#which is to say he brought a flute and surprised me by playing the East German anthem | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

namjoonspiration · 4 years

Text

Saudade

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Summary: After your parents died, you are the sole heiress to a booming electrical company, and your grandmother has put you to the task of making connections. Although, Park Jimin didn’t seem all too happy to see you.

Word count: 16.8k

Rating: M

Genre: fluff, angst, 1920s AU, non-idol AU

Warnings/Tags: Short, non-descriptive mentions of parental death and miscarriage (i.e. no gore or graphic material); so much angst; mentions of amnesia, apathy and heartbreak; lots and lots of kisses. It’s not really a hardcore story. I purposefully tried to keep my story from being too heavy.

Author’s note: This is my first BTS fanfiction, so please go easy on me. I tried my best at editing, so I apologize or any blaring grammatical errors or word misusage. If you liked it, please leave a comment or a heart. It’ll help me continue forward with my other projects 🥺👉🏻👈🏻Enjoy!

Masterlist

You were the picture of perfect togetherness. Your grandmother had made sure of it. You must present yourself as the rightful heiress to the family fortune if you are to be accepted by these people. Rightful heiress? You’re the only heiress. These people can be quick to judge. No, really? The thought hadn’t crossed your mind all day. The maids had entered your room before the crack of dawn to get you ready for battle for a brunch that wouldn’t start for another several hours.

White satin T-strap shoes with crystal embellishments adorn your feet, which stand in a precise parallel position. White gloves fit perfectly to your fingers, hands fold neatly right over left, which hold your soft pink Chanel purse. Your loose, straight-fit dress of a matching color falls below your knees. Underneath are the ungodly itchy flesh-tone tights that you had despised since you bought them. Your hair, which is painstakingly curled and styled into a bob to the give the illusion of the short trendy hairstyle nowadays, was half-hidden under a white cloche hat. Pearls--all of which tapped with every step into the mansion of magnificent grandeur--adorned your ears, neck, and wrists.

It was hard to focus your eyes on anything in this place. At any point, dark rich colors of purple, red and dark brown jumped out to blind you, making you feel as though the sun didn’t come out this morning. Portraits upon portraits of the family line the walls, along with countless gold plaques. Oddly shaped awards and random busts perch on pedestals. Clearly the people who owned this house--the Parks--were not shy about displaying their achievements in the industry and within their family. But then again, who lived in the East Isles and didn’t have the main entrance of their home brag about their elite status for them?

You didn’t. Yes, because you weren’t a narcissist. You were also “new money.” Your family hadn’t been in the electrical business for generations... People seem to forget it’s still a relatively new thing.

To be honest, you didn’t really care you were here. The pomp and circumstance didn’t make your heart jump or your fists clench. In fact, nothing these days invoked much emotion from you. You’re not sure when you started feeling that way and why it was so prevalent. Maybe it was after your parents passed away a couple years ago. Your grandmother came to live with you to help you transition into your new life. You had asked her repeatedly how your parents died, but she never could bring herself to tell the story. You mourned your parent of course, but after a while, you just stopped feeling most emotion.

So, as you walk behind your grandmother--who was talking to Mrs. Park presumably--you wondered about the food you might get to eat. If anything brought you real satisfaction and pleasure from living this lifestyle, it was the meals. However, you don’t think scarfing down food will win you any points with these people today. Your job was to network today, make connections to build your way up in the world, or so your grandmother had put it. Once again, you didn’t care, but your grandmother very much. did. So, you decided that you would do your best for her. Your apathy may get you most days, but you know in your mind without a doubt that doing this for your grandmother would make her happy, thus should make you happy. Even if you didn’t feel it.

Hopefully, Hwasa, your life-long best friend, is here. She should be. After all, her family doesn’t own the largest portion of the country’s textile industry for nothing. She was always best dressed and loved getting a kick out of the other ladies gawking at her perfectly stitched clothes that were ahead of the trends.

“Y/n,” your grandmother calls, waving at you come forward to her side. You obey, and the butler opens the door, announcing your arrival. Good lord... You felt like fresh meat being served to the wolves. But, of course, the scene before you is masqueraded in pastel colors, silk furniture, glimmering flute glasses, and smiling faces to make the whole situation seem less grotesque than it felt.

You survey the room to find most eyes on you. Ladies piled around the couches in front of the open floor-to-ceiling windows had stopped chattering and sipping their tea. More of them clustered in small groups had stopped their conversation as well, some even daring to give you looks of disapproval. However, there were some that might as well have been deaf to the announcement, much to your gratitude. Young children still run around the room or played their games on the lawn just outside the open French doors. Old men continue with their odious laughter and cigar smoking. Even the young men don’t spare you more than a glance or two.

Except for one.

A young man with dark blond hair dressed in a dark blue suit, gently cradling a flute in his ringed hand. Perhaps more striking than his blue-gray eyes are his full pink lips, which were slightly parted to reveal one slightly crooked tooth in an otherwise perfect row of white teeth. You have never seen a man with a face such as his. But what is even odder is the way his eyes shone as he looks at you.

You tilt your head slightly, holding his stare. What a weird way to look at a stranger.

Your curiosity about his strange behavior only goes so far. Suddenly, the brightness on his face is gone, replaced with a deep frown and a scowl aimed towards his shoes.

So much for trying to appear approachable and “make connections.” You had not learned anyone’s names yet, and it was already going south.

Your grandmother tugs on your arm, steering you over to the ladies surrounding the couches. Then the introductions and small talk begin. You only had enough motivation to explain the premise of your family business and some future projects and contribute to some of the minor gossip being shared. You didn’t want to be doing this at all, but your grandmother had put in so much effort today to make sure this went swimmingly. She was also putting up with it so you and she could continue to live comfortably.

Every so often, you survey the room again. After almost two hours into this, the men have filed out, probably to have a crack at the gaming tables, and the children have been laid down for their afternoon naps. You thought you even needed a nap yourself. Or maybe it was the conversation. In any case, you excuse yourself to freshen up.

Once outside the room, you take a deep breath, inhaling the air free of heavy perfume and bad breath. You wonder around the seemingly endless hallways, looking at the paintings and occasional pieces of art. Anything to delay going back to the gathering.

Then, you hear harsh. whispering. Slowly, careful of the noise from your shoes against the floor, you approach the voices and peer around the corner.

To your surprise, it’s your best friend. She is talking furiously with a man, whose back is almost completely facing you, his hand propping himself against the wall not too far from her.

“Hwasa?” You call, stepping out completely from the corner. She jumps at her name, and the man stiffens. She looks over the man’s shoulder in your direction and smiles brightly at you.

“Y/n, is that you?” She steps around the man and greets you with a hug. “It’s so wonderful to see you! It has. been way too long.” You relish in the brief happiness you best friend’s hug gives you. Then, your smile falls. She notices when she pulls away and follows your line of vision.

He is looking directly at you. The young man who actually isn’t happy to see you after all. “I must be interrupting something,” you state blatantly. “You know, Hwasa if you wanted to be intimate with the son of the house, you should have demanded he take you to a less-traveled part of the home.”

They both look at you in surprise, and it’s enough to make you cringe. “How did you know he was the son?” Hwasa asks.

“The paintings.” You look around the hallways, twirling your finger. “Kind of obvious.” Hwasa lets out a laugh. The son breathes out a sigh--not sure if it’s relief or something else--and then chuckles to himself. “What’s so funny?” He stops but doesn’t respond. “Hwasa, your man is very rude.”

She smiles sweetly and laughs off your comment, “Oh, he’s not mine. I’m way above his standards. And I don’t like men who can’t bother to be polite and introduce himself properly to a new friend,” she hisses in his direction. “Come on, let’s have a proper introduction.” She grabs your hand to lead you closer to the man. “Y/n, this is Park Jimin. His family is in the metal industry--”

“Old family steel,” you mutter, but both fo them apparently hearing it.

Jimin looks at you curiously, “How’d you figure that? The paintings?”

You shrug, “I just knew that. Maybe it somehow came across my vision when I was admiring all the participation trophies at the door,” you say, with probably a little too much sarcasm. His eyebrows rose, and you saw Hwasa try to hold in a giggle. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Park.” I think. “I’ll just leave now, so you two can finish your private conversation.”

Hwasa stops you, her mood cheery again. Probably to mask the shocked and confused feelings coming from Mr. Park. “It’s alright, y/n. I need to do my pleasantries with those in the sitting room. Why don’t you get to know Jimin more? I find him to be one of the more tolerable ones in this lot. I’ll see you later.”

Once Hwasa is gone, you continue to look around the hallway, but Mr. Park is just staring at you as if he’s trying to figure you out. You notice he’s somewhat taller than you, his sun-kissed skin looking even deeper in color in this oddly lit hallway.

“Are you mind-reading skills working?”

He is caught off guard. “What?”

“I was wondering if you had discovered anything about me while you were burning holes into my head.”

He scoffs. “You’re awfully blunt.”

You simply shrug again. The emotionless part of you felt dominating today, so his comments and strange looks don’t affect you. You think back to Hwasa’s bright personality and heart-warming interaction when she greeted you. It sparked some brief brightness in your stoic heart, but only briefly.

He clears his throat, trying to fill some of the awkward silence that has blanketed the atmosphere. You look at him expectantly. He raises his eyebrows in response. “Y/n, may I ask you something?”

“Please address me as Miss Y/l/n as we’ve only just met.” You’re quick to speak. He shifts awkwardly on his feet. You soften your tone. “But go ahead.”

“Would you like to have dinner this Friday?”

“Dinner? Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Park?” You are taken back. What an incredulous question. And he had commented you were the blunt one...

“Uh...” He trails off, confusion rippling across his face. “Yes, I am.”

“Mr. Park, may I ask you something?” You don’t even give him the chance to nod. “When I first arrived, you seemed very unhappy, and dare I say, disgusted, at my presence, and now you’re asking me to have dinner with you?” It seems that Mr. Park is giving you quite the first impression as you feel anger start to flare in your chest.

His eyes widen in panic. “No, y/n--I mean Miss Y/l/n. Please do not misunderstand my earlier interaction.”

“Misunderstand? How could I have possibly misunderstood you when you looked directly at me and appeared as if I insulted you?” You fire back.

“I apologize. It was not like that. You just reminded me of someone who broke my heart.” He rushes out in a hurry to redeem himself. Well, it didn’t seem clear to him that he failed until a few moments later when he squeezed his eyes shut and palmed his forehead.

You practically gawk at him. “I’ll give you the effort of trying to save yourself Mr. Park, but I will not give you a second chance to redeem yourself over dinner.” And with that, you walk off, heels clicking against the mahogany floors.

What a spoiled boy. He’s probably never had a woman reject him before. It brought you satisfaction that you were probably the first. Never has a man looked at you with such distaste and then try to woo you with dinner. You don’t know what he wants from you, but he wasn’t going to get it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the gathering stretched into the late hours of the afternoon. You didn’t see Mr. Park or his parents for the rest of the day. Hwasa grabs you before leaving the party, telling you to meet her for lunch Friday on Brouton Street.

And you do, and it turns into more of a shopping spree than a lunch date. Not that you were complaining. You never complained when it came to shopping and trying on the latest fashion trends out of Europe. You stepped out of probably the thirteenth ship you’ve visited today when you notice it was already two pm, and you still haven’t eaten lunch yet. You were waiting outside the shop while Hwasa was paying for her new bracelet.

You survey the bustling street, thinking about what you wanted for lunch when you spot a pair of men that seem to have all the ladies giggling to themselves and their friends. Even wives are looking twice, much to the discomfort of their husbands who definitely noticed, but weren’t immune to looking a second time as well. As they got closer to you, your vision focuses.

Mr. Park.

You couldn’t resist rolling your eyes at the name. What a surprise. Next to him is a dark-haired young man you didn’t know. They were dressed to the nines, complete with hats and walking sticks--more for fashion rather than function.

They spot you, and the young man gives you a big, boxy smile and a wave. Your eyebrows shoot up, and you look around to make sure he wasn’t waving to someone else. By the time you stop looking around, they’ve approached you. The strange young man seems ecstatic to see you while Mr. Park looks embarrassed. Serves him right.

“Hello, Miss y/n.” The young man greets you enthusiastically.

You blink. “I’m sorry, have we met before?” And why didn’t you greet me formally, you wonder. You glance towards Mr. Park. His lips are pressed, hand tightening on your walking stick.

The young man laughs charmingly, but somewhat nervous. “Oh, right. It’s just... my friend, Jimin, here mentioned you!”

“Did he?” You smile, sweetly. Almost too sweetly. Mr. Park’s jaw clenches. “How did you know what I looked like?” You inquire further for the fun of it.

Mr. Park quickly cuts in. “I--we saw you b-back there,” he gestures down the sidewalk. “I said, oh that’s y/n--Miss y/l/n. We met the other day...” He looks anywhere else but at you in the eyes. You narrow your gaze at him.

The store’s door opens with the ring of a bell, and Hwasa joins you. “Taehyung! It’s so good to see you again.” She gives him a quick hug. You notice some of the other women walking around you are gawking or giving her death stares. “I hope your time in Paris was spent well. Have you met my best friend, Miss y/l/n? She’s new to town. Her parents made quite the fortune in the electrical sciences, and she is their sole heir. Y/n,” she gently wraps her arm around yours, “this is Kim Taehyung, a true artist. He has his own exhibit in Paris to display his work. He also dabbles a bit in photography.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kim.” You smile.

“Please call me Taehyung. Mr. Kim is my father,” he laughs, showing off that boxy grin of his again. You have to admit he’s a very charismatic person.

“Alright, but please address me as Miss y/l/n for the time being. I understand Jimin may not have told you my last name, but I would hate to see his rudeness rub off on your seemingly polished character.” You tack on a smile at the end, hoping Mr. Park feels the jab.

Indeed, he does. Mr. Park sputters, muttering “polished” under his breath like it was the last word he’d use to describe Taehyung. You ignore him.

“Yes, Miss y/l/n.”

Hwasa interjects, “Well, y/n and I are famished. Would you both care to join us for a late lunch?” Before you could protest, Taehyung agrees enthusiastically. Hwasa takes his arm, leading the way back up the street. You pout. You wanted to eat with your best friend only, who you haven’t seen in forever. Mr. Park notices your sad expression and offers his arm to you. You simply look down, tightening your grip on your bags before following Taehyung and Hwasa.

Jimin rubs his face in frustration, watching you walk away without a second glance. He can’t keep tiptoeing around you. He made himself a royal fool and an ass last week at the gathering. He needed to fix this if he wanted to get closer to you.

Mr. Park catches up to your side. “Miss y/l/n,” he speaks politely.

“Yes?” You offer.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot, and I apologize if you find my behavior to be untoward. I was not very good at expressing myself the other day, and it bothers me greatly that you would think that I find you unpleasant when I really don’t.”

You consider his words. The apology was genuine, you know that. You also. know that he found you pretty. Or at least Hwasa had told you as much. You complained to her earlier about Mr. Park’s behavior at his. house. She had laughed, claiming it was because he found you attractive. You were confused as to what made her say that. She explained that you were all he could ask about before you found them in the hallway.

You didn’t know what to say. Hwasa wouldn’t lie to you. It certainly made your heart flutter that Mr. Park, an uncommonly handsome man--discounting his behavior--would find you attractive. You can’t say you didn’t stand in front of the mirror for a while after that figuring out what he liked about your appearance. In the end, you credited his odd behavior with the fact he found you pretty. While that did not excuse his rudeness, his present apology has rerouted the course of your thoughts. He genuinely seemed like he was trying to make amends.

“Alright, Mr. Park. I forgive you. I understand that sometimes introductions and first impressions can go awry. Especially if the man finds the woman astonishingly pretty and charming.” You gently fiddle with your diamond earring.

“Pretty?” he asks, chuckling.

You stop walking and turn towards him, “Do you not find me so?” Your tone is accusatory.

He looks a bit panicked. “No. I mean, yes. I--” You take a step closer.

“You what, Mr. Park?” You ask, looking into his blue-gray eyes, which are traveling all across your face before landing back to your eyes. Your brain has already started to take back every meaning you put to his apology.

“I think you’re more than pretty.” He finally breathes out, tension slipping from his shoulders.

Your heart pounds so heavily against your chest, your composure slips. A blush rises to your cheeks, partly from relief and partly from embarrassment. “I apologize,” you say, suddenly your voice much softer.

He didn’t seem to hear it. Instead, he smiles, eyes twinkling. “I think you’re very beautiful, Miss. y/l/n.” Oh, your mind blanks momentarily. Now you felt like the fool. Your cheeks become hotter, pulse racing faster. He said it with such nakedness. He didn’t beat around the bush about it or tease you into guessing how you looked in his eyes. You lay a hand on your cheek, surprised at the heat. Hopefully he would think it’s the weather. It has been unusually warm lately. Your flustered state is clearly evident. Mr. Park grins cutely at you. While your head is still swimming, trying to process the abrupt change in your interaction, he gently takes your shopping bags from you before shifting it to hold in his hand that holds the walking stick. He offers his arm again, “Shall we catch up with Taehyung and Miss Hwasa?”

Your eyes snap to his. Your cheeks are still flushed, lips parted.

Jimin thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s seen.

Suddenly, as if you fell into a drunk stupor but without the disorientation and wild behavior, you feel warm and… fuzzy, like you were covered in a soft blanket. You haven’t felt this kind of happy feeling in what seemed like forever. And he does look incredibly cute with the way he was smiling at you.

Returning the sentiment, you take his arm. The muscles hiding underneath his peach colored suit jacket felt strong in your hands.

You two leisurely stroll, having lost Hwasa and Taehyung after they turned the street corner.

“Do you know where we are eating?”

“This little French restaurant between Main and Central. Le Lacroix Pâtissier.”

He hums contently, “I love their almond croissants and apple tartlets.”

“Really? Those are my favorite dishes! Are those your favorite?”

He shakes his head. “But I had a friend who insisted I try them once, and I ended up really liking them.”

You were pleased. “You have good taste, Mr. Park.”

“Please, address me as Jimin.”

Your smile to yourself. “Okay, Jimin. Since we are moving onto a first name basis, you may address me as y/n.”

He repeats your name. It rolled softly off his tongue. You like how it sounds very much coming from him. And you, without knowing it, tightly your hold on his arm, leaning more into his solid form as you continue to the restaurant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that Friday, you meet Jimin every week for several weeks at the same restaurant. First Taehyung and Hwasa joined you—you insisted Hwasa come with you to keep you from making a fool of yourself in front of Jimin—but after about two weeks, they claimed other commitments. However, you didn’t mind at that point. You grew really comfortable with Jimin. You talked about everything together—your favorite dishes and restaurants in town, your families and their businesses (okay, those were brief topics of discussion), your interests (you found out you both like dancing, upon which he offered to take you to a dance club sometime), your future plans… Of those, which then led course into deeper topics—marriage and love.

It was a strange conversation, and it wasn’t brought up during lunch. He actually had invited you over to his estate for tea and a meal of any foods that you could want—more of a change of scenery decision if anything. You were concerned that your favorite food might not be so favorite if you kept eating it for several weeks on end.

Following the delicious meal, he suggested a light walk outside. He led you out of the back of the mansion to the small private beach. You both kicked your shoes off, walking in the sand, letting the fine, white grains sift over your toes. You two strolled side by side, enjoying the sun’s warm on your faces, the summer air and each other’s company.

Then, Jimin had asks the question. “Has your grandmother proposed that you marry anyone yet?”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself. “My grandmother wouldn’t put that out there. At least not yet. I think she thinks it would be too soon after the accident.”

Jimin turns sharply towards you, concerning etching lines into his handsome face. “Accident?”

You nod sadly. “Yes. My grandmother told me I fell down the stairs several months ago, and I hit my head. She said it had frightened everyone we knew. She was concerned about my recovery from it all. I don’t think I’ll get married until life returns to normal,” you trial off. “But, actually… I don’t really know what normal is anymore. Not after the accident. It’s like I woke up in the completely different world, and I don’t know what I’m doing. There’s always this awkwardness I can’t get past. It’s like I’m walking on eggshells.”

You weren’t sure why you were telling Jimin all this, but you knew you could tell him, and he wouldn’t make fun of you for it. He wasn’t that kind of person. He seemed very open with you, so you supposed that in your heart, you could be vulnerable with him too.

After the silence became too long, you looked up from your feet and saw Jimin wiping at his eyes. “Jimin, are you crying?” You lay a hand on his arm to stop him from walking any further, and step in front of him. He bows his head lower, and you crane your neck to the side to try to see his face. After a few moments, he breathes in deeply, bringing his head up. He looks at you with eyes, pink and puffy from rubbing at them, and a slight upturn of his lips accompanied by a chuckle.

“The sand and salt keep getting in my eyes. That’s all.”

“Would you like to go back inside?” He shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“No, no, I’m alright. I’m sure I’ll be okay now.” He smiles at you, attempting to reassure you. He blinked away the redness in his eyes. Besides, you look too beautiful in the setting sun for us to leave, was what he wanted to add.

You return his smile. Then, you’re just staring at each other, taking in the colors the evening sky paints on your skins and in your eyes. Then, you ask him, “What about you, Park Jimin? Has your mother arranged you to marry anyone?”

“She did once, to the daughter of a man who owned a successful old railroad company.” He admits.

“Are you still to marry her?”

“No,” he hurriedly states. “I didn’t want to from the start. I eventually pushed it off enough that they let it go. They said they couldn’t wait around forever.”

“Why didn’t you want to? I’d assume a business like that would pile onto your wealth, and she couldn’t have been that hideous.” You inwardly cringe. Why would you try to reason with him?

He laughs, almost bitterly. “You wound me, y/n. To think that I would think about money and looks to be the top priority in finding a wife.” You open your mouth to assure him you don’t think so lowly of him, but he beats you to it. “But I know that’s not like that. You merely considering the things we have to think about in our world. And I know that’s not how you truly think either. I know you wouldn’t marry for money.” You hadn’t realized how close he was until he was gazing intently into your eyes.

“Then what would I marry for?” A soft, curious question.

“Love.” There is no hesitation in his response. He believes it whole-heartedly. Then, he pulls away. “Just as I once tried to do.” He reaches down in the sand, picking up a shell.

You didn’t expect that. “What happened to her?” Jimin’s jaw clenches and unclenches, but not in anger. This was really difficult for him. You suddenly regret asking about it.

Then, he says, “She left. And I haven’t heard from or seen her since three months after I proposed to her.”

“Why would she leave?”

He shook his head, “I don’t think she had a say in leaving, and so she left quietly.” He gently brushes the grains of sand from the shell, exposing its pure white and rose color.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin,” you say after several moments of silence. I’d never imagined that something so horrible could happen to two people in love.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter anymore though. What is done is done, and I can only move forward to find that love again. Except this time, I’m never letting it escape from me so easily.” He sounds resolute, so sure of himself and you can’t help but admire him. He smiles, holding the bonnet shell out to you.

You accept it gratefully, pleased with the small gift. Glancing at Jimin, you see his cheeks have turned pink. Your mouth curves into a smile. You take his hand in both of yours, the shell pressed between your palm and his. His skin feels smooth, and although his hands are smaller than the average, they feel no less strong and comforting. You squeeze his hand lightly in comfort. The bonnet shell imprints a small circle in each of your hands, serving as a little promise of your connection with him. “You’re a good man, Park Jimin. And I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He smiles at you sweetly. But to his unhappiness, you let go of his hand much sooner than he thought you would. However, it didn’t take long before you realized how much you missed it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t see Jimin for the next week and a half. He left to accompany his father out West for several days to learn more about the family business. When he mentioned it, you couldn’t help but pout, which he immediately felt guilty about. He told you that he’d very much make up for the missed Friday lunch tenfold. He promised the next Friday lunch you two would have all the food, chatter and enjoyment as a month’s worth of lunches. Upon this, you giggled and said you would expect nothing less.

During the days he was out of town, you quickly grew to miss his company. After only missing one lunch, you quickly realized how much more time in the week you wanted to spend with him. Those lunches on Fridays, along with the regular community gatherings, just weren’t enough. You wanted to see him every day. He brought brightness back into your days, made you feel warmth and happiness again. And when he talks with you about the hard stuff in life and is so honest with you, it’s like he’s filling in the empty spots in your life. Where your lifestyle of material and money is only the surface of your being, Jimin looks deeper and sees you as the person you are. He never wants to talk about business or money. He always wants to know about you. And you can’t ignore the way your heart flutters when you’re answering one of those many questions about yourself and you catch him so content listening to you.

He would relax in his chair, head slightly tilted to the side, lips turned up in a pleasant smile, his eyes gleaming with interest and admiration. Never once would he look away from you when you spoke. You always had his undivided attention. And the more and more you think about, you love it. His caring heart towards you, his kind words and gentle soul, the ability to be open around him.

But it was also more than that.

You like Jimin so much that you feel you’ve known each other longer than four months. It feels like a lifetime that you’ve known him.

You told Hwasa about it one afternoon while painting in the sunroom of your home, unsure what it meant. She merely giggled at you and said, “Y/n, you’re falling in love. And you know it, too.” You did know in your heart, but you couldn’t help but feel the shock of it all. But also, the doubt given your circumstances.

“But Hwasa, how do I know what love feels like? I feel empty most of the time. I don’t even know if I can know what love is.”

Hwasa stopped you right there, “I know where this is coming from, but you don’t have to you worry about that. No one knows what love feels like until it hits them. Besides, you just told me that Jimin makes you so happy and you miss him so much when he’s not here. Trust me, don’t think I don’t see the moping you’ve done for the past couple days. That’s emotion. You’re feeling everything for him with your heart, and there’s no reason to doubt that, no matter what.” And that was why you loved your best friend so much. She was a grounding force and always has been since the accident. Always a level-headed thinker and confident woman. A true role-model. You gave her the biggest hug, thankful for her friendship. Without her, you thought you would have reasoned yourself out of your love for Jimin.

Finally, after said week and a half, you are walking with Hwasa and your grandmother in The Grand Hotel for a large gathering of all the affluent families in the East Isles.

Of course, you and all the other ladies wouldn’t be in the same room as the men. Instead, the women would be drinking tea, tasting little cakes, gossiping and playing a few rounds of light-hearted card playing while the men ate their hearts out and smoked cigars while testing their gambling skills. They would talk of business, family dealings, blah, blah, blah.

Just as the last of everyone was filing into their respective places, you were trailing behind Hwasa and your grandmother to the tearoom. Then you felt a hand grasp your arm.

You gasp, whipping around to see Jimin with a playful look on his face. Your face breaks into the biggest smile, and he pulls you into an empty hallway in the hotel. When he let go of your hand, you pull him into a hug. “I missed you, Jimin.”

He hugs you back with equal the comfort and emotion, his strong arms pulling you tightly to him. “I missed you as well.” He pulls away and that’s when you noticed his disheveled state.

“Oh, my goodness. Jimin, did you just come from the train station? Your collar isn’t even straight.” You grasp the edges and aid him in fixing it.

“I apologize for the long trip, but it gave me enough time to think about how I’m going to make up for it.” He smirks lightheartedly.

“Oh, really? How?” You asked curiously, smile creeping up on your face. You finish with his collar and brush your hands down his shoulders and arms to smooth out the wrinkles in his jacket.

“We’re going on a picnic tomorrow at the best place in the East Isles. I’ll pick you up tomorrow from your house around lunch time.” He looks hopeful about the idea, but you can’t help but figure from the confidence he exudes that he already knows you’ll agree.

You bite your lip to prevent from smiling too much like a fool. “Okay! That sounds wonderful. I can’t wait.” You dare yourself and kiss his cheek quickly. You’re about to dash off before he could see your face turn scarlet, but he catches your wrist.

He slides his fingers down to grasp yours before bringing the back of your hand to his lips. They press a soft kiss there. He keeps his eyes on you, and your heart won’t stop fluttering. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he smiled at you in farewell.

You practically skipped to the tea hall.

Once there, you sit with Hwasa at a table with four other finely dressed girls. “Oh, good you’re here y/n. We were just about to start.” She hands you a little stack of cards. All of you begin shuffling and laying out cards onto the table as the game begins.

The red-haired girl dressed in a powdery blue color directly across from you seems smug. Hwasa notices it too. “Something you would like to say Florence?” You remark.

She shrugs her shoulders, but the smirk doesn’t leave her face. “I think I’ll be married by spring.”

“Oh! I suppose congratulations are in order then. Who’s the lucky man?” The petite girl at the end of the table chimes in.

“None other than Park Jimin, of course.” Your blood turns to cold steel in your veins. It takes every effort for you not to reveal too much of yourself. Hwasa stiffens next to you. “What other man is there to marry?” Florence has turned her attention directly to you, eyes flashing with spite. Your eyes narrow only enough that she would notice. What was she going on about? Did she know about the time you were spending with Jimin?

Thankfully, being the well-versed girl Hwasa is in social graces, she merely laughs. “Florence, you are funny. Park Jimin has not committed himself to a woman since he was rumored to be in love with someone almost two years ago.” You felt your head swim. Did Hwasa know about Jimin’s lost love too? She was pretty close with Taehyung, who was close with Jimin. Maybe she only knew the rumor. Regardless, your heated rage turns cold, remembering how devastated Jimin looked talking about her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Florence sneers. “Clearly she is long gone. Or maybe she never existed in the first place. I heard a rumor he was using that as an excuse to get out of his previous arranged marriage anyway.”

Hwasa raises her eyebrows, her gaze scrutinizing. “And now you’re saying you’ve magically brought Park Jimin out of his despair and you two are hopelessly in love?” Hwasa harshly fingered the edges of her cards.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She replies with bittersweet venom. “Try not to get jealous, Hwasa. I’m sure Taehyung will propose to you when he finally impresses your father with a fortune earned from his artistic talents. Although I don’t know how long that will take. I heard his exhibit caught on fire last month, torching most of his work. A shame he will have to start over…” Your eyes snapped to Hwasa. She hadn’t told you about the fire. Nor did she ever mention just how close her and Taehyung were.

“Florence,” Hwasa tosses her cards on the table, the paper landing with a smack on the polished wood. “I need you to get your head out of your ass for a minute and listen carefully to what I have to say.” You are shocked at her choice of words. Some women at the table behind you glare in Hwasa’s direction, but she ignores them. “Firstly, Taehyung and I are not getting married. We are close friends.” Florence falsely pouts. “Secondly, Taehyung has more talent and grace in his pinky finger than you have in your entire body and then some. So, I suggest you shut that trap of yours before you wake up and find every single one of your father’s department stores foreclosed.” Florence’s face was the perfect cross of fear and royal anger. With that, Hwasa straightens her spine and stands up. “If you are confused about what I said, I hope you figure it out because I won’t be repeating myself.” Her red-painted lips are set in a deep frown, most of her rage having left her. She heads for the door, her shoes clacking loudly from her firm steps on the marble floor. Most of the women in the room have paused their games to watch her leave, some even going as far to disapprove of her sour attitude.

“Poor Hwasa. She’ll die an old maid if she keeps that attitude.” Florence remarks with unrestrained smugness. You are ready to slap her into next week for her treatment of your best friend. It’s time she gets a reality check.

“I don’t think you should be wasting your time worrying about the wrong person,” you say coolly.

She scoffs, “Is that right, y/n? If I shouldn’t be worrying about Hwasa, who should I be worried about?”

“Yourself, obviously. I forgot that you can’t put two and two together. I’ll remember next time to spell it out directly for you.”

“Get to the point,” she hisses.

You lay your cards down and fold your hands neatly on the table. “My point is you’re not marrying Jimin. Not in the spring, not in the year, not in your lifetime.” Florence’s face nearly matches her hair color. “In fact, I dare say Jimin doesn’t even know that you are planning to ask him for his hand.”

“I won’t be the one asking, you stupid girl. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll be begging me to marry him.”

You force a smile. “If you insist. I’ll just give him a fair warning about his eminent doom tomorrow during our picnic date.” Florence’s expression twists into surprise. “Oh, and while we’re on the topic of you, I’ll mention how I accidently walked in on you and—what was his name?” You tap a finger thoughtfully to your chin. “John Withers!” You snap your fingers. “You two were in quite the predicament at his sister’s birthday a few months ago. Petting parties and dancing tongues and all that.” Florence gapes at you like a fish, her face overtaken with terror. The other girls looked at her in shock.

Caught in a lie.

You smirk. Your work here was done. Gathering your purse, you send a wink her way before strutting out of the tea hall. You knew you had hundreds of eyes on you, including your grandmother’s. You know you’re going to owe here an explanation later. Everyone in the room probably heard what you said about you and Jimin, but you could care less. You never had such pleasure in telling someone off.

You find Hwasa standing outside in the hotel courtyard smoking a cigarette. She sees the look on your face as you approach, and she grins wickedly. “What did you do?”

“I may have called her out on her lie and mentioned me spending time with Jimin. You should have been in there. Her face was priceless.”

“That’s my girl,” she takes another drag from her cigarette. “Want one? Special edition tobacco. Tae got them for me in France.”

You consider it, eyeing the delicately arranged rolls in the silver case. “Sure. I think I’ve earned it.” Hwasa laughs, handing you a roll and helping you light it. You feel your body release all the rage and spite with each pull. As you eye the cigarette in your fingers, you can’t help but think about what was said about Hwasa and Taehyung’s relationship. They were awfully close, and you had to admit the idea of them marrying had come across your mind sometimes. You had no idea about Taehyung’s finances or career, or even that his relationship with Hwasa was enough to warrant her father’s attention. You couldn’t help but feel bad for Hwasa; however, at the same time, you knew she’d test her father’s patience to its limits. She’d refuse every single marriage he’d set until he gave up. It didn’t matter if she didn’t marry. She had an older brother who would inherit the family business and take over. You wonder if this was a part of her plan. Even if she and Taehyung didn’t marry, they would be lifelong companions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She said that?” Jimin yells over the vroom of the engine. He throws his head back and laughs. “I’ve never heard such a lie before. I was the one who first caught her and John Withers together. They were having a petting party in the back of his car during a party a few years ago.”

“Really?” You yell back, holding onto your hat. “That’s so disgusting! I’ve seen him before, and he’s so greasy looking.” You make a face of sheer disgust, making Jimin laugh even harder.

“Yeah, he is! But, y/n, are you sure she wasn’t just saying something like that to get a rouse out of you?” He inquires, one hand relaxing on the steering well as he drives. “From what you’ve told me how she acts towards you it seems that way.”

“I have no idea! I really don’t know what the whole point of that conversation was,” you laugh. “Even if she was, I don’t care. I like you a lot Jimin, and I wasn’t about to let some girl try and spread false rumors about you.” You look out the car, trying to hide your blushing cheeks.

“Y/n,” he calls you. You turned your head, looking over your sunglasses at him, with your hand resting against your cheek. You answer with a small hum. Between the road and you, he spent as much time as he could gazing at you. Despite his own pair of dark sunglasses, you could still see joy twinkling in his eyes. “I like you a lot too,” he finally says. It did nothing to slow your racing heart or help you cool down, but you didn’t care. Not with the way he could barely keep his eyes off you.

You bite you lip, barely suppressing a huge smile. You lean back in your seat, gazing up at the blue June sky. It was a perfect day for your picnic with Jimin. Not a cloud in sight. A slight breeze blowing through every now and again to relieve you of the sun’s beating rays. The tall grass fields dotted with white and yellow flowers made soft hushing sounds with the wind.

Soon, you and Jimin arrive at the place he promised was the most beautiful place in the East Isles. And it was beyond beautiful. Jimin opens your door and takes you hand to help you out of the car. He was pleased to see your expression of awe as you took in the scene in front of you.

Flowers of all colors poke through the grass—a luscious green carpet—and lead to a small, crystal clear river. The water flows gently after soft brown rocks and into a pond at the end. Birds chirp, some of them chasing each other in the air before perching on the delicate branches of nearby trees. You think this is heaven.

Jimin grabs a large basket and blanket from the car. You seemed entranced by the scenery, and he giggles at your reaction. He slides his fingers down the back of your hand, breaking you from your trance, and threads them with yours. He leads you further into the grass to a perfect spot partially shaded by foliage. He expertly unfolds a thick blanket onto the grass and unpacks the basket, pulling out plates of all your favorite foods and wine. You kick off your shoes and sit down on the blanket, fixing your skirt to neatly cover your legs.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to eat, so I just had everything made that I know you like,” he smiles sheepishly.

“You must have been taking notes after our meals.”

“That and I feel like I know you well enough that if I had to guess out of these foods is your favorite I could.”

“Really?” You challenge, chewing on some grapes. “Which one then?”

“The cheese Danish,” he states without hesitation.

“Nothing else?”

“No, just the pastry itself. Even if you were in a new place with the most fantastic patisseries in the world, you would always go with a cheese Danish.” He replies with such confidence. He knew you so well.

You smile in delight. “I see your mind-reading skills have improved Park Jimin,” you tease, grabbing the cheese Danish from its plate and taking a huge bite out of it. Jimin laughs at your expression when some of cheese falls out of the pastry due to your aggressive eating and you try to catch it. He hands you a cloth napkin to wipe your hands.

“You’re going to spoil lunch!” he joked. “I have proper lunch dishes to eat before dessert. Glazed salmon with a spring mix salad and raspberry walnut dressing?” he offers.

“Yes please,” you grab the plate excitedly, your mouth watering at the sight of such a delicious looking lunch. You and Jimin eat through the first dish with ease, both admitting to each other that you each had skipped breakfast this morning in order to eat lots of food during your picnic. Then, you finally got to eat your cheese Danish, savoring every bite. After your stomachs were nearly full, you both drank wine, nibbling on an assortment of grapes, cheese and buttery crackers. You and he moved to the bank of the river, letting the water move soothingly over your feet. Conversation flowed with ease, discussing literally about everything that popped into your mind or led from one topic to another. Somehow you had gotten from topics like how you had a green thumb as a child and how you would be upset every time the birds ate the seeds you freshly planted to Jimin helping a man fix his car when in broke in the middle of downtown the other day. The man offered Jimin to take one of the puppies his dog gave birth too recently as a thank you.

“And you didn’t pick one?” You ask, surprised.

He laughs. “No, I said I didn’t need a puppy.”

“What about me? I wanted a puppy,” you deadpan.

Jimin’s face morphs into bewilderment. “You’ve never said to me that you wanted a puppy!”

You giggle at his reaction, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m teasing you, Jimin. I don’t expect you to think of me all the time.”

“But I do think about you all time. I should have picked one.” He rubs a hand over his face in frustration and regret.

“Jimin, it’s okay! I was only giving you a hard time.” You push his hand out of the way from his face and gently brush away the hair that had fallen into his eyes.

He watches your face as you focus on fixing his hair. Then his eyes slide to the hat on your head. He hates how you covered your hair with that ridiculous accessory. He knew about your voluminous curls that were pinned and restrained to the current trend. It made him unhappy.

He pulls your hat from your head and tossed away somewhere in the grass. “Jimin, what are you…” you trail off as he begins to pull the pins from under your hair. Somehow, he knew where each one was, as if he’d done it a million times.

As he removes each pin and your hair falls over your shoulders, he keeps his eyes on your face, gazing into the mesmerizing dark caramel color of your eyes. A blush paints your cheekbones. Slowly, you become your real self—the one that Jimin knew so well, but you had forgotten about.

When the last pin was removed, Jimin smiled lovingly at you. “I like your hair down. You shouldn’t wear it up so much. I love your curly hair. It kind of reminds me of one of the puppies I saw.”

“It had soft curly hair like mine?”

“Yes. The man said they were called Lagotto Romagnolo dogs. Ironically, they’re an Italian breed, but I only found that out after I said to the man, they sounded like a type of pasta dish.” Jimin explains, and you laugh softly. Comfortable silence fell upon the atmosphere. The sun warms your back, and the trickle of the river soothes you into an almost sleepy state. You turn your head and lay it on Jimin’s shoulder.

You sit there like that for several minutes, watching nature go about its day, sipping on your wine. Your wine glass then becomes empty, and you say as much. Jimin said he would get you some more, gently laying a kiss against your hair. Any relaxation you felt from the wine dissipates and your nerves spark. You lift your head up, and Jimin swoops in for a kiss on the cheek. He smiles cleverly, grabbing your wine glass from your hand before getting up to fill it with more wine. You couldn’t help tracking him with your gaze. From your sitting position, you finally get a good view of his body, particularly his backside. It’s a nice backside, you thought to yourself. As if he felt your eyes on him, he glances over his shoulder and totally catches you checking him out. He winks at you, and you shyly shift your gaze to the river.

Suddenly, your head feels so fuzzy. Your mind drifts, like you’re falling into a dream. You rub the heel of your palm against your temple, squeezing your eyes shut. When the sensation passes, you open them again, gazing back into the water.

Then, a dream comes to you, and it’s such a vivid dream.

You and Jimin are in the river, splashing water at each other. He wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you to his naked chest, he spins you in circles in the water.

The sensation in your head turns into a pounding, and you gasp at the pain. You lay your hand against your forehead, your skin feeling hot. You feel your pulse beating against the side of your neck. You twist in your seat, craning to see Jimin. He’s putting the cork back in the bottle. He looks up and smiles sweetly at you.

Another dream flashes before your eyes. You see the bodies of a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace, kissing and holding tightly to each other. Underneath the woman is a familiar blanket and patch of wildflowers.

Then, it’s gone and so it the pain. Jimin’s face with creased with concern. He jogs over, abandoning the wine glasses. He kneels in front of you. “Y/n, what’s wrong? You look hurt.” He searches your face, your arms, your legs, your torso. But he finds nothing wrong with you.

That was because nothing was wrong.

You were remembering. Everything.

You pull Jimin in for a kiss, and your world bursts into a kaleidoscope of memories.

All of them were so vivid.

Your parents. How your father’s electrical business took flight. The money and the new lifestyle that came with it. Hwasa and the dance clubs. The parties and gatherings for tea. And then Jimin—he was in most of them.

The first time you met him, almost five years ago, similar to the situation months age when you “first met” him at his estate, being presented as new money. Except he never looked away from you when you walked in the room. He looked at you with the gleam in his eye like he does now, as if he’d fallen in love with you right then. And you too had found it difficult to look away. He was so handsome. Dressed in a black suit, with the pants so perfectly fitted that it made his legs look unbelievably long. His hair was styled to expose his beautiful face to the world. It was much darker back then, making his blue-gray eyes even more striking.

You had met him every chance you got. You were both inseparable. He was always so polite and sweet. Then, one night he confessed to you under the moonlight at the architectural park downtown and gave you the best kiss of your life. You secretly met up for picnics and boat rides, soaking in the luxurious things in life together, making happy memories. And you fell deeply in love. You had even gone to this place—the meadow with the crystal river. Jimin insisted taking a swim, immediately stripping down. You were worried someone might catch you, but he owned this land and assured you that no one would disturb you two. You looked away when he removed all his clothes before entering the water, and you insisted Jimin do the same. And he did. You remember the exhilaration thrumming in your bones when you removed the last of your undergarments. Never in your life had you imagined that you would be walking in a meadow and swimming in a river stark naked, much less in front of a man you weren’t married too.

When you got in the water, it was chilly, and you had said as much. Jimin had offered to warm you with a suggestive smirk. You had felt boneless at the thought but decided to tease him instead. You smiled mischievously before splashing him with water. Thus, a water battle ensued, and he ended up capturing you in his arms and tickled you to death. After admitting that you teased him on purpose, he finally stopped tickling you and insisted he just hold you in the water. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you rested your head on his solid chest. He pulled you around the pond, humming and laying the occasional kiss on your head. You complained that you were getting too cold and hopped out of the water onto the picnic blanket.

You flopped down on your back, smiling up at the sky. Jimin laid down next to you on his side, head propped up on his hand so he could look at you. Water droplets fell from the ends of his dark wet hair and collected on his skin. You turned your head towards him and offered a soft smile. You reached your hand closest to him and brushed it soothingly on his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes, which were slowly taking in your body. His eyes had grown darker with passion each passing second. Eyes locked on yours, he placed his hand over your heart, feeling the fast racing of it. Jimin saw your expression change, more reflective of his. “Jimin.” Your hand moved to his full lips, stroking the bottom one with the pad of your finger. “Please.” He leaned forward, kissing you passionately. Jimin conveyed his love with every touch.

Your one and only true love.

You feel your soul rush back into your present body, pulling away from Jimin. You were breathless and panting. His eyebrows are scrunched together in worry, eyes bright with fear “Jimin, I remember. I remember everything,” you rush out.

A million emotions flash across his face—happiness, sadness, confusion, fear, joy, pain, relief, but love outshines all of them. Tears form in his eyes that quickly fall down his cheeks. You feel your own tears on your face.

He cups your face in his bands, thumbs wiping away the tears. “What are you feeling? Tell me.” He speaks so softly, and it breaks your heart.

“Everything. I remember everything that I couldn’t from when my father’s company succeeded until now. I can’t explain it. I remembered things. I didn’t feel like I had any gaps in my memory before. It’s like I couldn’t remember that I was missing memories of you, my parents and my friends.

“I… I didn’t just fall down the steps, did I?” You ask. He shakes his head gravely. “I was in a car accident.” And as you explain the details, you see it clearly in your mind’s eye.

You were driving home with parents after a weekend getaway to the coast. Your dad was stressed and needed to get out of the city. After the weekend was over, you were riding in the car with your parents back into the city. Your dad was driving the car over the bridge when another car smashed into your family’s vehicle. Everything happened so quickly, you don’t remember seeing your parents. All you remember was falling so far, so fast and then hitting the ground before blacking out. Then, you woke up in the hospital with your grandmother by your side surrounded by doctors.

“My parents died that night, didn’t they?” Your voice cracks with the question.

Jimin frowns deeply. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“I already knew they were dead, but not how they died or when.” Then, you see their faces in your mind. “Mom… Dad…” you sob, covering your mouth to prevent from crying out. The full force of the loss hits you. Jimin quickly situates you into his hold, grounding you while you grieve for your parents.

You remember the family meals and time you spent together; the happiness on dad’s face when the business took off; the times when your parents got on your nerves, and now you wish you hadn’t argued with them so harshly; all the times you had mom-daughter and dad-daughter conversations. It all ended too soon.

You’re not sure how long you cried before you finally calmed down. Jimin was rocking you gently, cheek against the top of your head. The sun had started to go down. Jimin finally speaks, his voice forlorn.

“I went and saw you in the hospital. I heard what happened the next day. I hadn’t seen or heard from you. I called your house so many times, but no one answered. So, I went over there, and your staff had gotten a call from the police. They said your parents had died in the crash. I grieved for them.

“But you had managed to survive. Somehow by some miracle, you landed on a wooden platform not too far below the bridge. I thought they were going to say you fell in the icy water and that they wouldn’t find you. They took you to hospital, and you were unconscious.

“I visited you every day. I brought you your favorite flowers. I held your hand and told you everything I loved about you. And that I wanted you to wake up so badly so I can hear your voice and fully convince myself that you were still here. You didn’t wake up for almost a month. When you did, I was on my way to see you. I heard your voice from down the hallway. I was so excited. Finally, I could hear your voice again and kiss you. But, as I got to the door, the doctors had been explaining your condition to your grandmother.

“You suffered a serious brain injury and had amnesia. They assessed you couldn’t remember what happened in the last two or three years with other long-term memories having been forgotten. They found you could no longer associate emotions with most of your memories anymore. After the doctors left, you had already fallen back asleep. Your grandmother saw me and stopped me at the door. She knew that I had heard everything, and she insisted that I stop visiting. You hadn’t asked for me, and that based on the doctor’s evaluation, it was unlikely you remembered me at all. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I should have been in there, trying to help you remember, but your grandmother forbade it. And, in the end, she was right.

“You had just gone through so much, a lot of it you didn’t remember. You didn’t need me, someone you would have thought was a stranger, to come in and try to convince you that we were in love. It wouldn’t have brought you back. I wanted you to love me, not because I told you, you did, but because you do. I wanted to give you the chance to discover love again. Whether it was with me or not.

“It killed me to see you walk into my house again, several months after the accident, and reintroduce yourself and everyone pretend as if they didn’t know what a wonderful person you are. That day a couple months ago, when I had seen you… It was like seeing you again for the very first time. Then I was reminded I had lost you, but you were still here, not knowing that you still had me in the palm of your hand.” He softly circles his fingertips on your palm. “Besides,” he smiles ruefully, “what would you have done if I came up to you and said I was your fiancé?”

You hiccup from your tears, “Fiancé?”

Jimin swallows thickly, nodding. “Yes. I had proposed to you that Christmas. We were in the sitting room in front of the tree. We were just sitting there. You were looking at the candles and ornaments on the tree, commenting how pretty they were and that you’d want Christmas to be this beautiful and peaceful in your own house one day. When you said that, it made the ring that I had kept in my pocket for weeks feel heavier, and my heart was racing so fast I thought you would have thought something was wrong. But nothing was wrong. I was with the most beautiful, kind, intelligent woman in the world, and I wanted nothing more than to be in the future she was talking about. So, I got down on one knee and asked you, y/n y/l/n, to marry me—to allow me the honor of cherishing you every single day until our last.”

“And I said, ‘Yes, I will marry you.’” You sob, but it’s happy tears.

“And I kissed you and told you I would never leave your side ever, no matter what came our way. I guess I just hadn’t imagined that, that something would come so quick and with so much loss.”

You looked deep into his eyes, soothingly caressing the side of his face. “I’m here now Jimin. And I promise I’ll never leave you again.” You had forgotten the most beautiful moments in life—your memories of your parents, Hwasa, and Jimin—but you didn’t know that you had. And ever so slowly, Jimin was bringing you back to him.

However, despite your promising words, he was holding back something. He got choked up again, fresh tears shining in his eyes. He let out a shuttering breath, “Y/n, there’s something else about those months leading up to the accident.”

You trembled, anxiety lighting every nerve. “What is it?”

He covered your hand on his face with his and wiped at his eyes with his other hand. It took him a few moments to gather himself to say it, and it came as a shock—

“You were pregnant.”

Your world stilled and began to spin. “I was pregnant…” You repeat it quietly to yourself. Your mind spun into the kaleidoscope of memories again. You remember you hadn’t asked for your napkins at the beginning of the new year. You remember telling your mom about your missed cycles and explaining to her that you and Jimin had already been together before. You hadn’t told Jimin yet because you didn’t want to tell him until you saw a doctor and said it was official. And you and she were going to tell your father about it, but he was so stressed when he got home. That was the Friday of the weekend getaway. You both decided that you would tell him together when you got back home on Sunday you when he was in a better mood. Except that never happened.

“The doctor had said you were 12 weeks along. It made sense. After I proposed to you that night, we made love, but we decided not to use protection that time. I was so excited I didn’t think to ask if you were taking a contraceptive medicine. I assumed you were, so I didn’t think about it. You didn’t even show at all during those 12 weeks. The only way the doctors found out was because you miscarried. The trauma from the accident was too much for your body, so the baby…” Jimin couldn’t say it, breaking down into sobs. It was still too much for him to talk about.

And for you. You began to cry as well. “I’m sorry, Jimin that I couldn’t protect our baby.”

Jimin hushed you immediately, looking deep into your eyes. “This wasn’t your fault, y/n. You have to know that and believe that. I would never blame you for what happened. I’m not upset that you didn’t tell me because you weren’t ready to yet. And that’s okay. I mourn our son or daughter every day, and I still love them as much as when I found out they had existed and as if they were here.”

You cried for the loss of your parents and the pain your grandmother felt of losing her son and daughter-in-law. You cried for your unborn baby. You cried for Jimin, who had to hold in everything he knew and felt so you could figure out who you were again. He could have told you he was your fiancé but didn’t because he wanted you to love him and accept his love without controlling your heart.

“I know we’ll never be the same people before the car crash, but that doesn’t matter. I would go to the ends of the Earth for you, y/n. And if that meant we would have to start over and fall in love all over again, I would do it a million and ten times more. I was reminded of things about you that I had forgotten that I shouldn’t have and the little things in the experiences that we have together that made me love you all the more. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jimin. Even when I couldn’t remember anything, I was falling in love with you.” He kisses you passionately, quickly muttering about he waited so long to hear you say those words again. Your faces are warm and wet with tears. You each kiss them away on the other’s face until they are gone. “I don’t have enough words to describe how incredibly patient and loving you are with me. You didn’t deserve to go through all of this.”

“Neither did you. We just know now that our love has conquered all. It has transcended tragedy, doubt, heartbreak and stolen memories. You’re mine, and I’m yours; and I’m never letting you go again.” You kiss each other sweetly, the pain of the past melting away with each press of your lips. Neither him nor you were sure how long you stayed perched in his lap just brushing kisses across each other’s lips and whispering promises.

“You know,” you start, brushing his hair from his eyes, “there’s no way I’m letting you leave me tonight to go to your too-far away house. You’re going to go to sleep with me in my bed tonight, and the night after, and the night after, and—”

He interrupts you with a laugh, his eyes squishing into cute crescent moons. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After quickly shoving the picnic basket and blanket into the car, you and Jimin drove to house. It was nearly 9 o’clock at night. You had been gone practically the entire day. You wondered if your grandmother was worried.

Thankfully, when you tiptoe through the house, your hand holding Jimin’s, the only person you encounter is Hwasa, who had been staying with you the past couple days ever since she got in a fight with her parents. She sees your intertwined hands and says, “Finally you two confessed your feelings. I was concerned I was going to lose my bet with Tae. Although, y/n, I would keep the noise level down, your grandmother is sleeping—”

You didn’t even give her the chance to finish before you pull her into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you, Hwasa. For being the greatest friend ever.” Hwasa returns the hug. She looks over your shoulder at Jimin, who simply winks at her. Even in the dark of the night, you and Jimin appeared radiant. “We have so much to talk about, Hwasa. But let’s do it tomorrow morning over breakfast.”

She beams at you, finally understanding what was going on. “I’ll be up bright and early. You two get some sleep, and I’ll phone Tae in the morning to bring some extra clothes for your guest. Goodnight, you two.” She exits the corridor, her silk kimono floating behind her like an extra shadow.

Once in your room, you and Jimin collapse on your bed. The only sound was the delicate chorus chirped by the crickets out in the garden by your window. You gaze at each other, listening to the other’s breathing, until you both fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jimin meet your grandmother and Hwasa in the seating room the next morning. Taehyung had stopped by briefly to drop off Jimin’s clothes. He said he gave the excuse to his parents that Jimin was stayed the night at his house after a much-too-fun game of pool. The staff had laid out extra breakfast and tea per your grandmother’s request. There was a lot that needed to be said before life could move forward.

Your grandmother and Hwasa explain the whole point of the plan they had set when it was discovered you had amnesia. It was very similar to why Jimin agreed to go along with it. It was to let you rediscover yourself and grow into a new person that fit the life that you knew. Nothing would have been more miserable than being told who you were and what you had to do. It was difficult getting the community around you to agree to it, but in the end, most felt awful about the terrible ordeal you’d been through. Everyone loved your parents, who were honest and hardworking, so they decided that if pretending to meet you again for the first time was the best way to help you recover it would be so. Thus, began your new journey.

You talk through the difficulties you had. The emptiness and loss of emotion that came with the “gap” memories your brain had created to lessen the trauma. This world hadn’t felt real to you in most aspects until you had more interaction with your best friends and lover. Even though your head had forgotten your memories with them, your heart had known them. And you were so grateful you had Hwasa, Jimin and Taehyung to anchor you back. You can’t say that you desperately wish to turn back the clock to change the events that happened. Firstly, that would be futile and a waste of energy. Second, although your parents have passed on from this world and entered paradise, you know you will see them again someday. You’re happy that your memories came back and you have those to remember them by.

This whole journey has only grown your love and appreciation for every moment and person in your life.

After many hugs and tears with Hwasa and your grandmother, Jimin politely asks if he could have a moment alone with you. Hwasa walks arm-in-arm with her out of the room, beginning to chat away about Paris. Before leaving, Hwasa looks over her shoulder and smiles at you both. You smile back at her, pink coloring your cheeks.

Jimin stands from his chair and holds his hand out to you. You take it, him helping you to your feet. He gazes at you, seeming focused and determined. You grow a little shy, and giggle. “Quite the morning, right? Probably one of the most eventful breakfasts in my life.”

“Yes, I think so too,” he states, but sounding only half-present. He’s engrossed in memorizing the features of your face, and the brightness that is radiating from you after just rediscovering who you were. He thinks that you only get more beautiful with each passing day.

He presses a kiss to your cheek with plush lips, the softness of it drawing a light gasp from you. His lips move closer to your’s, pressing another kiss to your cheek, but firmer this time. His steady hands come up to hold your waist. You tilt your head towards his, your lips brushing his as they come in for a third kiss. You’ll never get used to this. The passion with which Jimin shows you, even with the most delicate of touches. Your hands slide from his shoulders to around his neck, pulling him closer.

When Jimin breaks the kiss, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you as close as he can. You lay your hand against his, fingers gently stroking through his hair in comfort. It occurs to you for a second that he might not believe that you’re really here, that you remember everything about your love for him. “Jimin, I promise I’ll never go far away again. I’ll stay so close by your side you’ll start to think you’ve got a second shadow.” You whisper to him. He chuckles against your neck. You feel him relax against you, his weight growing heavier in your arms. Then, he’s letting go of you, sinking to the ground.

To get on one knee.

“I know you won’t, y/n. And I promise I won’t be the only one who thinks they have a second shadow.” He smiles at you endearingly.

You laugh at the turn-around of the joke, but you feel hot tears already prickling at your eyes. Happy tears.

“You’ve already heard most of what I’ve wanted to say for so long, so I’ll keep it short and get to what I’ve really wanted to do since you came back into my life. Y/n… Life had thrown us a huge curveball, but we made it out on the other side. Never did I imagine that when I met you again that I would mess up so badly,” he tells you, and you laugh at the memory. “I was just so in love with you, and I didn’t know how to act around you without wanting to convey my love. And then, you called me rude and refused dinner, and even though you were made, you were so beautiful when you were. Of course, that didn’t help me get my thoughts straight because I was so head over heels for you. Then, the next opportunity came to make it right, and I knew I couldn’t miss my shot to be around you again. I’m so glad I didn’t because I know you’re the only person in this entire world that makes me feel the way you do. And, if you’ll allow me again to honor and cherish you for the rest of eternity…”

He reaches into his pocket to pull out a velvet box, not once taking his eyes off of you. Jimin opens the lid to reveal the diamond ring that once made a home on your left hand. Details of his first proposal to you rush in for a moment. Between that memory and the present, Jimin still looks very nervous, albeit in an endearing way, but wears all of his love for you on his sleeve.

“Will you marry me, y/n?” The tears finally escape his eyes as he asks you for the second time, one of the most beautiful questions in life.

“Yes, Jimin. Always.” You sink to your knees in front of him, hands reaching to pull Jimin in for a passionate kiss. He wraps you against him tightly, dropping the velvet box to the floor. You both kiss for what seems like forever between the two of you until you hear a very Hwasa-like cheer from outside the door. You and Jimin, pull away laughing.

He takes the ring out of the box and slips it on your engagement finger. He marvels at it, “You make this ring ten times more radiant,” he grins cutely, earning another laugh from you. “I’m serious! When I was picking one out, I was concerned that I’d never find one that matched your bright spirit, and then I realized that it was impossible. No diamond or gem will ever shine brighter than you.” He lovingly pinches your cheek.

You pinch his in return. “You’re so cheesy. I love it,” you smile at him and kiss him again. “Let’s get married next week. I don’t want to wait too long. I think we’ve done enough waiting.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I’ve already got the best place in mind for our honeymoon.”

��Really? Where’s that?”

He smiles knowingly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are married on the following Tuesday, only five days after Jimin’s proposal. The news of your marriage had hit the papers the next day, thanks to the Parks who were finally happy to see him finally getting married. Between Mrs. Park and your grandmother, everything from flowers to food and cake to wedding favors was planned to perfection. Hwasa called in every favor from the best dress designers in the city to create the most beautiful gown imaginable. It was very necessary, she explained when you had said you only needed a simple gown. And she was right. Because when you walked out of the church on Jimin’s arm on that bright sunny day in June, you looked like royalty in the photos. Many citizens in the city were excited to finally see a big wedding happen again. They cheered and tossed flower petals when you and Jimin descended the church steps to head to the car for reception.

The next morning, you and Jimin left home together when the sun rose for your honeymoon. You briefly rode to the airport, where you and Jimin boarded a small plane. You asked him repeatedly where he was taking you, but he would simply grin and kiss your hand. He was probably much more excited than you, if that was even possible. You felt as if you’d been on a high for the past week since the proposal. Life couldn’t have been any better.

But, of course, it got even better.

When Jimin said you both had finally arrived, you are pleasantly surprised.

Santa Bella Island.

You’d heard about it before from friends and family. Crystal clear, blue waters with warm, white sand speckled with seashells. Pleasant summer weather that was a tad hot during the peak of the day but left a gentle breeze by the time the sun fell in a cascade of pinks, oranges, and purples. The sunrises were even better.

You stood against the threshold of your private villa, drinking in the morning sun as it started to peek from the ocean’s horizon. You sipped quietly on a cup of tea, letting the sun’s early rays warm your skin. Jimin was still sleeping on the bed, body wrapped around the sheets, which were sufficiently wrinkled from last night’s late activities. You giggled to yourself, fingering the silk of your robe.

It was so perfectly peaceful here. Birds chirped happily as they began their morning songs. The waves lapped softly on the sand. The palm trees swayed with ease. Jimin was snoring softly on the bed, his cheek squished against the pillow and lips parted. You couldn’t believe that you get a whole month of this with your husband.

Husband. You smile to yourself. That will never get old. It brings warmth to your cheeks every time you think about it. You murmur the word to yourself, testing out how it rolls off your tongue. It was so strange to say, yet it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your husband must have heard you. Caught up in the sunrise, you’d only heard soft footfalls against the wood floor that signaled Jimin’s wakefulness. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back to rest against his bare chest. His head rests on your shoulder, tilted to nuzzle against the side of your neck. “Good morning, my lovely wife,” and he places small kisses along there.

“Good morning, my darling husband. Did you sleep well?” Your free hand comes up to stroke his hair.

“I did,” he murmurs against your hair. He reaches over your shoulder to take the cup from you and set it on the table. He wraps both arms around your waist from behind you, fingers massaging your skin through the silk of the robe. “Although, I was hoping I would get the chance to wake you up in a very husband-like kind of way,” he says coyly. You giggle, biting your lip. You hold your left hand closer to your face.

The two white diamond rings—for your engagement and wedding—glitter perfectly in the morning sun. You marvel at the striking beauty of them.

“My forever is with you y/n.” Your husband whispers in your ear.

“You’re my forever Jimin.”

#bts #bts fanfction #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin x reader #taehyung #hwasa #the great gatsby #1920s #jimin fluff #jimin angst

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mathiaskillmaster · 5 years

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Rebirth of the Dragon (After GOT / Daenerys Targaryen) Part 14

Essos, Volantis

Another week had passed. After swearing his oath to the Queen of Dragons, Cade had returned to the Golden Company's encampment to announce the news to his men. Daenerys came in person with him, accompanied by Yara, Grey Worm, and Shen-zoan. She had to be present in order to leave a choice to the former mercenaries: join her or not. She promised them that no harm would be done to them if they refused to join the Order of the Golden Dragons, but in return they should not become obstacles to her. Among the 500 men of Cade, 300 accepted the offer and joined Cade to form the new order of knights created by Daenerys. The 200 remaining men were able to leave, as she had promised, abandoning once and for all their status as mercenaries of the now extinct Golden Company.

With the allegiance of the captain Cade and his 300 men, Daenerys also obtained the 10 war elephants, magnificent and powerful creatures with their own combat armors, which, according to Cade, could only be ridden by the most experienced men of the Company. Fortunately, 10 of the men who had sworn allegiance to all the remaining ones proved to be able to control the elephants. With this heavy cavalry, Daenerys knew that the power of her new army was again increased tenfold, reinforcing her determination to march against the slave empire and free Slaver's Bay again.

Unfortunately, with all the hardships since her return, Daenerys was more and more stressed, almost unable to sleep on certain nights, and still had some nightmares. It was Shen-zoan who humbly offered a cure from his country, Yi Ti, and Daenerys accepted, trusting her friend.

For this, Daenerys was now in a quiet little room of the temple, away from the places of rites so that absolute silence reigns. Having taken off her clothes, wearing only a white towel around her breasts and another to hide her crotch, Daenerys sits on a small wooden table, while Shen-zoan, standing in front of a small desk, took care of open a box taken in his travel bag and containing very small and thin needles. Daenerys shuddered a little as he saw them, raising an eyebrow. Seeing her cautious in front of the needles, Shen-zoan smiled and reassured her.

_ "Do not worry, majesty, it does not hurt."

_ "How do you name this .... special medicine?" asked the young queen.

_ "Acupuncture if I remember, but I think they decided to change the name."

_ "And, what will that do to me?"

_ "Let's say ...." Shen explained, "by punctuating certain specific places of the body, it is possible to realign the energies that compose us, in order to bring back a semblance of balance and harmony in our body. After all you've been through, majesty, I think it can only do you good."

It seemed almost like a kind of mystical rite in Dany's ears, but once again she trusted Shen, who more than once had proved his worth and devotion to her. He never stopped to surprise her. She watched him sometimes wander about his business. Yara, too, talking to Daenerys, sometimes said that Shen spent a lot of time contemplating the landscapes around him, sitting for hours without talking or moving. He was fond of drawing, writing, playing a flute he had brought with him from his country and which formerly belonged to his late master, as well as smoking a grass with a strong but pleasant odor in a wooden pipe.

She had also seen him training a few times, practicing alone this particular and fascinating art of combat, fast movements and incredible precision. She also understood why he was nicknamed "Windwalker" because indeed, the air around him seemed to accompany him and dance around him in his combat movements.

As indicated by the man of Yi Ti, Daenerys lay on her stomach, her bare back lit by the orange glow of the candles lighting the room. Shen first stepped forward, smearing her hands with a lotion of sweet almond scent that nicely caressed Daenerys' nostrils.

_ "A special oil from my country, specially made to increase the efficiency of the circulation of energies in the body during the process ..... Can I, majesty?" he asked again, very humbly. She looked at him and nodded. From the flat of his palms, Shen began to apply the oil to the soft skin of the queen's back. The sudden freshness of the oil made her shudder, but not in an unpleasant way. She also felt the muscles in her back relax slowly. Daenerys, out of the corner of his eye, watched Shen. The man was very concentrated in his task, not allowing himself to be disturbed for a single second by the vision of the half-naked body of the queen. Daenerys admired that also from Shen. His restraint and respect towards women's bodies. She wondered sometimes if he did not prefer men? Or maybe he loved both men and women? Where, then, had his particular teaching in this art of meditation and combat raised him above all this? Did he no longer feel the need for the pleasure of the flesh? So many questions....

_ "Tell me, Shen ...." Daenerys suddenly asked "... now that I remember it, during our meeting, you didn't show any surprise when you saw Drogon."

Shen smiled as he continued to massage the queen's back with the oil and answered with great candor.

_ "If dragons are often described as ferocious and destructive beasts, where I come from, they are seen as spirits with great powers, guardians of nature, both benevolent and capricious. Some of them can bring the moon and the night, others good weather and sun, perpetuating the cycles of days and seasons.... "

_ "Are there any dragons in Yi Ti?" asked Daenerys, her irises shining of a nascent fascination.

_ "I can not say, majesty, I have never seen ..... but some say they heard their singings resound beyond the Mountains of the Morn, in the lands of the far east of Yi Ti. Some even say they have seen them .... tall, majestic, wingless but floating in the air ... their long, slender bodies like snakes dancing over the peaks in the twilight, their scales shining like jade and reflecting the light of the sun and the moon .... "

While listening to this most fascinating story, like a tale, Daenerys set eyes on the little throbbing flame of a candle sitting in front of her, seeing almost the dancing silhouettes of Yi Ti's dragons, hearing almost the distant echoes of their songs in their ears .... Daenerys felt nothing around her, seeing only the candle, the flame forming almost the peaks of the distant mountains of the lands of Yi Ti, the distant and graceful forms great spinning and dancing dragons under the midnight moon ....

Shen-zoan after properly applying the oil, then began to implant the first needle in the back of Daenerys, who does not even react, feeling no pain.

_ "Tell me about Yi Ti, Shen ....." Daenerys said, being all ears and eager to hear more about this legendary but little-known country from the rest of the world. Shen smiled to see the dragon queen's curiosity and was happy to tell her.

_ "A long long time ago, The Maiden Made of Light and the Lion of Night gave birth to an only son, the God-on-Earth, who founded the Great Empire of the Dawn and thus becoming the first god emperor. The empire stretched from the Bones Mountains to the Gray Waster, from the Jade Sea to the Shivering Sea, and the Emperor was traveling in a large palanquin, carved from a single pearl, and carried by one hundred women, the hundred queens of the god emperor."

One hundred queens for one sovereign? Daenerys was more than surprised.

_ "The emperor reigned thus for ten thousand years ...." continued Shen-zoan "... before going to join his ancestors among the stars, and thus leaving his place to his eldest son, the Pearl Emperor, who succeeded him as the new ruler of Yi Ti."

Daenerys listened without losing a word, more than fascinated by what she listened to as Shen continued to place the needles, one by one, with delicacy and precision. A sovereign revered as a god, described as the child of a couple of deities and having reigned supreme for several millennia ..... It seemed too mystical to be true, but after all that she had seen in her life, and having herself been plunged into fire without suffering the least injury, brought back to life by the will of a god of flames and light, the boundary between the world of mortals and that of the magic had become more and more thin ....

_ "I'd like to visit Yi Ti someday ..." Daenerys said softly, feeling the relaxing effects slowly invading his body. Shen understood the young woman's desire, but suddenly seemed less smiling, as if remembering much less happy things.

_ "I'm afraid it's impossible, majesty ..." he said, almost apologetically for having to say "... our country was once a powerful and prosperous empire, but that time is now over ... Today, Yi Ti is nothing more than a war-torn land, divided into several kingdoms, each emperor wanting to establish his dominion over the others, creating even more conflicts...."

Daenerys was sorry for Shen on hearing this. Seeing that the subject had plunged Shen into darker thoughts, she chose not to say anything anymore, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable and let him continue his medicinal treatment.

********** That night, in the temple of Volantis now plunged into the utmost silence, Daenerys found herself somewhere again, in a place that seemed to her both unknown and familiar.

Dressed in her elegant and light white silk night dress fluttering in the breeze, Daenerys walked in the midst of an infinite field of grass and wild flowers rocked by the wind, under a clear sky without any cloudy presence. She felt good, light, as if freed from a huge weight on her shoulders. Stroking the stems of the grass with her fingertips while walking and feeling the sweetness of the earth beneath her bare feet, the young queen looked around her, wondering where she could be this time, this dream still appearing very real to her this time.

She then noticed, in the middle of this field, an isolated brick dwelling, very well maintained and looking more than familiar. Step by step, Daenerys felt her heart leap when she recognized the house at the red door, where she spent part of her happy childhood. This house so dear to her heart that she wanted to see again at any cost. A pleasant smell came to greet the nostrils of the young woman .... a smell also familiar ..... lemon ...... Looking to his left, she saw there the little lemon tree of her childhood, standing just under one of the windows of the house, that of her room of yore. Daenerys remembered. Every morning she would wake up early to open the window and admire the rising of the new sun while inhaling with interest the sweet smell of lemons growing on the branches. She had always loved this smell, just as she loved lemon to taste. Viserys did not care about all this, only dreaming of one day being able to reconquer the throne of the family. Daenerys, as a child, had never known all that and aspired only to lead a peaceful life. Daenerys sighed, immersed in all these memories as her palm touched the dry trunk of the tree. As she thought about it, she almost wished she had remained the innocent and dreamy girl, to stay away from all the conflicts and power games that had brought her so much suffering and led her to death. She picks a lemon on one of the lower branches, probing her skin and sniffing her scent. She wanted to eat in, to remember a little more of her happy memories ....

_ "Daenērys Targārien ....."

Daenerys froze as the echo of that disembodied voice in Upper Valyrian crossed her, wringing a shiver through her body, dropping the lemon at her feet. The wild grasses also shivered in the violent squall that suddenly arose. Daenerys turned to see anxiously the red door of the house slowly open in a loud grinding.

_ "Māzigon isse ...."

The ghostly voice came from inside and invited him in. Daenerys recognized that voice. She had heard it many times, the first was during the ritual that brought her back to life. While she was still in the arms of death, that voice had called her, pulling her out of the clutches of death. As if attracted by this voice and not being able to resist, Daenerys advanced to the red door and entered the enclosure of the house, in a room of darkness as opaque as ink. Once in, the door slammed shut behind her, making her jump, blocking any possibility of going back.

The darkness vanished and Daenerys was now standing in the middle of a totally different place and this time, plunged her into memories far more painful ... Winterfell! She was in the middle of the courtyard of the Winterfell castle, very much recognizing the place and feeling the biting snow beneath her feet this time. The beating and breathing heart growing louder and louder, Daenerys looked around her without seeing a living soul.

Winterfell was a ruin, swept by the winds from the north making crack the wood of the foundations and the snow gradually covering the buildings with its thick white coat. The only sounds heard were those of crows roosting on the rooftops and jabbering incessantly. Daenerys wanted to take a step, and felt under her foot the texture of a fabric. Looking down, she saw a more than recognizable banner, the Stark Wolf, half buried in the snow but also slashed in half. Daenerys swallowed, contemplating this ghostly domain. What could have happened here? An icy wind enveloped her, forcing her to curl her arms around her body to protect herself, her silk dress not protecting her from the polar temperature that reigned. Quickly, she ran to take refuge inside the first building, before finishing frozen.

She came in, barring the door to keep the cold out. But turning around, she gasped in horror, paralyzed on the spot. In front of her was the great Hall of Winterfell, devastated, the tables and chairs upside down, the slabs of stone walls and soil impregnated with pool of blood .... but most of all, several bodies, nailed to the walls like butterflies in the window of a collector, and around them spirals made with bloody human limbs. Among the dead bodies, Daenerys recognized them all .... Jorah, Missandei, the head of Rhaegal, Grey Worm, Shen-zoan, Cade, Jon Snow ..... there they were, dead, disemboweled like animals, their blood having spread at their feet .....

_ "NOOOOOO! NOOOOO! NOOOOO!!" Daenerys fell on her knees before them, screaming, shedding tears and pounding the ground with her little fists. She was tired of these horror visions, of all that, she could not stand it anymore. When will the gods stop tormenting her? What an odious message did they want to tell her?

The big chimney in Winterfell's room suddenly glowed in incandescent flames, surprising Daenerys who stopped crying, staring at something in particular. In front of the fireplace, the back in front of Daenerys on a large seat, a dark figure was sitting, the fingers of his shady hands gently patting the wood of the chair. She seemed wrapped in a sort of very long coat of shadows, a raised hood hiding the head. Daenerys felt immediately crushed by that presence whose aura had suddenly invaded the room, plunging it into a great darkness and only the flames coming to bring light.

Very slowly, Daenerys went to her feet, tears drying on her cheeks and without looking away from the shadow sitting in the seat and at no time seemed to pay attention to her. Daenerys wanted to take a step towards her, but was restrained by an immense and invisible force, preventing him from approaching this person, or rather, that thing whose mere physical presence was enough to make her shudder.

_ "Konīr ao māstan naejot nyke, ñuha kivio mēre."

You have finally come to me, my chosen one. Daenerys understood what he was saying, but recognized again the voice that made her eardrums and skull shake, much closer than before and even making the walls tremble. When he spoke, the flames roared, intensifying for a few seconds. Daenerys swallowed, feeling the slightest part of her body tremble, but remained straight despite everything. She knew who he was ....

_ "You ..... you are ...... the one the red priests are calling ....." she began to say.

_ "R'hllor!!" suddenly shouted out the cavernous and inhuman voice, interrupting Daenerys, who, surprisingly, stepped back, as the flames roared like a monster trying to extricate itself from the chimney.

_ "Naenie brōzāt sia tepagon naejot nyke, yn iksan iēdrosa keskydoso, Konīr's mērī nyke ..... se ao, Mirre se ra glaestan jemagon ao naejot nyke."

Many names were given to me, but I remain the same. There is only me ..... and you. All the things that you have lived until now have led you to me.

_ "What ..... what do you want from me? Why did you choose me?" asked Daenerys, anxious to finally get an answer to this question, and who better than the master of light himself to provide this answer? But would he? Intermingling the long, thin fingers of her hands with each other, without turning away from the fire, the entity did not answer at once, seeming to evaporate in the air and reappear every second that passed.

_ "Mērī kostā keligon skoros kessa massigon Skoros ao ūndegon iksis skoros kessa sagon lo ao qringaomagon se vōljes lēda hāre kasta laesi iksis māzis, is mērī mīre qilōni kostagon iōragon is egros ázma hen perzys kostagon keligon zirȳla."

Only you can stop what will happen. What you saw there are the consequences of your failure ..... the raven with three blue eyes is coming, and only the one who can brandish the sword born of fire and ashes, can stop it.

The sword born of fire? Daenerys remembered that sword she recovered in the flames .... A vision as clear as water appeared to her like a flash before the eyes ..... she and Jon faced each other, both standing in the middle of a field of snow and ashes, and Jon staggered, his face haggard, while the blade of the sword of Daenerys had just pierced his heart, impregnating the silver blade of the weapon that was being covered by a growing, glowing flame ... Daenerys drove this vision out of her eyes and fell back, panting and trembling. The shadow and the flames in the chimney had vanished in the darkness, only the seat remained, empty, and again the heavy silence reigning as master.

Daenerys decided not to stay here for a second longer and hastened to open the door of the Great Hall, preferring to face the cold from the outside. But when she opened it, she found herself again in front of the house at the red door, under the heat and light of the great sun, among the grasses and the wild flowers. She also saw the lemon tree, unchanged, but this time, two people stood at the foot of the tree, and did not seem to notice the presence of the young woman. Daenerys, once again, remained frozen on the spot, unable to speak or even to think about what she saw.

It was she .... she saw herself there, at the foot of the lemon tree, a little older, and dressed very simply in a long azure dress and a violet fine silk shawl. And with her, sitting on her knees, a lovely little girl, with braided silver hair, and black eyes, that the second Daenerys hugged, both enjoying themselves and watching the lemons together. They were close to her, but their laughter seemed so distant, like echoes fading into the air.

Daenerys contemplated this scene seeming to come from another time or perhaps simply from her imagination. A tear flowed gently on her cheek.

The vision Daenerys then wore what was surely her daughter at arm's length, raising her to one of the branches so she could pick a ripe lemon, which she did. Around her wrist she wore a silver bracelet, shaped like a three-headed dragon. The little girl laughed, holding the fruit in her hand, but suddenly became more serious, slowly turning her attention to another direction.

The heart of the real Daenerys leapt into her chest. The little girl was staring at her. She wanted to reach out to that little girl, come and touch her ....

But Daenerys suddenly opened her eyes, pulled out of her sleep and found herself in her bed, in the middle of her room in the temple of Volantis. The night was still here. Daenerys sat under the sheets, a deep melancholy overwhelming her, her throat knotted, and felt the trace of the tear she had shed earlier on her cheek, touching her with fingertips. With her other hand, she gently touched her belly that continued slowly but surely to round. Outside, in the distance, she suddenly heard the howl of an animal to the full moon .... the howling of a wolf ....

#daenerys targaryen #queen daenerys #daenerys deserved better #r'hllor #shen-zoan #game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #resurrection #continuation #house targaryen #Team Targaryen

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warehouse13pod · 5 years

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Show Notes 105 A and B "Elements"

Hello, Agents, and welcome to the show notes!

As always, you can listen to this week’s episodes while you read along with the show notes by clicking here for 105 A and clicking here for 105 B. You can also click play on the embedded player below, if it appears for you.

I am aware that some content—embedded players, gifs, etc.—is not showing up on some versions of the post that are automatically cross-posted to Tumblr. The main issue seems to arise on Tumblr mobile. If you have issues with that, please let me know! I’m working on fixes, and I want to make this content easy to access for everyone. In the meantime, please know that you can always access any show notes directly on our website.

More important than any commentary or analysis regarding the themes in this week’s episode are the lives of the people that cultural misappropriation affects…

…so we’re putting the link to the Lenape non-profit organization that this week’s expert recommended right here at the top.

There were a whole lot of ~heavy themes~ this week.

But we were so grateful to be able to shine a light on not only general issues of cultural misappropriation but also the misrepresentation and homogenized representation of Native and Indigenous people in media, which is something that is rarely discussed or even addressed in mainstream discourse.

These show notes will address all of the issues we touched on, but don’t worry. It’s not all heavy! We still love Warehouse 13 and appreciate the lighter moments in the episode as well as the ways the episode helped to grow Pete and Myka as a team and as individual characters.

Let’s kick it off.

We started 105 A with an excerpt from the Tracks by Louise Erdrich. The excerpt is copied below. (The chapter is widely available online from many sources, so I feel comfortable posting it here also. Especially as it is for the purposes of quotation, criticism, and review.

C H A P T E R O N E

Winter 1912

Manitou-geezisohns

Little Spirit Sun

NANAPUSH

We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall. It was surprising there were so many of us left to die. For those who survived the spotted sickness from the south, our long fight west to the Nadouissioux land where we signed the treaty, and then a wind from the east, bringing exile in a storm of government papers, what descended from he north in 1912 seemed impossible.

By then, we thought disaster must surely have spent its force, that disease must have claimed all of the disaster must surely have spent its force, that disease must have claimed all of the Anishinabe that the earth could hold and bury.

But the earth is limitless. And so is luck and so were our people once. Granddaughter, you are the child of the invisible, the ones who disappeared when, along with the first bitter punishments of early winter, a new sickness swept down.

To iterate what I already said in the podcast, I highly recommend that you read Tracks. It is fascinating, important, and beautifully written. Also, from a linguistic standpoint (for those interested in such things), it often applies some elements of Ojibwe language in astounding ways to Nanapush’s English-language narrations, which creates a really refreshing and new perspective on language than one would typically find in a novel with influences from only western/European languages.

While I do recommend it as a standalone novel—and you do not need to read any of the other novels to understand it (because it is set in the earliest part of the timeline of the series)-it is part of a tetralogy of novels. Here’s more information on the novels and writings of Louise Erdrich.

Despite an embarrassing amount of time spent researching this for you, I was unable to find an electronic version of the book to share with you. But it’s worth spending money on this truly excellent novel. Here it is for purchase as a paperback. You can also download it from Audible (with or without a membership) as part of a pair of audiobooks. The other audiobook is Louise Erdrich’s Four Souls, a standalone novel.

So, why include this specific excerpt in our podcast? Well, in addition to the reasons we discussed near the end of our discussion in 105 B, we felt that the points in this excerpt were deeply relevant to the issues we brought up in our own discussion and—more importantly—the issues that our brilliant and generous expert, Dr. John Norwood, brought up.

Let’s break this down.

“We started dying before the snow,” but the rest of the paragraph goes on to describe that they didn’t all die. Nanapush’s people—the Anishinabe—survived illness, Eurocentric colonization, and American Westward expansion. It brought heavy losses, but the Anishinabe (and indeed, native cultures more broadly) continue to survive. That’s one of the things that Miranda and I agreed was among the most vital to impress upon our listeners:

Native cultures continue to exist. It is harmful to treat native cultures as if they are relics of the past.

(Note: I know I spell Anishinabe without the double-a. I went with the spelling in Tracks. If the other is preferred, please let me know)

One important way you can take this to heart is by educating yourself about what native cultures exit in or around your area.

Because I promise there are native cultures that exist around you.

Here is the Wikipedia page detailing indigenous peoples around the world that may help contextualize more specific information that is linked below.

For the United States of America…

Here is a list of federally recognized tribal nations.

For Canada…

Here is a list of Canadian First Nations and their associated languages.

For Mexico…

Here’s what info I could find on Mexico’s indigenous population as well as a thorough Wikipedia page on the subject.

Moving on to South America…

Here is a list of the indigenous people of South America.

Now for Australia and New Zealand…

Here is information on the history and modern life of the indigenous people of Australia and New Zealand.

There are also indigenous populations in Europe!

That’s a complex subject that I can’t provide a single comprehensive page for, but here is the link to the entire Wikipedia category on the topic.

Two-thirds of the worlds 370 million indigenous people live in Asia…

…but they still face widespread non-recognition and marginalization. While I couldn’t find a separate page of information detailing the indigenous groups of Asia, there is a wealth of information on the page of indigenous peoples around the world at the top of this section. And here is an article about some of the issues facing those communities.

And in Africa…

I’ve gathered a few sources of information on the indigenous cultures of Africa [Link 1, Link 2].

And of course we haven’t forgotten about Island Nations!

There are indigenous people from island nations, as well

Finally, it’s also important to note that many native cultures don’t have official federal recognition, but that does not mean that they don’t exist.

Here is a list of those (for the United States).

This is why we say it is so important to recognize that indigenous and native peoples are still here, living, surviving all around us. It is so, so vital that we do not contribute to a culture that makes them feel invisible, when clearly there are so, so many people who deserve to be seen and heard.

This week, our Writer Appreciation Corner focused on Dana Baratta. Interestingly, this episode is her only “written by” credit for Warehouse 13. However, she remained a co-executive producer on the series for seven episodes.

We talked about how having so many writers credited for story and teleplay didn’t necessarily do this particular episode of television any favors. However, we also mentioned that seeing multiple people credited for writing an episode isn’t necessarily a negative thing. We mentioned Season 7 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as it provides many examples of well-written episodes with a lot of hands involved in crafting the script.

Those episodes are:

707 "Conversations with Dead People” (written by Jane Espenson and Drew Goddard)

708 "Sleeper” (written by David Fury and Jane Espenson)

710 “Bring on the Night” (written by Marti Noxon and Douglas Petrie)

717 “Lies My Parents Told Me” (written by David Fury and Drew Goddard)

and 721 “End of Days” (written by Douglas Petrie and Jane Espenson)

Other notable episodes of the show that remain fan-favorites include (but are not limited to): 111 “Nightmares” (Story by Joss Whedon; Teleplay by David Greenwalt); 311 “Gingerbread” (Story by Thania St. John and Jane Espenson; Teleplay by Jane Espenson); and 221 “What’s My Line (Part 1)” (written by Howard Gordon and Marti Noxon).

Moral of the story? It’s tempting to think there’s too many cooks in the kitchen, but having many hands on a project is not a reliable indicator of poor quality. It’s all a matter of the writers’ ability to share a vision and work as a team.

We weren’t sure if the language in the opener was accurate (and based on the rest of the episode’s level of cultural accuracy, I highly doubt it would be), but here is some information about Lenape and Delaware languages.

Dr. Norwood also mentioned that many Algonkian tribes came from the Lenape people. There are many Algonkian tribes—among them the Ojibwe-speaking Anishinabe people featured in Tracks—but I’m unsure which amongst them are related to or descended from the Lenape. From what I am able to gather, an Algonkian tribal nation refers to those native groups and cultures that speak Algonkian languages.

When talking about the flute trills in the opening scenes of the episode, Miranda referenced that this is a common pan-Indian filmic trope about which she learned from the podcast Metis in Space—a podcast about indigenous representation in science fiction.

Shifting gears a bit…

I mentioned seeing a piece of art that I really liked sitting in a chair in Leena’s Bed and Breakfast. I tried to screenshot it for you all only to find that—as it turns out—its impossible to screenshot anything from Amazon prime on any device! If you try, you just get a big black square or rectangle saved as a picture! Thank goodness for you, dear listeners—for many reasons—but specifically at this time for coming together to solve this problem for me!

Thanks to the teamwork of @AslamChoudhury and @Zincstoat I can now tell you that the picture looks like this:

The picture is “Ophelia,” by Lyse Marion of Imagine Studio, Montreal, Canada.

Unfortunately for me and for anyone who shares my ~aesthetic~ the picture is no longer available for sale, but many other works from that artist are. Click their Etsy shop to find something that speaks to your soul.

Thanks again to @AslamChoudhury and @Zincstoat! I looked for hours to find that piece of art and couldn’t find anything. For your extraordinary retrieval of this artifact and for allowing me to catalogue it, I’m naming you Agents of the Month!

Speaking of art, Miranda references not understanding modern art and being a pre-Raphaelite type of lady. As for myself, I’m divided. I absolutely love art of all kinds and can spend hours looking at anything from antiquity through to the age of impressionism and surrealism…at which point my brain kind of breaks. I love half of modern art—especially paintings and half don’t understand it at all. I went to the MoMA once and had a great time until I was standing in a room where the lights were dimmed and there was a pole in the middle of the room with lots of heavy cannon-ball sized orbs scattered across the ground. I…did not understand what was happening. I still don’t understand what was happening. Art is vast and ever changing. It’s okay not to understand it all. If you’re interested in learning more about Modern Art, here’s some information straight from MoMA itself! And, from The Art Story, here are some terms to know.

Think that might be too much for you and you might be a Pre-Raphaelite kind of bloke? That’s chill. Here’s some information on what Pre-Raphaelite art is from the Tate Museum! Interestingly, the Tate’s first example of Pre-Raphaelite art is this painting:

This painting is also called Ophelia and is a work of Sir John Everett Millais

This is interesting not only because of the parallel to the painting from the B&B linked above, but also because of the connection to Myka that we’ll see in a future episode. This, my friends, is what we call a motif.

In the episode, Pete mentions wanting to see a Broadway show. As a theater fan myself, I can relate. If you’re one of the lucky people who can afford tickets to a Broadway show (or live close enough to wait in lines for more affordable rush tickets) here’s a list of the shows currently playing on Broadway.

In New York, Pete locks eyes with Lacell for the first time. We can’t blame ya, Pete. We also both found Lacell (or, rather, the actor who plays him) quite attractive. That actor’s name is Caleb Verzyden, and he does…not have an extensive filmography. Now, initially, Miranda and I tried researching him further to see if he was an actual Lenape person cast as a Lenape character. We were unable to find this information, but we did find something awesome, and in the episode we promised to share it with you:

Y’all, he runs a lumberjack company now!!!!! His current hobbies include cutting down trees and sitting in front of the big pile of wood while smiling and wearing a suit. Go on, Caleb. Live your best life!

That was a fun interlude, but unfortunately, it’s time to return to the rather serious matters in the show.

Dr. Norwood talked about Powwow culture representing a specific cultural exchange within American tribal nations and not representing Native culture as a whole. Here is some information from the Nanticoke tribal nation on the matter and information from the Lenape people on the same matter.

For more information on the Nanticoke Lenni-Lenape Tribal Nation outside of powwow culture check out their online learning center and museum and their official website.

We also talk a little bit about now the Warehouse itself participates in the oppression of native peoples. Here is some information on the Native history of the South Dakota badlands on which Warehouse 13 resides.

There is a great joke about the band Earth Wind & Fire in the show.

But you know what’s not a joke? The way Artie conflates all Native creation myths as if they’re one thing. Here is some information on the real and multiple creation stories of the Lenape people.

Moving forward, we address the issue that is Jeff Weaver. On Jeff Weaver, I have this to say: Money isn’t a personality and Jeff is boring as heck. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Miranda wonders in the episode if Jeff is supposed to be some kind of White Savior figure. For those unfamiliar with the term, here’s what that means in relation to filmic and televisual storytelling.

In the Warehouse, Claudia solves Artie’s chess conundrum and Miranda and I talk about the deeply impressive nature of a person who understands chess. There is a beautiful film called The Dark Horse that I saw a few years ago that is deeply relevant to this episode. The movie is based on a real-life man named Genesis Potini who was a man of Maori (Native culture of New Zealand) descent who taught chess to underprivileged teens in Auckland New Zealand while homeless. It is moving and highly worth a watch.

We pick up in the hospital with Pete recovering and Myka dutifully standing watch over him. Myka mentions Jeff asked her on a date…

…and Pete tells Myka she’s pretty when she smiles.

It was a sweet moment (and a funny one when he calls her scary right after).

Miranda and I use the moment to talk about the problem of men telling women to smile (even though Pete was loopy and totally wasn’t the kind of bad guy we’re talking about in this particular situation). Here’s one of many, many think pieces on the subject.

After that, we get back to our super uncomfortable but necessary to talk about ~heavy themes~ where Artie tells Leena that the Lenape “sold Manhattan for $24 of arts and crafts.” The episode talks a lot about why this is such a problem. Here’s some more information on how indigenous understandings of land ownership differed from European views and lead to these kinds of insensitive summaries of complex histories.

Moving on to 105 B (Yes, those were ALL notes from 105 A, but don’t worry! The first part of 105 B involves a lot me talking about how much I dislike Jeff Weaver and—while important, because he’s really, really boring—it isn’t a subject that lends itself to extensive show notes.)

Let’s give Pete a big shout out for pulling himself out of his hospital bed to get to work. Poor guy. In the show, he rips out his IV. Don’t do that. It’s a bad idea. It hurts and is super bad for you.

They talk about an artist named Walter Burleigh in the episode. The one in the episode is fictional for the show. But there was actually a real Walter Burleigh who is relevant, but he’s not an artist.

Spoiler alert: he was TERRIBLE.

The real dude lived after the dates relevant to this episode and he lived in a different area, but he did deal with native populations in the Dakota Territory and the native populations with whom he interacted hated him. I wonder if that was more of a plot point and was more accurately portrayed in an earlier draft of the episode and, if so, why, how, and when in the writing process it was changed.

In lighter news, Pete made a great I Love Lucy reference.

Fun fact about the famous “You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do” line from Ricky Ricardo in I Love Lucy: No character was ever allowed to make fun of or imitate Desi Arnaz’s accent aside from Lucy herself (for those who don’t know, the two were married in real life). This is because they were mindful even back then of allowing there to be a real joke that would exist in the lives of interracial romantic partners but also not allowing it to become an excuse to treat the minority character as a joke or a stereotype. You can find out more about that and other aspects of Lucille Ball’s life with Desi Arnaz (and without him) in Episodes 82 and 83 of The History Chicks.

Finally, Miranda and I talked a little bit about ley lines and telegraph lines. If listeners are interested in a great fantasy novel about ley lines, Miranda recommends The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater. Bonus! It's queer. Second, the source of her information about telegraph cables and Australia having bad internet is a book called The Undersea Network by Nicole Starosielski.

That’s all I have for this episode.

Thanks for learning and growing with us, Agents.

8 notes · View notes

cafezimmermann · 5 years

Text

(in which I become angry...)

On Thursday evening, I attended a vernissage at the Grassi Museum of Ethnology in Leipzig for The German Dream, an "ethnographic study of the dreams, rituals, and visions of a society in which many of its members are looking for an alternative for Germany." The exhibition, as seen through the eyes of its two curators – a cultural anthropologist and an art historian – attempted to identify “typically German” things that seemed doomed to disappear in the future.

"At the beginning of the 20th century, ethnologists were driven into the world by the fear of the loss of "foreign" societies, which is why they set off to collect objects, languages, and stories from all over the world before the respective communities disappeared under the pressure of colonialism. Before this presumably happens to the Germans as well, we have collected important every day and cult objects of this community and offer here a small insight into the current state of what is often speculative research."

On the whole, I found the exhibition interesting (having translated parts of it into English, I was curious what it looked like). There were elements of it that I particularly liked – for example, a 1972 video of Germany in the year 2000 that portrayed the typical working day of a specific "Herr B, 45 years old, politically independent, and single. For the past five years, he has had a steady girlfriend, and for the past two years an artificial heart that works satisfactorily for him." In the adjacent room, there was a mockup of the "Weisses Ross" (White Horse), a Leipzig bar that, after 143 years, was forced to close its doors to make way for a modern microbrewery (at the Stammtisch, the regulars of the bar had been invited to drink beer and play a final round of cards for the visitors). And in yet in another room, there was an installation titled "Digging for Dreams and Nightmares" – a presentation of how a German archeological team has been deliberately planting time capsules at random locations for future generations to discover.

These were the exhibition's highlights. For the most part, however, The German Dream seemed to focus on the dreariness of conservative middle-brow mentality and consumerism – a life of plastic water bottles, barbecue grills, supermarket checkout counter dividers at Aldi, Märklin model train sets, plastic garden dwarfs, Playmobil figures, and Jack Wolfskin rain parkas (strange, the exhibition failed to display those little waste receptacles found at breakfast tables in German hotels). These odds and ends that we take for granted in everyday life, accompanied by pictures of faceless communities (where, when you step off of the bus, you stare heavenwards and wonder to yourself "Just what the hell am I doing here?") attempted to portray modern German society, on the whole, as ‘castrated’:

“While megalopolises such as Shanghai and Dubai are realizing the belief in progress in concrete and steel, the Germans are forced to put up with the question: What happened to the great projects? While around 1900 the overall fascination for visions of the future was still great, it seems, only 19 years after Expo 2000 in Hanover, that the German mentality of the 21st century remains stuck in provincialism, skepticism, and retro kitsch.”

That said, the ‘epicenter’ of The German Dream was a room that had been cordoned off by heavy velvet curtains – the "heart of darkness," a space apart from the drab grey of consumerism where "good citizens" dare not go. It was here where the fascinating and yet controversial aspects of German culture could be found. It was here where Lucas Cranach's Eve was offset by, among other things, Schinkel's stage design for the “Queen of the Night” aria in Mozart’s Magic Flute, stills from Reni Riefenstahl's film Olympia, a portrait of Karl Marx's daughter Laura, and a drawing of a wolf in the woods made by the art historian's five-year-old daughter. It was here where Caspar David Friedrich's Cloister Cemetery in the Snow was juxtaposed with portrayals of Albert Speer's Germania (as an "idealized" future) and black and white photographs of drab concrete prefabricated East German housing blocks (as the reality of Socialist utopia). And it was here where, unfortunately, in the middle of it all, Deutschland, Rammstein's latest video, was being played in an endless loop on a video monitor.

In a time where political views seem to be a polarization of extreme political correctness and blatant right-wing populism, Deutschland is a disturbing attempt by Rammstein to address key points of German history: the Crusades, the Reformation, colonialism, National Socialism, and the Cold War – in effect, all of the things that The German Dream didn’t address. And, although I can understand why some regard Rammstein's "message" in the video as a criticism of German history and thus a dissociation of right-wing ideas ("Deutschland, meine Liebe kann ich dir nicht geben" – "Germany, I cannot give you my love"), Rammstein doesn't hesitate to portray the very violence it seems to criticize.

This, in turn, effectively makes Deutschland nothing more than a rape of German history. In an online article about the video, Mitteldeutscher Rundfunk (Central German Broadcasting, MDR) didn't hesitate to conceal the outrage of many who see Deutschland as an affront to humanity and German culture. According to Christoph Heubner, Executive Vice President of the International Auschwitz Committee, the band’s members "rage with their violent fantasies through German history as if inspired, driven by the greed for the most bloodthirsty images and scenes possible, including those of the German concentration camps […] The value of this video as an artistic examination of German history and Germany as a fatherland is far below zero." MDR adds Josef Schuster's opinion to Heubner's thoughts: "Anyone who misuses the Holocaust for marketing purposes acts reprehensibly and immorally."

(Even the title of the video stoops to the lowest common denominator by using the 1934 “Deutschland” typeface, which typesetters, who were brought up with more elegant, humanistic examples of Fraktur from 16th and 17th centuries, ironically referred to as Schaftstiefelgrotesk ("jackboot grotesques"). Oddly enough, Hitler later banned the blackletter typeface in 1941, decreeing that "the so-called Gothic letters were based on Jewish Schwabacher letterforms.")

The message of the video aside, I felt that the overbearing maelstrom of Rammstein's music – its sheer aggressive, overbearing force – pulled the visitor away from being able to focus on the rest of the images in the dimly lit room. It angered me, in part because the visual associations offered were absolutely brilliant – there was so much to discover in the room, and yet, after unsuccessfully trying to draw my attention away from the video, I simply gave up and left, frustrated by the experience.

On my way back home, I started wondering about what this part of the exhibition might have been like if there had been different music. It then hit upon me that in his essay Concert Design. Form Follows Function, Folkert Uhde, the director of Radialsystem V in Berlin, writes about the importance of context in a concert program, citing an experiment he often holds in workshops about concert design:

"I often conduct a small experiment by showing ten very different photographs and playing the same piece of music for each photograph. The reactions are always surprising: depending on the image, which is seen as 'suitable', the music achieves in part an entirely different effect. Sometimes it is even doubted that it was the same recording of the same piece."

With that in mind, I began to ask myself, “What would it have been like the other way around?” How might have the public reacted had this room been presented with a different pieces of music in the background? How might such parallel worlds, which, musically, equally reflect the complex diversity and beauty of Germany's cultural past, affect and alter the visitor’s perception of the images on the wall? Which music would have been best suited? Would the relationship and meaning of the images change according to the musical context - perhaps intensifying the one over the other?

As Folkert Uhde explains: “If the impression is strong enough, it will make an impact. Contextualization can introduce a particular atmosphere, make associations and, above all, create individual personal points of reference for the listener.”

What if, for example, if classical music ranging from Bach's chorale "Ach wie nichtig, ach wie flüchtig" or Salomone Rossi's Al naharot Bavel to Richard Wagner's “Im Treibhaus” (from his Wesendonk Lieder) or Anton Webern's Passacaglia for Orchestra, op. 1, had been playing? Or, if popular music were desired, something like Wolf Bierman's Ermutigung, Jupp Schmitz's Wer soll das bezahlen?, or a video of MarieMarie's A Beautiful Life? What associations might have been made through these pieces of music?

Or, if they really wanted to be confrontational, why not a video of the Ernst Thälmann Lied, the unofficial hymn of the German Democratic Republic?

youtube

“The most precious thing man possesses is life. It is given only once. And he shall use it so that he may say when he dies, ‘My whole life, my whole power, I have dedicated the most glorious thing in the world, in the struggle for the liberation of mankind.’”

(my translation of the text at the end of the video)

Unfortunately, the opportunity to explore such relationships within the context of The German Dream was simply missed. Actually, that’s putting it lightly – the use of the Rammstein video was, in in my opinion, a display of ignorance.

Admittedly, it showed the point where we have arrived in society (which, from what I understand, was the justification for using the video), but failing to take the rest of Germany’s rich musical culture into consideration is criminal. Indeed we have come a long way from Martin Luther’s proclamation “Next to the Word of God, the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world.” But do we really need to reach for the bottom of the barrel and scrape out ‘music’ that is so vile and does nothing more than glorify the history of violence for commercial purposes? And just because we are too blind to look beyond the horizon?

I hope not, and yet, when I see Deutschland being used in a serious discourse about German society, I have my doubts.

0 notes

lestwinsfanfics · 7 years

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Just Friends - Chapter 52

Aaliyah

“So with that out of the way, I would like to officially welcome you all to the brand new Keller and Associates offices in New York City!” Linda raised her glass and everyone in the room followed suit.

A resounding ‘cheers!’ sounded off, mixed with a few salud-s, the clinking of glasses and cups, and claps from those with free hands. Those with free hands clapped. Before we knew it, the music commenced, filling the room with the perfect amount of ambiance. The energy was buzzing.

I took a sip from my champagne flute and casually checked the time on my phone. As we neared later into the evening, I planned on switching over to the hard stuff. “You look like you have the same thing on your mind as I do.”

I turned slightly to see Dalia’s smiling face, her long pixie cut hair slicked backward, highlighting her plush mouth and button nose. “Refilling my glass?”

“Bitch, you guessed it.” We both laughed quietly at her silliness. One of the waiters walked past and caught my eye, stopping to make sure we were both okay. I bid him to check on the DJ, as I saw his glass was nearing an empty state as well. He nodded and swiftly headed that way.

DJ Sonic was one of our newer clients. He worked with Dalia heavily, and was given the opportunity to either attend the party, as all the clients were invited - or get contracted for our music for the evening. The decision was easy and he had done his job amazingly so far.

“We should have taken shots before we left the apartment.” My nod was slow and deliberate, in complete agreement of her statement.

Gone were my scruples about drinking on the job. Once upon a time I would have done my best to conceal any activities that were of anything else than of the sound and professional mind. The business had now put a tiny chip on my shoulder in a good way, and once I realized that these execs were doing the same if not worse, I allowed myself to indulge, never going too far down the rabbit hole but far enough to where I could enjoy some of the perks.

Linda’s smooth walk in our direction bid me to put my drink down, and my smile clued Dalia to her presence as well.

“Aaliyah, Dalia” Linda said as she sauntered over. I moved my glass aside and turned my body to her fully, as she reached out and wrapped us individually into her embrace. “Oh don’t stop on my account, please, enjoy yourselves!”

“You ladies look lovely.” Linda commented, and just as quickly as conversation began, Dalia began to excuse herself. Eva Dalton, an up and coming model and one of Dalia’s clients, sauntered into the room.

“Dalia, the woman over there in the emerald dress is named Asa St. Claire, she is a jeweler, and looking for models for her winter collection. See if you can make the connection, I promised her I’d wow her with our talent.”

With a nod, she was on, smiling as she introduced Eva to Linda and I, then with an ease that I was always impressed by, segwaying the conversation in the direction of one of the large windows, right were Asa stood.

“The work never stops.” Linda said, casually watching over my shoulder as the two likely began to converse. The smile on her face and focus back on me told that the goal was achieved. “Who needs play time when the work is fun.”

Linda laughed, and we clinked glasses again.

“We have to get you a refill.” she noted. I agreed, surveying the crowd for another bartender who would be able to oblige her request.

My body developed a chill out of nowhere. It was odd, considering the room was borderline the perfect temperature, just warm enough to be comfortable but not enough to sweat. I shivered quickly, and inhaled deeply thinking it would leave but it didn’t. My breathing heightened, and the noise of the room faded, leaving the quick pace of my heartbeat to fill my ears.

I was lightheaded.

My eyes darted around the room, confused at why all of a sudden everything seemed to be going haywire and instantly, I figured out the source.

Two pairs of small almond eyes looked right back at me, teeth buried into his bottom lip so hard that it turned the area near the sparse facial hair he had below it white with lack of bloodflow. His hair was twisted and pulled back into a ponytail, making him look even taller than the 6’4” he stood normally. My mouth dropped, and just as quickly as I noticed, I shut it with a swallow.

He wouldn’t stop staring.

I couldn’t stop either.

Linda’s hand on my wrist startled me back into reality as the music refilled the room and everything seemed to level out. My heart was still racing and my throat still dry, but I had forced my eyes away from Larry and back to Linda. With a soft smile, I held my glass tightly as the waiter filled it with the pale, bubbly champagne.

I nodded my thanks and although I still felt the eyes covering my skin like the summer sun, I didn’t look.

It was laughable that I thought I would be ready for this.

“So, how does it feel?” Linda said with a small smirk. I raised my eyebrow as I lifted the glass to my lips, taking just a sip even though I wanted to down it and ask for the whole bottle to myself with a bendy straw.

“Come on.” She turned toward the large window facing the city where the twins stood. “Do you really think I’m that dense?”

I kept the glass at my mouth, hoping it would cover my widened eyes. Had Larry and I been that obvious just now? I felt my cheeks warm and my hands dirty, like I was busted. I knew one day we would be-

“You never had plans on being in L.A. long term, Aaliyah. I knew that when you first applied with Keller, your sister told me after I told her you accepted the internship. She was shocked, you had an amazing game face about wanting to move to the west coast and really dig into the industry.” I exhaled the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“My sister told you that? Snitch.”

“She did.” Linda replied with a laugh. “She was surprised you were so into the internship idea but you were. She stayed out of it until I told her you were offered the position. I thought maybe you had a change of heart about LA, until we offered you the program in New York and your eyes got so big I was sure they would dislodge from their sockets.”

I laughed. “What can I say, I have an actors spirit.”

“You got to New York, and boom, gone was the curly hair week one. I mean you brought it back for a minute, but now here you are, with this long black hair, dark makeup. It was like you were waiting for your moment to debut this Aaliyah.” I smirked, fingering my locks. “I love it. How does it feel?”

“New York feels…” I paused, finding the perfect word on the tip of my tongue. “Right. It feels so good and it’s where I’ve always wanted to be. The work is crazy… ten times busier than being in LA, but being in New York makes it all worthwhile. I love it. I really do.”

I had always dreamed of living in New York. Everything felt so fresh and new when I moved here, which was why I changed my hair so quickly.

Periodic visits during college were nothing like this. This was a whole new experience. Getting a different look felt like the perfect fresh start to everything and it ended up being a fun thing for me. The long jet black hair I currently sported made me feel sleek and sexy, and sharp. It made me feel just like my old naive thoughts when I was younger of what I felt it was to be a New Yorker.

This city was completely different than LA. I was more of an east coaster at heart.

“Well congratulations, Aaliyah. You have done more work here than I could have imagined. I’m very proud of how hard you’ve dedicated yourself to your business. No one could ever accuse me of nepotism for hiring my friends little sister.” We both grinned.

“I appreciate you more than you know.” I felt emotional but I wouldn’t show it.

“Please, everything you have you well deserve. Cheers.”

We clinked our glasses together and sipped once more. “So does this mean I can’t move you back to LA for a couple months?”

“Um… if work calls.” I answered hesitantly. Linda’s laugh was instant.

“I’m kidding!”

“What we laughing about?” A hand placed itself on my back and I froze only slightly, the tonal difference clued me in instantly to the person whom the voice belonged to.

“Laurent, hello dear.” Linda said smiling upward at him. He let me go and kissed her cheek. “I love when you clean up, you look so nice.”

I looked up to catch his bashful smile. Laurent was far from insecure but the attention directly to him always made him like this. “Linda you more beautiful every time i see you, how is this?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I get better with age. Where’s your twin?”

“This is true.” He draped his arm across my shoulders affectionately and I patted his hand, noticing there hadn’t been a peep from Larry, meaning he was somewhere around here. A quick survey of the room lead me to notice he wasn’t anywhere that I could see. “Larry somewhere around here, I don’t know. Where’s Joseph?”

“Entertaining clients. Which reminds me, I have to go talk to Michael Johanneson, he’s was one of the early investors.” Her whole tune changed as she zeroed in on her target. “Laurent make sure you and your brother come over to see Joseph and I before you leave, the kids have been asking about you two.”

“We will for sure.” he nodded.

“Good. I’ll leave you two to it, I’m sure you have catching up to do.” Linda leaned toward me, kissing my cheek lightly and placing her hand on Laurent’s. “Don’t you miss living with those two?”

My laugh was as dramatic as my head shook, nonverbally screaming ‘hell no’, which caused Laurent to grip my shoulder in mock offense.

“She just saying that don’t listen to her!” Laurent said as Linda departed. “You don’t miss me, Aaliyah?”

“Of course I do.” I said, reaching around to hug Laurent. His long arms hung at his side, prompting me to look upward as he rolled his eyes.

“You lucky I love you so much.”

“Awwwww.” I said, squeezing him tighter. He smelled clean, gone was the musky scent of the day and what replaced it was a fresh soapy smell that clung to his clothing. The soft cream colored sweater he wore touched my exposed chest as I held my face back, avoiding contact with my makeup. “You look nice.”

“You look so good, peanut.” He fingered at the top of the leather dress I wore. The A line style was sexy enough with a zipper down the cleavage, but appropriate for a corporate work party with its flow on the bottom and it hitting just above my knees. “I was gonna say something for your hair but I think I shocked enough when I see you yesterday.”

I laughed. Laurent immediately asked me why my hair wasn’t like his when he saw me. “You move to New York, stop talking to everybody, and change you hair?”

No ‘hi’, no ‘I miss you’. Just a huge hug and interrogations about everything that had happened in the past few months.

“Stop it.” I twisted my body just slightly, giving me a view of more of the space, as I looked around wondering exactly where Larry had gone off to.

“If you looking for my brother, he right behind you at the bar, pretending he not been staring at you all night.”

“I’m not looking for anyone.” I replied quickly. “Not when you’re standing right in front of me.”

“So now you lie?” Laurent said jokingly, calling my bluff.

“Who me? Never.”

“Wooooowwwww.” Laurent said with the perfect tone of every fuckboy who had ever elongated that word in a false offense. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Here, Laurent.” I froze, the sound dying in my throat as my heart began in my ear again but I willed my body to calm its instinctive reaction.

Larry’s arm reached over my shoulder to Lau’s chest, handing him what seemingly was a sprite. We were close enough that I could feel the air between us every time he inhaled and exhaled. We weren’t touching, but we all well could have been. Larry was testing me and my boundaries and I was annoyed but I refused to be shaken at my event, around my coworkers and connections. But our proximity was definitely working against me.

The minty coolness from his gum travelled down toward me.

The woodsy scent of his cologne.

The sound of leather on his jacket, shuffling around.

The faint sound of his vibrating phone in his pocket was even audible.

A deep breath had me turning my attention upwards at Laurent, his very confused face directed between the drink in Larry’s hand and the two of us standing together.

“What is this?”

“You tell me you want something to drink.” Larry’s voice shook me to my core again. Its softness caressed my skin leaving goosebumps in its wake and yet its depth managed to travel through my skin, to the blood in my veins.

I couldn’t believe he still had an effect on me. Maybe it was the time apart that heightened it.

Part of me naturally wanted to lean into his lean chest, let him rest his arms on my shoulders and just breathe in his essence. I had missed him so much, but never planned on admitting that. There was a tiny voice, breathy and smooth, reminding me of how comfortable and easy it would be to just, tilt my body backward. Just a bit…

“I tell you in the car on the way here i’m thirsty. You still thinking for this?” Laurent said to Larry, who still had yet to acknowledge me. I stared at Laurent, waiting for something and feeling stuck.

Larry silently dropped his hand and remained in his spot when Laurent accepted the drink. I shook my head, sliding over to the side and taking a deep breath before I turned to face them both. It took every bit of courage I had to make this move. I was now facing him and my words had lost me yet again. All I could do was force out one.

“Larry.”

My chest thumped so hard I was convinced everyone who looked my way could see it through the pale caramel skin on my chest. My free hand remained at my side, holding my clutch, as the other gripped my empty glass. I wished I had something to satiate me, to allow me to remain calm and centered. But the sharp shooting lasers that had initially switched my body into overdrive were so close that they made me light headed.

He bit his lip again, taking his time to survey my body all the way from my heeled feet to my glowing face, the deep lipstick highlighting lips that he always said he loved.

How was it that my anger could be overruled in this emotional court by the sheer existence of someone whose feelings were so powerful at one point… and with whom your feelings were mutual.

Maybe I couldn’t do this.

“You look really pretty, Aaliyah.”

“Thank you.” My heart felt a surge.

“You change your hair.” I laughed softly, knowing it was going to be the first thing he noticed, just as Lau did.

“I did.” I felt myself almost ask if he liked it.

What the fuck was my problem.

His phone rang again and he silenced it quickly, placing it back into his pocket and staring at me again.

“Yall guys gon be quiet some more or you gonna talk forreal?”

I exhaled… his phone reminding me of words exchanged between us and how there was so much to discuss and clear out between us. I prayed quietly for a savior, and looked to Laurent quickly, in hopes that the staring would stop some.

“Lau can you see any of the servers walking around? I need a refill.”

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice interrupted from behind me and I couldn’t help but break out into a megawatt smile. “I’m sorry to break up you all’s discussion but I absolutely couldn’t let another minute of this night go by without speaking to this woman.”

“Preston.” I said with a grin, hugging him tight as he lightly kissed my forehead.

“Aaliyah you are stunning, love.”

“Thank you so much.” I raised one hand to my chest. “You look amazing, but of course you knew that.”

He beamed with the comment. “Compliments from you are truly always a treat. Excuse my interruption, gentlemen.”

I smirked, Preston was always a presence.

“Guys,” I let go of the hug to introduce him to my twins. “This is Preston Scott, he is a head of the design department of Keller, extremely talented graphic designer and curator.”

Preston was a transplant from Vegas oddly enough, but like me was born and raised in Chicago. He was just a few years my elder, fabulously dressed, stood about 6 feet even with an athletic build and a pearly white smile that shined brighter against his mocha colored skin. He was the most charming man I had ever met, and with a quick wit, he and I became fast friends in the office, as he lovingly referred to me as his work wife.

Linda had a habit of hiring dope people, who could do a myriad of tasks and still remain polished and personable. Preston was no different. He shined wherever he existed.

“You two are Les Twins, forgive me if I can’t tell you apart yet but I have seen your photo in Aaliyah’s office.” I internally rolled my eyes. They didn’t know I had the picture of us in Vegas framed and on my desk. It had been moved behind me and out of my direct eyeline but I couldn’t bear to get rid of it, even with how upset I was with Larry.

“She have a picture of us? Thats so sweet.” Laurent said, grabbing my cheek with a pinch and I brushed his hand away, rolling my eyes. Larry was surprisingly quiet, his eyes baring into Preston’s face with a challenging look that I recognized instantly.

Larry was jealous. The slick comments would begin soon, I was sure. But he knew how I was with work, and should have known better to assume this was someone I was dealing with on anything more than a work and friend level.

I had been so caught up in the haze that I really forgot the main issues at the core of Larry and I’s relationship. His jealousy, his lack of care, and his impulsivity being main ones that were presenting themselves right at this moment.

I wouldn’t quell his curiosity, though. As he transferred his stares to me instead of Preston, I rolled my eyes at his shit. Gone was the admiration I peeped earlier. Now it was irritation, a bit of smugness.

He sipped his drink and smirked.

“Yeah, Aaliyah has a picture of the three of you. If I didn’t know any better I would have been jealous,” Preston’s tone told of his joking but Larry wouldn’t budge. He continued to stare.

“So, you and Aaliyah?” Larry found his voice. The words slid out of his mouth like the smoke from the end of a lit fuse… waiting to finish its journey to combusting and fucking up everything in its vicinity. “You really close huh.”

Laurent shook his head and laughed, and I eyed him as well, begging him to control his brothers impending outburst.

“She’s a very special person. I would have lost my mind without her on some of these late nights.” His vibrating phone buzzed, interrupting his train of thought as Larry took the opportunity to sip his drink and prepare himself for more slick words. “Speaking of special, remember I told you I needed you to meet someone tonight… I’ll be right back.”

He straightened his tie and placed his empty glass on the table near us. “Excuse me.”

I sucked my teeth once Preston was out of earshot and glared at Larry. “Really?”

“You serious right now?” He laughed. “Wow. You know I almost shocked but I really shouldn’t be.”

“Larry, shut up man.” Lau said, exasperated at his twins outburst.

“You shut up.” he bit back. “Aaliyah change up once she get to New York, stop trying to save her ass. Well maybe she don’t change. How we know?”

“Larry, I’m not about to do this shit with you right now.” I said under my breath. I refused to let him make me upset and have us make a scene. His implications about me and Preston based on his and my relationship made me want to haul off and smack him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a full reaction.

“So thats why its so easy for you to not talk to me huh? You fucking with uptight Preston and you make me sit and wonder why I don’t hear from you in forever?”

“Are you literally kidding me? You know exactly why we haven’t spoken.” I bit back, feeling indignant. I started to become hot, the copious amounts of champagne filling my empty stomach with now drunk butterflies. These hors d'oeuvres weren’t nearly enough to satiate me and now that I was angry my head began to pulse. “I’m literally not fucking doing this shit with you tonight Larry, I’m not.”

“There you are,” a slightly nasally voice called out a bit too loudly for the conversation going on in the room. “Hi Laurent, you look nice.”

“The hell she doing here?” Laurent bit to Larry, pissed. I stood nearly slack jawed at the scene in front of me, but my pride wouldn’t allow my mouth open. My lips pursed together as I shook my head. Really it was fucking laughable.

Karina stood in front of me in a nude jumpsuit which clung to her every curve. The color was just slightly lighter than her tanned skin, and she looked very cute, but not for this event. Even Larry, who almost always leaned sportier than he should be dressed, was in a nice leather jacket and button up shirt.

Her makeup was pristine however, and her hair, long, straight, and flowing down to her ass, was glistening in the lights of the room.

“Sweetie can you refill this?” Karina said, raising her significantly arched brow ever so slightly as we locked eyes. Her glass was extended a mere few inches away from my body and my chuckle was obvious as I turned my head to Larry’s, his face a mixture of frustration and shock, only for him to turn to me with an indignant look on his face.

Before he could open his mouth, Laurent jumped in. “You fucking kidding me right? You know exactly who that is, don’t bullshit right now trying for be funny.”

“Check that shit in, Larry.” he added after a pause, while he stopped to grill Karina for her purposeful shade toward me. I couldn’t stop shaking my head and smiling to myself.

“Here she is!” Preston’s baritone voice filled my ear. “Aaliyah, I would like you to finally meet my boyfriend, Alvin.”

My smile was forced but, perfect. It quickly transformed to a real one once I turned my body and finally placed my eyes on Alvin. “I have heard so much about you!”

“… and I you!” He said with a kiss on my cheek. “You’re just as beautiful as he described you to be.”

“Alvin this is my friend Laurent Bourgeois.” I said with a smile, placing my hand on Lau’s shoulder. “And his twin Larry, and Larry’s date.”

I barely acknowledged the two of them, but a brief glance allowed me to see Larry’s slouched shoulders and Karina’s uncaring nonchalance.

“If you all would excuse me, I have to run and chat with one of my other clients.” I said, abandoning my glass on the table behind me. “Feel free to mingle more or converse amongst yourselves. Just enjoy the party. Alvin, we will have to chat more tonight I promise.”

My megawatt smile was a facade that I refused to break, even with Larry’s eyes prodding my armor as I walked away.

–

Larry.

“You look really familiar.” Laurent said to Alvin as I remained confused by everything that was happening. I don’t know when this night went left but what was in my plans was not even close to what had just occurred.

Yes, I was testing this nigga Preston based on their relationship but what was I supposed to think? That level of intimacy couldn’t have been anything but something special between them. I was wrong in my assessment but I couldn’t help it.

I would always be that… protective over Aaliyah.

Karina being here was the icing on the cake of fucked up shit that had just happened in the span of about ten minutes and now my head was starting to kill me.

I was supposed to walk in, find Aaliyah, pull her aside, and squash this shit between us. All day I had been thinking about exactly what I was going to say and how I was going to say it. I jumbled over words and figured I’d just wing it, with hope that me being candid would earn me some points.

I saw her annoyed with me for trying to discuss our personal relationship at a work function. I saw her resolve breaking, and her finally willing to sit down with me and hash shit out. It was idealistic as fuck, sure, and she and I had a lot to discuss. I’m sure she had questions and I had them too, but I was ready to be the bigger person, put it out there and figure out our shit. Even if I had to chase her. I would do it.

Aaliyah had no clue. Even in my most frustrated moment… I missed her so much.

I had a habit of kicking people aside when I was over it. There was no dwelling on my anger. Yes I would be mad, I would speak ill of them if ever asked by anyone. It was petty and childish, but with Aaliyah, all of my frustration was confused with my feelings of missing everything about her. I don’t know if it was because she told me she didn’t want to be with me romantically, or if it was because I just… didn’t understand how our friendship went left like it did… I was stuck.

Tonight was supposed to be the start.

“Yeah, we did work together at the Vegas show! Larry, you remember?” Laurent slapped at my arm to get my attention as I nodded, sipping my drink. Preston raised his eyebrow at my clear inattention and I wondered what he knew. His look was… not all knowing but definitely of someone who had some sense of what was going on.

“You worked for the Marquis?” I questioned, faintly remembering hearing his words. Karina sighed below me, searching for some attention. I wouldn’t give her that. I was pissed.

“Yeah, I do.” Alvin nodded, and Preston beamed in pride at his boyfriend’s success.

“I remember meeting you. I bad at names but not faces. Whats up man.”

I reached my arm past Karina, who’s huff was audible at my behavior. I couldn’t help but be agitated. She wasn’t supposed to be here and her being here currently was a slap in my face.

The two calls from her that I ignored could have been a warning… or her trying to piece together why I didn’t want her here, I wasn’t sure.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Aaliyah hug someone and make her way away from the group with a breath, a smile painted on her face and a carefree look about her.

I had been staring all night.

It was undeniable how good she looked. She looked so happy at work, and I knew it wasn’t just the glasses of champagne she had consumed. Her hair was different, but the long waves suited her. I missed her fro. Her lipstick was painted on perfectly, her clothes tailored to a t. I watched as she placed her now empty glass down, and paused to check her phone before sighing deeply and heading toward the bathrooms.

“I’ll be right back.” I shocked myself with my own words.

“Where are you going?” Karina said, giving Laurent and the guys her back with her arms crossed.

“Bathroom.” I was short with her, putting my glass down as Preston sipped his, eyeing Karina and I and shaking his head.

“We need to talk.” Karina said louder than she needed to. She had her arms crossed and was clearly upset.

“We will.” I said, with a nod that told her to let it go.

Running into Linda and Joseph briefly stalled me just enough to reach the bathrooms right when Aaliyah exited the women’s room.

I caught her by complete surprise. The quiet restroom area was fairly dark and me lurking in the shadows was likely the least of her expectations. I couldn’t leave things as they had been.

Once the shock wore off, I was met with the eyeroll of a century.

What was once an enjoyable smile on her face earlier was nowhere to be found. Her lips pursed together completely flat, and while one hand grasped her purse, the other found its way on her full hips.

“Really.” She said, her head tilted to the side as her hair bounced with the motion.

“Aaliyah… “

“You can’t be serious right now.”

“What you mean?”

“What do I mean? You seriously - no.” She said, stopping herself. “I’m not doing this. I told you that already. I’m done with this shit. I am.”

“No, Aaliyah you have to listen to me. We need to talk.”

“You had ample opportunity to talk to me. You barely spoke, but found your words once my coworker came around? I don’t get it.”

“Okay, I was acting crazy for that bu-”

“No.” She interrupted. “I’m not done. You pull that shit then you bring your little girlfriend here and let her disrespect me, again?”

“Aaliyah I didn’t-”

“I don’t care about your dating life. I don’t. I don’t give a fuck.” Those words made my heart ache. “Do what you want, you do it all the time. But damn, you’d think you had some sort of chill at least a little bit… my God.”

“Aaliyah I didn’t bring her.” I pleaded her to believe me. “She come on her own.”

“Larry, I don’t care how she got here. The point is she was here and… she’s not even the point. You’re the problem. You want to bring someone important here bring them. But you know you and I have unsettled shit and you come in here acting like….” I could tell the words were escaping her. “Like… ugh!”

Her frustrations were causing her thoughts to run faster than she could keep up with. I could see the aggravation in her face. After a few deep breaths, she found her resolve and raised her head to look me in the eyes.

“Look. Larry… “

“No, Aaliyah, listen to me. I’m sorry. It’s your night… you look beautiful.” My heart began to beat harder. “I don’t want to make you pissed or whatever. I promise you I didn’t bring her here and I promise you I not trying for make you mad or anything like that.”

My arm reached out to grab hers instinctively.

She flinched.

So did I.

“I want you to have a good night. I’m sorry about earlier. I just come here for let you know I not fuck with you for ruin shit. Me and you, we gotta talk, okay?”

Aaliyah sighed.

“Okay?” I repeated, shaking her arm slightly.

“What are you doing?”

I turned quickly to see Karina’s head cocked to the side, surveying the scene in front of her. My hand hadn’t left Aaliyah’s arm. I didn’t care to drop it either.

A scoff resounded next to me as Aaliyah shrugged her shoulder and removed herself from my grasp. Her head shook before she stopped, looking me in the eyes with a look of disgust before she walked away, passing Karina with no form of acknowledgment at all. I watched it all in front of me, ensuring that nothing crazy would pop off between them, moreso concerning Karina and her actions.

“Yo, are you fucking kidding me right now?.” Karina’s voice raised and my eyes bugged at her. “Like, seriously Larry?”

“Calm down, why the fuck you yelling?” I bit back, stepping closer to her to make her quiet down.”

“You say you’re coming right back and I walk back here and catch you with that bitch huddled up in a corner? Like… Are you fucking joking?” Karina yelled, angrily. I could smell the alcohol on her breath.

“You drunk?”

“Nigga worry about why the fuck I have to chase your lying ass around, not what the fuck I CONSUME AT A PARTY.” I knew she was loud, and I could only hope no one in the party could hear her. There was no one in the bathroom at the moment, and for that I was lucky.

“You wouldn’t have to chase shit if you hadn’t come.”

“You fucking lied to me!” She seethed. “Intimate party my ass. You just didn’t want to bring me so you could be all up her ass? Are you fucking kidding me? For. What.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I brushed off her sentiments that were mostly correct, but fuck that. I told her no and she was here anyway. What she saw was only of her own doing by being here.

“Oh I don’t know what I’m talking about?” Her head pushed forward and one hand sat on her hips with an anger I rarely saw from her. In fact, things were so easy between us that this was one of our first major fights. She and I never saw too much drama. That was part of the attraction to having her around.

But this was a whole new side.

I wasn’t prepared to deal with this one. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

The speed with which her two fingers made their way to my forehead caught me off guard when I felt the pressure of my head being pushed backward.

“Huh? You fucking heard me, Larry.” She raised her arms angrily and gave me a push.

“Yo, keep your fucking hands off me, Karina. What’s your problem?”

Before she could reach up and shove me again I grabbed both of her wrists and pinned her against a wall. Just as I did that, my brother came around the corner.

“Larry what the fuck man. Let her go.” He grabbed me without a fight. My chest heaved as I wondered how I got that frustrated so quickly.

“No fuck that, Larry. Go ahead! You wanna rough me up again? What’s next, huh? A slap?”

“Yo, you fucking kidding me?” I gritted back. Laurent pressed against me angrily before turning to her.

“Karina what the fuck you doing right now. You acting crazy as fuck now you tell my brother for hit you? You fucking stupid? What the fuck, forreal?”

Instantly, her brows went from a sharp furrow in anger to a complete crumble of her normally beautiful face. She burst into tears. A wail.

I cringed, and rounded my brother, who stood in disbelief. I walked over to her as she collapsed onto the couch and cried harder.

“Larry what the fuck wrong with her.”

“Shut up Lau.” I said, sitting by her side as she turned her body into mine. My arms raised instinctively to comfort her even though I was pissed. Women crying was my weakness.

“You fucking kidding me?”

“Lau, go back to the party!” I bit back as her tears became heavier and louder on my chest. I could hear her mumble into my shirt.

“Karina… what’s wrong with you?”

She raised her head slowly, her hair covering most of her face and wiped away some of the tears that clung to her lashes. “When am I going to be enough for you, Larry?”

“What you mean?”

“When am I going to be enough for you?!” I sighed. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. We had always been casual, that was never an issue for us. I didn’t understand what this was about but I wasn’t about to just dismiss her tears. Other than today she had been nothing but respectful of me.

“Karina…”

“This a joke.” Laurent scoffed. “She sitting here playing victim and you falling for the shit.”

“Lau.”

“Larry!”

“I am a victim!” She yelled at my brother. “Larry I have always been there for you, when she wasn’t. I have always catered to you, I’ve done everything. I fucking love you and I thought you loved me too.” Her tears began again as she put her face in her hand.

“I want to go home.”

“Good.” Laurent said offhandedly, his face in his phone.

“Fuck you, Laurent.” She bit back with a slur as she rose to her feet and immediately toppled back down to the couch. She wasn’t just drunk, she was wasted. “I”m leaving.”

“I’m going to call us an uber. I’ll take you home.” I said lowly, and Karina looked to me with a smile as she wiped away the remnants of tears, leaving makeup on the sleeve of her jumpsuit.

“Larry.”

“Laurent.”

“Fine, whatever man.” Lau said as he stormed off. I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. I’d had enough of this evening and I needed to get out of here before anything else happened to ruin this evening for me, or for anyone else - especially Aaliyah.

#lt fanfics #les twins fanfic #les twins fanfiction #Just Friends fanfic #Jay #submission

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