Hello, Hello! I go by the name MUTT. Other's may know me as CROW, but I am very embracing the silly Bwark Bwark mentality here folks. A lil cute, a lil silly, a lil goofy.
I'm your friendly Non-binary pal. I use the pronouns They/He.
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I have ADHD and Autism, thus auDHD hit my ass like a truck. I can slip up and forget stuff a lot. Get super hyper-focused on something and then lose all motivation for it in what feels like a single snap. I also have terrible Executive Dysfunction which often limits what I can do. Though I push on through!- Depression, Social Anxiety, Maladaptive Daydreaming start sliding in with Sliding_Concrete.mp3 playing. ( ;+_+)
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I'm putting this right here,
PROSHIPPERS/SUPPORTERS OF PROSHIPPERS ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!
Please don't interact with my stuff, I'm asking nicely. I don't wanna be around you and you probably don't wanna be around me.
All proshippers I run into/find will be blocked.
Besides all that, currently I've fallen down a good few rabbit holes. Specific ones would be:
- UNDERTALE (Multiverse specific)
- SANS AUS + PAPYRUS AUS
Other things have my interest but they're small. Little things that pop up every now and then and I go "Ooo, Cool!!" Focus on them for a bit, and then drop em. *Sadg (u_u )
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Some of yall may be from my big beginning days were I was posting little ask blog type stuff for my son, Rottenberry. I'll put a LINK to it here.
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Some of my OTHER socials! : : Art.Blog | Blusky | Twitch
ALSO! IMPORTANT THING HERE!!
I AM A MINOR!!
I don't mind if people older interact with my posts, can't really stop that, it's gonna happen. Oh well *Shrug (*-* )
All I ask is people above the age of 20 do not DM me in any attempts to become friends, or moots, I dunno the fuckin words the kids these days use- (back in my day *Old man noises*) At least, new people who are above that age. I do have some already made friends who are 20+ but I met them like... years before so- Eh.
THOUGH! The DMing thing is only for attempted friendships. If you're DMing me to tell me about a problem going on, a dangerous person I should avoid, or even pointing out mistakes I made that are like... not good. Then go ahead. I don't mind. As long as conversation doesn't spiral past the line of acquaintances.
I think that's all... uhhh- Ya, Silly introduction!!
This is old, I gotta re-do it.... SIGH!!! - Last edited 12/30/2024
Pre-OMORI (omori fanfiction) ( click here for the ao3 link :3 )
Summary: basically how headspace became headspace. OR a sunny character study. WARNING sad
words: 2535
For Sunny, it was natural to withdraw entirely from the outside world. It wasn’t something he willed himself to do. He was always content with his own company, busying himself in a way that didn’t interfere with others. He enjoyed the serenity of silence, the slowness of boredom. He swam in the everlasting present—never in the depths of the past or the heights of the future.
It began as genuine concern. His mother was nagging, yet gentle. There was no lock on the bedroom door, and more often than not his mother respected that. She was always good at those kinds of things, he remembered. He was silent, and she was patient. She gave him time, and then gave him some more. She gave so much that she began to forget who she was giving time to. How tall has he gotten since the last time she’s seen him?
Eventually, she began to crack. Desperation warped her voice as she talked at him. Her questions were met with silence. If she put her ear up to the door, she could hear her son gasp for air, knowing she caused his drowning. She knew he was hurting, but he was no outlier.
One time she approached his door. She garbled words about her rotting daughter and her invisible son and Sunny couldn’t breathe the thick emulsion around him and then she left. Silence returned once more.
This was the height of her short-lived habit of talking to his door. It was terrifying every time, each minute lasting an hour. She knocked. She said she was going to open the door repeatedly, even going so far as to turn the knob. She would always retreat, almost never fulfilling her threat. She only followed through once.
That one time, all he could do was stare at her and breathe. Stare when she stared. Stared until she closed the door. He trembled in place as his room was breached and raided by her eyes. The room isn’t the same anymore, he thought. Something escaped when his mother opened the door. He couldn’t get it back if he tried. That day became a little less okay than it was before. He stared at his mother and saw grief drip down her face.
This is what he hated about withdrawing from the outside world. The outside will ask for him. It will knock on his door and cry in his absence and ask when he’s coming back to school and tumble on forward when he wants it to stop. He didn’t want it to ask about him and tug him around by the hand. He wanted his hand severed so that the outside would never grab it again.
His mother would leave meals at the door. She used to knock, but the action felt too loud. The door would crumble under the tap of her knuckle, so she stopped. Sunny could hear her footsteps, anyways. He could feel her presence and her breath and her heavy thoughts as she left mac-n-cheese in front of the door of her son that she hasn’t seen in weeks.
She would get excited to see the dirty bowl that spawned in front of his door. She would relax when she heard Sunny’s footsteps above her. They were proof that her son was still there.
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Sunny spent his days and his nights in his room. His mornings, his evenings, his high ‘noons, and tea times. His room was average by all means, including Scholastic Book-Fair merchandise, a GameBoy, and a radio. They provided momentary relief, but Sunny’s mind wouldn’t be entertained for long. He could never fully remove himself. Books, which provided a pocket universe, didn’t give Sunny an escape. Sunny’s mind never felt fully understood by the authors taking up space on his shelves. He could see parts of himself, but never a whole. A few came close, yet Sunny always found a loose thread to unravel fantasy worlds and charming characters. Tetris on his GameBoy never hypnotized him, unlike Kel. His radio was too loud even with the volume knob just above mute. That bothered him.
He mainly stared at nothing. His room was silent, his eyes were empty. The ominous “future” made air emulsify, so his mind lazily wandered to mull over things he liked. He reminded himself of the past so he could feed from the second-hand, leftover joy that he forgot to consume the first time around. It wasn’t long before he began to think about his friends—before he started reminiscing.
Sunny loved his friends. He never stopped loving them. Not once. It's just that distance never hurt. They were outside and he was inside, and he didn’t mind it at all. He still thought of everyone as his friends. They never stopped hanging out with him, even though they haven’t visited Sunny and Sunny hasn’t left his room.
Whenever he tilted his head in a certain manner, or thought of some awful pun, he’d imagine his friends would comment on it. He’d spot an old book on his desk and Kel would complain about reading that book for school. He’d see a spider scurrying across his floor and he could feel Hero shaking in fear. He’d watch an airborne speck of dust fly about, and he’d see Aubrey waving her hand in front of his face, ready to ask what exactly he was looking at.
It was simple, normal interactions. It was the conversations for the sake of sharing each other’s company. Sunny only nodded or replied briefly, but his friends were still happy to talk to him. He kept his own silence, but he wanted his friends to be with him, too.
Sometimes he would silently ask a question to the wall, and Kel and Aubrey would respond with the same answer. They would shout “jinx” at each other, and then “jinx again.”
“You owe me a soda!” Aubrey yelled.
“Well YOU owe ME two sodas!” Kel countered.
“Hey! You can’t do that!”
“Yes I can! Plus you didn’t get me a soda last time I said jinx…”
“That doesn’t mean I gotta get two! And I’m the one who yelled jinx first.” Aubrey would cross her arms and pout.
“Well I don’t care.”
“You cared when I’d get a free soda for you—”
“That you STILL haven’t gotten me, by the way”
“Stop interrupting me!
“Well maybe say something I like for once!”
“HEY!”
Sunny thought to himself for a little bit. In this situation, he would leave them both in the treehouse and head into his kitchen. He would find a bottle of coke in the fridge, and fetch two cups from the cupboard. Clumsily holding glass and plastic close to his chest, he would return to the treehouse and pour his friends a drink. They would all drink soda in the treehouse. They would be happy. He wanted them to be happy.
They were often happy when they were hanging out in the treehouse. Trinkets were strewn about the place and the calendar watched them. Their voices would fill the space and Sunny would close his eyes and listen to the cadence of it. He loved everything about his friends, from their unique footsteps to humming and whistling and giggling. Sometimes all he could do was listen, since he’d be overwhelmed by the joy they shared with him. He’d have to close his eyes or look down, so he wouldn’t completely exhaust himself.
Sometimes, after sleepovers, Sunny’s face would be sore the next day. Or, Sunny’s voice would be a little raspy from use. His friends brought out everything in him. They made everything better and warmer. Even during those times at Basil’s house—Sunny’s mom would insist on picking up Sunny herself. Basil’s house is a two minute walk away, but Sunny’s mom showed up regardless. She was “picking up her son,” but she coincidentally got along with Basil’s mom very well. They’d talk and talk, each “goodbye” sparking another hour-long discussion. That regular period of waiting, normally seen as boring, was made valuable because Basil was there.
He’d throw a tired look at Basil, and Basil would look back knowingly, their moms oblivious to the setting sun. They’d sometimes talk, but mostly just sit in silence and wait. They’d lay on the floor with their heads next to each other, sitting up when they think their moms are finally done. When Sunny’s mom leans on the kitchen counter once more, Basil and Sunny share a sigh. Followed by a giggle or two. They didn’t need to speak to know that their play-date would be a little longer than planned.
Basil had a book all about botany. It was his pride and joy—he got it for his 11’th birthday. He brought it to the treehouse once. He and Sunny were hunched around the book face open on the floor. Basil grinned to himself as he pointed at a picture of a cactus.
“This one’s definitely Kel.”
Sunny liked that memory. He had pancakes for breakfast and wore his favorite socks that day.
Kel popped his head through the open door. He was still on the ladder, so it looked like he was just a talking head. “Did’ya call me?”
Basil’s head snapped to Sunny. Sunny stared back. Kel’s brow furrowed. Basil started giggling. Sunny smiled.
Kel looked confused. Or he would’ve. Yes, he would’ve looked confused if Kel was there. If Sunny and Basil and Kel all hung out that day. Basil always kept that book in his room, he remembered. He’d never take it anywhere because he didn’t want to scratch the shiny cover. Or mess up the gold pages. He told me that one day at his house. But, Sunny just made a memory better. He felt something close to okay. So, he formed a new habit. He would remember and recount events that never happened. Over and over and over again. He altered his interactions, switching out who was there like dolls in a dollhouse. He would change the setting. He’d make the treehouse his favorite color. He’d get an allowance every day instead of every week. It didn’t need to be real—it needed to make Sunny feel warm.
Feeling warm was good, and Sunny liked to feel good. His own false memories were intoxicating. It was addicting to replay happy days and feel something so familiar. His mind worked against sunrises and sunsets, against the waning moon and flipping calendar pages. Sunny could spend a week seeing the same day, if he wished. Time didn’t matter, and that was the most comforting thought he’s had in a while. Time didn’t need to matter when days passed at his will (at least when he closed his eyes). Sunny never kept up with his calendar, or even turned the page to the right month. Before, he hesitated, grieving over a time that passed. Now, he didn’t have to. There was nothing to fear. The calendar could even go backwards, if he wanted it to.
Now, with this colorful world and his friends one door away, he could almost say he felt good. But just one moment out of his head would sober him to reality. That didn’t feel good. Sunny didn’t like being reminded of why he’d never leave his room. The world was too scary, so he created one that welcomed him with open arms.
Even his own name would remind himself of what was real and what wasn’t. So, Sunny wasn’t Sunny anymore. He didn’t have to be. He didn’t have to be sixteen years old. At sixteen, he had lost so much. At twelve, he had everything he could’ve asked for.
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Sunny could always hear people knocking on the front door from his room. The walls of his house were thin and ready to relay information. This caused him to never knock on other’s doors—reaching for the doorbell instead. Knocking was a little too intimidating. No matter who knocked, it sounded a little scary. The doorbell on Sunny’s house always broke, and eventually no one bothered to fix it. Knocking became a must, to Sunny’s dismay.
After some time in his room and in his head, a loud and insistent knock made Sunny jump. He heard his mom’s footsteps, and he heard more excited knocking. Sunny was knocked out of his headspace, disrupted before he could see his friends. He was a little irritated, but he was way more scared. Instead of listening in, he hid in his bed. He pulled blankets over him and hugged a nearby pillow. He waited. Waited for it to pass.
He loved his friends. He loved seeing them. He knew that one of them was knocking and asking about him and waiting to see him. He knew that. But he was so scared. He wanted them to forget about him. He wanted no one to remember him, so that maybe he could peacefully fade away.
After a while, he felt the house shiver as his mom closed the front door. He emerged from his pillow fortress and blanket moat, careful not to make a sound. He had a bad feeling about this knocking. If anything, he knew his friends (Kel especially) were consistent.
When he woke up he felt dread. Dread that today someone else would ask for him. They’d ask for Sunny. Sometimes they’d even stay and chat. His mom never invited them inside, but they would pass around some small talk in the doorway. Sunny hated it. He hated it and he hated the updates that his mom would give him. Over time, his mom found success in leaving sticky notes everywhere. Underneath the door, on his door, by his food, and on the mirror. She would write small things to him. Things like “have a good day” or “Aubrey said hi today,” sometimes next to a small doodle. She cared so much. She tried so hard to make Sunny feel comfortable while still giving him her love.
Every reminder that his mother was his mom would crack Sunny. That tied him down again. The chain and ball cuffed to his ankle grew as he stumbled forward. It pulled him down from his vibrant dream. Seeing her pass along messages from his friends hurt. Seeing “Love, mom” hurt. Everything was painful. His makeshift solitary confinement gave him escape. Sunny hasn’t felt the sunlight hit his face in years, yet Sunny didn’t need the sun to see a world so bright. He has never experienced something so fantastical that caters to his every dream. So, dream he did. He’d close his eyes and relish the imaginary life that he pretended to have. He relished not being awake.
He wasn’t awake as his mother made a decision.
There were fingerprints on her reading glasses. She misplaced her eyeglass cloth yesterday, so she dealt with the inconvenience. It was probably in her purse. The tea in the microwave had gone cold again. She was almost alone in the house. She pulled out a phonebook, addressbook, and notepad—all while scanning a spread out map on the kitchen counter. Looking for a place outside of their zip code. Anything without stairs.
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thank you for reading!! if you feel inclined, feedback and criticism is appreciated :3 thank you for giving my work your time ♥
Well, I guess I can do this for you @thelockenessmonster
1. I come from the land down under (and totally have a pet Kangaroo 😝)
2. There is a giant Baby Groot sitting on my lounge with my Logan cosplay tie on his head because I’m lazy and it kinda makes me laugh when I look at it.
3. I started writing fanfiction to procrastinate from work - Then I started posting my writing, which resulted in me drawing to procrastinate writing, which led to me writing to procrastinate drawing and the cycle now continues until it’s 1am and I have to get a few hours sleep before going to work 😝
I won’t tag, but invite you to share something about yourself if you want to.
Hello all! I’m not sure how many of you are still here, but I wish you all well!
My absence has been long and quite unexpected. For that I apologize. As for an excuse, I fear there is not enough space in even this box to explain. Suffice to say it was a time of grief and depression which took quite some time to heal.
But heal it has! And I mean to breathe new life into this silent blog. So if you all are here - whomever was here - please stop by and say hello! If it has merely been too long though, I understand. I do hope to continue this blog, but perhaps will move to another screen name. In any case, I hope you all have a lovely evening!
Therapist sans! Sans is a therapist in this world. He is rather well known for what he does. He also suffers from depression and anxiety but is too prideful to admit it. His souls main traits are Perservance and patience. His suit is always a mess on one side, the other side is sort of tidy. He wears his slippers to work when he is having a bad day, unconsciously tho. He is prideful He is asexual He becomes the multiverses go to therapist. For who is better to confide in but yourself? Papyrus is in college to become a therapist himself. So he sees the signs of Sans having a mental illness. He tries to help, but sans refuses to acknowledge it. Toriel- secretary Asgore- owns the building Sans works at. Alphys- Sans student assistant Undyne: sheriff Frisk and Chara: Twin siblings that regularly go to sans as patients due to psychotic behavior at school. Burgerpants- sans regular patient. Sans cannot remember the resets, but his soul does. Which just deepens his depression without his knowledge. They are out on the surface, never trapped under ground. The war did happen, but ended peacefully.
Okay so my depression likes to be a swing set in a hurricane. I think I’m on an upswing and the gales push me back... But currently I’m on an upswing, so I’m thinking of putting together a box to help when the unexplained sadness hits or the meh washes over everything.
I have no idea if it’ll help during the next bout... but it’s something I can try.
Any suggestions on what kind of stuff to put in it?
Pairing: Reader/Minhyuk (monsta x), ft. friend Jooheon
Reader’s Gender: Neutral/Unspecified
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Friendship, Comfort, Angst
Universe: Soulmate AU (timer counting down to meeting)
Rating: PG
Length: Oneshot (1820 words)
Warnings: mentions of depression and the exhaustion that comes with it. (nothing reaches suicidal levels, don’t worry).
Notes: What should I be doing right now? Not this probably. That’s a lot of genre’s there, but what can I say? I’m a mess. reader is the one with depression.
Summary: It always feels like you should be happier. Minhyuk understands.
When the counter reaches 0, you’ll meet your soulmate. It’s a fairly simple concept, really. Of course, being simple in concept doesn’t mean it is in practice. There are loads of times where the timer just stops never to move again, or in which someone doesn’t like their soulmate.
It’s hard not to worry your soulmate might not like you, or that your timer will stop. Still, you take a glance down and your wrist, down to 20, and sigh. It counts the number of breaths you’ll take before you meet your soulmate. When it first appeared on your wrist, as soft blue, it had been at 33,638,400. That was four years ago, when you turned 18.
It’s hard not to feel anxious. Large parties, filled with people you don’t know, aren’t really your style. Especially with the low number on your wrist- now 14- and Jooheon having left you on your own. He had been the one who encouraged you to come- a party of one of his friends, he said- because your timer was so low. You likely would have argued by he promised you free food- you were taking advantage of that- so you reluctantly agreed. When the timer reaches 4, you start taking deeper, slower breaths.
The kitchen is empty, aside from you, and you can’t picture someone walking in here not knowing their timer was about to run out. Someone, in the other room, is shouting. You hear Jooheon’s name- along side a “i’m dying”- and then Jooheon’s voice. “Go get some water, you nerd.”
Then there’s someone stumbling into the kitchen. He doesn’t meet your eyes, finding his way directly to the fridge, and you stare, holding your breath. 1.
1.
1.
You have to breath, gasp for the air you’re depriving yourself, and he spins around realizing you’re there. He’s pretty, handsome, beautiful. Any word you can come up with, he is. He smiles, probably not realizing the situation, and waves. You lift your arm, timer at 0 clearly displayed, and wave back. He frowns, as if disappointed, and you point to his wrist.
“Oh.” Shock fills hihs face, then realization. “It’s you!”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” At your statement he grins, moves forward and stops a step away from you.
“Uh, can I hug you?”
“Oh, sure.” You nod. This is your soulmate, after all, you can give up one hug.
He hugs you and it’s warm, comforting. You think you should be happy. You are happy. You really are but you feel like you should be happier. Like this event should make you happier, especially since he seems so excited, but you feel the worries you’ve always had about soulmates creeping in.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” You nod, offering a smile. “Just overwhelmed.”
“Well overwhelmed, I’m Minhyuk.”
“I hate you already.” You laugh despite your words- how dare he make a dad joke on day one- and he laughs in turn.
“You have a pretty smile.”
Minhyuk is a very sunshine-like person. You realize this very quickly. He’s full of energy and life, always trying to smile and make others smile. While that can be a little exhausting, at time, for the most part you appreciative this in him. He’s very sweet. Which is why you’re happy to spend time with him. Which is why you’re happy he’s your soulmate. Which is why you feel guilty when all his smiles and jokes can’t make you happy.
It’s not as if you’re unused to the feeling. That feeling like your emotions are just slightly muted, not quite enough. You’re not quite upset enough, not quite happy enough, not enough. You don’t know how to explain this to Minhyuk, are scared he’ll leave if you do- despite evidence otherwise- so you don’t.
It’s when you’re sitting across from each other, on the ground in a park. A pretty cliche image, picnic blanket under you, picnic food between you. Yet it’s nice, and Minhyuk is really excited about it. So you smile. When Minhyuk frowns at you, you aren’t sure what you’ve done or why he looks upset. All you know is that you’re scared you’ve somehow messed up.
“Are you okay?” He asks, softly.
“Yeah, of course.” You force another smile, hoping to assure him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re always- your smiles never reach your eyes, you know? You can tell me, if I bother you.”
“You don’t bother me!” You’re quick to retort. Minhyuk thinking he was the problem was never what you wanted.
“Then what is it?”
“I’m just...” You sigh. “Minhyuk, I don’t think I’ll ever be happy enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s never going to reach my eyes. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t... understand.”
You leave. Minhyuk can’t seem to form words to stop you, so you go home.
Jooheon isn’t happy with you. You’re fairly sure of that when he visits you, even though he brings ice cream. Minhyuk is his friend, too, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew what happened. It’s a little hard to look him in the eyes. He knows, of course, he’s you’re best friend so he knows you’re depressed. However, he always seems disappointed when you avoid people.
“Jooheon, if you’re mad at me say it.”
“I’m not.” He holds up his hands, a defense of his words. “I’m worried about you. I know Minhyuk wont fix anything, but you seemed a little happier. A little is a big deal, even if you don’t feel lie it is.”
“I’m... scared.”
“I know.”
“Help me?’
“Depends on how.”
“Come with me. When I work up the courage to face and explain it to him.”
“Sure.”
“And hand over the ice cream now?”
“Yeah, okay, brat.”
Minhyuk stares. Minhyuk stares, silent, then sighs. “I should have realized.”
“Most people don’t.” You say, letting out the breath you’d started holding once you’d gotten the word depression out.
“Yeah, but-” Minhyuk huffs- “I’m your soulmate. I thought I’d be- like- super in tune with your emotions. Or something.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” You can’t help but laugh at the pout he gives. “But you realized something was wrong quicker than anyone else did.”
“I guess.” Minhyuk pauses, then smiles. “Thank you for explaining it to me, and trusting me.”
You probably shouldn’t have, but you sort of expected something more to change. Like the revelation would change you’re entire world. It wasn’t even like you’d had evidence that would happen- nothing changed when Jooheon learned, except that you had someone to go to if it got too bad- yet you still expected more the change when Minhyuk found out.
It’s not as if nothing changed. Minhyuk isn’t trying too hard to get smiles out of you anymore. It’s not as if he’s given up trying to make you happy, or smile, at all. Just that he’s become more aware of when he’s doing good, and when he’s just overwhelming you. There are more comfortable silences. You enjoy those a lot.
It’s nice. You’re genuinely happy. At least, for short moments at a time. There’s always this creeping ‘when will I feel sad again’ thought whenever you’re happy, but you expect that. You’re used to that. Sure, you wish you didn’t have it, but you try to push it as far back as you can and just enjoy Minhyuk’s presence.
If you’re honest, it sort of feels uneven. Like Minhyuk is trying way harder than you are. You’re trying, sure, but because of how hard it is to do anything the results of your efforts fall short of the results his get. You don’t exactly feel like it’s an evenly split relationship and that scares you. That he might realize that scares you.
You sigh, realizing you’ve found yet another thing to make it hard to be fully happy. Thanks brain.
Minhyuk realizes something is wrong quicker than you expect. Maybe he was right, maybe the soulmate thing did give him super awareness. That or he was just paying really close attention to you. Whichever it is, Minhyuk asks what’s wrong gently.
“Nothing.”
“___, please. You don’t have to lie. If you don’t want to say what it is, you don’t have to, but please don’t just tell me it’s nothing.”
“You’re- you do- you’ve done so much for me, you know?”
“I don’t know if i’ve done that much.” Minhyuk shrugs, dismissing the idea.
“I feel like you have. And feel like I haven’t done anything for you.’
“You don’t have to do anything for me? Your presence is enough.”
“That’s cheesy.”
“It’s true!” Minhyuk laughs. “I love you why wouldn’t I be cheesy about it?’
“You what?’ You look up, surprised.
“Oh.”
“Minhyuk.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you that yet.”
“Minhyuk!”
“You’re my soulmate. Is it that surprising?”
“A little!” You huff, crossing your arms. “I didn’t know that. I-”
“Don’t yet? That’s okay.”
“It is?”
“Well duh.”
You feel like you should be happier. You met Minhyuk exactly 1 year ago. Admittedly, you didn’t realize this when Minhyuk showed up at your house all dressed up. When he says as much, you panic. Partially because you forgot, partially because he’s clearly planed something. Then Minhyuk grins, whispers a reassuring “it’s okay” and pulls bags of takeout from behind his back.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to go anywhere.”
“Yet you dressed up?’
“Listen. I wanted to look good for you, okay. When we first met I was drink and didn’t notice you for a good minute.”
“Twenty seconds, but sure.” You laugh, stepping aside to let him into your home. “Then what, takeout and movies?”
“Duh.”
You shold be happier, you think. Because this is really nice and you are happy. Just not as happy as you want to be, given the situation. Minhyuk smiles at you, anyway.
“Minhyuk-”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to bee the brightest shining star of happiness or anything. You just be as happy as you are, I’ve got enough for the both of us.”
“God, you are cheesy.”
“You love it.”
“That doesn’t make it less cringe-worthy.” You laugh. Minhyuk smiles, seemingly pleased with having made you laugh.
“I’m okay with that.”
“Minhyuk?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” Minhyuk grins.
“We’re soulmates after all? That’s what you usually say.”
“I guess.” Minhyuk shrugs, you tilt your head. “But I’d rather say ‘i love you, after all’. It sounds less like I’m obligated and more like I want to. Which I do.”
“Oh,” You avoid his gaze, yet can’t help but smile a bit at that. “I guess so.”
You feel like you should be happier, but this is what you can manage, for now. Minhyuk seems okay with that, and somehow that makes a little easier. Not much, but you take everything you can get, when it comes to being happier.
