He wasn't one for late nights, but early mornings were his favorite. Crisp, 4 a.m. are kept him awake on his journey through the village to gather his supplies. The shopkeeps didn't mind. In fact, the hardly noticed. He left money in the register and restockes the containers before he left, and he never made a sound.
He returns to his hut by the docks to retrieve his lunch for the day. His quaint skiff waits for him tied to the wooden post of the dock while the sun shly peks over the water's edge. He loads his belongings and pushes off the shore, rowwing his usual route away from his home.
Once out far enough, he sets his lines and lets the current carry him lazily. This was his favorite part of every day, but he didn't care of silence where there was no other human to be upset at him for disturbing them. He happily plucks the string on his passed-down ukulele and begins to quietly sing an old lullaby his mother sang to his baby sister years ago.
It brings him a sense of peace. He focuses on the rising sun and the rocking of his boat. The golden rays took a bit to reach him, but he welcomed the warmth on his skin happily. However, something was different. There was a strange feeling in the air as he waited for fish to bite, but he still felt at peace.
Now, they all know his name but not where he went, and they say if you ask for a lullaby while on the shore, he'll sing for you.
His tattered clothing barely fit his frame, but it was all he had. He stops in front of a shop's front window and admires a gray sweater. He longs to feel the soft fabric on his skin, but he mustn't say anything. He would certainly make his mother upset, and his father would punish him for saying such a rude thing.
He forces his feet to move towards his home again, swallowing his desires for less shabby garments and listening to the snow crunch under his worn-out boots as he walks, instead. The cool breeze calms him, but he finds himself uneasy, a twisting feeling consuming his stomach.
His legs instictively carry his body faster, but his head doesn't turn. He keeps his eyes focused on the horizon beyond him. Then, he hears noises that do not belong to him. His ribs shrink around his heart as he slowly turns his head just enough to look over his shoulder, expecting to see a human or a rabid animal.
Instead, he finds a large dog with a sunken stomach and weak eyes staring up at him. His heart breathes again once he realizes the creature was likely following him in hopes to get fed, but the likely-hood of that happening are slim. He knew that. He didn't even know where his next meal was coming from, if you would consider scraps a meal.
Everything in his mind told him to leave the animal because he wouldn't be able to help it, but his heart shattered at the thought of leaving it here without even trying to help. He tilted his head as he looked over the animal again, trying to think of some way to help.
He catiously reaches a shaky hand out for the dog to sniff, the boy now crouching to be level with the animal. He braces himself for a possible attack but only feels cold, matted fur. He opens his eyes to see the dog's head pressed against his palm.
"Hey there, buddy," he coos with a somber grin as he rubs the dog's head, "You must be freezing."
The boy struggles to tug off his outer coat and gently wraps it around the dog's torso, tying the sleeves loosely around its neck. The dog lifts its head to meet his eyes with the boy's, now with a more hopeful look. The boy smiles and motions for the animal to follow him, hoping with all his heart that it would.
He soon finds a bakery that he passes by everyday and quietly strolls to the back entrance, hoping the patissiers would set out stale bread that wasn't suitable for sale. He glances over them and stuffs a loaf in his pocket before taking a second. Breaking off the end, he offers a piece to the dog, which it gladly devoured.
The boy continues to break off bread pieces for the dog to keep it following him. Although, he wasn't sure why. He knew his father would be furious because they wouldn't able to feed it. They can barely feed themselves, so how would they be able to take care of another being?
Nevertheless, he knew he had to try. He couldn't leave the poor thing without trying. He prayed that his father would let him keep it. He voices these prayers as he walked so the dog could know how badly the boy wanted to help him, and he knew it understood. If not, why would it still be following him?
The walk home ended with a small pep talk to himself, practicing the question for his father, but before he could even open the front door, his father's voice boomed through the kitchen window, "Don't even think about bringing that mangy mutt inside this house, boy."
The boy's spirit dropped, calling back to his father in obdience. He turns and crouches down to the animal's level again. His lips curl downwards sadly as he looks into the dog's hopeful eyes.
"I'm sorry, buddy," he whispers, talking the dog's face in his hands, "but I promise, I'll take care of you."
The boy raises his hand and taps the dog's nose with his outstretched pinky.
I've never been close to my family, especially my parents, so when I was sixteen and my girlfriend asked to meet my family, I panicked. I knew they wouldn't like her, and that would make her upset. However, it was a normal thing that dating people do. Besides, there was a chance of them liking her, right?
Unfortunately, I got my hopes up for nothing because that Saturday night was a flaming train-wreck from the moment she arrived. She showed up with her hair pulled back under a head-band and a dress that cut off right at her knees. I couldn't help but be reminded of those girls you'd see on a poster for old movies your grandparents make you watch.
I lead her in and the night started and ended just like that. Before I knew it, I was cleaning dishes, and she was no where to be found. As each of my family members threw their plates into the say water in the kitchen sink, they all had something to say.
"She's sweet, but I think you could do better."
"Your mother's right. She's a little slow."
"How'd you end up with that when I hear Maddie's after you?"
"I like her."
Splash! A white mug slips from my hands and into the water. My grandfather laughs at me while I scramble for a towel, babbling out, "What? Really?!"
"I said I like her." he laughed again.
His laugh was one from his chest, and it almost made you want to join whenever you hear it. So, I did. I giggled at the soap suds on my cheek and my wet shirt. After we stopped, my grandfather said something I've never forgotten before leaving me dumb-founding in the middle of our run-down kitchen:
"Treat her heart like an antique. It's rare, one-of-a-kind. You mustn't drop it."
When someone says 'home', what do you think of? Do you think of your parents and your family pet, or do you think of the love you go home to every night? Most people will think of the four walls they spent their first 18 years in. They think of the off-white walls and the itchy carpet and the faint scent of cotton creeping from the laundry room, but the others, the others like me. they never think of that place as home because they've never been there. That place is their hopes and dreams but never a reality. Those people, they think of someone or somewhere their family isn't. They think o their best friend's house where the adults help them instead of tear them down. They think of the person they go to when things get rough, or they think of their hiding spot where the world can't find them. 'Home' isn't always a house.
"Hurry up!"
"What if we get in trouble?!"
He laughed at me for that because we'd get in trouble for anything we do. It's not right to be like us. That's what they say, so I moved faster in fear someone would catch us.
"Hurry!"
He pulled me into the abadoned train car with him, and we laughed. At each other. At ourselves, At them. Then, there was silence, and then, hands on my waist. I looked up into his blue eyes, and I felt the color wrap arround me. The next second, his soft, pink lips were on mine, the collar of his thrift-shop sweater balled up in my tiny fists.
I wish it could've stayed like that with the sun our only audience, but humans love to involve themselves in things they shouldn't.
Gasps.
Fast foot-steps.
Sirens.
He drug me along behind him as he ran. the sound of gravel under the car's tires willed my feet to keep up with his. We laughed as we ran towards town because we had faith that they weren't going to catch us, and even if they did, they wouldn't be able to hold us for long.
Anonymous Requested: bts namjoon fluff where you come home stressed, so he runs a bath and they take a bath together?? generally fluffy please~ c:
Summary: Your boss really knows how to push your buttons, but your boyfriend knows exactly how to unwind you.
You hated days like these. You had woken up in a great mood, but your boss did the exact opposite. He had come into work with a scowl and kept his attitude up your entire shift. He even peppered in a few yelling fits, and all your oculd do about it was angry sweep the dining room. By the time you got home, you didn’t want to see another living human, not even your boyfriend, and you let him know that on the phone before you left work. However, you phone call gave him a twenty minute window to set up a perfect at-home date.
When you opened the front door, you heard soft classical music spilling from the hall. You sighed and kicked off your shoes. The music got slightly louder as you walked down the hall and found Namjoon in the bathroom, bathrobe wrapped around him.
“I know you said you didn’t want to see anyone, but I felt bad. And, before you say anything,” he reaches around the door that’s blocking the counter from your view and pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses, “I got your favorite.”
You sucked in a deep breath and looked around. The bath was full and complete with bubbles and rose petals, and the waterproof speaker was sitting on thefar shelf. The lights were low, and he had even managed to light a few candles. He really cared about you and wanted you to feel better, so how could you say no?
Besides, you shouldn’t let your boss’ sour mood spoil your entire day.
Soon, you were up to your chest in bubbles and warm water and down about three glasses of wine. Namjoon had let you huff out all of your frustrations onto him, and now, you were nothing but giggles. You’re such a lightweight that it didn’t take long for your mood to lighten. You were now telling jokes to each other and messing with his hair and shoving bubbles onto his face to make his dream beard.
His laughter lifted you into a different world, and you never wanted to come down. However, the mood was beginning to wind down, and Namjoon had you held close to his chest. You could feel his breathing steady out as he tilted his head back. You did the same, letting your eyes close. You suddenly feel his grip on you tighten.
“I love you.” he whispers,
“I love you, too.” you whisper back.
You hear him take a deep breath before pushing both of you to sit up. You try to frown at him for moving, but his lips were on yours before you could express your dissatisfaction with the position change. His hands rubbed over your shoulders as his tongue slowly swiped over your bottom lip. You could already tell where the rest of this night was going, and you didn’t mind one bit.
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