dylan wasn’t so much nervous as her girlfriend was, she could tell the girl was crazy nervous since she had slept over the night before. the 19 year old just sat there looking at her girl who was doing her first show with her band tonight. “babe...come on calm down, you’re going to put a hole in the floor and you gotta get ready, we laid in bed late enough..” dylan said as her eyes watched the girl as she then pulled Felicity to her. “you’re going to do amazing tonight, i believe in you..i have since we met, you’ve got a voice everyone wants and this is big! you’ve wanted this forever..” she smiled up at her girl. Standing up she kissed the girls lips with her hands on the blonde’s cheeks. “the guys are waiting..get ready and meet me downstairs..”
the thought had vaguely occurred to jinyoung that these songwriting classes reminded him an awful lot of high school. he's always been happier with a more physical approach to learning, hands-on and exploring kinesthetically a much more enriching experience for him. sitting at a desk and penning down notes about stanzas and phrasing is not his cup of tea, honestly. but jinyoung doesn't complain; he can't now that he's in the company known for their creativity. he just ignores the way his skin prickles and how similarly the sun passes by the classroom window, the shadows shifting in the room the same way they used to in school.
jinyoung does his best to focus. maybe he even succeeds a bit, engrossed in his work as he tries his hand at lyric writing, whispering the words on the paper back at himself under his breath and trying to imagine them in rhythm, his fingers flexing and tapping against the pen as he tries to remember every word he can think of that rhymes with sway. he shifts in his seat, as if reshuffling his body will make his brain work any better, and scribbles down options in the margins of his paper: lay, may, bay, day, hay...
content/trigger warning: grooming, implied csa
her nails brush against his shoulder unintentionally, just the idle movement of an instructor who's trying to get a look and see if she needs to help a pupil out. and really, jinyoung should know that it means absolutely nothing; he's never seen this coach before, he hardly even remembers her name, and yet it's not her nails that he feels on his back even after she's withdrawn and moved onto another trainee. there was another woman, another teacher, not so many years ago that jinyoung can simply forget it now. her touches had been soft but laced with meaning, metaphorical poison under her fingertips each time she reached out to her favorite student. he hated it, he was addicted to it. no one else told him they loved him like she did and he believed it was real back then, not just some fantasy played out by a grown adult who surely knew better than to do what she was doing.
in a moment, jinyoung's stomach turns. he's frozen in place, hardly able to breathe as his vision goes blurry around the edges. his hand clasps the pen so tightly that his fingers turn white from the effort. it takes everything he has in him not to immediately run out of the room, to get as far away from her as possible. no, he doesn't want to cause a scene. he'll be good, just enough so he doesn't stand out from the rest of the class. he takes one deep, shuddery breath in and tries to keep from screaming.
he can't tell how long it is, but he's the first one out the door when the class is finally dismissed. it's as if he's in a daze, a panic so deep-set that he hardly even sees the people around him as he pushes against the crowd, desperate to find somewhere quiet and secluded to let this intense wave of emotion run its course. it would never be so simple, why would it be? when has moon jinyoung's life ever given him what he wants from it? he all but bowls over another trainee, eyes unfocused and still not quite seeing the young man in front of him even as he reaches out to steady the both of them, sorry, sorry, on his lips as he apologizes for nearly knocking them both over. he only realizes it's ren when he's trying to skirt around him again, only to stop short when he realizes this is exactly where he was trying to go all along; perhaps one of the least utilized practice rooms and an escape that jinyoung had found quite by mistake in his earliest days as a trainee. he doesn't have room to wonder what ren is doing here. he's at the end of his rope as it is, dangling over the edge before the final string snaps and he's falling into the icy deep end.
with nowhere left to run, despite the audience he now has, jinyoung collapses in on himself. he doesn't cry, he hardly makes a sound at all save for shallow gasps for air, choking on his own breaths as he tries and fails to fight down the ringing in his ears, his own heartbeat pounding wildly out of control, the terror and panic as he recalls what it felt like to be sixteen again. i'm the only one who could love you. did she ever actually say that? jinyoung can't remember; he just hears an all too familiar voice echoing in his skull.
"stop!" he cries out, followed by another fit of struggled sips of air. he wraps his arms around himself, shielding his body from a monster unseen yet very much felt. how embarrassing, another voice, not quite his own, whispers from inside his head. you should have been happy she did that with you; you're a man after all. no, not then; back then, jinyoung was still very much a lost child.
It was sunny out today, but that only masked the fact that it was a bit chilly out in the open arena. The sounds of men chattering with one another and balls being kicked around filled the air. Maia sat in the first row of seats before the barrier to the grass on the other side. Curled up in her seat, she watched as the team kicked around the dozen’s of balls on the field. Her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight above her so she could see her best friend training. She always enjoyed watching him practice or attend one of his games for moral support. James and Salomé were basically her second family. Anytime Maia could, she would fly out to them for a visit or to celebrate a special occasion like a birthday. It was always a joy to be around them. She loved them.
Sitting crossed-legged in her chair, her water bottle settled in her lap, she pulled her sweater sleeves over her hands. Finding just sitting here made her body get cold. She could feel the chill crawling up her back, and the chattering of her teeth but she wasn’t willing to go inside just yet. @jamesrodriqez
With a pounding headache and exhaustion leaking from his pores, Silas couldn’t help but fall into a deep sleep the second Juliet was okay. Evidently... she could be better, with being in the hospital and all, but at least she was better than before. Seeing her hooked up to machine’s and in one of those gowns, laying helpelessly made him terrfied beyond compare. It was his fault, after all. Coming out of his REM, Silas awakens to a cold hand against his cheek, pulling his head up from the side of her bed. “Hey...” he greets back, voice groggy and tired. Rubbing his eyes, Silas clears his throat in attempt to sound more awake, leaning his head against the visitor’s chair he sat in. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her words, shaking his head. “It was my fault. Besides, even if Adeline didn’t force me to tag along--- I wanted to, I had to.” He rests the side of his head to look over her longingly, worried, but assured Juliet was in good hands. “You okay? Feeling better?”
Someday in the beginning of the semester @ Art Gallery
With: @lua-florence
E, como sempre, a agenda do BLESS estava cheia naquela semana. Howoon, como líder que sempre zela pela reputação do grupo, não podia deixar que faltassem nenhum evento, não importando o quão cansados estivessem. A vida era feita de sacrifícios e aquele momento era um deles. Daria seu jeito para recompensar os meninos mais tarde, talvez com uma sessão de compras no mercado comprando as comidas favoritas de todos.
Dessa vez, tinham que ir para uma exposição de artes. Não teriam que cantar ou dançar; na verdade, cada um do grupo tinha pintado um quadro como divulgação e eles iriam a leilão para que o dinheiro fosse doado para uma instituição de caridade. Era uma área totalmente nova na vida do cantor e ele não era o melhor dos pintores, muito pelo contrário, mas foi divertido correr o pincel pela tela como quem não se importava com nada. E, de brinde, os quadros ainda iam com uma assinatura de cada integrante. Seria bom para os fãs e para a galeria, que definitivamente receberia uma atenção extra por isso.
Enquanto esperava a hora do tal leilão, resolveu passear um pouco pelas sessões, esperando que a arte fosse o suficiente para o distrair e esquecer o cansaço por alguns minutos que fossem, afinal teria que parecer bem o suficiente diante das câmeras. A preferência era pela sessão com o menor número de pessoas possível, rondando um pouco até achar uma que só tinha uma menina olhando um dos quadros. Ela era jovem e bonita, diferentemente do que Yang esperava encontrar em uma exposição. Talvez fosse uma das fãs de seu grupo, mas era estranho que ela estivesse tão isolada e longe das outras. De qualquer forma, a curiosidade do maior estava atiçada e ele iria atrás de respostas.
Ao chegar perto da moça, limpou a garganta para chamar atenção. — O que a senhorita faz aqui longe de todo mundo?
Quando Byunghun entrou na univerisdade teve um pouco de dificuldade de se entrosar com os outros professores. Seus problemas do passado e a forma como virou professor dali afastou os outros professores de Byunghun. Ele nunca se incomodou tanto com isso, já que sabia que a culpa era sua. Ele até pensou que não ficaria próximo de nenhum professor. Foi isso até a entrada da professora chinesa. Depois de ajuda-la a se estabelecer no departamento e se acostumar com as coisas os dois acabaram ficando amigos. Como era a primeira amizade que fazia com alguém do trabalho eles acabaram ficando muito próximos. A amizade foi aumentando com o passar do tempo e em poucos meses Byunghun já estava levando Meifei para jantar em casa com a esposa.
Combinou o horário e mostrou como ela poderia chegar na casa dos dois. Avisou para a esposa que receberiam alguém e pediu para que ela fizesse o jantar. Então Byunghun apenas esperou que a outra mulher chegasse. Estava na sala e pode abrir a porta para ela assim que ela chegou.
A cumprimentou com um beijo no rosto e abriu um leve sorriso. - Oi, Meifei. - Disse dando espaço para ela passar e apontando para o sofá. - Fica a vontade. A Nari está terminando o jantar. - Ele esperou que ela escolhesse onde sentar e então voltou para onde estava antes. - Já apresentei vocês duas?
Além de fazer pouco tempo que ele tinha entrado na universidade fazia muito tempo que não saía para almoçar com a esposa. Entendia até certo ponto as necessidades de casal que os dois precisavam suprir, nem sempre a convivência era agradável e mesmo que ele amasse muito a mulher não queria ficar sempre com ela. Só que naquele dia acabou aceitando ir almoçar com a mulher, era melhor para aprender como funcionava a universidade e onde era bom para comer. Tinha pedido comida por telefone a semana inteira e isso já estava se tornando um hábito ruim.
Como combinaram ele ficou esperando que ela aparecesse no departamento de matemática para irem juntos almoçar. Byunghun observou os professores irem e virem pelo departamento e mesmo que não conhecesse os professores tão bem foi cumprimentando todo mundo. Só parou de cumprimentar os colegas quando Nari chegou. - Onde você es... - Ele parou a frase no meio quando uma professora nova passou, era quase que uma raridade encontrar mulheres no departamento de matemática, ainda uma mulher bonita. Byunghun cutucou a esposa e então moveu a cabeça na direção da professora. - Olha... - Se tinha uma coisa que os dois combinavam era no gosto por mulheres.
“In chess, pawns are the most numerous pieces. Symbolically they represent soldiers in war, armed peasants who marched into battle by the thousands. They are also the weakest. Many times, you will sacrifice your pawns early for movement across the board.”
-One of Nina’s schoolteachers, teaching her how to play.
I must be in the hospital.
That was Nina’s first thought, because when she opened her eyes the white lights were blinding. And in her experience white lights meant hospitals. They could also mean death, she reasoned, but that was something she wasn’t sure about.
Because she was Nina, and her mind was always sure to fire away no matter what was going on, her next thoughts all came in a steady jumble: Must have been an asthma attack; My lungs feel fine now. That’s good; My hip then? No, in fact my body doesn’t even feel bad. It’s my head, it’s all my head-
She sat up, blinking, rubbing the back of her neck. It didn’t take long for her to realize that this wasn’t any sort of hospital, it was nothing she’d ever seen before. Her throat tightened and she clenched her fists. She was terrified.
“Well, this is fucking dramatic.”
She was all alone in a white room, set up to appear as unsettling as possible. Her heart beat a little faster as she let it all settle over her: just a moment ago she’d lay down to sleep in her prison cell in Moscow, her cellmate Elina snoring noisily above her. And now she was here. Logically she was still in the prison somewhere, in another lesser known wing. She stayed still on the bed (didn’t want to appear to be making any sudden movements. She was sure she was being monitored), and her eyes searched for cameras, cracks in the walls, a way out.
“If you wanted me to join the nuclear program, you could have just asked,” she said cooly. “Or maybe this is your way of telling me I’m a spy now?” she snorted. Of all the Soviet cliches. “Can you imagine? I can barely run two laps with this bum hip of mine, and I’m being treated like a KGB stereotype in an American film,” she craned her neck to get a better look at the ceiling. There was nothing she could make out but sickeningly bright lights, and she closed her eyes tightly, massaged her temples.
“Or,” she swung her legs over the side of the bed slowly, telegraphing her movements. She was proud of how calm she sounded. “This is the beginning of some kind of experimentation. I’ll just say this: if you’re planning on chopping my head off and sewing it to my ass just to see what happens, please sedate me again first. I’m––”
The door swung open and she was quickly ushered out of the room. She walked along as straight as she could, but her hip was bothering her and stress from the fear was making her limp more pronounced. But she kept her head high, and resisted the urge to ask her new handlers to slow down.
For all she knew, she would be taking her last steps. She let her mind wander to her mother for a bit. Not her present day mother, who was devastated that her daughter had been arrested in Moscow in the first place, but maybe her mother circa her childhood, who always managed to feed her and buy her sweets every now and then, no matter how broke she was. That was comforting, and Nina felt her mind go someplace far away, to a nice park with pretty flowers and her mother tall and beautiful and smiling above her.
Another door. Now she was in an auditorium and people were being herded in like cattle, ordered to fill in the rows. Some of them whispered amongst themselves, some cried hysterically, others walked around as though they were asleep, and hadn’t awakened to this new world yet. Nina silently watched it all, taking in the foreign languages she heard (English, German, Spanish, Japanese), guessing the ages of all the people in the auditorium (late teens, early twenties. Just like her). She couldn’t hear another Russian speaker. So perhaps they weren’t in Moscow after all.
That thought scared her even worse, and she felt her arms trembling as she took a seat in between a boy with blonde hair who was crying and a girl who whispered “No. No no no. No nononononono,” over and over. And then the lights all went out and the movie came on.
Nina listened closely so that even now, years after the fact, she could recite the orientation by heart.
Once you’ve entered Elswood, there is no way out of Elswood for there is no need to leave.
She listened to the rules of the school and watched her new peers. They all looked terribly pathetic together, scared and cold and so disoriented. Nina herself was still trembling. She slid down in her seat some, willed the orientation message to ingrain itself inside her head. The boy with blonde hair began to cry louder and louder, and she carefully placed one hand over his on the armrest. He looked at her, startled, and she held a finger to her lips, letting her eyes flicker over to some of the people who had brought them in.
That sign was universal. Shhh. Quiet. Don’t let them hear you. He nodded and after a few more sniffles he calmed down.
After orientation Nina found herself limping towards another line, where she received a number, a room assignment, a handbook. She chewed on the inside of her cheek while she waited. Overnight she had traded one prison for another, and this one seemed to be even dangerous than what she’d been up to in Moscow. She would have to be careful.
It was her turn. A stone faced woman held out a heavy book to her with HANDBOOK boldly written on the front.
Nina grabbed it with both hands and nodded, looking the woman straight in her eyes.
