. Just—not this.”
Everything was fucking sweltering and stinging and you had never hated yourself more for thinking Joshua saw you as anything else but that dorky sidekick to his sister. And, you didn’t want to hear him elaborate or try to sugar coat his truth because that would only shove the knife further into your back. You wanted to leave, chiefly because you knew he wouldn’t follow, though nothing had ever hurt more in your life than when you slammed his door shut for the very last time. As you hurried down the stairs and anxiously buckled your shoes back on at their front door, Jennie had wandered into the corridor holding onto a plastic cup, at first extremely confused to the tears caked over your face.
“Um… should I get you a tiss—”
“Actually, you were right.”
Jennie perched an eyebrow, then scratched at the bracelets on her wrist. She was too stunned by the situation to bother responding.
“Your brother doesn’t want me, at all.”
And just like that, you were out of their house in an instant.
This could be a good thing, exactly what you needed, even.
Age thirteen was the first time you had seen Joshua, and for some unshakeable reason, your brain decided that he was the only boy worth fixating over—coursing enough serotonin and dopamine through your receptors like a drug that seemed harmless enough to keep injecting until one day, it just wasn’t. Joshua wasn’t even that great. What did he do anyways, apart from having eyes as captivating as the fine details of an oil painting, and a voice that sounded what a daydream felt like, and this seemingly genuine attentiveness to your life that made you forget the blizzard that often whipped around it?
Right, Joshua was not all that.
There must be other people out there who could elicit that rush, and maybe you would have met one or two of them if you hadn’t been so tethered to the older brother character who’d pinned you as this one-dynamical permanent friend. And that’s why you had come to the conviction that he needed to be cut from your existence, not just in physicality, but in thought. The second you got home from the party—letting your bicycle crash against the asphalt driveway because it was a fossil anyway—you took every single can that you had kept over the years, shovelling them into your knapsack while trying not to blubber.
Flinging the bag over your shoulder, you saddled onto the bike and pedalled off toward the quarry near the edge of the town. There was a huge, earthy hole dug into the middle, and most people had decided to start treating the pit as a trash site. It was nearly pitch black by time you arrived, so you had to balance a tactical flashlight on a rock, your enlarged shadow cast along the big, graffitied construction boxes sitting opposite to the hole. You grabbed a soda can out from your bag and twisted it into the dirt, pausing for no less than a second as his pretty face eclipsed your thoughts, perhaps one last opportunity to weigh the scale.
No—follow through, don’t be doubtful.
Crush the can. Crush the crush.
Using your heel, you stomped the soda can, hearing the metal contort and crack like you had squeezed out its breath. Then, with a gust of the leg, you sent the flattened semblance of a disk sailing through the air into the pit, which seemed as deep and infinitely dark as the sky. You did it again. And again. Crush and kick. Crush and kick. Until there was nothing left inside your bag, emptied down to its dust and crumbs.
It would have been an incredibly victorious, fulfilling moment.
If only you had not been crying so hard the entire time.
[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: this is my fault, and i’m sorry.
[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: i shouldn’t have kissed you back and messed with your expectations. but it’s not that i don’t like you or think about you.
[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: bc i do. i just don’t know what’s right.
[ joshua h. | 11:46 pm ]: can we talk again? please.
[ joshua h. | 12:58 am ]: i’m sorry. i hurt you. i’m so fucking sorry.
[ joshua h. | 12:58 pm ]: i’m still gonna be here for you if you need me.
[ joshua h. | 12:59 am ]: goodnight.
Are you sure you want to block Joshua H? You will not receive any of this user’s messages.
…
Yes.
17.
Being seventeen was relatively new. Jennie Hong was no longer in your life. She was past a point of dislike and stuck on indifference. You heard from your mother that it was worse to be meaningless to someone than to be hated, and… you agreed. Chan, the boy responsible for driving you to Jeonghan’s party, was your boyfriend, and you two had started dating at the beginning of September. He had an oddly thrilling personality, a small group of friends, wasn’t too clingy or detached, and, well, he certainly tried at your relationship. Chan was the perfect amount of normal—balance, could be a better word, someone you looked at and sensed their life was exactly where they needed it to be.
Contrarily, your life had never felt like that, though that could have been due to Jos—him. Just, him, because you firmly decided that he was to remain a blank, faceless cut-out in the branching cloth of your memories. Right now you were with Chan, and he was lovely.
“What if—for the spaceship scene—you have her ride in on one of those harness thingies? And just get her to hold a cardboard painted ship. We have the budget for a harness-pulley system, right? All it takes is some rope and muscle, really.”
“We’re not doing that, Chan. I appreciate that you want to lessen the burden of my stage coordinator B.S, but after the Peter Pan incident last year, harnesses were fucking stripped from any future production.”
“Oh! That’s right. Wasn’t that what’s-her-face’s fault?”
Seungkwan rolled his eyes, “basically, yeah.”
Theatre wasn’t exactly your school’s forte. It was proven year after year, beginning with the tragically iconic incident of the mattress pile toppling in the Princess and the Pea. The most recent incident—referred to ominously as the “harness” incident from last year’s Peter Pan production—nearly sent the theatre’s jewel, Lee Seokmin, straight to the hospital, though he was kept content with a hot fudge sundae and a coupon book. How that worked was beyond your understanding.
You had known Seungkwan since middle school, and it had always been his dream to be appointed stage coordinator. While it was bestowed to him under hapless circumstances, he was taking the school’s original production, Lost on Planet Smeckle, to an almost concerning degree of seriousness, constantly walking around with a pen spinning between his fingers and an “inspiration” notebook tucked at the elbow which you assumed was rather void. In truth, it was a particularly hard job to get suspended from. Jennie used to operate the sound panel for the plays. You swore she almost never hit the right button or was either incredibly delayed at doing it, and she was never admonished once.
“Are you going to contribute any ideas or not?” Seungkwan quipped, leaning back in his chair with an ankle propped on his knee.
Squishing up the sloppy remainder of your sandwich into its plastic wrap, you chucked it at him, knocking the pen out his hand.
“Like I know how to spice up Lost on Planet Smoogle—”
“Smeckle!”
“Smeckle—whatever it is. You’re asking the wrong girl.”
After sliding his pen back with his foot, Seungkwan seemed to agree that you were impracticable, therefore illuminating Chan as the rubber to bounce any incoming ideas off. Lunch was nearly over anyways. You decided to let the boys hash out whatever they could.
“I’m going to the library.”
Chan reached for your hand, fluttering his eyes sweetly.
“I’ll come find you after chemistry, okay?”
“Sure thing,” you smiled, leaning down to give him a peck.
Speaking of the library, it had finally dawned on you that the couple who routinely opted to swap spit on the staircase were gone and graduated. While you had never been fond of them, they probably had the strongest relationship in the entire school. Chan occasionally joked about taking their place—it always earned him a thwap to the forehead.
Honestly, you weren’t sure why you escaped to the library, because hanging out with Seungkwan and Chan felt… right. They offered the company you always longed for in high school—a small, concrete group that was free of toxicity, the type of friends to groan with you about how unpalatable the cafeteria food was, stand with you outside your classes when the teacher was notably late and giggle about that stupid rhetoric of skipping after fifteen minutes. They were normal and familiar and that was all you could ask for. Seventeen was boring. Good boring.
A few minutes had gone by as you picked through the spines.
You kept sliding out and re-shelving the books without any actual intention of having them stamped. But then you pulled out a thick history novel that was at eye level. It revealed a perfect gap into the next aisle—exactly where Jennie and her friend Marina were standing. It surprised you so abruptly that you had flinched, cramming the book back into place as though you were restoring a bewitched, sacred artifact you definitely shouldn’t’ve touched. You should have left too. Except you didn’t, instead hovering close to the shelf where you deeply inhaled the scent of dusty paper, eavesdropping their conversation.
“Is that the one about the Galapagos finches?”
“Nope, dunno what it is—oh, there, barn owls. Not quite.”
“Maybe I should switch my topic. I fuckin’ hate biology. You think if I paid you ten bucks and half a joint, you’d write my project?”
“Yeah, no way. I’ll help you, though.”
“C’mon! You’re the only one I know who’s getting a ninety-five in bio. The teacher fucking loved your poster on those weird frog things.”
“The poison dart frog? Those are cool. I always went to their exhibit at the nature museum with my brother. You can get them as wooden toys with a stick. They sound like the actual frog.”
“Pfft, the nature museum. You’re such a loser, Jen. Ah—since you mentioned him, how is that dude, anyways? Mr. Beautiful.”
“Joshua?”
“Mmhm.”
Okay, this has to be your exit. Even just hearing his name feels like a tiny scalpel running the length of your heart. It’s been months and that chapter has closed. You’ve sutured your own cuts and moved on.
“He’s doing pretty good.”
Wait, pretty good? You paused. Pretty good, how?
“Uh, classes are fun. He really likes his roommate. Remember Jeonghan? He’s got an apartment with him. Life’s good for that idiot.”
No—what the hell are you doing? You don’t care!
“Okay, nice. Has he gone to any like, crazy parties? Everyone says the parties at uni are unmissable and you’re guaranteed to eat an edible without even knowing it. I’m not sure if that’s good, though.”
“Uh, yeah. He’s been to a few.”
Is it just you or did someone slick this part of the floor with glue?
“Got a girlfriend yet? I wouldn’t be surprised with those daydreamy eyes of his and the deceivingly angelic voice.”
Your breath stilled, lungs contracting, nerves simmering. Jennie hadn’t answered yet. It felt like time was viscous and nearly unmoving. At first, she chuckled, sliding a book back onto the shelf until it clicked.
“A girlfriend? Don’t think so. And never say those things again.”
In one gigantic exhale, the air gushed out your nose. If not for the bell startling you into reality, you might have slid down against the shelf due to anxiety, melted into a puddle even for the janitor to scrub away.
Something inside you had embarrassingly given.
It could not happen again.
Your fork sliced into the edge of orange, mashed sweet potato until it clinked against the plate, stainless steel scraping porcelain as you dragged it up and set the prongs onto your tongue. Chan was cutting rosemary asparagus in half to your left, keeping his eyes fixed on the stalks that were glimmery in butter and sauce. Picking up her wine glass, your mother took a slow, savoury sip. She watched the both of you.
Dinner was always so fucking awkward. Your mother had insisted she throw something together despite the fact she’d come straight home from work, still confined to her button-tight blouse and knee-length pencil skirt she hated, stalking around the kitchen in her clicky heels. She had met Chan once or twice before, though he never stayed for dinner. It was her opportunity to finally pin him in place, and it was going horribly.
Maybe it was weird to think, but some people just weren’t good with mothers—not purposefully or accidentally or by unimaginative curse, but in a way that was rather ignorant. Everyone’s house was their house, and unfortunately, that was Chan. If you had known this was her plan, you would have dragged him upstairs, pushed him down in your swivel-back chair, flipped around the for-emphasis chalkboard and instructed him on exactly what not to do. Yet, there hadn’t been the opportunity for that.
“So, any ideas for college or university? A gap year maybe to secure some money? I know that you’re very interested in performance and theatre.”
“Oh, yeah,” Chan agreed, bits of green flashing in his teeth as he spoke with a full mouth, “I want to be like, a really amazing dance teacher, but work my way up to it doing tons of gigs—,” he paused to chug a gulp of water, “and um, I don’t know. I want to be like Usher or something.”
“Really?” Your mother remarked, her wine glass settling onto the coaster with a light thud. “Usher? I guess he’s more your generation.”
“Yeah, probably,” Chan answered, also placing his cup back on the table, completely missing the coaster, “there’s this one song I really love, it goes like—”
Oh no. You braced a palm against your forehead, hardly watching from the edge of your vision as Chan sat up straight and pitched his hand.
“Shorty got down and said “come and get me”, yeah, yeah, I got so caught up, I forgot she told me, yeah, yeah, her and my girl, used to be the best of homies, next thing I knew, she was all up on me scream—”
You grabbed onto his arm, disguising it as a sincere, thoughtful touch despite your nails teething down on his skin.
“That was really great. Thank you, babe.”
“Well, I just—I hadn’t got to the rest of it yet.”
“No, I know,” your nails clawed a little deeper, “that’s fine.”
It was best to stop him before he entered a whole performance number in your dining room, to which you could picture him tripping over his own feet and tearing a photo frame off the wall, or elbowing the fine china teapot that had been a gift from your grandmother. He didn’t have the best spatial awareness, or awareness of anything, really. Your mother was sitting back, smiling, one leg folded over the other with her head in a slight tilt that seemed deceivingly warm and intrigued. She wasn’t going to say it, but she didn’t have to. Chan was below your standards.
“You know, that’s good.” She pointed a finger at him. “I’d love to see the full routine one day. You’ve got that…” she swirled her hands around as though she were clearing a crystal ball, “that star factor. Very cool.”
“Thank you.” Chan grinned, setting his elbows onto the table where he then hiccupped quietly into his hands (it was more of a belch, but you were admittedly trying to water down how insensible he was in even your own mind).
If wizards were real, you were dying for one to zap you with the end of their wand, preferably into a pile of sparkly ashes.
Somehow, dinner came to an end. While Chan excused himself for a bathroom break, you stood at the sink with your mother, dutifully polishing the forks she’d set into the dry rack. It was silent for a minute or two. At least her heels were finally off, though bits of hair from that slicked updo were beginning to tickle her face while she scrubbed away at the plate. You really didn’t want to discuss what happened anyway. But after you organized the cutlery into the drawer, your mother gave you a look that felt loaded as she let the soapy water drain.
Well, here we go.
“You know, I don’t dislike him as much as you think I do. There’s definitely character. He’s just… far below you, in my opinion. And I wish I could say I understand why you’re dating him, but I don’t.”
Opting to stay silent, you wiped down the puddles around the sink.
“I won’t throw up all my inklings onto you now, especially when I know the kid’s down the hall, doing God knows what—and I can tell by this little shoulders-buckled, lip-tight thing you’re doing that you don’t wanna talk about it. Gosh… at least we’ve got leftovers for tomorrow.”
“Mmhm.” You hummed, just to acknowledge you’d heard her.
“Oh, you know who I liked? That brother, the brother of that girl you used to be best friends with. Jennie and… J-something. They both had names with J’s. Their mother is in such better shape than me. Help me out here. I know damn well that counter’s dry by now.”
Crossing your arms, you rolled the very corner of the dish towel between your thumb and pointer finger, feeling his name rise along the back of your throat like it was being summoned out, against your will.
“Joshua.”
“Yes! Him! I adored that one. I always thought he liked you, too.”
“Mom! I don’t think we should be talking about this.”
“It’s true! I mean, he drove you home from school all the time. He always bought you things. And he had these eyes that were just… he looked at you different, so deeply, like he truly cared about you. I just—I know he’s older, two years or something, but I felt safe whenever you said you were with him. I kept waiting for him to come here for dinner.”
“I said we shouldn’t be talking about this and you’re talking about it!”
“Okay well I—”
The bathroom door squeaked open from down the corridor.
Both of you sealed your mouths shut.
It was 10pm, and Chan was asleep at your side, the two of you miraculously cramped onto the twin size bed shoved against the wall with the sheets pulled a generous amount onto his half. Not that you cared. It was warm in your bedroom, and the heat from your hard backs pressed together was making you slightly sweaty. To feel uncomfortable in your own home was one thing—but in your own bedroom? The place you had perfectly cultivated over the years to always feel comfortable? Part of you wanted to crawl out from your own skin like that was something humans did. Chan was a great friend. Maybe it should have stayed like that.
Or, maybe it was just late, and you were too warm to think with clarity.
Wedging out your phone from beneath the quilt, you took a cautious peak over your shoulder, only to see the dark, dim outline of Chan’s shoulder bone digging into yours. Then, you turned back to your phone.
Instagram. That was usually what you did when you couldn’t sleep. A filtered and superficial glance into the very uninteresting lives of people who thought they were interesting was certain to make you tired.
A picture of Seungkwan with his empty script book.
Oh, there’s Seokmin eating ice cream with his girlfriend.
Marina? Since when did you follow her? Apparently, you did. Probably when you thought it was still possible to mesh yourself into her friendship with Jennie and become the triplet friend group everyone was envious of. Except you strongly disliked Marina. And Jennie hated you.
You two still followed each other.
@jennie.hg commented on @marinascapilatti’s photo: “HOT. SMOULDERING. FUCKING SEXY AS FUCK.”
@marinascapilatti replied to @jennie.hg: “LMAO. love you sm babe!!”
For some reason, you clicked on Jennie’s profile. Thumbing to the bottom, you realized she hadn’t removed the old pictures of you two together, even if they were from two or more years ago. Jennie had never been one to constantly delete pictures and reshape her account as she got older. She liked the memories. The beauty of an archive. Letting people know exactly who she had been because that was never a concern to her.
You opened a picture she had posted on your birthday three years ago.
@jennie.hg: a lot of u ppl know this girl. she’s my best friend or something. since sixth grade. it’s her birthday. so if you don’t wish her a happy birthday then you’re dead to me and you suck! xo.
That day, people you had never spoke to more than once or twice said happy birthday to you in the halls, or in the lunch line, on the way into your next class, even in the washroom. You decided to look at more comments on the picture, pausing on one in particular.
@joshua_hong_1230: it’s your birthday? happy birthday!:)
Fuck. Were you really about to do this? With your boyfriend asleep beside you, so close that he was crushing you into the wall?
A deep, deep sigh.
Yes.
First, you had to unblock him, convincing yourself it would only be for a moment or two as you quickly gleaned his account (out of curiosity and definitely not the emotion tugging your heart in a very sensitive direction). Pressing onto the most recent picture, you bit your lip.
404 likes. 51 comments. @joshua_hong_1230: clink.
Him and his university friends crowded around a restaurant table, half-emptied glasses of alcohol and dinner plates everywhere. You only recognized Jeonghan who was right beside Joshua in the photo. On his other side, a girl you had never seen before. She was leaning into him closely, her hair tousled in pretty, effortless manner that somehow reminded you of Elsie. Continuing down the rabbit hole, you opened her profile. Her name was Daphne. She was in biomed. Cute sundresses that hugged her shape in all the right places glowing from her feed.
As much as you wanted to believe you were genuinely interested in this Daphne girl’s life, you weren’t. What you really wanted to know was obvious. In fact, it slapped you in the face, filled you with shame and embarrassment and now you were stuffing your phone beneath the cold side of the pillow hoping it would disappear.
Stop thinking about him.
Stop comparing yourself to everyone in his life.
Valentine’s Day seemed to come out of nowhere. One minute you were scalding your tongue with the taste of disgustingly hot cocoa, attempting to stick together a gingerbread house using prayers and pastry icing, and peeking between your blinds at the carollers who were singing the loudest version of Silent Night that you’d ever heard. But then you had blinked, and suddenly everything was pink. Roses were being sold in the front foyer (you specifically told Chan not to purchase one because you knew that under your care, it would wilt in a week) and the number of cinnamon hearts you’d smelled on people’s breath was almost concerning. Not to mention the Stupid Cupid Dance was tonight.
At first, you didn’t want to go. Most memories you recalled of the dance were actually quite pleasant, though Jennie had still been your best friend then, and jumping around manically with her while student council showered the crowd with candy grams eased the sting of not being with him. However, Chan was oddly passionate about going. He didn’t swoon to your idea of staying home with a movie and some cheap sugar cookies. In fact, he even offered to accompany you with your dress shopping, though you both got insanely bored halfway through the process and decided to play games at the arcade instead. The best outfit you could muster was a long, oversized dress shirt with a stylish belt to wrap around the waist, alongside some thigh-high pink socks.
It was… definitely something.
The dance was roughly two hours away. You were lounging across your bed, twirling a cherry-flavoured sucker against the inside of your cheek. Chan was sitting on the floor, still trying to fix his tie.
“Do you want me to look up a tutorial or something?” You asked in a bored tone, temple feeling sore from leaning against your fist.
With his tongue curling against his lip, Chan declined. “No, no, think I’ve almost got it… just gotta slip it up and under and… there!”
You could hardly choke out a lukewarm congratulations as you completely spread out across the bed sheets, blinking up the ceiling with the sticky taste of cherry on your lips. Chan edged off the floor and sat beside you, prompting you to raise your head onto his lap.
“Dunno if it’s a good thing to bring up, but your mood is a little… it’s not doing too great, babe. Is there anything I can do?”
Obviously, you wanted to skip the dance. It’s not that you believed it would be unenjoyable with Chan—he did have the tendency to wander and was easily absorbed into conversations with friends, almost exiling you to stand there stiltedly the entire time—but other than that, he was a fantastic dancer and you loved watching him (you had never once danced with him at a party because you felt more like a hindrance to his spotlight). Besides, the gym was only so big, and since Jeonghan had graduated there was no one else at the school to host blow-out parties.
“What if we just didn’t go?” You mumbled around the sucker.
“Uh—no! We have to! Seungkwan’s gonna meet us there.”
“I know, I know. But we can do something fun that’s not the Stupid Cupid Dance! Like, um—we could—there’s always—how about we go the river? It’ll be a little chilly but we can bring our jackets. I think fresh air is what I need. You could teach me to skip rocks.”
Chan’s hand fell into your hair. It felt sympathetic.
“Skip rocks? What makes you think I can do that?”
Pushing yourself up, you groaned, “I don’t know, Chan. I just don’t want to go. Can we make a compromise at least?”
Your boyfriend paused for a moment, slumping against the wall and pursing his lips like he was tediously wracking his brain.
“We can stay for two hours. Then we can go to the river and throw rocks, or whatever it was—the thing you just said.”
“Yes, thank you, thank you!”
He seemed surprised at how ecstatic you behaved, his hands rather delayed as they climbed up to your hips, responding to the hug you had draped him in. You pressed a kiss against his cheek, then a swift one to his mouth, knowing he could taste the cherry and how sweet it was.
“The song—the song, they’re changing the song!”
“Yeah, I know, I can hear it—”
“Can you hold this? And this? And my phone—last time it flung out of my pocket and I got big crack in my screen protector.”
“No, Chan—can you wait? It’s almost time to go—”
“I promised that I would do this dance with Seungkwan!”
“So you’re leaving me alone?”
“No, no, no—just—it will be fun! And I’m really good at the dance for this song. Watch me and you’ll see. Thanks, babe! You’re the best!”
“The promise you made to Seungkwan,” you sagged, attempting to hold his suit jacket, drink, and phone all in one severely cramping hand, “what about the promise you made to me?” Walking over to the bench in the gym corner, you set all his possessions down one at a time, gritting your teeth. “I love how much I matter to you, babe.”
You squinted at the exit across the room and attempted to maneuver your way toward it, twisting and wriggling and tiptoeing around everyone until this girl had stepped backward into your way. She flicked a straight curtain of hair over her shoulder and you smelled tart perfume—almost nauseating—as she talked with her friend.
“I feel like these parties were so much better when they weren’t school-sanctioned! No one in student council is stepping up. Why do all the seniors suck this year? Where is everyone with surgeon parents?”
“I know. People were moving the tiles in the girl’s washroom at lunch so they could put Vodka bottles up there. It was so funny.”
“Someone will snitch and they’ll make us do the breathalyser thing—no way they’re doing that to me! It’s like, my right or something.”
“Hey guys, pardon me, I’m going that way.”
“You’re going where?”
“That way, to the exit.”
“You’re trying to leave? Are you going to the washroom? They make you write down your name, y’know, on this clipboard, and they time you. Isn’t that fucking stupid? Like, if you take an extra minute to piss or open a tampon, they’re going to call your parents.”
“Um, that’s—”
“Like, ouuu, I’m so scared. Hey, are you rich by any chance? Not even rich—just like, you’re moderately above average and it’s likely that you have an inground pool? Or, you know someone who is rich?”
“I don’t, sorry…”
“Fuck—it’s whatever.”
“Can you move now? I’m leaving.”
“Oh, yeah—sorry. But you heard the thing I said right, about the washrooms and the clipboard? I hope you’re not going piss!”
Her and her friend were now too far behind you for a response to be meaningful. Your head was throbbing, almost like there was gun powder sitting in your skull instead of a brain, awaiting the flare to thunderously ignite. You tried to slink past the vending machines on your way out, hoping to be inconspicuous and unimportant.
“Uh—excuse me, young lady. I can’t let you walk out. It’s a little loud but I know you hear me.” The teacher started waggling her finger.
“Sorry.”
“Where are you going? Washroom? You’ll need to write your name down on this clipboard as well as the time. I know students have been complaining about this, but it’s a rule and no one is exempt.”
“No, I don’t need the washroom. My head hurts.”
“At least four other girls have told me that, then I saw them all together with this big bottle, stumbling around the track field when I was supervising. Just hold on a moment, I’ll radio a teacher to go with you outside. That way you can get some fresh air, and we know you’re not up to anything that’s against the rules. Can I have your name?”
“Is it for the clipboard?”
“Yes… I have a pencil—here.”
“Well… I don’t need someone to go with me outside.”
“It’s the rule. We need to keep track of all students.”
“I don’t have any alcohol. Or cigarettes.”
“I understand that, but—hey! Hey! You are not allowed to go anywhere unless—young lady, this is not okay!”
You heard the blip on her walkie-talkie as she attempted to alert some other teacher. She’d been following you to the doorway at the front of the school, though she stopped the second you were outside, picking up your pace until you were almost sprinting away from her. It was hardly rebellious—in your eyes, you saw it as less than pathetic. You had decided to turn cheek and flee from her like you had been sent to your room.
Chan wasn’t anywhere close to the boyfriend you had been convincing yourself he was. You didn’t even take his phone or dump his things on the floor or break up with him in the middle of the dance floor as some sort of hedonistic, petty revenge that wouldn’t bare any significance a year from now. Everything had felt so colourless and dull lately. You couldn’t tell if it was your own fault or not.
Balancing your feet at the very edge of the curb, you wondered why February had to be such an awful month. Nothing good had happened since it started. And now it was chilly and wet and dark outside, with big lumps of grey, dirt-speckled snow spilling hideously all over the place. You had left your jacket inside. The thinness of your long dress-shirt let the cold prick you like little razors, and you were beyond tired at pulling up those thigh-high socks which kept shrinking down your legs. February felt like it was asking to be punched in the face.
It seemed like just yesterday you were standing in this exact spot, beside Jennie, squinching through the brightness of a summer sky. You remembered waiting for her brother to appear around the corner in his silver car, his stereo vibrating with different songs each time, the interior smelling like mint gum and foam cleaner. Hansol was always in the front seat, sticking his hand out the window, singing confidently into the oncoming breeze with the boxiest grin on his face. You remembered the intense nervousness you felt accidentally catching Joshua’s eye in the rear-view mirror—how your fingers curled from the anxiety.
The air was too cold for you to stand still. Once a shudder wracked along your arms, you decided to keep walking, kicking a pebble that had melted out from another mushy pile of snow. Upon reaching the end of the sidewalk, extremely bright lights flooded behind you and the pebble was somehow swallowed up. An engine was guzzling heavy at your side and you contemplated crossing the street despite the pixelated red hand glaring at you. Then, you heard a window roll down.
“Are you the type of girl I can p—”
“I’m seventeen,” you interrupted, refusing to acknowledge the man who was eyeing you a little too excitedly from inside his vehicle.
“Well, I have a nice warm truck right here, in case you want to hop inside if you need a ride anywhere. I can unlock the door for ‘ya.”
“I said I’m seventeen.”
“I’ve seen lots of women like you when I wa—”
“I’m not a woman, I’m a teenager.”
You looked at him once through the inky shadows and saw that merely the outline of his face was visible, with slight glints hollowing what you suspected were his eyes. Something in your chest wobbled. The second the walking-man appeared, you hurried across the street with your thumbs tucked deeply into your fists. Too afraid to continue home alone, you swung into the corner store with the spring-painted overhang you had loved so much in your past, pretending to need something. You paused at the slushie machine—the greatest contributor to all your after-school brain freezes and headaches. An ‘out of order’ sign was taped to the glass. From the peeled, slightly stained edges of the paper, you assumed no one had bothered stopping by to repair it in months.
There wasn’t anything you could buy anyways. Joshua had always bought you a drink or a bag of mostly-air packaged chips when you stopped here—either that or he would give you something he bought for himself. At times you would sit beneath the overhang together, bracing through salt and vinegar flavoured chips that stung the soft, cushioned inside of your mouths, drinking soda, throwing the little stones at your feet. For the first time in a long while, you admitted it.
You missed him.
When the clerk disappeared underneath the counter to dislodge another magazine he had most likely read for the hundredth time, you slipped out the door delicately. You then removed your phone from its very convenient spot (tucked between your bra, obviously). For a moment, you studied the number that you had once blocked in the dusk of summer—certain it would never be touched again no matter how much you could be hurting, crying, or grieving the pieces of love you had somehow lost along the way. And you stayed true to that certainty. You didn’t unblock Joshua’s number, rather you just tempted yourself with the idea of it, like smelling a piece of cake but never taking a bite.
Of course, it was unsatisfying. But you pretended it wasn’t.
The river had to be nearby, the sort of thing you could always tell was getting closer and closer because the water sounded like busy wind in tree leaves. It started appearing over a distant crest, which you eventually came to pause at, staring down unto the bank and its large slabs of rock that were now frosted with snow. This was the place you were supposed to be with Chan—if he hadn’t completely ignored your compromise. The fact he wasn’t texting you, worried sick or even an inch concerned, engendered you to think you weren’t really anything to him at all. He didn’t want to be tethered by a girlfriend, that was obvious.
You stared for a little longer, growing colder and stiffer, tracing the places you stood when Joshua had been showing you how to skip stones. But then you started hearing footsteps crunch in the snow, and as you squinted down the bank, you sucked in a dry, freezing breath.
“Jennie!” Your voice cracked. “What the hell are you doing?!”
The girl stopped abruptly, and her shoes sunk awkwardly into the snow, her face visibly flushed in the street lights shining down on the shore. She seemed almost embarrassed to be caught by you, though it should have been the other way around, considering your last words to her were about her older brother rejecting you whilst sat on his lap.
“I’m walking to the corner store!” Jennie shouted back, burying herself deeper into the brown coat draped over her shoulders.
“Why?!”
“Why does it matter?!”
“… Uh, I dunno!”
“If you keep yelling, you’ll start an avalanche somewhere!”
“You’re yelling too!”
Somehow, you successfully managed your way down the riverbank without slipping on a hidden piece of ice. Jennie huffed as you approached her, shaking snow clumps off her sneaker.
“Why don’t you just take the sidewalk?” You asked.
It felt inconceivably strange to look at her face this directly after the fight—to gauge the slow unfurling of maturity in her cheekbones and jawline—to realize how tall she suddenly was—even her impressively long hair which surrounded her like a rippling, black sea. She took a moment before answering, leading you to believe she had studied your face as well. The thought made you uncomfortable yet pleased.
“Why are you dressed like a Dollar Store hooker?”
You couldn’t help but guffaw at that—her humour hadn’t evolved much.
“I went to the Stupid Cupid Dance.”
“Oh—that.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Uh… I don’t know,” Jennie shrugged, her eyes drifting along the dark expanses behind you, “I didn’t have anyone to go with.”
“You don’t need a date—”
“No—like, I know that. I don’t have any… friends, I mean.”
“That’s not true. I see you with people all the time. You’re popular as shit. What about Marina? Is she sick?”
“No. We haven’t been talking lately. I don’t think I missed out on anything, anyways. You already left, and by the looks of it, the dance was so bad you didn’t even want to stay to get your jacket. I don’t know how you’re not freezing your tits off. I’m cold, and I have a coat.”
“Yeah, I am cold, but I didn’t wanna go straight home ‘cause this weirdo pulled up beside me at the crosswalk. I was actually supposed to come here with Chan—he clearly had other things that mattered more.”
“Your boyfriend’s kinda lame.”
“Okay—yes, you’re right. Ouch, though.”
“I mean, you tend to like lame guys—my brother, for example.”
The nausea in your stomach dropped. It was a very sickly swirling of butterflies and the slight urge to vomit onto the snow, though you tacked a smile upon your face that definitely wasn’t as soft as you thought. Jennie then blew a strand of hair from her eyes, beginning to shake her head at you. It seemed that she wasn’t bitter, just confused.
“Well, he rejected me,” you stated simply.
She huffed in a gloomy breath, “I know.”
It was quiet again.
“I don’t like him anymo—”
“Oh—just stop, okay?” Jennie exhaled deeply through her teeth, and her gaze burned into yours like a flaming arrow. “I always suspected you had a crush on him. I don’t care anymore. I just wanted reasons to be mad at you since we were growing apart, and there wasn’t even a good explanation for it. I thought if I made up a reason to just—I don’t know—hate you, then it would make me feel better about us. We aren’t friends anymore and that’s fine. That’s what happens. That’s life.”
You struggled to swallow. It felt like the cold air had somehow frozen your throat, and now you could only stare at Jennie, speechless.
“He was so angry at me,” the girl continued, brushing something wet and shiny from her pink-stained cheek, “when I finally cracked and told him about our fight. I mean, he’s been like, ‘mad’ before, but never angry. Until then. Almost yelling at me—just, a bunch of emotion all over his face and stuff. I knew he was in love with you. He never wanted to say it, but he didn’t have to—like I said, he’s lame.”
For some reason, you couldn’t help chuckling.
“Oh yeah, he loves me—like a friend.”
“He just didn’t want to pressure you.”
“Jennie, I was in your brother’s fucking lap, kissing him. He didn’t pressure me at all. And he said something like, ‘I can’t do this, I shouldn’t do this’, and he didn’t even try to stop me from leaving. How could I have made it any clearer I wanted him?”
“Okay—well! My brother is an idiot, then! I don’t know what else to tell you—he got cold feet, he was worried about a long-distance relationship, it all felt too soon, he wasn’t sure how I’d react—I don’t know what he was thinking. I just know he had feelings for you, and if I somehow interfered and ruined it for you two, I’m sorry. But at this point, I don’t care what happens. I honestly never did. Just don’t pretend that you’re not still in love with him ‘cause you think I’ll be mad about it.”
After a tired, musing sigh, you broke off from her eyes and stared across the river, rubbing at your cheeks that were numb and stiff. It was then you realized how fucking insufferably cold you were, to which Jennie unzipped her long brown coat, gesturing for you to huddle beside her underneath it. You didn’t hesitate—not even for a second.
“It’s atrocious out here,” she breathed unsteadily into the lashing wind, “my house is closer than yours. You can warm up there.”
“Didn’t you need to go to the convenience store?”
You heard the smile she fought to supress as she huffed, “I lied. I was just taking a walk. I don’t know why I lied about that.”
“When it’s this cold?”
“Shut up! You have no room to talk right now.”
“I know, I know. But, really—you could have just stayed home.”
With a secure grip on her far shoulder, you both made baby steps up the riverbank, back toward the street. Jennie clutched your waist.
“I’m tired of being at home. I don’t have anything to do there.”
You giggled, “why not watch a movie? Or play a video game?”
“It’s not fun by yourself.”
“Well, we should do that—watch a movie or something. I wanted to stay home, anyways. And we can make big mugs of hot chocolate.”
“I think we have marshmallows,” Jennie said while smiling.
For some reason, you thought you could cry. There seemed to be a distant, swelling sting pressing at the back of your eyes, enough for you to sniffle and thickly swallow, though the tears never actually fell. It was just… nice… to talk with Jennie again. She was the one part of your life that you believed would always stick, and having her slip so rapidly from between your fingers had been a tough knife in your back. You weren’t positive if after tonight things would still be this cordial. Maybe you two would wake up again, knowing there was nothing left but dust in all the cracks and crevices of your friendship. It was impossible to say.
Right now, however, she was the person you needed most.
You sensed it was the same for her.
Joshua came home at the beginning of June.
A little less than a year had passed since you last saw him at his graduation party—the day responsible for birthing your abruptly decided choice to weed him from your life. It was easier to commit to such an extremity knowing he was hundreds of kilometers away. Yet, that didn’t mean it was easy exiling him. How were you supposed to forgot about someone who spent the last five years comfortably burrowing in your head and heart? And—right when you thought it was possible to finally cut the remaining wire, he pulled back into the Hong driveway in that silver bullet car like he’d never left. As easy as a cool breeze.
You were walking to the corner store that day, knowing they had a help wanted sign currently hanging in their window. It seemed like a simple gig, it’s just that you wouldn’t be allowed to ring up cigarettes, lottery tickets or beer. Passing Joshua and Jennie’s house was almost inevitable, though you had officially accepted the portrait of their driveway without that silvery, shiny car. So, when you casually flicked your head left to glimpse their house across the street, you were stunned and even horrified to see the vehicle once erased from your thoughts.
It was reversed into the driveway. The trunk was popped open, and judging by their open garage, someone was lugging suitcases into the house. You didn’t move for a solid minute. Instead, you watched the trunk, as you swore that someone was digging through it. And then you saw a hand touch the top edge, running along its chrome embellishment before beginning to slam it down. You knew it was Joshua before you even saw the person’s face—he had very particular ways of doing things. At first, he didn’t notice you while adjusting the duffle bag strapped over his shoulder and the backpack hanging off his other arm. The lanyard to his car keys was cutely dangling from his mouth.
His eyes impetuously scanned the street, whisking over you like the dull detail nobody was moved enough to highlight—until something about him jerked and suddenly he was squinting directly at you. He slowly took the car keys from his mouth, continuing to observe you from across the street, most likely attempting to fill in the differences of your face and figure—decide if it was even you, he was squinching at.
Immediately, you felt sick to your stomach.
Every single emotion, thought, and feeling came stampeding back through your bones and your skin and your blood. It was almost suffocating—like witnessing a tidal wave of your own secrets looming so far above that you needed to crane your neck to find where it stopped. In your next breath, you were walking away, refusing to look back.
The worst part was feeling Joshua watch you.
The worst, worst part was knowing you weren’t any less in love with him than before he left.
[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: if ur heading to the house now I prob won’t be home for another half hour. stupid dentist appointment!! >:(
[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: do you not have a drill in ur mouth rn?
[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: you’re being such an irresponsible patient!!
[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: she left the room. and I like the drill.
[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: weirdo alert
[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: RUDE!!!
[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: see u soon <3 garage door should be open
[ _____ | 2:15 pm ]: okay! byebye <3
You slid the phone back into your shorts pocket, continuing down the sidewalk with one eye pierced shut. The sun was beaming on you so intensely that you felt the warm sting along your arms and legs, and there was probably a sweaty shine brighter than the north star reflecting off your forehead. Sometimes summer was insufferable. It felt like there was nothing you could do to cool down. There better be ice cream in the fridge, you thought, or a whole package of popsicles. As you drew nearer to the house, you saw that the garage door was indeed open. Then you started walking hurriedly into their driveway.
It was too goddamn hot out.
“Yeah, I’ll try that next… Mmhm… I thought it went the other way?... No—the other, other way… Dude? Are you fucking stupid?... I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean it… Never mind Jeonghan, I meant it.”
Oh no. Joshua wasn’t supposed to be at home today. His car wasn’t in the driveway, so you hadn’t anticipated marching straight into this astonishingly awkward predicament. You forgot about the old couch they kept in their garage. Jennie used to quip and demand for Joshua to play his guitar there since she couldn’t stand the noise of him railing on the chords. He was speaking to someone on the phone—Jeonghan, his roommate—though he was wearing his earbuds so Joshua hadn’t heard you come in. For a snap-instant, you contemplated turning the other way and making a very understandable sprint back home.
“Okay, just send me the chord progression you’re thinking of then… Oh? Wait, I have my guitar, listen to this… Good, right?... If there’s tweaks then—yeah, yeah, exactly… Just send me it and I’ll—”
Well, it was too late for that, anyway. Joshua had finally noticed you standing like some ghostly apparition who definitely thought they were invisible by the garage threshold. His eyes widened in shock, and you couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile as he attempted to push his roommate off the phone. You sighed, walking toward him slowly.
“I have to go—‘cause, I do!... No I would never do that, I really need to go, though… Send-me-the-chord-progression-okay-bye!” He chucked the last sentence together so quickly it sounded like one word and proceeded to pull out his earbuds.
You had no idea what to do, what to say, or how to piece together an expression on your face that wasn’t strained. He cleared off the coffee table of its old magazines and thick newspapers, to which you sat down across from him with clammy hands clutching your shorts and the largest lump in your throat. God—you hadn’t seen his face in nearly a year, and what a beautiful face he had. His hair was the slightest bit copperier, like it had been sun-kissed, and his skin seemed to have tanned as well. Even his cheeks had maturely sharpened out. You had trouble staring at him, especially his eyes, because you knew exactly how they made you feel—it was a drink of something warm and sweet and glimmery.
“So…” Joshua started to lean back, plucking a few soft strings on his guitar, “I’m still blocked, y’know? Just in case you forgot.”
“I haven’t,” you reminded him in an instant, trying inconceivably hard not to let the dopiest fucking smirk take over your face.
“You hate me?”
“No.”
“Do you want to hate me?”
“What’s the point of this?” Discretely rubbing off your palms, you managed to lock eyes with him, though only for a second.
Joshua shrugged, quirking his head at you.
“I’m trying to figure out why I’m still blocked.”
“Because I needed to get you… out.”
“Out of what?” He chuckled. “Your life?”
His question, you didn’t answer. These weren’t exactly things you wanted to admit aloud, let alone to the face of the person who was the subject. It seemed embarrassing, and maybe it shouldn’t be—maybe you should just own how you felt during those moments because you deserved the chance to finally just breathe. Stop holding things so tight until they popped into an explosion like the fight with Jennie.
“Yes,” you sighed after the brief silence, “I was hurt, and I was angry, and I didn’t want to sit in those feelings. That’s it.”
Joshua nodded, “because of what I said to you that day.”
“Essentially, yeah.”
You weren’t sure if he was going to apologize again. It hadn’t done him any good the last time, so you assumed he wouldn’t bother. For a moment, you contemplated asking him about what Jennie had told you that night at the river, when she revealed that he supposedly loved you.
Nothing ever left your mouth. The timing wasn’t right.
“So, do I get unblocked or not?” Joshua huffed.
Your feet crossed shyly. “Um, I’ll think about it… how’s school?”
“Uh, it has its ups and downs, highs and lows. I’m guessing you didn’t come here to ask about that. Jennie’s not home until later.”
“I know. She’s at the dentist.”
Joshua smiled, sitting up straighter and setting his guitar aside.
“Well, I’m glad you two patched it up. That doesn’t always happen. Not that there’s anything wrong with drifting away. I wasn’t sure if Hansol and I would keep talking. He’s in South Korea right now.”
“I heard, from Jennie.”
“Yeah,” the boy sighed, “they text and stuff.”
“Are you bothered by that?”
“No…?” Joshua replied ambiguously, scratching his head. “I haven’t decided yet. Hansol is cool, anyways. I’m not worried. But what about you? How’s your life been since I hit the city?”
At that, you leaned back against the coffee table and laughed, covering your mouth with a nervous hand. Upon first glance, it had been a boring yet deleterious mess—convincing yourself that you were happier and better off despite the very conspicuous hole suckling like a whirlpool in your chest. But if you looked a little deeper, it had been a journey of acknowledging said mess. You didn’t know how to explain it to Joshua.
“It was interesting.”
“Really? That’s all I get? I think you’re skirting the question.”
“Obviously,” you giggled again, “it’s a long story and not one you’d want to hear right now. I’ll tell you some other time.”
“Fine,” he succumbed, shoving his hands in his pockets, “did you get a boyfriend? Is that why you don’t wanna say anything?”
The heat engulfed you instantly, almost as though you were back outside and suffering under the density of those sun rays. The relationship with Chan had ended after the dance. He was utterly confused about the reasons why, prompting you to feel a bit of pity as you broke up him with him on his porch the next morning. Joshua tilted his head curiously, something a little playful and glinting in his eyes.
“I had a boyfriend,” you answered simply, almost whispered.
He started grinning, moving into an engaged position with his elbows on his knees. You quivered subtly at the closeness.
“Of course. Who?”
“Just, someone from my grade,” you prevaricated.
The boy’s gaze had fixed on you indefinitely.
“Who?”
“Someone.”
He gripped your shoulders—“Who?!”
You were burning up, and pushed him back—“Someone!”
Joshua collapsed against the couch, beginning to cross his arms while making a tsking sound with his teeth. The urge to excitably laugh hadn’t left the back of your throat, and you couldn’t stop mumbling around it as Joshua furrowed his brow at you. Having him touch you so suddenly struck a match. Your feelings hadn’t subsided in the slightest.
“I don’t think it’s important who. And, besides, you don’t deserve to know right now. We broke up back in February.”
“So, I don’t get to just know things about you now?” He asked, melting further down the couch. “I have to earn it?”
“Mmhm.”
He smirked, “fair enough… why’d you break up with him?”
“I didn’t say that I broke up with him.”
“Okay,” Joshua shrugged, losing his transient half-smile, “but we all know you did. Why? He didn’t treat you well enough, yeah?”
Your hands clenched together, pressing uncomfortably.
“We can talk about it later… what about you? Girlfriend?”
“No.”
You raised your brow and decided to poke at him, “wow—even with those eyes? Or does your sweetheart act not cut it anymore? Have you resorted to drugs, Joshua? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
“Oh, you’re so fucking funny,” he pretended to laugh while pushing his sneaker gently against your knee, “I just didn’t want one.”
Suddenly, your phone buzzed. Taking it out from your pocket, you saw that Jennie had sent a text about how she was heading home now. You swallowed tautly, glancing up at Joshua who seemed to realize what the vibration was. He looked rather disappointed, and you felt it deep in your gut too. There was so much more to talk about and joke about and this little sliver of time in the cool, shady garage had whipped past in a mere blink. But at least there was more transparency. Jennie knew and there was no reason to play coy. The whole summer and all its vibrance was still at your feet. You didn’t have to rush anything.
“It was nice catching up with you,” Joshua said, pulling the guitar back onto his lap, “shoot me a text whenever you decide to unblock me.”
“You won’t ignore me? Even with your big fancy university lifestyle now? Greasy takeout and bags of coins for the laundromat?”
“Never,” he smiled, winking casually, “by the way—”
Turning around in the doorway, you tilted your head at him.
“You look really pretty.”
18.
Joshua’s October reading week was nearly over—he’d be packing his suitcases tomorrow morning and escorted back into the city alongside some help from his father. You’d been invited over to their house for sushi night, to which you were currently fighting Jennie off with your chopsticks for the last yam tempura roll. She decided to let you have it, muttering something along the lines of, only because you’re the guest.
It had been roughly three years since your last dinner at their house, and while it was a bit nerve-wracking, you relaxed continuously throughout the night (which could be also attributed to the saké that Mrs. Hong let you pour a decent-sized cup of). Jennie slipped back into the dining room once she grabbed a soda can from the fridge, leaving you alone in the kitchen to decide between the last fried wonton or vegetable spring roll. You sighed, pinching your chopsticks in thought.
“Save room for dessert, y’know? They gave us ice cream.”
Joshua approached the sink, rinsing off his plate and emptied glass under the water. He’d drank more from that saké bottle than you, indicated by the peach-pink glow traversing his cheeks.
“I know, but I’m greedy. I haven’t eaten sushi in forever.”
He came beside you (who still couldn’t decide) and opened one of the drawers to remove some spoons for the ice cream. Joshua then proceeded to pick up the last golden-fried wonton with your chopsticks and dropped it onto your plate. You gaped at him as he nudged a quick kiss against your temple, watching the boy now pull open the freezer.
“I hadn’t made up my mind yet!”
Joshua shrugged, “now you don’t have to. The wonton is good, anyway. It’s got this slightly sweet cream cheese filling.”
“Blah, blah.”
Mrs. Hong entered the kitchen, exchanging a few words between you and Joshua while she cleaned her dishes. She said that her and her husband would be going upstairs to their bedroom for a movie.
“You and Jennie are welcome to do anything. Joshua—I’m guessing you’ll be in the garage? Or will you start packing tonight, dear?”
“Uh, I’ll start tonight. Makes it easier.”
“Okay, perfect. Here—I’ll help you take out the ice cream.” She took two of the bowls, but stopped in the doorway, “are you coming?”
“Yeah, I will,” Joshua replied, “in a sec.”
Once she left upstairs, you felt Joshua’s body push against your spine, his hand tapping your chin and lightly guiding your head to tilt back onto his shoulder. His parents didn’t know of the relationship and neither did yours. Only Jennie was aware. She had been easy to tell.
“I want to do something with you tonight,” Joshua whispered into your ear, his breath warm and ticklish, “after hours, of course.”
“Like what?�� You asked in a soft, hushed tone, smiling against your bitten lip. The depth of his eye contact was so exhilarating that you wanted to pounce on him right then and there, refraining by a mere hair.
His hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing them.
“Nothing too special. I’ll surprise you.”
“Okay,” you lilted, “I like surprises. Sometimes.”
Immediately pushing up to meet his lips, you kissed him, lifting a hand behind you to run your fingers slowly through his hair. Put simply, the relationship had ignited just before Joshua left for his second year of university. He came to walk you home from a night shift at the corner store, the both of you kicking pebbles down the sidewalk and dancing around the topic that was so evidently dying to burst. That’s when you decided to ask him about what Jennie had said.
“Was she right? Were you in love with me?”
“Honestly, at the time, I don’t think I could have given you a straight answer. I knew that I felt something, but I wasn’t sure if it was right. You were always in the back of my mind. I thought about you more than I’d care to admit. But when I look at you now, I can definitively say I loved you... I love you, still. ”
Since the fading aurora of that late summer night, you two started dating. It was a fairly covert operation, yet that made it all the more alive and electrifying. The topic of the graduation party had consequently resurfaced—Joshua said he was just overwhelmed by his feelings for you, and that he crumbled in the moment. You didn’t care about the incident though. He was kissing and holding you now.
“Okay, let’s meet Jennie back in the dining room,” you giggled, pushing him away from licking and teething a mark to your neck, “and I’ll let you know what I think of this very crispy looking wonton.”
This year you and Jennie would be graduating. She had offered to do your nails and make-up, which were skills she had picked up from hanging out so frequently with her old girly-girl crowd. You had met some of them—the actually genuine ones who you could imagine holding back your hair during a wicked hangover or offering their most treasured life advice through a bathroom stall at a party. Jennie had maintained some of her interests from them, though she still liked the things you had originally known her for. It was a wholesome change.
“What style of nails do you want? Personally, I like the really pointy stiletto ones because it’s so easy to scratch people.”
“Of course that’s why you like them,” Joshua rolled his eyes, spooning some mango ice cream into his mouth.
“Maybe you could practice a bit on Joshua,” you laughed.
“Yes!” Jennie exclaimed, reaching over to ruffle her older brother’s pretty, mussed hair, “that’s so perfect, isn’t it, Joshy Woshy?”
He swatted her hand away, “I told you to stop calling me that. I don’t call you Jennifer anymore.” A gradual smirk crossed his lips.
That was the cardinal sin. Never call her Jennifer. You opted to stay quiet and finish your deep-fried wonton while they bickered and sniped at each other. At least it wasn’t about the fork with the oddly-dented prong this time. That always tended toward a wrestling match.
nsfw warning.
skip to next divider if wanted!
“Shit, right there!”
Your hand flung into the darkness, bumping against the glass of the backseat window, its condensation wiped off in a messy, uncoordinated smudge. It felt too fucking good—his tongue, pressing up your most sensitive area, indulging slowly in each swirl and kiss and flick as if he would never get the opportunity to taste you here again. It was sometime past one in the morning, his car stalled in the empty lot overlooking the river bank, one single lamp post scattering the windows with a distant, glowing tint. You breathed in deep, closing your eyes.
“You like it that much?” Joshua laughed huskily, readjusting the leg cast down his shoulder. “You’ve got tears all over your face, baby.”
“Just give me more,” you whined in impatience, thrusting your hips toward his mouth with frustration, sensing his hovering breath.
He smirked, placing his thumb just above your clit and pulling back against the skin to expose it more clearly. Everything between your thighs had been generously drenched with your arousal and his spit.
“Are you sure? Think you can take cumming again? I won’t give you a break this time.” There was a teasing nature about his voice.
“Fuck, Joshua, I don’t care! Just keep licking me, please!”
“You’re so fucking whiney,” he murmured, suddenly jerking your body further down the upholstery, “I’ll let you drown me, then.”
In the next instant, his face was stuffed back into your heat, the touches of his tongue and the relentless slurping shooting every nerve in your body to starlight. You couldn’t help but thread your fingers into his wavy, sweat-dampened hair, holding him there as he practically drank you, feeling the pleasure tick higher and higher and higher. Even your hips adapted a mind of their own, attempting to grind against his face so that you could engulf him as much as possible. He caught onto your clit again, sliding his tongue directly into its most sensitive golden spot.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” you moaned into the thick air, “like that, like that—hh-holy shit! M’g’nna cum, Joshua! Please, keep going!”
At that point, you didn’t even know what to articulate. A sheen of sweat had soaked through the thin t-shirt you wore to dinner, your skirt left in a pile in the passenger seat as it had been ripped off earlier. Joshua focused relentlessly on that one perfect spot until you tipped over the edge. The scream broke down in your throat before it could even hit the mugginess around you, not that anyone would have been able to hear you given the time. Contortions twitched through your face while your hips spasmed. And Joshua took it. He took everything. He was most definitely smirking as he slurped your pussy like ice cream—even pinned down your wrist when you began to weakly push and nudge at his head.
“Holy fuck, yy-you’re crazy, Jos—nngh!” Your voice wilted at the sensation of his tongue curling inside of you, wriggling just to ruin you a little further. Half your consciousness was floating in an intangible dimension behind your eyelids. “M’gonna be so fucking sore.”
Once he was satisfied with licking clean the mess between your thighs, Joshua ripped apart the buttons on your pale shirt, kissing up your stomach, your chest, pushing his slick lips onto yours and digging his warm tongue into your mouth. You grabbed his pants, helping tug them off while tasting every bit of yourself.
“I need t’fuck you so bad,” he whispered into your ear, his honeyed voice becoming coarser with desire, “while I still have your taste on my tongue—” your leg was then stretched over his shoulder again, “I need to be inside you more than anything—” he guided himself in with a single thrust, your gasps flushing together, “all these things I wanna do to you, all these things I wanna make you feel—” your nails carved into his back, dragging in scores across the muscle, “I want you t’keep crying for me—” his hand pressed into the slippery car window, leaving an imprint in the fog as he fluidly moved his hips against you, staring down at your wet, breathless face, “I want you to know how much I’m in love with you when I fuck your pretty body like this.”
Your lips trembled into a reverie-like smile. Gripping gently at the back of his neck, you sunk him down for a slow, thorough kiss.
“Love you too…” you whimpered, “ss-so much…”
The desperation and strength of your lust had just been too surmounting in the moment. Joshua hadn’t pulled out onto your stomach like he usually did, opting to keep himself nested inside as he shuddered and let his body release. When you came around him, there was next to nothing you remembered apart from the stars that twinkled through the open sky-light of the car and the intense convulsion you experienced while gazing at them. Joshua laid against you while he caught his breath. You couldn’t stop staring at the world above that resembled a beautiful black beach. There was something so spectacular about it—something so comfortable about quirking Joshua’s head toward the roof in order for him to see what you were seeing.
He nudged your temple with his nose.
“I didn’t plan for the stars to be out. I got lucky.” He answered in between warm breaths.
You turned to look at him with a faint simper. The tingles and throbs of pleasure were still pricking you, fading ever so gradually.
“I like to think they popped out just for us.”
He chuckled, “to see us have sex in the backseat of my car?”
You mushed a hand into his face, “don’t ruin the moment!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Joshua apologized, to which you stopped squishing your palm awkwardly into his cheek, “you’re right, they’re shining for us. Um, and, you’ve got your morning after, right? You said it was in your bag or something.”
“Yeah, I’ve got it. We probably shouldn’t be that careless.” You laughed.
“Probably. But you feel so good.”
“I know,” you poked out your tongue playfully, “let’s just not make a habit of it.”
“Fair enough.”
“It’s getting pretty late, though. Don’t you want to be home at least a little early? Catch more sleep before leaving?”
He shook his head nonchalantly, then notched you closer against his bare skin by the hip. The motion prompted you to shiver at the sensitive feeling of him still deep inside you, a soft breath exhaled from between your lips. Joshua decided to sweep his fingers delicately up and down your face to relax you, knowing your nerves were rather burnt out.
“It’s alright. I have time with you now. That’s what I care about.”
Present.
It wasn’t the most ideal day to be moving cardboard boxes of your appliances, pictures, and whatever else miscellaneous belongings into the building— especially considering the three staircases you had to climb. Unfortunately, you couldn’t control the weather, and that seemed to be proved almost spitefully as a fat, cold raindrop spat directly onto your forehead. With two boxes balanced against your chest, you let it dribble down toward your eye, until you spotted Jennie hopping out the front door to the complex and whined for her to wipe the droplet away.
“At least all the super heavy stuff was moved up yesterday,” she tried to include something positive, flipping up the hood of her plasticky-green raincoat, “this is just the knickknacks. I hope.”
“Mostly—hey, can you grab that box with the lamp? It’s sitting behind the passenger seat. Oh, thank you—you’re a gem.”
“I know,” Jennie chirped, poking out her tongue.
By the time most cardboard boxes were moved into the apartment, you had experienced one downpour and another ditzy, sweet-smelling rain shower about half an hour later. The bottoms of your feet were aching. You kicked off your wet shoes onto the welcome mat and proceeded straight to the fridge, pulling out the first drink you saw—an orange cream soda. Officially toasting to your first apartment with some fancy alcohol would come later, when you weren’t damp and hungry and ready to chew someone’s head off like a dog with a meaty bone.
Joshua then pushed open the door, carrying what you assumed was the last box. He walked over to the living area, pausing for a brief moment as he decided where amongst the brown sea of cardboard it should be placed. You watched him balance it atop another big box.
“Please tell me there’s no more,” you pouted, leaning all your weight against the island countertop, “I’m about to disassemble.”
“Disassemble?” Joshua laughed, toeing off his shoes beside yours on the mat, “are you a Polly Pocket or something?”
“Yes, I am. You’re in a relationship with a piece of plastic.”
“Hm, I can’t believe I’m just figuring this out now.”
He opened the fridge, peering around inside. There wasn’t much to look at apart from some bagged vegetables, cheese, a single carton of coffee creamer, and the orange soda cans. You had opted for takeout tonight, but Joshua insisted that he should cook something special—a little market area was just down the street, anyway. He ended up grabbing a soda can, cracking it open over the sink with a satisfying hiss.
“Well, we live here now,” Joshua said, rubbing his hand down the back of your jacket, “was it a pain in the ass? Yeah. But we have a home.”
You straightened out, peeling yourself off the counter. The terrace was most definitely going to be your favourite part come summertime. Joshua liked the floor-length windows for the sunlight.
“Do you think you can buy garlic bread? Or—no—focaccia? The rosemary kind like we had at that restaurant in the fall? Don’t you remember how good that was? We couldn’t even eat our dinner.”
Joshua grinned, his hand lingering at your lower back as he brought the soda can to his lips, “I remember that place. I’m pretty sure I could make the focaccia too. Probably not too hard… anything else?”
After taking a sip from your own drink, you raised a brow.
“What do you mean?”
“Is there anything else you want for dinner?”
You smiled at him, leaning back against his chest.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
Suddenly, Jennie had poked her head through the door, waving you over with a hand. You exchanged a quick kiss with Joshua and approached her, to which you were abruptly dragged outside into the corridor, yelping. Jennie reached into her pocket for a moment.
“What’s this all about?” You grumbled.
The girl then shoved a tiny pink and white box into your chest.
“Oh my god—Jennie, I’ve told you! I’m not pregnant!”
“Like you actually know!” She rebutted, folding her arms and moving her soaked feet about nervously. “From what you’ve been telling me, it seems at least likely. You need to try it. And tell me!”
Taking a few seconds to glance over the box, you could only upend a gigantic sigh. Sure, you had told Jennie that your period was running late (but that wasn’t particularly rare for you), and you also complained about urinating more than usual. Besides, you and Joshua were fairly careful. You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t swallowed a plan b pill the following morning. Massaging at your sore temple, you decided to just capitulate and shove the box in your pocket.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
“All you gotta do is pee on a stick, babe.”
“I know what I have to do—” you gesticulated with a wildly flailing hand, puffing out an exhale, “I just think these changes or irregularities or whatever you want to call them are a coincidence.”
“Blah, blah, blah. Just take the test.”
“Obviously, I will.”
“Thank you,” Jennie said, patting your shoulder, “I just don’t want this to sneak up on you—in case it’s true! Note I said in case!”
“Yes, I did note that,” a smile managed to plant on your exhausted face, “I’ll try it, okay? Are you staying for dinner?”
“Nah,” the girl waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll let you two enjoy the first night here, alone. But I will be returning, and I will be expecting Joshua to cook me an entire meal like he’s doing for you.”
“Aw, Hansol still hasn’t found his way around a grill, huh?” You giggled, recalling the last time you visited them for supper and the boy had somehow charred everyone’s burgers into measly black pucks.
“His mind wanders,” Jennie sighed hopefully, “he’ll get there.”
“I believe that too.” You agreed while taking a step forward, wrapping your best friend and her crinkly raincoat into a hug. She returned the embrace. Both of you were practically leaning on the other for stability, clearly beaten from those heavy, clunky boxes and the number of steps you’d taken since lunch. You stayed like that for a minute, until there was a mutual choice to lug your weight off each other.
“Sleep in tomorrow!” Jennie sang as she continued waving goodbye from down the corridor. “Get him to make you breakfast, too!”
“Obviously!” You called back, smiling and admittedly a bit teary.
When you returned inside the apartment, Joshua had already pulled out some things from the boxes. All the paintings were leaned up against the wall while a few of the kitchen appliances had been organized onto the counter. Looking outside, you saw it was starting to brighten up between the clouds, the still drops on the windows glistering.
Joshua then collapsed onto the couch he’d cleared off.
“So, what was that all for? Gossiping about me?”
You huffed innocuously and plopped down beside him.
“Imagine a world where we have nothing better to do than gossip about you? Can you imagine it? No? Me either, sweetie.”
He pulled your hand away from shaking his jaw.
“You’re annoying—what was it?”
Digging a hand into your pocket, you touched the edge of the pregnancy test, though you hesitated before revealing it. The more you thought into the possibility, the more your heart started pounding with the idea that it could be true—maybe you really were pregnant. No, you had to swat the anxiously bubbling feelings away. Cross the bridge when you get there. Heaving a big breath, you flicked the test onto his lap.
Joshua merely stared at it, until he picked up the box and began reading the label. His mouth fell open in a stutter, but then it closed and he quirked an eyebrow at you because his words just weren’t conjuring.
“Um, yeah. Jennie thinks I might be pregnant. So… that’s something fun I can try tonight. Dinner and a pregnancy test.”
“Are you actua—I mean, d-do you think you are?”
Pressing your head back into the couch, your eyes drifted along the ceiling in search of some concrete answer that just wasn’t there.
“I… don’t know…” you finally said, looking to your boyfriend who was glancing at the test again, “I told you about my period being late, but that’s happened before. And I’m having to pee a lot more than usual—I get headaches now and then. I just—maybe I am!” You slid further down the couch, biting your lip. “How would you feel if it was positive?”
“How would I feel?” He echoed, leaning forward to set the test on the coffee table, his hands clasping and rubbing together. “Obviously I’d be fucking ecstatic, sweetheart. But, I mean, this is your body, and—”
“Really?” That caught you by surprise.
You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, angling your body to face him properly. “This is something you want? Like, I know we’ve glossed the topic before and we both agree that, yes, this is in our future. But… you’re okay if it… happens now?”
Joshua scooted closer to you, fitting his palm perfectly against your cheek. His gaze poured so intimately into yours, and it felt like an invisible thread was connecting your stream of thoughts and emotions.
“If it happens now then I’ll be even more excited,” his dampened hair brushed your forehead as you softly pushed your lips together, fingers skimming through his hair, “we’ll start with dinner, and we’ll see what happens afterward, okay?”
He kissed you again, pulling your body closer and firmer into his chest. “I love you.”
You nodded appreciatively, whispering, “I love you, too.”
Of course, you had no idea what was going to happen with the pregnancy test, and even if you could somehow see into the future, what was the point of spoiling things for yourself? What was the point of knowing the punches if you were better off getting hit, anyway? You just needed to be patient. You needed to take each second, minute, and half-hour at a time, because the universe always seemed to have a place for you, even when it felt like you were floating alone at the farthest perimeters of its arms. Joshua got up from the couch, grabbing his wallet off the coffee table and slipping back into his shoes. He was going to the market. At least the sun was starting to make its golden blips down onto the earth after all the rain, so he wouldn’t be walking underneath darkness.
Right, dinner first.
That was how this whole thing started, anyway.
✧✎ TAGLIST: @02psh / @ally-127 / @astersg4rden / @aunty-tiger-potato / @boowanie / @celestialpearls / @dokyeomblr / @gventaken / @hesbambi / @honglynights / @hyuckworld / @j4d / @joshuahongsfuturewife / @joshuas / @junhuilov3r / @kellyooo13 / @koishua / @lovelywoo / @quicksilverster / @rae-blogging / @sseastar-main / @ucantstopthefunk / @woozes / @wonwoonlight
Could not be tagged: @lovelacejun / @manamiyx / @notscoupy / @soonchanshua
✧✎ a/n: OKAY. I’M SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE. this fic wouldn’t have taken me so long if 2021/2022 hadn’t been as busy as they were!! again, i just want to fork out a massive apology for my inactivity! i hate producing so little writing but knowing ME and my undying urge to write questionably long fics, i somehow created a very counterproductive system LOL.
anywho, i honestly loved every opportunity i had to work on this fic since it follows the reader as they grow up, and, coincidentally, i also grew a lot during the literal fucking year it took me to finish this. there are so many new scenes compared to the og version and i personally adored writing the side-arc between reader & jennie:_) and i tried to add some humourous stuff too since it got a little angsty at times!! i hope anyone who finishes this fic develops even the slightest bit of joy that i felt while writing it. THX SO MUCH! LUV U.
#joshua scenarios#seventeen scenarios#joshua fanfic#svt fanfic#seventeen smut#seventeen fluff#joshua smut#joshua fluff#seventeen angst#joshua angst#joshua hong#seventeen x reader#joshua x reader
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this is grossly late but I still want to wish @darkwingsnark a very happy belated birthday!!
This is a scene from their fic Come Be Lonely With Me that you can read here
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Glass Cuts Deepest (4)
[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]
[ warnings: description of rape, angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment, violence, swearing, self-destructive behavior ]
[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Previous and next chapters: Masterlist
_____
With difficulty, every day, he forced himself to get used to her presence, to the smell of her coconut shampoo when she walked past, to her voice when she spoke to her year mates.
He always worked with his back to her, without looking at her, and she worked, as promised, in the corner, at the last table, covered by a pillar so that he could not see her most of the time.
On the one hand he felt uncomfortable, but on the other he thought with some feeling of pride that maybe this would help him get out of his area of weakness and trauma, that maybe this important decision would make something change in him.
She only dared to approach him when she wanted to show him her project, but when she laid it down in front of him he noticed with disappointment that it was too contrived. There was too much going on, he thought, she was trying to prove to herself and him that she could create the most expressive, most complicated design possible.
"Overdone and tacky. This is not a competition for the most pompous baroque stained glass. Don't show me things like that again." He said dryly, returning to cutting glass. He heard her swallow loudly and walk away, leaving behind her scent of some new herbal shampoo.
Although he feared she would be a distraction to him and others, she behaved politely and decently, concentrating on her work, talking to her colleagues only during short breaks for tea or food.
She conformed to the rules and always cleaned her workstation thoroughly, she also dressed appropriately, usually wearing a large black t-shirt tucked into high-waisted black trousers, her hair either tied up in a braid or tied partially at the back of her head as the rest of her curls fell down her back.
As much as he didn't want it, she was the centre of his relentless attention, he waited for any stumble from her, any proof that she was faking it, that there was something different under that mask than she had shown so far.
It seemed to him, however, that the more days passed, the more relaxed and smiling she became. She worked on her new project while sitting with headphones in her ears and listening to music, bobbing her head to its rhythm, painting at her table, undeterred by his unpleasant comment.
Two days after their exchange of words, she approached him for the second time, again holding a piece of paper. He looked at her sternly, wanting to make sure she knew what she was doing.
"Are you sure you want to show me this?" He asked warningly, and she nodded quickly before placing her draft in front of him. He pressed his lips together, feeling his heart thump involuntarily in his chest.
Her design was beautiful.
Her composition, although not perfect, even in its sketchy outline with the colours she had chosen and the positioning of the figures made the whole thing look light, lifted. He noticed immediately that the figures of the Virgin and Christ were inspired by Raphael's Sistine Madonna and wanted to see if she would admit it.
"Were you inspired by someone?" He asked coolly and she nodded quickly, smiling softly.
"Yes, Raphael's Sistine Madonna."
He hummed under his breath, pleased that she'd confessed, and began to analyse what he saw before him.
"On the left and right the composition is too filled in. You need to leave those four apostles lower, give more space to the background. Let them form an arc under the figure of Our Lady, not half a circle." He spoke at once what he noticed, running his hand over her work, pointing to the parts he had in mind.
She watched his every move with rapt attention and nodded quickly, her eyes shining with delight, as if with her imagination's sight she could see that indeed his changes would make the whole thing look even better.
"Yes. You're right, Professor, I will." She said excitedly, looking at him with a sort of gratitude and joy from which he felt uncomfortable.
He felt some strange kind of warmth in his lower abdomen at the thought that this smile suited her.
That she was pretty.
She was a pretty girl.
He bit his lower lip, embarrassed and horrified at his thought, and lowered his gaze, returning to his work.
"That's all."
He was not helped in dismissing this thought by the fact that, a few hours later, he came across her in the canteen, seeing her in nothing but a floral strapless summer dress.
He was relieved to find that nothing was showing through from under it, but the very fact that he saw her, in his perspective, in such a negligee made him take a greedy sip of coffee and avoid her, trying not to think about the slight pulsing he felt in the lower part of his body.
When he had gathered all the projects he made an appointment with the bishop, who invited him to his curia. They had coffee together and then proceeded to discuss the designs he had brought him. The bishop was delighted with three of them and couldn't make up his mind.
"You are the artist, tell me what you think. Which one do you think is the best?" He asked him, glancing at him curiously, catching himself involuntarily by the large gold cross hanging from his neck.
He looked intensely at the design that Wright had done and fought with himself, at the same time wanting to admit that she had surprised him positively with such rapid progress and considered her design one of the best, on the other hand not wanting to admit it to himself or to him. He grunted out loud.
"Please choose for yourself, Father Bishop. I am not a fair judge in this matter because I am prejudiced against one of the female students." He said frankly, and the bishop looked at him curiously.
"A female student? I thought your workshop was almost a male convent." He laughed low, gripping his belly concealed beneath his purple robe, and he huffed under his breath.
"It was." He muttered, as he nodded his head in understanding and sighed heavily.
"This one." He pointed his finger at the Wright project, and he pressed his lips together with a loud, tense swallow. Bishop looked at him curiously.
"Did I just choose the project of this female student?" He asked amused, and he looked away, impatient.
"Yes." He replied dispassionately.
"If you wish, because of our long-standing collaboration, I will change my decision." He said softly, and he shook his head.
"No."
Whether he wanted it or not, he had to announce the results and how he divided the work. While it was certainly a great achievement and he thought she had done a good job himself, he knew that she wasn't ready to do such complicated things as she had designed and that she needed to practice the basics for now.
The backgrounds were the perfect opportunity to do so and he saw no reason why she should suffer or consider it a humiliation, especially as he was the one who was to take care of the faces, with a little help from Cregan with the figures of the apostles.
He was concerned, however, when he walked into their workshop one day and saw Jason Lannister standing over her. Although he was not happy that she was his student, he had decided to take her under his wing and felt responsible for her safety in every sense of the word.
Especially the kind he might have expected from Lannister.
As soon as he had left, he approached her with an unhurried step, standing on the other side of her table, asking dispassionately what he wanted, willing himself to be sure of his assumptions.
"To learn the secret of my success." She said without much emotion, concentrating on cutting out the papers. He felt a tightness in his throat at her words knowing what she was implying.
"What did you tell him?" He asked coolly, leaning over the table, wondering if she was expanding on some lie or rumour about him. She looked at him surprised and sighed quietly, numbering piece by piece.
"That he shouldn't measure everyone by his standards. His attitude towards his female students was one of the reasons I didn't want him to teach me." She said quietly, and he furrowed his brow, finding it amusing that she feared harassment from Jason Lannister, but begged a known female aggressor for a place in his workshop.
"And you came to ask for a place with a professor who hit his student?" He asked seriously, lowly, and she threw him an anxious, frightened look, he saw her clench and lick her lips, swallowing hard, cutting another piece of paper.
"And did you hit her, Professor?"
He stared at her for a long moment, wondering if he should go any deeper into the subject, if he should talk to her about it at all. He felt, however, that he wanted to know what she thought about it, how she really perceived him.
"Yes." He replied with fatigue and frustration at the same time.
She didn't answer him for a long moment, her hands shaking as she tried to cut another template with straight, sure slashes.
"Why did you do that?" She asked quietly, and he chuckled under his breath.
"Does it matter?" He asked, as if the answer was obvious.
Since when did it matter what you slapped someone for? In the eyes of the law, in the eyes of good manners, even if she acted like a monster, he had no right to touch her.
Women were untouchable.
Not like men.
After all, they were stronger.
"It matters if you did it for no reason or if you were trying to defend yourself against her, sir." She said uncertainly and he snorted at her words, amused.
"In what way could she harm me? Hit me?" He asked ironically, knowing that no one would ever recognise any of his explanations, that in many people's eyes there was no way that a woman could have harmed him, that she would have been at fault, unless she had thrown herself at him with a knife.
The woman had to commit the ultimate, sudden cruelty to be considered a real threat, when in the case of the men, verbal aggression was enough.
"Women can hurt men in all sorts of ways. It's just that they are hardly believed." She said quietly in a trembling voice and he felt his heart stop for a moment. He looked at her in disbelief, feeling a tightness in his throat, feeling sick again, as if he was about to vomit.
Women can hurt men in all sorts of ways.
It's just that they are hardly believed.
"I don't know if it's a good idea." He mumbled horrified, looking at her in shock, not understanding why she had come to his room, why she wouldn't let him alone.
She continued to nag him, encouraging him to rub oil on her back when she was sunbathing while his parents weren't looking, she untied her bikini top in front of him and let him look at her breasts.
He felt uncomfortable, excited and embarrassed at the same time, like when he watched pornographic films.
He felt that something was wrong.
"You are such a pretty boy, Aemond." She purred, trailing her slender fingers along his bare arm, he had just started going to the gym and was proud of having muscles, he wanted to look like a man already, even though he was only sixteen.
Her attention simultaneously boosted his ego but also overwhelmed him in a way that frightened him, so he involuntarily ran away from her or locked himself in his room when he heard her voice.
When she came to him that night, however, he forgot to turn the key in the lock of his door and never forgave himself for that.
The fact that if he had got up before bedtime and checked it, it would have never happened.
She came to him wearing only a strapless nightgown from under which practically everything was visible, the outline of her large breasts and her womb.
He looked at her terrified, thinking only of the fact that she could be his mother, that he felt sick, his hands trembling, his heart pounding like mad.
He didn't know what to do, what to say, he didn't want to offend her, he just wanted her to leave.
"Easy. Your eye, your scars don't bother me at all." She said softly, in a low, sensual voice, slipping the straps off her shoulders, revealing her naked body to him, at which he stared in horror, feeling his head humming, finding it difficult to catch his breath.
"Why are you so tense?" She laughed softly, quietly, as if it was funny, sitting down on top of him, sliding the duvet off him, and he shook his head when he felt her grab the material of his sweatpants.
"No. My parents will hear. Please." He mumbled, not wanting to come off as weak, as a man who couldn't satisfy a woman, but all he felt was terror, he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, cold sweat running down his hot back.
"Shhh. Just stay still and let me take care of myself." She whispered, as if this was going to be their sweet secret, her hand exploring what was underneath the fabric and running her fingers over his manhood, clamping her fingers firmly onto it.
He pressed his lips together, holding back a moan of horror and discomfort as he felt himself involuntarily pulsing under her hand, betraying him and his body, responding automatically to her mechanical, determined movements.
"Look, see? You wouldn't be so hard if you didn't want it. It's okay, sweetheart." She cooed, as if speaking to a small child, and when she thought he was ready, she simply slid him inside her.
He looked away from her, pressing his lips together as he looked towards the window, thinking only of how a real man would enjoy this, that he had watched endless pornographic films depicting such a scenario and trying to focus on it, however, all he felt was a burning wetness under his eyelids and his body trembling.
She raised and lowered herself on top of him, panting loudly, whispering that she had wanted this for a very long time and that she knew he had too, but that it was okay, that she would take care of him now, that he was such a good boy.
He felt her hands on his torso, on his shoulders, on his cheek, her intense perfume that she must have lathered herself with before coming to him made him feel sick.
He threw up suddenly, and she almost screamed, getting off him, panting heavily.
"What the fuck?"
He sobbed pathetically, panting heavily, and it was only then that she realised how much she had misjudged the situation. She swallowed loudly, quickly dressing her nightgown back up.
"Relax, it's okay, nothing happened. Nothing happened." She repeated, but he didn't hear her, trembling all over, feeling that something inside him just died.
Women can hurt men in all sorts of ways.
He stared at her, feeling that his lower lip was trembling, his mouth twitched in a dangerous grin.
"You prefer to defend the abuser instead of the victim?"
She furrowed her brow at his words, clearly offended by his question.
"No. I just know her version of events. I wanted to hear yours before I decided what I thought of you, Professor. I thought it was only fair." She said with some kind of regret, and he felt his heart squeeze again, the thought that she would be sorely disappointed in him.
She would be disappointed in him just like his grandfather, his father, his mother, his siblings.
"There is no excuse for me. But I don't regret what I did. What do you think about it, Miss Wright?" He asked ironically, cocking his head, wanting to see what her answer would be, how she would try to justify him this time.
A sort of pain flashed across her face, her eyebrows arched in disapproval, her eyes expressing a pure, deep sadness from which he felt discomfort in his chest.
"That I feel sorry for you, Professor. Just like I feel sorry for that girl. I hope you find the decency to apologise to her one day. Excuse me, but I would like to focus on my work." She said calmly, lowering her gaze, going back to cutting again even though her hands were shaking.
He looked at her not believing what she said.
She dismissed him.
He pressed his lips together and walked out on his heel, grabbing his jacket on the fly.
He stepped out and lit his cigarette in a quick, aggressive movement, inhaling deeply, only now feeling how much his heart was pounding, how hard he was breathing, how his hands were trembling, droplets of sweat on his forehead.
He chuckled under his breath, rubbing the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, thinking how pathetic it was that he cared about her opinion.
She was nobody to him.
She could think whatever she wanted.
Nevertheless, he noticed that she had begun to avoid him. When he entered she would look away, pretend she didn't see him, that he didn't exist.
Even though he had only dreamed of it, her attitude now frustrated him.
She considered herself better than him, a saint, but he knew there were no perfect people.
If she wanted to despise him, so be it.
He decided to focus on his task, on making a faces for her project, which, despite his aversion towards her, he still liked. He easily found inspiration for the Twelve Apostles by sketching the figures of the older men in the town square one morning, standing by the fence.
There he had a whole plethora of interesting, expressive faces.
However, he had no idea what to do with the Mother of God.
Sometimes he would give her the face of his own mother or his sister, but he felt he had done this too many times, and he didn't want his work to look the same over and over again.
Sitting at his desk he glanced at his female student who despised him so much, watched her face in gentle concentration bent over her work, her warm gaze wrapped in a fan of long lashes directed at the glass she had just cut.
He wandered his eyes over her soft facial features, over her lips, her nose, her cheeks, her eyes, her neck, and felt like a voyeur.
He took his sketchbook in his hands and waited for the moment when she looked at him, wanting to make her face him, sketching her in the meantime in the position she was in now, just to catch the right proportions of her figure.
When she finally lifted her gaze to him he felt heat in his lower abdomen, she immediately averted her eyes, but that was enough for him, he saw what he wanted.
On the one hand he felt like a pervert, on the other he felt some kind of sick satisfaction analysing every last bit of her face, taking several of his sketches with him and creating the final one. When he had finished it and dressed it with the right robes surrounding her head he thought it looked perfect.
Her portrait was melancholic, serene, there was a kind of warmth and certainty emanating from her gaze at the same time, her lips slightly parted, as if she had just taken a breath, making her look full of life, only frozen in stillness, in the moment.
He figured that as soon as he finished painting he would throw away all his sketches of her, and if anyone asked if he had been inspired by her facial features he would deny it.
Halfway through his work he went out for a cigarette and, convinced that there was no one else in their workshop at such a late hour, left the door open.
When he returned, however, he froze, horrified, seeing her figure bent over his sketches, an expression of disbelief on her face.
Fuck.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
"Get out." He growled harshly, enraged that she had seen this, that she now knew what he had done.
She wanted to say something, frightened, but he wouldn't let her finish, terrified of what she could do with her knowledge.
"Get. Out." He repeated warningly. She nodded and moved quickly towards the exit.
He didn't know what had tempted him to grab her tightly by her shoulder, he heard her draw in a quick, loud breath, terrified, he could smell her, herbal shampoo and some cheap hand cream.
"Don't ever come in here again without permission. Your painting room is next door. This is my private studio. Do you understand?" He burst out sharply and she nodded her head quickly, he could feel her whole body quivering. He let her go and she literally ran out, leaving him alone.
He walked over to the table, restraining himself with the remnants of his strength not to drop all the glasses and smash them to smithereens. He picked up the sketches with the depiction of her face and began to tear them to pieces one by one.
She meant nothing to him.
I hope you find the decency to apologise to her one day.
On his way out, heading for his car, he spotted Lyanna, the girl he had slapped then, also heading in the same direction. She was now in her final year of university and wasn't using shared workrooms, not wanting to run into him. As soon as she spotted him she furrowed her brow and turned away, tense.
"Wait." He called out after her, feeling his heart pounding, wondering what he was actually doing.
She stopped, looking at him terrified, breathing unevenly. He approached her slowly, stopped in front of her and sighed heavily, lighting a cigarette, taking a deep drag and letting the smoke out through his mouth.
"I'm sorry. For then. That I slapped you." He said, shaking the ash from his cigarette onto the ground with a flick of his finger, not looking at her but somewhere to the side, licking his lip nervously.
"The truth is, if I wasn't earning so much for the rector, I'd be out of a job straight away for it." He muttered, taking another drag and letting out a puff of smoke through his nose, unsure if he was actually apologising or explaining.
The girl looked at him in silence.
"I'm sorry too. For what I said back then. Jason brainwashed me pretty good." She muttered regretfully, not looking at him but somewhere to the side, thoughtfully.
"He was afraid of the fact that you were on his tail, that you wanted to destroy him. He made me believe that we were in love, that there was nothing wrong with that, but it wasn't until later that I noticed how he controlled me. I no longer have anything to do with him, only now do I understand how he manipulated me, and now I watch him do the same with younger girls." She said in a trembling voice, looking at her fingers, and he lowered his gaze, pressing the cigarette to his lips again, taking a deep drag.
"Have a nice day." He muttered, turning away, leaving her surprised.
She thought clearly that he felt like listening to her grief now, comforting her with a good word, that nothing had happened, that she was a victim too.
She had consented of her own free will and was suffering the consequences of her actions.
No one forced her.
She had a choice, and instead of the victims, the girls he molested when she wasn't looking, she chose herself.
He thought with amusement that he didn't feel better at all. That no one would find out about what he had done.
That she wouldn't now, after two years, have those defamatory articles retracted, wouldn't tell the other professors that they had come to an understanding, to give him a break.
Everything would be as it had been, except that all he knew now was that she was as stupid as all the other women he knew.
And then he thought of her face, that face which in his eyes already appeared as Our Lady in a golden cloud, giving the weary apostles the hope of heaven.
_____
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess
#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#hotd aemond#aemond x fem!reader#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell fanfic#dark aemond smut#dark aemond#dark aemond targaryen#modern aemond angst#dark modern aemond#modern aemond smut#modern aemond#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#hotd smut#ewan mitchell smut#aemond targaryen angst#aemond angst#hotd angst#the angst#aemond kinslayer#prince aemond#aemond#aemond one eye#aemond the kinslayer#aemond fanfic#aemond fandom
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I was wondering how achieve such a wonderful textured finish on your pieces? They are wonderful and I love their resemblance to aged photographs and the speckles of colors in the backgrounds. Your art is mesmerizing :)
you can see some of the texture brush sets i use in my #info_asks tag but i have some more (procreate) tips aside from just brushes
also hi i made this whole thing and then stupidly hit ctrl z to erase ONE word and i lost the entire bottom half of the post and all my image descriptions so fuck you tumblr i had to make this twice
to get a faded photo or old digital screen look, consider duplicating the canvas (once all the layers are merged) and using a gaussian blur tool on the new duplicated layer. then set that to low opacity to add a misty sort of look. looks nice in combination with some chromatic abberation and a small bloom effect. then a subtle noise filter on top:
for faded print effects, it's really worthwhile to learn how to use layer masks. you can use a layer mask to non-destructively 'weather' blocks of colour or lineart, without erasing the layer itself. the weathered ink/block print effect here was made using layer masks which means that if i just hide the mask, the lineart becomes solid black again and easy to alter or colour in:
for old paper effects you can just set a paper texture on multiply over the art sure, but you can also combine it with the blur & bloom thing, a really subtle drop shadow and canvas tilt, and highlights to make it look like an aged photograph of a card. this originally had a transparent bg but i'll post it here with a white bg so that the drop shadow is more obvious. the scuffed edges of the card (left) were hand drawn, simple white stucco brush. the bigger patch of scuffed ink (top right) was a texture stamp.
for block print looks you can move the colour layer out of alignment by a few pixels - but only after you're absolutely sure you're done with it, otherwise you'll get something like this -
i forgot to erase out her eye before i moved the red layer so now her eye defeats the 'look' of a misaligned print. the black lineart and red layer were also given the same layer mask treatment as described above to make them look faded or like the ink didn't stick down right to the paper
you can do this with multiple colour layers too. if the colour layers are separated and set to multiply (as in this cmyk example), it'll leave halos and edges around each shape which mimic old comic book print
just to show what you can do WITHOUT any special brushes, here's a piece of one of my mez tarot cards from before i got any extra brushsets at all. for this one, i added a green tint over everything to mimic a sun-bleached or faded print (my actual goal wasn't 'medieval illustration' but actually 'trading card from the 60s that got left on someone's windowsill for decades'). the background texture is the procreate noise brush. the texture under the green lion drawing is the procreate concrete brush (to make it look painted onto a wall). the lettering and lineart is procreate's 6B pencil. but to properly aim for The Look of it being a printed physical object, i also used a perspective blur so that the edges are out of focus, and metallic gold highlights which don't match the lighting of the actual illustration and appear to be catching some other external light. that texture was made from the procreate noise brush
it's pretty simple compared to my later stuff but i still really like the effect
in terms of colours, you need to keep them unified so that they all appear to be acting under the same external light source, like if someone is holding up a torch to a painting then the painting colours will be glazed with firelight even if there's no painted fire. a really easy way to do this is to slap a multiply layer over everything in one shade - grey-yellow for a weathered paper look, or greenish blue for sunbleached photos. this unifies all the colours of the drawing. or you can apply a gradient map at a low opacity so that there's only a subtle change. or just do it by hand - if you want everything to be slightly tinted yellow, just pick the colours you normally would, but move the colour wheel towards yellow to get a yellowfied version of the base colour. easy
it's really important to consider how fading and weathering can affect printed colour. white paper yellows, black fades. you will rarely see pure black or pure white. which means you can use pure black or pure white to add external effects like the white scuff marks on the hierophant card. if the whole drawing is yellowed from age but there's some white somewhere, it's an easy shorthand to show that the scuff mark or whatever was not originally part of the drawing (great way to add some nasty stains lol)
#info asks#i don't have like a specific set of steps i follow i kind of freestyle it every time#obviously i have favourites i like to use but like that sphinx drawing? don't ask me how i did it because i don't remember#i just played with it until it looked nice. the blue dots are ... some sort of effect layer i don't remember which
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fame - jjk (three)
pairing ; idol!jk x idol!oc.
synopsis ; aera; the main dancer in one of the biggest k-pop groups in the world, Siren. debuting in 2014, it was nothing but immense hard work and perseverance (and being on the absolute verge of disbandment), but she and the four girls that grew to become her sisters pulled through. they did it. now they're performing at some of the most significant arenas and stadiums worldwide. meeting a cheeky, flirtatious and annoyingly gorgeous fellow idol that threatens to break down every wall of protection she's built around herself was not part of the plan. her career has always come first, having sacrificed and jeopardised many relationships and friendships in her journey to debut. so why does this time feel different?
story warnings ; smut, explicit language, violent & possibly triggering scenes.
chapter warnings ; explicit language, fluff, flirty jk
word count ; 3.2k
a/n: thank you sm for liking and commenting even reblogging its SO SWEEETTTT THANK YOU! first jk x oc interaction of the story finallyy
previous chapters ; prologue | one | two | drabble1 | three | four | ...
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
📅 July 22, 2015 — A year ago...
📍 PARK ENTERTAINMENT BUILDING
» Aera's point of view «
• • •
"—Sarang ha neun Aera-shiiiii," my sisters chorused as they clapped to the beat of their out-of-tune serenade.
"Saeng il chuk ha ham ni da!" They cheered, the flats of their palms slapping against the table while they waited for me to extinguish the burning sticks of wax stuffed into the swamp-green-coloured cake before me. I was informed earlier that Ha-Joon led the baking ensemble this morning, so I'm pretty sure it's ninety percent icing. The way the candles were at a thirty-degree angle, almost completely submerged in the desert, only furthers my suspicions.
With a cheesy grin, my eyes flutter closed as I put an end to the candles' lives. Little clouds of smoke whisp towards the ceiling when the flames die out, and I lean back a little to avoid inhaling the fume. "What'd you wish for?" Asami teased, swatting at Joonie's hand when the youngest tried to scrape her finger along the cake's side in hopes of retrieving some icing.
"I can't tell you, or it won't come true." I clichéd, pulling the candles out of the mountain of icing before they sunk like an injured battleship. Dumping the burnt sticks into the garbage can behind us, I turn to our leader as she scrolls through the comments of our current V-Live.
"Can you pass the knife, please, Unnie?" My request snaps her out of her daze, and she leans back from her phone like she didn't even realize she was so close to it. Then, grabbing the knife on the table's edge, she placed the handle in my direction and slid it across to me.
"We're at a thousand viewers!" Hanna screeched, her hand smacking at her knee in glee, and I joined in with the rest of the girls as we giggled at her excitement.
My jaw dropped in disgust and amusement as my assumptions about this cake's ingredients were correct. The knife dragged into the mush, slicing down an alp of icing before hitting a thin layer of cake far later than it should've. My eyes snapped straight to Joon as she bit her lip, her cheeks pink and puffed, no doubt trying to harbour a loud cackle at the look on my face.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I let out a breathy chuckle, continuing, or more so attempting, to cut the desert into presentable slices. Slapping each piece onto a paper plate, the girls pull a serving towards themselves as I go, waiting for me to dish up my own before they indulge. I lift the board that the remaining cake is melting on as we speak and put it out of the camera's view before sitting back in my chair with a huff.
Joonie's fork dug into her portion the moment I sat back in my seat, scooping a mouthful of pure icing and consuming it like somebody was trying to take it away from her. I snicker before doing the same, and a slight hum of approval escapes my lips when the fork hits my tongue, the icing surprisingly better and much tastier than I thought. I blame the shitty diet we're on. Cat food would taste good at this point.
Lifting my head, I browse the comments flooding through on our live, and my eyes widen at all the birthday wishes that dominated the comment section. "Thank you guys for the happy birthdays; you're so sweet." I gush, swirling my fork around my plate to try and find a chunk of actual cake and hopefully stop the tears I feel burning at my lower lash line.
I could feel the gaze of Nali on me, and I was failing to find a piece of solid food on my plate of pure topping, which was only making me more frustrated and almost losing the battle with the water pooling in my waterline.
"We couldn't afford two cakes." Nali blurted, and the sound of forks scraping against paper plates pulled to a halt, four heads turning to stare at the blonde.
A few moments of silence passed, and I didn't fight it anymore, my grip on my plate loosening, and I rested it on the table before bursting into a fit of laughter. I seem to have broken the dam because the rest of the girls were heaving over, a chorus of laughs and howls bouncing off the walls of our shitty little cramped office that we cleared out for the v-live.
"It was our first anniversary a few days ago, and if we made a cake for that, we would've blown our allowance then and not had enough for Aera's birthday. So it's sort of a conjoined celebration." Hanna explained to the viewers, wiping at the corners of her eyes to rid the stray tears gathering there from laughing.
Hanna, Asami, and Joon continued breezing through the comments pouring in from the fans on our live, spotting a few familiar usernames and greeting them like they were our own members. Our sweet yet disturbing maknae had finished her cake, her gaze dropping to the left when she saw Asami's unfinished plate pushed to the side, indicating she didn't want anymore.
I felt my eyebrows crinkle slightly, watching my roommate, one spoonful of icing away from a stomach ache and never-ending whining when we try to sleep later tonight, grab Asami's plate, and devour the remnants. You would think we don't feed this girl.
Brushing the hair that had fallen in front of my eye, my gaze fell to the blonde on my right to see her attention was already on me. I give her a small, thankful smile, grateful for how she had drawn the attention away from me for a moment to compose myself. Nali nodded in understanding, her hand finding mine under the table and delivering a soft squeeze that sent a wave of comfort through my body.
It had been an hour or so since we started the live stream, and we still had choreo to work on later tonight, so we responded to as many questions and messages as possible before wrapping up the celebration. Our leader, Hanna, took a screenshot of the viewer count, still giddy at the fact that we hit 1,100, which beat our personal record by far. We thanked our Allures profusely, big gummy grins covering our faces as we sent waves and kisses toward Hanna's phone as she ended the stream.
The sound of my phone vibrating on the table's edge caught my attention as we tidied up the area. Asami took the remaining cake to the kitchen and informed us she'd wrap it and put it in the refrigerator. Ha-Joon finished stacking the used paper plates and all but sprinted out the office door, muttering a quick "I'll help!" that earned a chorus of scoffs and eye-rolls from her unnies.
"That girl will return with a permanent green upper lip," Hanna grumbled, halfway through a thank-you post on our Instagram account with the statistics from today's live.
She pulled me over to get approval for the photos of me she was using for my birthday post, and I set my phone back down before getting a chance to check my notifications. She was scrolling through today's pictures, Nali's phone becoming our camera as we were streaming from Hanna's. I chuckled at how Hanna literally took a hundred photos, my face invading Nali's camera roll; you'd think it was my phone.
Settling on a few, I suggested she use the candid of Joonie wiping the green icing on my nose as the first slide. She nodded ecstatically, murmuring a quaint "yes! i thought so too" before returning to social media manager mode.
Hanna sent the chosen pictures to herself, handing Nali's phone back with a kissy noise causing the visual to retaliate with a playful scowl that paparazzi would pay thousands to capture. They both started to head towards the door, Nali with the full bin liner and Hanna with her phone clad in their hands, before the eldest turned back towards me. "Practice in 15," she announced, not looking up from her phone but her words flying in my direction.
"Okay, unnie." I smiled, and she glanced up from her device, a smirk gracing her lips as she waited for me to face the other direction before delivering a hearty slap to my ass. Winded, I spin around to return the favour but only catch sight of the raven-haired girl sprinting down the hall to catch up with Nali.
"Freak," I mutter, my laugh fizzing out in the room that now only contains me. My abandoned phone remains face-down on the table, and I trudge over, tapping the screen to bring it back to life. Staring at the notification perched at the top of my cracked phone screen, it glares back at me before my phone fades out due to inactivity. I continue bringing the phone back to life, each time staring at the same notification for thirty seconds before the screen goes black again.
15:34 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN
Happy birthday Aera 🎂
I click on the notification, and my screen reacts to my demand, transitioning to the messages app. As I think of a response, my nail begins to tap against the side of my phone case in angst, and I almost put my phone away altogether.
It's just a happy birthday message, not a fucking proposal. My inner thoughts are demonic, taunting me as I discover five characters is apparently my limit before I delete everything and start over.
15:38 ME
thank you jungkook
Poetic. You truly have a way with words, Aera. My thumb scrambled to the side of my case, resting against the lock button, so close to ending my misery, before I saw the word 'delivered' change to 'seen' at the bottom of my message. He's fast to reply, almost as if staring at the text waiting for a response.
15:38 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN
How are you?
Rolling my eyes at the basic pleasantries, I consider leaving him on read and heading towards the practice room with the rest of my members. Then, against my better judgment, I concede.
15:39 ME
i'm okay, you?
15:39 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN
Just okay? It's your birthday, you should be happy! 🥳
15:39 ME
i am happy. today has been great 🥳
15:40 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN
You know, mirroring the actions of someone else can often be misinterpreted as a show of affection
15:41 ME
aaaaand you fucking ruined it. i have to go practice
15:41 JUNGKOOK FROM BANGTAN SONYEONDAN
Wait Aera
Can we
Video call later tonight
My heart skips a beat, or six, as I stare at his text. He's so fucking blunt. So forward. It drives me mad. So mad that I find myself sending back a thumbs-up emoji before shoving my phone into my pocket and leaving the office that, I swear, has increased by five degrees in the last few minutes.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
The squeak of my reusable water bottle wrung in my ears as I squeezed the life out of the canister, the chilled liquid it holds trying its hardest to fight the internal burning temperature of my body. I run my hand through my damp hair in an attempt to incorporate air into the strands and allow my scalp a chance to breathe.
We wrapped up practice a few minutes ago; the rest of the girls had scrambled out of the burning suite when we unanimously agreed that we physically couldn't continue today. Hanna led the eager troops to the kitchen to prepare our dinner, and I secured the lid of my bottle shut before tailing the train down our company's hall. Stopping at my dorm once they had just entered the kitchen's quarter, I threw out a quick "i'll be there in a sec, just need to use the bathroom" before ducking into my room.
Snatching my hoodie that I threw on my bed carelessly earlier today, I flip it inside out at lightning speed, shoving my head and arms through the holes in what I'm sure is a personal best. Leaning over my bed with a huff, I grunt in triumph when I feel my phone in my grasp after a few failed attempts to grab it off my bedside table. Shoving it into the pocket of my sweatshirt, I make my way out of the dorm, looking in the direction of the kitchen before turning the opposite way and heading for the exit of our building.
A sigh of ecstasy leaves my lips as the chilled night air envelopes my frame once I push through the bulky door of our building and make my way toward the stony path that lines the structure. My butt hits the pavement with a thud, and I fish my phone out of my pocket; the device's light illuminating a ray of yellow in the darkness of the night as it comes to life.
Clicking on the familiar contact in my list, I hit the video icon and listen to the low hum of the outgoing tone as it attempts to connect me to the desired recipient. No more than five seconds pass before the loading symbol appears on the screen, the background black as the device works to load the picture of the awaiting parties.
I'm staring at the box in the bottom right corner that mirrors my appearance, halfway through pulling the hood of my jacket over my head to shield my matted hair before his bunny smile stately renders onto my phone screen.
My action is pulled to a halt, my hand releasing my shirt's hood as I take in the picture being shamelessly displayed by my busted phone. Jungkook leans against his headboard, clad in a black shirt that accentuates the shape of his arms. Speaking of arms, the one of his that isn't currently busy holding his device up runs through his woolly, fluffed hair before resting behind his head against the board.
"Saeng il chuk—" Jungkook started once my camera connected and displayed my face on the screen. A cringed scowl overtook me as I hushed him, shaking my head rapidly and begging him to stop the birthday anthem.
His cheeky giggle blew through my speaker when I cut off his song, eyebrows raised in amusement, "How's the big 19? Feel any different?"
"Days don't even feel like days right now, so no, I don't feel that different." My response is honest, eyes trailing down to the heel of my sneaker, currently scraping against the gravel beneath me that I'm sure is staining my sweatpants.
He nods in understanding, knowing exactly how I feel at the moment, having been in a similar situation in his rookie days. "Do you want me to call you Noona now?" He quips with a smirk, reminding me that I am, in fact, two months older than him.
My eyes widen as his question catches me off guard, and I do not bother to stop my eyes from rolling to the back of my head while he chuckles hoarsely at my reaction. "I will fucking kill you."
My response only seems to amuse him more, his eyes wide in faux fear, and I feel a smile breaking through onto my face, forcing me to look away from my phone for a moment. The smell of spices invades my nostrils, bringing me back to consciousness, and I glance up at the time displayed on my device.
"I have to go eat dinner," I say, watching his plump bottom lip purse into a pout.
My team probably thinks I am having abhorrent bowel movements right now. However, Jungkook's question pulls me out of my thoughts, his big bug eyes curious as he quizzes, "Why are you eating dinner at 11 pm?"
"The kitchen doesn't close until 12 on weekends, so we usually train later on Saturdays and Sundays." I shrug, shuffling a little until my back is flush against the side of the building. His eyebrows furrow, seemingly taken aback by my answer, and I'm unsure why.
"The kitchen closes at certain times?" His question is low and soft, and I can't decipher the look on his face as he says those words. This had become my reality that I adapted to so quickly since becoming a trainee. I often forget to filter out certain things before sharing with people.
"Do you want me to get you something delivered?" He asks; the tone of his voice is gasoline on the burning flame in my lower stomach.
"Oh yeah? Are you gonna supply food for five people?"
"Yes." His answer is instant, and I admit defeat to the battle with my mouth as my lips curve into a soft smile.
"Don't do that," I shake my head, pulling my knees closer to my chest as the wind picks up, and I hope it blows the phone out of my hand and into the local lake.
"Do what?" His tone is innocent though his features are anything but.
"Don't say shit like that."
"Shit like what?" The corner of his mouth upturns as he senses my frustration, my displeasure only seeming to egg him on.
The loud chatter and laughter of my members pull me back to my reality, and I let the laugh trapped in my throat escape before clambering to my feet, glaring at the boy leaning against his headboard once I steady myself, "I have to go."
Jungkook nods in understanding, looking like he didn't expect to get me for this long anyway. Just as I'm about to say goodbye, he leans up a little, the muscle in his arm tensing as it adjusts behind his head. "Wait, are you guys attending MAMA?"
I knew he meant well, but it didn't stop the unsettling feeling brewing in my stomach, the possibility of being unable to break through in our career despite the work my sisters and I put in daily glooming over my head like a heavy, grey cloud.
"Don't be ridiculous; we could never get an invite to a show like that."
"You will one day." He responds, his tone sure and confident, and I almost believe him.
"Maybe one day." I nod, a grateful smile finding its way to my lips, and he returns the gesture, his bunny teeth peeking out slightly in a cheesy grin.
"Have a good dinner, Noona. Happy birthday," he wishes, and my finger instantly dashes to the disconnect button in reflex. Giving him one final glance, I poke my tongue out teasingly, clicking the red icon that ends both the call and my suffering.
Letting out a heavy breath, I walk back to the entrance of our building, swinging the door open and flicking the lock once it shuts behind me. My head falls forward onto the glass, and I have to stop myself from lifting it and slamming it back down a few more times.
Shoving my phone back into my hoodie pocket, I finally make my way toward my members in the kitchen. The smell that wafts from the kitchen tickles the aggressive hunger in my stomach, distracting my thoughts from other things. Halfway down the hallway, my eyes fall to the back of my head for the umpteenth time this night alone as I grind to a halt. Now I actually have to pee.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
taglist ; @0anodite0
#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook imagine#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fanfiction#bts#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#idol oc#bts idol au#jungguk#jeon jungguk
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Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes AMG) - Snowman
Requested: no
Prompt: Snowman by Sia
Lewis hated fights and what was worse was fights with his friend and roommate Y/n. She was an angel, he could admit that. Whenever he was at races or at the factory, she would take good care of the place and when Lewis needed space to relax after a race weekend, she would understand and give him all the time in the world. The only downside to them being roommates was the arguments and they'd become more and more frequent. Both Lewis and Y/n figured that if the arguing continued, they wouldn't be able to stay as roommates because they'd end up saying something or doing something they would later regret.
This argument in particular started all because of the Christmas tree. The week before the Saudi Arabia Grand Prix, the pair decided to decorate their house, since they probably wouldn't have the time or chance to do it after the double header; they were planning on visiting their families up until boxing day. They'd had everything done, bar the tree and all that needed to be done on the tree was the angel. Y/n grabbed the angel from the box and turned back around, only to see Lewis with a can of fake snow, opened and ready to be sprayed.
"No! Don't spray the fake snow on the tree!" Y/n shrieked. "Why?" Lewis asked, the can still in his hand. "It makes the tree look tacky." She explained. "Just add some ribbon on some of the branches and we're good to go." Lewis stared at her, not even blinking. Y/n knew what he was thinking of doing. "Don't." Lewis lifted his hand and pressed down on the canister. "Whoops." Y/n clenched her jaw and slapped the can from his hand. "It's our tree Lewis."
"Yeah, our tree Y/n. We both decide what goes on it." Y/n rolled her eyes. "But you've already chosen the baubles. The least I can do is choose whether or not the tree will have fake snow on it!" Lewis scoffed and continued to spray the tacky snow onto it. "You can honestly just go and fuck yourself Lewis." Y/n stormed out and slammed the door. Lewis kept looking forward to the tree until he heard an ornament smashing. He turned and saw some glass sprawled out on the floor in shards, then to a piece of paper, colouring a memory of a past Christmas. He walked towards it cautiously and picked what remained up. He looked at the photo inside the ornament. Him and Y/n back in 2014, their first Christmas as roommates. He turned it Iver, remembering they had a note written.
No matter how often we fight, we'll never leave
Because we'll be roommates and friends until we die freezing.
Lewis felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He wasn't one for crying but here he was, crying on the ground beside a shattered Christmas bauble.
Y/n had been in her room. With every second, she grew more and more guilty with storming out on Lewis and after she had heard something smash, it was getting worse. She tried justifying what she did but she couldn't. She felt like an asshole. She gave into her thoughts and decided to go to the living room and apologise. She knocked on the door. "Lewis? I'm so sorry.
"Don't cry. It's Christmas." Y/n said, wiping away the few tears that fell from his cheeks. "I can't give you a hug if you're soaking with tears." She joked, earning a joke from Lewis. "I hate fighting with you." He croaked. "Especially over stupid things like this." Y/n smiled softly and put her arm around him. "Still, it isn't an excuse to go crying now, is it?" Lewis chuckled and wiped his eyes with his jumper. "No, it's not."
"Exactly, so come on Sir Lewis Hamilton, we've got to clean this up." She stood up and held her hand out to help him up. She grunts as she tries to lift him. "Jesus Christ, a week without racing and you're already gone back to being heavy." Lewis laughed and continued to get himself up. "I don't know what to do with this photo now." Lewis showed the laminated picture to his roommate. "Here, just put a hole in it and then feed the string through the hole." She suggested, carefully taking it from him and doing exactly what she said. "See?" she smiled, showing him the new masterpiece. "Much better." Lewis chuckled. "Exactly, now come on Mr Snowman Hamilton. We have to finish this bloody tree."
#f1 blurb#f1 imagine#f1 oneshot#f1 oneshots#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton x fem!reader#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton
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PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 1
PRINCE OF GOTHAM
CEO!Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut.
A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Some other characters are changed too, hopefully you’ll enjoy the cameos etc. I’ve tweaked parts of the story here and there so it suits better. I hope you all enjoy xoxo much love. Let me know if you want a tag list / to be on the tag list.
***
Roy lounged back in his leather office chair and smirked as Jason sauntered in without knocking. “And what do I owe this displeasure?”.
“Just wanted to see how things were going, you know, it is my company after all”, Jason glanced around the office. Roy liked to keep things minimal, although the addition of the little cactus was new. An almost feminine touch. He made a note to question him about that later. He’d never known Harper to take an interest in plants before.
As the office door closed behind him, arguing erupted outside, barely concealed by the walls. He raised his eyebrow and looked through the window seeing a short, stumpy man in a suit become red and blotchy in the face.
“I don’t know why we still pay that moron”, Roy grunted and waved his hand to the disagreement outside. The stubby man, Eric, was tugging at his tie as a more feminine voice dressed him down confidently.
“I can have HR carry out a performance review if you’d like”.
Jason glanced out between the blinds and saw you storm around one of the desks, straight into his vision, hands flying violently as you spoke. He swallowed as his eyes followed you; a tight fitting grey pencil skirt paired with a wine silk blouse. He raised an eyebrow in interest. Your hair was pinned up in a messy bun, strands falling down to frame your petite face. Lips painted a deep shape of rouge. You laughed venomously before pointing to one of the free standing boards, a colourful diagram adorning it. Eric shook his head and turned away, only infuriating you more. Jason smirked, enjoying the little show.
“She’s been here 5 minutes…down boy”, Roy chuckled and grabbed something from his printer. Scrawling his signature across the bottom.
“You say that like you'd wait even 30 seconds”, Jason scoffed, a little embarrassed and slightly impressed at how well Roy could read him.
Roy looked up from the papers and grinned, “I give at least 3 to 5 working days as a courtesy before I pounce”.
Jason felt his stomach churn at the thought. He spun around quicker than he would have liked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh...so you’ve tried then?”.
“What’s it to you if I have?”, Roy grinned, noticing Jason’s reaction.
“I want to see if she has taste”, Jason quipped and turned his attention back to the escalating discussion outside. Hoping to hide the pink tinting his cheeks. You’d now dragged the whiteboard across to Eric, jabbing at one of the PowerPoint slides before rubbing your temples in frustration.
Roy scoffed to hide the laughter before getting out of his seat strolling across to Jason to hand him the signed papers, “You know, she’s the woman that saved you 500 grand last week”.
Jason frowned upon taking the paperwork from Roy, “I don't remember hearing about it”.
The white haired man shrugged to the shouting, “Take a wild guess why, Todd”.
“He played it as his own victory?”, Jason’s gaze fell back to you. Eric was crossing over your work on the board with an ugly red marker, sneering at you. Jason felt his temper surge at the blatant disregard for your hard work and effort. His brow creased at the unfamiliar emotions swimming in the back of his mind.
Roy slapped him on the shoulder suddenly, a dark grin on his lips, “Oh! So you do have a brain”.
Jason rolled his eyes, rolling his broad shoulders, “Contrary to popular belief, yes I do”.
Roy laughed deeply as he watched you with Jason through the window, your irritation bubbling over as you repeatedly jabbed your pen to the graphs on the board, voice becoming louder with every word, “She’s a real pistol”.
“I can see”, Jason hummed appreciatively as you stalked off towards the coffee room, the skirt pulling tight against you, highlighting the curve of your ass perfectly.
Eric looked flustered as the rest of the staff in the room stared at him following the heated exchange. He shouted something to them, causing them all to bow their heads behind their computer screens. Roy grumbled something under his breath Jason couldn’t make out. Eric turned towards Roy’s office and stiffened when he saw both men watching him. Jason smirked at him, giving a subtle wave before turning to Roy, “You know what, I will send HR down this week to investigate”.
***
You checked yourself in the mirror of the elevator again, nerves making your stomach somersault. The dress had been an extravagant splurge but the moment you laid your eyes on it, you knew you had to have it. It was a floor length, backless crimson dress with a daring thigh split. You ran your hands down the front of the fabric, the satin soothing your clammy palms.
Your hair was curled loosely and draped down your bare shoulders, lips a dark red to match your dress. Briefly, you hoped, you hadn’t gone overboard with your outfit. The invitation had said ‘formal wear’. The elevator dinged and before you could think too much, the doors slid open revealing you to the party. You heard someone gasp in the distance and that’s when the entire room turned to your direction.
You were used to people staring at you in the office because of your fiery attitude but this was different. You felt your skin prickle. An odd sensation driving through your nerves. Everyone had paused to stare at you as you stepped into the room. The music faded in the back of your mind, replaced by the hammering of your heart. You straightened yourself and strode into the room with all the false confidence you could muster.
His eyes. Jason. You could feel them burning more than anyone else’s. He’d stopped mid sentence when you entered the room, cigarette left smoking in his hand. He was surrounded by his executive team, including your area manager, Mr Harper. Whilst you felt heat spreading across your cheeks, you felt somewhat pleased you’d stunned your loud mouthed CEO into silence. Roy had slapped Jason on the back, a dark smirk on his face drawing his attention away from you. He glared at Roy before taking a long drag from his cigarette, continuing with his conversation as though nothing had happened. The group of suited men dissolved into barks of laughter.
You needed a large drink. Preferably a strong one too if you wanted to last the night. You headed straight towards the bar, as fast as your towering heels would allow.
———
Jason patted one of the executives on the shoulder, making his excuses before striding across to you as you leaned against the bar, your bare back on full display. He swallowed thickly, you looked majestic under the glittering fairy lights draped around the room.
He settled next to you at the bar, clearing his throat before speaking, the deep timber of his voice rattled your core, “I think...I've seen your face before”.
You rolled your eyes at the terrible opening line before turning to face him. The black suit fitted him perfectly, showcasing his broad shoulders, his blood red tie knotted tightly against the collar of his crisp white shirt.
“Probably during one of your lonely nights over a bottle of chardonnay”, you lazily waved your hand at him.
Jason smirked at your attitude and laughed, “You think I’m chatting you up princess?”.
You pursed your lips together, nodding, “It certainly sounded that way to me and I really don’t know what else you would do after swaggering away from that crowd just to talk to lil’ old me”.
“I simply had to talk to the woman who stunned the room into silence”, his smooth voice sent shivers over your skin, oozing charm. You imagined it worked on every woman he encountered. It almost worked on you.
“Very smooth Mr Todd”, you teased and tried to wave the bartender down with no luck. You sighed and cursed under your breath.
Jason clicked his fingers, drawing the attention of the waiter immediately, “Two large glasses of Malbec please”, he winked at you when the bartender reached to the top shelf of liquor, “I know who you are”, Jason gave you a devilish smile, “You’re the 500 grand woman”.
“Y/N”, you winked and wiggled your finger at him in a joking fashion. The grin on your face widened when the wine was set down in front of you both. The rich, spicy smell drifted up your nose.
You dug your hand into your purse but Jason shook his head, “It’s on me”.
“Oh”, you clicked your tongue playfully, “You’re too kind”, you smirked at him.
Jason wouldn’t admit it, but he knew exactly who you were. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since he laid his eyes on you last month. Your spitfire attitude had spread through the office and you’d made quite a name for yourself. Cutting impressive deals and smart talking anyone who tried to shoot you down. The only thing Jason had lacked was an opportunity to talk to you.
He held up his glass of whiskey and looked down at you, his dark eyes sweeping over your face, “A toast”, he leaned down towards you, his hot breath fanned across your cheek, “To Y/N”, his voice dipped lower, a gravelly rasp, “The most beautiful, enticing woman in the room”.
“You forgot to add smart”, your voice sounded more breathy than you intended, giving Jason an idea of the effect he was having over you.
He winked, “The most beautiful, enticing, smart mouthed woman in the room”.
“To me”.
You clinked your glass with his before bringing it to your lips, taking a long sip. The alcohol burnt your throat in the best way, the deep red of your lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Jason couldn’t help but stare at the smudge, wondering if it would stain as nicely on his skin.
Downing the drink in one, Jason placed the glass on the bar, the bartender rushed over quickly, leaving the bottle of red wine next to Jason before scurrying off. Your tongue darting across your lips, savouring the taste of the luxurious drink.
Jason watched you closely, you felt alive under his burning stare, “I hope you’re enjoying working for The Iceberg Lounge”.
“Of course, Sir”.
He swallowed the growl threatening to escape his lips. The way you said it. The way your lips wrapped around the word Sir, how easily it rolled off your tongue. He took a deep breath. You riled him up with little to no effort.
You glanced around the gala, almost everyone from The Iceberg had turned up. Hundreds of people were braying in the room. Dancing, drinking, laughing and screeching. The music thudded in the background, the bass thrumming through your body. You had to hand it to Jason, he certainly knew how to host a company party. Well a man in charge of a chain of bars should really.
Jason gripped the bottle of wine swiftly, “It's getting rather lively in here princess, fancy a drink and a smoke on the balcony?”.
You nodded, grabbing your clutch from the bar. You sashayed through the crowd easily, Jason following close behind you. Slinking through the throes of people, you smirked to yourself. You were playing with fire but, you had to admit, you liked the heat that came with it.
———
When you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night breeze whipped around your body, nipping the bare skin on show. You shuddered slightly, looking up at the night sky. You were high enough that you could finally see the stars. They twinkled innocently, making you smile to yourself.
Jason placed the bottle of red on a nearby table, looking across at you. You looked even more stunning under the midnight stars. He coughed deeply, working his way across to the railing you were leaning against, ��I’m surprised that you came alone, I find it hard to believe you struggled to get a date”.
You turned to him, your chandelier earrings dangling in the breeze, they captured the starlight and flickered elegantly, “I like coming to these things alone”, you mused, a coy smirk on your painted lips, “I like to see who else has come alone”.
“Oh”, he inched closer, the soft brush of his suit jacket against your bare arm made you flush, “So you’re on the lookout?”.
“Maybe”, your fingers wrapped around the metal bar and you looked over the edge. The bustle of Gotham City never ceased to amaze you, even at this height. And there you were, gazing at it with its unofficial Prince standing next to you.
Jason grinned, letting a cool finger stroke down your upper arm, “I might be able to help with that”.
You smirked, looking up catching his heated stare, “Are you going to introduce me to one of your rich friends?”.
“Trust me princess, they’re not your type”, he scoffed, his eyes tracing down the neckline of your dress, mapping every inch of your tantalising skin. He noticed a faint sparkle of glitter on your skin, along with a subtle scent of vanilla invading his senses.
Moving away from the balcony edge, you stepped into his space, fingers grasping the end of his tie, playing with it gently, “And what is my type?”.
Jason felt an unmatched desire burning in his gut when your hands toyed with his tie. He took a deep breath before cornering you into the balcony railing. His eyes were hooded with lust, “I know exactly what it is”.
The bitter metal pressed into your lower back and you bit back the moan creeping up your throat, desperate to escape. You snaked your hand up his solid chest and straightened out his shirt collar, “Well don't keep me in suspense, Sir”.
It was taking all of his self restraint not to bend you over the balcony and rail you from behind, especially when you kept calling him Sir. His hands gripped the balcony bar behind you, knuckles white from the force. Jason smirked, his voice dropping several octaves, “I can show you instead princess”.
The heat from his body was addictive and you leaned into it without thinking, breath catching in your throat. His aftershave was intoxicating and you felt your mind spinning. Jason pulled back suddenly and offered you his hand.
You slipped your hand into his and bit your plump bottom lip, “People are going to see us leaving together”.
“So?”, Jason shrugged, “Then they know we're going to have some fun, aren't we princess?”.
You shivered, letting his words drip over you. Oh the night was yet to begin and your heart was thrumming with excitement. You secured your fingers through his and started to pull him back inside so you could both leave.
“Of course Sir”.
The second you were back inside, Jason’s free hand wound around your waist, guiding you towards the elevators. He leaned down, hot breath fanning down your sensitive neck, “Yours or mine?”.
You pressed the down button on the lift pad a little more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You felt him smirk behind you, fingers digging into your flesh.
“Mine”, you whispered before slipping into the cart when the doors sprung open.
———
The taxi ride back to your apartment was filled with subtle touches and increasing tension. You’d expected Jason to pounce on you the second you slid into the backseat but he didn’t, simply keeping one arm around your shoulder, the other resting on your exposed knee drawing feather light circles.
“Keep the change”, Jason muttered, shoving a wad of cash through the divider before helping you out of the car.
His hand pressed into your lower back, rough fingers scraping against your soft skin. You shuddered, excited to feel his touch exploring the rest of your body. You led him through the marble floored lobby and up a flight of stairs, stopping outside of your door to retrieve your keys from your clutch.
His lips pressed into the junction of your neck, tongue lapping over your skin which flushed rapidly under his touch, “Hurry up princess”. You felt Jason’s hand stroke up the front of your dress, palming your breast greedily before pinching your nipple.
You gasped at the rush of sensations, almost dropping your keys. The overload of his touches made you shudder and your eyes close, head dipping forward.
“Unless you want me to fuck you out here for everyone to see, I suggest you get that door open”, he growled, lips teasing the shell of your ear. His cock was straining against his suit trousers as he brushed it against your ass, groaning quietly.
Steadying your hands and your frayed mind, you slotted the key into your door, opening it as quickly as possible. Before you had any time to think, Jason crushed you against it, slamming it shut, his lips plastered to yours in a frenzied heat.
You moaned, the noise swallowed by his mouth as his tongue glided along yours. He could still taste the wine on your lips, mingling with your own sweet flavour. You dropped your bag and ran your hands up his chest, reaching his tie. Tugging it hard, you loosened it, enough to free him of it and start unbuttoning his shirt.
Jason smirked and sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, enjoying the gasp of pleasure you released. You looked into his darkened gaze, giving him a sweet innocent smile before pushing him back against the hallway wall. His eyebrows lifted in surprise but he allowed you control, stroking the pads of his fingers up and down your spine.
With the last button popped open, your nails dragged down to his belt, unfastening it slowly, licking your lips.
“I bet this is what you thought about didn’t you?”, you teased, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down, slowly, “Me on my knees for you, swallowing your thick cock”.
You palmed him through his boxers, watching his face twist with held back desire. Your lips curved and you dropped to your knees, eye level with his hard shaft.
Jason groaned quietly, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tighter when your lips ghosted over the outline of his throbbing cock.
“Princess”, he warned huskily, voice laced heavy with lust.
The stings of pain as he pulled your hair shot down to your core, lighting up all of your nerves. You mewled and mouthed his tip, “I thought about it too…Sir”.
His hips rutted towards your face at your words and you grinned. You pulled his boxers down slowly, watching as his cock sprung free, slapping against his rippled abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, aching for him to sink into both your throat and pussy.
You nipped along his thick, muscled thighs, your lipstick smearing as you neared his pulsing length. He tensed with each bite and growled loudly, cock twitching with excitement.
“Princess if you keep-”, the words died in his throat when the wet heat of your mouth encased his cock in one swift motion. His head flung back, eyes scrunched shut at the feeling.
You purred around his shaft, tongue fluttering along the underside, tracing the vein there. Your hands stroked up and down his thighs as you worked your lips around him. Bobbing your head back and forth.
Each time you whined around him, the vibrations buzzed up his spine, sending his mind into a delirious haze of pleasure.
“Fuck!”, he grunted and fisted his hands into your hair, thrusting forward into your hot mouth.
The head of his cock nudged the back of your throat and you gagged around his cock, whimpering with desire. He caught his breath and looked down at you, eyes black with passion.
“Your lips look perfect wrapped around my big cock”, he smirked and thrust harder into your mouth, the wet, sinful sounds echoing in the hallway of your apartment.
Your pussy was soaked and each time you shuffled, the lace of your thong rubbed against your clit. The sensation made your skin flush but it wasn’t enough. You needed him.
Jason sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you swallow his cock. Your once perfect lipstick was smudged all over your mouth. Some stained his length. He groaned as you pulled back, tracing your tongue over the slit of his tip, hands kneading his inner thighs perfectly.
“Sir-please…”, your voice was raw as you spoke, wide eyes searching his, “I want you”.
He let his thumb run over your bottom lip, enjoying the way your lips wrapped around it without second thought, sucking softly. Jason dipped it down your chin before hooking it underneath, “Come here”.
You stood slowly, adjusting the strap of your dress which had fallen down your arm. Jason bracketed your hips and lifted you easily, letting your toned legs wrap around his waist. His lips moulded to yours, kissing you deeply. He could faintly taste himself on your tongue, the bitter arousal sparking through his body.
———
He carried you with ease through your apartment, occasionally banging into things along the way.
“Second d-door”, you moaned loudly when he bit your shoulder, “on the-the right”.
When you finally made it into your bedroom, after several stops along the way with Jason shoving you into the nearest wall, he dropped you down onto the bed.
You inched up the bedding slowly, watching him with hooded eyes as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. You made no show of hiding how much you admired his finely sculpted body. You licked your lips as his muscles flexed when he knelt onto the bed, grabbing one of your ankles.
“You’re wearing too many clothes”, he complained as his fingers travelled up your bare leg before finally reaching the hem of the dress.
“What are you going to do-”, the tear of fabric was loud in the room, Jason’s face was knitted with desire.
“Jason!!”, you scolded loudly as he continued to rip the flimsy material off your body, leaving you bare beneath him in a skimpy lace thong. You watched as he threw the offending material to the floor, his predatory gaze turning back to you.
“Get on your knees”, he commanded, ignoring your protests about your once beautiful dress, “Now”.
You wanted to argue, but the twisting coil in the pit of your stomach made you comply readily. You saw his pleased smirk before you rested your head against your forearms, pressing your ass and core to him.
He whistled appreciatively, slapping his hand over one of your cheeks. You moaned wantonly, muffling your cries into the flesh of your arm.
“Don’t you dare”, he growled and spanked you harder, your skin becoming hot and prickly, “I want to hear every sound you make”.
The thong you had on framed your ass perfectly, barely covering your glistening pussy. He smoothed two fingers through your silken core, sinking them into you slowly. Jason grunted when your walls tried to pull him further.
He removed his hand and spread your wetness along the back of your thigh, pushing your thong to the side. You whined in protest at the loss of sensation and pushed back. Jason gripped your hips tightly, halting your movement, “Tell me what you want princess”.
Heat crept over your flushed skin as he teased you, the tip of his cock sweeping through your sopping folds. You ignored his question and circled your hips, mewling his name.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back forcefully, teeth grazing the sensitive spot on your neck, “I said, tell me what you want”.
“Your cock”, your moans were depraved as you felt the overload of euphoria thrumming through your veins, “I want you to fuck me”.
Jason kissed the spot behind your ear, sucking a mark there before muttering, “Where are your manners princess?”.
You dug your nails into the sheets below in frustration before panting desperately, “Please Sir, please fuck me”.
He chuckled darkly behind you, tugging your hair again, before sinking his cock into your pussy fully. You cried out at the delicious sting as he stretched your walls with his thick girth.
Jason gave you no time to adjust before slamming his hips back into yours harshly, keeping your hair wound around his fist as he thrust into you.
The air was filled with the sounds of your debauched moans and his skin slapping into yours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your first orgasm hit you without any warning.
Jason cursed behind you as your velvet walls spasmed around his cock, pulling him deeper. His thrusts became shallow as he drove harder into you, working you through your climax.
Changing the angle of his thrusts, the head of his shaft slammed against your g spot repeatedly as he ploughed faster into your pussy. You sobbed his name into the bed sheets, gripping them tightly. You were certain your nails were going to rip through the fabric.
“That’s it princess”, he coaxed, tugging your hair back, “I know you’ve got another one for me”. He snaked his hand around your front, rubbing over your clit furiously.
“Jason!”, you cried his name loudly, vision going blank as he fucked you into another powerful climax. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as he fell into his own release, emptying himself in your tight core.
“Fuck!”, he rasped, releasing your hair and holding onto your hips as his thrusts slowed down to a complete still.
Pulling out of you, he groaned under his breath as he saw some of his seed drip down your folds. You collapsed down onto the bed, flat on your front, fighting to catch your breath. Jason dropped down next to you, relaxing on his back, his own chest heaving with deep pants.
You hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time. If ever. With the last of your energy, you rolled onto your side, a sly grin on your face, “Got time for another?”. Your fingers stroked down the grooves of his abs, following the dark trail of hair.
Jason grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, nipping at the pulse on your wrist, “Definitely”.
He pulled you on top of him, his hands moving up to cup your breasts as your lips danced together again, drinking in each other. You knew he would only be here for the night but, you’d be damned if you weren’t going to make the most of it.
***
#jason todd smut#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x you#ceo!jason todd x reader#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood smut#jason todd imagine#red hood imagine#jason todd x reader#red hood fanfiction#jason todd x reader insert#red hood x reader insert
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position rose ; charles leclerc
— summary; in which Charles shows up to his apartment with a bouquet of flowers in hand for you, and he realise that it is not just some sort of benign gesture. Will he finally see that it should have been you all along?
pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )
word count — 2301.
content — friends to lovers, f. reader is a football player wow! Mason Mount cameo because I’m a loyal Chelsea fan and he did show up at Monaco Grand Prix 2022, praying he’s there this year. P.s she loves slapping his ass, what would Charles do with the bouquet of roses for you? Celebrate a pole position together.
NAVIGATION + author’s note: in honour of Charles home race weekend nearing its date and Barça champions of Laliga title! also does anyone know how to indent paragraphs 😭
IF CHARLES HAD KNOWN better, the last thing he’d do was to invite her to the Formula 1 Grand Prix De Monaco 2023. Not when she’s right there sitting on his bed, in her jersey with his name and number printed to the back of her football club; it was the custom shirt she had gotten him when she first signed with the club. The athletic shorts clinging onto her thighs didn’t aid him either.
“You’re actually insane if you think I’m gonna let you wear that to any of my races this week. Shit, blue isn’t even our colour, Tesorino.” He complains, mumbling the last sentence out as if he was totally against the idea of her in those tight shorts. “You literally just flew me in from my hotel in Madrid after a match, didn’t say shit about bringing me here to watch the race, Charles. I thought I would have stayed at home to watch because of our schedule clash.”
He kept silent and winced on his part, she wasn’t completely off about that and the fact that he didn’t inform her of it. To be fair, she had known that he had a race this weekend and he would have definitely flown her in. Charles made it a promise to be at every match of hers, if he could and this was one of the matches he couldn’t attend. Not seeing her would kill him either way, it’s a win-win situation.
“Eh but you did win though, a goal and two assists. I’m doing you a favour by letting you recharge by watching me!” He threw her a Ferrari team shirt and black shorts her way as much as he loved seeing her in her own colours, this certainly wasn’t a time for it. “Anyways, why do you have another printed replica of the jersey you got me? Scared you’ll miss me that much huh?”
Rolling her eyes at him as she walked past him, his shirt and shorts in a hand, the other slapping him on his ass. “You need to stop doing that whenever you walk past me! What if they got it on camera? The next thing you’d see is FC Barcelona Femeni Player, Y/n caught slapping Formula One Driver, Charles Leclerc on the ass.” He eyed her as she made her way towards the bathroom.
Shit, he loves her curves of softness. With the muscle of a footballer and those damn thighs, she was the most astonishing girl he had ever met. She had safe eyes, perhaps that's the best way to say it. She had a beauty that made those billboard-princesses look as paper thin as they are, she was something robust and real. That was his girl, it was her before she was his and it was her all of her days.
He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of his best-friend in that light, but growing up with her and watching her mature into what she is today didn’t help. “You’d love that though wouldn’t you? On the front cover newspaper in the sports section and top hashtag on twitter’s trending, that’d certainly boost your Spotify stats and Instagram followers!” She calls from the bathroom, and he pictures her sly smirk on her face.
Yeah fuck, if he wouldn’t love being seen with her although their friendship was already widely known. A shriek escapes her when she runs out of the bathroom, phone in her hand and looking all star struck. “No one told me he would be here!” She shoves her phone up in his face, the Instagram story of Mason Mount by the McLaren garage.
“Mi Tesoro, you literally played against Chelsea’s Women's team in the Champions League recently. Why are you acting all fangirl over him? You didn’t even seem excited to see me by my garage, in my race suit if I must add.” His jaw twitches, watching her bounce around him. “It’s different, I see you almost everyday but I only see him on the pitch when he plays.” Charles hums in response, if that’s what keeps her going then he’s not going to stop it.
“He’s stopping by the Ferrari garage later, I invited him over just because I’m a Chelsea fan too, don’t think I’m doing this just for you.” He watches her jaw drop open and curve up, looking at him as if he hung the stars up for her. But fuck he barely even supported Chelsea, he had never watched a premier league match live even when he was in Silverstone for the race. Well, if that’s what it takes for her to look at him, he wouldn’t mind inviting any Footballers she loves to any other race.
Charles is starting to question if everything he does was for the sake of her smile. The type of smile that reaches his bones, the type of smile that extends to her eyes as the sides crinkles and her dimples on display. “Quit looking at me like that, we have to go if you wanna see your favourite boy on the track and I have a qualifying session to get to.”
“No, you’re my favourite boy for doing this for me.” And there’s a slap to his ass before he knew it, a strangled groan evades his lips as he slips on the Ray-Ban shades. “Will not be doing this for you anymore if you keep slapping my ass, that habit needs to go.” Charles watches as she runs past him, loving the way she donned his team shirt and pants so perfectly that it made him feel something, just a little.
There’s a bounce in her steps when she walks out of the lobby of his apartment, the sun set in the sky as fresh colours brushed upon an artist’s canvas, as if those rays were destined to create a great work of art. The rays dawned upon her, her tan skin illuminated in the hues and Charles watched as she turned around with his cap covering her face from the sunlight.
There was a softness to her appearance, a kind of warmth married to a shyness. “You seem awfully excited about the qualifying session and I wonder why.” He flicks his cap, sauntering past her as they enter the garage, where her eyes had already landed on the English footballer for Chelsea. “You have fun with him, I need to get ready.” Charles bends to leave a peck on her cheek, something he had always done before qualifying or the featured race, he thinks she’s good luck for him.
His fingers hesitated on clicking the Whatsapp icon on his phone and to open the chat with his younger brother. Once in a lifetime thing, it’s now or never and he fears he might never have the balls to do this again.
charles: get me a bouquet of roses on the way here would you?
arthur: lol for y/n? finally getting some pussy aren’t you? 😁
charles: shut up mate, just get them :)
arthur: 👍 but if you fuck it up with her, you’ll lose me as well.
arthur: dude i don’t even know how you got a barça player as your best-friend.
charles: wtf picking my best-friend over your own brother?
charles: she was my best-friend before she became a barça player…
arthur: our best-friend and good luck for quali.
charles: yeah thanks, will do my best.
He shuts his phone off, walking out of his room in his race suit, the custom helmet for his home race in his hand. Greeted by the sight of his best-friend ogling at the footballer beside her with her headset on as he made a beeline towards her. “Hey, nice to finally meet you. Big fan, hoping the team does better next season though.” He pulls Mason in for a hug, a pat on the back before pulling away. “You head back to our home right after qualifying okay? I have a debrief and stuff, it's gonna take a long while.”
“Mhm yeah sure, good luck. Cheering for you always.” She mumbles into the crook of his neck, ruffling his hair before pushing him towards his car. He staggered from the impact of the push and threw a glare her way but never could he get angry at her. Not now or ever.
Sitting in the cockpit with his foot on the throttle, pushing flat out on the last straight before crossing the line with his last attempt of Q3, only two things on his mind. Pole position and roses. Fuck he didn’t even know what he was thinking with the roses. And before he knew it, the static noise from the radio broke his train of thoughts. “And P1, good job Charles.”
His heart was at ease clinching the pole position for his home race, hoping it’d go as smoothly as the featured race tomorrow. One thing off his mind now, the other thing weighed slightly heavier on his shoulders. He’s turning 26 this year, surely asking a girl out would be no challenge for him.
Charles pranced his way towards Max and Carlos, it was a Ferrari front row lockout for the weekend’s qualifying session. Sure he’d love to stick around and celebrate with the team, but not when his prize was right at home waiting for him. “Great work today Carlos, hopefully it goes as well tomorrow.” He clasps the Spaniard by the hand, pulling him for a hug as they make their way towards the Ferrari garage.
“Your flowers, remember don’t fuck it up.” Arthur shoves the bouquet of roses into the right hand of Charles, his left holding on the Pirelli Pole Position tyre. “Charles, I see you finally making a move on the Barça player eh? Good luck mate.” He’s taking the chance to tease Charles, but whatever it takes for Y/n. “Thanks, you’re a Real Madrid fan though, Carlos. Not sure if luck is needed from a Madrid fan…”
He’s in his room, swiftly changing out of his race suit into the team’s attire and attending the quick debrief with the team before leaving the garage. The strides he takes are huge, the roses in his clammy hands, the rapid beating of his heart blaring at his ears. Hell he wasn’t even this nervous during races or qualifying sessions.
Charles is met with the button of the elevator up to his apartment where his best-friend would be sitting on the couch, awaiting him to have dinner together. The elevator was a plain silver box with plain silver buttons and plain silver doors, something he took every day yet it has never felt as confined and as cramped as it was now. Not when his anxiety was eating him alive, everything he had waited for was right in front of him when the elevator doors opened.
The door unlocks with a simple reading of his fingerprint and he sees his favourite girl jumping off the couch and running towards him. Her eyes glued onto the bouquet of roses in his hands, her eyebrows cocking up at the sight. “Which fangirl got this for you?” She nudged him by the elbow, taking a seat on the couch like she was earlier. “Eh, it’s for you.” He hands her the bouquet, craning his neck away from her gaze. “For me? What’s the occasion, or is this some roses your fan girl got you and you give it to me as a donation.”
“No I got it for you, technically I asked Arthur to get it for me so I could give it to you. Anyways, I wouldn’t give you what my fans gave me, are you crazy?” He’s rambling and it’s so absolutely adorable, it’s the fact that he doesn’t know he’s only rambling when he’s nervous but she picked up on his mannerism anyways. “Mhm, thanks Charles. Congrats on the pole today, you were flying out there.”
She rises to her feet, leaving a chaste kiss on his cheek, her arms wrapped around his waist. His heart beating so rapidly and loudly, he’s afraid she might be able to hear it with her head resting against his chest in their stance. This wasn’t just a benign gesture like he thought it’d be, it’s literally a whole love confession.
“I don’t know how to put this but I think I’m in love with you. Okay, maybe not I think but more like I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I don’t think you ever realised how I’ve never been in a relationship, like hell I could have gotten anyone I wanted but it was you I was waiting for, for a long time now if you don’t see it. If you’re willing to give me a chance, I would love to make you the happiest girl alive. So, what do you say? Can I please be your boyfriend, mi tesoro?”
His fingers running through her caramel strands, calms him down a little at her stillness and quietness. “Say something baby, please don’t keep me in suspense.” He’s pleading, and never has he pleaded for anything or anyone. “I don’t know what took you so long to realise the same thing, Charles.”
“Took me Mason Mount and seeing you in my team’s shirt over and over again to realise that.” There’s a huge grin on his face, the deep happiness in the well of his dimples, those dimples that showed her the way home.
“I’d like to thank my brother for the so-so motivational ted talk of choosing you over me if I messed this confession up. I love you, you’re the best-friend I could ever ask for and I promise to be the best boyfriend ever.”
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fluff#charles#leclerc#f1#f1 x you#charles leclerc x reader#fluff#third person#ferrari#f1 ferrari#charles leclerc fanfic#fanfiction#charles leclerc fanfiction#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc drabble#cl16#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#cl16 x you#chlerc
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Wait On Me - ¡Rescue Me! - (Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader)
This is an extract from the Wattpad fanfic I am currently writing, where each chapter is named after a song on Tokio Hotel's "Scream" album :3
Year: 2008
Warnings: Fluff and mentions of depression
My username on Wattpad is @Kazoozia if you're interested in reading the rest!
________.✮.________
After the concert ends and the lights are flashed back on, I feel a rush of fans behind me heading to the exit doors, their footsteps trampling over any litter left abandoned on the ground. I am one of the first people to leave the venue, as I was stuck hovering near the back of the room all night. However, I can't complain. The concert was unbelievable; Tom's rapid and clean guitar solos are still looping in my head after the show. My ears feel muffled and swollen as they are put at ease once the music is turned off, the large amps projecting a sharp ring when they are suddenly unplugged from their instruments. Deafened by their blare, I walk out of the building, feeling the cool breeze of the night slap me across the face as I inch closer to the outside. The realisation of how hot it was in that room hits me like the cold wind around me, melting away at my touch. I move away from the doors, looking around. I see some parents stepping out of their cars, growing impatient as they wait for their kids to come out of the building behind me. Making space for them, I stand at the wall of the venue with the front doors to my left and call myself a taxi back to the hotel.
As I wait for my taxi to arrive, I can't help but think about the concert again and again. I have the whole night playing over in my head like a broken record, repeating the same lyrics and tunes, burning them into the cracks of my brain. I was blown away by the intense energy from the crowd, perfectly complimenting the lively spirit of the band. I think of Bill. I'm still left speechless from his long stare and his teethy smile, shining in my direction. As some fans walk by, I feel their smiling faces glancing over at me, clearly remembering me for the plethora of noise I made at the back. I gently smile back at some of them as they pass, a sudden feeling of embarrassment washing over me, causing the hair on my arms to rise. God, did I disturb the show?
Busy watching the whole concert play out in my mind, I look up, noticing the taxi pull up on the other side of the pavement in front of me. I pull on the car's door and hop inside, watching my head as I lower my body into the vehicle. When I close the door behind me, I feel the car starting, shaking underneath me. It's rough interior brushes up against my bare arms and there is little room for my legs. It smells like hot shit, but I'll cope, I smile to myself. We drive through the lit up streets of Berlin, the city's graffitied walls blending into a solid, bright pink colour as we drive past them with speed. Looking out at the line of buildings and bars, I dig through my right jean pocket, grasping my crumpled up concert ticket in my palm. I uncrumple it a little and gaze at it's contents. I should've asked for a signature, I think to myself. A little bummed, I still doubt that I'll ever forget a night like this; the electricity of the concert rushing through me still. I scrunch up the paper once more and shove it back into my pocket, and as I look up, I see the hotel edging closer towards us. "This is me." I say to the driver, hoping that he stops near here so I don't have to walk back to the front doors from the parking lot behind the building. To my surprise, he stops just at the front doors of the hotel. I guess luck is on my side tonight, I think. I feel the car stop, the force pushing me forward a little until I bounce back into my seat again. I thank the driver and pay him for the trip, and as I exit the car I glance at my watch, "10.40pm" staring back at me.
Holding onto the straps of my backpack, I enter through the hotel doors and check into my room after a long, eventful night. I stumble towards the elevator doors and step inside, grazing my fingers over the buttons, until pressing one that leads to the 5th floor. In the elevator, I feel my eyelids starting to lay heavy on my eyes, covering them over almost fully. I sway as the elevator travels from the bottom of the building right to the top, until I hear the 'ding' of the elevator stopping at my floor. As the doors slide open and reveal my face to the other side, I collect myself, step out and take a turn to my right, now walking towards my hotel room. I walk with my eyes half shut, tired and worn from the excitement of the night. On my way down the corridor, I walk past a few people, not batting an eye as they pass; until I hear someone call out from behind me. At first I don't think to turn around, assuming the call is directed to someone else in the hallway. All of the sudden, I feel firm footsteps running towards me, causing cold air to hit my back from the sudden movement. Before I turn around I feel a slight tap on my shoulder. I stop in my step and watch how this tall figure steps in front of me, cutting me off. They are now facing me. Silence settles between us, before they finally speak up. "Sorry to bother...uh...you dropped this" they hand me a crumpled piece of paper. A look of confusion shoots through my face which soon relaxes when I uncrumple the paper, realising that it's my concert ticket. "So...you're a fan I'm guessing" I hear them smile through their words, making me look up slowly. A sharp spark shoots into my throat, through my veins and burns at my fingertips.
It's Bill. Bill Kaulitz. My mouth peers open when I see his face, looking down at me with a smile. His hair is still caked with hairspray, now a little more flat, leaving only some strands pointing up to the ceiling. His fully black, emo attire contrasts with the yellow hallway lights, beaming above us. He looked like my shadow, ominously towering over me. "Oh my god.." I blurt out, not intending him to hear. "Bill, uh..." I shake my head, electricity rushing through me. "What are you...doing here?" I scrunch my eyebrows. He looks down at the floor for a second and then glances back at me before answering. "I'm just..." He thinks "on a walk around the building!" As he examines my face his eyebrows slowly lower and he turns his head slightly to the side. "Were you...at my concert? This nights concert?...You were the girl at the back right? The one screaming." he huffs gently, smiling and awaiting my answer which he clearly already knows.
"Yeah-" I chuckle and nod "yeah that was me up there...I hope I didn't disturb the concert too much." I smile awkwardly.
"No way!" His smile widens, revealing his teeth "You killed it! You brought that concert to life!" I bite the inside of my cheek as I smile, surprised by his enthusiasm. "And you...you were amazing up there- the...the whole band was. you killed that." I say, shaking my head. Bill laughs quietly and looks down at his feet, taking in my praise before opening his mouth to say something. "Thank you thank you...tonight was great for me too, I only fucked up like...once or twice" We both laugh and I notice him looking me up and down subtly.
"It was perfect, don't stress it." I say, reassuring him. We stand in silence for a moment, not knowing what else to say when I finally speak up, breaking our eye contact. "Well, I'll let you go now, you can have your...stroll around the building" I say jokingly. Bill looks away, chuckling softly. "Yeah uh...I'll do that!..." He takes a step forward, heading up the corridor before suddenly hesitating. "Oh my god I'm awful...I don't think I got your name sorry..." He stutters a little when he says this, anticipating my answer. Charmed by his awkwardness, I smile and gaze into his eyes. "y/n" I say, nodding my head.
"y/n" He repeats my name back, letting it's taste settle in his mouth. After a moment of brief silence, he breaks our eye-contact, his eyes shooting quick glances at me "Well, I hope you have a nice night y/n." Standing inches away from me, he raises his arm out, inviting me to shake it. I take his hand gently, feeling his cold rings pressing against my fingers. He looks at me for just a second longer and heads down the corridor before I can say my goodbyes. I turn back, my eyes following the back of his head.
Stricken with shock, I'm stunned to my core. What the hell just happened, I think, my back now to him. I just spoke to Bill fucking Kaulitz. Although I am frozen over in shock, I still feel a sort of warmth clustering inside my stomach. I think of his awkward smiles and prolonged stares. In that moment he was so...human. Up until now I've never really seen him in this light, as the only light that is flickered onto him is through interviews and photoshoots; where he is glamorised and simplified, leaving out the human part of him in between each flicker. Seeing his authenticity slip through his stutter, made me realise that Bill in fact is not a shadow that towers over me which I can morph into my own liking, but a person; one like me. I look down at the concert ticket, now warm in my grasp. Maybe I don't need that signature after all.
________.✮.________
Rummaging my keys through the keyhole, I step inside my breezy hotel room, locking the door behind me. I had left some windows open before leaving for the concert, which left the day's cold breath swirling around the room, blowing on the long and cheap curtains which brush against the carpeted floor. Feeling the air grazing my arms, I take a hold of my elbows in a gentle embrace while I step towards one of the windows, reaching over to shut it. A final huff of air escapes the window as I close it, shuffling the curtains delicately before they settle at last. I look out at the city below me, the sky painted a rich blue with shiny white glitter scattered all over. The moon casts a beam of light onto the city's buildings, which disappears into their shadows, creating a maze of black alleyways in between them. Admiring the view at my feet, I pull the curtains over the window, the rings holding them up jamming as I force them towards me. The moon's faint light still peers through the thin fabric, reflecting onto the carpet. With little light in the room, I shuffle towards the small lamp on table next to my bed, and blindly feel the switch with my fingers before pressing it. As the room bursts into a warm wash of light, I set my bag down on the ground next to the dresser.
What a night, I think. The exhaustion from the long day hits me once more, and I feel myself yawn as I stretch my arms out in front of me and rest them on my head. I take a moment to breathe, process. My mind is fogged with moments from the concert and the taxi and the ticket and Bill. Bill. Mostly Bill. The realisation that he is in the same building as me right now is slowly setting in, leaving me speechless. God. What if I run into him again? That would be awkward...I think? I don't know. I can't think right now. I need to uh...
I rub my eyes with both hands, wanting to keep myself awake. Trying to gather my thoughts, I look around again before untying my converse and unzipping my jeans, sliding them off of my legs in a struggle. I pick my jeans up with one hand and throw them into the corner of the room, where a pile of the rest of my dirty (or not so dirty) clothes helplessly lie. Honestly, I lost track of what pile that is a while ago. I stumble towards the small bathroom across from me and I hit the light switch with my hand, its bright flash blinding me. I hold onto the edge of the bathtub in the room, propping myself up while I turn the shower on and wait for the warm water to flow through its pipes. The cold and sharp water drips onto my knuckles, sprinkling me with its thin shards; I wiggle my hand above the bath, shaking it off. grabbing my band shirt by its sides, I pull it over my head and arms, dropping it onto the bathroom floor. As I hear it fall behind me, I slip out of my underwear and step into the tub, watching my head on the railing above. The water is warming up now and I can feel its warm droplets hitting against my skin, washing away the excitement of the night.
I stand in the shower for almost an hour, letting the water cleanse my mind as well as my skin. The burning steam from the shower fogs up the glass surrounding it, trapping the heat inside as it sinks into my pores. After allowing the water to warm me up completely, I sigh and turn the shower off, carefully stepping out of the tub. I grab a towel off of its rack which is bolted onto the wall, first drying myself off and then using it to wrap my hair in a tight turban. I walk out of the bathroom, hearing the soles of my feet patter on the damp floor under me after each step. I wander over to my white sheeted bed and throw myself onto it, my eyes looking up at the ceiling above me. I sit for a while in silence, my mind tired and still fogged with the hot steam which soon disintegrates into the air, revealing the thoughts which I had suppressed the whole night.
What am I doing? I think. I glance over to my bedside table which holds a small lamp, a pile of university leaflets and pages of forms to fill out. I sigh and roll onto my side, my eyes now pointing to my laptop; I haven't turned it on since I got here a week ago. I've been avoiding writing for weeks now, which is definitely not helping me develop my portfolio. Stupid fucking portfolio. mountains of monologues and poems that I never manage to rhyme properly. They say I need to showcase my best work, for the world to know what I can do. But I just...can't. I can't help but keep proving that all of this is for nothing. I don't know what's wrong with me...I wanted this, I did. I said I would travel all the way out here to find a decent university that will take me in for what I am, for what I can do. For what I thought I could do. But what if I can't do this anymore? What if I'm sick of trying? What if these pages I'm writing mean nothing and I'm wasting my time trying to be understood. When the world was made for visuals and I can only communicate with words. God. My mind spirals down into a hole, the same hole that was left deep within me when my music career failed and plummeted into it. I'm so scared that writing will dig deeper, leaving me hallow. I notice my breath quicken as these thoughts race through me and even as I wallow in self pity, I hold myself, forcing any comfort I could find left within me onto myself.
I yawn gently, looking around the dimly lit room as the bedside lamp flickers slightly. I reach over to the drawer, pulling it open with ease and dig out my silver iPod mini, clutching it and the earphones dangling from it in the palm of my hand. Switching off the lamp, I pull the hotel's white duvet over me; soft folk melodies singing me to sleep. Laying with my thoughts tangling in my head, I skip a song and a familiar tune starts to play: "This used to be our secret...Now I'm hiding here alone..." It was 'Rescue Me'. I remind myself of the the same lyrics that played at the concert a few hours ago. Hours ago when loud music also drowned out my thoughts. I curl up into a ball as the song plays, feeling the duvet absorb my body heat and create a soft mist of heat hovering over me like a warm aura. I fall fast asleep, screaming in my head, my voice desperately trying to escape me. "...My S.O.S on radio...The only chance to let you know...What I fear...Can you hear?...Come and rescue me..."
________.✮.________
- teethondafloor (Zuźka)
#bill kaulitz#tokio hotel#tom kaulitz#spotify#emocore#pop punk#bill kaulitz 2023#bill kaulitz fanfic#bill kaulitz x reader#bill kaulitz smut#bill kaulitz fluff#fanfic#fanfiction#wattpad#2000s music#2000s aesthetic#2000s emo#2000s#2010s#early 2010s#mental health#depressing shit#fluff#writing#music#gay pride#fem reader#yn#ao3#ao3 fanfic
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