#two whole weeks n also idk if anyone pulled the bins back in from the road evn tho garbage is on thurs so i cant take them out nyway til i c | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: I sincerely apologize for the pain caused with last chapter...so naturally, i had to go and write more pain muahaha. i also apologize for the wait on this one, for some reason i had a weirdly hard time getting this one out of my head, ahhh i think I’m just lil sad about it all ending :( but! we’re almost out of the woods cuties!! thank you so very much reading as always!! <3 this is the second to last chapter and idk how to feel ahhhh

Part 7

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, roommate!minho, explicit language, some kissin’ and that good, good makin’ out, soft n’ intimate body touchinggg, mentions of getting drunk in the past, mentions of a toxic familial relationship, gahhh lots of crying and emotions in this one but it’s bc we’re figuring things out :)

CW: dub-con-ish scene due to conflicting feelings but it gets stopped pretty quick

Word count: 7.6k

Chapters

Jisung shared his apartment with two equally messy boys. You had forgotten their names despite meeting them and seeing them around on more than one occasion. Lucky for you, they each had distinguishing features so you named them as such: tall one and younger one with white hair. Once upon a time the four of you had hung out and they weren’t unbearable, just a bit cookie-cutter as you had called it. Both of them were in the same music school as Jisung and didn’t have many other interests outside going to music shows and playing PC games while loudly shouting.

There was never food in that apartment but somehow there was always dirty dishes in the kitchen. Sure, it smelled a bit like dirty socks, but you never paid too much attention to that when you would clambering in the door with your lips locked with Jisung’s. It was strange walking in not doing so. Tall one and younger one with the white hair sat on the couch eating pizza with feet kicked up on their banged up coffee table. They didn’t say anything as they watched you walk in, but merely rolled their eyes and pretended that you weren’t there anymore.

“We can go to my room.” Jisung raked his hand through his greasy brown strands, then kicked aside approximately ten pairs of sneakers. He held onto your hand tightly--so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

You nearly slipped on that rug that lined the wooden floors of their hallway. It wasn’t the first time.

Just as the rest of the apartment was, Jisung’s room was strewn with all kinds of random articles such as dirty clothes, tangled up cords and old to-go containers. His bed was unmade; it was those navy sheets that likely hadn’t been washed in several weeks. You could never really pinpoint what they smelled like, just that they smelled like him. You had spent nights there too, but they were nothing memorable. No groggy mornings with coffee or sunlight streaked onto his features for you to admire in the golden sheen. It had been running late to class and the dozens of times that you had left jewelry and hair-ties.

“Wanna sit down?” Jisung patted the spot next to him, and you did so.

The two of you sat in silence, the atmosphere became thick with the tangible sense of disaster that hung around the both of you. It was catastrophic.

His trembling hand came reaching for yours, and you let him take it. He sniffled, and it triggered your eyes to fill with the same hot tears.

For the first time, you wondered, what am I doing here?

“You want to lay down?” His puffy eyes asked you.

You nodded, crinkling those bedsheets that were probably full of dust.

In all your months of knowing him, you had never, never cuddled. This was the first time and you really weren’t even tied together anymore.

His nose had turned pink, and he rubbed a bit of snot away with his wrist.

“Thank you for coming here.” Jisung whispered. “But--what are you doing here? I thought that you were with Changbin now?”

I am. You thought briefly. Am I?

“I just...so confused right now. I don’t know...there’s just...I don’t know...”

A tear fell down Jisung’s cheek, and you couldn’t fathom why he would be the one crying when it should’ve been you. You wiped it away. You had never thought of it before, but seeing him cry brought a sting to your chest.

Jisung leaned forward, and the bed creaked lightly, then he kissed you. It wasn’t really a passionate one, but one that he had used to say more than he could himself. His lips tasted salty running over yours, and your brain froze deciding what to do. Jisung never changed: as broken as it felt, he was still starving, needy, and rough. You tried to find meaning in it, or if it made you feel.

It didn’t.

Jisung held your face in his hands, and with a hesitant sigh, he said, “I really, really wanted to do that for so long.”

As desperate he had seemed for you, you couldn’t find the same desire if you had tried. Maybe, you had to find it?

“Kiss me again.” You hushed.

He licked his lips with a gaze softening. “Okay.”

This time he swung his legs around your hips and straddled you with the kind of pressure that you had craved, once upon a time. He bent down to press even more of his heated desire on your skin. He was a good kisser, and you remembered once again how you really had wanted to have him kiss you like this, once upon a time. His tongue slicked against your bottom lip and you gave him the permission, testing it out just to see.

You had thought back then that he was unreal.

Jisung rutted his hips down into your waist, and you had already felt how he had hardened in his sweatpants.

You knew how it would go...or how it used to.

“Baby, I want you so bad. You have no idea. I-I don’t think that I want anyone else besides you--” He broke to meet your eyes. Your world blurred, and sobbed out from under his gaze.

What am I doing here?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Worry flooded over his face.

“I-I can’t do this, I shouldn’t do this, fuck--what the fuck am I doing?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please just...get off of me. Please...”

He did so, but still looked just as shocked. “Did I do something wrong?”

He too started to tear up again. At last you could finally name what it was that tugged at his soft brown eyes. Fear.

“Can you please tell me what I did wrong? Y/n, I don’t understand, you’re confusing me so much--”

“--This isn’t right Jisung!” You nearly yelled with broken sobs. “We aren’t right.”

Jisung’s face fell, crestfallen. “N-no--”

“--We destroy each other!! Don’t you see?? Never have we ever been happy together, we’re just...coping! That isn’t love!!”

“Then why the hell am I in love with you??” Jisung spat out the words, and then it was immediately evident that he had regretted saying them.

A deadly silence fell over the room, and all that was left was the both of your weak sniffles.

“What did you just say?”

Jisung grabbed one the pillows then threw it down on the floor with a poof.

“Fuck!!!” He literally shouted. His face had turned red, and snot dripped down to his lip. “I have fucking feelings for you okay?? Is that enough for you?”

“Ji...yo-you can’t--”

“I can’t what?! Is it a fucking crime? Listen, I’m scared out of my fucking mind saying this to you, alright? I don’t know why the hell I am but--”

“--We-we can’t, Jisung..”

“Can’t what?!” He threw his hands up into he air in his exasperation. “Stop fucking confusing me!!”

“We destroy eachother.”

Jisung grabbed another pillow to pummel to the ground, but then stopped himself, digging his fingers into the fabric until his nailbeds turned white.

“We hurt eachother too much. An-and...I don’t think that it’s really our fault either. It’s just...who we are. I can’t give you what you want and you can’t give me what I want.”

Jisung sobbed out horribly, then buried his face in his hands.

“But I fell in love with you...?” His voice was terribly cracked.

You watched as tears dropped into your lap and made little wet dots on your jeans. “I fell in love with Changbin...”

His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, but still glistened, like the way that oil would slick in rainbows with the snow.

“Then what are you doing here?” He asked one more time, but now he had appeared to be utterly broken.

You rose from the bed, looking down at him and drying your face. “I...think I know why.”

“And?”

Outside of Jisung’s window, the view was similar to your own: city lights in an array of colors; each of them like stars on the ocean. On the wall adjacent from his bed, you noticed there was a crack. You had never realized that it was there before.

“I’m admitting something that I should’ve a long time ago.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

You had likely forgotten to close a window in your apartment somewhere because the winter cold had pervaded the whole space. It took you about ten minutes to realize that it was in your bathroom from when you had taken a shower earlier to air let out the steam.

The second thing that you noticed was the crumpled up blanket resting on the couch from before. For some odd reason, you felt the strong desire to wrap it all around yourself like you could capture some essence of him in it. Sure enough it did smell like that scent of his that you had grown so used to. You let the blanket trail behind you has you made your way to your room to pull on one of his shirts over your head.

“Who told you that you could look so cute in that?” He had said one time.

[23:16] Bin

me: can i call you?

[00:18] Bin

me: if you’re asleep, can I call you in the morning? if that’s okay? i said things that I didn’t mean...i just didn’t know it then.

i’m so sorry

how i treated you...you didn’t deserve that

i understand if you’re mad at me. you have every right.

i’m sorry that i couldn’t see that things that you were trying to show me.

i see them now.

You had thought that now the snow had finally faded into the edge of the winter that near it’s conclusion. Early March, and you wanting nothing more for spring buds to peep from the snow capped floral beds on street corners and for the white hugging the trees to dissapear forever. The winter had felt as if it had lasted for a year--even though this year you had seen less snow than other years.

There had been a time when you firmly believed that once the snow melted, it would get better. Snow was a bitter memory, and it was curse that had to happen each and every year.

The night that you had met Changbin, it had been cold. Cold like the winter that you had tried to hide from. You hadn’t thought of it until now, but he was much like the way that snowflakes melted on your skin. It reminded you of the icy coldness of the world for fleeting moments, then faded just as quickly as it arrived. The little wet mark of him warmed on your skin.

Outside of the miniscule window to your living room, snowflakes got caught up in the edges of the frame, and sprinkled the surface of the glass in their variety of gorgeous fractals and unique shapes. A full moon was painted into the sky with a brightness that could’ve paralleled the sun on this clear night swimming in deep azure.

You hugged the fabric of one of his shirts even closer to your frame, pretending for a moment that it was him that had been hugging you and not the cotton.

“I’m so sorry.” You cried out weakly to the empty room.

Your phone screen flashed with the time: [00:42]. You wondered, maybe he really had given up like he said that he would’ve. Maybe he walked home in the shivering cold, hands shoved into his pockets and decided that he was done waiting; that you weren’t worth his time and the effort. Maybe he walked in his front door, closed it behind himself, and said the words, This is it. No more. Maybe he walked into his room and cried. Maybe he didn’t. You couldn’t decide if you had wanted him to cry for you or not. Both hurt.

[01:13.]

Your eyes dragged with sleep, but your mind moved faster than the pace of your dry eyelids. Dust had settled on the white sheet that you had drawn over the painting in your room. On the underside of the sheet, globs of acrylic had dried and turned into multicolored flecks: a bit like the sheet was a piece of art and and of itself. It was nearly finished, and only had about one more quadrant left that was void of color.

Your wooden pallet had been resting by the window, so it was cold to the touch--as were the little aluminum bottles of paint resting beside it. You used your shirtsleeve to dry away one tear that had battled its way to your lid, then sat back on your desk chair, facing the easel head on.

Black first. Then deep blue, then bright yellow, burnt orange and gold.

Hairs brushed over the canvas, and swept in wide strokes back and forth. With an empty mind, you smeared over the dark colors that faded to the edge of the canvas into the glowing light of the edge of the alleyway painted here. His figure was prominent, even though you couldn’t see his face. He wore black clothes that were simple. Frankly, you didn’t really remember what he had worn that night, but it didn’t matter much. Neon blue and red restaurant signs met on as reflection on his dark black hair.

It was as if your chest and hand had been weighted down even further, but you fought through it to raise them. While you let the tears fall at first, they dried after long and made the skin of your cheeks tout. The room was silent, and so it was outside with the drifting snow. Soon, the painting would be finished, and you could sleep. You couldn’t sleep until then.

if your art didn’t mean anything, what even was it?

The pink lights lining your room provided the only light to the room, however not much else was needed than that.

You bit your lip, now mixing yellow with red.

If you couldn’t tell him. You hoped with every fiber that this would.

[04:51] Bin

me: if you’re up to it, can we talk? or, i can call you?

goodnight

wait its morning

good morning then.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Chan was good at keeping his promises. There was not one time in your whole time in knowing him that he hadn’t kept a promise, no matter how absurd it might’ve been. He had promised you to buy you ice cream on the first day of snow, and he had promised to share his lyrics with you, no matter how much they would make him cringe. He promised that if you ever needed someone to watch your guilty pleasure reality shows with, he would be over as soon as he could. Next to Felix, you had figured a long time ago that if there were ever people in your life that you were destined to meet, he was one of them. Admittedly, there had been a time when you had harbored a crush on him, but as usual, you had been best at getting in your own way before anything could’ve happened. This, and you loved him as a friend too much.

Too many jell-o shots were both of your enemies. Halfway into the driest seven minutes in heaven of your life, and halfway into your confession to him, he had passed out right in your arms. You were lucky that he had forgotten the event entirely. Or, he was keeping his promise that you had hurriedly made asking him to forget that it ever happened when you and Felix carted him out of there.

While he was good at keeping promises, you more so wished that he had forgotten that one.

Chan had promised that he would personally use his ID card to get into the soundproof booth in the music department to scream.

You hadn’t ever taken him up on the offer until today.

It was nearly midnight and unopened text messages still sat in in empty bubbles on your phone screen.

Even though you had consistently texted “good morning” and “goodnight” for three days straight, the action of sending them didn’t make you feel any better.

Chan didn’t ask any questions, but merely let you through the halls which echoed from your squeaking wet shoes. The green light of emergency signs appeared to be the only guiding lights, but Chan knew the way well.

“Careful. The floor is slippery. They mop after everyone leaves.” He hushed in the silent hallway.

Your fingers and lips cracked from the cold and felt tingly warming up in the dry heat of the building. The two of you turned two more corners, then Chan carefully wrapped his veiny and red hand over the handle to the door marked with “Studio Five.” He tapped his key to the reader, and it beeped with flashing green and orange lights.

“Here. This is the entrance to the booth. I’ll enter from that door to get to the other side of the glass. You don’t...want me to go in with you?”

“Want me to wreck your ears?” You have him a feeble smile.

He mustered his own kind of strength that he had been keeping up just for you. “Hm. You’re right.” Your friend clicked on the light, and it burned your eyes at first compared to the black hall. “Take...all the time that you need, I’ll just be over there. If you wanna...talk about things, I’m here for that too.”

The booth was an ugly shade of lime green, and you wondered how anyone could ever be creative in a place such as this. On the other side of the tinted glass, you watched as Chan flicked on the light, then made his way to push the button to the little intercom system. His voice buzzed with a tinny sound.

“No one can hear you, so....go nuts.”

The walls were too padded with black foam insulation, and for a moment you considered how strange it was, that you, had entered that place to scream--not make music like the room had been used to. Even though the walls were lime green. It still brought a sense of sadness to your chest.

The room spun lightly behind your eyes, and you panted out frantically.

What the hell am I doing in here?

[23:29] bin

me: I hope that you sleep well tonight. i’m thinking of you.

“Is everything okay in here?” Chan’s voice said over the speakers.

“W-what am I doing here?” You repeated the question, feeling panic rise up your throat.

“Getting your anger out?” He tiled his head. “I-I don’t know why else because you didn’t tell me. You angry at someone? Something?”

“N-no? --I mean, yes...I-I don’t know.” You said with uncertainty. Suddenly the foam walls of the room started to close in. “I need to get out of here.”

“Woah! Woah! Y/n! What’s--” Chan chased you out of the room, back into the empty hallway with the squeaky floors and the green light.

“Hey, let’s just...take a breather here for a sec.” Your friend reached out to smooth down your arms. “If you wanna talk about it, I can help maybe?”

You tore from his gasp, then slumped against the wall to slide all the way down and sit on the cold linoleum floors with the heaters pumping steadily above your head.

“He’s not...messaging me back, and I think that I royally fucked up this time. I think that I finally did it, I finally pushed him too far.”

“Who? Changbin?” Chan crouched down to sit next to you. “Is that what this is about?”

Shallow breaths filled up your lungs, “I think...I think I just lost everything that I could’ve had with him, and it’s all my fault...I’m fucking angry at myself, Chan.”

“A-are you sure?”

“I basically told him that I didn’t know if I wanted to be his girlfriend...after everything that’s happened, everything that he’s done and how patient he’s been...but...there was Jisung an-and...I realize that I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it, I want to be with him so fucking badly and I was just too caught up to see it and--”

“--Stop!” Chan barked. “Stop and give yourself a second to breathe! Did you realize that you’re not doing that?

You hadn’t. Nor had your noticed your shaking hands. However, Chan had seen them, and held them with his.

“You said that you do want to be with him but you told him that you didn’t?”

Somewhere in the hallway, one of the emergency floodlights blinked with a harsh white light.

“Yes.”

“And did you tell him that you didn’t mean it?”

“I have but he hasn’t gotten back to me? He would always get back to me, no matter what it was--it makes me worry--”

Chan cupped your hands then brought them to his chest where he held them earnestly. “Some things are out of our control, Y/n. And, I hate to say it but, now, I think you need to come to accept the possibility that maybe...” His gaze softened. “I’m sorry. I wish I could say something more or better but I’m not him and I can’t know...”

You scoffed, “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

Chan tsked, as he often would do with a little sarcastic drag to his voice. “A long time ago I promised you that I would always be honest with you, and you know that I hold to my word.

He rubbed his thumb into your hands.

“Do you want me to say then to go running after him? Throw it all to the wind? Even if it doesn’t end up going your way?”

“...Maybe.” You swiped a tear from the corner of your right eye. “Would it be worth it?”

“Maybe.” He sighed.

A silence filled the hall and the space between you two, and Chan kept holding your hand. It was a simple touch, but you hadn’t realized that you had craved something as such.

“Y/n? Can I say something?”

“Yeah?”

“Even if it isn’t him that it ends up being, I think that you should know that you still deserve happiness in someone. Even after all that you’ve been through, you still do. It sounds like to me...you’re finally realizing it.” He smiled with a bit of a wrinkle to his lips. “I’m proud of you.”

You squeezed his hand. “Thank you. Its...been a long time coming.” Your head hit the wall behind you with a slight thud. “I’ve been painting recently. And...it means something to me. I feel like I found something, like I’m seeing something for the first time in a long time and it makes me really... full. Like he does.”

Your friend let go, then went to play with his shoe-laces.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was the final straw?”

“He just...loved me different. Better than I ever could myself, and I think that it made me realize that in order for me to love him too, I had to make peace with myself, and just...” You breathed out a laugh, “...Chill the fuck out. But--I know that I can’t let go of it forever. What happened, made me. I can’t give that up, but that doesn’t mean that I should wallow in it forever. I don’t deserve that.”

Chan leaned to give you a light slap to the arm. “Look at you.”

“I...saw Jisung too.”

While anger laced his voice, Chan remained level headed. “...And?”

“Me and him just dug ourselves into a deeper hole. Even he...he could do better. He needs a “Changbin” too. You know? I can’t be that for him. I never was even close. I feel sorry. I should probably see him one last time...”

The image of Jisung’s disparaged face burned in your memory in the midst of it all. Somehow you had forgotten that he had gotten feelings tangled it up in it all, and you had just left. Through all that you had been through with him, you couldn’t let it just go so easily.

“There’s a lot of things that I need to make right.” You sighed out with finality. Next to you, your best friend did the same.

“Whatever happens, Felix and I will be here for you. Like always.”

“Mm. Thank you, Chan. Really. Thank you so much. The two of you are the best friends that I could ask for. I don’t know how you put up with me...”

“Ahhh, don’t mention it.” He shoved his shoulder into yours playfully. “Ya know, if this goes south, we could just date.”

“What?!” Your head whipped over to him so hard it hurt.

“As I recall, about a year ago all it took were some jell-o shots...”

You smacked him upside the head, causing him to burst out laughing in that empty hall.

“I told you to forget about that!!”

“I’m just joking!! Jeez! Can you take a joke!?”

You laughed with him, your goofy and kindhearted best friend. You realized it hadn’t happened in quite some time.

“Yeah Changbin is alright, but me and Felix are forever. Got it?” He teased, and you slumped your head on his shoulder.

“I know.”

In your pants pocket, your phone vibrated and flashed with a white light.

[01:36] L. Minho

minho: i fucking hate that i’m in this position

but

bin’s in a bad way and i’m fairly certain that he hasn’t told you about it all

idiot.

anyway, his parents are being shitty assholes and i think that he really needs you right now, even if he isn’t saying anything about it. actually i know that he does.

i also wanna ask you to kindly resolve whatever shit that you have going on before you walk in our door. out of kindness for both yourself and him.

sorry not sorry. i really do love the both of you and it hurts me to see it be like this.

i suggest that you come over as soon as you can.

Your heart beat its way into your throat with a million emotions, but out of them all, fear for Changbin ached the most.

“Chan, I have to go.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

It was likely Minho who had buzzed you in.

Luckily, the night had somehow gotten warmer--at least warm enough to where you couldn’t see your breath in front of your face any more. Unfortunately though, you had still worn the shoes that Changbin would scold you for wearing on snow-packed nights. Luckily, the snow had started melted too.

The door clicked when it unlocked, and you slid inside the glass entrance that was smudged with fingerprints and the wet from dog’s noses pressing on the surface.

For a reason unknown to you, you decided to take the stairs--even though he had lived on the seventh floor. Partially you had decided that you had done so because it meant that you had more time with your thoughts; more time to decide if you really had resolved all the shit that you needed to leave on the outside of his doorstop.

You thought back to the painting sitting finished in your room. It waited in all of it’s beauty for the sun to shine on it and the rest of the world to see it. For him to see it. It was for him that you had painted it in the first place. Every ounce of pain and confusion was lathered across the canvas, it was bare for anyone to see after you had kept it concealed for so long.

He would see it.

You took each step slow and carefully, and listened to the way that the sound bounced off of the walls and how the carpet matted on each stoop.

Chan had said, “Even after all that you’ve been through, you still do.”

Minho opened the door after three clicks wearing a bathrobe and slippers. For being so distressed like his message had said, he looked perfectly cozy. You remembered that Minho really was one to keep it all together when shit would get intense. Somehow he had the ability to write whole papers over the course of one day and had passed tests after studying for only four hours. You wished you could manage as well as he could.

“Fuck. It’s late.” He rubbed his eyes. “Come in. Take off your shoes please.”

You did so, and rubbed your toes into their carpet. It was almost as if you were waiting further instructions, but you knew full well what you had to do.

Minho glared at you expectantly. “Well? Shits left outside?”

“Shits left outside.” You repeated with a nod.

“l’ll let him explain. It isn’t really my place. Just--listen to him okay? I think that’s what he needs right now.”

The apartment itself was a bit barren, the only things that were placed in the small space were the things that the inhabitants needed: a dining table, a leather couch, a TV set, a few beanbags and a kitchen kept clean by Minho. It was strange seeing a place so organized and...neat. It was as if this apartment was from an other side of the world compared to what you had grown used to previously. Changbin’s thick and dark black coat hung on one of the dining chairs, the same that he had worn the night that he had last seen you. You wondered if it had been sitting there these past few days.

“Go on.” Minho flapped his hands to usher you down the hallway to Changbin’s room. At the end of the hallway was the bathroom, and seeing it flooded your skin with the feeling of warm water and defrosting skin, lips on lips with heated desire; tracing fingertips that got caught with the translucent stream of water as they brushed down spines and hips. If you could’ve gone back to then and done it all over...you wondered if you would’ve.

“Knock first.” Minho mouthed.

You did, breath hitching when it opened slightly, and you called out his name. “Bin? Its me. Can I...can I come in?”

His hesitant voice called back to you, “Yes.”

He was a crumble on his bed, black socks twisted up with his dark bedsheets and his hoodie riding up his back to expose a sliver of skin where he laid facing away from the door. His beautiful dark hair was knotted.

“B-Bin? A-are you okay?” You advanced forward carefully, reaching out to touch his arm. You had never seen this confident and headstrong man reduced to something so small, it broke your heart into shards to see him as such. You didn’t know what to do with yourself: sit with him? Stand? Crawl in to bed next to him? Unspoken words filled the air, and he sniffed out loudly into it.

“Thank you for messaging me still.” Was what he had said first. “I saw them a little bit ago. I was...too scared to open them at first...your messages. I was...ashamed to...”

“--Bin,” You took two steps closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

He sniffed in with a clogged nose once more. “I’m sorry.”

Two more steps. “No, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t listen to you, and took all of your patience with me for granted. I really don’t deserve it. I tore you up, and that was awful of me. You somehow ended up being collateral damage to me figuring my shit out and I can’t say I’m sorry enough. I understand if you don’t want to keep this going that we--”

“--Can you get into bed with me?” He suddenly interjected. Changbin twisted his hand back as if he knew that yours was there in some superhuman way, and grabbed at it. “It’s...cold.”

Your heart paused, uncertain if you had heard him correctly.

“Please?” Changbin muttered. “Two bodies is warmer than one.”

Silently, you crossed the room and shimmied off your coat so it fell to the floor. It had been partially absentminded, but you had pulled on one of his shirts that day. It was light grey, and had nearly lost all semblance of his scent on it. You pulled the covers over both of you, peering just enough to see his puffed and red eyes and red wet nose. Seeing him like this, you had to fight every instinct to pull him into your arms, but rather keep a respectful distance.

From seeing the way that he dominated the stage to how he looked under the soft glow of your pink lights, to how he had looked as thin and as fragile as glass now, it had all finally made sense to you. As brash and forthcoming as he was, it wasn’t all of who he was in the slightest. If anything, it was who he had pretended to be.

Tears fell over his pink lips. “I didn’t tell you because...I was embarrassed. Fuck,” He laughed a little, “It’s so fucking pathetic. I’m so pathetic for getting so messed up over this all. I-I shouldn’t. That and...it’s not something that you should--”

“--Don’t you dare say that I shouldn’t worry about this Bin. How many times do you need me to say it?” You traced his dark hair over his ear. “What happened to being each other’s problems?”

He smiled with a weak grin, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Minho didn’t tell you?”

You shook your head. “He said that you should be the one to.”

Changbin sighed out, then pulled the comforter up to his nose, adjusting himself to meet your eyes with his that were strained with pink.

“They’re disowning me. For real this time. They asked me to do a legal name change and everything...as if...they’re cutting me out of the family line. Fuck, I mean, they basically are.”

His chest shook with an inhale, and a thick and burning mucus felt as if it had clung to your throat. It was anger and rage, the kind that was so foreign to you, it even started you to feel such a thing.

“Bin, I’m so sorry. They’re...they’re fucking less than human is what they are. Treating you their own son like this...like they think that they can reverse time so that you were never even born of them...” Under the sheets your knuckles clenched so hard it bit the skin of your palms. “I-I’m sorry too...that you were going through this by yourself--”

In one single motion he had spread out his arms to circle them around your upper body and pull it into hm.

There he was again. Rosemary and cedarwood.

You were in shock, but feeling the warmth from his body on yours made you shiver--it was the contact that you had craved so intensely now that you had it, it was so all encompassing that your brain scrambled feeling it.

“Thank you for coming.” He whispered to the top of your head.

Your hands snaked around his body, and you held him back.

In that very moment, you had decided that you would spend the rest of your life holding him back if he would let you. If there was someone out there listening to your thoughts, you prayed that they would let you hold him.

Changbin patted to top of your head with a trembling hand.

“What the fuck do I do?”

Your fingers tugged at the thick cotton of his hoodie.

“They said that either I meet with them to sign away my name, or I pack up, and go back with them as if nothing happened. They said that they were willing to “forgive” everything that I had “done” if I chose to come back home with them, so to school, and forget everything that I’ve ever written, performed...”

“They said that??”

The young man remained silent, but instead nuzzled further into you.

“They said that they could arrange for a meeting with their legal team to finalize it in as little as two days if I decide to do it. Those assholes expedited the whole process and called up their lawyers to make it happen as quick as possible...”

“Bin...” You cooed, and smoothed up and down his back. Being close to him like this you could nearly feel his own heart breaking in his chest against yours.

“Do I forget everything that I was to chase this...dream? Or do I go back, get their support, live a normal life...”

“--Stop.” You gently pushed his hand away to look up at him. “This, all of this is your life Changbin. It’s what you’ve worked hard for relentlessly and it’s what makes you happy, isn’t it? Yeah, it’s harder to do, but you’ve gotten so far, people love you! You’ve made a name for yourself, people want to hear your music--”

“--Yeah, my names gotten itself out there a little too well for my parent’s opinions.”

You wiped a tear cascading from one of his exhausted eyes. “They should be proud of you, not trying to suppress you.”

“They...don’t want me to be Changbin any more. Do you know how that feels? I’ve lived my whole life being me and now they just want to take away the very last thing that I have that they didn’t touch?” He stifled a sob.

“Hey! Just because you change it on paper, doesn’t mean we have to call you that!” You laughed out gently, “If you want to get a driver’s license or something it might be important...but, you’re always going to be Changbin to me, and Minho and everyone else who knows you. A name is just a word. You make up who you really are.”

Changbin laughed out, then returned his hand to pat at your head.

“Who told you to say that?”

You chuckled back at the way that he had turned your words back on you. “No one.”

“I’m just me, but...” Under the covers, your legs intertwined. “I think that if we compare a life of missed oppurtunties to a life where you leave a couple things behind, its worth leaving.”

Body heat swirled between the two of you, and it was as calming as a song. Changbin brought his hand down to caress the side of your cheek with as much gentleness one would with those fragile snowflakes.

Past his shoulder, your eye caught a small piece of paper that had been pasted to the wall above his desk: right in a space where he could see it if he had sat at his desktop. It was crinkled and held several creases and the lead that had been used to draw on it had smudged as if it had rubbed up against itself.

It was a picture of a bench, some Christmas lights, and the city skyline behind it.

Tears flooded your eyes, and then fell freely onto his his fingers where he held your face. They caught in the corners of your mouth, and heated up your eyes.

“Woah, hey, what is it?” Changbin rubbed away the wet and pulled you even closer to him.

“Y-you kept it?” Your voice wavered.

“Kept what?”

You pointed a shaking finger to your drawing posted on the wall, and his eyes widened at first like he was embarrassed, then he slowly faded into something much softer.

He nearly whispered the words, “Of course.”

“W-why?”

“It reminded me of you and that night. I think that I realized something then.”

“What’s that?” He wiped your tears once more, stretching the skin of your face as he did so.

“I realized that, well...I’m in over my head here.” He laughed out lightly. “Do you need me to say it again? I love you a fuck ton, alright? Getting over things, and healing from things...it’s not easy. You...don’t have to apologize for the mess of things and what it did to you. It’s not your fault.”

You threw your head into the crook of his neck to sob openly. But I hurt you. I made you wait...I-I don’t wait you to wait any longer.”

“And I made you wait too. My stupid...my parents fucked me up too, and I couldn’t get over the fact that this fucking mess that they made of me put a wedge between me and you. I didn’t feel like you deserved...I’m a mess too. A fucking nervous, cocky bastard at times and I don’t know how to talk about it. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“What?? No--”

“You wanna call it even then?” He grinned out, and it was his sly little smile that you had found yourself thinking of after you had seen it for the first time those months ago.

“I--”

“Damn. It does feel kinda good to talk about things.” He joked.

You cried out his name even harsher, then melted into his whole body. He was boundless in the way that he had understood you, and how he had looked you without condition or pause.

You don’t have to be scared any more.

With your face muffled in the fabric of his shirt, you let the words fly of your tongue with reckless abandon, and it felt as if you had finally been rid of the crushing shroud fogging your mind, and chaining your heart.

“I-I want you to be...my Changbin. An-and I want to be--”

“--Wait!” Changbin pulled you back by the shoulders with a new and wild smile on his face that only grew wider by the second. A type of excited panic flamed in his chocolate brown eyes. “Willyoubemygirlfriend???” He said at light speed.

You were confused as to why he had said it as such, but you nodded, finally feeling the sense of respite that you had searched so hard for. “Y-yes?”

Changbin startled you with his sudden crack of laughter, then squeezed you so tight that it became hard to breathe. Once he let go looser, he bowed in deep to press dozens of kisses on your mouth and around it. Most of them missed the mark, but that didn’t matter to him. He only stopped for a couple moments to mutter the words, “I wanted to say it first.” You would’ve laughed had he not been attacking you incessantly with more and more pecks that you struggled to keep up with.

“I-I’m sorry again that I made you wait--”

Changbin rolled his weight over to lean carefully over your body tangled up in the sheets, then kissed away at your lips with “don’t say that’s “ quietly. “Thank you for trusting me.” He said quickly, then returned, pouring out oceans of admiration onto your lips until they felt a little raw. You kissed him back too, and you kissed him like you wanted to spend your whole life holding him back. His blissful little “oh’s” tickled at your lips, and you giggled at the way that they vibrated.

Once you had properly kissed nearly all of the air out of each other’s lungs, you laid back, gasping, and each still a bit bewildered.

“Thank you for trusting me too.” You turned your head to look at him where he lay with quickened breaths quaking his chest.

“When I go through with this name thing, can you...be there?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” He said, barely loud enough for you to hear. His strong hands fell down his shirt which you wore; down to the small of your back where he snuck up the fabric. His fingers tickled at your tiny hairs there.

“I have one more loose end to tie myself. One more place that I need to make peace.”

Changbin nodded. “Mm. We’ll get through it together.”

To your surprise, Changbin then took to pulling his sweater over his head, revealing his bare chest, then pulled off his pants from his legs a bit awkwardly under the covers.

“W-what are you doing?”

He giggled, then pulled at the hem of your shirt for you to do the same.

“Trust me.” He whispered.

You held his eyes as you did, and your bare skin too met the crinkling edges of the sheets which were a bit colder than you had expected. Changbin watched as you did so with a prideful little grin.

“I-I’m confused.” You hugged your arms over your cold torso.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He merely muttered, uncrossing your arms for him to look at you fully, then pulled you by the under sides of your chin back to his lips. He pulled gently at your bottom lip with his teeth. “Clothes were getting in the way.” He hushed, then set to unhooking your bra behind your back.

“Getting in the way of what?”

“Me being as close to you as I possibly can.”

While he had said the phrase calmly, it still sent heat rising straight to your cheeks.

“I want to hold my love like this for as long as she’ll let me. Can I?”

Your two bodies met in the middle, flush, buzzing with a kind of giddy energy that only heightened the more curious that your hands got eating up each other’s presence.

“As long as you’ll let me do the same.”

You couldn’t quite tell, but it had almost felt as if Changbin had scribbled little invisible messages into the skin of your back.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He answered.

You took his wrist to kiss at the line of a scar that lived there. Naturally, Changbin blushed rosy from the action--then promptly pretended that he just hadn’t.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

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thepulta · 4 years

Text

A/N: Written because I have nothing to do with my life except stare at the turtle tank that now inhabits my desk, play Sunless Sea, and write fanfic. Probably a sub-canon piece too because idk about Fitzroy willing his shit to the rest of the crew; I just made that up on the spot. Maybe we can assume it wasn’t a whole lot.

If anyone is reading the Westlie-Series who isn’t on the Pyrrhus already, this is about three weeks? after they left Port Prosper together. There was an Incident of Self Sacrifice on behalf of the captain because @nicktosaurus likes murdering beloved NPCs in dramatic and horrible ways. We had the chance to save him while running away from the Glorious even though they started shooting up the whole island while Fitzroy was getting surgery, Selmer fucked up his roll and Capt’n died. Cue horrified drama onboard the ship as we picked up Selmer and got the fuck out of there without even our dead Captain’s body. We also had like three days of fuel left. Aaand scene:

-=-

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Marion slammed the door to the engine room. Selmer hurried after her. Lizzie had already vanished. Elijah stood next to the stove, possibly making tea, but his hands were shaking; he grabbed a cup, put it on the counter, grabbed the kettle, put it back down, picked up the cup and filled it with water; poured the water out and filled up the kettle. Owen had already left, vanished.

No.

Westlie stepped into the hallway, holding out a hand to steady herself against the wall as she made her way to the map room.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no.

She stumbled inside, locked the door, and slid down to the ground, her back to the rest of the Pyrrhus. Everything was numb. Westlie opened her mouth, out of air. Was this what fainting felt like? She had to breathe. Breath, Westlie, breathe.

I can’t. She dug her fingers in her hair. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel anything.

Fitzroy is dead.

Her soul screamed in anguish.

No. No. This wasn’t real. This was a bad dream, a nightmare. She’d stared too long out the window. Selmer had stared too long out the window; he had to be wrong.

But there still wasn’t Fitzroy on the ship - sleeping or up and about. There was no careful, courteous gaze. No knock on the map room when she put a book away too loudly. The last time he’d been up and about - Westlie laughed bitterly through her tears - it was past midnight and he’d knocked briefly on the door, letting himself in to find her knee-deep in charts. Westlie remembered smiling when she looked over her shoulder, seeing it was him. She’d caught herself after in surprise; she’d never done that to anyone. Maybe Morgan. But he was welcome because he simply looked over her notes and pulled out another book. And that was bitter. Stars, it was bitter. She had so much to learn. She had so much to learn.

Westlie covered her mouth with her sleeve and screamed into it, shoulders shaking as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Fitzroy, what do I do? Tell me what to do. You’re the captain. What do I do?

Books. She always had books.

Westlie stumbled to her feet, drunkenly leaning on the bookshelf as she blinked her way through the tears. Charting, charting, charting, navigation; biology, maps, one of Fitzroy’s journals; she scrubbed her eyes. Some books on the Queen’s fleet, a small book on the Glorious - shame, they could have used that - charts, charts, charts, navigation, diagrams of engines, diagrams of boiler rooms. Bediveres, Altanis, Molochs, Parsivals, Miscllaneous Reclaimed engines. She pulled a few of the books off the shelf onto the ground. Please, please, please, please, please let there be something. Abnomalies, a study of gravity, propultion, engineering, boilers, repairs, navigation, navigation, navigation, Pellinores, Pellinores, Pellinores, engines, repairs. Westlie cried harder as she knelt in the chaos, scanning the last row of books. Repairs, repairs, the Glorious, a series of notes in Fitzroy’s handwriting titled “Cargo Purchase and Sale References”, Pellinores, shipyard references, exploration of the reach, dangerous encounters in the reach, history of the reach, old captains, old engines, dead engines, engine scavenge log. Nothing on crew and captains or reviving dead men.

She’d never felt so helpless.

There wasn’t a hole in her heart, she wasn’t lonely, it was a hole in her stomach that made her want to hurl until there was nothing left; an abomidable chimera of grief and fear. Westlie pounded the bookshelf, feeling the tears drop off her chin into her lap. She should have done something. Anything. Should have stayed behind with Selmer, should have fought the Glorious off. They could have found a better doctor. They should have saved him. Fitzroy deserved to be saved. He deserved to be alive. Westlie sobbed harder, sinking against the bookshelf. All of them had failed, and now Marion was without a father, Westlie was without a teacher, Owen was without a job, Selmer and Elijah were without a friend.

At some point her eyes ran out of tears and she still cried until they burned. She didn’t remember anything else except waking up in the pile of books, every bone in her body aching. There was only a soft fungal luminescence outside the window. The Pyrrhus was deathly quiet, the engine hushed like it too was mourning its Captain.

Oh they were almost out of fuel too.

Westlie hurt too much to feel anything. She stood, facing the desk, her body wanting to sit but immobile. Her eyes felt dead. Without thinking she turned around and unlocked the door, slipping into the open hallway. It was too open, she felt exposed, but too lethargic to care. She made her way to the cab room. All the readings were fine if a bit low. There was some comfort in checking the pressure gauge, something she could touch; something she had control over.

Westlie opened the door to the catwalk of the engine room and looked down. The engine itself hissed softly, the coal bin was almost empty. Marion was curled in her cot, Selmer and Lizzie nearby. Westlie watched them for a second, then shut the door again. She walked down the hall to the now-empty cargo hold. The beds where the tiny family slept were still up, otherwise it was empty. Down to the crew quarters. Her bed was empty in the corner. Owen and Elijah were on the opposite sides of the room. The first sleeping, Elijah awake and... doing something by candlelight. Westlie couldn’t quite see, nor did she care. She turned away without being seen, hesitating before Fitzroy’s cabin.

She hated herself for standing there, for just staring at the handle with her dead eyes and empty soul and finally, like a ghost was moving for her, opening the door and stepping in.

It looked like he left it. It looked like he would come back any moment. There was cold coffee on the desk from at least two days ago after their escape from New Winchester. Someone made the fucking bed. There were book out, his reading spectacles on the nightstand. Westlie felt the tears well up again her but it just made her eyes burn worse. There was blood on the floor by the bed. She should clean that. Later. Tomorrow. She stepped to the far side of the room, making a circle around the stain in respect for the dead, and picked up the book by his nightstand. “Captain’s Log: Nov 1903 - ____”

She couldn’t take it. Westlie bit her lip to keep from letting out a sob as she grabbed the book and fled, still carefully to keep her footsteps hushed and not let the door sound. She escaped back into the map room, locked the door again, and sank down like earlier. She hated herself for opening the book. She hated herself for skipping most of Fitzroy’s neat, precise scribbles and going all the way to the last few pages. They were shakey and succinct.

Difficulty breathing from gunshot wound. Aid must be administered but our only chance is a homestead. Lustrum is too far; suggested course for Father Apollyon.

[Blood dotted the last entry from a coughing fit.]

Set my will in order in case of surgery failure. Pyrrhus command will be passed to Westlie; I trust the crew to help her. Estate portions for the rest of them; Selmer might forgive me for my lack of trust when he can easily support his mother. Documents filed in letters for London. May I be remembered as a good man if I do not live.

Westlie set the book down and covered her face with her hands. Fitzroy you fool. Fitzroy you FOOL.

Why didn’t he pick Elijah? Elijah deserved it. Kind, loyal Elijah. She couldn’t see Selmer or Marion taking command, but Elijah would do alright. She could follow him. But her?

Westlie felt the overwhelming urge to cry for the fifth time that night; truly overwhelming because a few tears leaked down her cheeks despite her puffy eyes. She was new, quiet, incompetent, and hotheaded. The crew didn’t trust her- for fuck’s sake she’d lost the battle with Marion over that fucking smoke shell. And Marion ended up being right; if they’d fought the Glorious would they have come out in one piece? Westlie let out a bitter laugh. She might as well die with Fitzroy and pass it to someone else that way.

Why Fitzroy? You knew I wanted to be a navigator. You knew I was good at it. You must have figured I’d never be a good captain. My father is a monster. I’ve done horrible things. They’ll look to me for guidance and I have empty palms and a checkered past. You put me as First Mate because I was good at paperwork and good at numbers. I’m nobody’s friend. Not even Lizzie’s. Why would you let me lead?

Why did you let me come with you?

If Fitzroy was there in the room with her, Westlie would have punched him. Lost her temper, told him to fuck off and check his pipe for honey; she was incapable, she was absolutely not ready. He was her captain but he was wrong.

But he was her captain.

Westlie tossed the book onto the earlier pile by the bookshelf and curled against the wall. Damn him. Damn him for dying. Damn him for jumping in front of Selmer. Damn the Glorious. ... She had to listen didn’t she. That was his order. Not only his last order, but his dying wishes. Who could refuse that? She would just... have to be as much like Fitzroy as she could remember. Westlie laughed a little bitterly. Well she knew who not to be like; she could start there too.

It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid. She was stupid. Stupid death, stupid timing, stupid her, stupid decision. The situation bared its full weight on her and she couldn’t even tell it to fuck off because she couldn’t muster the strength to be angry. She didn’t want to fight; she was tired of fighting. She’d gotten her hopes up and the world had put her in her place. She would always, always be alone. Westlie balled herself up tighter against the wall and cried herself to sleep a second time.

#westlie #skyfarer #skyfarer rpg #the crew of the pyrrhus #crew of the pyrrhus #the adventures of the pyrrhus #I don't feel like writing every characters reaction to it especially because I think we should all write these pieces individually #I just felt like writing Traumatized!Westlie per usual #I feel like this is low-key important to her characterization as well #(so I'm shamelessly writing this to make me a better RPer)#because she knows instinctively Fitzroy is both a good person and a good captain. he's not emotive not expressive but he's helpful and good #she's never had a leadership roll in her life personal or work related it's all very based on Do What Other People Say #And then once fitzroy is dead and there's nobody to tell her what to do; it's Group Opinion because she feels like Fitzroy wouldn't do #anything the crew didn't specific want him to do; which is very fair. He didn't anticipate getting tangled in with the Glorious #and otherwise he told selmer and elijah and marion pretty much everything; he wasn't closed off #but then (I haven't fanficed nor do I plan to fanfic this) Elijah starts needling her to take responsibility and stop deferring to others #she defers to Not Being Like Arthur which I think is going to be her moral guide for a while #it's a pretty good guide #arthur is an asshole #eventually she might have to toss that too but not for now #I wanted to write a short piece where Fitzroy explains why he allowed her on the Pyrrhus in the first place with her father being an arse #but I figured that would be better left in nicks hands #sunless skies

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sevenseasofrog · 5 years

Text

Lads ‘n Lasses

pairing: highschool!ben x fem!reader

summary: single sex schools are never boring

word count: 2982

a/n: wagwan gs, this might not be to everyone’s taste but i’ll see how it goes, this is the first time i’ve imagined myself as the reader while writing ?? not as someone else reading it ?? it’s also set in a manchesterish sort of place bc i had a major mind block trying to write about anywhere else other than where i actually live ,, that probably sounds weird idk aha, it’s defo an au where ben basically is still in education and all sorts of chaos takes place as the year moves forward ,, anyway ,, enjoy !! if you have any questions or likewise feel free to send an ask bc i see how it could be semi confusing ,, love u all a lotta :) ❤️

here’s also some stuff that could make it less confusing (especially if you’re not familiar with lingo from north west england, i’ll maybe add to this with each new chapter that comes out :)

St. Mary’s/ Mary’s- the all girls school the reader attends, quite middle class and full of students who like to make drama for their own entertainment, strong focus on languages and arts

St. Peter’s/ St. Pete’s - the all boys ‘brother’ school to St. Mary’s, very laddish with a focus on sports and science

Niamh & Maria - the reader’s two closest and longest friends

Tram/Met - British version of an overground subway?

Shout - another word for a houseparty

Snide - unfair

Swear down - saying you are telling the truth

also, the reader and ben are between the ages of like 17 and 18ish, the whole thing isn’t very accurate to the uk school system but it works a little better like that so yall are gonna have to go with it aha

ps, this chapter is spilt in two bc i got very carried away when writing it and tumblr has a word limit, hmph. however, that does technically mean that i can say i’ve written two chapters not just one ?? go me !!

Chapter 1: September

4th of September, the night before a new term, new academic year and a nearly fresh start. Your last year at St Mary’s had not been something you were dreading so to speak, and now it was finally here. Thanks to upcoming exams, you only had a little over five months to get through before freedom, and eventually, a completely clean slate at a new, far less intimidating school environment. Anticipation building, you called it a night

6:15am. You woke up to the painful sound of your alarm clock, early morning sun peeking through the split between the curtains. Eager to silence the blaring noise you crawled out of the comfort of the duvet and hastily clicked the stop button in the centre of your phone screen. You made your way into the bathroom, careful not to wake your parents, brushed your teeth and quickly got undressed before stepping into the shower, letting the cool water run down your back without getting your hair wet, since you had it cut and washed yesterday afternoon. Slipping on your school uniform you caught eye of yourself in the mirror and decided that you had nothing to lose by putting on a little makeup, you had time after all. It was about 7am when you made your way downstairs, the house still quiet with only you awake. These mornings were the ones you liked best, just you and your own thoughts, with no one to bother you other than the dogs. It was still relatively warm during the September days so you chose to leave your jumper hung over a chair in the kitchen, putting just your blazer over your crisp, white blouse. Throwing an apple and cereal bar into your bag for later in the day, you figured that you might as well also pack some paracetamol and chewing gum for good measure, knowing it would come in handy eventually. You headed into the hallway to sit on the bottom step of the stairs to put your shoes on, tying the laces as tight as you possibly could, slung the black tote over your shoulder and grabbed your set of keys, which were usually on a hook which your dad had attached to the wall earlier in the year.

The walk to the tram stop was pleasant enough. There was no real breeze and you walked with your hands in you pockets to the beat of the music. Skipping down the steps to the platform to buy a ticket for the week, the change rattled in your pocket, and you had to cover it to stop anything flying out. Once you had finally managed to get the machine to produce a ticket after it spat out the coins you tried to use a few times, you spun round and walked towards the sheltered seats down the further end of the stop. It was only 7:45 by this stage and there were still very few people around. Missing the school rush was certainly worth it for you, and it also meant there was time to grab a coffee on the way to school with Niamh and Maria, who both got on at later stops anyway. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, deciding to text your parents, as you did every morning to let them know you were okay. You skipped a few songs before slipping your phone back into your pocket and looking up to examine your surroundings, following a good few weeks of not coming to the somewhat grimy metro stop, nothing had changed. The ground was still caked in chewing gum, graffiti littered the ticket machines, and the bin was, as ever, overflowing.

There was one thing different though, slightly odd too. A blonde haired boy who you had never seen before was stood on the opposite platform. Weird. It was then that you noticed he was in the uniform for St. Peter’s, with a backpack hung on one shoulder and a gym bag on the floor- grim move from the newbie. It suddenly hit you however. He was on the wrong platform, and could end up getting on a tram further into the city centre rather than away from it. God, this was awkward. You could leave him? it would be kind of funny? but also a bit snide.

No.

Don’t do that you told yourself. Deciding to ‘start the new term right’ you cleared your throat before shouting across

“You going to St. Pete’s mate?”

He looked up from the ground, obviously somewhat confused, checking to see whoever the person who had shouted was talking too. Luckily, this was quite easy, given that he then noticed that he was in fact the only person on the platform. You gave a wave and as friendly a smile as you could muster given it wasn’t even 8 o’clock yet, in a desperate attempt to get his attention, which just so happened to work.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Because given that you’re on the wrong platform, you’re gonna have a very hard time getting there”. His jaw dropped a little

“You are joking, right?”

“Nope!”, you popped the ‘p’, just for emphasis, “So... are you just gonna stand there like a lemon or change platforms then?”. He quickly picked his bag off the ground and jogged up the steps to the bridge. As he crossed you rolled the waistband of your skirt up, realising that you previously looked a little to nun-ish for your liking. By the time you had finished fixing up your appearance the mysterious blonde was plodding down the steps, towards you. Shit. Now what?

You had just about composed yourself by the time he reached you.

“Ben. Ben Jones” he spoke, before offering his hand to shake.

“You’re very proper aren’t you!?”, you thought out loud “guessing you're not from up here then hm? Name’s y/n l/n by the way, I go to St. Mary’s”, you said, trying to remain friendly.

“Yeah, moved up from Bournemouth at the start of summer. My parents wanted to come up here so I had a chance of getting some sort of sports scholarship or something for rugby, y’know, for uni and that”. He spoke with quite a low, quiet voice, but definitely had a southern accent that you couldn’t imagine going any time soon. Now he was stood nearer, you had managed to get a clearer picture of Ben; he was very well built and had the physique of a genuine sportsman, He wasn’t too tall- but still taller than you by a considerable amount. His facial features were mostly soft, although his nose looked like it could have been broken in past games and he had the most striking green eyes.

“Well, you’d have had a pretty difficult time getting anywhere if you were stuck in the centre of town.” you both let out a laugh.

“Honestly, I’m such a melt, only I could do that on one of the few days that being on time actually matters”. You broke eye contact momentarily to see that a tram was approaching.

“Right then” you said, stepping towards the edge of the platform. “We’re a bit early but I normally get a coffee anyway, you can come if you want? I mean, you don’t have to get this one if you don’t want but if you do then the offer’s there..” You trailed off, noticing that you had waffled on a bit.

“Aha, no it’s fine! I’d be happy to get this one, you’re literally the first person I’ve spoken to who’s like, my age so it’s not like I have anyone to wait for. Plus, I’ll probably get lost if you abandon me now.” He looked up with puppy dog eyes after picking his gym bag off the floor again.

Stepping on the tram, you decided to offer him your first piece of valuable advice; “Right… Well. If we’re gonna be mates I better give you the rules of the road up here”.

“Go on then, local expert”, he said with a smirk.

“First things first. Don’t put your bag on the floor. It’s crusty and makes you look like a gimp”.

“Noted”, he spoke as the pair of you sat on the grey seats.

“Second. Most of the boys are maniacs and the girls are awful bitches, I’d say that I’d help you figure out who’s who but you’ll probably be able to decide for yourself”.

“Hm, you’re really selling it to me. The brutal honesty is a nice touch”. You gave a playful punch to the side of his arm, with a grin smeared across your face.

“Swear down mate, you’ll thank me later for this though.”

The journey passed in a flash, the pair of you talking like friends reunited. You learnt that he had a beagle named Frankie, lived not too far from you, he played rugby for teams but also enjoyed drama and music.

“You’re quite the character aren’t you! can’t say I took you for a performing arts kinda guy”

“Well… What kind of person did you take me as then, all knowing-y/n”

“Well Ben from Bournemouth.. that would be telling wouldn’t it, I can tell you however that this is our stop though”. You both stood up, grabbing your bags and heading for the doors of the carriage. You had a text from Niamh and Maria earlier on in the journey saying they’d be late and there was no point waiting for them, so you carried on the walk alone with Ben.

“If I left you here right now, would you have any clue where to go?” you questioned, genuinely intrigued.

“Erm.. no… I would have to stand around for a bit and hope someone takes pity on me”

“What about google maps though??”

“Hmm.. Let’s just say that there’s a reason I don’t take geography”

The coffee shop was about the same distance from the tram stop as is was from school, and it was about 20 past 8 when you pushed open the door with a small chime. It was a cosy little café, situated on the corner of the market street with wicker chairs outside and brown leather sofas inside. You never stayed in however, much preferring to enjoy whatever you brought during the rest of the walk to school. Today was a latte day, no questions asked. You liked to rotate throughout a few different drinks, depending on your mood. Ben stood close by as you explained how you’d most definitely be on black coffee by this time next week, but you might have the odd pumpkin spiced latte as September moved into October, just for novelty really. He gave out a small chuckle,

“You really are in a league of your own aren’t you? I’ve known you like an hour and I’m convinced you hold the secrets of the universe or some shit”. You liked Ben. He was good company and you had a fair bit in common;

“and what if I did hold the secrets of the universe huh?”

“I’d use the black market to sell you to a looney philosopher somewhere or other and make myself some fat stacks.” You both doubled over in complete hysterics. Would it be weird to say that you’d never bonded so quickly with someone? yeah, probably you thought, brushing the idea away quickly. Your giggle fit was quickly broken up however when the barista announced that your drink was ready, you fished the loose change out of your pocket and handed it over moments later,

“keep the change mate” you said politely, turning on your heel towards the door once again.

“You really are quite the angel aren’t you?” the boy walking next to you said “ooooo, keep the change mate, I’m y/n and I am the source of all life and joy” he mocked.

“You know it blondie”, you retorted with a smirk.

You had walked a fair deal further, now following the main road and considerably nearer to school when Ben reached into his inside pocket .pulling out a cigarette and lighter. You silently watched out of the corner of your eye as he held the stick in his mouth and lit one end, he inhaled deeply before taking it from between his lips to exhale. Before his could bring his hand back up however, you plucked it from his fingers and drew a breath from it yourself before throwing it down and stamping on it. Ben simply stood with his mouth hung open looking dumbfounded. “Whoa steady on...What the fuck was that about then? Oh… and for the record, you owe me a cig now!”, he spoke with a tone of shock mixed with annoyance

“Boo-Hoo”, you spoke back, “But neither of us can have a first day back if we get excluded before we even get to school you dimwit. There’s teachers stood by the traffic lights down there”, you pointed further down the pavement. “See for yourself if you want…” you trailed off. Ben looked a little guilty, realising that he could have got you both in a good deal of trouble,

“Ah, Right, Okay… Sorry about that..”

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly. It’s fine, you’re new! You’ve got a lot to learn still”, you gave him a reassuring smile, but you could tell that he still felt a twinge of regret.

The pair of you carried on the walk in a comfortable silence, and as you approached St. Peter’s a thought struck you. “Right. After school, wait for me here, I don’t really want you being lost in a new town stuck on my conscience all night”

“How noble of you, Miss y/l/n! How will I ever repay you for this selfless act of charity!” He exaggerated, running his hands through his hair as he spoke.

“We’ll have to see about that one won’t we, I guess”, You hitched your bag back onto your shoulder properly. Before he turned into the courtyard of his new school he grabbed your arm,

“Wait a minute... you give off way too much chaotic energy for things to run smoothly. What’s your snap or your number or something incase something goes horribly wrong” He spoke again, with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Hm, go on then, I’ll give you my number then you can just add me on snapchat with it too if you really want. Two birds with one stone ‘n all that”, you reached into your bag and pulled out a pen. “Gimmie something to write on, chop chop matey!” you spoke hurridley, realising that you only had 10 minutes before you needed to be sat down in your first registration of the academic year. In a panic, he stuck out his hand, and you began to scribble down the first few digits.

“Fucking hell! I thought you were writing it down not tattooing it!”, he took in a sharp breath.

“Hm.. What.. Wait! Shit, sorry.. I’m a bit heavy handed”. You finished writing the numbers down with a conscious attempt not to press quite so hard and then threw the pen back into your bag.

“Aight then, I’ll see you later yeah?” He looked up at you,

“See ya later lemon boy”. You shot another smile before continuing on a few meters further down the path and approached the gates of St. Mary’s.

Hello old friend, you thought before taking a deep breath and turning into the school, with no way out for the next few hours at least. You stepped hurriedly through the labyrinth of corridors before reaching the room where you’d be registered. Throwing your bag onto your usual desk you could feel two sets of eyes on you.

“y/n l/n, You have some explaining to do! go on then, who’s the boy?” Niamh began, a devilish grin on her face.

“Gimme a second to sort my life out yeah? I just need to get my bearings then you can interrogate me”, you spoke, followed by a heavy sigh. After you put your bag in your new locker you returned to the desk where you were greeted by your long time friends once again. “Wait a minute, how do you even know? started hiring government spies or some shit?”

“Erm, no. But that’s quite a good idea actually. If you’re that desperate to know, Lewis sent me a message asking if you’d got a boyfriend over summer..” You let out a scoff before Maria could continue. “He still really likes you ya know?”

“Yes mum, I do know, you remind me most days” You all let out a laugh, attracting some attention from the neighboring tables.

“We’re off topic, you still need to explain yourself and we have like, 3 minutes until the bell goes” Niamh interrupted, she had always been the most conscious member of the group, as much as both you and Maria hated to admit.

“Right, I’ll keep it simple. I was at the met stop and he was stood on the wrong side so I told him to switch otherwise he’d never make it to school then he told me that his name’s Ben and he’s new and he’s in our year and then we got on the tram and then we went to get coffee then he decided he wanted a smoke and then I told him off and then we got to school and then I told him I’d meet him after school then I walked into school and now I’m here with you two” You barely paused for breath and gasped before either of your friends could continue, both of them looking shocked and rather confused.

“Right. You can explain that all again later in a bit only at least 76 times slower. ok? thanks? nice” is all Maria managed to respond before the door swung open and your teacher walked in...

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