synopsis the seasons weren't kind to seonghyeon - neither was the loss of his first love, implied bi!reader genre angst wc 1.6k an depression, heartbreak, lil something while i finish my long ass drafts (Ëśáľ áľ áľËś)
summer was easy.
the cool breeze rustled the palms as they lined the coast. the sun was warm, the sand was scalding, the ocean was glistening and unforgiving. there, under the shade of his umbrella, seonghyeonâs fingers brushed against yours before he clasped your hand in his. your head turned towards him slowly, carefully. he was already watching you with a small smile curling at the corners of his lips.
âi love you,â he whispered. you giggled, but you never replied.
he always thought love was easy, especially since he had you. he loved quietly yet so deeply, he wondered if it was normal to love someone more than himself. he'd write you notes and leave them around your house when you weren't looking. they'd worship every part of you; your smile, your creativeness, your eyes - things he'd be too shy to say out loud. he'd send you songs that reminded you of him, he'd write lengthy analyses on old romance movies over text, and when you couldnât sleep, youâd spend your nights reading them.
you raced him down to the water, shouting teasing remarks with no bite behind them. one thing about seonghyeon, was that he was overly competitive. you could always see that flame flicker in his eyes. so when you were just feet away from where the waves lapped at the shore, he tackled you mercilessly into the water. you yelped as you both crashed into the wet sand with a thud. you stared at him with wide eyes, as the salty water slapped across your bodies. a smack landed on his shoulder and soon the water was being flicked into the air angrily. you laughed until it hurt, and he smiled until he couldn't feel his face. he managed to dodge your attacks to sweep you off your feet, and he carried you into deeper water until it was cold around his ankles. you flailed aimlessly as you shouted warnings. he acted like he couldn't hear you, just nodding along to your threats, and ungracefully tossed you into the water. what he didn't expect, was your hand dragging him down with you with an unceremonious plunge.
he never wanted that day to end.
but then autumn came, and brought a time of change. the old leaves dried out, then fell to the ground to be forgotten.
he learnt that the hard way.
he tried to convince himself that it wasn't happening, that you didn't look at him like you looked at the ground. that you weren't backing out of his life.
seonghyeon watched the way you looked at that other girl. how your eyes would trace the curve of her waist, how you would linger around her more often, how you'd lean too close and whisper into her ear. he told himself that, if he was secure, he shouldn't care about you with another girl. then, he started picking up her habits like he was subconsciously trying to emulate her just to get you to look at him when he spoke. he stopped writing you notes, he stopped pouring his heart out over text in the middle of the night, and he tried to love you the way that she did. he'd card his fingers through your hair and he'd kiss your neck, but you'd always pull away like he burned you. you didnât even act like you wanted him around. like over night, he had become another object standing in your way.
it tore him to pieces.
was he not what you wanted? should he have done more? he wouldâve done anything to change, just say the word and heâd drop everything for you.
you stormed into his room one day, screaming something about jealousy and breaking up. in some ways, you had a point. but he really wasn't listening this time, he knew it was over the moment he caught you staring at her. now he watched you with empty eyes, wondering if heâd ever hear you say you loved him too.
you slammed the door behind you, with a frustrated yell.
its was then, with tantalising clarity, he realised he never would.
winter was dormancy. when his clock threatened to stop ticking. he was buried in his own emotions so heavily that it was hard to see the light. he was mourning his first love, while you were out there with your new thing and staying up all night like there was nothing to worry about. he laid out on the floor when his body gave up on him. he felt the frigid air sweep through the cracks in the windows. it creep under his skin and sent a shiver up his spine. he knew he was slowly deteriorating, but he was too exhausted to care.
jealousy was an ugly feeling. it was an angry, untrusting voice in his mind that questioned everything and broke his trust entirely. but this wasn't just jealousy anymore. it was something worse - guilt. it manifested deep in his gut, it crushed the air out of his lungs, it made his heart ache until he lost every ounce of energy. guilt taunted him everywhere he went, until his motivation to do simple things like washing his face ran out. he'd rather be slumped over on the floor, wishing for summer to return so he could feel the sun on his skin again, the sand under his feet, your hand in his.
seonghyeon hated the way his tears burned, but he couldn't stop them from coming. the pressure built behind his eyes, the feeling was unbearably heavy, like they were being pushed out of his skull. then his angry tears seared against the raw skin in the corners of his eyes.
he'd stare out the window. the snow and ice suffocated the life beneath it and he'd wonder briefly if life would be easier if he let it take him too.
spring promised new beginnings. maybe a chance at moving on.
despite the utter hopelessness he felt every time he exhaled- despite the countless hours he spent at night, staring at the ceiling, wishing he was different - he still loved you. more than he should've, more than she ever could. but sometimes, he'd wish you'd fall in love, and maybe you'd tell her that you cherished her. because at the end of the day, you deserved it.
a part of him still broke every time he saw you around, and he'd catch you glance for a split second, like apologies were on the tip of your tongue but you were too deep in this hole to ever get them off.
it was okay, he thought. you had made your choice, and if whether or not he agreed with it, he knew he had to live with it.
spring guided him into the field outside of his house. once again, he was on his back, staring upwards. but now, he could breathe easier. the birds sung beautifully, the grass wrapped around his arms, almost claiming him, while the bees hovered by the daffodils and drank their sweetness. he missed tranquillity like this, he hadn't felt it since summer.
but just like the evergreen, his love for you was everlasting, no matter how deeply you cut him. forgiving you was easier than grieving you.
summer of 1987 floated on patchouli smoke and old records playing down the block. you were an angel with soft glowy skin and kind eyes that made strangers smile back. always baking extra treats for neighbors or watering plants for busy friends. then martin drifted into your world.
martin kept sun bleached hair long to his shoulders, wore half buttoned paisley shirts, and carried sleepy hazel eyes that looked half closed most days. his beat up vw van had peace stickers peeling off and smelled like weed incense and old blankets. voice came out slow and raspy, like every word took extra effort but sounded nice anyway.
âcome here baby,â he drawled from your beanbag, guitar lazy across his lap. you giggled and went over even when friends shook their heads. âhe does not deserve someone as pretty and sweet as youâ, they warned. but his crooked smile pulled you in every single time.
you settled into his lap gentle. his arm looped loose around your waist, warm and casual. âmissed you today angel,â he mumbled into your hair. âdrove around with guys, played some music. thought about you bit.â
he didnât deserve you. not even a little.
you were the sweet one. the girl who baked cookies for the whole apartment complex, who volunteered at the animal shelter on weekends, who still wrote letters to her grandma every Sunday.
you had that soft, glowing prettinessâbig doe eyes, glossy lips, hair that always fell just right. guys at the record store tripped over themselves trying to talk to you. but you only had eyes for the lazy hippie who treated your heart like a blunt he could light up whenever he felt like it.
âliar,â you teased soft, poking his chest. âyou probably forgot until stomach started growling.â
he let out deep lazy chuckle that moved through both of you. âharsh, baby. real harsh.â still he did not argue much. just offered puff from his joint. you shook your head smiling small. he shrugged and tugged you closer, pressing slow kiss to your forehead then cheek, tasting like cherry cola and faint smoke.
kisses from him always felt hazy and slow, like nothing else mattered right then. hands rested gentle on your back or knee, light traces that made skin tingle. you knew he was total deadbeat energy.
showed up late or not at all, borrowed cash for gas or food, forgot plans half the time, slept through mornings like job interviews never existed. yet when those half lidded eyes locked on you and called you his pretty flower, everything turned soft and warm.
you two drove hills later, windows rolled down, fleetwood mac fuzzy from tape deck. martin kept one hand on wheel, other on your knee, thumb drawing lazy circles. sunset painted sky gold. his messy hair whipped around and he looked so effortlessly beautiful your chest got tight.
âyou are too good for me,â he said out of nowhere, voice low. sounded almost proud, like cute you stuck around anyway.
âi know,â you whispered, head leaning on his shoulder. no anger in it. just fact. his tattooed finger had you wrapped so tight.
he parked van high up where city lights twinkled below. climbed in back with messy blankets. martin pulled you down soft, kissing along neck light and sweet. âgod look at you,â he murmured. âso pretty. so fucking pretty. how did i get this lucky.â
fingers traced your arm and side gentle under edge of sundress, nothing pushy, just slow touches while he held you close. he liked you like this, soft and focused on him, whispering his name quiet. fed that lazy part of him that knew you would always come back.
afterward you traced freckles on his shoulders, telling him songs he wrote had real spark. he hummed and lit another joint, letting you cuddle into chest while staring at van ceiling like answers hid up there.
one evening you cooked lasagna from scratch, set candles, waited excited. martin rolled in two hours late with band buddies, all giggly and smoky. they devoured your food fast, talking loud. one guy joked, âdude how you land girl like her. way out your league.â
martin flashed arrogant lazy smirk. âwhat can i say. she obsessed with me. cannot help it.â
you slipped into kitchen so they missed your eyes watering, misty. he really did not deserve you. you covered his rent sometimes, listened to half finished lyrics for hours, made meals while he chased random vibes. deadbeat through and through, but you stayed anyway.
when buddies finally left he came up behind, arms loose around waist, lazy kisses on shoulder. âsorry, i was late flower. lost track again. you know how i get.â
âi know,â you said quiet, voice cracking little.
he turned you around and kissed slow, deep enough to make knees weak. âlet me make up tonight,â he whispered. âwanna spoil my pretty girl.â
he did. gentle hands, warm words, pulled you to couch and played guitar soft just for you. sang pieces of new song with your name mixed in, voice raspy and nice. you melted, head on his chest, feeling safe even if only for moment.
mornings he slept past noon easy. you made breakfast anyway, eggs toast with smile. he wandered out hair wild, kissed your cheek and asked to borrow car cause van acting up. you handed keys every time.
because martin kept you wrapped so good. sleepy charm, way he strummed chords and called you flower like special secret. wrote love lines about you but never finished any. loved you selfish stoner way, enough to keep you around, never enough to step up or change.
friends sighed when you defended him. âhe just needs time,â you said soft. âhe will get serious soon.â but deep you knew. deadbeat hippie boy with van and guitar, floating through days while you waited hopeful.
still you stayed. when he brought wildflowers picked from roadside and flashed crooked smile, world felt okay. when he spun you lazy in living room to crackly records, both giggling as steps mixed up. when he looked at you hazy and said you make everything better.
you stayed too pretty, too sweet, too nice for his mess. but fingers held you gentle yet firm. hippie boyfriend who did not deserve bit of your heart yet carried it anyway.
rainy afternoon kept you inside. martin lay on floor beside you, heads close, sharing headphones while grateful dead played low. his hand found yours, fingers linking lazy. âyou are my favorite thing,â he mumbled, eyes half closed. âdo not know what i would do without my girl.â
you squeezed back, heart full and hurting same time. loved this version, even unreliable and late and undeserving. summer kept going with more drives, more soft songs, more gentle kisses under stars. you stayed wrapped, smiling when he bragged about you, forgiving when plans fell through again.
in hazy moments, van parked high above lights, arm around you and music low, it felt worth every second. martin with his long blond hair and peace sign necklace, your too good for him heart beating steady next to his.
i don't understand how shit like this don't clock to some people. it is a very punishable offense to sexualise minors. in an app with minors on.
a lot of people have already started to write smut on cortis which really is inappropriate considering this whole group are minors. behaviour like this isn't acceptable so we need to set ground rules first
1. since james is a proper adult, many blogs have written smut on him the minute he turned 20 and while this is unacceptable behaviour, if you do write stuff like that, pls label your content as potentially mature content and put your stuff as more under the cut. this doesn't give anyone any validation to pull moves like this, but let this be a precautionary to those who do so. this is a compulsory rule.
2. this may be a big reach and cause controversy but for those under the age of 19 itself, please filter your settings to avoid viewing mature content as it's not only cortis, it's a bunch of other groups who may be young adult members who's smut blogs may appear in your fyp out of your knowledge but it's best to filter what you're viewing in order to control what you view and to prevent stuff like this in the future. AGAIN, this is not some way of validating any form of smut on real life idols but this is a precautionary and a notice, this rule may be optional.
3. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. IT IS NOT OKAY TO WRITE SMUT ON MINOR IDOLS. IT IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. this is not the first time ive come across a blog that's written smut about a member of cortis before they were 18-20 but blogs have already accomplished that which is truly unacceptable. and no this is not a "don't like, don't read" this is truly truly not okay, this is so out of line. this app is a safe space for art to be created and birthed which includes fiction about idols in respective communities but it is not at all acceptable to write smut or create a blog to write smut on minors in general. this is a compulsory rule.
4. there are many ai generated fics, audios, communities and blogs itself sexualising minors which should really take down their stuff. it's bad enough that so much stuff like this is being normalised but it is sadly something we can only raise awareness about as the people at fault should be the ones to change, but there is a sense of responsibility that comes with it especially while handling this app. that's why it is super important to spread the word and protect others. keep blocking and reporting accounts, bots that cross the line and over sexualise.
kpop communities are only going to keep growing. but this doesn't give any one the right abuse or shame other fandom people. and for the record, IDOLS DO NOT BELONG TO YOU NOR ARE THEY SOMETHING YOU CAN POSSES FOR YOUR OWN WISHES. THEY HAVE SEPARATE LIVES AND ARE HUMAN JUST LIKE US WHO JUST WANT TO FULFILL THEIR DREAMS AND MAKE IT BIG IN LIFE. SO STAY SUPPORTING THE IDOLS AND THE FANS.
let's all stick to these rules to make our communities a better place. we've created these spaces for a good reason, doesnt give anyone the right to go out of their limit and over sexualise minors, none of that is encouraged here.
keep spreading awareness, keep reporting and keep supporting each other and idols. let's create positive spaces for others in the fandom to interact.
synopsis the seasons weren't kind to seonghyeon - neither was the loss of his first love, implied bi!reader genre angst wc 1.6k an a lil something while i finish my long ass drafts (Ëśáľ áľ áľËś)
summer was easy.
the cool breeze rustled the palms as they lined the coast. the sun was warm, the sand was scalding, the ocean was glistening and unforgiving. there, under the shade of his umbrella, seonghyeonâs fingers brushed against yours before he clasped your hand in his. your head turned towards him slowly, carefully. he was already watching you with a small smile curling at the corners of his lips.
âi love you,â he whispered. you giggled, but you never replied.
he always thought love was easy, especially since he had you. he loved quietly yet so deeply, he wondered if it was normal to love someone more than himself. he'd write you notes and leave them around your house when you weren't looking. they'd worship every part of you; your smile, your creativeness, your eyes - things he'd be too shy to say out loud. he'd send you songs that reminded you of him, he'd write lengthy analyses on old romance movies over text, and when you couldnât sleep, youâd spend your nights reading them.
you raced him down to the water, shouting teasing remarks with no bite behind them. one thing about seonghyeon, was that he was overly competitive. you could always see that flame flicker in his eyes. so when you were just feet away from where the waves lapped at the shore, he tackled you mercilessly into the water. you yelped as you both crashed into the wet sand with a thud. you stared at him with wide eyes, as the salty water slapped across your bodies. a smack landed on his shoulder and soon the water was being flicked into the air angrily. you laughed until it hurt, and he smiled until he couldn't feel his face. he managed to dodge your attacks to sweep you off your feet, and he carried you into deeper water until it was cold around his ankles. you flailed aimlessly as you shouted warnings. he acted like he couldn't hear you, just nodding along to your threats, and ungracefully tossed you into the water. what he didn't expect, was your hand dragging him down with you with an unceremonious plunge.
he never wanted that day to end.
but then autumn came, and brought a time of change. the old leaves dried out, then fell to the ground to be forgotten.
he learnt that the hard way.
he tried to convince himself that it wasn't happening, that you didn't look at him like you looked at the ground. that you weren't backing out of his life.
seonghyeon watched the way you looked at that other girl. how your eyes would trace the curve of her waist, how you would linger around her more often, how you'd lean too close and whisper into her ear. he told himself that, if he was secure, he shouldn't care about you with another girl. then, he started picking up her habits like he was subconsciously trying to emulate her just to get you to look at him when he spoke. he stopped writing you notes, he stopped pouring his heart out over text in the middle of the night, and he tried to love you the way that she did. he'd card his fingers through your hair and he'd kiss your neck, but you'd always pull away like he burned you. you didnât even act like you wanted him around. like over night, he had become another object standing in your way.
it tore him to pieces.
was he not what you wanted? should he have done more? he wouldâve done anything to change, just say the word and heâd drop everything for you.
you stormed into his room one day, screaming something about jealousy and breaking up. in some ways, you had a point. but he really wasn't listening this time, he knew it was over the moment he caught you staring at her. now he watched you with empty eyes, wondering if heâd ever hear you say you loved him too.
you slammed the door behind you, with a frustrated yell.
its was then, with tantalising clarity, he realised he never would.
winter was dormancy. when his clock threatened to stop ticking. he was buried in his own emotions so heavily that it was hard to see the light. he was mourning his first love, while you were out there with your new thing and staying up all night like there was nothing to worry about. he laid out on the floor when his body gave up on him. he felt the frigid air sweep through the cracks in the windows. it creep under his skin and sent a shiver up his spine. he knew he was slowly deteriorating, but he was too exhausted to care.
jealousy was an ugly feeling. it was an angry, untrusting voice in his mind that questioned everything and broke his trust entirely. but this wasn't just jealousy anymore. it was something worse - guilt. it manifested deep in his gut, it crushed the air out of his lungs, it made his heart ache until he lost every ounce of energy. guilt taunted him everywhere he went, until his motivation to do simple things like washing his face ran out. he'd rather be slumped over on the floor, wishing for summer to return so he could feel the sun on his skin again, the sand under his feet, your hand in his.
seonghyeon hated the way his tears burned, but he couldn't stop them from coming. the pressure built behind his eyes, the feeling was unbearably heavy, like they were being pushed out of his skull. then his angry tears seared against the raw skin in the corners of his eyes.
he'd stare out the window. the snow and ice suffocated the life beneath it and he'd wonder briefly if life would be easier if he let it take him too.
spring promised new beginnings. maybe a chance at moving on.
despite the utter hopelessness he felt every time he exhaled- despite the countless hours he spent at night, staring at the ceiling, wishing he was different - he still loved you. more than he should've, more than she ever could. but sometimes, he'd wish you'd fall in love, and maybe you'd tell her that you cherished her. because at the end of the day, you deserved it.
a part of him still broke every time he saw you around, and he'd catch you glance for a split second, like apologies were on the tip of your tongue but you were too deep in this hole to ever get them off.
it was okay, he thought. you had made your choice, and if whether or not he agreed with it, he knew he had to live with it.
spring guided him into the field outside of his house. once again, he was on his back, staring upwards. but now, he could breathe easier. the birds sung beautifully, the grass wrapped around his arms, almost claiming him, while the bees hovered by the daffodils and drank their sweetness. he missed tranquillity like this, he hadn't felt it since summer.
but just like the evergreen, his love for you was everlasting, no matter how deeply you cut him. forgiving you was easier than grieving you.
synopsis: ĚĚâ martin falls for the girl behind the register, but it was more like he was staring into the mouth of an open grave and stepping in willingly genre: ĚĚâ fluff , thriller word count: ĚĚâ 4.4k
author notes: ĚĚâ martin jus wants someone , a little dark at the end , toxic relationship themes , manipulation , mentions of gore (nothing explicit obv) , mild body horror
the corner store's door slid open begrudgingly, as a contrastingly pleasant ping sounded above.
some over-played pop song crackled softly through the aging speakers.
"cool hair," said the girl behind the register.
martin's head jerked towards the sound, the sudden attention catching him off guard. under your steady gaze, his breath hitched and snagged in his throat like live wire. he didn't even notice your manager watching from the doorway behind you. martin's fingers subconsciously slithered up to the blonde-ish strands forming spikes on his head, as a smile forced its way onto his lips, like it was his equivalent of giggling and kicking his feet. he almost forgot to keep up his âcool, totally nonchalant guyâ image, his shoulders tightened and his lip quivered in its place. the mask slipped back into place clumsily and his hand crawled back into his pocket with a totally natural - and not at all rehearsed - swish.
he shyly muttered out a quick "thanks.." then, for the next couple of seconds, he wondered if his voice was always that high.
he stood in front of the fridge, as the cold air argued with his red cheeks. his eyes skipped across the many colourful options that were all competing for his attention. but the only thing he could actually focus on, was the feeling of your eyes on him. it didn't prickle on his neck, no. it felt more like red-hot lasers burning holes through his skin.
even as a new customer came and went, martin could still sense you following him.
he was so focused on not making a fool of himself, he practically blacked out. his hands were on autopilot as he reached for whatever was in front of him, not caring for the consequences of his choice in any regard.
and when he finally decided that 'casually hanging out' in the corner of the store was actually a little weird, he shuffled to the counter and placed the can onto the counter in front of you. an eyebrow raised in return, as you watched him fumble with his card with an amused smirk.
âall that wondering around just for aâŚâ your voice trails off as you scan the drink with a beep ââŚwatermelon red bull⌠interesting choice.â
once again, his breath caught in his throat. he tried to force something out, really tried, but all he could manage was an unintelligible mumble. your head gestured towards the vivid red can, the smirk only growing more prominent. he hummed a confused note, like all he was hearing right now was vowels and colours.
âiâm just teasing you,â you added, making it a point to match his bewildered gaze as he hesitantly tapped his card against the reader.
martin stared at the can, wishing it would talk back - maybe save him from his own awkwardness. but it just stared back at him with equal disinterest, sweating in the midday sun.
being the third wheel is never fun. but being the ninth wheel? thatâs just depressing. martin learned that very quickly. how could he not? his friends and their girlfriends were everywhere at all times. martinâ at his locker? theyâre chatting loudly beside him. martinâs studying in the library? someoneâs learning more than literature behind him. at lunch, heâs closed off unintentionally, sitting in his own bubble⌠staring at a red bull can.
before he could start wishing the can would ask him out so he wouldnât have to ninth wheel, a voice pulled him from his increasingly concerning thoughts.
âhow come you still donât have a girl, martin?â his friend drawled, his voice bordering on teasing. he huffed sarcastically in return, mumbling something about how heâs âjust not ready, yet.â
some people thought that â especially with his musical talent and âcharm,â he was able to sweep the girls off their feet. little did they know, martin was just as much of a loser as his friends perpetuated, and whenever he was presented with a chance, heâd embarrass himself.
martin set of the ping of the door again, as his converse squeaked through the corner store.
this time, he told himself that he would actually speak to you. no stuttering, no stalling. just a normal conversation between normal people.
that was, until, he wandered up to the register.
as soon his eyes met yours, he felt every thought leave his mind and every word died on his tongue. martin stood there, once again, staring like a deer in headlights.
you could've sworn he would've started drooling, if you hadn't snapped him out of it.
"another watermelon redbull? didn't think anyone actually liked these" you huffed, clearing the awkward tension with a flick of your hair.
martin shook his head, an embarrassed grimace spreading on his face.
"i don't-" he started, a little too quickly. "i mean, they're... alright."
before you could say anything else to make his cheeks heat up even more, he swiped his card and rushed out of the door.
martin's back hit his bedroom door dramatically, as a long sigh dragged out of his mouth.
'she definitely dosen't think i'm weird. no one does. you did great, martin.' he repeated to himself under his breath. he was totally cool.
so cool, in fact, that when he returned the next afternoon, he swaggered through the door with a new-found sense of confidence. his hands were stuffed in his jacket's pockets, his chin was perpendicular to the floor - just like every cool person.
but you weren't there. instead there was some middle-aged man with dark bags under his eyes and an even darker shadow above his lips and across his jaw. he must've been the manager, judging from the way he was logging new inventory at the register.
martin straightened up and told himself that it didn't matter... then he spun on his heels with a squeak, before the man could see him, and walked straight back out.
he made sure to come back every other day, to make sure he knew what days you worked.
everyday you weren't there, the manager stood in your place, as still as ever. as unsettling as ever.
he scribbled 'only wednesdays and thursdays' onto a sticky note, like he'd need it to remember.
every wednesday and thursday thereafter, he'd return with more confidence than the last time.
he slowly began to notice things. how your eyes lit up every time he shuffled through the store how the store's inventory never really changed, even as new items popped in and out of every other store. he noticed how your shoulders would noticeably relax, like you were comfortable enough not to use your 'highly trained, professional employee' persona.
"you changed your hair?" you commented a couple weeks later, noticing his hair wasn't carefully spiked this time. it was slightly more toned blonde and he let it fall onto his forehead and curl at his nape. he nodded, feeling a smile creep onto his face.
"yeah, you like it?" martin asked, already sensing your answer from the arch in your eyebrow. you scoffed sarcastically, "no." yet, you still reached for it and twisted it in your fingers before picking up the barcode scanner.
he hummed in amusement as he took his redbull into his hand as you handed it to him. martin added something as his eyes lingered on your name badge.
"still haven't asked for my name, you know."
you rolled your eyes, but complied anyway. martin answered with his full name promptly, smugness settling deep into his smirk. he didn't know when he got so bold, he was almost convinced that someone was taking control over his body.
"hi, martin" you greeted, his name flowing off your tongue so easily it sent a shudder through him.
----
martin joined his friends at their usual spot at the courtyard's round tables, where the sun dappled through the trees. martin was infatuated with his screen, and his friends' chatter muffled into the background of his mind. until there were suddenly a sharp crack of palms in front of his face, accompanied by a quiet, "earth to martin.."
"who could you possibly be texting." his friend, james drawled, his hands still hovering by martin's wide eyes. "come on, who's the new victim?" he pushed, his head cocking to the side with a sly smirk.
"why don't you fuck off for once, james?" he spat, with an unnatural bite that sounded too harsh to have come out of his mouth.
the table went silent.
james pulled back as his eyebrows shot upwards, clearly caught off guard by martin's sudden outburst too.
martin blinked, slowly. his mask slid back into place with a shiver. he cleared his throat when he felt the awkwardness skip across his skin. "um... just the register girl." he murmured, avoiding eye contact.
james' eyes lit up with a prideful glint, and his teasing grin returned. his hand slammed into martin's back sharply, as the rest of the group cooed at him. "look at that, one redbull, and he's a changed man! got sick of being the ninth wheel, huh?" martin laughed along dryly, still getting over his out-of-character spurt.
a moth passes by and you were still stuck in his head. especially after he kissed you under the stuttering glow of the street lamps, with his back against the cool bricks of the store. while it was fleeting and inexperienced, it was so painfully tender - you felt the heat of his breath mingle yours, and the curve of his grin linger on yours. his hands grasped tightly onto your sleeves. the rest of the night, martin was floating in a daze, he wore a lazy smile and heavily-hooded eyes.
he texted constantly - to the point where his phone screen was imprinted into his corneas. though your replies were short and punctuated, it never seemed to stop his flow of blabbering. but you didn't seem to mind anyway.
----
it was a late friday afternoon at your house - around that time when the sun hung low in the horizon and turned the sky rich with amber hues. you were sitting by the window, which let the golden-rays highlighted the planes of your face and the detail of your irises. and he was staring, hard.
his knee bounced, as his fingers dug into your sweet-smelling sheets under him. he didn't know if it was the fact that his shirt was currently hanging off your shoulders, or if it was the way your voice sounded when you weren't competing with an annoyingly electronic-sounding song in the background.
either way, he was utterly captivated.
"you look fuzzier out here." you murmured, eyes squinting like you couldn't quiet make out where the edge of him ended and where the wall behind him began.
he noticed how you stilled a little and how the room's energy shifted slightly. his head ticked to the side with a short laugh, "what does that mean?"
"i don't know," you shook your head with a dismissive chuckle as you brushed a hand through your hair, ignoring the way it trembled a little.
martin forgot about that for a while, treating it like an off comment until it was later into the night. the moon hung in the sky lazily, like it knew it had nowhere else to be, the cicadas' chirps turned into white noise as the warty toads hopped in the grass.
you sat side-by-side on the seat on your back porch, as the street lights hummed above. everything felt peaceful for martin. he watched the insects buzz in circles around the lights.
martin fished his phone out of his pocket to record the scenery - particularly, a bug he'd never seen before. it was a passive habit of his, he enjoyed documenting the world around him. he loved how beautiful it was - how imperfect it was.
"its weird out here." you began hesitantly, as your eyes were focused on nothing in particular. "it's like everything is expiring, or something." martin's head turned towards you, his eyes flashing intrigue and his phone still recording. he stayed silent, patiently waiting for you to continue.
you sucked in a breath, turning to meet his gaze. your eyes searched his, almost frantically. your hands clasped together, as if you were in a business meeting.
"don't you wish everything could be sealed? like, preserved forever? you know, so nothing has to change?"
martin's eyebrows pulled together tightly. "why would i? food doesn't mean that much to me," he huffed a laugh, turning back to face the shadowy trees lining the back fence. he expected you to laugh it off as well, but as he sat there, your gaze burned into his profile, more intensely than the first time, it was like his skin was melting. his hand brushed over his cheek to make sure everything was still there.
"i mean, people - life." you added, your voice peaking unnaturally. that makes martin's eyebrow twitch up, as he glances at you through the corner of his eye. he felt a chill brush up his arms, but that wasn't from the evening breeze.
"do you?" he asked slowly, picking up on your sudden strangeness.
you became still. unwaveringly so. your eyes stilled on his profile, unblinking.
"i'd prefer it." you answered plainly, losing the playful lilt in your voice. "just think about it: no worrying about how you look, or if you're saying the right thing. no thoughts. just... static." everything you said flickered a light on in martin's head - maybe in that world, he could just relax, let down his guard. perhaps he would prefer that, too ...until you continued.
"we could just be sitting on a shelf forever and nothing would ever rot, we'd be preserved." as you spoke, each word sounded more rehearsed, and by now, your voice had completely lost that sense of easy sarcasm and character.
martin shifted on the chair uncomfortably, "doesn't that sound lonely?" he subtly made the space between you larger, until he was on the edge of the chair. your sharp gaze lingered, your eyes watered like you were fighting yourself to keep them opening. like if you blinked, martin would disappear into the pixels that were attacking your vision.
"it's only lonely if the inventory's low, martin." you urged closer, leaning into his space. that's when the lights buzzed louder, sounding more like the fridges at the back of the corner store. martin's eyes darted to the grass of the backyard that seemed to stretch into the store's yellow-stained tiles. his voice hesitated in his mouth, before he scrambled off the couch. "i-i better go, huh? it's getting late." he tucked his phone into his back pocket clumsily.
you stood up stiffly, stepping towards martin's much taller frame.
"go? already?"
martin nodded quickly, stumbling over his own feet. the only way out was going through the house and back out the front door. with every hurried step he took he could feel you right behind him, yet you hadn't even left the porch. martin's shaky fingers reached for the door handle, only for it to fall straight through his hand with a static crackle and a flash of vibrant, ultra-violet light.
"where are you going, martin? we're open." your voice carried through the house and rung in his ears like you were right next to him. it sounded artificial - robotic.
martin's head spun. his lungs burned. his heart hammered a frantic rhythm as it tried to leap out of body. you were becoming unrecognisable. you glitched closer. one second - 3-D, then a pile of flickering particles that sizzled into martin's eyes. you were a walking broken signal. the air spiked with an electronic whirring that was piercing at its peak. he tried to bolt, but the floor caught him. his eyes snapped down. the ground was swimming around his feet, turning into a black, glossy sludge that popped viciously. the steam that swirled up from it smelt like burnt tires and sulfur. martin opened his mouth to shout for help but something crackled into his lungs and made his brain pulse until his vision closed in.
martin shot into the waking world. sweat covered his forehead like a slick, slimy second skin. his chest heaved as it tried to catch up with the breaths he just remembered to take. his gaze flicked around the room in a blur - the posters on his wall multiplied, the shadows stuck too thickly to the corners. as much as he wanted to believe that it was all a dream - a horrible, terrifying dream, the lie tasted bitter in his mouth.
he ended up back in his bed, tucked in so precisely, he couldn't have done it himself.
on his way to school, there was something echoing his name as he passed the corner store. something in the air curdled, yet it smelled crisp, too crisp. almost like the smell of aluminium. he felt it chill in his teeth.
something gravitational. something utterly inescapable. something that intercepted his brainwaves and made his converse walk him closer. the sharp, demanding - yet melodic voices promised a life of agony if he didn't give in. his head swivelled around, searching for a witness, but suddenly it was like the entire city had gone into hiding apart from him. an unfamiliar voice invaded mind as he crossed the threshold.
'that's it, martin.'
a teasing huff came from behind the register.
"god, you look rough. didn't sleep last night?" you called out, focusing on the cash in the register. "i basically had to drag you home, because you just ... collapsed. scared me, honestly." your voice was laced with something terrifyingly tender. your eyes weren't flickering particles, they were glassy, sarcastic, real.
he flinched harshly when he saw you. his hands tightened around the hem of his hoodie. everything he prepared to say died on his tongue.
"what?" he scoffed weakly; it was all he could spit out. his vocal cords jumped unexpectedly, the terror and confusion reddening the corners of his eyes. your head ticked to the side.
"... yeah, we were on the couch outside and all of a sudden you just ... fainted or something," you answered after a quiet beat, like it was the most obvious thing ever - and that martin should have remembered something similar.
"no. you were -" he tried to fight back, his hands gestured vaguely at nothing. "you - you weren't real, you were literally glitching in front of me. then i was - i was sinking. your door handle wasn't real. why are you pretending that you don't know what i'm talking about?" each word made his lips move faster and less emphatic. his face was starting to burn with exasperation that was quickly turning into outrage.
you nodded along, with that skeptical look - eyebrows raised, humming vaguely, like you found him wildly amusing yet pitiful. he saw it in the way your eyebrows turned upwards. it made it blood boil.
"i think you should cut down on the redbulls, martin" you added casually, leaning your forearms on the counter with a thud that further proved you were physically there.
"the caffeine's getting to your head" you whispered, tapping two fingers to your temple.
martin's eyebrows clashed together, as a frustrated sigh squeaked out of him and soon his hands dragged over his scrunched up face. he realised this wasn't getting him anywhere.
"why are you acting like this? i watched you tear apart." his voice crackled in his throat as if raising his voice at you was impossible, even if you probably weren't human anymore.
what confused him the most was the way you brushed him off so easily. just a sigh and nonchalance settling in the corners of your mouth.
what would make you believe him? it wasn't like there was anyone to back him up.
...until he remembered the indisputable evidence he had sitting in his camera roll. all he had to do was show you and then you'd tell him what you really were. he held it up to you unstably, an interrogating look shaping his face into a scowl.
the moment replayed just how he remembered. first the moths fluttering under the light of the streetlight, the cicadas chirped in the background. you made your comment about how everything felt like it was 'expiring'. but after he replied, your voice started to cut out. the video looped on a millisecond-long hum, and it repeated eerily until it stretched out into a long, mechanical whir. his phone started to heat up to impossible temperatures that would've burnt his hand if he didn't let it clatter on the counter. you gasped in unison. martin stared at the blisters blooming in his palm, still feeling the ghost of the heat attacking his flesh.
"i don't get it. what was that supposed to show me? that you need a new phone?" you commented after a heavy silence. you tried to force a laugh, but something in the way your face fell flat showed that there was a different emotion peeking through.
"...martin, what was that." your voice dropped to a low, cautious register that was tinged with real concern.
the fact that even you were unsettled only confused him more. were you trying to convince him you were human by taunting him, or was he genuinely losing it?
he laid awake that night, staring at a string of voicenotes from you, after his phone had somehow come back to life. you were frantic. out of character.
"no one will believe you."
"i'm the only one who can understand you."
before he could understand how, you became embedded in his brain. not just your voice, or the image of you, but your literal essence. you were controlling him from the inside.
weeks blurred by. each day, his mental state dwindled. the purple under his eyes bloomed harshly as he solely relied on watermelon redbull. it kept him awake, but not alive. the taste became more like battery acid every time his lips touched the aluminium can.
the only place he felt normalcy was the corner store, even though he knew it wasn't his will taking him there everyday, because the further from you he got, the more his life felt like nothing. less and less people waved to him in the halls, james stopped aiming fun at him, the teachers stopped calling on him. he thought it was nice in the beginning, but in reality, his existence was being erased from one brain at a time.
now, martin had more of you than he he had left of himself. that's when he knew, with sickening, yet comforting clarity, that there was no saving him now. like he was staring into the mouth of an open grave, and stepping in willingly.
martin had no idea what happened to your physical body. he soon realised that he'd rather not know. mostly, because he was losing the ability to care about anything he used to. now, his only goals were to keep the store stocked and clean, especially that thick, blackish sludge that seeped from the storage room in the back. it was becoming easier to lean into your voice, as his free will waned at the edges of his fraying sanity.
he stared at his reflection in the refrigerator door, carefully scanning the features that watched him so closely. he only saw you. the mask rippled as he blinked, like you enjoyed seeing him decay.
"go find me, martin." your voice was all-encompassing now. even if he wanted to, he couldn't deny you. he nodded blankly at your shared reflection, as his legs carried him behind the register, down the corridor, into the storage room in the back. martin was immediately struck by a foul smell. almost like the one he smelt a couple months ago - burnt rubber, sulfur. but there was something worse that lingered and stuck to the walls of his nose uncomfortably. something like curdled milk, or rotten meat.
still, he continued further.
the sounds of machinery and what sounded like liquid sloshing tingled in his ears.
"warmer," you whispered.
variously-labelled cans travelled down an escalator in single-file.
one after another, they were filled with a mysterious - yet suspiciously red, viscous liquid.
"hot."
martin stumbled back, briefly regaining autonomy as his back hit the stained tiles. your voice told martin to run. you told him that if he didn't get up, he'd regret it. but he was completely paralysed. drained. disorientated. his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, then it was shoved into his airways.
his eyes watered, his throat tightened and his nails scraped the tiles.
"please," he begged as a hand grabbed the collar of his shirt. for what, he didn't know exactly. his life? his end?
"inventory's low. don't wanna leave the others lonely, do ya?" the manager - or, at least that was the manager -spoke. his face didn't quite meet the edges, yet the skin overlapped in strange areas, like they were parts of different people. martin was dragged over to a vat at the end of the line and held above it. his head fell forward, forcing him to see the miscellaneous items that floated to the top of the sludge that bubbled angrily.
a name badge.
a t-shirt, that looked like that one he lent you once.
it seems that he found where the stench came from.
his head was slammed into the side of the vat with a force that could've broken his skull. your reflection sparkled across the surface of the liquid.
"you look funny," you teased.
the door slid open as usual.
its customary over-played pop song buzzed through the speakers.
a group of teenagers laughed throughout the store, talking about nothing in particular.
james hovers at the fridges, shivering at the burst of cold air as he scanned each vibrant row of artificially-flavoured drinks. he tossed one around in his hand, reading the label with a shrug.
"watermelon? out of all the flavours?" his friend commented with a disgusted look.
james shrugged again. he couldn't explain it, but there was this strange pull towards the checkout.
"i don't know, feeling adventurous, i guess." he grins.
you were there, leaning on your elbows.
you took the can from his hands, your fingers lingering too a little too long.
"interesting choice," you smirked.
as you slid the can back over, a faint, muffled sound bounced off the inside of the can. something like a warning. martin's voice urged james to leave the can. but every word was futile because he had already fallen into the trap.
author notes: ĚĚâ idk what that was either lmao. but like & reblog if u enjoyed!
synopsis: ĚĚâ martin falls for the girl behind the register, but it was more like he was staring into the mouth of an open grave and stepping in willingly genre: ĚĚâ fluff , thriller word count: ĚĚâ 4.4k
author notes: ĚĚâ martin jus wants someone , a little dark at the end , toxic relationship themes , manipulation , mentions of gore (nothing explicit obv) , mild body horror
the corner store's door slid open begrudgingly, as a contrastingly pleasant ping sounded above.
some over-played pop song crackled softly through the aging speakers.
"cool hair," said the girl behind the register.
martin's head jerked towards the sound, the sudden attention catching him off guard. under your steady gaze, his breath hitched and snagged in his throat like live wire. he didn't even notice your manager watching from the doorway behind you. martin's fingers subconsciously slithered up to the blonde-ish strands forming spikes on his head, as a smile forced its way onto his lips, like it was his equivalent of giggling and kicking his feet. he almost forgot to keep up his âcool, totally nonchalant guyâ image, his shoulders tightened and his lip quivered in its place. the mask slipped back into place clumsily and his hand crawled back into his pocket with a totally natural - and not at all rehearsed - swish.
he shyly muttered out a quick "thanks.." then, for the next couple of seconds, he wondered if his voice was always that high.
he stood in front of the fridge, as the cold air argued with his red cheeks. his eyes skipped across the many colourful options that were all competing for his attention. but the only thing he could actually focus on, was the feeling of your eyes on him. it didn't prickle on his neck, no. it felt more like red-hot lasers burning holes through his skin.
even as a new customer came and went, martin could still sense you following him.
he was so focused on not making a fool of himself, he practically blacked out. his hands were on autopilot as he reached for whatever was in front of him, not caring for the consequences of his choice in any regard.
and when he finally decided that 'casually hanging out' in the corner of the store was actually a little weird, he shuffled to the counter and placed the can in front of you. an eyebrow raised in return, as you watched him fumble with his card with an amused smirk.
âall that wondering around just for aâŚâ your voice trails off as you scan the drink with a beep ââŚwatermelon red bull⌠interesting choice.â
once again, his breath caught in his throat. he tried to force something out, really tried, but all he could manage was an unintelligible mumble. your head gestured towards the vivid red can, the smirk only growing more prominent. he hummed a confused note, like all he was hearing right now was vowels and colours.
âiâm just teasing you,â you added, making it a point to match his bewildered gaze as he hesitantly tapped his card against the reader.
martin stared at the can, wishing it would talk back - maybe save him from his own awkwardness. but it just stared back at him with equal disinterest, sweating in the midday sun.
being the third wheel is never fun. but being the ninth wheel? thatâs just depressing. martin learned that very quickly. how could he not? his friends and their girlfriends were everywhere at all times. martinâs at his locker? theyâre chatting loudly beside him. martinâs studying in the library? someoneâs learning more than literature behind him. at lunch, heâs closed off unintentionally, sitting in his own bubble⌠staring at a red bull can.
before he could start wishing the can would ask him out so he wouldnât have to ninth wheel, a voice pulled him from his increasingly concerning thoughts.
âhow come you still donât have a girl, martin?â his friend drawled, his voice bordering on teasing. he huffed sarcastically in return, mumbling something about how heâs âjust not ready, yet.â
some people thought that â especially with his musical talent and âcharm,â he was able to sweep the girls off their feet. little did they know, martin was just as much of a loser as his friends perpetuated, and whenever he was presented with a chance, heâd embarrass himself.
martin set of the ping of the door again, as his converse squeaked through the corner store.
this time, he told himself that he would actually speak to you. no stuttering, no stalling. just a normal conversation between normal people.
that was, until, he wandered up to the register.
as soon his eyes met yours, he felt every thought leave his mind and every word died on his tongue. martin stood there, once again, staring like a deer in headlights.
you could've sworn he would've started drooling, if you hadn't snapped him out of it.
"another watermelon redbull? didn't think anyone actually liked these" you huffed, clearing the awkward tension with a flick of your hair.
martin shook his head, an embarrassed grimace spreading on his face.
"i don't-" he started, a little too quickly. "i mean, they're... alright."
before you could say anything else to make his cheeks heat up even more, he swiped his card and rushed out of the door.
martin's back hit his bedroom door dramatically, as a long sigh dragged out of his mouth.
'she definitely dosen't think i'm weird. no one does. you did great, martin.' he repeated to himself under his breath. he was totally cool.
so cool, in fact, that when he returned the next afternoon, he swaggered through the door with a new-found sense of confidence. his hands were stuffed in his jacket's pockets, his chin was perpendicular to the floor - just like every cool person.
but you weren't there. instead there was some middle-aged man with dark bags under his eyes and an even darker shadow above his lips and across his jaw. he must've been the manager, judging from the way he was logging new inventory at the register.
martin straightened up and told himself that it didn't matter... then he spun on his heels with a squeak, before the man could see him, and walked straight back out.
he made sure to come back every other day, to make sure he knew what days you worked.
everyday you weren't there, the manager stood in your place, as still as ever. as unsettling as ever.
he scribbled 'only wednesdays and thursdays' onto a sticky note, like he'd need it to remember.
every wednesday and thursday thereafter, he'd return with more confidence than the last time.
he slowly began to notice things. how your eyes lit up every time he shuffled through the store, how the store's inventory never really changed, even as new items popped in and out of every other store. he noticed how your shoulders would noticeably relax, like you were comfortable enough not to use your 'highly trained, professional employee' persona.
"you changed your hair?" you commented a couple weeks later, noticing his hair wasn't carefully spiked this time. it was slightly more toned blonde and he let it fall onto his forehead and curl at his nape. he nodded, feeling a smile creep onto his face.
"yeah, you like it?" martin asked, already sensing your answer from the arch in your eyebrow. you scoffed sarcastically, "no." yet, you still reached for it and twisted it in your fingers before picking up the barcode scanner.
he hummed in amusement as he took his redbull into his hand as you handed it to him. martin added something as his eyes lingered on your name badge.
"still haven't asked for my name, you know."
you rolled your eyes, but complied anyway. martin answered with his full name promptly, smugness settling deep into his smirk. he didn't know when he got so bold, he was almost convinced that someone was taking control over his body.
"hi, martin" you greeted, his name flowing off your tongue so easily it sent a shudder through him.
----
martin joined his friends at their usual spot at the courtyard's round tables, where the sun dappled through the trees. martin was infatuated with his screen, and his friends' chatter muffled into the background of his mind. until there was suddenly a sharp crack of palms in front of his face, accompanied by a quiet, "earth to martin.."
"who could you possibly be texting." james drawled, his hands still hovering by martin's wide eyes. "come on, who's the new victim?" he pushed, his head cocking to the side with a sly smirk.
"why don't you fuck off for once, james?" he spat, with an unnatural bite that sounded too harsh to have come out of his mouth.
the table went silent.
james pulled back as his eyebrows shot upwards, clearly caught off guard by martin's sudden outburst too.
martin blinked, slowly. his mask slid back into place with a shiver. he cleared his throat when he felt the awkwardness skip across his skin. "um... just the register girl." he murmured, avoiding eye contact.
james' eyes lit up with a prideful glint, and his teasing grin returned. his hand slammed into martin's back sharply, as the rest of the group cooed at him. "look at that, one redbull, and he's a changed man! got sick of being the ninth wheel, huh?" martin laughed along dryly, still getting over his out-of-character spurt.
a month passed by and you were still stuck in his head. especially after he kissed you under the stuttering glow of the street lamps, with his back against the cool bricks of the store. while it was fleeting and inexperienced, it was so painfully tender - you felt the heat of his breath mingle with yours, and the curve of his grin linger on yours. his hands grasped tightly onto your sleeves. the rest of the night, martin was floating in a daze as he wore a lazy smile and heavily-hooded eyes.
he texted constantly - to the point where his phone screen was imprinted into his corneas. though your replies were short and punctuated, it never seemed to stop his flow of blabbering. but you didn't mind anyway.
----
it was a late friday afternoon at your house - around that time when the sun hung low in the horizon and turned the sky rich with amber hues. you were sitting by the window, which let the golden-rays highlight the planes of your face and the detail of your irises. and he was staring, hard.
his knee bounced, as his fingers dug into your sweet-smelling sheets under him. he didn't know if it was the fact that his shirt was currently hanging off your shoulders, or if it was the way your voice sounded when you weren't competing with an annoyingly electronic-sounding song in the background.
either way, he was utterly captivated.
"you look fuzzier out here." you murmured, eyes squinting like you couldn't quiet make out where the edge of him ended and where the wall behind him began.
he noticed how you stilled a little and how the room's energy shifted slightly. his head ticked to the side with a short laugh, "what does that mean?"
"i don't know," you shook your head with a dismissive chuckle as you brushed a hand through your hair, ignoring the way it trembled a little.
martin forgot about that for a while, treating it like an off comment until it was later into the night. the moon hung in the sky lazily, like it knew it had nowhere else to be, the cicadas' chirps turned into white noise as warty toads hopped in the grass.
you sat side-by-side on the seat on your back porch, as the street lights hummed above. everything felt peaceful for martin. he watched the insects buzz in circles around the lights.
martin fished his phone out of his pocket to record the scenery - particularly, a bug he'd never seen before. it was a passive habit of his, he enjoyed documenting the world around him. he loved how beautiful it was - how imperfect it was.
"its weird out here." you began hesitantly, as your eyes were focused on nothing in particular. "it's like everything is expiring, or something." martin's head turned towards you, his eyes flashing intrigue and his phone still recording. he stayed silent, patiently waiting for you to continue.
you sucked in a breath, turning to meet his gaze. your eyes searched his, almost frantically. your hands clasped together, as if you were in a business meeting.
"don't you wish everything could be sealed? like, preserved forever? you know, so nothing has to change?"
martin's eyebrows pulled together tightly. "why would i? food doesn't mean that much to me," he huffed a laugh, turning back to face the shadowy trees lining the back fence. he expected you to laugh it off as well, but as he sat there, your gaze burned into his profile, more intensely than the first time, it was like his skin was melting. his hand brushed over his cheek to make sure everything was still in place.
"i mean, people - life." you added, your voice peaking unnaturally. that makes martin's eyebrow twitch up, as he glanced at you through the corner of his eye. he felt a chill brush up his arms, but that wasn't from the evening breeze.
"do you?" he asked slowly, picking up on your sudden strangeness.
you became still. unwaveringly so. your eyes stilled on his profile, unblinking.
"i'd prefer it." you answered plainly, losing the playful lilt in your voice. "just think about it: no worrying about how you look, or if you're saying the right thing. no thoughts. just... static." everything you said flickered a light on in martin's head - maybe in that world, he could just relax, let down his guard. perhaps he would prefer that, too ...until you continued.
"we could just be sitting on a shelf forever and nothing would ever rot, we'd be preserved." as you spoke, each word sounded more rehearsed, and by now, your voice had completely lost that sense of easy sarcasm and character.
martin shifted on the chair uncomfortably, "doesn't that sound lonely?" he subtly made the space between you larger, until he was on the edge of the chair. your sharp gaze lingered, your eyes watered like you were fighting yourself to keep them opening. like if you blinked, martin would disappear into the pixels that were attacking your vision.
"it's only lonely if the inventory's low, martin." you urged closer, leaning into his space. that's when the lights buzzed louder, sounding more like the fridges at the back of the corner store. martin's eyes darted to the grass of the backyard that seemed to stretch into the store's yellow-stained tiles. his voice hesitated in his mouth, before he scrambled off the couch. "i-i better go, huh? it's getting late." he tucked his phone into his back pocket clumsily.
you stood up stiffly, stepping towards martin's much taller frame.
"go? already?"
martin nodded quickly, stumbling over his own feet. the only way out was going through the house and back out the front door. with every hurried step he took he could feel you right behind him, yet you hadn't even left the porch. martin's shaky fingers reached for the door handle, only for it to fall straight through his hand with a static crackle and a flash of vibrant, ultra-violet light.
"where are you going, martin? we're open." your voice carried through the house and rung in his ears like you were right next to him. it sounded artificial - robotic.
martin's head spun. his lungs burned. his heart hammered a frantic rhythm as it tried to leap out of body. you were becoming unrecognisable. you glitched closer. one second - 3-D, then a pile of flickering particles that sizzled into martin's eyes. you were a walking broken signal. the air spiked with an electronic whirring that was piercing at its peak. he tried to bolt, but the floor caught him. his eyes snapped down. the ground was swimming around his feet, turning into a black, glossy sludge that popped viciously. the steam that swirled up from it smelt like burnt tires and sulfur. martin opened his mouth to shout for help but something crackled into his lungs and made his brain pulse until his vision closed in.
martin shot into the waking world. sweat covered his forehead like a slick, slimy second skin. his chest heaved as it tried to catch up with the breaths he just remembered to take. his gaze flicked around the room in a blur - the posters on his wall multiplied, the shadows stuck too thickly to the corners. as much as he wanted to believe that it was all a dream - a horrible, terrifying dream, the lie tasted bitter in his mouth.
he ended up back in his bed, tucked in so precisely, he couldn't have done it himself.
on his way to school, there was something echoing his name as he passed the corner store. something in the air curdled, yet it smelled crisp, too crisp. almost like the smell of aluminium. he felt it chill in his teeth.
something gravitational. something utterly inescapable. something that intercepted his brainwaves and made his converse walk him closer. the sharp, demanding - yet melodic voices promised a life of agony if he didn't give in. his head swivelled around, searching for a witness, but suddenly it was like the entire city had gone into hiding apart from him. an unfamiliar voice invaded mind as he crossed the threshold.
'that's it, martin.'
a teasing huff came from behind the register.
"god, you look rough. didn't sleep last night?" you called out, focusing on the cash in the register. "i basically had to drag you home, because you just ... collapsed. scared me, honestly." your voice was laced with something terrifyingly tender. your eyes weren't flickering particles, they were glassy, sarcastic, real.
he flinched harshly when he saw you. his hands tightened around the hem of his hoodie. everything he prepared to say died on his tongue.
"what?" he scoffed weakly; it was all he could spit out. his vocal cords jumped unexpectedly, the terror and confusion reddening the corners of his eyes. your head ticked to the side.
"... yeah, we were on the couch outside and all of a sudden you just ... fainted or something," you answered after a quiet beat, like it was the most obvious thing ever - and that martin should have remembered something similar.
"no. you were -" he tried to fight back, his hands gestured vaguely at nothing. "you - you weren't real, you were literally glitching in front of me. then i was - i was sinking. your door handle wasn't real. why are you pretending that you don't know what i'm talking about?" each word made his lips move faster and less emphatic. his face was starting to burn with exasperation that was quickly turning into outrage.
you nodded along, with that skeptical look - eyebrows raised, humming vaguely, like you found him wildly amusing yet pitiful. he saw it in the way your eyebrows turned upwards. it made it blood boil.
"i think you should cut down on the redbulls, martin" you added casually, leaning your forearms on the counter with a thud that further proved you were physically there.
"the caffeine's getting to your head" you whispered, tapping two fingers to your temple.
martin's eyebrows clashed together, as a frustrated sigh squeaked out of him and soon his hands dragged over his scrunched up face. he realised this wasn't getting him anywhere.
"why are you acting like this? i watched you tear apart." his voice crackled in his throat as if raising his voice at you was impossible, even if you probably weren't human anymore.
what confused him the most was the way you brushed him off so easily. just a sigh and nonchalance settling in the corners of your mouth.
what would make you believe him? it wasn't like there was anyone to back him up.
...until he remembered the indisputable evidence he had sitting in his camera roll. all he had to do was show you and then you'd tell him what you really were. he held it up to you unstably, an interrogating look shaping his face into a scowl.
the moment replayed just how he remembered. first the moths fluttering under the light of the streetlight, the cicadas chirped in the background. you made your comment about how everything felt like it was 'expiring'. but after he replied, your voice started to cut out. the video looped on a millisecond-long hum, and it repeated eerily until it stretched out into a long, mechanical whir. his phone started to heat up to impossible temperatures that would've burnt his hand if he didn't let it clatter on the counter. you gasped in unison. martin stared at the blisters blooming in his palm, still feeling the ghost of the heat attacking his flesh.
"i don't get it. what was that supposed to show me? that you need a new phone?" you commented after a heavy silence. you tried to force a laugh, but something in the way your face fell flat showed that there was a different emotion peeking through.
"...martin, what was that." your voice dropped to a low, cautious register that was tinged with real concern.
the fact that even you were unsettled only confused him more. were you trying to convince him you were human by taunting him, or was he genuinely losing it?
he laid awake that night, staring at a string of voicenotes from you, after his phone had somehow come back to life. you were frantic. out of character.
"no one will believe you."
"i'm the only one who can understand you."
before he could understand how, you became embedded in his brain. not just your voice, or the image of you, but your literal essence. you were controlling him from the inside.
weeks blurred by. each day, his mental state dwindled. the purple under his eyes bloomed harshly as he solely relied on watermelon redbull. it kept him awake, but not alive. the taste became more like battery acid every time his lips touched the aluminium can.
the only place he felt normalcy was the corner store, even though he knew it wasn't his will taking him there everyday, because the further from you he got, the more his life felt like nothing. less and less people waved to him in the halls, james stopped aiming fun at him, the teachers stopped calling on him. he thought it was nice in the beginning, but in reality, his existence was being erased from one brain at a time.
now, martin had more of you than he he had left of himself. that's when he knew, with sickening, yet comforting clarity, that there was no saving him now. like he was staring into the mouth of an open grave, and stepping in willingly.
martin had no idea what happened to your physical body. he soon realised that he'd rather not know. mostly, because he was losing the ability to care about anything he used to. now, his only goals were to keep the store stocked and clean, especially that thick, blackish sludge that seeped from the storage room in the back. it was becoming easier to lean into your voice, as his free will waned at the edges of his fraying sanity.
he stared at his reflection in the refrigerator door, carefully scanning the features that watched him so closely. he only saw you. the mask rippled as he blinked, like you enjoyed seeing him decay.
"go find me, martin." your voice was all-encompassing now. even if he wanted to, he couldn't deny you. he nodded blankly at your shared reflection, as his legs carried him behind the register, down the corridor, into the storage room in the back. martin was immediately struck by a foul smell. almost like the one he smelt a couple months ago - burnt rubber, sulfur. but there was something worse that lingered and stuck to the walls of his nose uncomfortably. something like curdled milk, or rotten meat.
still, he continued further.
the sounds of machinery and what sounded like liquid sloshing tingled in his ears.
"warmer," you whispered.
variously-labelled cans travelled down an escalator in single-file.
one after another, they were filled with a mysterious - yet suspiciously red, viscous liquid.
"hot."
martin stumbled back, briefly regaining autonomy as his back hit the stained tiles. your voice told martin to run. you told him that if he didn't get up, he'd regret it. but he was completely paralysed. drained. disorientated. his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, then it was shoved into his airways.
his eyes watered, his throat tightened and his nails scraped the tiles.
"please," he begged as a hand grabbed the collar of his shirt. for what, he didn't know exactly. his life? his end?
"inventory's low. don't wanna leave the others lonely, do ya?" the manager - or, at least that was the manager -spoke. his face didn't quite meet the edges, yet the skin overlapped in strange areas, like they were parts of different people. martin was dragged over to a vat at the end of the line and held above it. his head fell forward, forcing him to see the miscellaneous items that floated to the top of the sludge that bubbled angrily.
a name badge.
a t-shirt, that looked like that one he lent you once.
it seems that he found where the stench came from.
his head was slammed into the side of the vat with a force that could've broken his skull. your reflection sparkled across the surface of the liquid.
"you look funny," you teased.
the door slid open as usual.
its customary over-played pop song buzzed through the speakers.
a group of teenagers laughed throughout the store, talking about nothing in particular.
james hovers at the fridges, shivering at the burst of cold air as he scanned each vibrant row of artificially-flavoured drinks. he tossed one around in his hand, reading the label with a shrug.
"watermelon? out of all the flavours?" his friend commented with a disgusted look.
james shrugged again. he couldn't explain it, but there was this strange pull towards the checkout.
"i don't know, feeling adventurous, i guess." he grins.
you were there, leaning on your elbows.
you took the can from his hands, your fingers lingering a little too long.
"interesting choice," you smirked.
as you slid the can back over, a faint, muffled sound bounced off the inside of the can. something like a warning. martin's voice urged james to leave the can. but every word was futile because he had already fallen into the trap.
author notes: ĚĚâ idk what that was either lmao. but like & reblog if u enjoyed!
( pre-chap notes. ) this scene takes place right after the last chapter ends, before the characters go to sleep at home ^â˘^ the last part of their conversation is inspired by the lyrics of DISILLUSIONED BY DANIEL CAESAR so give it a listen đ
( đ ) GUYS IM GOING TO CRY THEYRE SO MY FAV đđđ the songs I had playing while writing this were so so SO many that.... I don't wanna include in this chap so,,,, I may instead make a mini playlist as a bonus based on this chapter IF ANYONE WANTS TO SEE THAT !!! cuz guys âšď¸âšď¸âšď¸ I love them so much âšď¸âšď¸âšď¸ and also like I defend my girl y/n for feeling hurt okay like lowk I'd lose it if a guy ghosted me TOO I stand by her
synopsis the seasons weren't kind to seonghyeon - neither was the loss of his first love, implied bi!reader genre angst wc 1.6k an a lil something while i finish my long ass drafts (Ëśáľ áľ áľËś)
summer was easy.
the cool breeze rustled the palms as they lined the coast. the sun was warm, the sand was scalding, the ocean was glistening and unforgiving. there, under the shade of his umbrella, seonghyeonâs fingers brushed against yours before he clasped your hand in his. your head turned towards him slowly, carefully. he was already watching you with a small smile curling at the corners of his lips.
âi love you,â he whispered. you giggled, but you never replied.
he always thought love was easy, especially since he had you. he loved quietly yet so deeply, he wondered if it was normal to love someone more than himself. he'd write you notes and leave them around your house when you weren't looking. they'd worship every part of you; your smile, your creativeness, your eyes - things he'd be too shy to say out loud. he'd send you songs that reminded you of him, he'd write lengthy analyses on old romance movies over text, and when you couldnât sleep, youâd spend your nights reading them.
you raced him down to the water, shouting teasing remarks with no bite behind them. one thing about seonghyeon, was that he was overly competitive. you could always see that flame flicker in his eyes. so when you were just feet away from where the waves lapped at the shore, he tackled you mercilessly into the water. you yelped as you both crashed into the wet sand with a thud. you stared at him with wide eyes, as the salty water slapped across your bodies. a smack landed on his shoulder and soon the water was being flicked into the air angrily. you laughed until it hurt, and he smiled until he couldn't feel his face. he managed to dodge your attacks to sweep you off your feet, and he carried you into deeper water until it was cold around his ankles. you flailed aimlessly as you shouted warnings. he acted like he couldn't hear you, just nodding along to your threats, and ungracefully tossed you into the water. what he didn't expect, was your hand dragging him down with you with an unceremonious plunge.
he never wanted that day to end.
but then autumn came, and brought a time of change. the old leaves dried out, then fell to the ground to be forgotten.
he learnt that the hard way.
he tried to convince himself that it wasn't happening, that you didn't look at him like you looked at the ground. that you weren't backing out of his life.
seonghyeon watched the way you looked at that other girl. how your eyes would trace the curve of her waist, how you would linger around her more often, how you'd lean too close and whisper into her ear. he told himself that, if he was secure, he shouldn't care about you with another girl. then, he started picking up her habits like he was subconsciously trying to emulate her just to get you to look at him when he spoke. he stopped writing you notes, he stopped pouring his heart out over text in the middle of the night, and he tried to love you the way that she did. he'd card his fingers through your hair and he'd kiss your neck, but you'd always pull away like he burned you. you didnât even act like you wanted him around. like over night, he had become another object standing in your way.
it tore him to pieces.
was he not what you wanted? should he have done more? he wouldâve done anything to change, just say the word and heâd drop everything for you.
you stormed into his room one day, screaming something about jealousy and breaking up. in some ways, you had a point. but he really wasn't listening this time, he knew it was over the moment he caught you staring at her. now he watched you with empty eyes, wondering if heâd ever hear you say you loved him too.
you slammed the door behind you, with a frustrated yell.
its was then, with tantalising clarity, he realised he never would.
winter was dormancy. when his clock threatened to stop ticking. he was buried in his own emotions so heavily that it was hard to see the light. he was mourning his first love, while you were out there with your new thing and staying up all night like there was nothing to worry about. he laid out on the floor when his body gave up on him. he felt the frigid air sweep through the cracks in the windows. it creep under his skin and sent a shiver up his spine. he knew he was slowly deteriorating, but he was too exhausted to care.
jealousy was an ugly feeling. it was an angry, untrusting voice in his mind that questioned everything and broke his trust entirely. but this wasn't just jealousy anymore. it was something worse - guilt. it manifested deep in his gut, it crushed the air out of his lungs, it made his heart ache until he lost every ounce of energy. guilt taunted him everywhere he went, until his motivation to do simple things like washing his face ran out. he'd rather be slumped over on the floor, wishing for summer to return so he could feel the sun on his skin again, the sand under his feet, your hand in his.
seonghyeon hated the way his tears burned, but he couldn't stop them from coming. the pressure built behind his eyes, the feeling was unbearably heavy, like they were being pushed out of his skull. then his angry tears seared against the raw skin in the corners of his eyes.
he'd stare out the window. the snow and ice suffocated the life beneath it and he'd wonder briefly if life would be easier if he let it take him too.
spring promised new beginnings. maybe a chance at moving on.
despite the utter hopelessness he felt every time he exhaled- despite the countless hours he spent at night, staring at the ceiling, wishing he was different - he still loved you. more than he should've, more than she ever could. but sometimes, he'd wish you'd fall in love, and maybe you'd tell her that you cherished her. because at the end of the day, you deserved it.
a part of him still broke every time he saw you around, and he'd catch you glance for a split second, like apologies were on the tip of your tongue but you were too deep in this hole to ever get them off.
it was okay, he thought. you had made your choice, and if whether or not he agreed with it, he knew he had to live with it.
spring guided him into the field outside of his house. once again, he was on his back, staring upwards. but now, he could breathe easier. the birds sung beautifully, the grass wrapped around his arms, almost claiming him, while the bees hovered by the daffodils and drank their sweetness. he missed tranquillity like this, he hadn't felt it since summer.
but just like the evergreen, his love for you was everlasting, no matter how deeply you cut him. forgiving you was easier than grieving you.
wc: 3.2k , pairing: yearner!riku x female!yn , genre: fluff, slight angst ? , warnings: a kiss at the end! , synopsis: riku liked yn all throughout their younger days, but now in college yn finds herself to be the one pining !!
you had known maeda riku for your whole life, it felt like. he was always the quiet boy with the soft voice and kind eyes whose eyes you always met in the classroom. the boy who quietly handed you a neatly wrapped box of chocolate every valentineâs day, and left a small gift on your desk for your birthday without fail.
in middle school, he was the kid who offered you an umbrella when it rained, who let you borrow his notes when you were out sick, who waited quietly while you tied your shoelace without saying a word.
you smiled and said thank you, but you never really looked at him like how he looked at you. because riku was just riku.
he wasnât loud like the other boys, the ones who tried showing off in gym. he was always just there.
the boy who played soccer after school, not for the attention, but because he liked how the cold air felt in his lungs when he ran. the boy who carried heavy things without being asked, who helped set up festival stalls, who quietly stayed behind to clean up after everyone else left.
the boy with two older sisters who taught him how to be gentle without making him soft in the way people teased. who taught him how to notice small things: when someone was sad, when someone needed space, when someone just wanted to be heard. riku never tried to stand out. and maybe thatâs why you never really saw him. not until later.
because somehow, through all those years, he stayed. always on the edge of your world, always looking at you like you were something he didnât mind waiting for. his crush on you was no secret â everyone knew, but he never made a big deal of it. no grand gestures, no confessions to embarrass you. just those small gifts, those soft glances, those moments you didnât think twice about.
and then high school ended.
you thought maybe heâd stop looking at you that way. maybe time would change things. but when you both ended up at the same college, in the same literature department, you started to notice him in ways you hadnât before.
because riku changed.
not in who he was, not really. but the way he carried himself.
he still had that gentle quiet about him, but it felt steadier now. like heâd grown into himself. his shoulders broader from years of sports, his voice a little deeper, his smile a little softer. he didnât look at you as much anymore, didnât hover at the edges of your world. he wasnât chasing after you anymore, and somehow, thatâs when you started to see him.
it started in little moments, barely noticeable at first.
the way youâd catch sight of him across the quad, his hair ruffled by the wind, his head bent over a book as he waited for class to start. the way his laugh would drift to you when he was with friendsâwarm and boyish, the kind of laugh that made you want to smile without knowing why.
sometimes youâd see him at the cafĂŠ on campus, sleeves pushed up as he scribbled in a notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration. or in the library, where heâd offer you a small nod of recognition, polite, nothing more. and for some reason, those small nods started to mean everything.
you began to notice the way he held doors open for people without making it a big deal, the way he always listened when someone else spoke. the way heâd pause to help someone pick up dropped papers or lend a pen without hesitation.
you started to notice how his shoulders had broadened, how his hands seemed steady and sure, how he carried himself with this quiet ease, like he had nothing to prove. and you started to wonder how you hadnât seen it beforeâhow you hadnât seen him before.
sometimes youâd catch yourself looking for him in a crowd, your gaze searching without thinking. just hoping for a glimpse. and when you didâwhen you saw him laughing with classmates, or reading alone under a tree, or heading to practice with his soccer bag slung over his shoulderâyour heart would do this soft, unfamiliar thing.
a little squeeze. a little flutter.
and the strange partâthe part that made your breath catchâwas that he didnât look at you the way he used to. not anymore.
gone were those soft, lingering glances from middle school. gone were the subtle ways he used to wait for you to notice him. it was like heâd finally let go. and somehow, thatâs what made you want to be seen by him. really seen.
but when your eyes met across campus now, his gaze was steady, kindâbut not searching for anything. and thatâs when you realized: you missed it. you missed the way he used to look at you.
you missed him.
december 31st. cold enough that your breath fogged the air as you walked to the bar, boots crunching over patches of snow and ice that hadnât melted from the last storm. the city felt alive tonightâlights glowing warm in shop windows, the chatter of people hurrying toward countdown parties, the faint sound of music spilling from open doors.
your department had claimed a corner table in a cozy bar near campus, everyone packed close, laughter rising and falling like waves. the windows were fogged up from the warmth inside, the clink of glasses and low hum of conversation filling the space.
youâd ended up at one end of the table, wedged between two girls from your seminar, their cheeks flushed from drink and excitement. riku was at the opposite end, surrounded by a few classmates who were teasing him about somethingâmaybe volleyball, maybe how serious he always looked during lectures.
you werenât really listening to them. your attention kept drifting down the tableâto him.
to maeda riku, sitting there in his dark coat, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, fingers loosely wrapped around a glass he hadnât touched much. his hair was a little messy, like heâd run his hand through it too many times. he smiled at something someone said, that quiet, easy smile that always made your heart feel strange.
and he didnât look at you. not once.
youâd glanced his way more times than you could count by now, hopingâwithout meaning toâthat he might meet your gaze. but he didnât. his eyes never searched for yours.
you found yourself wondering, in the back of your mind, if he remembered.
if he remembered what today was.
january first. your birthday.
heâd always remembered before. always found some small way to let you know. a folded paper crane on your desk. a neatly wrapped box of sweet bean mochi. a little charm from a shrine, tucked into your pencil case when you werenât looking.
but now, here you were, both a little older, a little different. sitting on opposite ends of the table, with friends who didnât know the history between you.
everyone was a few drinks in by nowâthe kind of tipsy that made voices louder, smiles wider. but you noticed that riku drank less than the rest of them.
he nursed the same glass of plum wine for what felt like forever, fingers tapping it absently as he listened to the conversations around him.
and you couldnât stop looking at him.
couldnât stop wondering when heâd gotten so handsome. when his quiet had started to feel magnetic instead of invisible.
when youâd started to want him to look at you again.
you noticed the way he shifted in his seat, the way his fingers tapped the rim of his glass one last time before setting it down. the way he stood, quietly excusing himself, slipping his coat on as he moved toward the door. and you felt itâthe pull.
outside, the night was colder than before. the wind sharper. the snow falling soft and steady, catching in your hair as you stepped out a few minutes after him.
he was there, just a few steps away from the door, breath curling white in the dark. his hands were in his coat pockets, shoulders lifted slightly against the chill.
his cheeks were pink, his nose red at the tip. the soft glow of the streetlight caught in his hair, in his lashes, in the quiet curve of his mouth as he exhaled.
you stood there for a moment, just looking at him.
and then, maybe because of the warmth in your veins, or maybe because you were tired of keeping it all in, the words slipped out.
âyouâre so pretty like this.â
your voice was quiet, but the night carried it anyway.
he turned fast, eyes wide, breath catching in his throat.
âw-what... what did you say?â
there was this look on his faceâlike he couldnât quite believe what heâd heard, like he thought maybe the wind had played a trick on him.
his cheeks seemed even pinker now, and you couldnât tell if it was the cold or the surprise or maybe the same warm, tipsy glow that made your head feel light.
you laughed softly, stepping closer without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears. and he just stood there, like he didnât know what to do with himself.
you werenât really thinking. or maybe you were thinking too muchâabout how the snow kept catching in his hair, and his eyes were wide and shining, about how the cold made his breath come out in soft clouds that mingled with yours.
your hands reached up before you could stop them, fingers cold against the warmth of his skin as you cupped his face.
he froze, eyes even wider now.
and you squeezed his cheeks, just enough that his lips puckered like a goldfish.
his laughter broke the quiet, low and boyish, the sound of it making your chest feel tight in a way that wasnât just from the cold.
you stared into his eyes, your own a little unfocused, heart racing.
âynâwhat are you doing?â he said, voice half-laugh, half-shocked.
you loosened your grip, but your hands stayed on his face, thumbs brushing over the heat of his cheeks, like you didnât want to let go.
you stumbled a step closer, the snow crunching under your boots, so close now you could feel the warmth of him, smell the faint trace of soap and the plum wine he barely drank.
his breath hitched, and you felt it.
you felt it in the way his shoulders tensed, the way his eyes darted between yours like he didnât know where to look.
and you smiled, tipsy and free, your voice soft and wondering.
âhave you always been this sweet?â you asked, your words slow, a little slurred at the edges but full of truth. âthis pretty? this lovely?â
he didnât answer, too stunned, too caught off guard.
so you kept going, breath warm against his skin.
âwhen did you get so handsome, huh?â you teased gently, head tilted, heart in your throat. âwas it after high school? or were you always like this and i just didnât see it?â
riku blinked at you, his cheeks somehow even redder now. he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then tried again, voice low, nervous.
âyn... youâre drunk,â he said, laughing quietly, but his voice trembled just a little.
âmm. maybe,â you admitted, swaying slightly where you stood. âbut i know what iâm saying.â
and the snow kept falling, soft and slow, as he stared at you like he was seeing a dream he didnât want to wake up from.
the cold was starting to seep into your fingers, but you barely felt it. not with him this close. not with the way his breath uneven, like he didnât know what to do with himself.
you stared at himâreally staredâtaking in the way his nose was red now from the cold, the way his dark eyes sparkled, the way snowflakes clung to his lashes like tiny stars.
you thought, in that moment, that he might be the most beautiful thing youâd ever seen.
âi didnât expect to miss you this much after high school,â you admitted, the words tumbling out, soft and honest and maybe a little messy. âi didnât expect to feel like this.â
his eyes widened just slightly, and you swore his breath caught.
âynââ he started, but you cut him off, the ache in your chest too much to hold in.
âdo you...â your voice wavered, your drunk courage faltering for just a second. âdo you still like me?â
the question hung there, fragile, like the snowflakes drifting down around you.
he didnât answer right away, and your heart squeezed painfully.
âwhy donât you look at me like you used to?â you said, your voice small, eyes shining, almost to tears now. âyou used to always look at me.â
your pout deepened as you blinked up at him, fighting the sting behind your eyes.
riku stared at you like he didnât know what hit him, and thenâto your surpriseâhe laughed softly, breathless.
âyouâre... youâre really cute like this, you know that?â he said, voice warm, his own cheeks pinker now, whether from the cold or from you, you couldnât tell.
âiâm being serious,â you said, pouting harder now without meaning to, your bottom lip jutting out in the way you knew probably made you look ridiculous.
âi know,â he murmured, still smiling at you, still looking at you like you were everything. âi know you are.â
he lifted a hand, hesitated, then brushed a bit of snow from your hair, his fingers soft, lingering.
âyouâre so pretty,â you whispered again, unable to stop yourself, breath warm against his wrist.
and god, the way he looked at you thenâthe way his eyes softened, the way his smile turned shy, the way his lashes lowered as if he couldnât handle itâmade your heart ache in the sweetest way.
your hands dropped from his face, fingers trembling slightly as they fell to your sides. the cold bit at your skin where his warmth had been, and the sudden space between you felt too big, too empty.
you sniffled, looking down for a second, blinking fast, trying to stop the tears from falling.
but thenâhis hands found your face, warm and sure, cupping your cheeks so gently it made your breath hitch. his thumbs brushed beneath your eyes, wiping at the tears that slipped free before you could catch them.
âyn,â he said, soft as the snow falling around you.
you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling nowâwet with tears, yes, but shining with something else too. with hope. with all the things youâd been too scared to say until tonight.
he laughed quietly, a sound that made your heart ache in the sweetest way.
âhow could i stop?â he whispered, his forehead dipping just a little closer to yours. âhow could i stop liking you after all these years?â
his cheeks were pink, his lashes damp with melting snow. his eyes looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
and for a moment, neither of you moved. neither of you spoke.
just that soft, breathless space between you, filled with everything youâd both been holding in.
his hands were still on your face, his thumbs brushing slow, like he was memorizing the shape of you beneath his fingers.
âi donât think i ever stopped waiting for this,â he said, voice low, almost like he was saying it to himself. âeven when i tried to tell myself to move on. even when i thought maybe i should let go. i couldnât. youâre... youâve always been it for me.â
you felt his breath, warm against your skin, his forehead so close it almost touched yours.
âyouâre my first love,â he said, the words soft but sure, like theyâd been sitting in his chest for years. âyou always have been. you always will be.â
and the way he said itâlike it wasnât something to be ashamed of, like it wasnât something to hideâmade your heart ache in the best way.
you smiled, watery and a little breathless, your voice quiet but steady.
âi think youâre mine too.â
you meant it. every word. it didnât feel cringey or overdramatic. it felt right. simple and true, the way he made everything feel.
his eyes lit up at thatâreally lit upâlike the boy you remembered, like the boy whoâd always waited at the edges, finally stepping into the light.
âreally?â he said, and his smile turned a little shy, a little boyish, his thumbs still brushing at your skin like he couldnât stop touching you, like he couldnât believe you were real.
you nodded, cheeks warm beneath his palms despite the cold.
âreally. i just didnât know.â
and neither of you moved to pull away. you just stood there, so close, your noses nearly brushing, his eyes on yours like you were something heâd dreamed about for too long.
the snow kept falling, soft and quiet, like it had been waiting for this too.
you didnât know who leaned in first. maybe it was both of you, pulled together like the snow falling softly around you, like the night had been leading you here all along.
and when your lips met hisâwarm, gentle, so sweet your heart achedâyou felt the world fall away.
the bells chimed then, soft at first, then louder, echoing through the cold night air. midnight.
you kissed him as the new year began.
when you pulled back, both of you breathless, his smile mirrored yoursâsoft, a little shy, a little disbelieving.
you giggled, the sound small in the quiet of the falling snow, and he laughed too, low and boyish, his forehead resting against yours for a moment as if he couldnât bear to let go of the closeness.
you both stood there, watching the snow drift down around you, everything hushed and still.
âi was scared you didnât remember,â you confessed, your voice quiet in the dark. âmy birthday, i mean. i kept wondering.â
his eyes widened a little, and that smileâthe one that always felt like homeâcurved at his lips.
âhow could i not?â he said, soft and certain.
he hesitated, cheeks pink, then reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small box wrapped in silver paper, the corners neat, like heâd been carrying it all night.
âi was hoping iâd get the chance to give this to you.â
your heart thudded as you took it, fingers brushing his. you opened it slowly, breath catching at the sight of the delicate bracelet insideâa fine chain with a tiny charm shaped like a snowflake, simple and beautiful.
âitâs from that little shop near the station,â he said, a little sheepish now. âi saw it and it... i donât know. it made me think of you. quiet, but... special. one of a kind.â
you stared at it, throat tight, heart full.
âriku,â you whispered, and he shook his head, smiling, brushing a bit of snow from your hair.
âhappy birthday,â he said, voice low and warm.
and as the snow kept falling, as the new year settled softly around you, you stayed like thatâtogether in the quiet, like how heâd loved you all these years.
author's note: EEEEEEEE thank you for reading! i love riku a lot and wrote this in the summer but waited to post at a more fitting time. i hope you all have a wonderful new year and wish well for 2026! i love the wishies, so hopefully i can write more for them moving forward :)
synopsis the seasons weren't kind to seonghyeon - neither was the loss of his first love, implied bi!reader genre angst wc 1.6k an depression, heartbreak, lil something while i finish my long ass drafts (Ëśáľ áľ áľËś)
summer was easy.
the cool breeze rustled the palms as they lined the coast. the sun was warm, the sand was scalding, the ocean was glistening and unforgiving. there, under the shade of his umbrella, seonghyeonâs fingers brushed against yours before he clasped your hand in his. your head turned towards him slowly, carefully. he was already watching you with a small smile curling at the corners of his lips.
âi love you,â he whispered. you giggled, but you never replied.
he always thought love was easy, especially since he had you. he loved quietly yet so deeply, he wondered if it was normal to love someone more than himself. he'd write you notes and leave them around your house when you weren't looking. they'd worship every part of you; your smile, your creativeness, your eyes - things he'd be too shy to say out loud. he'd send you songs that reminded you of him, he'd write lengthy analyses on old romance movies over text, and when you couldnât sleep, youâd spend your nights reading them.
you raced him down to the water, shouting teasing remarks with no bite behind them. one thing about seonghyeon, was that he was overly competitive. you could always see that flame flicker in his eyes. so when you were just feet away from where the waves lapped at the shore, he tackled you mercilessly into the water. you yelped as you both crashed into the wet sand with a thud. you stared at him with wide eyes, as the salty water slapped across your bodies. a smack landed on his shoulder and soon the water was being flicked into the air angrily. you laughed until it hurt, and he smiled until he couldn't feel his face. he managed to dodge your attacks to sweep you off your feet, and he carried you into deeper water until it was cold around his ankles. you flailed aimlessly as you shouted warnings. he acted like he couldn't hear you, just nodding along to your threats, and ungracefully tossed you into the water. what he didn't expect, was your hand dragging him down with you with an unceremonious plunge.
he never wanted that day to end.
but then autumn came, and brought a time of change. the old leaves dried out, then fell to the ground to be forgotten.
he learnt that the hard way.
he tried to convince himself that it wasn't happening, that you didn't look at him like you looked at the ground. that you weren't backing out of his life.
seonghyeon watched the way you looked at that other girl. how your eyes would trace the curve of her waist, how you would linger around her more often, how you'd lean too close and whisper into her ear. he told himself that, if he was secure, he shouldn't care about you with another girl. then, he started picking up her habits like he was subconsciously trying to emulate her just to get you to look at him when he spoke. he stopped writing you notes, he stopped pouring his heart out over text in the middle of the night, and he tried to love you the way that she did. he'd card his fingers through your hair and he'd kiss your neck, but you'd always pull away like he burned you. you didnât even act like you wanted him around. like over night, he had become another object standing in your way.
it tore him to pieces.
was he not what you wanted? should he have done more? he wouldâve done anything to change, just say the word and heâd drop everything for you.
you stormed into his room one day, screaming something about jealousy and breaking up. in some ways, you had a point. but he really wasn't listening this time, he knew it was over the moment he caught you staring at her. now he watched you with empty eyes, wondering if heâd ever hear you say you loved him too.
you slammed the door behind you, with a frustrated yell.
it was then, with tantalising clarity, he realised he never would.
winter was dormancy. when his clock threatened to stop ticking. he was buried in his own emotions so heavily that it was hard to see the light. he was mourning his first love, while you were out there with your new thing and staying up all night like there was nothing to worry about. he laid out on the floor when his body gave up on him. he felt the frigid air sweep through the cracks in the windows. it crept under his skin and sent a shiver up his spine. he knew he was slowly deteriorating, but he was too exhausted to care.
jealousy was an ugly feeling. it was an angry, untrusting voice in his mind that questioned everything and broke his trust entirely. but this wasn't just jealousy anymore. it was something worse - guilt. it manifested deep in his gut, it crushed the air out of his lungs, it made his heart ache until he lost every ounce of energy. guilt taunted him everywhere he went, until his motivation to do simple things like washing his face ran out. he'd rather be slumped over on the floor, wishing for summer to return so he could feel the sun on his skin again, the sand under his feet, your hand in his.
seonghyeon hated the way his tears burned, but he couldn't stop them from coming. the pressure built behind his eyes, the feeling was unbearably heavy, like they were being pushed out of his skull. then his angry tears seared against the raw skin in the corners of his eyes.
he'd stare out the window. the snow and ice suffocated the life beneath it and he'd wonder briefly if life would be easier if he let it take him too.
spring promised new beginnings. maybe a chance at moving on.
despite the utter hopelessness he felt every time he exhaled- despite the countless hours he spent at night, staring at the ceiling, wishing he was different - he still loved you. more than he should've, more than she ever could. but sometimes, he'd wish you'd fall in love, and maybe you'd tell her that you cherished her. because at the end of the day, you deserved it.
a part of him still broke every time he saw you around, and he'd catch you glance for a split second, like apologies were on the tip of your tongue but you were too deep in this hole to ever get them off.
it was okay, he thought. you had made your choice, and if whether or not he agreed with it, he knew he had to live with it.
spring guided him into the field outside of his house. once again, he was on his back, staring upwards. but now, he could breathe easier. the birds sung beautifully, the grass wrapped around his arms, almost claiming him, while the bees hovered by the daffodils and drank their sweetness. he missed tranquillity like this, he hadn't felt it since summer.
but just like the evergreen, his love for you was everlasting, no matter how deeply you cut him. forgiving you was easier than grieving you.
đśâ¨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)đśâ¨
omg im one of your favourite followers 𼚠tyy
(in order of rn)
Wet (i LIVE this one)
how to make crows cry
war isnt murder
Mr brightside
mitti ke bete
*other ones that are just as important but i cant fit all of them in 5 and i feel like more people should know them(not in order)
Just a girl
girls just wanna have fun
labour
dont cry for your daughters eve
feed us your girls
Ghar kab aaoge
all the dhurandhar songs lmaoo
NPC by cavetownnnn rhahhh
devil town :33
For us
SAILOR SONGGG
Update: im too lazy for this shit so um ignore if youve already been involved(if ur close to me and not tagged its because i think youve alr been tagged xx)
@kurobkasa @moro-thekebab-noodles @walking-mushroom @whackybird-offical @jess-is-toolazy @deltasimaginaryland @evelyn3377 @the-king-of-kaumidy @random-indian-girl (tag pipes i forgor her url ;-;;;) @fancysheepnacho
tagging: @theverycoolfish @eleventhirtythoughts @dramaticinlyf @istillwishforyouateleveneleven @arikakari @epitome-of-stupidity @aamtreeanalogy @classclowns @paraskeinia @ravensncrowsx + I love all of you but picking faves is so hard I just tagged whoever came to mind
Thank uuu @ineffablelyqueerwolfstarshipper i love this
⢠lover you should've come over by Jeff Buckley
⢠Arabella by Arctic Monkeys
⢠Lunch by Billie eilish
⢠Sweet Dreams TN by the last shadow puppets
⢠Cherry by Lana del rey
@edensolace @starcroww @b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m @regulusblack-potter @space-girliee @prongsievans @m1dn1ghtcanvas @moony-toast-mornings all the hot people who want to participate.
HI MY GORGEOUS IZ TYSM FOR THE TAG đŠˇđŠˇđŠˇ ALSO @callatelabok yall are the cutest ilysm AND i love the songs yall picked #ballknowers đĽđĽđ¤
okay this is according to airbuds...đđ
mojo pin - jeff buckley (he really shouldnt be dead đđđ)
stonemilker - bjork (probably a perfect song)
ballad of big nothing - elliott smith (martin pmo!!đđđ)
johnny glamour - rusowksy (SUCH A GOOD ARTIST)
blissing me - bjork (she really is the loml)
no pressure tags!! @saevss @aftermoontea @ramenoil @eohyeons @yeppiz @miseulgaru @hollyoongs @teacuplps + and anyone who wants to join!!
thank u my daisy 4 the tag!! ure my fav! these are some my fav songs from my everyday playlist (´ Ď `âĄ)
inferiority complex â park kyung (my fav song 4ever) love is ugly â jay park (I ADOREE HWASAS FEATURE) I like you a lot â geon (my underrated goat.. I think he stopped making music.. restless â bibi (absolutely HEAVENLY) ego â crush (wonderego top 10 albums of all time!!)
@1800hf @eohyeons @j4eyxn @unakbb @pinkmonchichi @desoire @donttapdatglass @ykvdani @saevss @sinsinisterrrrrr @bambcie @niszarra 12 ppl but idgaf! do if u wanna (ďžÂ´ С `)ă
sunshine - steve lacy & foushee (greatest song of all time, donât chat to me)
bleed - malcolm todd & omar opollo (yo. i donât play about this song.)
pupils - opraah & liim (canât explain but this song is me idk)
give u the world - steve lacy (the whole album is goated. this song is also me)
y si fuera ella - jonghyun / shinee (ik this makes me sound old asf but i love this fricking song. bring back yearning in kpop)
( syn. ) a boy (?) from the forest finds you again at midnight
( tags ) implied f!reader â vampire!james â twilight (ish) au â warnings: implications of harm, violence, and death to reader, A.K, E.S, && E.M; blood; kissing (suggestive) â two oneshots â darker setting, darker themes â songs linked above :D â word count: 5.1k
#đŤ: dedicated to my beautiful @liliikkuma and the anon who was excited for a twilight-esque fic đĽšđĽš this one technically isnât my twilight one LOL that will come out later this autumn (i also wanna write vampire hcs for them đš (youâll know who im talking abt by the end of this)) for now have small one-shots of vampire james because the edits were making me go craaaazzyyyy does he know iâm insane?
âYou shouldnât be here.â
You spin around to the voice, supposedly behind you. Youâd be lying if you said it didnât startle youâyou hadnât even heard another pair of footsteps in the few minutes youâve been walking through this silent, winding, forest.Â
Youâve braced yourself, but thereâs no one thereâonly the lush, evergreen staring back at you. You scan the scene for a second longer, even though you can feel that youâre alone.Â
The lack of sleep recently must be making you hear things, and you set a mental reminder to ask for an increase in your melatonin dosage when you get back home from this town. From Forks. Washingtonâs Olympic Peninsula; a place youâd never voluntarily step foot in if it werenât for the paper desperately needing something fresh to publish.Â
You press your lips into a thin line and shake your head, willing yourself to wake up and focus.
When you turn back, a figure is standing before you.
You canât help but let out the gasp that escapes you this time, taking a step back, trying to calm yourself.Â
âSorry.â He says, raising his eyebrows in an almost taunting-like way. âDid I scare you?â
âMaybe.â You offer a small chuckle, easing tension, and clear your throat. âI didnât see you come up.â
Heâs taller than you, though his rugged cap planted over his messy hair might have something to do with it. You do a quick intake; sharp bone structure, onyx dark eyes, and hollow, pale cheeks. So, so pale, he looks almost deathly.Â
âNot much sun around here.â He says, as if offering an answer for your thoughts.
Your breath hitches. âWhat?â
âIt messes with the light. Why you didnât see me.â His eyes are burning into yours, willing you to accept his explanation.
âOh,â you force out, nodding. âRight.âÂ
He simply watches as you swallow and force yourself to steady your thrumming pulse. A task thatâs not as easy when heâs looking at you like he has intentions if you move even a muscle.Â
Your intuitionâone thatâs never been wrong beforeâis yelling at you to back away even more; to run until you see someone else; to flee this scene because you know all too well about strangers and solitude.
âLike I said, you shouldnât be here.â He echoes.
Finally, something on script. Something you can work with.Â
Your investigative days have led you on strange pathways before; places you legally shouldnât have been, but over the years of experience, youâve learnt how to sweet-talk your way out of trouble. You straighten your backâForks will not make you another statistic.Â
âRight! Iâm so sorry. Is this private property? I had no ideaâŚâ Feigning innocence, eyebrows furrowing in distress. âI tried following the main river.â
The boyâif you can even call him thatâis quiet for a moment. Something is gleaming in his eyes, as if he has you exactly where he wants.Â
âYouâre alright. No, itâs not private property, but the woods arenât safe for a girl like you.â
You let a humourless scoff. Heâs playing into your act a bit too much.Â
Using the opportunity to eye him down properly, your gaze doesnât miss a single detail. Youâve seen him before. You realise. Though you canât recall where, or when, you know his face. You wouldnât forget one like his.Â
The vague familiarity calms you down. Youâre really grasping onto straws here, but itâs a slight relief knowing heâs a little less harmless.Â
The edge of his lips twitch.
âThe woods wouldnât be safe for a guy like you, either.â You finally respond. âYou canât be that much older than me.â
A slow, deliberate, smile spreads across his face. His features were almost too perfect, that the expression makes him look more real.Â
âIâve been twenty.âÂ
The way people talk here is so strange.Â
You wait for anything further, and he offers none.Â
âNot much older than me,â You confirm.Â
He only hums.Â
He turns his attention to a long, fallen log covered in fern, wildflowers sticking out messily. Bending down gracefully to pluck one out of the bunch, the boy gently dangles it in front of your fisted hand at the side of your hip.Â
If this was his way of pleading trust, you hate how it works.Â
Opening your palm, you let him drop the light pink wildflower into it, fingers curling around it to flex your body into moving again. You hadnât realised how still youâve been since he appeared.Â
The boy begins to walk in the opposite direction you were heading.Â
Without meaning to, you walk with him.Â
âI havenât seen you before.â His voice is softer now. Curious. Itching to get you to keep talking.
You recognise the path heâs taking you downâyouâre retracing your steps.Â
You didnât want to leave the forest too early, given this morning was practically spent settling into your motel room, but the endless branches of hanging canopy werenât giving you much to work with either.Â
âI only just arrived.â Your answer is plain. Youâve got to start asking questions too, the boy could be of use, after all.
âThe tourists usually skip this part of Washington.â
âNot a tourist.â
âThen what are you here for, MissâŚ?â
You state your name, followed by âSBS,â with a fiddle of your lanyard. Your bright photo identification plastered across it.Â
âA reporter!â The boy marvels, âWe donât get many of those. Iâm surprised our police havenât reassured you away.âÂ
âOh, they tried.â Memories of Martinâthe scrawny, blonde intern at the stationâflash in your mind. He had to have been freshly graduated from high school with the way he stuttered in attempts of refusing an interview. âBut my bossâshe says thereâs something sinister going on over here. So, Iâm not leaving until I have a story.â
âDo you believe her?â But his tone is off, as if thereâs a right or wrong answer to this question, and not one of opinion.
He faces you, and you feel the spotlight burning your cheeks. âTwo seventeen-year-old boys missing in the span of a month? Iâd say thatâs pretty sinister.â
He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then closes it again. After a pause;Â
âThe logic is there.âÂ
âYouâŚâ The sentence canât come out. He turns to look at you again, tilting his head to implore you to go on. âYou donât seem to agree?âÂ
A clench of his jaw. âLive long enough, you tend to get used to how small towns work.âÂ
He looks away now, taking in the vastness of green surrounding the two of you.
âYouâre a Forks local, then?â
His head rocks side to side, as if weighing the answer. âSomething like that.âÂ
âLocal enough for a statement, at least?âÂ
âIâll give you one, if you let me see you again before you leave town.â
For the second time since meeting this boy, youâre taken aback. The shock even makes you stop walking. âThat is an extremely unprofessional deal.âÂ
âYouâre writing about a retired case.â He chuckles, commanding you with his hand to keep moving forwards. âI hate to break it to you, but the Ahns and Eoms donât want to cry to the media about their boys anymore. I think Iâm the best chance youâve got.â
You simply shake your head, and in a trance-like state, you continue to follow him. âFamilies of victims are always looking to get the word out there. If I donât get something from them, Iâm sure there are others who will talk.âÂ
âNone as good-looking as me, though.â He grins, teeth flashing your way. His face snaps back frontwards though, hiding it as quickly as it came.Â
Though you feel the urge to scoff again, you technically canât disagree.Â
Heâs unbelievably gorgeous; an alluring way about him that youâve never found in the city boys youâve dated in the past. His cologne even, the way itâs breathing off his heavy coat, is enough to make you dizzy.
A satisfied expression forms on his face at your silence.Â
Before you know it, youâve nearly stepped out of the alienating forest of Forks.Â
You can tell, because at the very first sight of a building, âHAVE YOU SEEN AHN KEONHO?â posters are plastered across the walls.
The reminder of the disappearances settles down any attempts of flirtation and humour that were about to surface. The boy watches as you stare, and lets the weight of it all sink onto a moment of silence between the two of you.Â
âOff the record?â
You turn this time, ears piqued in interest, but heâs not next to you anymore. Youâve realised youâve kept walking ahead a few steps, as if getting closer to the pictures of the lost boy will give you a clue on where heâs goneâwhere theyâve all gone.Â
âYes?â You pry, especially as you watch him slightly chew on the inside of his cheeks.Â
âYou were right to go into the woods to investigate. Thereâs a reason no one has published anything about Forks.â He says this in a rush, a slight octave above a whisperâlike he shouldnât reveal this to you. Like he shouldnât be talking to you at all. âBut if youâre smart, you really wonât come back here. You wonât stay for long, either.âÂ
You slowly read between his lines, half comprehending whatâs trying to say. Your chest steadily rises in increasing bursts at his warning.Â
You try to remind yourself that youâre safe nowâyou can hear the bustle of the streets much up ahead, indicating there are more people around on the other side, if need be. Such safety produces bravery, youâve come to find out.Â
âYou know something, donât you?â The plant in your palm, almost crushed.Â
You seem to catch a dip in his head, but youâre not certain.Â
âWhat is it?â Your eyes frantically searching his now, âAn animal? Some sort of voodoo ritual?â
You trace back to all youâve read about the history of Forks.Â
Itâd be impossible not to do research for the case of this town; generations of boys slipping from existence every few decades, no questions asked, no pleas answered.Â
You remember how many speculated beasts that roam in the night, or how other sources simply passed down folktales; history coming into fruition. Though you didnât believe them entirely, the isolating experience of the forest makes you rewire your beliefs on what could rationally be happening in a town thatâs left off the maps.Â
His eyes are narrowing down to look at you through them. Heâs about to respond, until a branch nearby snaps. A noiseâa warningâmade by someone who knows how to stay quiet.Â
Then the crunching of leaves as heavy boots make their way closer.
âJames, youâre frightening the poor girl.â A different voice says, and you whip your head to another boy stepping out from behind the trunks covered in moss. âI can hear her heartbeat from here.â
Heâs slightly taller. His voice is slightly deeper too. A multitude of differences between him and the first boy, James, with the exception of his complexion also being ghost-like.Â
âHello,â He dips his head low, like a bow. âI apologise on his behalf. James doesnât know what heâs saying, really. He likes to play with his fo-â
âFriends!â James finishes. âWeâre friends, arenât we?âÂ
His eyes havenât separated from yours this whole time, and they brighten when you nod.Â
Pleased, he turns to the boy standing next to him now. âJuhoon,â James sighs. âYouâre interrupting my time with my new friend.âÂ
Juhoonâs face is stonecold. âCarlisle sent me. He could tell you were up to no good again.âÂ
James rolls his eyes. âNot a single moment of peace or privacy with you around,â He mumbles to himself.Â
You canât help but revel in this dynamic; you donât even care where this Juhoon came from, youâre relieved to see James acting like a real person. For a second, he almost didnât seem like one.Â
James blinks in your direction.Â
He keeps doing this, you note to yourself. As if youâre saying all of this out loud, and heâs reacting like second-nature. Itâs odd to find yourself in proximity with someone as perceptive as you consider yourself to be.Â
âHello, Juhoon.â You greet, finally taking your gaze off of James.Â
The seemingly younger boy doesnât take your late attention to heart. âYouâll have to excuse us, friend of James, our father wants us home.âÂ
You canât help but smile at his childish antics, and send another nod his way, outlining understanding.Â
Then, to James, âI want my statement.âÂ
Itâs unspoken youâve consented to what comes with it.Â
Juhoon watches at how Jamesâ smirk is forced to the ground; as if heâs guilty, as if heâs caught.Â
He can only sigh at his older brother.
âCarlisleâs right. You are up to no good again.â Juhoon disrupts the moment, glancing between the two of you.
Your eyebrows rise at this. âYou walk girls out of the woods often, James?âÂ
Hearing him say your name isnât helping him wipe the smug expression off of his face, even though he knows he has to. âOnly the pretty-â
A slight breeze picks up from your direction, and you can feel your hair lift off your shoulders. You grumble at this cursed weather, even if the wind only lasts for just a moment.
Itâs enough for Juhoon.Â
Itâs enough for James.Â
Itâs enough for something to shift.
In the split-second you took to pat down your hair-do, your instincts have spiked up, something suddenly stirring inside of you to run.Â
Looking back at James, his eyes have gone impossibly darker. His nose slightly flares from impulse, his dry lips part from want, his nails dig beds into his flesh from restraint.Â
You almost feel like prey, and when James hears this thoughtâbecause you can feel him react to it with the quirk of his mouth, youâre not sure if you want to agree to his deal anymore.Â
âHey!â Another voice calls from behind. The three of you, disrupted from the bubbling tension, look across the field to see a lanky boy, six foot three, waving both arms in the air with glee.Â
Do the boys in this town just not know how to approach social situations properly?
With the biggest grin on his face, Martin-from-the-station is huffing and puffing when he finally reaches you. âThere you are!âÂ
The shift in the air is goneâyou feel like you can breathe again.
âHi?â You grimace, but he puts up a finger, indicating he needs another minute to catch his breath.Â
âI was meant to tell you earlier, youâre not supposed to go into the woods.â He manages, through shortness of gasps. When he can stand up right, his eyes widen and he shakes his head. âBad place.â
âI got the message,â Youâre about to point at James and Juhoon, but when you look behind you, theyâve been replaced with the silence of Forkâs lush again.Â
Even their absence startles you, they were just there.
Were they ever with you at all?
Martin, ignorant to your internal turmoil, takes your arm and drags you closer to the town. His warm hand grounding you, as you make it back to the centre of the graveyard of a city.
You hate admitting James was right.Â
The Ahn girl had slammed the door in your face, and the parents of the second boy who disappeared, Eom Seonghyeon, only stared blankly in disbelief. The people around town had completely avoided you too; picking up their things when you sat at a table near them, crossing the street when you began to walk their way.Â
Small towns keep their secrets like no other.
Hours later after leaving, youâre drawn to take a wander in the forest again, to see if you could find something this time. Or to see if James would come find you again. The more you pondered on your interaction, the more you knew both options were really an individual one.Â
You never got his statement, and so youâre back to square one.Â
Martin, the young boy who had been eager to get you back into town according to the wishes of Chief Swan, was at least useful by directing you to the townâs (one, and only) library. You guessed a historical report was better than going home tomorrow empty-handed.Â
Which is how you got into this position: crouched on the floor in between bookshelves, one table-lamp dragged to your corner, it being your only source of light, as you flip through the volumes of social and political notes of Washington State.Â
Forks: A History, is keeping you company tonight.Â
It could really be considered an antique, how it had been collecting dust for what seems like a millennia the way it made you sneeze when you first pulled it out. Â
Most of the information is a bore; records of architectural developments taking up the majority of pages, but you continue to seamlessly turn the page regardless.Â
Your mind swirls back to James again.Â
His scent.Â
His voice.Â
The way he looked at you.Â
You kept his wildflower in the back pocket of your pants, tucked away for when you want to remember him after you leave Forks. You decide itâs such a shame a pretty boy like him is stuck here, in this peculiar, rainy place. Even if he was peculiar, himself.
You can feel yourself getting so distractedâyou almost jump in fright when Jamesâ face appears in front of you as you flip the page.Â
Delusional girl. Saw a nice face once and now heâs apparently everywhere. The sleep deprivation really is getting to you. You almost chuckle out loud to yourself.
You let yourself take a miniature break from readingâitâs not like you were comprehending any of the literature anywaysâand rub your eyes. When you look back down at the page though, Jamesâ face is still there.Â
You have to take several blinks, press the book up in front of you, and illuminate the lamp right onto the centre of the page because you truly cannot believe your eyes.
James.
It was really James.
A splitting image of him, standing behind a woman sitting down, and next to a man, both just as beautiful as him.Â
A family portrait, with â1908â stamped in a faded, red, onto the paragraph right next to them.Â
This chapter is dedicated to Dr. Carlisle Cullen, his beloved wife, Dr. Esme Cullen, and their only son, Yufan Cullen. In establishing Forksâ first public hospital, we thank the medical developments that have been brought to our town from the familyâs arrival. The Cullens, who volunteered their time preaching aid and wellness to our patients, have immortalised their well-wishes in their generous donations before their departure from Forks, ten years after Forks Hospital opened in 1908. The funding for the public healthcare of Forksâ citizens will be felt, centuries from today. Though the Cullen family may never read these words, the people of Forks dedicate their lives to their munificence.
1908?
You know this is mathematically impossibleâthat this boy printed in a historical volume is the same as the one you talked to in the forest only a mere hours agoâbut you could draw his nose, his eyes, his cheekbones, the curve of his neckâs apple blindfolded, and youâd have a replica of the image before you.Â
And Carlisle. That had been the name Juhoon referred to as his father earlier today, too. That was too much of a coincidence to ignore either. This was him. This was Jamesâof this, youâre absolutely sure.Â
You slam the volume closed. Specs of dust fly about, but you can hardly bring yourself to care. You knew something was off with him, with this town, with these people.
You had to go home. Now.Â
Though the library hall felt huge when you first stepped in, itâs suddenly claustrophobic. You canât stand being here anymore, willing yourself to gain enough mobility to crawl up and push the cursed book back to where you found it.Â
âHello, again,â a familiar voice says.
You go still. Leaning on the bookcase for support, as you linger your fingertips on the volume.
âHow long have you been there?â Your voice is weak, hoarse from dehydration. Youâre still facing the bookshelf, too anxious to turn around.
âI only just arrived.â James says simply. He whispers your name, a command for you to look his way. âWill you let me see you? That was our deal, was it not?â
âI donât need your statement anymore.â You somehow breathe out.
Youâve memorised the escape route from when you walked in, a habit youâve picked up since childhood.Â
âYouâre leaving already?â He asks. If you could see him, youâd see the pout painting Jamesâ lips too. âBut weâre only starting to have fun.âÂ
You close your eyes in defeat.
Itâs impossible to resist. Itâs intoxicating how his voice coaxes you to abandon all ideas of exiting, and instead, face him.
âThere she is.â James almost sighs, as he steps closer. âYou look pretty, in this light.âÂ
He stops right in front of you, and you press your spine further into the bookshelf.Â
James looks divine, too. His features are even sharper against the shadows, with only his eyes changedâa stark difference you notice only because you were staring at them so intently earlier. Theyâre topaz now, and as he watches you take him in, you can feel your heart bursting in your ribcage.Â
Youâre scared, oh, youâre so scared.Â
Youâve never given thought to how you would die, coming to Forks has changed this in the span of a day.
âYep. I still look scary if I donât smile.â James tells you. His grins will be earned though. He canât seem to stop them from appearing every time heâs with youâhis dimples coming out from hiding, the way he steps out from the dark.
âYufan,â you say before you can stop yourself.Â
His head flickers back; in surprise, in disbelief, in aweâneither of you know. Heâs quiet for a beat. Glancing between your eyes, dangerously close to you. And then, slowly;Â
âNo one has called me that name in a long time.â
James is silent again, and you realise heâs listening. You force yourself to not think of the portrait, but of course, trying to not think of something, makes it flash in your head like a screen just for his eyes.
A small curl at the tip of his lips again, âI knew you were a smart girl.âÂ
âThatâs all you have to say?â You swallow.Â
âI didnât know they printed that.â He says more to himself than in response to you. âI should probably get rid of it when Iâm done with you. Would be a problem if others connected the dots, don't you think?â
You can only nod. Youâre still fearing for your lifeâyou donât want to question what his middle phrase means, because something has fused within this feeling; pure want.Â
Having him so impossibly close, the tip of his nose nudges yours.Â
You pull your face back, head now hitting the volumes of books.Â
âJames, youâre freezing.â You say astonished, reaching one hand to cautiously place it on his cheek. It stings you to touch.Â
Your palm isnât as warm as he wishes it was.Â
âYou too, it seems.â James mumbles.
âWhat?â
Before you can blink, his jacket is slipping off of his broad frame. James brings you forward by the waist, only by a step, to pull it over your shoulders.
His scent hits you even harder, and you feel your knees buckle slightly. The jacket doesnât provide any warmth, given it was on him this whole time, but the way it envelopes you, and how his arms find their way on either side of you to push you back up against the bookshelf again is making your body heat up uncontrollably.Â
âJames,â You start, shaking your head as if denying this as reality. âOr Yufan. Who are you? What are you?âÂ
âWe donât need to say it out loud.â
These dismissals are only making you think more rationally, which youâre grateful for.Â
âThose boys,â You feel something forming in your throat. You will yourself not to struggle as you ask, âWere you the ones behind their disappearances?âÂ
James only sighs. His newest younger brothers were the last thing he wanted to think about, but heâs swimming through your thoughts and the posters are magnified on all of them right now.Â
âTheyâre okay,â He attempts at reassuring.Â
The confirmation that he really did have something to do with them makes your blood cold. Your mind is going back and forth: run away from him, get closer, run away, get close.
All you can make out now is his name, chanting in your mind like a mantra.Â
This he likes.
âAre you going to do to me, what you did to them?â You ask.
His eyes look away from yours for the first time since he arrived, looking up to think.
âWomen donât deserve to hurt like this,â He states plainly. He shakes his head. âDonât worry, Iâm just going to take care of you tonight. Alright?âÂ
You canât wrap your head around the things heâs saying. Something about hurt, or something about care. To you, the two were the same.
Jamesâ eyes are back on you nowânot your eyes though, only your lips. The sight, makes you look at his. If you tipped forward just slightly, theyâd touch.Â
Youâd be kissing himâthis creature, this monster, this boy.Â
A chuckle at the nicknames, all of them heard endlessly before. He likes your suggestions though, in fact, he has to answer it directly;Â
âDo it.â
James?
âIâm here,â He coos.Â
Get out of my head.
âYou first,â is the last thing you hear, before he closes the short distance and plants his mouth onto yours.Â
James immediately takes your bottom lip as his, claiming ownership, kissing it as if he has millions of times before.Â
One of his hands moves from gripping the bookshelf, his pointer finger tracing the outline of your ear, the other fingers following in suit. His hands drag all the way down across your jaw, until he places it on the base of your neck to tilt your head up.Â
The cold makes you shiver into his mouth, and the small opening allows him to deepen the kiss, all parts of him, aligning with every part of you.
Your hands are delicately scrunched on the edges of his shirt, pulling him closer, no doubt leaving crinkles into the fabric. Your head is spinning as you kiss him back, you canât even focus on any specific detail, heâs all too consuming.Â
James demands attention by tilting his head the other way now, swapping positions with you, tasting you from the other side. Itâs a state of bliss, the two of you have found, and in doing so, youâve both lost track of time.Â
How long has passed?
Minutes?Â
Hours?Â
You donât care. You donât want it to end, even if your breathing is getting heavy as James doesnât let you break for even a second.Â
You feel his teeth graze your bottom lip. You mirror, following his lead, doing the same to him. It tickles at first and you take pleasure in this new, unexplored sensation.Â
That is until, the tips of a sharp one pierces through your tender flesh.Â
You gasp in white, hot, pain.Â
You try to pull away, but James has one hand on your neck, the other moving to your waist, locking you in place.
His name comes out of your mouth as a beg, tears brimming your eyes at the sting of how the canine sinks in. His tongue is quick to go over the mark, soothing it, before his lips pucker at the familiar taste, on instinct swallowing what melts out.Â
James smells metal, and the gravity of what heâs done finally hits. His eyes fly open, stepping away from you immediately, moving impossibly quick, he hits the bookshelf youâre standing across.Â
The impact of his body is so hard, a few books come crashing down.Â
Jamesâ expression is one of shock, and his hand reaches up to wipe his mouthâthe drips of blood, mixed with saliva that shine on the back of his palm is enough to fill him with dread. What has he done?
âNo,â he repeats in whispers, over and over. âThat wasnât meant to happen.â
James was only meant to kiss you. He was only meant to be close enough to get a dose of your scent. To touch you, if youâd let him. He was never meant to do this.Â
In a panic, James spills your name out, profusely apologising for his actionsâhis actions you havenât even understood completely, too focused on how red is trickling down your bottom lip, almost reaching your chin.
âJames?â You call out, as a way to calm both yourself, and him down, but it doesnât work. You want to tell him itâs okay, to comfort him into explaining why he looks so distraught.Â
James canât stay here, he canât look at you knowing his poison is pulsing through your veins. You wonât feel it now, just the initial sting, but youâll feel it soon enough, and he canât be around to watch.Â
His head is shaking and your fear earlier is nothing compared to how he has you now. Youâre confused, and youâre anxious, you just want him to hold you again.Â
You know he knows youâre thinking this.
Itâs why him vanishing in the next passing heartbeat hurts even more.Â
The light from the lampshade stutters, and you have to train your eyes to stay on the fallen books, and wrap his jacket around you even tighter, to convince yourself he was real.Â
You leave the library in the state James left it in too; the workers tomorrow will be concerned at the drops of crimson staining the carpet.Â
You donât remember the short walk back to the motel room, the hours you laid wide awake in the hard bed, or the girl who somehow manages to functionally wipe away last nightâs mess and force food down her throat as the sun rises above Forks.
Itâll be the last time you see the sun. You donât know it for certain, but you can feel itâyour intuition, saying its farewell, as it leaves you now, too.
You only gain back a sliver of human consciousness when Chief Swan pins a new poster to the community board of the motelâs breakfast diner. You wonder how long itâll be until you have a matching one tooâit seems James got to work after he left you stranded. The poster, a confirmation of it. Five words peek out from the boyâs printed photograph.
đ¨đŽđŁđ¤đĽđ¨đđ¨× juhoon x fem!reader, highschool au, childhood friend!martin to ??
[part two]
×â°â⤠without the apple of her eye, yn is completely blind to the fact that sheâs become a shell of a person. even in escapism, yn is tormented by the manifestation of her own grief. it seems as though her own classmates are afraid of her sudden outbursts, except for one familiarly-unfamiliar face, who seems to care more than she remembers.
đđđŁđ§đ× : ĚĚâ angst, hallucinations, allusions to shizophrenia, death - fluff if you squint and walk really far away đŹ/đ× : ĚĚâ 4k
×â°â⤠hi tumblrâŚ. first fic ever kinda nervy⌠feel free to send in feedbackâŚlike and reblog!! enjoyyyyy
juhoonâs glimmering eyes used to hold hers for hours upon hours, but in a fleeting movement, they left hers; and soon, hours without him stretched into days. the days melted into weeks, and every waking second blurred into oblivion. grief works in strange ways. life-augmenting ways. it has the power to mutate euphoria into something more akin to fathomless, soul crushing anguish. and it stalked her with every breath that filled her lungs.
juhoon was light years more than just another person in her life. he was a constant - a gravitational presence; the epitome of sunshine incarnate; and he had eyes that always managed to catch her longing gaze without fail.
but he left without a farewell, and she knew that nothing she did, could fill the achingly, endless void he left behind. so she slept. she slept, and she slept, in hopes that she could just live in her dreams instead. with him, since it was the only place she could see him again. in a way, it was like her subconscious spared her from the cycle of torment, relieving her mind with the one thing she lived for; the reason she would ever make the effort to show up. his eyes. the very eyes that she swore could heal souls with a single glance. the ones with the thin rings of auburn that would burn golden in the sunlight. the ones that always seemed to give him away when he was holding back a laugh. she often found herself studying the way the skin under his waterline crinkled in the most perfect way, that only made her stare longer - so long that she thought their very essences would intertwine and become one. in her (almost) perfect dream one night, she relived a day they shared. the day he picked his neighbours flowers for her. they were shrivelled, and practically dead, but it gave them their first shared laugh and the first feeling of deep appreciation she had ever felt. everything was almost as she remembered it, but she noticed that something in those devastatingly perfect irises flipped - darkened. with a blink, his likeness was stripped and replaced with something inhuman, something too dark to even comprehend. something was terribly, disastrously wrong. the darkness lunged towards her, its gaunt, freakishly-long limbs cracked into erratic shapes, like it was feeding off her horror. its talons cinched around her neck, as an ominous hum grumbled in her ear until it came to a piercing screech:
âwhy didnât you save him?â
she gasped for air, opening her mouth to scream for help, but nothing came out. it was like her own voice was afraid of her. ynâs arms flailed, frantically trying to find support, but never reaching anything - only fist-fulls of air. she fought with every ounce of will left in her body, just so the howling her head would calm down. as she pried its fingers off her neck, memories of the real juhoon flashed before her: the way his voice sounded, humming over his favourite daniel ceaser song; the way his fingers effortlessly dashed across the keys of any piano he could find. she leaned into the gentle sounds of his voice and the smoothness of the piano, as if they were really there. gradually, the sound of her subconscious taunting her lulled to a quiet hum, the grip on her throat fell. the remnants of ynâs salty tears trickled down her face as she sat up. her eyes trained on the dark wall in front of her bed, noticing a tail, of sorts, tuck behind her dresser. whatever had been taunting her for the past few months - had made itself known. and it was here to stay.
âJust get over it,â they would say to her. âItâs apart of His plan; Heâs in a better place now.â how could they seriously think she would accept that? how dare she even try accept that. how dare she delude herself into accepting that this utter torment was in her âplanâ, all along. how dare she let them trick her into thinking she was strange for feeling so deeply for juhoon, even when he gave her the exact same, just by existing.
the days (more accurately: weeks) that followed seemed to drag on. the dreams that used to comfort her the most, became the most terrifying inevitability that she could fathom. that thing just went in horrendous loops, repeating the same five words over and over. however, it always found new, daunting ways to snap its extremities and claw at her fragile conscience. she stopped sleeping. instead, she found herself staring endlessly into the void, never even sparing a glance for her worried mother checking in every now and again. this way, she thought, her mind could be⌠still. but without fail, it would always drift back to juhoon.
eventually, her school called, worried for her final grades. they called and called... and called some more. they called so many times in fact, they started bargaining with her. if she âattended just one class,â theyâd award her with a $20 cafeteria voucher (and a passing grade). though she scoffed and hung up before the poor receptionist could finish their sentence - she gave in. albeit, begrudgingly. her mother was the one who carried her from her spot on the edge of the couch, to the car. she had barely noticed the car starting, or even the trees passing by. all her brain let her focus on were the people playing at the community basketball court. yn only blinked once every few minutes, as her thoughts consumed her yet again. âju liked basketball. i shouldâve played it with himâ. without another breath, she slipped out of the car like she was on autopilot. she weaselled her way through her high schoolâs crowded hallway, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of how every possible set of eyes were on her - except the ones she yearned for, so desperately. their eyes prickled on the back of her neck, making the hair stand on its end. she caught a glimpse of her grief-torn face in the polished wall-tile as she searched for her locker. her sunken, dark eyes, slightly hollowed cheeks and over-bitten lips were more than visible, but not a soul dared to ask. thatâs when she sensed it again: that darkness that loomed over her, preyed on her every move, and bet on her inevitable collapse. the walls started to warp. the staring faces elongated in uncanny ways. yn wearily glanced at the poster beside her locker, the one advertising the next school play, watching how the words morphed - they rearranged and took on new forms that certainly wouldnât have been written by the drama committee.
âheâs never coming back.â
âyou canât survive without him.â
âeverything reminds you of him, canât you just let go?â
the words sounded suspiciously like the ones that haunted her mind whenever it got a little too quiet. unfortunately, she was just too fragile to handle it. her hands crowded her face, hiding the selfish tears that ran rampant over her entire face. her whole body shook as she buried herself into someoneâs shoulder- hang on. whose shoulder is this? her blurry eyes lifted, with the same caution as a traumatised stray. her eyes caught on a few spiky, blonde strands before they hurriedly follow the line of their jaw, watching it move frantically, but the sound coming out was drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears. she braced for something, and squeezed her eyes so tight it could cramp until it was bearable. soon, she found herself plunging back into this spiky-haired boyâs shoulder. she huffed increasingly uneven breaths in and out, as she struggled to find the light again. the pounding in her ears roared and her nails fiercely dug into the boyâs arms with a grip rivalling that of a silverback gorilla. the boy didnât even seem to notice the crescent-moons that marked his forearms. perhaps he was more focused on finding a way to calm her down. ynâs head thrashed. her eyes were attacked with psychedelic patterns, like the ones she used to see in juhoonâs kaleidoscope when they were younger. the tears stung her face. the distressed stares of the passersby felt like lasers burning the surface of her skin. she felt the sickening sense of dread taking a hold of her body once again.
âhey, hey, hey. breathe, breathe.â a voice hushed her, it oozed like honey down her ears, a breath hiccupped in her throat when she felt the unfamiliar brush of a hand over the back of her unkempt hair, which somewhat eased the harsh furrow in her eyebrows. her red-ish eyes flicked across the face that the voice was supposedly coming from. she still heard the uncontrollable trumping of her pulse, but the tears slowed. eventually.
â..there she is.â he whispered, his whole presence becoming profoundly familiar again, as her eyes flicked across his face - like she might have seen him in a photo, shown by her friend in a fleeting movement where she only caught his grin. she mumbled something incoherent at him, probably along the lines of: âwho are you?â - to which he just shook his head, as a breath of a smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. it seemed forced, especially when the rest of his face twisted with solicitude.
âdo you uh- mind letting go?â he vaguely nodded toward his arms, keeping his voice as soft as he could manage. it looked like he would be marked with red, âcâ shapes for several hours. she cleared her throat, (but immediately regretted it when she felt it burn with hoarseness) and let her hands fall to her shaky sides. the strangely familiar boy led her to her next class, with an arm steaming her along the way. she didnât remember telling him where, exactly it was, but with her legs constantly giving in - she wasnât at liberty to question his kindness.
she mentally clocked out of science, even though she clawed at strands trying to focus. but when the lesson is about emotional distress physically altering the body, itâs a little hard to focus on anything but juhoon. âthe heart,â the teacher started, glancing around the room, âcan change shapes when youâre under extreme emotional stress - fittingly, its called âbroken heart syndromeâ. pretty sure i had this when my husband âŚâ the teacher lost trust in her voice towards the end of her sentence when it wobbled uncontrollably. maybe someone did understand?
â- losing someone is the worst pain you could ever experience. and it happens more than once,â the teacher choked. because, of course this was the discussion that was happening. âyouâll have to go through it again, you canât afford to love too hard - theyâll just leave you in agonyâ - were the words that broke through her dissociative state. her eye twitched. once. twice. again.
sheâs right, you know. a voice she had grown all-too-familiar with tingled in her ears again.
the teacher had long since switched topics, but her mind dwelled on their rant. she already broke that day. she couldnât possibly do it again. what if her classmates look at her weird? what if they called the counsellor? her head plunged onto the desk, before anyone could see tears well up again. her friends noticed the soft âthunkâ it made, but failed to investigate further. at least, she thought. maybe the âare you okayâs were too hushed for her to recognise over her ragged breaths.
she managed to sneak out after the bell, free of any stray glances - not so free of the unsure whispers, though. her legs didnât take her far, instead, they buckled at the knees behind the science building. she tried her usual strategy of squeezing her eyes as tightly as possible to prevent more water falling down her face, but that worked about as well as the banqiao dam in china did. the tears continued to silently stain her cheeks, as her body sunk into the brick wall behind her.
she didnât intend for her eyes to stay shut. she didnât intend on falling asleep. and when her eyes fluttered open again, she certainly didnât intend on seeing him. a figure stood statuesque in the empty atmosphere. the white-ish robes seemed to glow, with fog clinging to its sides. his eyes twinkled. like they always had. his hair curled a little at his nape. everything was almost normal. his energy seemed off. still, a relieved sigh rushed out of her mouth as she hurried towards him, choosing not to acknowledge that this wasnât real. with her arms out, she could almost smile.
âju! iâm so⌠glad youâre - god - i missed you,â the words stumbled out of her mouth, almost like her brain was moving faster than her lips could. with every breath that huffed out of her mouth, a weight was lifted off of her chest. she was levitating, and with each long stride, she only got higher. he was right there, and the thought of finally feeling normal again was standing right beside him. she kept running. and running. and.. running? each second stretched a little too long. the walls continued infinitely. her desire to be near him again was a raging current that swept away all inhibition. tears tickled the corners of her eyes again and at this point, she was beyond the reach of decorum - juhoon was the only thing that mattered. the wrinkles in parentheses of her mouth that were more than permanent now - didnât matter. the voices that echoed in the darkness that told her to be cautious didnât matter. one second, his white robes glistened in the artificial light, like he was the only thing that deserved it. but yn didnât notice because those damn, auburn rings were so golden, she couldnât dare to look away. that was until a crooked smirk crept its way onto his once serene features, like he was amused by the sheer amount of energy she was wasting in trying to reach him. ynâs steps slowed to a halt, her feet froze on the cold, unwelcoming floor. the edges of the robe burned. the smell of char and betrayal attacked her nose so violently, she couldâve sworn it started bleeding. the robe was scorched and darkness infected every inch of the fabric with a sickly black. her breath stuttered in confusion. her smile was long-gone, and she started urgently calling for him, with a terrifying intensity.
peace constantly taunted her like it was some sort of sick game.
it was a mirage in the distance. just like he was.
her mind no longer a safe place, especially not for him.
her voice rattled violently as she screamed for juhoon, watching the smirk burn up along with his figure. she could plead and bargain with him for centuries, but heâd always be just of reach. the fog and debris settled like he was never there in the first place. like she was in hysterics just because she was crazy. a final, guttural wail tore out of her throat. the sound of her heart shattering thundered into every plane of her existence with a deafening crack. the walls deteriorated into dust, even after she begged any - and every - deity out there to spare her, just this once; let her soul find peace, at least for a couple minutes, so she knows what its like. but it was like her voice was completely inaudible, like her problems were worth nothing to them. silly girl, she forgot this was her plan all along - to be plagued with an eternal nightmare. she anticipated their lack of an answer, as she felt the ground shake turbulently beneath her, along with the hum of imperceivable chatter⌠and a line of steady beeps.
the light grew brighter,
the beeps rang in her skull,
and her hand was profoundly heavy with an unfamiliar weight.
ynâs eyes burned when she pried them open, her hand shook off the strange weight to shield her raw eyeballs from the ivory beams. yn failed to hear the sharp gasp coming from the chair beside her, because she was too focused on clearing the fog in her medulla that made every breath shallow.
âoh - thank god,â a voice mutters, loud enough to make ynâs head snap towards the source. her eyelashes flickered, trying to ease the pain in her vulnerable pupils as she studied the face beside her.
ââŚju?â she mumbled groggily. yn knew it was wrong, her juhoon would never wear his rings like that. a pang of something weighed on his chest, but he forced his face into a neutral expression. for all of 3 seconds. then, he leaned forward as the bleached strands tickled his forehead and his harshly furrowed eyebrows. the way her name left his mouth, like it was something sacred, made something twist in her - even though her mind was primarily on juhoon. little did she know, the unprompted kindness that slipped off his tongue, would slowly chip away at the idolisation of her first love.
âmartin.â he corrected gently, missing the way his voice shook.
martin? that martin? as in: the boy who played cars with her? the boy who braided messy plaits into her much-curlier hair? the boy who used to cry everyday at pickup, without fail? that martin?
he knew that everything about his appearance had changed - from the way his jaw angled, to the way the top of his head bumped almost every doorway. but the way his lips stretched into that wide, childish grin, had never changed. he swallowed down the tightness in his throat - to no avail. his knee bounced, slightly brushing the bed her body laid in, waiting for any sign that she recognised him. soon, his slender fingers found the intricate metal that decorated his opposite hand, and he slid them in circles, so he wouldnât tap anxiously on the rubbery rails that enclosed her bed.
she was very aware that her memory was solely focused on juhoon and somewhere along the line, sheâd forgotten to let other people exist in her mind, too. therefore, she left martin to be swept into her mind´s deep corners - the ones where the neuron paths didnât link as often. but he didnât forget her, not for a second.
even after he moved a couple cities over, he was still captivated by the girl he shared all of his treasured memories with. he kept every little, sloppily-made thing her once-chubby hands put together. every photo their mothers took of them on that old instant camera (that was definitely still on his shelf), every toy they stole from the toy box. they travelled with him, through every phase that his teen years put him through. and he always made sure to reattach the sparkly ribbon to the cardboard box they haphazardly customised before he left. he used whatever he could find: tape, glue - once, he used the slime his older sister made to reattach it. he would do anything to preserve those memories of her. he knew he clung on tight. he also knew that if he ever told her, there was a possibility she might grimace in disturbance. but it never moved him to throw away that pesky box, even if one of the side-walls were peeling off. he faintly remembered juhoon, and even as a little boy, he was just so quiet he almost faded into the background. he remembered that little yn never let him, because her infectious giggles always put a spotlight on her and every little person around her. of course, they all shared their mostly-deteriorating toys. they spent almost every second together - with the help of their mothers becoming practically inseparable. but one day, martin moved away and he never got the chance to play with his friends again. he couldnât help but let the silence get to him, and make him wonder: what did i miss out on?
from the second that he saw her earlier that day, he could tell she was suffering. from the slump in her shoulders, to the way her slipper-clad heels dragged across the floor. he never once imagined their reunion would unfold like this: with her in a ball, unconscious behind the science building, and now, hardly conscious in that over-sterilised hospital bed. now as he was alone with his thoughts, he wondered how he recognised her in the first place. maybe it was the flecks of green buried in her irises, maybe it was the way her skin still reminded him of those caramels they used to share in their hand-made box forts. but she looked so hollow, and she was too exhausted to flash a smile at the people she passed in the hallway. she lacked her spark. it struck something in him, that he had never felt before. thatâs when he found that his new locker was next to hers. he kept a close eye on her, by (not so) subtly craning his neck over her lockerâs door, peeping at her timetable, with her none the wiser. he heart stumbled over unrhythmic beats when he noticed her standing unnaturally still - like a deer in headlights. when she started sobbing, he waste another second before scoping her into his arms. even if she had zero clue who he was.
her body seemed to shut down in the hospital bed again, after dwelling on his identity for a couple minutes. a while later, her mother arrived - noticeably disheveled from her day at work. let out a deep, worried sigh as she entered the room. martinâs eyes never left ynâs sleeping body, like he was scared she would disappear if he blinked. ynâs mother seemed to have that same twinkle of recognition in her eyes, but this time she called out his name as she sat beside his twitchy figure. her light hand covered his fidgeting ones, with a knowing look scribbling over her matured features. reluctantly, he turned to her as they shared a quiet moment of apologetic murmurs. as the hours ticked by, and he was left with just her - the moon grew higher in the sky and visitor hours came to a close. as much as he resisted leaving, he was reassured by her assigned nurse that sheâd be out in no time, they just needed to run some tests.
that night, sleep claimed him stubbornly.
on one hand, he was so relieved that he found her again. on the other, he was sick to his stomach just thinking that everyone let her suffer in solitude for so long.
he vowed that he wouldnât leave again, not when she so clearly needed someone.
your eyes are drier than mine, thatâs a first [click 4 part 1!]
đ¨đŽđŁđ¤đĽđ¨đđ¨× childhood friend!martin x fem!reader, highschool au, slow burn, miscommunication, grief
×â°â⤠after a less-than gut wrenching reunion, martin takes on her pain as if itâs his own. he even volunteers to tutor her, to make up for all the schoolwork she missed out on - even if his teaching isnât the best. but when the study sessions turn into her talking about juhoon like he created the universe, he canât help but feel a little conflicted with his own feelings.
đ;đŁ× ×â°â⤠welcome 2 part 2! yes⌠ik itâs been like 3 months since part 1 so READ IT AGAINâŚ.plz. also shout out malcom todd because i listened to every album multiple times while writing ts âŚ. if you couldnât tell⌠enjoy!!
it was only a couple days into the new month and martin had already fallen into an almost obsessive routine: heâd get up for school, ask ynâs friends about her whereabouts (to no avail), then heâd check his phone for any messages from her (even though he had never even given her his number). he just had to make sure she was okay, because it was the only thing he could possibly focus on.
his family noticed he was off by the way his eyebrows furrowed more often in the mornings. his sister commented on his unusually broody mood one morning, before dropping him off at school. âspending too much time on that phone, huh?â she chuckled, but the lack of a reaction made her throat clear wryly. âcricketsâŚ.â she muttered, as martin slammed the carâs door without even bothering to reply. yn skipped the entire week after her incident last week, and martin became so anxious he practically shut down. how was he supposed to react? the last time he saw her, she had those tubes strewn across her frail body â while the nurses practically hovered outside the door. he had no way of checking on her, so he was stuck in his own head wandering what she could possibly be doing.
she just came back into his life, and heâll be damned if he lets her go that easily.
she didnât intend on staying home the whole week. but it started so easily, she actually felt refreshed after her long-overdue rest in the hospital. that freeing feeling lasted about a day. instead, it was replaced by pure, unrestrained dread. and soon again, her body began to crumble under an imaginary force. the ungodly creature that forced its stygian shadows to coat the walls of her bedroom was making its presence known. she muttered something defiant, like âgo away,â but the with the way her voice shook, it was enough to make the creature tick in amusement, like it wasn't affected in the slightest. if anything, it fed on her nervousness. without much warning, the atmosphere became almost hellish. the sun hid behind the clouds like itâs own safety was compromised, and the floor under her shaky feet turned inky black. yn was convinced that it would open to an endless void at any moment. her eyes squeezed shut to protect herself from seeing what was wrapping around her leg, and squeezing her lungs with more force than she was used to. with a ragged exhale, she tried thinking of more vivid memories to distract herself from the impending sense of panic. not memories of her breathing tubes being tied in knots at the hand of the creature - ones that were coated in rosy hues and filtered sunlight. ones with juhoon. the first memory that came to mind was made a couple years ago:
she had finally received a bicycle for her birthday. it was minty-teal, with one of those (completely useless), plastic baskets attached to the handlebars. juhoon had subtly dropped hints about wanting to go biking through the local park together. maybe âsubtlyâ was the wrong choice of words. he had nagged her for the 3 weeks leading up to her birthday to âplease ask for a bike.â and thatâs how they ended up riding across the local overgrown footbridges in the afternoon sun. there was a small lake at the centre of the park they frequented during the day. now, as the sun hovered over the horizon lazily, the water glistened under the soft, pink sky dreamily. the water reflected all of its purple-ish blues too, and they danced over the gentle waves that lapped at the shore. she managed to snap a photo of juhoon standing beside his respective bike, with his back facing the camera and his hand midway through brushing his hair off his forehead. the diffused, golden light draped over him from behind, as he was completely distracted by the family of ducks swimming in the distance.
a light, airy laugh tumbled out of her mouth the moment she was caught. he didnât say anything, he just flashed her a suspicious look as a smirk pulled the corner of his mouth up. she was still giggling as she made her way over to him. juhoon met her halfway and soon, yn was pulled into a tight embrace that smelt like warm vanilla and familiarity - and the sour candy he snuck into his jacketâs pocket. she laughed until she was breathless and he couldn't deny the stupid grin that rested on his face, because this was the most comfortable she had ever been with him. little did yn know, this was the last memory that flashed before him in his last moments.
as if a spell was broken over the cursed land- the air around her stopped buzzing so furiously and the saturation returned to a normal hue as she came back to reality. her vision took a while to return, but she managed to watch as the creature clicked in frustration as it seeped back into her floorboards - where it laid dormant in hopes to attack again when she was vulnerable.
âśď¸ â˘áá||á|á||||á|⢠back at school
martin trudged through the schoolâs dim hallway with his hoodie hiding his messy, blonde hair. his beaten-dcâs dragged across the tiles with each, dreading step. occasionally the rubber soles would squeak uncomfortably, but it wasnât like he heard it over the music playing in his ears anyway. it his usual playlist, only a little louder, like he was subconsciously trying to distract himself from his worried thoughts. as he approached his locker, his hazel eyes fixed on the open door beside it. his eyebrows twitched up, with a relieved sigh falling from his lips as his steps quickened. immediately, it was like colour was allowed to register in his brain, as he noticed the morning sun paint liven up the white walls with its colour. as she lightly closed her locker, she was stunned with a familiar grin. he noticeably startled her, and he murmurs a brief apology before greeting her with newly-softened eyes.
âhow are youâŚ. feeling?â he asked, sounding more concerned with her wellbeing than she was. his sincerity caught her off guard a little. she brushed a hand through her hair as if it could collect her thoughts for her. should she tell him the truth? or just brush him off with a polite smile and an easy lie? she was leaning towards the latter, but the way he was already leaning into the metal of his lockerâs door made her strangely comfortable enough to just tell him.
âi canât say iâm good, yet..â she admitted, âbut, iâm better. the doctor said my body was just⌠taking advantage of the sleep.â she nodded, dodging his eye contact as she spoke. they both knew that there was a little more to it, but he was perfectly satisfied with the fact the sheâs breathing. she opened her mouth to hastily thank him for staying by her in the hospital, but she just couldnât get over the sense of shame it brought her. it wasnât the fact that she was ashamed of him, it was the fact that: a boy she hadnât bothered to recognise, saw her in such a state most of her family and friends never had. and, that the same boy went out of his way to make sure she was okay, but she never once did the same throughout the years of separation. she knew it was silly to blame herself for not keeping in touch - since they were both so young when he left. so, when he offered to tutor her a couple days later, she felt obligated to say yes. even though she was already promised a passing grade, she told herself that she needed to earn it, just like everyone else.
martin told her to meet him in the library after last period concluded. a little part of him lit up in surprise when he saw her actually wander through the door and sit in the chair opposite of him. he noticed that her eyes were tinged with red, and he wouldâve checked in with her - if she didnât beat him in asking: âso, whatâs first?â he hesitantly put it off for now, so he could start going through his notes. martin was a good student. maybe even a great one. his homework was always turned in on time, heâd get Aâs on every report card, not to mention, the all the staff loved him .... which was why it was so surprising when he turned out to be an abysmal teacher. heâd confuse the both of them with his explanations. sometimes heâd chuckle to himself nervously, before backtracking desperately. and yes, it was annoying at first, but she couldnât help but find his blabbering somewhat endearing. the first session was rocky at best, but she felt a spark light in her. just a little one - enough to motivate her to start showing up on time.
yn felt a small weight lift off her chest, with the (adequate) help of martin. even though sometimes it seemed like he had zero confidence in his explanations of trigonometry, she slowly started to remember what all the numbers and symbols meant. every step, he asked if she was doing okay. most of the time, heâd be referring to the distant glint in her eye, but sheâd answer regarding her progress on the question she was working through. with the next couple sessions that filled the rest of the week, martin started putting more effort into his notes for her. he even began printing worksheets for her - and embellishing the corners with his signature graffiti-style handwriting. in retrospect, it wasnât a lot of change, but the additional effort meant more to her than he realised.
after class about a week later, yn stopped by her locker to rummage through her pencil case - looking for nothing in particular, when she heard a jingle of a belt chain approaching.
âhey,â martin called out softly as he leaned on his own locker, watching her with a quiet smile. she greeted him in return with a nod, before he offered his phone to her: âdâyou think i could get your number? just so that we can⌠plan our study sessions out?â he suggested gently - his voice always seemed to lower whenever he spoke to her â not that she ever noticed. without further excuses, she extended her hand out to grab the phone from him, nodding slightly. she didnât even notice the grin tugging on the corner of her mouth, until she caught a glimpse of it in the phoneâs reflective screen. she almost forgot what it looked like. what it felt like. martin caught the end of it, mentally taking a photo of it to keep in the forefront of his mind before she forced it off her face with a saddening pace. after testing the new numbers with success, she left with the promise that sheâd text him when she got home. in the moment, it was an easy thing that rolled off her tongue. but in practice, it was forgotten entirely in her preoccupied mind.
her mind was so busy that night with the simple question: how could a simple action light up her day so easily? his gentleness made her ⌠nervous? it was a light, fluttery feeling that brushed through her stomach and crept up her neck - until she spoiled it for herself as usual. she was still shackled to juhoon. or just the thought of him. she never allowed herself feel happy, like it was disrespectful to him. like the thing would come back and punish her for feeling something he could never feel again. she could already feel itâs talons crack around her throat, as the tears burned her eyes ⌠like the fire that burned in juhoonâs fireplace every winter. she wondered when if it would ever end, if peace and happiness were real things she could feel.
on the other side of the city, martin laid awake, staring at the empty inbox on his phone, (not so) patiently awaiting a text from her. the text never came. at least, not in the couple of hours he spent checking his phone. he couldnât help but feel a pang of disappointment in his chest. âwhat am i doing?â he questioned himself out loud, as he tossed his phone onto the the table beside him with a clatter. his hands dragged down his face as he reflected on his borderline-obsessive actions. itâs been just-over a couple weeks since the hospital incident, but for some reason, he was still overly gentle and observant â to the point where his voice permanently maintained that same softness whenever she was around. he didnât want his worry to come off as pity, because he cared.
another week came and left, they studied, she cried - the usual.
the weekend made time feel too empty, especially with her parents off doing more important things. yn was confronted by the sense of loneliness she had been shrugging off for the past couple ours. and while the afternoon sun cast a soft, pink glow over her room, she was slumped over by the pile of letters that had accumulated by her bed. it was almost up to her waist; some were soaked in her tears, some were crumpled from the nights sheâd written for so long that she fell asleep onto of them and crushed the fragile paper. she wrote one short note to juhoon about a month after he passed, but now she writes every time she felt that uneasy feeling creeping up on her - which soon became several times a day. with a sniffle, her fingers reached for the one sitting sadly on the top of the pile. already, her eyebrows clashed together, just reading the contents of it:
dear ju,
i know youâll never see this letter, yet iâm still here writing it. i havenât been the same since you passed. i miss you. oh, my sweet juhoon, i miss you so much that it physically hurts. thereâs so much i want to tell you. thereâs so much i wish i knew about you. iâm still trying to accept the fact you ran out of time to teach me in this life. it all just feels like some sort of dream i canât escape. i cant even think clearly anymore, because itâs always watching me, no matter what i do. itâs turning you against me. i know itâs not really you. at least, i hope. martin tries so hard to make me feel comfortable, iâm sure he knows everything â but i can still see that flicker of fear in his eyes whenever it takes over. i really donât know how to stop it, and sometimes acceptance feels like a cruel joke, but if i ever figure it out, iâll come back for you. to make things better. i promise.
yours, forever, in this life and the next,
yn
the paper crumpled slightly where her fingers curled into it, and her head soon fell back with a reverent sigh. she covered her eyes with the back of her other hand as she let out a sob that rattled her throat.
god, she was so pitiful. she hated that she was in this position in the first place, and everyday she craved the sweet relief of an empty mind and a clear conscience.
maybe she was closer to it than she realised.
martin shot her a text after school the next morning. he couldnât stay after school, but maybe, they could take study to his house. she blinked a couple times, making sure she read it correctly. her fingers dashed across the screen with any update she thought heâd need:
just left homeâŚ
5 minutes awayâŚ
walking up your driveway.
she knocked on the door. once. twice. another couple times. was it obvious that she was jittery? maybe just a tad. it didnât help that martin missed her nervous knocking over the music in his ears. after what couldâve been days (about two minutes), he finally opened the door. as if it was a natural reflex, a wide smile stretched across his face as soon as their eyes met. she greeted him with a prompt nod, not trusting her voice enough to say anything.
martinâs home was almost exactly how she pictured it: warm and slightly cluttered, but never messy. as he scurried into the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water, she studied the family photos that stood proudly on the mantle for a while - just like any sensible person would. all she could focus on was the fact that his smile had never changed, not even after all these years. she felt almost sentimental. like his smile was slowly becoming a treasured feature in her mind.
his voice pulled her out of her thoughts, âwhatâs going on in there?â he huffed in amusement, as he poked the side of her head. ynâs eyes snap towards him, suddenly embarrassed that sheâd just gotten caught. a quiet â..nothing!â stumbled out of her mouth, before she quickly redirected the conversation to the studying they were supposed to be doing. he pretended to brush it off as she kept talking, but he caught a glimpse of that twinkle in her eye before she hid her face.
martin set the glass of water on his desk, and they began on the easy topics. his pen glided over the paper calmly (even if he was everything but calm on the inside). and as they settled into a quiet rhythm, it became the only other sound, save for his playlist humming out of his phoneâs speakers. martin didnât necessarily need to tutor her in that moment because it was more like revision for her. still, he couldnât help but scan over her progress every few minutes. you know, just to make sure she wasnât stuck. it wasnât because he just liked seeing her eyebrows furrow when she was equating the numbers in her head ⌠or anything. thankfully, she never noticed him staring, at least thatâs what he thought. first, he seemed way too quiet for everything to be normal. she managed to sneak a couple of sideways-glances to see what he was doing. and just when she was on her fourth peek - he was already watching her. her eyelids burst open, before she turned back to her work, pretending absolutely nothing happened. martin probably did the exact same, because the silence continued to nestle in the corners of his bedroom uncomfortably. yn still had an entire page left to complete, but she was frozen in place like she became a concrete statue. her leg couldnât even twitch away when his accidentally brushed hers, it just made her face grow warmer with each passing second.
yn shifted in the chair next to him after a while of tedious work (and silent panicking). it practically set off a chain reaction, as martin took the chance to stretch his arms behind him with a sigh. finally, it felt like the uncomfortable stillness in the air was clearing â probably because they were both too exhausted to keep it up. âiâm so done with this,â yn whispered, evidently craving something more entertaining. martin fought back a chuckle, as he nodded in agreement.
his forehead crinkled as an idea popped into his head. clicking the computer awake, his hands moved towards the keyboard in front of him, like he was being controlled by a divine force. his hands moved eagerly, clicking the mouse aggressively and making ynâs eyebrow twitch up. âyâknow, iâve been working on something,â martin announced proudly, as he clicked onto what looked like some sort of music production app. that would probably explain the miscellaneous electronics kicking around his room - more notably, his jet black and red electric guitar sitting next to his bed. âhow did i miss that you were so into music?â yn breathed out with a perplexed expression. ânever came up..â martin shrugged in a reply. soon, a smooth sound rumbled in his speakers. she nodded along, her mouth still slightly agape. it was mellow, yet it still had a sense of vibrancy in its bass-line. then his vocals hit her ears. honey. and that was the only word she could come up with to describe it. the lyrics werenât half-baked either. they were poetic and personal, but delivered in a way that theyâd be hard to notice on the first listen. it was so him, she thought. âyou did this yourself?â she watched the screen in awe, until her eyes caught a flicker of pride in his eyes as he answered with a hum. âyou like it?â he asked, already guessing her answer sheerly by the look on her face. âitâs alright,â she lied with a shrug - but the amused huff that followed gave her away. the song was really nothing revolutionary in hindsight, but to her it was special. her approval simmered in his heart, and he bit back a smug grin (but failed). safe to say that the next several study sessions stayed at martinâs house - with the expectation that it would finish with his music vibrating in the speakers.
with every afternoon session, they grew closer - even if they weren't always chatting.
in the lost hours of one not-so-productive-study hangout, martin showed her a couple lyrics he had been working on. they were more thought-out and stood out against his usual laid-back freestyles. her interest piqued on one line: you've got more of my own heart than i got. in the moment, she didn't take them too seriously ... until she just happened to glance at him. for the first time in about thirty minutes, the mischievous smirk faltered slightly. like there were words in his head, but his mouth refused to sound them out. it was only a short second, and soon his lips snapped back into their natural curve.
"...why do you always look so smug for," she comments sarcastically, but her words lack bite and it just makes his smirk deepen.
finals week came and went with surprising ease - but that didnât mean it left yn with a comfortable sense of accomplishment just yet.
martin swiftly took the role of her therapist ⌠unbeknownst to him. she spent every afternoon talking his ear off. sheâd start off with her worries of getting a low score (even though itâs been well established that she would not), which would turn into old friendship drama, then -where it always ended- how she'd spend every second with juhoon. as much as it wouldâve rattled someone else, martin never judged her. only, he'd silently file away all the information to compare himself to it later. because there was an unshakeable feeling, that he could never live up to juhoon's legacy. the boy was just so naturally quiet and gentle, while martin saw himself as the complete opposite. still, he let her rant for hours on end, because it meant he could ramble in return. and that meant more to him than he was ready to recognise.
----
yn woke up in a cold sweat at the mere thought of the results being released later that morning.
before she could spiral completely, she rushed over to the schoolâs pinboard (after stalking the office lady who hung it up). her hand clasped over her mouth as soon as she saw her name a couple places from the top. in fact, she was just one spot above martin. she stared in disbelief until she heard excited shouting behind her. yn didnât even have to turn to know who it was. but as she did anyway, she saw martin barrelling towards her with his arms wide open and his grin wider. she huffs out a laugh before accepting her fate and meeting him halfway. martin practically pounced on her, almost knocking her over. âi'm seventh from the top,â she added as she stumbled back from impact. âiâm so proud. iâve never been so proud.â he announced, his voice coming out muffled in her hair. it was more than a rank. it was a testament to what she could achieve even after less-than-optimal situation. she had lost so much that year, but - as she was beginning to learn - what (or who) she gained would be far more substantial than she would ever realise. her hands hesitated at his back until she gave up and pulled him tighter. for some reason, one of his hands travelled to the back of her head, cradling it like she was a precious gem. he didnât even notice until he started subconsciously smoothing down her hair. it was a habit of his, she soon forced herself to be accustomed with.
he suddenly realised the hug was lasting a little too long to stay in platonic territory. he cleared his throat and slowly pulled back. but it was too late. she was already a flustered mess. the smell of his cologne single-handedly drove her mad. or maybe it was the way she could feel his chest shake with each laugh. she audibly cleared her throat and snapped herself back into the moment.
âsoâŚâ she began, âturns out you are a good teacher?â martin tsks and swats away her - albeit sarcastic - compliment. they both knew there was a lot of room for improvement as a teacher, but clearly they just enjoyed the excuse to spend time together (though theyâd never directly admit it). âmaybe i just had a perfect student..â he replied under his breath, with a hint of something unreadable sparkling in his eyes. the way his head tilted to the side as he studied her expression left her with a lingering feeling that there was something he wasnât telling her.
that night, sleep evaded her again. but this time, it wasnât because of a haunting entity. or maybe it was, because she kept replaying that moment in her head. it shouldâve been brushed off by now. instead it was left to marinate in the corners of her subconscious for her brain to dig up every few minutes.
from then, their increasingly complicated friendship blossomed.
martin rung her as soon as the clock hit twelve, signaling the new year. he cheered riotously, as she hummed in response - admittedly half-asleep, but attempting to reciprocate his boundless energy. he ended the call with an electronic smooch, not realising how it came off until he laid down later that morning.
still, he made it a point to call her every day, especially he was in the middle of shooting poorly-made music videos with his friends.
he'd force encourage her to play basketball with him and said friends after school. yn tried not to think about how juhoon would do the exact same, on this exact court, just a few years ago. oh, how much everything's changed since then. she kept playing, and it ended up being more enjoyable than she expected. maybe it was because - even with all that height, martin couldn't play for the life of him.
but neither could yn, and after the fourth missed shot, she just decided to just sit down and watch instead.
she wasn't left alone for long, though, because after he finally got a hoop, he ran up to her, smile as wide as ever and just voice as loud. her hands shot up for a double hi-five, but martin just held them in his own, as he shifted on both feet, rambling about his "very skillful" shot.
she couldn't remember laughing this hard before.
maybe, just maybe, she thought, i deserve to feel happy.
-----
their first weekend hangout landed a couple weeks into the new term of school. she wasn't in need of a tutor anymore, since she was technically caught-up now. but martin had a secret goal of wanting to see more of her come out of that shell. he didn't even know if she had hobbies or not. well, it would change that day.
they hung out in his room as per usual, but this time, she was really eyeing that gorgeous red and black guitar of his.
"what... wanna play it?" he questioned, unintentionally mimicking her scanning eyes. she nodded swiftly as a reply. martin got it set up for her, plugging it into the boxy amp that sat under his desk. she strummed a single string and her eyes automatically lit up. and - as if it was muscle memory - her fingers settled on the frets as her opposite thumb swept down the strings again, creating a simple melody. his eyes widened a little in surprise.
"when did you learn that?" he all but gushes. yn's shoulders shrugged, looking just as surprised as he did, "i was in band in like, 5th grade..."
the more you know, he thought. then, for the next hour or so, he taught her one of his favourite songs. one of the cords were difficult to get right; it made her fingers curl awkwardly in all the wrong spots. martin watched with a pained expression tugging on his face, but he waited patiently for her to get it by herself. but when she whined in frustration, he decided he had seen enough of her struggles. he leaned forward, close enough for her to notice the smell of his shampoo immediately. he carefully moved her fingers onto the correct frets, while yn tried not to focus on the way her skin burned where he brushed it. but focusing was impossible when she was holding his guitar⌠in his roomâŚwhile his eyes waited to catch her avoidant ones. her body physically stuttered, like it was trying to rewire itself to focus on anything but the fact that he was so close, she could count his eyelashes.
focus, dammit!
martin almost certainly noticed. he noticed the way her body finally relaxed, her shoulders slumped a little and for the first time, she seemed truly ⌠comfortable. infuriatingly so.
âhey,â he speaks after a brief pause. his voice was deeper all of a sudden. it grabbed her attention and made her head tick up. she watched how his pupils grew, almost instantly as he scanned her face. she could practically see the gears turning in his head, like he knew he was about to say something he couldnât take back. his fingers danced across the back of her hand that rested at the base of the strings, silently asking permission to hold it in his his own. the front of his eyebrows tugged upwards when she granted it. âi-umâŚâ he hesitates as his eyes flutter as if he was manually restarting his brain. so before he could make an excuse, he forced it out.
âi like you.â
a heavy beat passed before she even thought to reply. it was like the room was holding its breath, too.
he visibly gulped. his hands trembled a little. yet, he stayed completely still.
the words caught on her tongue, and before she could stop it- her head shook lightly, as if it would say her conflicting thoughts for her.
ââŚwhat?â he asked lightly, his voice barely making a sound, âwhat does that mean?â his head tilted, like he was trying to read the highly guarded expression on her face. âsay something,â his voice shook, ââŚanything.â but his pleas would remain unanswered. her hand escaped his, and her feet carried her out of the room without before either of them could say something they couldnât take back. martin assumed she just went to the bathroom to collect herself - rather, he hoped thatâs all it was. but when he heard the front door click, it knocked a sense of finality into his fragile brain.
ââ
yn didnât realise just how silent it was in the schoolâs library, until someone laughed loud enough to earn an unimpressed glare from the librarian. it subconsciously made her head snap up toward the sudden sound. thatâs when she saw the recently empty chair opposite of her. her brows clashed together as she blinked onceâŚ. twice. her head swivelled around the room. her eyes landed on every blonde-haired student, but she knew none of them were martin. her breath stalled in her lungs, as her face grew warmer with embarrassment as something she couldnât name made her heart twist.
why does he keep doing this? did i do something wrong? why did it mean that much to him?
as her swirling emotions warmed her face, she stared at the abandoned spot like it would give her all the answers.
he had been doing this the past few days - getting up and leaving, without so much as a âsee you later.â in her brain, she perfectly handled the confession the other day - she left before spewing her emotions everywhere like an uncontrollable fountain. but to him, it was plain rejection. and it hurt more than if she just said no.
she just seemed so painfully unaware of the way his heart cracked into more pieces than he could count. he wanted so desperately to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood the whirlwind of dizzying confusion he was caught in. she smiled like he was worth smiling at, looked at him like he was worth seeing - like nothing happened at all. because after she ran out on him, he stayed in his chair until his back began to ache from the awkward angle. but all he could do was simmer in his own embarrassment and heartbreak until he physically couldnât. so instead of really acknowledging that she could feel the same, heâd just run away. maybe deep down, he thought that if he copied what she did, sheâd feel what he did. martin was born petty, yes. and he was also born wanting love but not chasing it.
and now, they were in a cycle of awkward tension. the tension would especially make the air heavier whenever she tried to bring it up to him. she craned her head around his lockerâs door, a hopeful glint in her eyes as she asked him to explain his behaviour.
âtalk later.â he replied, feigning annoyance, when he was already regretting his harshness.
his regret wasnât stronger than his stubbornness, however. so when she followed up with him later that day he cut her off with a simple yet harsh, âlook - i was just in the moment. i thought i liked you, maybe i just liked your attention - what iâm trying to say is, i didnât mean it. sorry.â martin left her standing there with her feet glued to the floor as her breath stalled in her lungs. the world couldâve crumbled, and sheâd be the only thing left standing. ynâs heart twisted in a way she was well-accustomed to. martin expected her to figure it out herself, so he didnât have to explain the way his heart (and his ego) cracked when she ran out. he called it accountability, she called it immature and stubborn.
one night she scoffed to herself while recalling how sheâd embarrassed herself, yet again by practically begging martin to let her explain in the middle of class. her voice came out in uneven spouts and her hands clasped together as if the lord could somehow make martin snap out of whatever this uncooperative state was. but as expected, she was ignored. completely. he didn't even bother to glance in her direction. it was probably because he knew that if he did, he'd lose all the composure he had been strategically building. he just couldn't acknowledge that maybe he had a part in this, too.
after being continuously shoved away, she finally backed off. she had no idea that heâd switch up so easily. just half a year ago, he was crying by her side in a hospital, and begging the nurses to let him stay until she woke up. and now he was acting like this wasnât worth talking out - like he didnât still have a box of their childhood treasures under his bed.
just like that, a rift had forced its way through them.
with a blink, the first semester of senior year was over. martin had never been so distant. it was like he was so buried in his new life, there was no point in worrying about his old one. and why would he? he had his own band now, and an eye on the lead vocalist.
raya. her and her bright red locks flowed through life without a care, like she knew everyone would bend over backwards for her if she asked. everyone, including martin.
she must have been a comedian on the side - with the way martinâs head would fly back every time sheâd do something even remotely entertaining. yn watched them at lunch, suspecting that he was putting on a show, because he had never laughed this much with her. something uncomfortably out of character settled in the pit of her stomach. jealousy. even if she could see through the facade he was so clearly hiding behind.
raya sung so angelically, youâd think that flowers bloomed where she walked. yn didnât even seem like fair competition. so she didnât compete. she just sat by and watched as martin grew more and more attached to rayaâs hip, even if yn was beginning to resent him.
martin knew what he was doing. he knew he was hurting her. but he kept telling himself that sheâd get over it.
"i don't need her," he'd say to himself, out loud, when he'd catch himself reminiscing about the way she'd twirl her hair around his pen like it was her own. he thought those four words would magically erase all his feelings for her. but they didn't. and even while being glued to raya's hip, martin only wanted yn more. he thought he hid it well. but the side-ways glances in the hall, and 'accidentally' dropping a pen next to her desk made it that much more obvious that martin was just as infatuated as ever.
raya noticed. she'd notice before anyone else. she'd call it out every time, and every time, it would turn into a fight. the fight would last all but one day, until martin would remember why they were together in the first place. so, like the switch-up he was, he come crawling back with an, "i'm sorry, baby" and all would be good.
ââ
graduation was in approximately, two hours. she was surrounded by her peers. most of them probably had it all figured out. they were probably emotionally stable, with their entire futures planned out and clear minds.
but her mind was far from clear, (she was sure by now, that it had always been overworking) and her future was more than uncertain. she was so out of place, like she was a puzzle piece from a completely different box. she imagined that juhoon was there, with a small smile gracing his lips, just as it did a couple minutes before he left this world. in some, round-about way, it brought her a little much-needed comfort.
martinâs band began the ceremony. rayaâs voice drifted out of the multiple speakers scattered around the hall, accompanied by martinâs guitar, the same one he confessed to her over. yn focused her eyes on her shoes, so she wouldnât be forced to look at any of them. and as the song ended, the crowd erupted in to applause, some even whistled or threw their caps onto the stage - to which they were given stern warnings from the principal.
martin and his band gathered in a line and took their bows. while his hand rested on rayaâs lower back, martin scanned the crowd for yn. just to confirm that she was in attendance, of course. not at all to gauge her reaction on the song he wrote and composed ⌠about her. or maybe, deep down he knew it would be his last chance to see her again. his heart settled in itâs usual pit of disappointment when he was hastily ushered off the stage before he could finish scanning. oh, but she saw him. she saw the way his fingers curled around the fabric on rayaâs lower back with more fervour than heâd ever shown. her eye twitched, and she debated retreating to the bathrooms. but she was frozen in place, yet again. something fiery burned in her chest. it was unprotected, and it was angry.
as soon as her cap was tossed, she wondered if her life would just revert to its bland routine of simply existing. but more importantly, how she couldâve saved all this unnecessary conflict from happening.
ââ
what she couldnât say to him, she scribbled onto a piece of paperâŚ. and then stared at it for, god knows how long.
âwhere have you gone now, off with someone new already? as much as iâve tried, and trust me, i did, i donât wanna hate you. but martin, youâve made this so fucking complicated. all because you wouldnât let me speak. i wouldâve told you that i liked you back. i wouldâve -.â
her thumb furiously pressed gripped the eraser as shavings coated the paper, because she refused to admit that she missed him. because that would mean she really did fall for him. that she was moving on, further from juhoon. yn told herself that she wasnât ready for it, at least she tried. maybe, she was just as stubborn as he was.
it was a new year again, and yn was finally getting to where she wanted to be.
the creature's visits were less common, and she had gone a couple months without it returning.
technically, she was better.
she was, until her phone began buzzing on her bedside table.
yn let the call rang out purposefully, as she stared at the caller's id with an unsure expression twisting her face.
the call turned red in her inbox, as it pinged with one last notification.
"hey, itâs been a while. sorry, i know this is sudden.
iâve been seeing you around, yâknow, you seem better. i hope you are.
your eyes are drier than mine, for once. the tables turned, huh?
i think iâm suffocating? itâs like iâm stuck on the past. how pathetic am i? seriously...
i knew you didnât like me how i liked you, because youâre still grieving.
-and i thought i was holding onto you too tight so i just - pushed you away... i lashed out - which is so unlike me. i guess i was embarressed.
god, i regret that every, single day.
then raya was like a quick fix, she was addicting but then it became so obvious that she didnât even like me - i didnât really like her either, but i think i just liked pretending? and for a month or two, it was exhilarating.
then every time i looked at her i just ⌠saw you. and then it wasn't fun anymore. it was like i was stuck in a memory.
every time she smiled, i wished it was you -i wished the joke i made about our science teacher made you laugh, not her.
i texted her and broke it off yesterday. she didnât even pretend to care,
she just turned it on me -
she said i was just in love with you.
which came out of nowhere- is it that obvious? i think thatâs what scared me the most, falling for someone who couldn't have me.
it feels i was thrown into the deep end of a diving and held under.
...you know i canât swim.
iâm so terrified of losing you ⌠even though i probably already have.
and i'm so sorry that i let it happen
âŚ
i wish you were here. i wanna hear your voice. i want to put it in my songs so i can listen on repeat.
sorry, i sound creepy and im running out of time on this voicemail
i love you - bye"
martin's voice sounded so different, it was broken and unusually timid, but was unmistakably him. this had clearly been running on his mind until he couldn't handle it any longer.
the audio played out a couple time as yn stared at her phone until the screen was printed into her corneas - or at least, until her phone grew tired and fell asleep. the warmth in of her fingers created condensation across the back glass as her brain flashed (poorly timed) reminders of her first time in his house, and every extended glance she caught since then. unbeknownst to yn, a seed had planted itself in martin's heart from the very start; and with every, passing second he spent with her, it grew rapidly. until the branches took space in every part of his mind, until it manifested in his eyes and his toothy grin. his pupils would blow wide whenever heâd hear her voice, his eyebrows would clash together in adoration when sheâd nod along to his instrumentals. and how his bottom lip would catch under his teeth as he watched her play his guitar. something she had only caught in this moment. she saw all of it, but her brain refused to acknowledge it at the time. maybe it was trying to protect her. yn's heart clutched with the realisation.
how could he mess it up so horrendously? did he really deserve her forgiveness? because when promises are broken, more resentment settles is the cracks then eventually, it rots your trust from the inside, out.
but she hasn't gotten there, just yet. in fact, there was still a piece of her that longed for him. not in the way she longed for juhoon, no. it was more like that spark turned into a burning flame that would only grow impatient and more furious - one that made her want to write more often; one that made her heart speed up whenever she passed him in the halls. and if she didn't find a way to put that flame out, well, she was screwed.
ââŚdamnit, martin.â she cursed, rubbing circles on her temples like it would cure her martin-induced headache.
----------
âśď¸ â˘áá||á|á||||á|⢠about a year later
she woke up knowing today would be long. not only did she have martinâs music ringing in her head, but she was plagued with the reminder that it had been four years since juhoon took his last breath. thatâs: 1,461 days since his unfairly peaceful end... and two and a half years since she last spoke to martin.
of course, her built-up feelings urged her to write more letters to him. the pile beside her bed would double every week, and quickly, the harshly worded complaints turned into love-sick poems. obviously, martin still thought about her, and the voicemail he left a few months ago still kept them both awake.
as she stepped outside, the winter air crisply wrapped around her in a strangely comforting way. not the in the way wearing his old winter coat comforted her, but in the way that she could hide. sort of. everyone was just more focused on the first snowflakes blanketing every inch of the town - no one even questioned her increasingly reddening eyes (that had nothing to do with the weather). then just by her luck, the snowfall turned torrential, and attacked her face from every direction with little knife-like flakes - not caring for her emotional state in any regard. she wrapped her scarf tighter around her mouth like a mask and continued forward.
she was once again, left with her thoughts.
and as she walked she realised that this feeling wasnât grief anymore. it was the acceptance that juhoon lived in the edges of her mind now, and it was okay. fragile, yes, but less raw â less gut wrenching and more like a walking on a sprained ankle. it hurts for a while and never fully heals - but you learn how to manage.
juhoonâs favourite songs became her own, especially on days such as this. it seemed to lift her mood a little. it put a more pleasant filter over this chapter in her life. a small, unintentional smile settled on her lips. right now, she was only focused on her phoneâs screen and the music soothing her soul. a sigh swept out of her mouth and muffled into her scarf, as her shoulders finally lost their fight to gravity.
she was oblivious to the fact that the soles of her ragged winter boots were giving out. after realising a second too late, her eyes blew open and she ungracefully tried to stop the fall with a few (pitiful) wobbles her arms flailing helplessly. with a painful thud, she collided with the icy asphalt. she huffed as embarrassment heated up her face and sent her pulse racing. she contemplated lying back and letting the snow claim her so she wouldnât have to walk another step. before she could sacrifice herself, footsteps crunched towards her - and soon, a pale hand extended out to her. the arm was accompanied by a slightly raspy: âare you okay?â she timidly took the hand, before hastily brushing off the snow that clung to her jeans. she caught the familiar bling of the chain hanging from his belt loop, before the voice and the face caught up with her.
she had to be hallucinating. her mind totally just mistook this man for martin edwards. right?
âhello?â he waved his hand in front of her face, jokingly trying to regain her attention. but as always, there was a hint of concern woven into his teasing grin.
it took a while for the disbelieving shock to wear off her face, she almost had to manually scrub it off. but, then it settled into the creases bracketing her mouth and the fat under her eyes. as they tracked through the poorly-cleared footpaths, her lips were sealed shut. oddly enough, the tension fizzled away as soon as they crossed into the cemetery where her ex-lover laid. she settled on the wooden bench across from the headstone after clearing the snow with the end of her scarf. martin hesitated, carefully reading over the text that was engraved on the stone with something vulnerable tugging his eyebrows up and the corners of his lips down. her gaze stagnated there, too, even when she spoke. âsit,â she beckoned him, her voice coming out so softly that a gust of wind couldâve carried it away.
there were so many things that couldâve been said: explanations on why their treasured relationship was tarnished by their childish ways; the fact that - no matter how much time passes, they still hold each other in such high regards.
...but the gentle silence proved to be just enough for them to relax in. maybe the tearful apologies could wait (because they were inevitable). his eyes lingered on yn for a second before he finally let up, and joined her on the slightly frozen seat.
several minutes later, the snow ceased its icy parade and settled on the leaves above them like tiny crystalline gems. the wind came to a peaceful hush that lightly brushed martin's freshly-auburn strands onto his forehead, though most of it was held down by that beanie she bought him a couple birthdays ago. yn shifted closer to him, inadvertently seeking both his warmth and shelter. her head lowered onto his shoulder, like it belonged there. like those months of no-contact only existed in their dreams⌠like she was finally remembering what peace felt like. he didnât flinch. instead, he placed his head on top of hers. his eyes fluttered closed - and suddenly the frozen world around them blurred like it was made just for them. for the first time in a while, he let himself live in the moment for as long as he could; breathe air, knowing there was still oxygen left; and take her hand to warm it up in his jacketâs fur-lined pocket without letting his thoughts overpower this moment.
something unguarded bloomed in the serenity, as they let time warp and bend around them without a care for the outside world.
and after however long forever was,
a soothing sense of calm washed over her.
it filled the cracks in her heart, just for the moment, and it loosened her muscles.
your eyes are drier than mine, thatâs a first [click 4 part 1!]
đ¨đŽđŁđ¤đĽđ¨đđ¨× childhood friend!martin x fem!reader, highschool au, slow burn, miscommunication, grief
×â°â⤠after a less-than gut wrenching reunion, martin takes on her pain as if itâs his own. he even volunteers to tutor her, to make up for all the schoolwork she missed out on - even if his teaching isnât the best. but when the study sessions turn into her talking about juhoon like he created the universe, he canât help but feel a little conflicted with his own feelings.
đ;đŁ× ×â°â⤠welcome 2 part 2! yes⌠ik itâs been like 3 months since part 1 so READ IT AGAINâŚ.plz. also shout out malcom todd because i listened to every album multiple times while writing ts âŚ. if you couldnât tell⌠enjoy!!
it was only a couple days into the new month and martin had already fallen into an almost obsessive routine: heâd get up for school, ask ynâs friends about her whereabouts (to no avail), then heâd check his phone for any messages from her (even though he had never even given her his number). he just had to make sure she was okay, because it was the only thing he could possibly focus on.
his family noticed he was off by the way his eyebrows furrowed more often in the mornings. his sister commented on his unusually broody mood one morning, before dropping him off at school. âspending too much time on that phone, huh?â she chuckled, but the lack of a reaction made her throat clear wryly. âcricketsâŚ.â she muttered, as martin slammed the carâs door without even bothering to reply. yn skipped the entire week after her incident last week, and martin became so anxious he practically shut down. how was he supposed to react? the last time he saw her, she had those tubes strewn across her frail body â while the nurses practically hovered outside the door. he had no way of checking on her, so he was stuck in his own head wandering what she could possibly be doing.
she just came back into his life, and heâll be damned if he lets her go that easily.
she didnât intend on staying home the whole week. but it started so easily, she actually felt refreshed after her long-overdue rest in the hospital. that freeing feeling lasted about a day. instead, it was replaced by pure, unrestrained dread. and soon again, her body began to crumble under an imaginary force. the ungodly creature that forced its stygian shadows to coat the walls of her bedroom was making its presence known. she muttered something defiant, like âgo away,â but the with the way her voice shook, it was enough to make the creature tick in amusement, like it wasn't affected in the slightest. if anything, it fed on her nervousness. without much warning, the atmosphere became almost hellish. the sun hid behind the clouds like itâs own safety was compromised, and the floor under her shaky feet turned inky black. yn was convinced that it would open to an endless void at any moment. her eyes squeezed shut to protect herself from seeing what was wrapping around her leg, and squeezing her lungs with more force than she was used to. with a ragged exhale, she tried thinking of more vivid memories to distract herself from the impending sense of panic. not memories of her breathing tubes being tied in knots at the hand of the creature - ones that were coated in rosy hues and filtered sunlight. ones with juhoon. the first memory that came to mind was made a couple years ago:
she had finally received a bicycle for her birthday. it was minty-teal, with one of those (completely useless), plastic baskets attached to the handlebars. juhoon had subtly dropped hints about wanting to go biking through the local park together. maybe âsubtlyâ was the wrong choice of words. he had nagged her for the 3 weeks leading up to her birthday to âplease ask for a bike.â and thatâs how they ended up riding across the local overgrown footbridges in the afternoon sun. there was a small lake at the centre of the park they frequented during the day. now, as the sun hovered over the horizon lazily, the water glistened under the soft, pink sky dreamily. the water reflected all of its purple-ish blues too, and they danced over the gentle waves that lapped at the shore. she managed to snap a photo of juhoon standing beside his respective bike, with his back facing the camera and his hand midway through brushing his hair off his forehead. the diffused, golden light draped over him from behind, as he was completely distracted by the family of ducks swimming in the distance.
a light, airy laugh tumbled out of her mouth the moment she was caught. he didnât say anything, he just flashed her a suspicious look as a smirk pulled the corner of his mouth up. she was still giggling as she made her way over to him. juhoon met her halfway and soon, yn was pulled into a tight embrace that smelt like warm vanilla and familiarity - and the sour candy he snuck into his jacketâs pocket. she laughed until she was breathless and he couldn't deny the stupid grin that rested on his face, because this was the most comfortable she had ever been with him. little did yn know, this was the last memory that flashed before him in his last moments.
as if a spell was broken over the cursed land- the air around her stopped buzzing so furiously and the saturation returned to a normal hue as she came back to reality. her vision took a while to return, but she managed to watch as the creature clicked in frustration as it seeped back into her floorboards - where it laid dormant in hopes to attack again when she was vulnerable.
âśď¸ â˘áá||á|á||||á|⢠back at school
martin trudged through the schoolâs dim hallway with his hoodie hiding his messy, blonde hair. his beaten-dcâs dragged across the tiles with each, dreading step. occasionally the rubber soles would squeak uncomfortably, but it wasnât like he heard it over the music playing in his ears anyway. it his usual playlist, only a little louder, like he was subconsciously trying to distract himself from his worried thoughts. as he approached his locker, his hazel eyes fixed on the open door beside it. his eyebrows twitched up, with a relieved sigh falling from his lips as his steps quickened. immediately, it was like colour was allowed to register in his brain, as he noticed the morning sun paint liven up the white walls with its colour. as she lightly closed her locker, she was stunned with a familiar grin. he noticeably startled her, and he murmurs a brief apology before greeting her with newly-softened eyes.
âhow are youâŚ. feeling?â he asked, sounding more concerned with her wellbeing than she was. his sincerity caught her off guard a little. she brushed a hand through her hair as if it could collect her thoughts for her. should she tell him the truth? or just brush him off with a polite smile and an easy lie? she was leaning towards the latter, but the way he was already leaning into the metal of his lockerâs door made her strangely comfortable enough to just tell him.
âi canât say iâm good, yet..â she admitted, âbut, iâm better. the doctor said my body was just⌠taking advantage of the sleep.â she nodded, dodging his eye contact as she spoke. they both knew that there was a little more to it, but he was perfectly satisfied with the fact the sheâs breathing. she opened her mouth to hastily thank him for staying by her in the hospital, but she just couldnât get over the sense of shame it brought her. it wasnât the fact that she was ashamed of him, it was the fact that: a boy she hadnât bothered to recognise, saw her in such a state most of her family and friends never had. and, that the same boy went out of his way to make sure she was okay, but she never once did the same throughout the years of separation. she knew it was silly to blame herself for not keeping in touch - since they were both so young when he left. so, when he offered to tutor her a couple days later, she felt obligated to say yes. even though she was already promised a passing grade, she told herself that she needed to earn it, just like everyone else.
martin told her to meet him in the library after last period concluded. a little part of him lit up in surprise when he saw her actually wander through the door and sit in the chair opposite of him. he noticed that her eyes were tinged with red, and he wouldâve checked in with her - if she didnât beat him in asking: âso, whatâs first?â he hesitantly put it off for now, so he could start going through his notes. martin was a good student. maybe even a great one. his homework was always turned in on time, heâd get Aâs on every report card, not to mention, the all the staff loved him .... which was why it was so surprising when he turned out to be an abysmal teacher. heâd confuse the both of them with his explanations. sometimes heâd chuckle to himself nervously, before backtracking desperately. and yes, it was annoying at first, but she couldnât help but find his blabbering somewhat endearing. the first session was rocky at best, but she felt a spark light in her. just a little one - enough to motivate her to start showing up on time.
yn felt a small weight lift off her chest, with the (adequate) help of martin. even though sometimes it seemed like he had zero confidence in his explanations of trigonometry, she slowly started to remember what all the numbers and symbols meant. every step, he asked if she was doing okay. most of the time, heâd be referring to the distant glint in her eye, but sheâd answer regarding her progress on the question she was working through. with the next couple sessions that filled the rest of the week, martin started putting more effort into his notes for her. he even began printing worksheets for her - and embellishing the corners with his signature graffiti-style handwriting. in retrospect, it wasnât a lot of change, but the additional effort meant more to her than he realised.
after class about a week later, yn stopped by her locker to rummage through her pencil case - looking for nothing in particular, when she heard a jingle of a belt chain approaching.
âhey,â martin called out softly as he leaned on his own locker, watching her with a quiet smile. she greeted him in return with a nod, before he offered his phone to her: âdâyou think i could get your number? just so that we can⌠plan our study sessions out?â he suggested gently - his voice always seemed to lower whenever he spoke to her â not that she ever noticed. without further excuses, she extended her hand out to grab the phone from him, nodding slightly. she didnât even notice the grin tugging on the corner of her mouth, until she caught a glimpse of it in the phoneâs reflective screen. she almost forgot what it looked like. what it felt like. martin caught the end of it, mentally taking a photo of it to keep in the forefront of his mind before she forced it off her face with a saddening pace. after testing the new numbers with success, she left with the promise that sheâd text him when she got home. in the moment, it was an easy thing that rolled off her tongue. but in practice, it was forgotten entirely in her preoccupied mind.
her mind was so busy that night with the simple question: how could a simple action light up her day so easily? his gentleness made her ⌠nervous? it was a light, fluttery feeling that brushed through her stomach and crept up her neck - until she spoiled it for herself as usual. she was still shackled to juhoon. or just the thought of him. she never allowed herself feel happy, like it was disrespectful to him. like the thing would come back and punish her for feeling something he could never feel again. she could already feel itâs talons crack around her throat, as the tears burned her eyes ⌠like the fire that burned in juhoonâs fireplace every winter. she wondered when if it would ever end, if peace and happiness were real things she could feel.
on the other side of the city, martin laid awake, staring at the empty inbox on his phone, (not so) patiently awaiting a text from her. the text never came. at least, not in the couple of hours he spent checking his phone. he couldnât help but feel a pang of disappointment in his chest. âwhat am i doing?â he questioned himself out loud, as he tossed his phone onto the the table beside him with a clatter. his hands dragged down his face as he reflected on his borderline-obsessive actions. itâs been just-over a couple weeks since the hospital incident, but for some reason, he was still overly gentle and observant â to the point where his voice permanently maintained that same softness whenever she was around. he didnât want his worry to come off as pity, because he cared.
another week came and left, they studied, she cried - the usual.
the weekend made time feel too empty, especially with her parents off doing more important things. yn was confronted by the sense of loneliness she had been shrugging off for the past couple ours. and while the afternoon sun cast a soft, pink glow over her room, she was slumped over by the pile of letters that had accumulated by her bed. it was almost up to her waist; some were soaked in her tears, some were crumpled from the nights sheâd written for so long that she fell asleep onto of them and crushed the fragile paper. she wrote one short note to juhoon about a month after he passed, but now she writes every time she felt that uneasy feeling creeping up on her - which soon became several times a day. with a sniffle, her fingers reached for the one sitting sadly on the top of the pile. already, her eyebrows clashed together, just reading the contents of it:
dear ju,
i know youâll never see this letter, yet iâm still here writing it. i havenât been the same since you passed. i miss you. oh, my sweet juhoon, i miss you so much that it physically hurts. thereâs so much i want to tell you. thereâs so much i wish i knew about you. iâm still trying to accept the fact you ran out of time to teach me in this life. it all just feels like some sort of dream i canât escape. i cant even think clearly anymore, because itâs always watching me, no matter what i do. itâs turning you against me. i know itâs not really you. at least, i hope. martin tries so hard to make me feel comfortable, iâm sure he knows everything â but i can still see that flicker of fear in his eyes whenever it takes over. i really donât know how to stop it, and sometimes acceptance feels like a cruel joke, but if i ever figure it out, iâll come back for you. to make things better. i promise.
yours, forever, in this life and the next,
yn
the paper crumpled slightly where her fingers curled into it, and her head soon fell back with a reverent sigh. she covered her eyes with the back of her other hand as she let out a sob that rattled her throat.
god, she was so pitiful. she hated that she was in this position in the first place, and everyday she craved the sweet relief of an empty mind and a clear conscience.
maybe she was closer to it than she realised.
martin shot her a text after school the next morning. he couldnât stay after school, but maybe, they could take study to his house. she blinked a couple times, making sure she read it correctly. her fingers dashed across the screen with any update she thought heâd need:
just left homeâŚ
5 minutes awayâŚ
walking up your driveway.
she knocked on the door. once. twice. another couple times. was it obvious that she was jittery? maybe just a tad. it didnât help that martin missed her nervous knocking over the music in his ears. after what couldâve been days (about two minutes), he finally opened the door. as if it was a natural reflex, a wide smile stretched across his face as soon as their eyes met. she greeted him with a prompt nod, not trusting her voice enough to say anything.
martinâs home was almost exactly how she pictured it: warm and slightly cluttered, but never messy. as he scurried into the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water, she studied the family photos that stood proudly on the mantle for a while - just like any sensible person would. all she could focus on was the fact that his smile had never changed, not even after all these years. she felt almost sentimental. like his smile was slowly becoming a treasured feature in her mind.
his voice pulled her out of her thoughts, âwhatâs going on in there?â he huffed in amusement, as he poked the side of her head. ynâs eyes snap towards him, suddenly embarrassed that sheâd just gotten caught. a quiet â..nothing!â stumbled out of her mouth, before she quickly redirected the conversation to the studying they were supposed to be doing. he pretended to brush it off as she kept talking, but he caught a glimpse of that twinkle in her eye before she hid her face.
martin set the glass of water on his desk, and they began on the easy topics. his pen glided over the paper calmly (even if he was everything but calm on the inside). and as they settled into a quiet rhythm, it became the only other sound, save for his playlist humming out of his phoneâs speakers. martin didnât necessarily need to tutor her in that moment because it was more like revision for her. still, he couldnât help but scan over her progress every few minutes. you know, just to make sure she wasnât stuck. it wasnât because he just liked seeing her eyebrows furrow when she was equating the numbers in her head ⌠or anything. thankfully, she never noticed him staring, at least thatâs what he thought. first, he seemed way too quiet for everything to be normal. she managed to sneak a couple of sideways-glances to see what he was doing. and just when she was on her fourth peek - he was already watching her. her eyelids burst open, before she turned back to her work, pretending absolutely nothing happened. martin probably did the exact same, because the silence continued to nestle in the corners of his bedroom uncomfortably. yn still had an entire page left to complete, but she was frozen in place like she became a concrete statue. her leg couldnât even twitch away when his accidentally brushed hers, it just made her face grow warmer with each passing second.
yn shifted in the chair next to him after a while of tedious work (and silent panicking). it practically set off a chain reaction, as martin took the chance to stretch his arms behind him with a sigh. finally, it felt like the uncomfortable stillness in the air was clearing â probably because they were both too exhausted to keep it up. âiâm so done with this,â yn whispered, evidently craving something more entertaining. martin fought back a chuckle, as he nodded in agreement.
his forehead crinkled as an idea popped into his head. clicking the computer awake, his hands moved towards the keyboard in front of him, like he was being controlled by a divine force. his hands moved eagerly, clicking the mouse aggressively and making ynâs eyebrow twitch up. âyâknow, iâve been working on something,â martin announced proudly, as he clicked onto what looked like some sort of music production app. that would probably explain the miscellaneous electronics kicking around his room - more notably, his jet black and red electric guitar sitting next to his bed. âhow did i miss that you were so into music?â yn breathed out with a perplexed expression. ânever came up..â martin shrugged in a reply. soon, a smooth sound rumbled in his speakers. she nodded along, her mouth still slightly agape. it was mellow, yet it still had a sense of vibrancy in its bass-line. then his vocals hit her ears. honey. and that was the only word she could come up with to describe it. the lyrics werenât half-baked either. they were poetic and personal, but delivered in a way that theyâd be hard to notice on the first listen. it was so him, she thought. âyou did this yourself?â she watched the screen in awe, until her eyes caught a flicker of pride in his eyes as he answered with a hum. âyou like it?â he asked, already guessing her answer sheerly by the look on her face. âitâs alright,â she lied with a shrug - but the amused huff that followed gave her away. the song was really nothing revolutionary in hindsight, but to her it was special. her approval simmered in his heart, and he bit back a smug grin (but failed). safe to say that the next several study sessions stayed at martinâs house - with the expectation that it would finish with his music vibrating in the speakers.
with every afternoon session, they grew closer - even if they weren't always chatting.
in the lost hours of one not-so-productive-study hangout, martin showed her a couple lyrics he had been working on. they were more thought-out and stood out against his usual laid-back freestyles. her interest piqued on one line: you've got more of my own heart than i got. in the moment, she didn't take them too seriously ... until she just happened to glance at him. for the first time in about thirty minutes, the mischievous smirk faltered slightly. like there were words in his head, but his mouth refused to sound them out. it was only a short second, and soon his lips snapped back into their natural curve.
"...why do you always look so smug for," she comments sarcastically, but her words lack bite and it just makes his smirk deepen.
finals week came and went with surprising ease - but that didnât mean it left yn with a comfortable sense of accomplishment just yet.
martin swiftly took the role of her therapist ⌠unbeknownst to him. she spent every afternoon talking his ear off. sheâd start off with her worries of getting a low score (even though itâs been well established that she would not), which would turn into old friendship drama, then -where it always ended- how she'd spend every second with juhoon. as much as it wouldâve rattled someone else, martin never judged her. only, he'd silently file away all the information to compare himself to it later. because there was an unshakeable feeling, that he could never live up to juhoon's legacy. the boy was just so naturally quiet and gentle, while martin saw himself as the complete opposite. still, he let her rant for hours on end, because it meant he could ramble in return. and that meant more to him than he was ready to recognise.
----
yn woke up in a cold sweat at the mere thought of the results being released later that morning.
before she could spiral completely, she rushed over to the schoolâs pinboard (after stalking the office lady who hung it up). her hand clasped over her mouth as soon as she saw her name a couple places from the top. in fact, she was just one spot above martin. she stared in disbelief until she heard excited shouting behind her. yn didnât even have to turn to know who it was. but as she did anyway, she saw martin barrelling towards her with his arms wide open and his grin wider. she huffs out a laugh before accepting her fate and meeting him halfway. martin practically pounced on her, almost knocking her over. âi'm seventh from the top,â she added as she stumbled back from impact. âiâm so proud. iâve never been so proud.â he announced, his voice coming out muffled in her hair. it was more than a rank. it was a testament to what she could achieve even after less-than-optimal situation. she had lost so much that year, but - as she was beginning to learn - what (or who) she gained would be far more substantial than she would ever realise. her hands hesitated at his back until she gave up and pulled him tighter. for some reason, one of his hands travelled to the back of her head, cradling it like she was a precious gem. he didnât even notice until he started subconsciously smoothing down her hair. it was a habit of his, she soon forced herself to be accustomed with.
he suddenly realised the hug was lasting a little too long to stay in platonic territory. he cleared his throat and slowly pulled back. but it was too late. she was already a flustered mess. the smell of his cologne single-handedly drove her mad. or maybe it was the way she could feel his chest shake with each laugh. she audibly cleared her throat and snapped herself back into the moment.
âsoâŚâ she began, âturns out you are a good teacher?â martin tsks and swats away her - albeit sarcastic - compliment. they both knew there was a lot of room for improvement as a teacher, but clearly they just enjoyed the excuse to spend time together (though theyâd never directly admit it). âmaybe i just had a perfect student..â he replied under his breath, with a hint of something unreadable sparkling in his eyes. the way his head tilted to the side as he studied her expression left her with a lingering feeling that there was something he wasnât telling her.
that night, sleep evaded her again. but this time, it wasnât because of a haunting entity. or maybe it was, because she kept replaying that moment in her head. it shouldâve been brushed off by now. instead it was left to marinate in the corners of her subconscious for her brain to dig up every few minutes.
from then, their increasingly complicated friendship blossomed.
martin rung her as soon as the clock hit twelve, signaling the new year. he cheered riotously, as she hummed in response - admittedly half-asleep, but attempting to reciprocate his boundless energy. he ended the call with an electronic smooch, not realising how it came off until he laid down later that morning.
still, he made it a point to call her every day, especially he was in the middle of shooting poorly-made music videos with his friends.
he'd force encourage her to play basketball with him and said friends after school. yn tried not to think about how juhoon would do the exact same, on this exact court, just a few years ago. oh, how much everything's changed since then. she kept playing, and it ended up being more enjoyable than she expected. maybe it was because - even with all that height, martin couldn't play for the life of him.
but neither could yn, and after the fourth missed shot, she just decided to just sit down and watch instead.
she wasn't left alone for long, though, because after he finally got a hoop, he ran up to her, smile as wide as ever and just voice as loud. her hands shot up for a double hi-five, but martin just held them in his own, as he shifted on both feet, rambling about his "very skillful" shot.
she couldn't remember laughing this hard before.
maybe, just maybe, she thought, i deserve to feel happy.
-----
their first weekend hangout landed a couple weeks into the new term of school. she wasn't in need of a tutor anymore, since she was technically caught-up now. but martin had a secret goal of wanting to see more of her come out of that shell. he didn't even know if she had hobbies or not. well, it would change that day.
they hung out in his room as per usual, but this time, she was really eyeing that gorgeous red and black guitar of his.
"what... wanna play it?" he questioned, unintentionally mimicking her scanning eyes. she nodded swiftly as a reply. martin got it set up for her, plugging it into the boxy amp that sat under his desk. she strummed a single string and her eyes automatically lit up. and - as if it was muscle memory - her fingers settled on the frets as her opposite thumb swept down the strings again, creating a simple melody. his eyes widened a little in surprise.
"when did you learn that?" he all but gushes. yn's shoulders shrugged, looking just as surprised as he did, "i was in band in like, 5th grade..."
the more you know, he thought. then, for the next hour or so, he taught her one of his favourite songs. one of the cords were difficult to get right; it made her fingers curl awkwardly in all the wrong spots. martin watched with a pained expression tugging on his face, but he waited patiently for her to get it by herself. but when she whined in frustration, he decided he had seen enough of her struggles. he leaned forward, close enough for her to notice the smell of his shampoo immediately. he carefully moved her fingers onto the correct frets, while yn tried not to focus on the way her skin burned where he brushed it. but focusing was impossible when she was holding his guitar⌠in his roomâŚwhile his eyes waited to catch her avoidant ones. her body physically stuttered, like it was trying to rewire itself to focus on anything but the fact that he was so close, she could count his eyelashes.
focus, dammit!
martin almost certainly noticed. he noticed the way her body finally relaxed, her shoulders slumped a little and for the first time, she seemed truly ⌠comfortable. infuriatingly so.
âhey,â he speaks after a brief pause. his voice was deeper all of a sudden. it grabbed her attention and made her head tick up. she watched how his pupils grew, almost instantly as he scanned her face. she could practically see the gears turning in his head, like he knew he was about to say something he couldnât take back. his fingers danced across the back of her hand that rested at the base of the strings, silently asking permission to hold it in his his own. the front of his eyebrows tugged upwards when she granted it. âi-umâŚâ he hesitates as his eyes flutter as if he was manually restarting his brain. so before he could make an excuse, he forced it out.
âi like you.â
a heavy beat passed before she even thought to reply. it was like the room was holding its breath, too.
he visibly gulped. his hands trembled a little. yet, he stayed completely still.
the words caught on her tongue, and before she could stop it- her head shook lightly, as if it would say her conflicting thoughts for her.
ââŚwhat?â he asked lightly, his voice barely making a sound, âwhat does that mean?â his head tilted, like he was trying to read the highly guarded expression on her face. âsay something,â his voice shook, ââŚanything.â but his pleas would remain unanswered. her hand escaped his, and her feet carried her out of the room without before either of them could say something they couldnât take back. martin assumed she just went to the bathroom to collect herself - rather, he hoped thatâs all it was. but when he heard the front door click, it knocked a sense of finality into his fragile brain.
ââ
yn didnât realise just how silent it was in the schoolâs library, until someone laughed loud enough to earn an unimpressed glare from the librarian. it subconsciously made her head snap up toward the sudden sound. thatâs when she saw the recently empty chair opposite of her. her brows clashed together as she blinked onceâŚ. twice. her head swivelled around the room. her eyes landed on every blonde-haired student, but she knew none of them were martin. her breath stalled in her lungs, as her face grew warmer with embarrassment as something she couldnât name made her heart twist.
why does he keep doing this? did i do something wrong? why did it mean that much to him?
as her swirling emotions warmed her face, she stared at the abandoned spot like it would give her all the answers.
he had been doing this the past few days - getting up and leaving, without so much as a âsee you later.â in her brain, she perfectly handled the confession the other day - she left before spewing her emotions everywhere like an uncontrollable fountain. but to him, it was plain rejection. and it hurt more than if she just said no.
she just seemed so painfully unaware of the way his heart cracked into more pieces than he could count. he wanted so desperately to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood the whirlwind of dizzying confusion he was caught in. she smiled like he was worth smiling at, looked at him like he was worth seeing - like nothing happened at all. because after she ran out on him, he stayed in his chair until his back began to ache from the awkward angle. but all he could do was simmer in his own embarrassment and heartbreak until he physically couldnât. so instead of really acknowledging that she could feel the same, heâd just run away. maybe deep down, he thought that if he copied what she did, sheâd feel what he did. martin was born petty, yes. and he was also born wanting love but not chasing it.
and now, they were in a cycle of awkward tension. the tension would especially make the air heavier whenever she tried to bring it up to him. she craned her head around his lockerâs door, a hopeful glint in her eyes as she asked him to explain his behaviour.
âtalk later.â he replied, feigning annoyance, when he was already regretting his harshness.
his regret wasnât stronger than his stubbornness, however. so when she followed up with him later that day he cut her off with a simple yet harsh, âlook - i was just in the moment. i thought i liked you, maybe i just liked your attention - what iâm trying to say is, i didnât mean it. sorry.â martin left her standing there with her feet glued to the floor as her breath stalled in her lungs. the world couldâve crumbled, and sheâd be the only thing left standing. ynâs heart twisted in a way she was well-accustomed to. martin expected her to figure it out herself, so he didnât have to explain the way his heart (and his ego) cracked when she ran out. he called it accountability, she called it immature and stubborn.
one night she scoffed to herself while recalling how sheâd embarrassed herself, yet again by practically begging martin to let her explain in the middle of class. her voice came out in uneven spouts and her hands clasped together as if the lord could somehow make martin snap out of whatever this uncooperative state was. but as expected, she was ignored. completely. he didn't even bother to glance in her direction. it was probably because he knew that if he did, he'd lose all the composure he had been strategically building. he just couldn't acknowledge that maybe he had a part in this, too.
after being continuously shoved away, she finally backed off. she had no idea that heâd switch up so easily. just half a year ago, he was crying by her side in a hospital, and begging the nurses to let him stay until she woke up. and now he was acting like this wasnât worth talking out - like he didnât still have a box of their childhood treasures under his bed.
just like that, a rift had forced its way through them.
with a blink, the first semester of senior year was over. martin had never been so distant. it was like he was so buried in his new life, there was no point in worrying about his old one. and why would he? he had his own band now, and an eye on the lead vocalist.
raya. her and her bright red locks flowed through life without a care, like she knew everyone would bend over backwards for her if she asked. everyone, including martin.
she must have been a comedian on the side - with the way martinâs head would fly back every time sheâd do something even remotely entertaining. yn watched them at lunch, suspecting that he was putting on a show, because he had never laughed this much with her. something uncomfortably out of character settled in the pit of her stomach. jealousy. even if she could see through the facade he was so clearly hiding behind.
raya sung so angelically, youâd think that flowers bloomed where she walked. yn didnât even seem like fair competition. so she didnât compete. she just sat by and watched as martin grew more and more attached to rayaâs hip, even if yn was beginning to resent him.
martin knew what he was doing. he knew he was hurting her. but he kept telling himself that sheâd get over it.
"i don't need her," he'd say to himself, out loud, when he'd catch himself reminiscing about the way she'd twirl her hair around his pen like it was her own. he thought those four words would magically erase all his feelings for her. but they didn't. and even while being glued to raya's hip, martin only wanted yn more. he thought he hid it well. but the side-ways glances in the hall, and 'accidentally' dropping a pen next to her desk made it that much more obvious that martin was just as infatuated as ever.
raya noticed. she'd notice before anyone else. she'd call it out every time, and every time, it would turn into a fight. the fight would last all but one day, until martin would remember why they were together in the first place. so, like the switch-up he was, he come crawling back with an, "i'm sorry, baby" and all would be good.
ââ
graduation was in approximately, two hours. she was surrounded by her peers. most of them probably had it all figured out. they were probably emotionally stable, with their entire futures planned out and clear minds.
but her mind was far from clear, (she was sure by now, that it had always been overworking) and her future was more than uncertain. she was so out of place, like she was a puzzle piece from a completely different box. she imagined that juhoon was there, with a small smile gracing his lips, just as it did a couple minutes before he left this world. in some, round-about way, it brought her a little much-needed comfort.
martinâs band began the ceremony. rayaâs voice drifted out of the multiple speakers scattered around the hall, accompanied by martinâs guitar, the same one he confessed to her over. yn focused her eyes on her shoes, so she wouldnât be forced to look at any of them. and as the song ended, the crowd erupted in to applause, some even whistled or threw their caps onto the stage - to which they were given stern warnings from the principal.
martin and his band gathered in a line and took their bows. while his hand rested on rayaâs lower back, martin scanned the crowd for yn. just to confirm that she was in attendance, of course. not at all to gauge her reaction on the song he wrote and composed ⌠about her. or maybe, deep down he knew it would be his last chance to see her again. his heart settled in itâs usual pit of disappointment when he was hastily ushered off the stage before he could finish scanning. oh, but she saw him. she saw the way his fingers curled around the fabric on rayaâs lower back with more fervour than heâd ever shown. her eye twitched, and she debated retreating to the bathrooms. but she was frozen in place, yet again. something fiery burned in her chest. it was unprotected, and it was angry.
as soon as her cap was tossed, she wondered if her life would just revert to its bland routine of simply existing. but more importantly, how she couldâve saved all this unnecessary conflict from happening.
ââ
what she couldnât say to him, she scribbled onto a piece of paperâŚ. and then stared at it for, god knows how long.
âwhere have you gone now, off with someone new already? as much as iâve tried, and trust me, i did, i donât wanna hate you. but martin, youâve made this so fucking complicated. all because you wouldnât let me speak. i wouldâve told you that i liked you back. i wouldâve -.â
her thumb furiously pressed gripped the eraser as shavings coated the paper, because she refused to admit that she missed him. because that would mean she really did fall for him. that she was moving on, further from juhoon. yn told herself that she wasnât ready for it, at least she tried. maybe, she was just as stubborn as he was.
it was a new year again, and yn was finally getting to where she wanted to be.
the creature's visits were less common, and she had gone a couple months without it returning.
technically, she was better.
she was, until her phone began buzzing on her bedside table.
yn let the call rang out purposefully, as she stared at the caller's id with an unsure expression twisting her face.
the call turned red in her inbox, as it pinged with one last notification.
"hey, itâs been a while. sorry, i know this is sudden.
iâve been seeing you around, yâknow, you seem better. i hope you are.
your eyes are drier than mine, for once. the tables turned, huh?
i think iâm suffocating? itâs like iâm stuck on the past. how pathetic am i? seriously...
i knew you didnât like me how i liked you, because youâre still grieving.
-and i thought i was holding onto you too tight so i just - pushed you away... i lashed out - which is so unlike me. i guess i was embarressed.
god, i regret that every, single day.
then raya was like a quick fix, she was addicting but then it became so obvious that she didnât even like me - i didnât really like her either, but i think i just liked pretending? and for a month or two, it was exhilarating.
then every time i looked at her i just ⌠saw you. and then it wasn't fun anymore. it was like i was stuck in a memory.
every time she smiled, i wished it was you -i wished the joke i made about our science teacher made you laugh, not her.
i texted her and broke it off yesterday. she didnât even pretend to care,
she just turned it on me -
she said i was just in love with you.
which came out of nowhere- is it that obvious? i think thatâs what scared me the most, falling for someone who couldn't have me.
it feels i was thrown into the deep end of a diving and held under.
...you know i canât swim.
iâm so terrified of losing you ⌠even though i probably already have.
and i'm so sorry that i let it happen
âŚ
i wish you were here. i wanna hear your voice. i want to put it in my songs so i can listen on repeat.
sorry, i sound creepy and im running out of time on this voicemail
i love you - bye"
martin's voice sounded so different, it was broken and unusually timid, but was unmistakably him. this had clearly been running on his mind until he couldn't handle it any longer.
the audio played out a couple time as yn stared at her phone until the screen was printed into her corneas - or at least, until her phone grew tired and fell asleep. the warmth in of her fingers created condensation across the back glass as her brain flashed (poorly timed) reminders of her first time in his house, and every extended glance she caught since then. unbeknownst to yn, a seed had planted itself in martin's heart from the very start; and with every, passing second he spent with her, it grew rapidly. until the branches took space in every part of his mind, until it manifested in his eyes and his toothy grin. his pupils would blow wide whenever heâd hear her voice, his eyebrows would clash together in adoration when sheâd nod along to his instrumentals. and how his bottom lip would catch under his teeth as he watched her play his guitar. something she had only caught in this moment. she saw all of it, but her brain refused to acknowledge it at the time. maybe it was trying to protect her. yn's heart clutched with the realisation.
how could he mess it up so horrendously? did he really deserve her forgiveness? because when promises are broken, more resentment settles is the cracks then eventually, it rots your trust from the inside, out.
but she hasn't gotten there, just yet. in fact, there was still a piece of her that longed for him. not in the way she longed for juhoon, no. it was more like that spark turned into a burning flame that would only grow impatient and more furious - one that made her want to write more often; one that made her heart speed up whenever she passed him in the halls. and if she didn't find a way to put that flame out, well, she was screwed.
ââŚdamnit, martin.â she cursed, rubbing circles on her temples like it would cure her martin-induced headache.
----------
âśď¸ â˘áá||á|á||||á|⢠about a year later
she woke up knowing today would be long. not only did she have martinâs music ringing in her head, but she was plagued with the reminder that it had been four years since juhoon took his last breath. thatâs: 1,461 days since his unfairly peaceful end... and two and a half years since she last spoke to martin.
of course, her built-up feelings urged her to write more letters to him. the pile beside her bed would double every week, and quickly, the harshly worded complaints turned into love-sick poems. obviously, martin still thought about her, and the voicemail he left a few months ago still kept them both awake.
as she stepped outside, the winter air crisply wrapped around her in a strangely comforting way. not the in the way wearing his old winter coat comforted her, but in the way that she could hide. sort of. everyone was just more focused on the first snowflakes blanketing every inch of the town - no one even questioned her increasingly reddening eyes (that had nothing to do with the weather). then just by her luck, the snowfall turned torrential, and attacked her face from every direction with little knife-like flakes - not caring for her emotional state in any regard. she wrapped her scarf tighter around her mouth like a mask and continued forward.
she was once again, left with her thoughts.
and as she walked she realised that this feeling wasnât grief anymore. it was the acceptance that juhoon lived in the edges of her mind now, and it was okay. fragile, yes, but less raw â less gut wrenching and more like a walking on a sprained ankle. it hurts for a while and never fully heals - but you learn how to manage.
juhoonâs favourite songs became her own, especially on days such as this. it seemed to lift her mood a little. it put a more pleasant filter over this chapter in her life. a small, unintentional smile settled on her lips. right now, she was only focused on her phoneâs screen and the music soothing her soul. a sigh swept out of her mouth and muffled into her scarf, as her shoulders finally lost their fight to gravity.
she was oblivious to the fact that the soles of her ragged winter boots were giving out. after realising a second too late, her eyes blew open and she ungracefully tried to stop the fall with a few (pitiful) wobbles her arms flailing helplessly. with a painful thud, she collided with the icy asphalt. she huffed as embarrassment heated up her face and sent her pulse racing. she contemplated lying back and letting the snow claim her so she wouldnât have to walk another step. before she could sacrifice herself, footsteps crunched towards her - and soon, a pale hand extended out to her. the arm was accompanied by a slightly raspy: âare you okay?â she timidly took the hand, before hastily brushing off the snow that clung to her jeans. she caught the familiar bling of the chain hanging from his belt loop, before the voice and the face caught up with her.
she had to be hallucinating. her mind totally just mistook this man for martin edwards. right?
âhello?â he waved his hand in front of her face, jokingly trying to regain her attention. but as always, there was a hint of concern woven into his teasing grin.
it took a while for the disbelieving shock to wear off her face, she almost had to manually scrub it off. but, then it settled into the creases bracketing her mouth and the fat under her eyes. as they tracked through the poorly-cleared footpaths, her lips were sealed shut. oddly enough, the tension fizzled away as soon as they crossed into the cemetery where her ex-lover laid. she settled on the wooden bench across from the headstone after clearing the snow with the end of her scarf. martin hesitated, carefully reading over the text that was engraved on the stone with something vulnerable tugging his eyebrows up and the corners of his lips down. her gaze stagnated there, too, even when she spoke. âsit,â she beckoned him, her voice coming out so softly that a gust of wind couldâve carried it away.
there were so many things that couldâve been said: explanations on why their treasured relationship was tarnished by their childish ways; the fact that - no matter how much time passes, they still hold each other in such high regards.
...but the gentle silence proved to be just enough for them to relax in. maybe the tearful apologies could wait (because they were inevitable). his eyes lingered on yn for a second before he finally let up, and joined her on the slightly frozen seat.
several minutes later, the snow ceased its icy parade and settled on the leaves above them like tiny crystalline gems. the wind came to a peaceful hush that lightly brushed martin's freshly-auburn strands onto his forehead, though most of it was held down by that beanie she bought him a couple birthdays ago. yn shifted closer to him, inadvertently seeking both his warmth and shelter. her head lowered onto his shoulder, like it belonged there. like those months of no-contact only existed in their dreams⌠like she was finally remembering what peace felt like. he didnât flinch. instead, he placed his head on top of hers. his eyes fluttered closed - and suddenly the frozen world around them blurred like it was made just for them. for the first time in a while, he let himself live in the moment for as long as he could; breathe air, knowing there was still oxygen left; and take her hand to warm it up in his jacketâs fur-lined pocket without letting his thoughts overpower this moment.
something unguarded bloomed in the serenity, as they let time warp and bend around them without a care for the outside world.
and after however long forever was,
a soothing sense of calm washed over her.
it filled the cracks in her heart, just for the moment, and it loosened her muscles.
