I feel like Soap or Gaz would happen to reveal something about themselves to a group of close friends that just makes everything awkward and slightly changes the whole dynamic, just enough so it feels...icky. And weird. So they stick with the people who truly understand them, even if it hurts that the others don't really wanna interact with them anymore, because it just gets awkward.

Nothing Is What It Seems 4

Pairing: Im Jaebum x Hybrid!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: language, mentions of anger issues, mentions of trauma, mentions of blackmail and threatening.

<three

It had been a week since you were first brought to JaeBeom’s apartment. A week of being curled on the couch with the excuse of recovering from the trauma that didn’t leave a single scar on your body besides a small fever, eating three good-sized meals a day, and taking hot showers every night, letting your hair be dry with care. None of you were complaining, but you're trying to make yourself decide to leave, before getting too used to the house life again. The owner's life you swore to never get back to.

“I’m going to buy groceries, do you want anything in special?” JaeBeom’s head popped from the kitchen’s entrance, making you glance back from your spot at the window - it was snowing and you found it so pretty - to look at him, pensive.

“I eat whatever, you know me,” you started with a shrug. “But are you going out right now? It’s starting to snow…”

“Yeah I know you love my food, but you do have your favorites.” He teased, walking towards you as he stuck his wallet on his pocket, glancing towards the window and missing the way you rolled your eyes at his witty remark. “As for the snow, it’s fine since the place is nearby and I’m taking my car. I’d even offer you to go with me but you’re still not a hundred percent to face snow yet…” he rambled as if he was talking to himself rather than you. Later on, you’d think how much of that was an excuse to keep you in the apartment but at that moment you only focused on the fact that he did indirectly offered a car ride.

“I could go, help to buy some stuff… I’m stronger right now, the fever’s already gone down.” You stated, feeling slightly embarrassed by your eagerness on getting out of the house, do something on the snow. Even if you’ve suffered an attack, it wasn’t the season’s fault and you weren’t afraid of the cold. Humans were the scary ones.

JaeBeom hummed in thought and there was a tightness in your heart as you thought that he was going to say no to your proposal, and was about to take it back when the back of his hand pressed on your forehead, a little frown between his brows as you sat there stunned.

“Yeah, you’re not so warm anymore, that’s good.” Taking his hand away he smiled satisfied, while you were still feeling the heat of his hand on your skin. “I’m going to lend you an extra coat just to be sure before we head out, okay?”

You nodded as he turned back to the hallway to get said object, and you tried to get your bearings together after the caring touch knocked your defenses off so easily. It wasn’t a feeling of just being taken care of like an owner would care for a pet, even if as genuine. It was something else, you couldn’t exactly place it, the casual and so well-accepted touch just stirred something inside of you.

Brushing it off, you decided to focus on the next thing: You’d go on a car ride.

Of course, that brought you some memories, things of the past you used to avoid but at that moment they were funny to recall. In total, you’d gone in a car ride 5 times in your whole life. All of them were with your brother JiMin, all of them extremely fun. You loved the feeling of being seated in the passenger seat and see the world outside pass so fast as if you were running at full speed without losing focus of the sidelines. It felt like magic. JiMin had said you resembled a dog rather than a cat for that feature, and as much as you didn’t like it, you had to admit it was true.

“Here, this one is a long coat, will keep you warm as a whole.” The beige long coat was handed to you from the side and you snapped out from your thoughts to grab it. As usual, it smelled like JaeBeom and you had to stop yourself from sinking your nose on the fluffy insides. As you got up and tied it on, it looked just like a dress, reaching the floor and hiding the top of your feet. JaeBeom snickered and you glared at him.

“What?” You questioned with a squint, to what he scoffed once more.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about how my clothes look so much better on you, that’s all.” He commented off-handedly, turning away and walking towards the door as you tried to get your shit together, warmth blooming up your neck.

That was nothing. Maybe you had misjudged about the fever subsiding, after all. Surely, you wouldn’t make any comments about it.  

—

The ride to the supermarket was short, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. The windows could not be open because of the snow but you still had a good view of the streets passing by quickly. It even felt just like before, even prettier because of the season.

There was also the ride back anyway, so she was looking forward to that when stepping inside the grocery store.

After a while, you could only ask yourself how JaeBeom was thinking of carrying all that by himself if he had come alone, seeing that you were already pushing a second cart already halfway full behind his.

“Do you want anything?” JaeBeom asked, turning to face you as he finished checking the shopping list on his phone. You were taken by surprise with the question, never in your life asked what you really wanted, rather given what the others thought you deserved. Lately, it hadn’t been good things at all, so maybe that’s why you felt your heart squeezing a little. “Something yummy for the ride back?”

“Uhm no, I’m not even hungry yet-” but to prove you wrong, that was the moment your stomach decided to announce loudly that mealtime had come. JaeBeom snickered, quirking an eyebrow as he picked a box of pocky, handing it to you.

“Here, I’ll pick another for myself on the way out.” His tone was still soft, breathiness that still indicated the need to chuckle at the indignant sound produced by your body. He was such a child. Still, you grabbed it, placing it at the small basket inside the cart, pouting in embarrassment and resuming to follow him, as JaeBeom moved toward the cashiers.

Thinking about it, you had learned quite a lot about Jaebeom in the time you spent at his house. He was really hard-working, leaving early and getting back home late from the restaurant, even if he was the owner of it; he was kind and warm, sometimes a little shy and awkward around you, but respectful. Nothing like the man that once owned you, JaeBeom treated you like a human rather than a hybrid or a pet, and that was probably the thing you liked the most about him. You’d miss seeing him every day once you had to get back.

“Y/N?” As soon as you stepped outside the store, heavy bags in hand and a pocky half chew in between your teeth, GeoJong’s figure materialized itself in front of you, looking kind of rough, but mostly surprised. Oh yeah, it had been some time since you last saw him. Maybe something of what happened to you reached his ears, but probably no one knew about your situation. “Holy fuck, you're alive!”

You breathed out, feeling the presence of JaeBeom behind you the next second. GeoJong’s eyes landed on him and you immediately felt the hairs on your nape stand as the astonished expression turned into a smirk. Clearly he was up to no good. He’s never been. “And you’ve got yourself some owner, huh?”

“I’m not her owner, mister.” Was JaeBeom’s response, then turning to look at you as you still stood there, not knowing what to do exactly. “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah… Yeah.” You nodded, eyes still boring into the hybrid in front of you. “What you want, squeak?”

The way of you addressing him made GeoJong snort, holding his chest in false hurt. “Whoa, easy there tiger. I’m just happy to see you, that’s all. I heard someone punks had tried to… You know, send you to a better place as a Christmas gift and seems like you did huh?” You rolled your eyes at his remark, his characteristic laugh showing how he thought himself witty with the bad joke. Behind you, JaeBeom was eerily silent.

“You’re so funny, really.” You quipped, and sarcasm was heavy in your tone. “Well, now you know I’m alive and unfortunately, I know you are too. If you’ll excuse me, we’re leaving.” And like that you twirled around, JaeBeom following suit without hesitation.

“Hey, I just want you to know that I’ll be here, in case you need my help with this one… Again.” GeoJong shouted when you weren’t still far away enough, making you stop walking and literally hiss over your shoulder at the now scurrying rat. Nothing could have been worse than meeting that scum that night. You prepared internally for the questions that would come.

Though they never came.

You were expecting that JaeBeom - reasonably so - would bombard you with questions about who was that hybrid and what he had meant with his last shout, but besides looking mildly upset, he didn’t utter a word. You weren’t sure if he was angry at you or not, so you decided to just look outside the window, trying to calm your nerves with the scenery.

“Hey,” you started off timidly, reaching to grab his sleeve as you two went to unload the trunk. JaeBeom turned to look at you with a frown, softening as he saw you step back at the expression. He’d never looked at you like this and it kind of triggered your flight instincts. Clearing your throat, you continued: “About earlier I-”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. It’s not my business.” He cut you, shoulders relaxing. “I’m not angry at you or anything, by the way. It’s just…” as he trailed off your heart immediately sank, thinking that he was going to ask you to get out of his home. It was only reasonable. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m caging you here, Y/N. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, or come back when you need to, okay?”

You stood there, wheels in your head turning as you tried to make out the man in front of you. There was a tickling feeling in the pit of your belly that sizzled up slowly towards your throat, coming out in a short scoff seeing how JaeBeom was actually upset at himself, for some reason you couldn’t decipher.

“Then I guess I’ll be using more of your hospitality, JaeBeom.”

A bad day. (I just need to rant into the abyss of the internet)

I’ve never actually left work early for a bad day before. But I felt that today if I didn’t, I’d end up embarrassing myself and ruining all of my relationships with my coworkers or better yet end up in the HR office. It was just an accumulation of a few too many small things that have been building up for months while I’m emotionally vulnerable.

I also know that none of my coworkers will ever see this post. But even if they do, I doubt they were aware of my feelings. The worst part is that nothing is really anyone’s fault. There’s no bad guy, and that makes it all the more frustrating, and that finally came to a head today. Because I can’t chew people out for doing nothing wrong. Sorry for the long post. Lotta resentments getting bottled up.

So context. 1. My grandfather has been in declining health for a while now. This isn’t very upsetting for me. He’s in his mid 90s and lived a full life. We were all provided for and everything is taken care of. For me, it feels more like a natural thing that is now finally happening. My aunt and my father have been fighting for years over different things, but my grandfather’s declining health has definitely rekindled the flames of war. 2. I work in TV animation production, and my goal is to become a storyboard artist. I’ve made that goal clear. I’ve asked for tests but I can never get any. I’ve asked for feedback and no one has given me any. The shining star of this was my boss giving me 5 long minutes of not quite saying “it’s not good enough.” I figured he was busy and didn’t want to hurt my feelings. He did say that if he hadn’t hired our then current revisionist, he’d love to have me start as one. Since then, he’s hired 4 more revisionists who have come and gone for different reasons. 3. I don’t think I draw that fucking bad. I’ve been told my artists I work with “why don’t you have an art job yet?” which the answer is “because no one will fucking give me one when I ask and you guys aren’t in a position to.” (they mean it as a compliment but it just really keeps bringing me down whenever I fail) And there are a lot of people my age getting art jobs while I’m not and yah I’m not that old but it’s very stressful and discouraging regardless of logic and optimism. 4. My intern this last semester showed my boss a sample board and got extensive notes and feedback and was offered freelance revision work even though she’s still a junior in college. She’s 3 years younger than me and was here for 2 months. My boss literally walked into my office then started talking to her in the adjacent cube over the wall about how good she is and the upcoming freelance revisionist work. And I have to sit there quietly and pretend it’s not killing me. 5. I’m lactose intolerant. 6. I guess I’ve been suffering from job related depression for the above reasons. Nothing major, I’m not suicidal, but I’m definitely very unhappy and going to work is definitely not a fun or even neutral experience anymore. It’s hard because the correct answer to my problem is “git gud’ and we all know how NOT FUCKING HELPFUL that is. Today 1. I get a text from my parents at 6 am telling me that my grandfather has passed away. We went over yesterday to say our goodbyes expecting him to pass either today or tomorrow. We left at around 8pm and asked my aunt to call us when he passed and that we’d come over. So my parents find out that he passed away at 6 am today. From a third party that isn’t even FUCKING RELATED TO US. Apparently my grandfather had passed away 10 minutes after we left yesterday, and she decided not to let us know. We had to find out through some other person offering my father his condolences. 2. Well the two coworkers I am closest with were late for miscellaneous reasons so I kinda had to keep #1 bottled up for 2 hours. 3. When things happen, I bluster and storm for the first hour before calming down and becoming rational. So I’m sitting at my desk all morning trying my best to keep my shit together because I’m absolutely fuming and was (forbid) by my mother to retaliate. She’s not wrong but there’s a lotta stress and emotions here. (3.5. Although I was directly forbid retaliation, I still went ahead and planned it anyways because it was a mildly constructive use of my stress. DM me if you want to know how to ruin someone’s entire week and never get caught.) 4. I took some Lactaid 30 minutes before I decided to finish my leftover mac n cheese from the fancy food truck yesterday as breakfast. Yah the Lactaid didn’t work at all for some ungodly reason... It’s 9am and I’m in a lot of pain both physically and emotionally now.... 5. So one of my favored coworkers finally beats traffic and gets in so I go to talk to her about all of this. I immediately get cry-y. Which blah blah blah crying is part of grieving but I can do that later. It’s not great when I’m at work because crying opens up the floodgate of emotions and the near impossible task of re-wrangling them under control is now daunting. Emotional fortitude -50. And people just kinda didn’t notice that I was crying and upset and not very quietly recounting this horrible morning story. They kinda walked right by. Not a single person other than that one coworker (and my other favored one who came in a bit later) offered me any condolences or asked about how I was doing of if I was ok. It’d be one thing if that happened and no one was around and I regained my composure. BUT I DIDN’T. 6. That fucking intern (who’s a nice person but god I wish they’d stop existing in my life. It’s fucking petty but today is really the worst day for it so fuck it I’m saying it.) is coming in for a big storyboard meeting between all the board artists, revisionists, and supervisors. So I had to see her and pretend to smile and be pleasant and supportive while I’m emotionally compromised, grieving, pissed, and now petty and jealous all over again. So I get that out of the way and I sit back down and get to work. 7. The other coworker I like to talk to comes in. She was a former intern who also wants to be a board artist so we try to help each other in our endeavors together. She’s an optimist. She says that she’s going to ask if she can sit in on the meeting and asks if I’d like to come along. Bless her outgoing-ness that I struggle with. But as much as I’d like to... that’s a room full of people who either forgot that I want to be a board artist, don’t care, or are straight up ignoring me about it and keep doing and saying all of these unintentionally hurtful things to and near me. Also that fucking intern is there. Also I’m pissed. Also I’m emotionally distraught. So I declined her offer. Even if I could get something good out of that meeting, I’m pretty sure I would have just had a breakdown in the corner. So I didn’t want to embarrass myself like that or make people feel uncomfortable for doing their normal business. 8. So by this point I’m sure I’m going to be snippy or mean or start crying in front of people, so my goal was to finish my most important task and leave at noon. I finish, I grab my bag to leave. As I do, they all get out of their storyboard meeting and bluster past me because they are now late for seeing the storyboard trainee program final presentations. GREAT. 9. Another production coworker of mine comments on how its important for them to go in case they see anyone they’d like to hire as a revisionist. I fianlly hit FUCKIT and say “IM GOING HOME.” And so I go to walk to the elevators. 10. I chose the wrong time to walk to the elevators because everyone in that meeting is waiting at the elevators to go look at the storyboard trainee presentations and scope out the new talent. They’re in too much of a busy mind to notice that I’m about to cry and am probably glaring with white knuckles as I clutch my bag. Luckily for me the elevator is full and I have an excuse to take the next one and not theirs. A part of me wished that they would say “come on in! i’m sure you can fit!” But... stuff like that never happens with them. No one goes out of their way to include me in things. So... whatever. Maybe I’m just being negative trying to find the bad in every little thing, but this is a rant so I’m going to do just that because fuck the consequences of people liking me and thinking I know how to adult properly. 11. I’m driving home and get a message from my coworker (glanced at a long red dont arrest me pls wait till tomorrow) saying that the intern asked if I had sent her intern evaluation to her school yet. I did. A few weeks ago. This isn’t really a bad thing it’s just that I was finally fucking free and just about to not have any reason to keep it together but then BAM. Intern shows up in my life again. Right after I though it was all over. A little god damn poke. Now So I managed to drive home without crashing into buildings or furiously honking and I am now just holding my cat and typing this. I’m pretty sure none of my coworkers will ever see this. A part of me wishes they would and that maybe they’d care, because I really don’t want to have to start a conversation specifically about all of this with them.    Who the hell starts a conversation with: “By the way boss, can you please stop discussing giving the intern freelance work when I’m within earshot let alone in my god damn 6′x8′ cube?” “Hey boss, remember when I asked you for feedback and got none? Why does the intern get your full attention when you are even busier?” “Hey boss, why have you hired 4 more revisionists when you said that’d you’d love to have me as one? Did you forget? Were you just lying to me because you didn’t know how to give me feedback? Did you even care about what you say to me?” “Hey intern, I understand you are excited and this is a great opportunity for you, but can you please read the room at least a little because I want to cry every single time?” “Hey everyone, I want to be a board artist remember? REMEMBER?” ”Hey everyone... I’m an artist too.” “Hey everyone, can anyone just give me a little help?” ”Hey everyone, if I keep my purse stocked with your allergy medications, pain killers, band aids, digestive relief, girly goods and keep good snacks around and remember your schedules and try to make your jobs easier and serve as your primary IT person...will you remember that I’m here?” “Hey everyone, do you all dislike me or do you all just not care enough to notice me?” They’re all good people, but it’s not stuff that I really know how to say just out of the blue. So today... I just couldn’t stand being even in my own cube anymore. I’m not an outgoing entrepreneurial person who bugs people everyday trying to sell themselves as an artist. I’m someone who tells you my intentions, and asks for help, and then believes people when they tell me sorry they’re busy, that they wish they could help, that they’d love to have me if only not for “x”. No one is entitled to give me a job or help me. But... I don’t get why I’m the only one who gets nothing for a response when I do ask. If they were busy, that’d be fine. But since then things have gotten busier, and my boss personally worked through multiple iterations of my intern’s practice board with her. A good piece of advice I got was that your first 5 tests are awful...but I can’t even get anyone to give me my first one. I’m told to work hard and “git gud”. But it feels like I’m just bashing my head against a brick wall, and no one even acknowledges the effort. It feels like if I decide to stop doing that because I’m about to have a breakdown, I’ll be looked down on as a quitter and not passionate enough. I have passion, but all of this is 100% killing it, and I don’t want to hate art. I really don’t. But I’m starting to. It’s hard for me to enjoy it when now it’s only done to seek attention and approval that I’ll never get from these people. Today would have been difficult still, but not unbearable if not for that. My grandfather’s death isn’t a tragedy for me. He was in pain for a long time and he definitely made the most of his life. The tragedy is that despite all of this, my aunt decided that my family didn’t deserve to know that our grandfather, my father’s father (who lives literally 5 minutes away by car), had passed. I’m definitely not looking forward to the memorial service for my grandfather. Not because the death is hard to deal with but because all of the family there is. Would love to make life terrible for my aunt. Would love to be just as petty. I have so many colorful things to say and do. But ultimately none of that matters. It’s just death. Nothing changes it or adds a new flavor to it. So all of that anger and hurt just kinda snowballed today. And to top it all off as I’m typing this some asshole is beating a dog somewhere in the neighborhood and the dog is screaming and yelping. (called the police so hopefully they find them) Thanks for reading this long negative rant. I hope it helps anyone who is feeling similarly frustrated, because I dont have someone around who’s breaking down quite like I am so this is all I have. Shooting it into the internet in a passive aggressive attempt and chance that maybe someone who needs to read it will. Positive news: I watered my plants with the extra time. I hugged my cat. I will be returning with art for Mermay.

First Love was a Lie || pt. 1

credits to @jimiyoong

pairing: Jimin | Yoongi genre: fluff, future smut and slight angst warning: none!! words: 1.4k

a/n: aaa im finally posting again yay!! sorry it’s been long since i last posted my writing, school’s been busy and im packed with assignments to do… this won’t be a long series and hopefully i’ll be updating regularly! exam’s coming up in 3 weeks so i might take a break from the series halfway through, so sorry in advance! but i hope you guys enjoyed this first part (〃▽〃)

“Gah. I’m not doing this anymore. It doesn’t make any sense! It’s practically pointless.” Jimin complained as he threw his pen across the table, before plonking his head down on the table. Mathematics was the subject that he hated the most. That being said, he took no interest in any other subjects in school, apart from dance and music production.

“Come on. You’ve been stuck on question one since forever…It’s been half an hour since class started.” Taehyung glanced over at Jimin, who was now drooling over his crumpled worksheet. Taehyung shook his head in silent disapproval, giving Jimin a hard slap on the back.

“Get up, idiot.”

Much to Taehyung’s irritation, Jimin merely responded with a slight groan, scrunching his brows together.

“Tsk. This kid…”

-

The busy chattering and laughter filled the first floor of the crowded school during lunch time, and Jimin sat at the far corner of the canteen, staring blankly into the void with his half-lidded eyes. He heaved a heavy sigh, propping his chin on his palms as his lips fell into a pout.

He’d never felt so lonely ever since his best friend, Hoseok, graduated and moved to a dance academy far away in Seoul. From then on, it was difficult to go to dance class - after he had been hit with the realisation that he would probably never be able to dance with Hoseok anymore. The occasional text that Hoseok sends comforts him once in awhile, sure, but that temporary relief never lasted more than a short moment.

“Snap out of it, and get your lonely ass off my chair.” Taehyung shooed as he slammed his food tray on the table with a loud clank. Jimin grunted, pulling a chair over with his leg and moved over sluggishly.

“What’s up with you?”

“Ugh!” Jimin exclaimed, ruffling a small hand through his fluffed up hair. “Bored, bored and bored.”

“Look, I get it. Hobi-hyung’s graduated and you miss him. But it’s been half a goddamn year! I can’t say that I don’t miss him, but get over it will ya? It’s not like you can’t visit him in Seoul during school holidays…” Taehyung poked at his food with a hesitant fork, glancing over at the boy slumped over the table.

“It’s not the same without him…And it’s not just about the dance class. Everything else! I basically did everything with him. He’s my best friend, Tae. Our best friend. It’s just. So weird without him.”

There was a moment of silence before Taehyung sighed loudly, dragging the back of his hand across his lips to wipe off bits of food remnants sitting at the corner of his mouth. It was clear he wanted to change the topic, unwilling to continue indulging in Jimin’s bout of self-isolation. “Oh, that’s right.” He said, tone suddenly brighter, “Have you heard about the new kid joining us tomorrow?”

“A transfer in the middle of the year?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders and nodded lazily, “I guess so.”

Taking a quick glance at the clock hanging by the entrance into the cafeteria, Taehyung picked up his empty tray and clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Come on, we’ve got to get to class.”

The thought of sitting through another two hours of class bored him to death. Jimin pressed his lips into a thin line, running his stubby fingers through his unkempt hair once again, adjusting his the thick, black frame of his glasses before pulling himself up from the chair.

“Yeah.” He muttered.

Giggles and mutters filled the hallways as Jimin and Taehyung strolled passed the lockers, girls (and boys) taking quick but shy glances at the both of them before turning away quickly and squealing among themselves. Hands buried deep in his pockets, Jimin’s lips morphed into a slight smirk, almost as if he was enjoying the attention that he was getting. Well, he was. It was always an ego boost to see others appreciating his, in Tae’s exact words, poppin’ good looks.

“Wipe that smirk off your face Jimin.” Tae remarked, his mouth quirking up at the corners, “It’s not like you care to date anyone of them anymore.”

“Well, I’m not the only one they’re looking at.”

Once they had reached class, the duo settled down at their usual corner at the back of the room. Reclining in his chair, Jimin reached under his table and pulled out a stack of beautifully folded letters. Some were covered with the scent of perfume, some were topped with laced stickers, others were just plainly decorated with the word “Saranghaeyo, oppa~!” on it. Love letters. They were always mildly embarrassing, but so flattering.

“Shall add these to the pile I collected after break two hours ago, and maybe stack them in my growing collection back at home?” Jimin said half-jokingly.

“Why don’t you just throw them away if you aren’t gonna read them?”

“I read them, and it’s amusing. It’s my only source of entertainment nowadays, Tae.”

“As if. Don’t tell me you’re weren’t entertained when Namjoon broke the fridge the other day.”

The memory of Jin-hyung’s horrified expression coupled with Namjoon’s mortified apologies flashed through his mind suddenly, and Jimin couldn’t help but let out a snort of amusement. “Okay, yeah. That too.”

-

There was no reason to explain the restlessness Jimin felt that night after school. Instead of taking time to arrange his scores and working on choreographs like he usually did, he stared blankly at his computer screen. Fidgeting and tugging at the corner of his blanket, Jimin chewed on the insides of his cheeks.

“A transfer, huh.” He caught himself muttering. His heart pumped excitedly at the fact that he’d finally be able to see someone new in school. Ever since Hoseok-hyung left, he never had the chance to find anyone else that was as fun and interesting to hang out with, besides Taehyung.

Tossing his laptop to the side of the bed, Jimin leaned backwards to sink deep into his soft bed. Clutching tightly to his pillows, he took a deep breath as the scent of strawberry cream candles filled his dimly lit room. Jimin closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the wall clock ticking incessantly in the quiet room, lulling him to sleep.

-

Taehyung was surprised to see how exceptionally well-dressed Jimin was the next day. Instead of his usual I’m-an-overworked-college-kid look, Jimin strolled into class with his suede oversized sweater, the one that hung gorgeously off his delicate collarbones - one hand holding on to the loose straps of his bag while the other buried deep within the pockets of his ripped black jeans.

His silver gelled-hair was styled perfectly, and he wearing hazelnut-brown contacts instead of his usual glasses, something he usually saved for special occasions.

“Whoa.” Taehyung remarked, glancing at Jimin from head to toe.

“Why are you looking at me as if you’re seeing me for the first time?” Jimin asked, pulling the chair out from under the table roughly before settling down beside Taehyung.

“It’s just…Wow.”

Taehyung shifted his gaze back to his phone as a tall, skinny woman walked into class. Tapping of her thick heels impatiently, she waited for everyone in class to give her their attention. It was their lecturers, and one of the most boring ones, at that.

Lagging behind her was someone Jimin assumed was the new transfer student. It took a grand total of one look at him and suddenly, Jimin was so thankful he’d chosen to spend an extra thirty minutes on his appearance in the morning.

The boy who had just stepped into the classroom was just a tad taller than he was, yet inexplicably he was seemed to be so much narrower. His messy, ruffled mint-green hair framed his face perfectly - who could even pull off that cotton candy colour? Flashing a quick grin at the students in class, Jimin caught sight of the light glint of a lip ring nestled very attractively in the corner of his bottom lip. Oh, good God.

Jimin gripped onto the sides of his chair, unable to take his eyes off the new transfer. He was totally oblivious to the things that were happening around him, and for some reason, he found himself holding onto his breath. Taehyung seemed oblivious to his suffering.

The transfer introduced himself in a slow, lazy drawl that had just the slightest bits of Daegu satoori present in the ends of his words. Through the sound of his very loud heartbeat, Jimin heard nothing but his name.

“Min Yoongi.”

Side note – Josh is ambiguously ill – he’s potentially schizophrenic, potentially not; obviously sick, yes, but with? He’s an inherently, intrinsically, fundamentally disturbed man/person; his dreams are more or less play-by-play snap-recollections of traumatic and/or traumatizing events/memories; the death of his mother, sustained and prolonged physical/emotional abuse – a tragic etc.etc.etc – a sort of perfect storm and concoction of various so and so issues that express themselves in a passingly/cursory sadism and machoism that can only be really described as edging; a sort of halfway-gratifying externalization of deeply internalized thoughts and feelings that does, eventually, lead to his ultimate “demotion”

Rye

From: [email protected] (you) To:[email protected] CC:

Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:Re(…) daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?)

04-19-2004

just because i dont say it dosent mean i dont think it

i feel more than i am on the outside a tired and slow procession of empty emotion and really if I were to choose a word to describe how and as i am it would be that -- tired literally metaphorically fundamentally i am a dead man barley half-way brought back to life (re: Lazarus) very weakly trying to claw his way back into a familiar grave (cliché yes true yes -- if its been said before why does or does it not (?) matter if it’s true?) -- anyway to the real (real? Intended? actual?? what should I say here that i do S(dont) not?) message tucked and buried in this mess (im a mess and i know it – what the wall said) -- i am lost and there isnt a way out and im sorry and no matter how i try i cant and what has so been eloquently described to me as a quote downward spiral endquote (“”) has or has recently caught up to me (the ground at the bottomless pit more like) and i have finally taken the time out of my already very busy day as you know to finally notice and yes what many would call quote giving up endquote (“”) or quote submitting to a self-subscribed fate endquote (“”)  and acknowledge that yes my time here is up and i cannot stay for much longer if any time at all and to punctuate or maybe exclamate(sp?) my point not all who wander are lost but I sure am and what started as a confident march ends in a whimpering limp through a deep dark that i cannot see thru

i wont say goodbye but im obligated to say thanks anyway

Josh’s Word of The Day: -- for you especially:

bit·ter·sweet

ˈbidərˌswēt/, adjective

1. (of food, drink, or flavor) sweet with a bitter aftertaste.

·         arousing pleasure tinged with sadness or pain.

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]  

Subject: daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?) (01-01-2000)

You’ve very prudently (if I can say that about such an early judgement call) asked me to, in your words, “voice in plain language”, as a more-or-less new-year’s resolution, what’s “keeping me down”; it’s not a short listed, and I feel compelled to (at the very least) forewarn you that I’m not a necessarily happy person (but you’re here to help that, so it’s fine(?), I guess).

I don’t like fluorescent light or, even, the word itself -- it reminds me of a pale sick-green tinge and pallor in my skin exclusively; sitting in an office chair, stare-spinning into the chalky, plaster-and-plastine(sp?) ceiling with those admittedly gross bright-yellow-almost-grey god forsaken fluorescent lights that make me and my weirdly-high cheekbones and thin ash-skin look more gaunt and corpselike than they and I already do not withstanding or considering what little, balding black hair I have does nothing to alleviate an admittedly freighting and death-like air that I have

They’re on the bus, the trains, my office and my house -- they’re cheap, not really very technical appliances that need to be oft replaced or serviced but my god do they give me the worst headaches and work more than/as nothing other than a reminder that I’m the primary auxiliary character in some avant-garde art film that pans and zooms and fisheyes a little too close to the face of some glum, doleful, sagging and sad average-looking middle-aged man or woman with shadows cast long over their point, sharp eyebrows and acne-ridden, bony jaws that accentuates this awful feeling of discomfort and hunger and rot that I can’t help but feel that that isn’t the general impression they were going for in the first place

I guess I just don’t like feeling nauseous or uncomfortable (I sincerely doubt many people do at all -- maybe some special color or flavor of masochistic deviant -- but I digress) -- for some reason, physiological or psychological, I think there’s something poking and sticking out of my stomach and my intestines that’s hot and solid yet liquidly-fine like molten iron or steel that seeps in and out of my ulcers (That I know I have for a medically proven fact); I can’t say if its bile or blood but I do know that if I don’t eat for a period of some days (which I usually don’t – food makes me want to violently vomit/throw up and the  thought of anything mildly warm or cold in me, my mouth, or otherwise is enough to reduce me to a manic mess (if im not already one)) it (the bloodbilemetal feeling, that is) gets almost intolerably worse and I honestly only eat or drink anything at this stage to keep me from passing out from the pain and mental malaise of knowing that something is there that I can’t personally account for or take responsibility as to or of; I’ve quite literally almost taken a sharp, pointed needle or small, swiss-army like knife and punctured the little pouch of belly fat that sits over my atrophied once-athletic abdomen to bleed myself of this “bad blood” and restore my “balance of humors” like a  sick and (by modern standards) barbaric doctor from some long- forgotten, dark century where it honestly wouldn’t be the worst thing to have some diseased, plague-ridden piece of dirty metal jammed into you if it meant that you’d at least die in a few months and not physically feel your body suffer through mortal agony for or years or weeks on end knowing that you’d essentially be subject to the same net-effect of nonexistence either way

Im sorry and thanks for your time, I’ll write to you soon

Many more to come, (and yours truly),

Josh

Josh’s Word of the Day:

pipe dream, noun

1.       an unattainable or fanciful hope or scheme.

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]  

Subject: Re:Re:Re(…) daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?)

07-15-2002

Im sorry im sorry im soryr im soryy?

I needed badly to get that out of my system really – this past year and the year before and the year before has been one very large and scary exponentially-progressively worse and worse train wreck that I can’t stop and I don’t think that I can anymore

I dream only of and in words at this stage – anything that is concretely visual or outside of hearing/” experiencing” language is/are very vague and very brief images of what I think I remember my very very late mother looking somewhat maybe like – atmosphere is tense and I feel a very pungent and precise feeling of regret each time I wake up

I’ve noticed that lately my thoughts have become markedly more dark and have assumed what could-be(?) described as self-harming in nature; I’ll blink, pause (for what feels far too long for a normal – is there a scientific standard for a normal, decidedly subconscious bodily function?) and think about jamming a nail under my big toenail and kicking a door or wall very hard or peeling my eyelids off with tweezers or drilling big, metal screws into my shins

i don’t know if it’s because i burn myself with wax or compulsively pick at my skin but I feel a very distinct urge to poke and prod and see how far and much pain I can take all in one go just to make sure that I still feel something other than cold and nothing or a little bit of both at the same time

Sometimes when im on the bus or train I feel like jumping out of a window or running headlong into an oncoming train/bus/both –I wonder honestly what dying might feel like and im afraid that if and when I find out it’ll be more of the same and I’ll have gone through all that pain and effort for nothing and die full of regret and realize ive done and been too little too late and die during my already-underway death from disappointment and a broken heart – i don’t know if very many likeable or normal people think of jumping from windows (which, I feel compelled to and should add my new office’s 6th story has a single thinly-paned sliding-glass-door-esque window situated right over and above the freeway and I can say that from the time ive spent after-hours wandering floor to floor desk to desk wall to wall back-and-back again it’s the only actually functional window I’ve found in the entire 200-foot-something building; its weirdly convenient and more so weirdly alluring)

i look like ive lost more weight and that’s not a bad thing I don’t think – I can almost just see all of my ribs and the grainy sand-like grit and texture of my bones through my beautifully paper skin and each day I feel like im getting closer and closer to what god is and what god has wanted me to be all along; im a little self-conscious about how big and disproportionate my head looks on my spiny, spindly pencil-thin neck and how frail my knocky elbows and knees are but i cant eat even if I try so really why even make the effort if you know that you’re just going to make it more painful in the long run (why do anything if you know none of it matters deep down?)

anyways thanks again and for everything so far – I’ll write you soon I really hope

josh

Josh’s Word of the Day:

ex·fo·li·ate

eksˈfōlēāt/, verb

1.                   (of a material) come apart or be shed from a surface in scales or layers.

"the bark exfoliates in papery flakes"

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

Subject: FWD: Concerning Josh Haag -- Incident

09-09-2001

Management,

          As the Chief of California Operations I believe this to be a concerning note for one Joshua Haag, a System Admin of ours. Read full details from our HR department below, but it is in fact my decision to demote him. Our company health insurance would not cover mental health service, but we would strongly recommend it to him if he stays apart of the MC family.

Any concerns, please leave a direct reply.

Lucas Shaw

Chief of California Operations at MiddleCorp™, 12380 E. Dorchester St. Silicon Valley CA, 94087

----------forwarded message----------

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

Subject: Concerning Josh Haag Incident

09-02-2001

Mr Shaw,

          In the company it is our policy to notify management of any disturbing notes from HR. Yesterday the Human Resources Department ran into a rather upsetting matter. System Administrator Joshua Haag was found hanging by his neck on a rafter in the second story bathroom by saleswoman Martha Stein. ([email protected]) Various coworkers of Josh ran in and thankfully saved him. We are not sure as to why he would resort to such drastic measures, especially on company property. This email is simply meant to inform you, as it is management’s decision as for Josh’s future with the company. Personally I do not recommend we keep him on our Administration. Anyone aware of the situation is very uncomfortable, especially those working directly under Mr. Haag.

If you require any more information, please let me know.

Pam Lancaster, MiddleCorp™ Human Resources Department, 12380 E. Dorchester St. Silicon Valley CA, 94087

From: [email protected] (you) To:[email protected] CC: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Re(…) daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?)

09-03-2001

Im not even going to look him in his (eye??) eyes – hes a disgustingly handsome awfully beautiful awful person and what -- honestly is the comparison and competition between a ratty once-been systems administrator who cant help but feel absolutely threated by “a higher existence”

Its absolutely the last straw – they’re obviously trying to phase me and only me out of their godforsaken system and I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT

Im sorry if I’ve (or, my messages, in reality) are coming off a bit more frantic and disjointed than they usually do – ive been experimenting with a hypno-sedative cocktail-concoction and I have noticed that its more effective at keeping me awake for days on end than it actually is at getting me to sleep (and stay there/like that) in the first place – the stress of potentially, no, not even, not losing my job, no, voluntarily as a screw-you kind of message and metaphorically speaking finger-giving finale leaving this awful awful awful no-good we-only-let-the-pretty-ones-to-be-in-the-cubicles is just too much not EVEN considering that there is a very messy personal element involved now that i NEED with a very LARGE and BIG emphasis on NEED to tell you about

One of the older, huskier, more dead-and-defeated looking edge-of-middle-age blondes of the office (her name is probably some shade of Cheryl or Sherry) – the kind that always makes me wonder that in 10 or 20 or never if I’ll get married or settle down like all these thick-jawed, broad-faced, ugly-but-not men of the universally consistent late 20s/30s or will I die alone burning and melting the circuits of a server like the man-rat that I am – the bathrooms on the 2nd floor aren’t marked, and since today has really been bad enough before the incident I resolved/more like decided to more-or-less hang myself with my already tried and true very strong leather belt that I wear for one reason only – really awful terrible days like today especially

So there I am, the boy genius extraordinaire, hanging from the unfurnished ceiling, tied and strung on and under a steel rafter, in a very very (what you would believe) compromising position when the aforementioned Cheryl-Sherry walks proudly in like she owns the single, poorly cleaned stall (without knocking, I should mention, WHICH IS A CORPORATE POLICY), screams really too loudly, runs out red-faced with streaks (more like streams) of thickly applied makeup and mascara running down and over her pouch-y cheeks and once-pretty knobby double-ish chin and before I know whats happening (I was more concerned with my pants being down near my ankles than anything) im being dragged across this dirty bathroom floor to “safety away from myself” and being crocodile-cooed by all these poorly sympathetic people and I HONESTLY can barely stand the thought of thinking of remembering something as legitimately horrifying as today has been or ever will be(?)

Talk to you soon,

From: [email protected]

(you) To: [email protected]  CC:

Subject: Emails (Sep. 4th, 2001)

Stop sending these to me.

Yours Truly,

Dr. Robert G. Anderson, Licensed (pending) Psychiatric ProfessionalTM at and by the Internet's BestTM  Online Resource for Emotional Counseling - opensourcepsych.org

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: open when alone

09-05-2001

That ratty nerd in the back? I didn’t know he was an admin... LOL not like it matters anymore :P And yeah I’ll see you there, 6pm ;)

Peter Alcazar

Salesman at MiddleCorp™

12380 E. Dorchester St. Silicon Valley CA, 94087

----------original message----------

From: [email protected] (you) To: [email protected]

Subject: open when alone

Did you hear about that guy trying to hang himself in the bathroom? Haha looks like he finally figured out that nobody likes him LOL. Anyways, you still on for dinner tonight?

Sigourney Yagey, Saleswoman at MiddleCorp™, 12380 E. Dorchester St. Silicon Valley CA, 94087

From: [email protected] ( (you) To: [email protected] (CC:  [email protected]  

Subject: Re:Re:Re:(…) daily journal and/or note-to-self anthology (sp?) (11-18-2001)

I started dreaming again, on very sudden and short notice, and I can’t say im a fan – there’s nothing there for me at all

Tonight’s episode started just above my chest cavity; cue opening credits and a brief roll of the cast and I can feel the bony knot just above-and-to-the-right of my sternum brush and squeeze against something cold and hard and the smooth ridge and cleft of my leftmost ribs catches on a sharp angle and the pain is something what you’d think literally “bone-crushing” would feel like; its dark, and each shufflestep I take im further and further from where I should be but do not want to and the closer and the louder my everything threatens to break I smell toothpaste and mold in an old air conditioning system and plastic from cheap toys and feel silky warm smokeair move through and over my fingers and cold cold toes and there it is – me and my mom, my mom and I – she’s crying into her arms and hunched back and so is her wife at the counter of the clinic and im too interested in the green-blue-turquoise wall behind them that bleeds numbers to ask or wonder for too long why

I feel like im sometimes-usually drowning in my emotions but thats like drinking too much water when you’re stuck in a desert somewhere in an unbelievably god awful awful place

I should have loved my brother more -- I should have done a lot of things better than I have or have done -- I should have realized that I am short lived but my problems are more so  -- Im done for tonight, I know you’re only contractually and not legally or financially obligated to reply to anything I send you but please please please please just tell me even if you’re lying that things might just be ok

Josh’s Word of the Day:

com·punc·tion, noun

1.       a feeling of guilt or moral scruple that follows the doing of something bad.