writings

a place to keep some plots and shit

[d--plots]

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“people rarely get it right the first try.” geun didn’t mind it. his name was foreign a lot of people had probably never even heard the korean language before. the only time it became an issue is if he felt that someone was simply not trying. and that rarely seemed to be the case. at least so far, maybe in the future he’d run across an asshole like that. that was if he survived and came out of this with no injuries. but given that he was awake and in an ambulance currently he felt confident enough in those two things, even if he did hurt a little bit.

geun laughed doing his best to ignore the sudden stab of pain that caused. “it’s– well, i can’t exactly repeat the english translation in polite society.” or he could he knew the translation, however, he was doing his best not to swear anymore. not that it had gotten him over far. he was a bit prolific in his use of impolite language and it was hard to get himself to stop it. “i’m fine. i just wasn’t expecting it.” he added because at this point it would probably hurt worse if the silent paramedic stopped whatever he was up to.

“for lack of a better word.” geun wasn’t sure that he would call them a fan. geun was a fan of hayao miyazaki but he wasn’t about to fly to japan and stab the man just because he had chosen to take a step back from directing feature films to focus on short films and manga. he lost the ability to think coherently for a moment taken off guard yet again by whatever the other paramedic was doing. he did however catch a string of english swear words in there which was a surprisingly accurate interpretation of how he felt. “that’s what i said.” geun squeezed out, feeling a little short of breath but unable to let the moment pass without making a joke.

“Sorry,” Danny repeated, feeling like a jerk anyway. No one ever mispronounced their name after all. At least he was being nice about it. They’d never driven someone famous or even semi-famous to the hospital before, but they’d heard stories from Nic and Johnny, or at least from Johnny, about times they’d picked up celebrities who were real pain-in-the-rears despite the fact that they were the ones who were hurt. They were glad their first Important Person case was someone friendly enough and polite enough, even if they felt like they weren’t being their best self.

“You aren’t in polite society,” Danny offered, for what it was worth. “Someone once threatened to--uh, what was it?” They pressed their lips together, ignoring the sting in their side as they watched Nic finish cleaning out the wound as much as any of them would be able to. “Oh, yeah. She said she was gonna shove a cactus up my rectum. She said it just like that, too. ‘I’m gonna shove a cactus up your rectum.’ So trust me when I say we’ve heard worse.”

They were glad that Geun was able to laugh at least. Johnny pulled the rig up into the hospital parking lot, though, before he could say too much more. “Hey, rectum-boy,” he called out, turning back to Danny. “You think you can manage to grab the triage team? Nic’s good but he’s no doctor.” Danny sighed at the nickname, but hopped out the back of the rig anyway, filling the nurse in as Nic and Johnny slid Geun back onto the stretcher. By the time the doctors were assembled, they had him through the doors, and he was swallowed up by a crowd of people standing by the stretcher.

“You should stay with him,” Nic said quietly, surprising both Danny and Johnny. Whatever answer Danny was about to give was cut off by another pain in their side, which they shook off. This was getting to be ridiculous. They had a job to do. “Until his emergency contact shows.” Of course, Nic had a point. He was never not sensible. “We’ll cover for you.”

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“no. i’m fine.” hyunho wasn’t sure when he started lying so easily. it was pretty easy to tell that he wasn’t in fact fine. he couldn’t see the side of his face but judging from how tender it currently felt it had probably started to swell up quite a bit. hyunho was sure that he wouldn’t be able to open his eye in the morning. which meant he probably wasn’t going to be able to take clients, he couldn’t do readings over the phone he was always tied to direct interactions. and noah wasn’t going to be happy about it.

he smiled slightly at the compliment. “it’s dirty. i haven’t had a chance to clean.” that had been what the fight had been over this time. his boyfriend felt as though hyunho was shirking on the chores and hyunho had tried to tell him he’d do it tomorrow. all that really needed doing was a bit of vaccuuming and some dishes after all. and that hadn’t gone over well with noah but the more hyunho attempted to calm him down the angrier he got which of course had all ended with hyunho getting what was more than likely going to turn into a black eye.

“two years.” hyunho responded softly. “noah’s lived here for at least four or five…” it was still technically noah’s apartment. hyunho’s name was on the lease because he was living there but otherwise it was still predominantly noah’s place. oftentimes hyunho felt more like a live-in maid than a live-in boyfriend. but maybe that was his fault for not insisting they find a new apartment to establish as theirs.

Oliver considered the answer. Sure, it was possible. He’d gotten hit and been fine--sometimes, that was life. That didn’t mean he believed it. Mind your own damn business, he could hear his sister saying. Like she had the last dozen times he’d mentioned his upstairs neighbors. And maybe he should. If the guy was lying, that was his problem, wasn’t it? Oliver’s stomach turned at the thought. There was something so cold about not caring whether or not his neighbor was okay. How was he supposed to do it? In the end, he found the best compromise he could. “Well, anyway, I don’t recommend frozen peas for a bruise like that one,” he said, offering probably unwanted advice. It was his only real way to help, though. “Unless you want little pea-shaped bruises. I’d crush up some ice in a bag and use that. Y’know, in case it starts to hurt or something.” There, he helped. A little. Hopefully.

“Doesn’t look dirty to me,” he answered honestly. Oliver was no neat freak, but he liked spaces to be tidy, and this one sure seemed tidy enough to him. Of course, once the words were out of his mouth, he realized that Hyunho might be a neat-freak. “Not that there’s anything wrong with cleaning it,” he backtracked immediately. “I mean, good for you for wanting to be extra clean or--yeah.” He stopped there, rather than allowing himself to spiral vocally. “It’s nice, though,” he said instead, focusing on the positive. 

He nodded absently at the words. Maybe that was what was so disappointing about the room, though. It didn’t have much personality. Not that he could judge--his whole apartment was generic as they come, with all his personal stuff still in a box in his room, packed. But the room didn’t have anything that made it seem like to the man in front of him. And maybe it didn’t. Oliver knew he shouldn’t be nosing about in this couple’s business but his mind wandered without him meaning to. “Have you guys been together that long?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t. Knowing it was not his own damn business. Knowing that he wouldn’t exactly like hearing that this had been going on for a long time, but wouldn’t like hearing it was new either. There was just no winning, which was why he shouldn’t have asked.

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open to: m/f/nb muse: seongtae plot: i had to be your fake boyfriend/girlfriend because some creep was hitting on you and it was making you uncomfortable and now i have busted knuckles and a cut lip but hey are you okay?

seongtae had never been the type to just sit by and watch someone who was in need. granted, the only thing that had been at stake was the other person’s comfort but the creep who was hitting on them wouldn’t leave them alone or take no for an answer. so seongtae had stood up and intervened by pretending like he was dating the stranger. usually that was enough for even the most persistent of people to get the message. but this guy apparently was just dumb because he’d kept going and the situation kept escalating until the creep had eventually sucker-punched seongtae. and seongtae had responded with a punch (or twelve) of his own – which admittedly wasn’t the smartest idea because it had gotten him kicked out of the bar. but at least the creep was gone too.

seongtae had his front-facing camera on surveying the damage. his knuckles hurt a lot more than his face. the creep couldn’t even throw a proper sucker punch. the only problem was that seongtae absolutely wasn’t going to be able to go on broadcast with a split lip and he did work tomorrow. he could only hope that word of this incident wouldn’t get back to his superiors at the station before he could explain himself. seongtae rubbed some blood away from his lip wincing in the process before letting out a sigh.

it was around that point that he noticed his “significant other” had come out of the bar too. seongtae stood up slightly. “i’m really sorry if that was presumptuous earlier but i couldn’t help but notice he was bothering you.” he said bowing his head low in apology. “you’re alright though, aren’t you?” seongtae hadn’t noticed anything other than some unsavory flirting but he felt like he should at least check to make sure that nothing else had happened.

There was nothing Sammy hated more than being called baby girl. First of all, ze was a grown-ass adult, and second of all, ze wasn’t a girl. So the whole thing just reeked of no, thank you no matter who said it. Some drunk creep at a bar, though? That was zir least favorite kind of baby girl. And this guy was especially bad. He would not stop, no matter how many excuses ze tried, and ze tried all of them. Everything from ‘I’m not interested’ to ‘oh, I’m waiting for someone else.” It was that last one, actually, that caused the problem. Because, of course, he asked where he was, and ze froze up.

That wasn’t even the problem, though. The problem was that some other guy actually appeared, out of freaking nowhere, and pretended to be the person she was waiting for. Which was insane enough, but then he went and got himself punched by the creep, and then beat the shit out of him and got thrown out, and now ze just didn’t know what to do. No one’s written a guide-to-thanking-the-guy-who-saved-you-at-a-bar, or if they had, Sammy hadn’t read it yet. Still, following him out was the least ze could do.

“Hey,” ze called out, approaching slowly like he might jump if ze startled him. “Me? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Some guys started a fight in that bar. Wild, right?” Probably not a good time for a joke, but ze tried zir best. “Listen, whatever the opposite of apologizing is, that’s what you should be doing. Hell, I should be on my knees thanking you.” Ze looked down. The ground was wet from the rain earlier that day. “I won’t, but I should. Are you okay? Can I--uh...get you an aspirin or a bandaid or something?”

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roman had to fight a double-take when the guy gave his name. because the minute he said benji roman remembered being a small child himself watching soap operas with his mother. the guy before was the little blond kid from his mother’s favorite show and shit– roman hadn’t even recognized him. “oh….oh you’re that benji.” roman was having a hard time believing that anyone could be so stupid. because yeah, he certainly didn’t look like the actor on tv or in the movies but he was similar enough that roman really should’ve put two and two together earlier than just now. “i thought you looked familiar.”

and now roman was about a million more times embarrassed to be taking benji to the shitty little 1998 silver mazda that somehow hadn’t managed to crap out on him yet. not that he was exactly confident about that before it was pretty obvious that benji had money and he well…didn’t. he worked three jobs just to be able to make rent on his apartment because unfortunately being zombie number 6 in a c-list horror movie didn’t exactly keep the lights on.

roman still lead him to said beater car pulling his keys out of his his pants pocket. to unlock the doors. he smiled slightly. “i bartend on the weekends, and bus tables at a friend’s restaurant sometimes. but if you’re talking about what i came out here to do it’s acting. hasn’t quite worked out for me, though.” roman sometimes struggled with the idea that he should move on. he was twenty four now and not getting much younger, all his high school friends had stable jobs by now and here roman was working three jobs just to keep his tiny apartment. he felt like he wasn’t going anywhere but that wasn’t benji’s problem.

There was no doubt in Benji’s mind what that Benji meant. He would always be that Benji. Sometimes, he wished he’d chosen another name at the time. Of course, his agent told him if he wanted, he could go by something different now. But Benji was all anyone called him--it was who he was. Still, he took a moment to process the words. Well, not the words. How to react to them. He was used to being recognized, he guessed, but Roman wasn’t exactly bragging about recognizing him or saying anything weird. Just pointing it out, which meant his only choice was to shrug and say, “Yeah. That’s me.” He didn’t want to say that he was glad Roman hadn’t recognized him, but he was. “It’s fine though. I’m--” 

He stopped there. What he was was a pathetic mess who had barely gotten out of bed. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m not a pudgy little kid anymore, and I haven’t showered in...” He stopped again. He couldn’t possibly finish that sentence. It was too embarrassing. “Anyway. Uh.” He slid into the car as gracefully as he could manage, entire pizza in hand, before he realized the other problem with this plan. “Is it ok if I eat in here? I just need a piece and I promise not to get anything on your car.”

“That’s cool,” Benji answered, feeling dumb about his question. Of course it was acting. It was usually acting. “I mean, not the part that’s not going well. But, uh, that’s the biz, right?” He knew it seemed weird but it wasn’t like he’d been in anything meaningful since he was, what? Fifteen when the show ended? “But you’ve gotta  love it, right? There’s nothing else like it. That’s why we’re all here, stupid as it is.”

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geun laughed, which sent a stabbing pain through his side. “don’t worry, it’s fine.” he said softly. english was taking a lot of focus for him at the moment but that was good in a way because it kept him awake and geun vaguely remembered that staying conscious was usually important until the doctors could get to you. or well the doctors at the hospital at least.

“gun ihm.” geun corrected gently. “the ‘y’ is si–아, 씨발!” geun cut himself off from the sudden sting in his side. he could tell that some kind fo antiseptic was involved so he assumed that the paramedic was cleaning the stab wound as best he could. probably trying to remove any of the gravel or dirt or grass that may have gotten stuck there. that didn’t mean it felt particularly good in the moment even it was necessary. “the y is silent. and geun like a gun…” he said once he could actually remember enough english to string together his previous thought.

“korean fan.” geun said. or at least he had to assume the man was korean judging by the way he’d ranted and raved at geun in that language. “didn’t want me to leave the doosan bears.” at least that’s what geun had managed to pick up from the situation but it was hard to tell because he’d been scared for his life so it was hard to focus exactly on the why. he supposed that he was just lucky whoever had stabbed him had freaked out and ran away instead of trying to go after him more.

Danny’s lip curved into a small smile despite how they were feeling. But again, they were trying very hard to focus on how Geun was probably feeling, which they had to imagine was pretty bad. After all, they hadn’t been stabbed, and they hurt for no reason, so Geun must be in excruciating pain. “Thanks, uh, sorry. I feel like the radio announcers always say it different each game, and the TV guys--”

“TV guys are idiots,” Johnny called out, unhelpfully, from the driver’s seat. Nic’s head tilted half a degree to the side, which was probably his way of agreeing. Or disagreeing, it was really hard to tell.

“Gun Im,” Danny repeated, telling themself they’d remember even though they rarely trusted themself to remember much of anything. So, they would have to practice. Was that weird? Practicing someone’s name so they could watch that person play a game? It was probably weird. “Is that Korean for ‘ouch’ or for ‘don’t do that’ because, uh, we do need to make sure and stuff.” Make sure of what, they didn’t actually know, but the start of their EMT training was all about checking in with the patient, and here, Geun was the patient. 

At the word fan, Danny and Nic both looked up, catching each other’s eyes for just a second before they both turned back to the stab. Johnny wheeled his head around, glancing at both of them before the need to keep his eyes on the road took over. They had to be close to the hospital now, but Danny couldn’t help but feel like they needed to say and hear more. Well, they couldn’t help but feel that when they weren’t feeling their weird mystery gut pain. “Fan? A fan did this to you?” A flash of anger--not a feeling Danny usually dealt in--shot through them. What kind of fan hurt another person, let alone the person they claimed to love? That was messed up. They had another question to ask but another pain burned a hole in their side, and the swallowed a curse of their own. Nic was pressing against the wound again, but his eyes were on them again, and he almost smirked as he shifted Geun’s side again, and then Danny did let out that string of swears. “Fucking shit-faced fuck,” he answered.

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hyunho’s face twisted slightly at that. a good dude. he thought he might’ve believed that once. but now? he didn’t know. he was pretty sure that good people didn’t find themselves in these kinds of situations. was pretty sure that good people didn’t fantasize about running away from their apartment where they lived with their significant other. “oh, well. thank you.” he said not sure what else to say. because he definitely wasn’t ‘a good dude’.

hyunho felt equal parts nervous and bad. oliver was just attempting to be a good neighbor and hyunho wasn’t exactly making it very easy. but he didn’t know what he’d do if his boyfriend happened to wake up. he didn’t really want to turn oliver away either. which left him at a strange impasse.

steeling himself against whatever reaction oliver might have to the swollen side of his face hyunho finally met his neighbor’s eyes. “no.” he said, surprised that his voice didn’t come out shaky. “no, it’s fine, i’ve been rude. please come in.” he moved to the side to open the door a little wider so oliver could come in. he’d just deal with noah later if it came to that.

Oliver had seen a shiner or two in his day. Hell, he’d had a shiner or two in his day. He wouldn’t even say all of them were undeserved. But the second his neighbor lifted his head, Oliver knew a few things for certain. First, that it’d bruise, nothing terrible, but a little purple at least. Second, that it sure as heck wasn’t deserved. People who deserved to get hit rarely hid when it happened, and he would know. Third, that he wasn’t going to mince words about it. “Damn. That hurt?” he asked, nodding his head vaguely toward the cheek. Tact had never been his skill, so he figured, why not just go with blunt truth.

Cautious, Oliver took a step or two inside. Again, he was disappointed by the room. There was nothing wrong with it, but he felt like, with all the stuff he’d heard from his own living room, it didn’t seem right that the place should look so much like his own. Still, he wasn’t raised in a barn; he had manners. “Nice,” he said quietly, hoping Hyunho took it to mean any part of the apartment he liked. All of it was fine. 

“So, uh.” He floundered for a second, unable to think of a topic of conversation besides ‘does your boyfriend do that a lot?’ He tapped one hand on the other, finally meeting Hyunho’s gaze when he thought of something. “I’m new. Which, uh, I guess I mentioned. You been here long?”

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geun wasn’t sure how these things always seemed to happen to him. bad luck was the only luck that he ever seemed to have. and now that he’d actually managed to get a spot on an american baseball team he went and got stabbed. although really it wasn’t his fault. geun was aware that there were quite a few fans who were unhappy with him moving to an american team. he didn’t think any of them would’ve been unhappy enough to follow him to america, let alone pull a knife and stab him. but that was exactly what had happened.

and it hurt. a lot. he was glad that the emts who were working on didn’t appear to know korean because the volume of impolite words and phrases that were coming out of his mouth was probably making his grandmother roll over in her grave. he didn’t have much concept of what was happening until after he was in the back of the ambulance. the pain was somewhat bearable – or maybe he’d just gone numb to it at some point geun couldn’t really tell.

he vaguely noticed that the other emt with him seemed to be in some kind of discomfort himself but it didn’t really register in his head solidly. the fact that he brought up baseball did, however. trying to find the english to confirm was hard in his current state though, so it took him a while to respond. “two doubles…and a triple.” he said. he wasn’t usually as good at bat as he had been yesterday but of course after his good luck he’d get hit with something like this.

Despite the fact that he felt like his gut was trying to turn itself inside out, Danny could remember the guy’s name and number, as clear as if he was looking at a team roster. How’s that for useless? “Sorry,” he answered, breathing through the last wave so he could talk as well as he could. “I fell asleep before the seventh,” he admitted. Nic glanced up, communicating in that nonverbal way he always did. “This is G--shoot,” he sucked in his lip. “I’m gonna butcher your name. Sorry about that. Fans--ugh--” He squeezed the seat, knuckles going white. Nic’s eyebrow cocked. “Fans call him Geun. Yim.”

“Yim?” Nic repeated. He pushed the guy’s hand away, and it stung. Well, the guy didn’t sting. Or maybe it did sting. But Danny stung, bad. Really bad. Nic began to do something with gauze, probably putting pressure on the wound or cleaning it or something. He stared at it for a moment, and then up at Danny. Specifically, Danny’s side, where his hand was still clutched. He wasn’t exactly a chatty guy, Nic. Prone to stretches of silence. Danny nodded. Nic looked meaningfully to the injury, which Danny thought he understood.

“Uh, how’d you end up getting stabbed?” he asked, turning his attention from Nic doing whatever he was doing to the guy’s face. It looked like, well, like he was in pain, a lot of pain, and Danny felt stupid for worrying so much about his mystery stomach issue when a man has been stabbed. The call they received was just that there had been a stabbing, no details, but whatever it was couldn’t exactly be good news. No one stabs a guy because they just love him so much. But he’d only been in the states a short time, if he remembered right. It was probably just a mugging or something. 

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@siimplicte

Danny was in the zone tonight. Clearheaded. Totally ready to get this person from wherever they got stabbed to the hospital. That was, until they got to the scene. Then, suddenly, everything fell apart. First, they were grabbing a few supplies and hopping off the rig to approach the guy, and then suddenly they were doubled over, near-nauseous in pain. “Really, man?” Johnny asked, voice teasing. “There’s not even that much blood.”

Danny tried to sit up to tell Johnny to screw off, or focus on saving the victim, whichever, but when they tried to open their mouth, they felt another wave of pain, burning a hole through where their apendectomy scar was, and fell to their knees. It was excruciating. One hand holding their side, they dropped the other to the ground, supporting their weight as they looked at the victim. He seemed familiar somehow. And the spot he was clutching--well, that was too weird to be coincidence, right?

The next few minutes were a blur. Nic handled things, in that Nic-ish way, with him and Johnny scooping the guy up onto a stretcher and into the back of the rig. Danny stumbled to the driver’s seat, and nearly made it in before another wave hit. “For Chrissake,” Johnny grumbled, pushing him harder-than-necessary aside. “I’ll drive. You sit in the back with Nic and don’t ruin anything.”

Truth be told, even if Danny had had something to say about that, they wouldn’t have been able to say it in their current state, so instead, they climbed up into the back of the rig, leaving space for Nic to do his best to patch the guy up. As they made their way to the hospital, they managed to get control of themself enough to assess the damage. It was bad, but not life-threatening from what they could tell. And the guy seemed to be doing his best. But Johnny always spoke to the passengers. Said it made them feel better and also kept them from passing out. So that’s what Danny did, since everyone knew Nic wasn’t gonna. “Uh, hi. I’m--” he wheezed as something in that spot shifted, sending another bolt through his abdomen. “Danny. What’s your--you hit two doubles yesterday?” he said, suddenly sitting up. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt because it did. Tremendously. But knowing why that face look familiar was almost worth it. Almost. 

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roman often had trouble trying to convey exactly how he felt. silence was more his style. he knew that meant his continued silence on anything could be taken whatever which way someone wanted but when he tried to speak up it became hard to lay his thoughts out on the table in a fashion that was understandable to anyone but him. he did much better if he had the time to sit down and write out his thoughts. the problem was that he couldn’t really do that every time he wanted to have a conversation.

it was nice to just let benji fill the silence for him. although he did sometimes wonder if he should contribute more even when he wasn’t sure what to say. he couldn’t tell what was happening in benji’s brain sometimes but he worried that he gave the wrong impression when he didn’t speak up.

“yeah, my attention span is out the window today.” roman said figuring that the was the best excuse he could offer for now. he didn’t want to just drop everything he was feeling at the moment on benji’s lap. he’d just broken up with someone after all – it’d be unfair to try and chain him down or create any sort of expectation. “i hope that you get the role. i’m sure you gave a good performance.” roman said with a small smile. “and yes but i think i may have bungled it a bit.”

Benji knew what that was like. Lord, did he know what that was like. Normally, he could keep a monologue going, either in or out of character, for as long as he needed to, even with distractions. Far from having attention problems, Benji was normally hyper-focused, great at holding onto a train of thought. That all fell apart around Roman sometimes, though. Benji would look at him and his mind would just go blank, filled with simply the thought that Roman was literally perfect and that Benji should probably just quit everything and go back to sulking in his room, and give up on talking all together. He had that thought and it stopped him in the middle of conversation, and then Roman would get confused, and then Benji would get shy. It happened enough for him to know the little cycle he went through.

So he smiled when Roman said he was having attention problems, and nodded. “Yeah, I get that,” he admitted, taking the salt and pepper to the table and only reconsidering his words after he spoke them. “Not that you have attention problems. I just meant that it happens to me too,” he clarified, a little too quickly. He sighed, shaking his head. Why was talking to him so easy and so hard at the same time? It didn’t seem fair or right.

But if he started obsessing about that again, he’d never be able to hold onto a conversation. Benji filed that, too, into the worry-about-later part of his mind, bringing himself back to the moment. “Me too,” he said softly. It had been a while since he actually wanted a part like this; it’d be nice to be working again. “What happened? Even bad auditions don’t usually go as bad as you think, at least not unless you do something super embarrassing.” He hoped that was comforting. It comforted him, sometimes.

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the thing about it was that as much as she was wasting his money and mooching of his things june wasn’t entirely sure that he’d blame her. he’d never really struggled with, well anything money related. he had more than enough of it, it wasn’t like a hotel bill that was slightly higher than average would bankrupt him. there was only so mad that he could be. he was a little more angry at the hotel staff than he was at her. “and they let you in with only that?” june made a mental note to get reservations elsewhere next time.

he kept his arms crossed over his chest, unimpressed look firmly in place as she tried to wiggle her way out of trouble. he probably should call the cops. that was what one did in these situations. the was this girl was no bigger than a minute and most of that was probably her hair. so unless she was hiding a black belt somewhere it was fairly safe to assume that she wouldn’t pose too much of a physical threat. calling the cops just seemed like overkill for what was essentially a homeless girl looking for some shelter.

“i’ll make you a deal.” june said eventually. it sounded crazy – he didn’t really know anyone else who would even entertain it. but maybe he was a little bit desperate. “i won’t call the cops on you and you can stay the night here but only if you help me out with something.” he said. granted it would be a little awkward, but there was a sofa here. june could take that and let her enjoy the king-sized bed. however, there was every chance that she was going to turn down his idea purely on the grounds that she didn’t know him from adam.

Maia withdrew her hand slowly, squinting up at the man. Yeah, he was pissed, and he was still in the way of her escape, folding his arms in that way that she was pretty sure guys did to make their biceps look bigger. It worked for him, unfortunately. She huffed a sigh at his question, wondering why that was the part that bothered him. “Fine, I may have flashed them a little--” She cut herself off there, using the hand he’d rejected to gesture at her (covered up) cleavage. “And there may have been a couple tears. But tasteful! I made the whole thing seem like it was my fault. I swear. You look like the hero of my 5-minute story.”

She figured any further details than that were not going to help her so she moved on to the more unusual business of his offer. See, it was like this: she’d been around the block enough times to know what it meant when a guy offered her a warm bed on one condition, and since he did technically find her, naked, lying in his bed, she guessed she couldn’t me too mad about that. Even if she was completely decent with the robe on. “I’m not a hooker,” she answered, more frustrated than anything else. “So if that was what you’re gonna ask, forget it.”

But on the other hand... He was not-awful looking, except for the whole pissed-off-ness, and he was tall and doing the biceps thing, so she doubted he needed hookers. “But if it’s not that, I can consider it.” If she was being honest--and Maia liked to think she was honest with herself, at least--she’d probably accept it as long as it wasn’t whoring. Her clothes were still drip-drying, and if he kicked her out, he’d probably want the robe back, and it was going to be cold tonight. Too cold to be out in wet clothing. So, yeah, whatever it was, she wasn’t above it. But he didn’t need to know that yet.

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roman liked listening to benji talk shop. especially when he was excited about the role. mostly he liked seeing benji all lit up and actually looking like he was enjoying himself rather than sad and trying to distract himself. there was just something about the way his eyes would light up that roman couldn’t help but adore. and of course they both shared an interest in acting so that was also a plus.

“no, no you’re fine. you don’t have anything on you.” roman said quickly waving away benji’s concern. truthfully even when benji was having a bad day and looking like he’d been dragged through the wringer he was still good-looking to roman. but then again maybe that was just a sign of how far gone roman really was. because despite the slow nature of their relationship roman was pretty sure that he’d started falling for benji after just that one night of driving around town in his car.

“go ahead, though. i want to hear what you have to say. i’m just…” roman didn’t know what to say. daydreaming? maybe a little smitten. even lovestruck if he wanted to use that word. none of them were quite right – well, lovestruck was accurate but roman was going to keep that bit to himself for a while longer. he wanted to actually build a tangible relationship and that took time and effort.

Sometimes--maybe more often than he wanted to admit--Benji wondered what Roman got out of this. Their time together, that was. He knew why he was always asking Roman if he could hang out, texting him at odd hours, sometimes opening up the Domino’s app like the loser he was when he couldn’t muster up the energy to actually start a conversation. Anyone with eyes, or ears, or a brain would want to hang out with Roman. It wasn’t that Roman was flawless in that annoying way where you are forced to like someone because you couldn’t find a good reason not to, either. Roman was more than likable--he was impossible not to like. A good listener, and kind, and funny, and handsome? Jeez. It wasn’t even fair.

But the other way around? Sometimes Benji did wonder. Did he like listening? Or just get bored? Or not actually like it at all, and tolerate him for some super secret evil reason?Whatever it was, Benji knew not to question good things that happened to him. If they were going to last, questions might ruin them, and if they weren’t, he could wait to ask until the good thing ended. That was how it had been with relationships, anyway.

And, yeah, it was dangerous to think about Roman and the word “relationship” in the same sentence, but could yo blame him? He shook his head, promising to beat himself up about this later. As in, not now. “Just lost in your own thoughts?” he answered, only after a small, awkward pause. “Me too. I was just saying that...” What had he been saying? God, he couldn’t remember. Something about the role. “It was just an audition but I have a good feeling. Not to jinx it or anything but I actually read pretty well.” He shook his head again, sliding a serving of eggs and a biscuit onto the plate. “How about you? Any auditions lately?”

[d--plots]

@dcvvnbrcck continued from here

Getting over Ryan had seemed impossible for a damn long time. In the 8 months they’d been together, he’d somehow managed to completely fill Benji’s time. And when he’d left, Benji couldn’t imagine going anywhere they used to go together alone, and that meant that he couldn’t go anywhere. Even his guest room was ruined. The only spaces that had been safe were the bathroom, the bedroom, and the living room, though of course the couch was a hard no. And then he’d met Roman, and the outside world didn’t seem so scary.

He was still working on sitting on his own couch without feeling like he was going to die alone, but the kitchen wasn’t so bad. He could be in here as long as he was busy, and it was about damn time he brought Roman food for once. He was just about finished with his eggs, the biscuits out of the oven, chattering away the whole time at Roman about some role he was actually excited for, for once, when he noticed the man just staring at him. 

“It’s fine,” he answered, waving off Roman’s apology. “I was just, y’know, being chatty.” He pulled the biscuits out, sighing at the smell. They never came out like the ones back home, but they’d be pretty good, he had to admit. “Everything okay? I don’t have something on me or anything, do I?” For once, Roman coming over meant he had cleaned--not just the apartment but himself and his clothes. He actually thought he looked pretty good today, and while things in the kitchen weren’t spotless, Roman might actually believe that Benji was capable of more than ordering pizza and sulking.

[d--plots]

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june typically didn’t like spending a lot of time in hotels. if he was going to travel he preferred to be out actually doing things. however, this trip was business – one of those trips that his parents didn’t want to make themselves but couldn’t afford to just not go to at all. june always hated that he went on these trips for them – like he was some kind of obedient lapdog. so maybe cancelling his meetings for today had been rather childish and impulsive but june was nothing if not childish and impulsive.

what he didn’t expect upon returning to his hotel room was the news that his “wife” was waiting for him and she felt bad about their fight. the one problem being that june wasn’t married and had never been married. he didn’t say anything to the eager concierge who informed him about it, a little bit pissed off that the hotel would just let whoever into his room if they came up with a convincing story. so when he opened the door to his room he wasn’t shocked to see a woman in one of the hotel robes on his bed.

he was however a little angry to see her so blatantly taking his shit. “i just got here of course i wouldn’t be using the bathroom.” june said frostily. he closed the room door then resting his back against it purposefully. june actually had the seeds of an idea beginning to form in his mind – maybe he wanted to scare this thief a little bit but overall she might be…useful. “mind telling me when we got married? because so far as i know i’m still a single man.”

It wasn’t that she was unaware of danger. Maia felt--too keenly--the moment he leaned himself against the door, six foot of pissed-off blocking her from the only exit, and here she was, while all her clothes drip-dried in the bathroom. She wasn’t scared, exactly, but she knew a bad situation when she saw one. Would it change her response? No. But it helped, she thought, to know it was bad. He looked less angry than she expected, now that she inspected him, peering from her perch on the bed. She put the brush down, pushing her mane over one shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m no trained actor. Our backstory is just ‘married. Fight.’ That’s as far as I got.” She wondered if it’d piss him off to use his name. He didn’t have hers, after all, and she had no intention of changing that, but she also knew better than to make him madder. There was still a half-decent chance of her pulling this off without further problems, and tomorrow--well, realistically, she’d pull the same shit again. She’d just have the concierge let her know when he was coming up so she could get out first, wet clothes or no.

That was, if she could get out without him calling the cops. A night in jail would probably be warmer than the street, but she was trying to keep her record small. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have lied to them. I probably ruined your chance with whatever girl you intended to bring up tonight. Or guy--no judgement.” She put her hands up, a small smile on her face. “I was just looking for a hot shower, maybe a bed for a nap. And I got, like, half of that, so if you just let me get dressed, I’ll get out of your way and you’ll never see me again and this can be a whacky story you tell your friends or whatever. We good?” As she spoke, she got off the bed, approaching him slowly, keeping hands up in obvious surrender. She reached him just as she finished her little speech, and to punctuate it, she put one hand out to shake. 

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for some reason hyunho didn’t really want oliver to go. despite the fact he knew if noah were to wake up and find oliver anywhere near him it wouldn’t end prettily. but oliver was really the first person who actually seemed to care about what was happening or had happened. it was nice. it was nice to feel like someone actually gave a shit for once. he pushed his glasses back up his nose wondering when his life had turned out like this. he knew there was a period when noah hadn’t been like this – when he’d genuinely actually liked his boyfriend and wasn’t afraid of breaking a fucking plate in his presence.

“yeah.” he agreed. it wasn’t like he could really lie. oliver had already heard them fighting. “it’s fine. it’s usually my fault anyway.” excuses – hyunho was good at those he didn’t know when he had gotten so good. he didn’t know when they started coming so easily. probably around the time when noah had stopped looking like prince charming. but it was hard to pin down a specific time.

a creak sounded from somewhere in the back of the apartment and hyunho immediately stiffened almost unconsciously holding his breath. he was ready to slam the door in oliver’s face if he had to. but there was no accompanying noises of the door opening or the bathroom sink turning on…nothing – so maybe noah actually was asleep. funny that he’d be able to sleep after that fight but then fighting never seemed to bother him as much as it did hyunho.

Oliver was no expert on relationships--far, far from it. But his sister had been in and out of so many relationships that he could remember some bad news when he head it. And the biggest warning side he could possibly think of was, it’s usually my fault. Especially when most of the fights he heard the other voice starting first. It was like a warning light going off in the words Hyunho was saying.

It left Oliver torn again, now with even more worries. Did he mind his own business, stay out of it, stay--probably--safe? Did he stay and try to help? Or would trying to help make things worse? God, this sucked. He wasn’t one for dilemmas. They intimidated him, left him with that anxious feeling that any choice was the wrong one. “I doubt that,” he did say, knowing full-well the man wouldn’t believe him regardless. “You seem like a good dude.”

There was something still bugging him about the fact that Hyunho wouldn’t look him in the eye either. It didn’t feel quite right. “And, uh, I don’t want to be a burden, and it’s getting kinda late so I’d understand if you wanted me to go.” It wasn’t, in fact, all that late, but the words took some of the pressure off him. If the other man wanted him gone, he could certainly say so now, and he figured, if he heard more fighting, he could go on back up if he had to.

[d--plots]

@dcvvnbrcck

So, the plan was perfect. Maia had watched in the lobby for a solid hour, trying to decide whose room to bust into, and when she saw him leave, he was on his phone a lot, so she figured he was probably someone important or something. Whatever. The point was, the guy wasn’t coming back in the middle of the day to his hotel room, which made it the perfect room to choose. The next few parts were easy. She popped the top two buttons of her blouse--normally, it made her feel cheap, but she’d never forget what Janice had told her about men losing their brains when they saw a bit of skin--and made sure to wait for the male concierge to be available. A few tears, a bullshit story about a fight and her kicking him out, and bam! One suite key.

When she got to the room, she didn’t bother with his shit. Sometimes, she’d steal a few singles, but today, she only had one thing on her mind: a hot shower. She’d considered a bath too, but there was something special about the spray feeling when she felt so grimy. Maybe, if she got in and out fast enough, she’d come back tomorrow for the tub. She washed herself first, taking her time, before stripping down, grabbing one of the complimentary robes, and filling the tub with cold water to wash her clothes in. It was no washing machine, but it would get the worst of the smells and stains out. 

It was while she was lying on the massive bed, brushing her hair just to enjoy the feeling of it and enjoying one of those little mints they leave on the pillows when the door popped open and the guy walked in. He looked furious, so, naturally, the first thing out of Maia’s mouth was, “I can explain.” Followed shortly by, “And, before you get mad, you weren’t even using that bathroom.” So, yeah. Perfect plan. Mostly.

[d--plots]

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trying to keep his face angled away from oliver was slightly difficult. but hyunho didn’t want to cause a scene. although there was a very tiny part of him that wanted to just run away it was more than drowned out by the fear of what noah might do to him if he tried to leave. hyunho had never really thought of himself as small until he met noah – and it had nothing to do with their heights even though noah was quite a bit taller and broader than hyunho. “oh no it’s not…i didn’t think…” hyunho looked at the ground.

he was usually pretty good with his words. but tonight every single word in his vocabulary was failing him. he didn’t know if it was the shock from being hit or just the leftover bad feeling in his gut because of the fight or both. it was probably a little of column and little of column b. he shifted slightly not sure what else to say. he didn’t really want to chase oliver away but he also didn’t like the idea of noah finding out that oliver was there. one blow-up was more than enough for hyunho.

“i don’t know….noah might get angry.” he was really talking to his feet more than anything now. but he really didn’t want to look his neighbor in the eye. he knew of course there was only so long that he could keep his head turned away before oliver caught on that he was trying to hide something. he should’ve just kept the door shut…

“Okay, good, yeah, ‘cause I’m not. I’m cool with whatever.” Oliver was aware that that was exactly what a homophobe might say, but he just wanted to make the guy feel comfortable. He wasn’t exactly good at reading people but even he could tell the guy could use a little comfort. There was something about the way he had his eyes fixed on the ground even though his glasses were slipping down, or the way his shoulders folded in. It just looked like the kind of thing where the other person could use some comfortable-ness. 

That Noah might get angry was an understatement, if the yelling from above him was any indication. It always started the same way after all: silence, and then the voice that didn’t belong to the man in front of him, roaring and biting. Oliver was not a person with much of an imagination, but the facts were easy enough to follow in this case. “Uh, yeah, I noticed, what with all the noise and stuff.” He didn’t mean to be a jerk, but he’d heard more than enough to have formed at least a few opinions on the situation. “It seems like--”

This time, his sister’s words popped into his head again and he tried to heed them. It was too late to not bother anyone at all, but he could keep himself from sharing his opinions “It seems like he gets mad a lot, huh,” he said instead. “But, hey, I don’t want to get you in trouble.” He was talking to the top of Hyunho’s head at this point, which only made him more curious. Didn’t explain anything, either.

[d--plots]

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rory never knew exactly what the tattoo artist used his flowers for he assumed it must be for some kind of mourning ritual. it wasn’t really rory’s place to question what his customers did with their flowers, though. but rory was used to seeing their face everyday and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about what they were doing with the flowers. he was a little surprised when they answered that they weren’t interested in a flower tonight. “oh yeah, it’s later than usual.” he agreed. “i had a late delivery to do today so i got a little behind.” he explained a little sheepishly. rory always felt bad when he came up short on things – pun definitely not intended – and getting behind was one of those things he didn’t take much pride in.

Closing late was the worst. It was a special kind of miserable. Watching the time after the regular closing time tick on the clock. Seeing other stores go dark. Having the realization that they were going to get home late. Knowing Gus was going to be mad at them for being late. “Oh, sorry. Sounds really frustrating.” They turned their engine off, kicking the kickstand and pulling off their helmet. “Do you need help? I don’t mind.” They had to admit, they liked the florist and didn’t just want to leave him out to dry. Besides, Gus was going to be mad no matter what. He was a cranky little butt. Helping out their neighbor was a better plan.