Forbidden Love - Tumblr Posts

White Walls and Dead Air

They were dying. They were dying and there was nothing Aziraphale could do to stop it. He had his orders, and he couldn’t interfere. He was the protector of humanity, the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and all he could do was watch as they dropped like flies. He was touching them, mostly. No one else would. No one else could. He was smoothing his bare hands over their fevered and blackened skin. They would wheeze and cough and stretch out for him as he walked away to the next body, pride crushed long ago by hours of agony, but it was somehow even harder to leave the thousands of people he had yet to reach than it was to walk away.

He thinks this must be what starving feels like. To call out for something so desperately with every fiber of your being, something to end the pain. He hasn’t stopped praying in days. Begging. He thinks he’s dying with them--he feels it in his chest, seeping into his lungs with every breath of the rancid air. Flies buzz over the bodies, like vultures, and rats hold back in the corners of rooms and alleys, and Aziraphale can’t interfere. He can’t.

He doesn’t understand. No one told him why and he doesn’t understand.

It’s after the fourth day that he decides he hates God. He’s too tired to hold it back. Too miserable. Too busy dying. He knows he’ll go back on it later. He knows that he’ll repent later, and he’ll mean it, he thinks, once he gains some perspective, but there is nothing that could stop this bone-deep agony from churning and rising into something ugly. He’s not supposed to feel this way. He’s an angel, he really shouldn’t be thinking these things. Blind obedience is what they were created for. It’s in this moment that he can admit to a flaw in the Almighty’s design. If she wanted soldiers, she shouldn’t have given them the capacity to love.

It’s on the seventh day, and isn’t that ironic, that his saving grace appears. Crowley. Through the haze of sick and death and flies, Crowley emerges--Aziraphale can do nothing but watch after his eyes catch on Crowley’s form, purposeful and sure--walks to him through the maze of bodies, takes his arm and tugs him away. “Crowley, stop, please, let me go,” he’s protesting, but it’s weak. He’s not even trying, just letting himself go. He’s the protector of humanity. The Guardian of the Eastern Gate. He could destroy Crowley if he wanted. As much as they bicker about who will win in the end they both know hell will lose. God doesn’t say much, not anymore, but She did say this. Hell will lose. Aziraphale was built for that inevitable battle. He could tear Crowley apart. He doesn’t. He doesn’t do anything. In the end, even his protests die out in favor of silence and he just lets himself be pulled.

A part of him, a part of him that he hates, is glad to leave. He wishes he continued to argue. Wishes he didn’t want to leave with Crowley. Wishes he was a better angel, or maybe a worse one, depending on your perspective. He’s never thought in terms of perspective before. He doesn’t think he likes it.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been walking. It feels endless. Crowley is walking quickly, or he wants to, but every once in a while he’ll glance at Aziraphale and adjust his pace to the dragging of his feet. Aziraphale is so tired, and so, so full of hate. He’s starting to understand why Crowley sleeps so much. Is this what it’s like to be a demon? To be so full of bitterness?

It’s slow going. The streets are cramped and filthy, and weaving in and out takes time, despite the lack of people. They’re all inside. Hiding. Every once in a while they pass a cart stacked with bodies and Aziraphale doesn’t even have it in him to be horrified, doesn’t feel anything at all anymore. The sky is a beautiful blue, and there’s crying coming from an alley to their left, a woman, and Aziraphale isn’t going to check on her. He doesn’t even think he’s dying anymore. He thinks that maybe he’s finished, a wandering wraith, and Crowley has come to take him to hell for his sins. Except that heaven and hell are only for humans, and nothing is supposed to happen to angels and demons when they die. Maybe this is all he gets. This nothing. He wouldn’t be surprised if God didn’t want him anymore after this; if she just let him go, let him slip between the cracks.

It’s only after the streets have started to open up, only after the dirt turns to grass and things have stopped dying that Crowley lets them slow. He pulls Aziraphale up a grassy hill and sits him down under an apple tree. Aziraphale can’t help but laugh when he sees the apples. The laughter is rattling around his insides, bouncing off of his walls and coming out hollow, the way a voice sounds when it has nothing to echo off of. He’s changed his mind. This must be what a proper angel is supposed to feel like. He’s always hated the emptiness of heaven--the pristine white walls and the dead air--and he knows he’s never been quite right to think so, but now. Now look at him.

He’s still laughing the nothing laugh of an empty chapel and Crowley is looking at him like he’s the most terrifying thing he could have imagined, but the horrible irony of the Original Tempter taking him to an apple tree in this moment is cracking him open to reveal all of his cobwebs and there’s no stopping it. His wings burst out of the aether without his permission, powerful white sails that envelop his quaking corporation. His feathers are messy and dry, he didn’t think to groom them until it didn’t seem to matter anymore, and are so unkept that some feathers are starting to come loose in protest.

It’s like this, hunched over in sprawling laughter, that he feels the first touch. It’s tentative, shy, but undeniable. A hand on one of his primaries, straightening and smoothing it. His laughter dies at the touch, slowly sliding away to remind him of the exhaustion that’s been hounding him for days. His wings droop and open to reveal Crowley sitting parallel to Aziraphale, kneeling on the ground in front of him as if he would have waited patiently for Aziraphale to pull back the protective cover of his white feathers for centuries. His crimson hair is long, cascading down his back and over his shoulders in gentle waves, and his sharp features are softened by something flickering in his eyes, lending him a tenderness that Aziraphale hasn’t seen since Mesopotamia.

Crowley gets like this, sometimes. Lets his sharp edges fall away. Lets his defenses down for Aziraphale. He’s usually drunk. If he’s not drunk, he’s hurt. Or Aziraphale is. He’s… sweet like this. Peaceful. Aziraphale has caught him with children before, playing. The mothers would let him, smile at him, and slip children into his arms with ease and trust. It would make a throbbing pain go off in Aziraphale’s chest to see him like that and he’d have to look away. He’d then spend however long he could spare pretending he wasn’t stealing glances.

Crowley reaches forward, slowly, like Aziraphale is something wild that might run at the snap of a twig underfoot. His fingers are soft as he cards his them gently through Aziraphale’s hair, and his hands are warm, and there is something so knowing in this action that Aziraphale feels like he might shed his skin and slip into Crowley’s to get closer to it. He leans into the touch, a cat in the sun, and his eyes fall closed for a long moment before blinking open heavily. He doesn’t look up again--doesn’t need to when he has the touch to ground him in whatever this warmth is--instead his tired gaze stays on the grass and he lets himself feel: the rough texture of the thick blades beneath his fingers, the cool night air, so sweet after the miasmic haze of rot, Crowley’s hand on his cheek. Aziraphale lets his wings spread out around him, open and vulnerable and impossible to lift, he wonders how he ever managed to lift them at all, and he’s slumping forward into Crowley before he can stop himself.

Crowley moves forward to catch him with natural fluidity, like it’s easy, like he doesn’t even have to think, pushing up with his knees so that Aziraphale’s head is resting against his chest. Crowley’s arms wrap around him, one around his shoulders, another holding the back of his head carefully. Aziraphale wonders if anyone has ever been so very careful with him. He doesn’t know how long they stay there, but at some point he’s closed his eyes again and by the time he opens them the blue of the sky is streaked through with oranges and pinks and Crowley has wrapped his own sable wings around them both loosely in a protective shelter to block out the breeze, chilled by the sun’s impending disappearance over the horizon.

Aziraphale shifts against him, and when Crowley speaks Aziraphale can feel the soft rumble in his chest, “What can I do? What do you want from me?”

Aziraphale pulls himself up to press his eyes into Crowley’s neck, “Nothing.” There’s a long pause as neither of them move, “Stay.” His next word is a whisper, tentative and reaching, “Please.”

Crowley moves backwards, and for an awful second Aziraphale thinks he’s pulling back so that he can leave, but the catch in his breath is soothed by Crowley’s hand running down the length of his back, stopping to hold over the small of it, “Okay. Okay, angel. I’ll stay.”

Aziraphale lets out his breath in a gust of relief, and when Crowley continues to move he lets himself be maneuvered until he’s lying flat, cheek to the earth. He’s stretched out and pliant in the slightly damp grass and the soft sensations of the night are lulling the aching in his bones to a quiet hum. He thinks he should be surprised when he feels Crowley's fingers sink into his feathers but he’s really, really not. It makes sense that he’s there, that he saw the grime and the disorder to his feathers and he decided to make it right. He’s always been caring in a way Aziraphale has never managed. In an easy way, like giving these things to Aziraphale is nothing more than an extension of himself, like breathing.

Aziraphale can’t help but wonder what he did to deserve this from him. It feels like all he does is take from Crowley. He’s worried that there isn’t enough left of him to give after he’s exhausted so much of himself on heaven, on humanity, on all of the ways he’s tried to help and has come up wanting.

Crowley is working on his feathers properly now. He’s miracled up a damp cloth and is wiping each one clean of grime meticulously, pulling out any loose feathers and down he comes across along the way and dropping them into a forming pile at Aziraphale’s hip. It’s silent as he works. There are crickets, and frogs somewhere, but no one is crying, and no one is choking on their own life force, eyes wide and begging wordlessly for him to help. He’s so tired of helping. No. He’s not tired of helping. He’s tired of comforting. He knows he could stomach it all if he was helping, but he’s not, and he hasn’t in so very long, and what is even the point of him anymore?

Silent tears are slipping from his eyes and dripping into the grass and he’s shaking with grief and when did this happen? When did his emptiness start to feel like knives to his insides? Crowley makes a broken sound when he sees Aziraphale’s tears. Moves one of his steady hands to the center of his back and presses him down with it, just slightly, lending him comfort through the weight of it, tethering him. Crowley must decide this isn’t enough because he leans over his prone form and rests along his back, sliding the hand between his shoulder blades up to brush away the tears he can reach. Aziraphale can feel his breath on the back of his neck, cool and dry, and lets himself get lost in the sensation of the warm blanket of Crowley’s body. It’s sealing him up, whatever this is, patching his cracks and stoppering the holes that have been letting in water to drown him, and Aziraphale holds himself back from letting a low whine escape his throat before he can seem even more desperate than he already is.

After some time Crowley levers himself up again to continue, eventually tugging at Aziraphale’s shoulder, signaling for him to flip over and give him access to the underside of his wings. Aziraphale obeys ponderously, and it’s strange to feel the cold night air on his damp clothes, his skin still itching with indentations from the coarse grass. Crowley sets to work on the other side, and Aziraphale watches the pile of his discarded feathers grow.

His wings had been a constant discomfort, although he wasn’t aware of it, and having them groomed is akin to how he imagines Crowley feels after taking his hair down after a long day and shaking it out. Aziraphale hasn't seen this end-of-the-day routine often, but when he has the chance he always watches with fondness as Crowley runs his fingernails over his scalp and closes his eyes in pleasure at the freedom. It’s such a simple comfort. A loose relief.

Crowley touches his shoulder again, his fingers are cold now after being exposed to the chill of the air for so long, and Aziraphale rolls over onto his stomach, bringing his arms up to cushion his head. Crowley works the oil from the gland at the base of his wings, coating his palms, and sets to work on the second round.

He takes his time, laying each feather flat as he coats it with fresh oil. It’s another hour before he finishes, the sunset has brightened and faded, leaving new stars in its wake, but he never wavers. Crowley has taken care of him like this twice before, after both the flood and the crucifixion. Actually, they took care of each other after the flood: curled together in the corner of one of the few unoccupied roofs left to stand on. They were soaked by then, and it took a steady stream of miracles from them both to keep from being swept away by the current, but neither of them could leave. They didn’t discuss it, simply sat together in the perpetually rising rapids and listened. They took turns mourning, falling apart and putting each other back together as they watched the world die. It took days. The animals went first, then the humans. The last to go were the birds, but the two didn’t stick around to watch them drop from the sky in exhaustion. They didn’t mention it, would never mention it, would never let the horror of those days rise up from the secret places they buried them in.

The crucifixion was three days of agony. The Son of God gave up his spirit, taking his light, the light of the Almighty, with him into death, and for three long days and nights there was nothing but a devastation so complete the humans were left groping their way across the earth, helpless and lost. It pressed in and ate at them, a despair so profound children didn’t stop crying until the sun finally rose on that third day. Aziraphale was shaking with it, anguished and breaking apart. He was created to serve, to be in the presence of God, and her absence… he had never felt anything so horrible in all of his existence. Crowley held him through it, whispered to him, touched him, reminded him again and again, “I’m here, angel, I’ve got you. You’re not alone.” And he wasn’t. He clung to Crowley like a life raft in a storm, and for the first time comprehended what it would be like to fall. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t.

Never again.

By the time Crowley finishes Aziraphale hasn’t been able to focus on anything but his touch for a long while and his wings are sleek and perfectly ordered in the moonlight. When his touch finally leaves Aziraphale misses him, but he makes no sound, simply flips back onto his stomach and raises his wing in invitation. They’d done this before. Crowley knows what he is asking. Aziraphale is breathless with anticipation, with longing, with hope, his heart beating double time at his small offering.

Crowley doesn’t hesitate, but crawls forward and wedges himself against Aziraphale’s side. He’s freezing, Aziraphale feels horrible that he didn’t notice before and shifts so that he’s lying on his side. He should have known, should have realized. Demons run cold--so deep under the earth, so far from the light--and Crowley has nothing to replace that glow, nothing but skin and bones. He pulls Crowley closer against him and wraps him up in his warm arms. If nothing else he can provide Crowley with this comfort.

Crowley reaches out slowly in return. He attaches himself to Aziraphale in increments: first coiling his arm around Aziraphale’s side, keeping the other furled tightly between their chests, then sliding a leg between Aziraphale’s knees. Aziraphale hugs him tight. No one has ever been so very aware of him. Of his corners and cracks. Aziraphale tries not to think this way, tries not to think about Crowley at all when he can help it. About the reverent way Crowley treats him. The way he steals glances and touches. The way his eyelashes cast shadows on his sharp cheeks and he leans towards Aziraphale like a plant in the sun.

The more he thinks about it the more he aches with the loss of him, and if Aziraphale lets himself feel the way his insides tear to pieces whenever Crowley leaves without saying goodbye he’ll never stop. So he doesn’t, even though the warm glow of being close is stealing his breath away and setting off a minefield’s worth of explosions in his head, he doesn’t think about it. He screws his face up tight and pulls Crowley’s shivering body closer and lets his wings thrum with the memory of his touch and he does not think about it.

He just doesn’t know what goodness is supposed to look like if it isn’t white walls and dead air. He hates it, he hates it with everything in him, and he thinks it makes him horrible, but the reality of his twisted existence is that he doesn’t know if he could stand without the crutch of heaven’s vague orders. So he pulls Crowley closer and tucks his head under his chin, letting his lips hover over the crown of Crowley’s head, don’t touch, careful not to touch, and he doesn’t think about any of it.

Crowley will be gone in the morning. He always is. Aziraphale can’t bear to think about that either. He thinks that if he feels Crowley slip out of his arms he might give himself up to it with wild abandon. Drag him back down. Beg him to stay, stay next to him forever, they’ll never have to untangle their limbs and no one will ever have to go, but he can't. He can’t make himself. Not after all this time. Instead, he lets himself drift off to the soft whir of the tender warmth in his chest, and he pretends that tomorrow he’ll wake with the sunrise, and everything will sparkle in the new light, and it will all be okay. Like this, Crowley curled close to his chest under a blanket of constellations, letting himself believe is as easy as falling asleep.

answer some questions and i’ll assign you a type of fictional romance <333

"Love me or hate me are both in my favor. If you love me, I'll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I'll always be in your mind."

(William Shakespeare)

My first ever CaiRai fanart!!! 😍⚡✨

Caius x Lightning ALL THE WAAAAY!

P.S. Im too lazy to draw the minor details on her sword 😅. Let us just think that its a different kind of sword in this alternate universe 😁.

And I forgot to add depth to their hair colors (I just realized that). 😅

Its time to get poetic for this "fated rivals" romance.

Are they really 'fated' to be each other's rivals?

Or do they have the choice to make amends with each other?

Peaches & Cream: Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Masterlist

➪ Pairing: jungkook x female reader

➪ Synopsis: Losing his memory following a motorcycle accident, Jungkook learns to live life again, but this time, with no past recollection of everything you meant to him. Connecting the broken pieces, you meet again for the first time, as if strangers. Will his heart still beat the same way it did for you before the incident, or were your souls destined to merely meet but not to be?

➪ Genre: forbidden love, strangers to friends to lovers, commitment issues, fear of abandonment, angst, slow burn, plot twists

➪ Status: Ongoing

➪ Author's Note: Being a continuation of Peaches & Cream, this season will include references to those chapters, thus it is highly encouraged to catch up to the initial plot first.

Chapter 1: The Infinity Necklace - 1.7k

Chapter 2: It Was All a Dream, I Promise - 2.6k

Chapter 3: The Lucky Day - 3.9k

Chapter 4: Strangers With Memories - 4.1k

Chapter 5: Selfish

Chapter 6: The Cold War

Chapter 7: The Letters

Chapter 8: Tethered Souls

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 1: The Infinity Necklace

“I love you too, Koo,” a faint whisper comes out of my parted lips as Jungkook’s eyes slowly close from the anesthesia spreading through his system, blocking any remaining signals of consciousness. Just an hour ago, this room was filled with our laughter as his teasing request to ruin our friendship bounced off the four walls, fueling the flush rising up my cheeks. Now, the same room is still, as if time itself has stopped, the walls, echoing merely the beeps of the heart monitor. 

As my body becomes numb to the cold floor, I lose track of time, dissociating into the far abyss. And as my eyes rest shut, it’s as if I can still feel his warm embrace, the way his grip tightens around my waist with every restless move I try to make. While hundreds of souls pass by my lifeless form under the dim lights of the main hallway, nothing but the scent of Jungkook’s vanilla musk lingers in the cold air. Koo, please tell me this isn’t real. 

"Mira, honey, wake up,” whispers of a familiar voice bring me back to reality as I feel a hand on my shivering shoulders. 

“Koo?” I reply momentarily, red, puffy eyes looking up in search of his being. One that was certainly no longer there, as my helpless hope ceased to exist upon seeing Tae’s worried face. Feeling my eyes swell with tears, his arms encompass my distressed self as my fatigued body gives into his warm embrace. Stroking my curls, his touch is gentle, cautious even. 

“It’s going to be okay Mira. Jungkook is a tough guy, he will be fine, alright?” he assures, wiping the tears rolling down my face, before turning his attention to Jimin's out-of-breath state as he rushes towards us.

“Sorry, the traffic was really bad,” Jimin explains to Tae before looking past his form as his eyes search my crouched body. 

“Mira, how are you? Do you want some water? I can grab you something from the cafeteria …” he goes on as the head surgeon and their team of staff exit Jungkook's room. Hearing the door close behind them, my eyes shoot up, slight hope regenerating within those tired orbs. 

“How is he? Can I see him? Please,” my voice was faint and shaky. Before proceeding with the prognosis the doctor clears her throat, looking over Jungkook's records. 

“The head injury experienced by Mr. Jeon has resulted in trauma that escalated dramatically, leaving him in a temporary coma. It is important to note that prior to our operation, the effects of the incident were seen in his inability to access the short-term memory in his brain. Despite meeting us just a few hours ago, Mr. Jeon was in visible distress, alarmed at the sight of “unrecognizable” doctors and nurses,” she explains, maintaining eye contact with all three of us, anticipating the potential inquiries that could come up.

“Fortunately, his vitals are good, which means that Mr. Jeon’s recovery shouldn't take longer than, I reckon, a week or two,” 

“What about his memory? Will he be able to recover it?” Jimin buds in, eyes still monitoring my state. Which to be truthful, was in complete shock. My body was experiencing everything and nothing all at once. At that moment, I could cry, hyperventilate, scream, yell, curse, and all of the above. But I didn't, instead, my eyes were trying to sneak even the slightest glimpse of Jungkook through the little window. 

“Doctor, could I please see him?” I plead, looking back at Tae and Jimin for their mutual help. 

“I'm sorry miss, but visitations are not allowed until the following day,” she says firmly, before being interrupted by Tae’s attempt at negotiation. 

“Please, doctor, could we stay just for tonight? We will leave first thing tomorrow morning. His family is all in Busan,” he explains. 

Looking back at the staff, the doctor clears her throat again before turning her gaze back on me with slightly furrowed brows. 

“Alright, but just for tonight. Please, do not disturb him,” her tone is strict and sharp. 

As my chest heaves up, I can feel my breathing speed up, throat tightening in the process. Eyes swelled up with tears, I pushed past the group of nurses and doctors and rushed toward Jungkook’s still body. His skin was pale and cold to the touch. Eyes closed, he looked completely helpless, form, small and fragile under the hospital lights. 

“Koo,” I whisper, before dropping beside him, intertwining my hand with his. Placing a gentle kiss on his soft skin, I wipe the teardrops rolling down my face before glancing back at Tae and Jimin, who stood still by the door frame. It’s their best friend, their brother, the baby of the group. Eyes scattering his form, they try to hold back their own tears, before coming in to comfort me again. 

As the night went on the room filled with silence, my eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing hour. Jimin went out to get us some food, while Tae stayed with me, gently caressing my hair as my head rested beside Jungkook’s. I didn’t mean to but I guess, my body couldn’t resist any longer, giving in to the fatigue as my eyes slowly shut. Falling asleep, I could feel Jimin covering my seated form with his jacket, as their voices became increasingly distant. 

“I can sleep on the floor, it's fine,” Jimin suggests.

“Are you insane? It’s cold and dirty, let’s just share the couch,” Tae says, before plopping his aching body on the soft cushion. Doing the same, Jimin exhales deeply, shaking his head trying to comprehend the aftermath of the situation. His analysis, however, was short-lived, as the two succumbed to their own fatigue, falling asleep rather quickly. And, as the beeping sound of the heart machine filled the atmosphere, I sneaked a quick glance at the couch, smiling upon seeing both friends covered under Tae’s jacket. 

- -

Staying true to our word, we were gone by the morning but as I looked back at Jungkook’s pale face the aching feeling in my heart grew stronger. 

“I’ll be back Koo, I promise,” I whisper into his ear, tearful gaze focused on his closed eyes. With hopes of receiving even the slightest sign of his consciousness, I wait just a little longer before covering his still body with the soft blanket. 

The following days were filled with visits from Jungkook’s faculty friends and work acquaintances, who brought anything and everything that once made him laugh. Eventually, as the room filled with his memories, the dim lights under which Jungkook slept became brighter, fueling back the life he was once so full of. 

“I hope you like it, baby,” I say softly, looking at the silver necklace around his neck. An infinity necklace. A symbol of never-ending love pillared on an unending bond between two people.

“Koo, you promised you wouldn’t leave. But, I guess, it’s my turn to wait for you now. I’ll wait for infinity if I have to. Just please come back to me,” my words mutter into the soft kiss on his forehead, as tears roll down my face. Leaning closer, I rest my head on his as we sit in the deafening silence. I miss his laugh and the little nose crunch that followed right after. I miss his bunny teeth and the way his doe eyes sparkled. I just miss … him.

- -

Laughter and chatter fill the lecture hall as the professor dismisses the class upon wishing everyone a restful winter break. Glancing at Tae, we exchange soft smiles before heading out. Although my body desperately needs this break, my mind and heart are just simply not at ease, so it’s hard to truly appreciate the free time. Especially, without the one person I was meant to spend it with. 

“I’m going to try out the bakery that just opened by our dormitory, do you want me to grab you something?” Tae asks with a boxy smile, eyes searching mine. 

“No, thanks Tae. I’m gonna drop by Jungkook, and see how he’s doing,” I say softly. Even though, we both know how he is doing. Unconscious and lonely. Nonetheless, I promised him I wouldn’t leave, so I tried to visit every day, becoming a familiar face to the receptionists working at the front. And, although Tae knows this isn’t the healthiest of coping mechanisms, he doesn’t have the heart to snap me out of it, so instead, he pulls me into a warm hug before we wave each other goodbye. 

- - 

Stopping by the flower shop, I grab a bouquet of tiger lilies which were Koo’s favourite, before heading to the hospital. As the winter season progressed, the days became colder and darker. But, nothing could stop me, especially not when even the mere thought of being beside Jungkook warmed my aching heart. So, there I was, rushing towards his embrace before being abruptly stopped in my tracks upon seeing the empty room. Nothing, and I mean nothing is left of Jungkook’s presence. Feeling my breathing increase, I double-check the room number, even though I’ve now memorized every inch of his premises. 

“Sorry, but where is the patient residing in room 9223?” I ask one of the nurses passing by. 

“Oh, Mr. Jeon has been discharged,” she replies calmly, her smile slowly fading upon seeing the way my eyebrows furrowed with confusion. 

“Discharged? By who? How? I was here yesterday, and he was still unconscious,” I exclaim, voice now shaky. 

“Mr. Jeon was discharged early in the morning by his parents,” the nurse continued before excusing herself as the ringing of her pager filled the silence between us. And, as my eyes swell with tears, I dial Jimin’s phone number, hoping he would know where Jungkook is. 

“Mira?” 

“Jimin? Jiminah, is Jungkook with you?” I stutter nervously, tears rolling down my flushed face. 

“No, I was just going to call you. His room is empty, what’s going on?” Jimin explains, sounding just as confused. 

“I don’t know, apparently, his parents came to pick him up,” I shake my head, trying to regain my composure as my hands begin to tremble. Jungkook wouldn’t leave without telling me. Right?

Next l Index

Heart Strings | Teaser

➪ Pairing: villain jungkook x female reader 

➪ Synopsis: They say that wounded hearts beat the loudest, but in a void of chaos and destruction Ian’s deafening cries for help seem to echo louder. Labelled as a villain, all the light in the world becomes his darkness, as he learns to despise the idea of a warm embrace. Running from her future, y/n meets Ian, whose entire life was spent running from his past and as their paths cross, peace is found in the present. In his eyes, she changes everything, uncovering the side of him the world once failed to see. Tethered together by the threads of her heartstrings, he falls in love. But, as they say, nothing lasts forever. Not even the beats of a reformed broken heart. What happens when the villain’s first love becomes everything the hero desires? 

➪ Genre: first love, forbidden romance, grumpy × sunshine, history repeating itself, love triangle, slow burn, plot twists

➪ Author’s Note: I chose Jungkook’s rumoured English stage name for his role in this series, Ian. Ian Crawford. Inspiration for the plot stems from Natasha Blume's Black Sea and Indila's Ainsi bas la Vida.

Chapter 1: It's Me and You Against the World, Slash

Chapter 2: The Boy in the Attic

Chapter 3: Nobody's Son, Nobody's Daughter

Chapter 4: Mother's Eyes

Chapter 5: Let Me Show You Power

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 2: It Was All a Dream, I Promise

a/n: Writing that has been italicized + highlighted blue represents past memories or dreams, while writing that is italicized + bolded is a letter.

Months have passed since I last saw Jungkook. From the day he was discharged till now, no one has heard from him or his family. No texts, no calls. Nothing. Even his academic advisor raised concern regarding his absence, and still, there was radio silence on the other side of the line. It’s as if he never existed in the first place. He left with the cold winter and never came back to see the blooming of the spring cherry blossoms. 

Naturally, the last three months have been nothing short of torture. Day after day, night after night, I prayed to God, prayed that he would bring Koo back to me. Every morning, I would call his number just to hear his voicemail greeting, the one we crafted together during our late-night run to 7/11. 

“Hello, you've reached Jungkook’s voicemail. Please don't leave a message unless you're Mira,” Jungkook says confidently, scrunching his nose at the way my eyes widened from disbelief. 

“Koo!? You have to take this seriously. What if an employer calls you?” I exclaim, gaze softened at the sight of his bunny teeth on full display. 

“I'm sure they'll be able to tell if they're you or not,” he grins, taking a sip of his strawberry milk before pulling my chair closer to him, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. 

My eyes swell with tears reminiscing our memories. It pains me to think of the possibility that he might not even remember me. I'm not sure how long, if at all, I'd be able to last in a universe where Jungkook sees me as a stranger again. After all we've been through, man, that would hurt immensely. Nonetheless, I hold on to the hope that he is not alone. Surrounded by his loved ones, I hope Koo is resting in peace, at ease. This wish, however, has yet to overcome the aching feeling in my chest, my desire to hold him in my embrace. To be close to him once again. To tell him how much I love him. 

“Mira? Miraya, honey, can you hear me?” my mom shouts through the phone. After all this time, she has yet to learn how to properly use Facetime. 

“Mommy, I'm looking at your ear. You have to turn the camera towards you, remember?” I giggle, eyes tearing up from the mere sound of her voice. I've missed her. I've missed my family. I wasn't able to go back home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, so it's been ages since I last saw them. Nonetheless, after trial and error, mostly error, I could finally see my mother’s beautiful face which was trying its hardest to hold back the built-up sadness. 

“My love,” she whispers, worried gaze searching my scattering eyes. 

“Miraya, what's wrong?” 

“Nothing, I just missed you guys so much,” I say softly, pulling my knees to my chest as my body sits crouched on the cold kitchen floor. 

“Just one more week, honey. Your dad is so excited, you don't even know. He has packed the fridge with your favorite food, and is holding it hostage till your arrival,” she chuckles, shaking her head at my dad's behaviour. 

“One more week,” I repeat, looking up at the picture of Koo and me on the fridge. The photo booth snapshots we took at the dumpling restaurant near the Oceana beach. I wonder if he kept his word. 

“Jungkook, what the heck?” I yelp, hitting his forearm. “I can’t show these to anyone now,” I point to the last photo, in which his face remained inches away from mine as my body froze behind his Iron Man hat. Compared to the previous three takes, this one clearly did not fit the friendly theme. 

“Why not? Nothing happened,” he grins, leaning his head back. 

“Nothing happened my ass, it's obviously suggestive,” I roll my eyes. 

“Let their imagination run wild then. I'm putting mine in my wallet, you can put yours on your bulletin board, I heard manifesting is a popular practice these days,” he chuckles teasingly, giving me a sly wink.  

“Oh, by the way, I sent you some clothes for when you arrive. It’s been raining here nonstop and I wasn’t sure if you packed good rain boots,” my mom’s voice brings me out of my daydream, as I nod my head accordingly. 

“Thank you, mommy. I’ll let you know when I receive them,” 

“No, they should have already been delivered. I got the notification today,” 

“Oh, okay, then I’ll check the mailbox right after our call,” I say with a soft smile. 

“Well, I’m not gonna take up any more of your time, I’m sure you’re busy with finals. Please, just confirm that you got the package,” my mom says, sending me a flying kiss as I wave her goodbye. 

“I love you, mommy,” 

“Love you more, Mira,” 

Putting my hair in a messy bun, I grab my keys and ID before heading out the door. I did in fact pack some rainboots upon my arrival to Korea, but didn’t have the heart to tell my mom that on the phone. Her smile was too contagious for that news. Anyways, who would pass on free clothes? So, I make my way down to the mail room before scanning the area for my number, 1289. 

“Okay, oop, jeez, how big were these boots?” I huff and puff from all the heavy lifting, before stumbling back on my tippy toes. Managing to finally open the box, my eyes widen from the amount of snacks my mom packed. You know, sometimes, I think my parents think that my university doesn’t provide food. As if I beg my neighbors for a cup of sugar each night. I can’t complain though, I really do appreciate the way they show their love and care. So, yes, I will be indulging in all of these before I leave. Locking my mailbox I get a better grip of the box before heading out, that is, until one of the front desk employees stops me. 

“Miss! You dropped something,” he points to the white envelope on the ground. 

“Oh, thank you,” I say with a soft smile before opening what seems like a letter. 

To Miss Jean,

Hello Mira, this is Mrs. Jeon. I apologize for not reaching out to you sooner, I’m sure you’ve been worried sick. But, I hope you can understand that we as a family needed to take some time to help Jungkook heal. He is doing well. Although, his memory, at least of last year has been completely wiped. It’s been a tough journey, but the fact that he regained his consciousness is truly a miracle on its own. We really thought we lost him. You have no idea how much I cried that day. For a mother, losing her child is worse than death itself. So, I thank God every day for his protection. 

With that being said, the reason I’m writing to you is regarding your relationship with Jungkook. Please don’t take this too personally, but I need you to cut all ties with him. When I received the phone call from the paramedics on site, they reported that he was found unconscious on the side of the road, holding onto a bloodstained picture of you guys. Now, I tried to remain as reasonable as possible, but he is my son and I would do anything to protect him. Even if that means coming in between you two. I’m not sure if you guys were dating or tied by any romantic relationship, but from the way he talked about you, the dots were relatively easy to connect. 

He doesn’t remember anything, Mira. He doesn’t remember you. In hindsight, maybe it's for the best. I truly hope that you will be able to understand and respect my decision. Don’t call, don’t write, don’t interact. Jungkook will be returning back to Seoul for the Fall semester, and I trust that you will follow the plan. If he initiates contact first, try your best to avoid it at all costs. Just please, don’t make me worry about him again.  

Feeling my throat tighten, my chest heaves up from the sudden flow of emotions. What is going on? What did I just read? Cut all ties? He doesn’t remember me? Did I just receive an ultimatum from Jungkook’s mom before ever meeting her? My eyes swelled with tears as I looked around, scanning the room for any sign of life that would confirm if this was real or just a bad, bad dream. 

“Miss, are you okay?” the man at the front desk asks gently, his smile slowly fading as my body drops to the floor. 

“I don’t know,” I whisper, before looking up at his worried expression. Feeling my eyes dissociate into the distance, there’s a trail of teardrops marking the wooden floor as the denial settles in. Don’t call … Don’t write … Don’t interact. 

- - 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Toronto. It is currently 8 pm exactly and pouring cats and dogs outside. So, I hope you dressed appropriately. On behalf of the cabin crew, I would like to thank you for flying with Air Canada. Enjoy the rest of your day!” the pilot's voice mumbles through the speakers as the sound of safety belts being unbuckled fills the tight space. 

Mom was right, Mother Nature seems to not be too happy about something, because why is it thunderstorming? To be fair though, I love it when it rains. Something about its aftermath, specifically, the smell of wet cement the next morning just tickles my brain. 

Mira: Just landed! Will be out shortly ❤️

Mommy: Thank goodness, we can't wait to see you, my love!

Daddy: Miraya, honey, I'll be standing right by the doors to help with the luggage. 

Mino: I hope you packed lightly -_- 

Milo: Mira, did you get us anything? ;)

Having younger brothers is definitely an experience, but I can’t lie, I managed to miss them as well. And, as I rolled my suitcase down the exit, I could feel my heartbeat increase, palms getting sweaty from the nerves. Overwhelmed by the emotions, it takes only a glimpse of my father’s face for me to break down. With tears rolling down my flushed face, we pulled each other into a long embrace, as my mother’s hands caressed my dishevelled curls. Pressing a soft kiss on my forehead, she cups my face in her warm palms before searching my teary eyes. 

“My sweet, sweet girl,” she says softly, wiping my tears with her pink handkerchief, as my dad navigates us out of the airport to our car.  

The drive back home was rather sentimental. With every turn I caught myself reminiscing my childhood memories. The time I broke my wrist falling off the monkey bars in my elementary park, or the time my friends and I tried to sneak into a frat party dressed like those edgy college girls … you can imagine the outcome, I don’t even have to explain. 

“Peaches!” 

A faint voice brings me out of my dissociation as I snap my head towards my younger brother whose smile visibly fades from the intensity of my stare. 

“What?” Milo asks slowly, eyebrows furrowed from confusion. 

“What did you just say?” I scoff, a bit more harshly than initially intended. 

“Mommy asked what fruit she should use for her pie …” his words trail off into the car's ambience, as my eyes swell with tears. God, I miss Jungkook so much that I’m now hearing things. Surely, this isn’t healthy. 

“Sorry, I must have misheard you,” I try to subside the suspense with a soft smile before looking out the rainy window again. Feeling my throat slowly tighten, I try to shake away the thought that somewhere across the ocean, rests a soul whose heart no longer beats for me. 

“He doesn’t remember you, Mira,” Mrs. Jeon’s voice keeps replaying in my head as I bury my face deeper into the duvet, attempting to block the thoughts with my pillow. Unfortunately though, It’s not working as the haunting realization of our future, or rather, the lack of it, has already consumed my conscious mind. It’s not fair. I’ve lost him once and can’t bear to lose him again. Which, I guess … is exactly what Mrs. Jeon is feeling right now. 

“Ugh, Mira, shhhh. Please, just let me sleep,” I snap at my racing thoughts, turning aimlessly inside the soft sheets before feeling my body slowly give in to the fatigue as my vision goes pitch black. 

“Koo!” I call out his name as we run towards each other with open arms across a field of orange tiger lilies. 

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he says softly, lifting me in the air before we melt into each other’s embrace. Tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear, he caresses my cheek with the back of his palm before searching my teary eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks hushly, leaning closer as our lips rest inches apart. 

“Koo, please tell me that you remember me, that you remember us,” I cry out, placing my hands on his warm chest. 

“Of course, I do Peaches. What are you saying?” Jungkook’s voice is soft but full of worry as he moves my hand to his heart. 

“You lost your memory. Your mom said you don’t remember anything. Nothing,” 

“Mira, baby, please don’t cry. It was all a dream, I promise,” he says with a gentle smile, before wiping the tears off my face, resting his forehead on mine.

“It’s you and me, till my heart stops beating,” 

His words fade into the distance before I’m awakened by the feeling of sheer distress. Chest heaving up, there’s sweat dripping down my face as I reach for my journal on the nightstand. With shaky hands, I jot down the sudden overflow of my emotions in the form of a letter. 

Dear Koo, 

I saw you today and … it felt so real. Your embrace was warm, familiar and full of love. We were finally happy again. Except … it wasn't real, none of it was real. You promised it was all just a dream, but you lied. This … this is a nightmare.

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I'm still in the drafting/planning process, but I envision Jungkook's character as a mix of these three fellas in my upcoming Heart Strings series. I adore them all deeply, so it will be fun incorporating their respective traits into his story.

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 3: The Lucky Day

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of an eating disorder and depression, please read with caution as topics may be triggering.

a/n: Alexa, play Daddy's Home <3 Anywho, OC's spiralling summer was inspired by Bella's montage of passing seasons in Twilight ... I'm sorry, but I need to preface that OC will be going through it this whole season, I have already cried thrice. Also, a side question, can you guys actually play the songs I post for these chapters? Meaning, does Tumblr let yall do that or am I trippin? Because I truly think they add a lot to the overall experience. If not, please let me know, then maybe I'll just turn them into a Spotify playlist.

Sleep has become my escape. A temporary withdrawal from reality in which I live to remember everything Jungkook has forgotten. Sleeping through each passing day, I know that at least in my dreams we are still together. In my dreams, I will always find my way back to you, Koo. Even if you don’t remember it, the moon knows that we were once in love. It hears my helpless cries at night and feels every atom of my being that misses you, fearing the idea of us becoming strangers once again. 

It’s as if my happiness was erased with his departure. Holding my hand through each step of the way, he showed me the beauty in life and ended up being the one to take it all away when my fearing heart failed to reciprocate the painfully obvious love tethered between us. Now, my life is dull and pointless. How can I love someone else when every night I dream of you, Koo?

Swallowing pills to mute the sound of my heart beating for his barest touch, I’ve become lost in my own mind, haunted by everlasting thoughts. Although I thought I would be able to at least pretend to be happy for the sake of my family, it’s all become too much. Thus, it was only a matter of days, before my deteriorating behaviour sparked concern in my parents, fueling tension in the air we shared. It all started with fatigue, which then transformed into chronic sleep and in the end began to affect my eating habits. Feeling nauseous from the mere thought of food, I’ve grown to dissociate myself from it. I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat. And, as my hope slowly diminished, so did the number on the scale. 

“Mira, you have to eat,” my mom’s voice echoes in my ear as my eyes fixate on the plate of steamed broccoli in front of me. 

“I’m not hungry, I told you,” I sigh, swallowing down the lie with some water. 

“Mira, honey, please talk to us. What’s wrong?” my dad asks softly, placing his hand on top of mine. Hearing the trembles in his words, my eyes swell with tears before I shake myself out of it.

“I’m fine … just feeling a bit under the weather,”

“The sun has been at its highest peak this whole time, what’s seasonal about this?” my mom tries to remain composed as she shifts her chair closer to mine. 

“Talk to me, honey. What’s gotten into you? You were so excited to come back,” her hands caress my tangled hair as I nibble on the dead skin on my lip. 

“Mira, you’ve been silent since you came, and now you won’t even eat. Your mom and I can’t bear to see you like this,” 

“Come back home, Miraya. We can find another university here,”

“No. It’s not that. I’m fine, I swear. I just … I just need this break to end already, so I can focus on my studies again. That’ll keep my mind occupied,” I whisper softly, attempting to fake a smile as my empty gaze searches their scattering eyes. Recently, that's how most of our conversations ended. With helpless promises feeding my delusions. However, with each passing day, I come to realise that promises are nothing more than sweet lies. If it weren’t true, I wouldn’t have to find excuses for the aching feeling in my heart, but rather, melt in the overflowing passion of Jungkook’s burning love. 

Excusing myself, I throw away the cold plate of food and head back to my room, one which was once filled with laughter and a carefree sense of ambition. The same walls that watched me cry out of happiness upon receiving my acceptance letter just a few months ago are the ones that now echo my pathetic cries for help. Every inch of this room has become cold and numb, and I’m afraid that there is no more warmth in me that could fix this. 

Crouched in a fetal position as my body shivers under the floral duvet my mom gifted me as a welcome present, I dial Jimin’s phone number. It has been weeks since he moved back to Busan, but I have yet to receive any updates from him about Jungkook. In hindsight, maybe, it’s for the best, but if silence is the thing that'll save me then why do I still hold onto the smallest glimpse of hope for us? Even if it means walking across a minefield of rejected possibilities that would ultimately send me into a never-ending spiral, why do I still care?

“How is he?” I ask with hesitation. 

“Different. He’s different.” Jimin replies softly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, he seems distant. Which is fair, I guess. But, he doesn’t quite seem to remember me,” 

“At all?” my voice shakes as I choke up. 

“Well no, he is still able to recover our memories from when we were kids, but recent events are very blurry,” Jimin goes on. 

I, was recent to Jungkook. We, were recent to him. Four months, that's how long I've known Koo, but I’ve been missing him for the last seven. Each day I daydream, reminiscing our memories, feeling the void in my heart knowing that I’ve been without him longer than I’ve been with him. Maybe, Mrs. Jeon was right. I would be lying if I said that a little part of me didn’t think that the reason for her ultimatum was purely based on a simple dislike of me. You know? Like, she didn’t see me as a good match for her son? Because, even then, her disapproval of my character would have been an easier pill to swallow than knowing that now, in Koo’s empty eyes, I’m no longer his Peaches, but a stranger. God, it hurts to even say it out loud let alone accept it. I can’t accept it, but I have to now, don’t I?

“Please take care of him for me Jiminah,” I manage to let out, wiping the tears rolling down my face. 

“I will Mira, don’t worry. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“See you,” I end the call, throwing my phone across the bed, my puffy eyes irritated by the brightness. 

That night was especially hard. Although my body was desperately wanting to succumb to the exhaustion, my mind wouldn't shut up. It kept replaying our memories, reminding me of the things I should have said. The words Koo never heard, but deserved to.

--

Hugging my mom, her trembling hands tighten their hold on my sweater as I take in the smell of her perfume for the last time. I missed her a lot, and the guilt of putting my parents through that torture has been eating me alive this whole summer. All they wanted was to see their daughter smile and I failed to fulfill even the simplest of their wishes. If only they knew how much I wanted to smile again. 

“Mira, I’m telling you again, we can find another university here,” my mom says with teary eyes. 

“Just say yes, and we’ll deal with all the transfer stuff, honey,” my dad joins, caressing my palms, as I let out a soft chuckle before shaking my head no. 

“That’s not fair. You guys didn’t raise a quitter,” I manage to let out, feeling my throat tighten from the build-up of emotions. 

“You’re right, we didn’t. But, even the strongest soldier needs a shoulder to cry on. Remember that we are and always will be by your side, Miraya,”

“Call us as soon as you land, love,” 

Passing through the airport security, I wave to my family my last goodbyes before heading to my gate. Am I excited to come back to Seoul? I don’t really have a choice, do I? That God-awful Nursing degree won’t finish itself, so yeah, I kind of have to go back. But, I know that school isn’t the only thing pulling me back. I know I can’t, but I still wish to see Jungkook, even from afar, it doesn’t matter. All I want now is to know that he is doing well.  

I’m not sure how, but as soon as my head rested against the seat my body shut down, falling into a much-needed sleep. I probably would have slept through the whole 12-hour flight if it weren’t for the bright beams of sunlight penetrating through my heavy eyelids. Taking a glimpse out the airplane window, I no longer saw snowy mountains but rather blossoming fields of greenery scattered within the busy cities of Korea. And, as the captain went through his ending speech, a flood of international students lined up near the exit, eager to get back into their previously established routine. It’s funny because I was sitting next to one of my cohort members from last semester, but we were both too tired to even realise. 

Nonetheless, putting my passport and ticket back into my carry on, I rolled my luggage down the escalator before a familiar voice called out my name. Searching the crowd of strangers filled with overwhelmed emotions, my eyes stop at a particular boxy smile. 

“Long time no see, Flip-flops!” Tae shouted across the hall, before waving me down to where he was standing with Jiah and Jimin who were just as excited about my arrival. Feeling my eyes swell with tears, I couldn’t help but laugh at his cute, little dance as he pulled me into a warm hug. 

“Tae, I’m certain you just don’t know my actual name,” I say with a grin, looking up at his sparkling eyes. 

“Of course, I do MJ,” he grins, rubbing the top of my head. Ha ha ha, isn’t he just a comedian? For context, my government name is Mira Jean … hence, the birth of MJ. 

“That’s enough, let us hug her too,” Jiah chuckles, opening her arms as my body virtually melts into her embrace. With tears rolling down our faces, her grip tightens around my form as she lets out a sudden gasp. 

“Mira! My goodness, why are you so small?” she asks with a concerned tone, her wide eyes scanning my body. Although, I always managed to maintain my normal weight, I guess, not eating properly for 3 months left its mark on the way I looked. As the numbers on the scale decreased, I became more and more fixated on the protrusion of my bones. I hated the feeling, but, I also couldn’t stop. Because I couldn’t get myself to eat, I relied on baggy clothes to create an illusion that would satisfy people’s perception of me. Unfortunately, I failed to fool Jiah as she saw right through the act. 

“I just stopped eating so much junk food, I’m fine. Trust me, this is a good thing Jiah, now I can finally fit into my favourite pair of jeans,” I try to laugh the pain away, caressing her hands as her furrowed eyebrows slowly release their tension. She isn’t convinced but also, doesn’t want to create a scene in public. I know that follow-up questions will be brought up along the way, but for now, my attention is focused on looking for someone who I know isn’t there. It’s silly, but before spotting Tae, a little part of me hoped to see Jungkook. To witness his sparkling doe eyes and bunny teeth, once again, like the good old times.  

“Okay, it’s settled, we are all going to my favourite Korean BBQ place,” Jimin exclaims, giving me a quick wink before grabbing both of the luggage out of my hands, and handing one to Tae. And, as Jiah intertwines her hands with mine, we exchange soft smiles exiting the airport as my skin finally feels the fresh, humid air of Seoul. Stopping mid-walk, I let out a deep sigh of relief. I hated every second of my summer, it was nothing short of pure torture but, at least, it too passed. 

“You’re good?” Tae whispers, softened gaze focused on my flushed cheeks. 

“Yeah,” I say softly, taking another deep breath as his arm caresses my shoulder. 

“He’s fine, Mira,” his words pierce through my ears as I unconsciously shoot him an alarming look. 

“You’ve heard from him?” I rush my words, anticipating his answer as my chest heaves up. 

“No, but I can feel your pain,” his tone is quieter now, eyes still searching mine. 

“I’m fine, Tae,” I mumble under my breath, lowering my head in fear of breaking down in front of them. 

“Just know that I’m always here for you, okay?” he says, pressing a soft kiss on my head before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. If only he could hear the way I’m screaming inside. The way I’m calling out for help. For someone to find hope in my hopeless state of mind. If only he knew how much I miss Jungkook. 

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Following the tradition, I will be hosting my annual house party before school beats all of our asses,” Jimin chuckles, caressing Jiah’s hand as their eyes focus on each other. Forcing down some dumpling soup into my system, I feel nauseous, but can’t risk growing Jiah's suspicion more, so I attempt to eat as little as possible without her noticing. 

“So, Mira, please come. Jungkook will be there as well,” Jimin continues with a soft smile which slowly fades upon noticing my gaze drop. Letting go of my spoon, my fingernails dig into my cold palms, as I’m back at square one. How am I supposed to face him when I can’t even handle the mere mention of his name? It’s not fair. None of them know about Mrs. Jeon’s ultimatum, and I fear that I can’t just simply tell them. So, I gulp down the pain and manage to put on another act, one that I seem to have mastered over the summer. 

“Mira, you’re okay?” Jiah asks, gently rubbing my forearm. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit jet-lagged. Sure, of course, I’ll come,” I reply with a reassuring smile, before looking at Tae. I recognize the sadness in his eyes because I see it in my own every passing minute. But, I can’t let him in. I can’t betray Mrs. Jeon’s trust, again. Even if it means that I have to betray my own heart.

--

We’ve been walking around the mall for probably 3 hours now and Jiah has yet to find something with that wow factor, meanwhile, I have already found 4 of the nearest exits. The party is set for tonight, and although I have already agreed to come, I can’t get myself to actually face the consequences. I can’t go, what was I thinking. What? Did I think everything was going to be fine once Jungkook saw me? Mira, he doesn’t remember you. 

“Jiah, you know, I really don’t think I should go tonight?” I say, slowly walking in circles as she eyes another mini dress. 

“What? Why?” she stutters, going through racks of possible options. 

“I’m just not feeling well,” I lie, fiddling with my fingers to calm down the nerves. 

“Mira, is something wrong?” Jiah stops what she’s doing before walking closer to my anxious self. 

“I’m fine, really,” I lie again. 

“You don’t look fine. You barely eat, barely sleep, barely talk to me,” she exclaims with a  tone firmer than before. 

“Then stop looking. Please, can everyone just leave me alone? I’m just tired, okay?” I burst, feeling everyone’s eyes on my distressed self. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. What do you need?” she says gently, reaching out her hands.  

“I just need space,” I whisper, crossing my arms in front of my burning chest. 

“Fine, I’ll give you some space. Please call me when you’re ready,” Jiah’s words cut deep as she walked out of the store, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The ones I’ve been trying to run away from this whole time. I can’t even get mad at her. She is only trying to help, but how can she when I keep shutting everyone out? It’s all my fault, I know. I just hope that this isn’t how it ends. I hope I don’t push everyone away, and someone sees right through the mask I put on. Because I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do or who to talk to.

Locking the door behind me I plop onto my bed before finally resting my heavy eyes. And, within minutes, I’m passed out again. I think, I've grown to become eternally tired, no matter how much I sleep, there is just no end to this fatigue. Moving restlessly, I pull the white cover over my shivering body before hearing my phone ring. 

“Ugh, what is it now?” I grunt, squinting from the screen brightness as a small gasp escapes my parted lips. It was 8 pm already. How is that possible? I swear, I just laid my head. But, no, apparently I’ve been asleep for the last 5 hours. 

“Hello?” I manage to let out. 

“Flip-flops? Where are you?” Tae screams through the loud music in the background. 

“Tae, I’m home. What happened?” 

“Mira hurry, Jiah is drunk. You need to come pick her up,” he exclaims with panic in his voice. 

“What? Where’s Jimin? Can he not drive her?” I stutter, lifting myself off of the bed before putting my hoodie back on. 

“You want him to drive under the influence? Of course, he is drunk too,” 

“Well, why can’t you drive them?” I whine, almost pleading. 

“Who said I wasn’t drunk either?” he chuckles, sending me a flying kiss through the phone. 

“Fine, I’ll be there in a bit. Keep an eye on Jiah,” I sigh before grabbing my keys and ID. 

Thankfully, Jimin’s place wasn’t that far from our dormitory so, the ride there was only 10-ish minutes. Nonetheless, I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. And, as the driver finally pulled up to the apartment complex I practically ran inside. Following the sound of loud music, I made my way through the crowd of people who clearly had a little too much fun, as the alcohol in their system could be detected from the next block. 

“Flip-flops!” Tae exclaimed with a big grin. Stopping in my tracks, my eyes diverted to Jiah, who was standing beside him with absolutely no sign of a hangover. In fact, she looked better than ever in her new mini-dress. 

“What? You lied?” I snap, eyebrows furrowing more and more with each step I take towards them. 

“How else was I supposed to get you to come?” Tae chuckles, trying to rub my head before I push his hand away. 

“Get off me,” my tone is harsh as I lower my piercing gaze, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Oh! Mira, there you are,” I could hear Jimin’s voice getting closer before turning my flushed face. And with that, it felt like time stopped altogether. There was nothing and no one in the room except for him and I. Koo and I. Feeling my gaze soften, I choke up from the rush of emotions in my throat. 

“Hi, I’m Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a warm smile, reaching out his hand as if meeting me for the first time. Before replying, I take a moment to analyze his face. The one I dreamed about every night and the one that caused me so much pain. He looks the same, except, his eyes no longer sparkle like they used to. I guess, we got that in common. 

“Hi …I’m Mira,” I let out a soft smile, before reaching out my own hand. 

“Yah, Kook, you already know her, you guys were best friends,” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, please forgive me. I'm still trying to piece everything back together,” Koo says, covering his mouth before shutting his eyes from embarrassment. 

Feeling my throat tighten, I quickly excuse myself, before rushing out of the packed room towards the nearest fire escape. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but why does it feel like I’m going to pass out? It’s as if all the air was knocked out of my lungs. Feeling lightheaded I hold onto the railing and close my eyes for a moment. I can’t believe it. Koo, I saw you but you didn’t see me. You saw a stranger. And, suddenly, there I was, alone again, realizing that everything I feared had come true.

Regaining my composure, I decide to walk back to the party before my eyes are met with his. 

“Not a party animal, huh?” Jungkook grins, stopping in his tracks as his arm leans against the wall. 

“It’s my day off,” I let out a small chuckle, unable to keep his eye contact. 

“So … we were best friends?” he asks softly, hands fidgeting with the chains on his belt. 

“Yeah …” I nod slightly, nibbling on my lips. 

“It’s funny because I don’t remember anything from last year. I could barely recognize my own dad for a while. Jimin helped me a lot, he basically recalled sparknotes of my past for me,” he laughs. Oh, how I missed his laugh.  

“You really don’t remember anything?” I finally look up, searching his scattering eyes. 

“No, not one bit,” his muffled words are interrupted by the growling sound coming from my stomach, as I let out an awkward smile. 

“Oh, are you hungry?” he grins, bunny teeth on full display, as my gaze softens again. 

“No, no, no, I’m fine. I think I’m gonna head home now,” I shake my hands, zipping my hoodie before attempting to walk past him. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll drive. I’m starving as well,” Jungkook assures, gently pulling onto the fabric as my heart sinks to my feet.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I agreed. I couldn’t say no to Koo. Not, after all the sleepless nights I’ve spent missing his mere presence. And, as we entered the nearest restaurant, everything felt real. He felt real. Even if he couldn’t feel it, my heart was beating for the both of us. For our first hellos, last goodbyes and everything in between. Just for tonight, I wanted to pretend like nothing happened. 

“Oh, look, Mira, they have a special deal on shrimp dumplings, do you like them?” his voice, brings me back to reality as I mute the thoughts running through my head. 

“Yeah, my mom made them for me all the time when I was little,” I smile. 

“Then, I guess it’s your lucky day,” he chuckles with a satisfied grin, before calling one of the waiters. 

“I guess, it is,” I say softly, feeling my throat tighten as I struggle to swallow the lie. Searching his naive eyes my own swell with tears while my body shifts restlessly in the seat. Desperately wanting to cave into the emotions, my mind is haunted by the thoughts of Mrs. Jeon’s letter. And, as I close my eyes for a moment, all I can see are the painful reminders of our enforced distance. Don’t call … Don’t write … Don’t interact. Yet, here we are, here you are, Koo. Live in the flesh, separated by a table and the forgotten story of our past. So close, yet so far that it physically hurts. To him, I’m just another piece of the puzzle that would fill the void in his memories. But, to me, he is the only piece that could make me whole again. 

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Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 4: Strangers With Memories

a/n: more angst but at least they aren't as awkward, however, after this chapter, I fear it's only going to go downhill for my babies :(

The dreadful No Contact Rule. Difficult not to break when the relationship is over and even more so when the relationship comes to a sudden halt but the feelings are still brewing inside. When the distance is forced and fueled by the guilt of losing that person again. However, I would be lying if I said that Jungkook is no longer part of my life. That I have somehow completely barricaded myself from his presence. How could I, when not even a conscious stream of thought can overcome the yearning of a broken heart? One that still longs for his touch, his sweet smile, his laugh. One that has been holding on to the memories of our past despite the lack of recollection in Koo’s eyes. To him, we are simply picking things up from where they were left off. Not a complicated task in nature until you realise that our story left off with his first and last “I love you, Mira”. So, no matter how hard I try to push him away, the heartstrings of my own soul seem to pull us back together. Even if he sees me as just a friend, I am willing to fight for everything we could have been, until one day he finally remembers it all. Remembers me, remembers us.

Unfortunately, with school starting, everyone has been getting back into their routines, leaving little time or opportunity to actually hang out. Despite this, Jungkook has made a special effort to “build back what he can’t remember”. So, seeing him has actually become part of my daily ritual. Whether that be going on a morning jog or grabbing a quick coffee after class. Like the good old days, we are connecting as close friends, since everything began that way. Before anything, Koo was my friend, one who somehow filled the void of my family when we were separated by an ocean. For that, I will forever be grateful to him. 

Today was like any other. Tae and I met our new cohort leader, the head of the ER department in the local children’s hospital, who was this older gentleman who wasted no opportunity to crack one of his dad jokes. He absolutely adored Tae, said that he saw his younger self in him, and unless he was a sleep-deprived, broke college student, I’m not sure what the correlation was. To be honest, Tae hasn’t been having it easy either. His grandma was recently diagnosed with pneumonia, so he spent the entire summer working three jobs to send as much money as he could back home. Being the only man, and thus, the breadwinner in the family after the passing of his father, he constantly tells me about the guilt he endures being far away from his mom, younger sister and grandma. The three women in his life he would give up anything for. And, as I’ve watched him slowly run himself thin, I have grown to be protective of Tae myself. Although he is older, in my eyes he will always be like a little brother to me. One whose shoulders carry the weight of a whole lineage.

Packing up our staff after class, Tae recommended we try the new pastry shop that opened by our dormitory. One that he first mentioned when Jungkook was admitted into the hospital in hopes of cheering my numb self. However, during that period the aching pain in my heart wanted nothing more than to be by Koo’s side. So, seeing that this time Tae was the one in need of support, I made sure to take him up on the offer as we indulged in our daily debrief. At the end of the day, we might not know how to properly give an IV but you best believe that we know how to run our mouths. In the span of half an hour, we managed to cover every possible topic known to men, ranging from the rise in the cost of eggs to the hideous new haircut the grumpy librarian decided to debut today. Our conversation could have gone on for hours until it was abruptly interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. 

Koo: Will 20 minutes be enough for you to get ready?

Mira: Depends … where are you taking me? 

Koo: It’s a surprise, just wear something comfy ;)

“Who got you smiling like that?” Tae chuckles teasingly, seeing that his words have lost my attention.  

“Oh nothing, I’m sorry, it’s just Jungkook,” I say, nibbling on my lips to suppress the urge to keep smiling. 

“What did he say?” he leans forward taking a sip of his Americano. 

“I think he wants to go somewhere?” my words drag on as he searches my scattering eyes. 

“Now?” 

“Well, no you’re right, I’m just gonna tell him that I’m busy,” I try to comfort Tae with a smile, sensing the guilt of leaving him alone.

“No, I mean, don’t you want to freshen up? How much time do you have?” he mumbles, gaze softening at my flustered state. 

“Oh, are you sure? I hate to pause our little hangout,” 

“There’s always tomorrow,” Tae assures with a boxy smile. 

“Okay, I’ll see you at breakfast, alright?” I say, packing up my stuff before we wave each other goodbye.

Thank God, the pastry shop was a short walk away from the dormitory as I suddenly realised how valid Tae’s suggestion of a shower was. Let’s just say that today’s clinical was one for the books. Not only did I spill a whole IV bag on my scrubs but I’m pretty sure that there are still some pieces of dried cream in my hair as one of the older patients refused to cooperate. So, as I finally managed to open the front door, I headed straight into the shower, washing myself free of the chaotic aftermath. 

Debating between a woven sweater and a cashmere pullover I settled on the one Koo loved the most. “Peaches, you’re so soft,” he used to say, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands caressed the delicate cashmere. I wore it on our last date before the incident, the one we spent on Oceana Beach talking about the future, our future. Miraculously, after all this time, it still had his scent, the sweet vanilla musk lingered like the memories of our past. I remember crying sleepless nights, holding the cashmere close to my heart as if it were the only thing left of Jungkook. With my eyes closed, I could almost feel his warm embrace. 

Beep Beep 

My reminiscing, however, was interrupted by Jungkook’s arrival. Quickly touching up my makeup, I grab my purse and phone before locking the door behind me. Maybe it’s from the actual physical rush or the fact that I get to see him again, but my heart sure is beating hard. I could practically feel it in my throat. And, the appearance of his bunny smile as our eyes finally met certainly did not help it either. 

“Sorry to make you wait,” I say out of breath, tucking some stray pieces of hair behind my ear. 

“No worries, I just came,” Koo assures softly, leaning back on his car. 

“So, where is this mystery destination?” I grin teasingly, folding my arms in front of my chest. 

“Surprise, remember? Ladies first,” he grins back, opening the passenger door, before helping me buckle up. And, just like that, my heartbeat went through the roof again. 

Driving down the bridge, we were in awe of the beautiful sunset that covered the sky in warm tones. Blasting our favourite song, Jungkook rolled down all the windows before pausing his phone just in time for the high note. And, as silence filled the car I could feel the flush rise up my cheeks from the sheer embarrassment that was my singing. It wasn’t just a voice crack, it was the complete demolishment of my dignity. 

“Yah, how could you betray me like that?” I scoff in disbelief, rolling the windows back up to shield myself from the passing cars. 

“I couldn’t help it, you looked so concentrated,” Jungkook chuckles, mimicking my singing face. 

“Okay, relax, eyes on the road bunny boy,” I smirk, turning the music back on.

“We’re here,” he says, turning into the parking lot. Looking around, chills run down my spine as I realise where we are. The Oceana Beach. This means that while I was fully immersed in our karaoke session, Jungkook unknowingly drove past the exact spot where he lost consciousness on that cold, winter night. All this time, I’ve been trying to avoid this place in hopes of erasing the image of Koo’s frail body lying on the side of the road. Now, I have to act like none of that happened, since he doesn’t remember any of it. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice pulls me out of the spiral, as my chest heaves up. Feeling his hand on mine, my body almost jolts from his touch, unable to hide the fear rushing through my veins. It all felt so surreal, to be looking at him alive in flesh but knowing that the Jungkook I once knew was no longer there. 

“Yeah, I … I just remembered something,” I lie with a nervous chuckle, unbuckling myself. Helping me out of the car, Jungkook looks concerned, eyes searching mine. 

“You sure, you’re alright? I can drive back jus…” 

“No, no don’t be ridiculous. I swear I’m all good,” I interrupt his sentence with a reassuring smile. Reaching for my hands again, only this time with slight hesitation, his worried eyes meet mine as his thumb caresses the back of my palms. 

“Mira, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” his words are layered with a tone of fear, uneasiness, and genuine worry. But, there’s a short period of silence, as my mind filters through possible replies. 

“Of course,” I manage a small chuckle, swallowing down the lie. With a nod of acceptance and a soft sigh, he intertwined his fingers with mine, taking the bags from his trunk before walking us toward a small spot by a campfire. Setting everything up, I was commanded to just relax, covered under a woven blanket.

“I used to love making smores when I was little,” Jungkook smiles, handing me a bag of marshmallows, before covering himself under the same blanket. Jimin was right, he could still remember the earlier years of his life, but nothing of the recent events. 

“Can’t relate, I somehow always burned mine,” I frown as he can’t help but laugh, scrunching his nose and letting that bunny smile come on full display.   

“Hey, don’t laugh,” 

“I’m sorry, but how does one mess this up?” he leans closer, nudging my shoulder before looking back at the sparks. If only time could stop and we could stay this way forever. If only he could feel the way my heart ached at that moment. 

“So, Mira, do you have a boyfriend?” his sudden question brought me back again, as my eyebrows visibly furrowed from the bluntness of his curiosity. 

“Why? Are you trying to pitch an offer?” I chuckle, leaning closer to the fire to warm my hands, before looking back at his teasing grin. 

“Just trying to figure you out,” he replies softly, eyes searching mine. 

“I used to,” 

“Oh, yeah? What happened? 

“He moved away. Long distance didn’t work out,” I reply slowly, allowing the fake story to play out without succumbing to the tears. 

“That sucks, you guys don’t keep in touch at all?” Jungkook’s curiosity is innocent in nature but naive to our past. I can’t even get mad at him for digging deeper, even if it hurts.  

“I’m not sure he remembers me anymore,” I sigh, replying almost defeated. 

“That’s a lie. Who could forget you?” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, blind to the irony of it all. 

“Yeah …” a little chuckle escapes me as well, as my eyes dissociate into the distance. “I'm pretty unforgettable, aren't I?” 

“Pretty and unforgettable,” Jungkook replies with a quick wink, covering my shivering body with his share of the blanket before taking a bite of my half-burned marshmallow.

--

Replaying our last conversation in my head, I felt bad for snapping at Jiah at the mall. It was totally uncalled for and simply a projection of the thoughts that haunted my mind. Not a fibre of my being meant it as we rarely ever fought or even came to a slight disagreement with each other. To be quite frank, during that time it seemed like every interaction I had was like walking on a minefield. With one wrong move, I was destined to blow up and take everyone else down with me.  

Not being able to talk to her freely pained me, as I grew to miss my best friend with each passing day. And if one thing was for sure, then it was that Jiah deserved an apology as she fell victim to my self-destruction. So, after a few hours of crafting a well-developed apology, I made my way to her apartment, which was literally a level below mine. Nonetheless, the walk there seemed never-ending, most likely due to the sheer panic I was experiencing. It wasn’t fueled by the fear of her reaction but the shame I felt from how I treated Jiah. However, none of it mattered anymore, as I stood in front of her door, hand ready to place a few knocks. That is until it suddenly swings open and our eyes finally meet again. 

“Jiah,” I mumble before she pulls me into a tight hug as tears stream down both of our faces. No words needed to be said. Everything was understood through the emotions we were experiencing. Melting deeper into her embrace, my face dug deeper into her hair as the sweet smell of coconut filled my senses, reminding my body of her aura. I missed her so much that I could physically feel the void in my heartache as my teary eyes searched her sad gaze. 

“Jiah, I’m so sorry,” I manage to let out as she gently wipes the tears off of my face. Holding onto her hand, I keep it close to my chest as my heart beats faster. 

“It’s okay, love. I’ve missed you so much,” she says softly, tucking a few pieces of stray hair behind my ear. And, just like that, we were back in each other’s embrace, making up for the lost time we were apart. Catching up, we spent the whole afternoon discussing everything that happened since our falling out. She showed me the emerald jewellery set Jimin gifted her for their 1 year anniversary and the pictures they took following their celebration. They looked so happy that I couldn’t stop smiling. If they ever break up then I’ll know that love isn’t real, because in my eyes they were destined for each other. No one understands Jiah better than Jimin and no one cares so deeply for Jimin more than Jiah. Simply put, they’re soul mates. 

Feeling lightheaded from all the tears we’ve cried, I suggested we go out to grab some late lunch, or early dinner before going on a walk around campus. Jiah was quick to agree as she changed into some jeans and a hoodie before grabbing her purse and keys. Stopping by my dorm, I quickly touched up my makeup in hopes of not scaring innocent civilians from the aftermath of my mental breakdown. And, as we rode the elevator down to the main lobby, Jiah and I were inseparable once again. That is until my eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook standing by his car, shuffling in place to keep himself warm.  

“Oh? Jungkook? What’s wrong?” I stutter, worried eyes searching his. 

“Sorry Jiah, but could I steal her from you?” he asks softly, as Jiah's face turns to mine. Hiding the way her chin was trembling, she didn't know how to reply before taking a deep breath. 

“Call me when you get back?” she nods, separating her hand from mine as I pull her into a hug.  

“I’ll bring you some pastry from the new shop Tae recommended,” I say with a reassuring smile before waving her goodbye. Making sure she got in safely, my eyes turned back to look at Jungkook’s bunny smile. 

“How did you know I was here?” I ask with a skeptical tone, slowly making my way towards the car. 

“You really don’t think I pay attention, huh?” he says teasingly before opening the passenger door. 

“You mean to tell me that you’ve memorized my schedule?” I scoff, looking up at his softened gaze. 

“Pretty much,” he replies with a grin, leaning onto the door frame before caressing my cheek with the back of his palm. 

“Hey, were you crying?” Jungkook asks, concerned, as I cover my red cheeks with my hair. Way to not be obvious, Mira! I guess, my attempt to hide the fact that I’ve been sobbing for hours failed miserably since he managed to notice it after one glance. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing. I promise,” I shake my head with a soft smile before looking back up at his worried eyes. 

“Mira, you know you can always talk to me, right?” his words are followed by a deep sigh as he crouched down before my still form. 

“Of course, I know that, Koo,” I manage to let out a giggle, patting his head in hopes of making him feel at least somewhat at ease. In all honesty, however, I knew that he wasn’t fully convinced, but I also didn’t necessarily hate that. Because a small part of me hoped that maybe, his curiosity would somehow help him regain the memories he once lost.

“Anyways, where are you taking me this time?” I try to change the subject, as his eyes look back at mine. 

“I need your help,” he replies, buckling my seat belt before heading to the driver’s side. 

“May I know with what?” 

“A song. A love song,” his voice is abrupt, but still layered with tease. 

“I beg your pardon, a love song? Jungkook If you think I’m going to sedate you with some vocals then you are greatly mistaken,” I scoff with my arms folded in front of my burning chest. A love song? As if seeing him again isn’t hard enough. Now, he is giving me yet another reason to cry at night. 

“Shhhh, I’ll explain everything when we get there, just sit back and relax,” he assures me with a sly wink. 

“Mmhhm,” I nod, loosening up the seatbelt before crossing my arms over my chest. Navigating through all the turns, my mind is trying to piece together our destination, until we finally stop at a brick building near the campus gymnasium. 

“Koo, where are we?” I ask cautiously, scanning the premises as he opens the passenger door. 

“It’s a studio my buddy owns. Don’t worry the inside looks more welcoming than the outside,” Jungkook grins, locking the car as we make our way up the stairs.

“Be careful here, they’re still under construction,” he points to a hole in the wooden floor, grabbing my hand as I tip-toe behind him.

“Right, and this buddy of yours, you know how?” 

“He used to produce for the band the guys and I were in. The Bulletproof Boys,” he replies proudly until I burst into a cackle, which promptly faded the smile on his face. I couldn’t help it, I was still not over the first time he mentioned the infamous band name. The Bulletproof Boys. Peak comedy if you ask me. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you,” I try to regain my composure looking at his pouty lips. 

“I’m not laughing,”

“Okay, then I’m laughing at you,” I tease again, poking his side as he opens the door to what seemed like a small recording studio.  

“Hey, guys! Come on in,” a man’s voice welcomes us into the dimly lit room. 

“Hi hyung, thank you again,” Jungkook shakes his hand, before looking back at my flustered face. I’m usually not as awkward but something about being in a room with a stranger, Jungkook, and a hypothetical love song just did not sit well with me. 

“This is Mira, she’s going to be our female lead,” Jungkook smiles, giving me a sly wink. A lead? I really do hope he is kidding. Is today April Fool's or something? Where are the cameras? 

“Sounds good to me, who wants to go first?” the man asks the both of us, as I try my best to avoid his eye contact. Fiddling with my thumbs, Jungkook could sense that I was becoming more and more uncomfortable. So, he suggested that we go in together since it is my first time doing something like this after all. 

“Just follow me okay?” he says softly, helping me put on the headphones before handing me the lyric sheet.

“Alright, let’s just see how the melody plays out, okay? Jungkook, if you want to jump in with your vocals now, by all means. But, Mira, you can just use this take as practice. I want you to get comfortable with the lyrics,” the producer explains, giving me a thumbs up as I nod okay. 

Following Koo’s lead I tried to mumble the words under my breath, getting the feel of the song. And, to my and probably everyone’s surprise, everything was going somewhat okay? We were able to finish recording the intro in under an hour and have just gotten to the pre-chorus. After some practice, I was beginning to feel capable of managing this project, until my ears were pierced with a sudden “I love you,” projecting from Jungkook’s microphone. 

“Oh?” I let out a loud gasp, covering my mouth as my eyes shot up at his form across the booth. Searching my flushed face, he grins, pointing to the lyric sheet on my stand. Furrowing my eyebrows I begin scanning the lines with my finger, realising that he was singing one of the adlibs. However, what came after almost made me sick. Suddenly, it all felt a bit too real. Shutting my eyes, I tried to regain my composure, and within a second, I was back in that hospital room, sitting across from Koo’s frail body as his thumb caressed my palms. 

“I love you, Mira. I’ve been loving you this whole time,” his sweet words played in my head, as tears rolled down my face. Feeling the knot in my throat, I was practically screaming, but nothing came out. I couldn't do it, not then and not now. I couldn’t say the words he desperately deserved to hear. And just like that, I was back in the booth, only this time, my heaving body was plopped on the floor surrounded by both Jungkook and his producer. But, before they could ask me anything, I rushed out of the room, virtually sprinting towards the nearest washroom, where I hoped to lock myself from the outside world. Closing my eyes, all I could see were the replays of that scene before they were suddenly interrupted by the knocking on the stall door.

“Mira! Mira, open up, it’s me,” Jungkook’s voice is heavy, almost breathless. 

“Are you in the women’s washroom?” I yelp in disbelief, wiping the tears off of my face. 

“There’s no one here, come out, please,” he pleads softly, moving back as I slowly open the door. Lowering my gaze, I fold my arms over my chest before leaning back on the stall as if I didn’t just pass out in front of him. Taking a deep breath, I tried to explain myself before feeling his arms wrap around my shoulders as our bodies melted into a tight hug. Oh, Koo, if only you knew how much I missed your warm embrace. 

“Mira, please tell me what’s wrong,” Jungkook whispers, burying his face in the curve of my neck, as I feel his breath on my skin. 

“Koo, I told you, I’m fine,” I managed to lie, placing my hands on his shoulders to create at least some distance. 

“Fine? You dropped to the floor and were unresponsive,” he shouts, furrowing his eyebrows from frustration as his hands grab mine. 

“I … I think my period is coming soon. The days before are always killer,” I explain, trying to convince the both of us, before feeling his worried gaze search my scattering eyes. 

“Your period?” he confirms. 

“Mmhm,” I give him a few nods, feeling his grip on my hands slowly loosen. Tucking the stray hair behind my ear, Jungkook leans closer, tracing the trail of dried tears on my face before letting out a soft sigh. 

“Okay, I believe you. I’ll always believe you, Mira,”

Please, don't.

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This hurt me.

Xiao Duo the drama queen

Unchained Love 浮图缘 | episode 23

The only thing I don't like is that ring on the hand which should be holding mine

Somewhere deep inside You must know I miss you But what can I say Rules must be obeyed

ABBA - The Winner Takes It All

A Dark Academia AU moodboard:

A forbidden love/romance between a Cambridge English Literature student and an Oxford History student.

Gwilym lee is the English Major with French as a minor and Y/N is a History major with Latin as a minor.

Think I'm gonna write a fic based on this moodboard. We shall see!

Dark Academia au! Moodboards:

Cambridge English literature student! Gwilym Lee and Oxford History student! Y/N.

A forbidden love/romance fic shall be with you in the near future, I hope!

Sweet Like Poison

They shouldn’t be doing this.

He should go.

She wasn’t good for him.

This shouldn’t be happening.

And yet, why did he want to stay so badly?

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Tim whispers, breaking away from the kiss.

“We shouldn’t.” She agrees.

“I should go,” Tim murmured, pressing his forehead against her- Steph’s head.

“You should,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around him.

They pause before Tim says a big ‘fuck you’ to reason and leans back down, connecting their lips.

“The battle has already been lost,” he mutters, catching her lower lip and soaking in the laughter that comes out.

Maybe Batman wouldn’t approve. Maybe she was one of the most notorious villains. Maybe he was one of the most notorious heroes. Maybe he should be trying to turn her in to the police.

Batman would’ve. But he’s not Batman.

Tim couldn’t bring himself to care at treasured moments like this, when there was no one else but the two of them.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says as he caresses the curve of her hip, feeling the fine muscle underneath the skin.

People look at her with fear, horror at seeing one of the most dangerous assassins, who smiles and laughs as she slits someone’s throat.

People look at him with hope and reverence, adoration shining through as he stops plot after plot, villain after villain.

Yet he looks at her and can only see Steph.

“I wish this moment would never end, I wish we could stay like this forever,” she whispers, pressing promises into his neck.

Tim can only see the way her hair forms a halo around her when she falls on the bed. Tim can only see the way her eyes shine when she laughs. Tim can only see the way she smiles at him, sending tingles throughout his body.

“You’re thinking too much, boy wonder,” She murmurs, running her hands through his hair.

“Then give me something else to think of,” he replies, watching her blue eyes flash at the challenge.

Tim can only hear the way she had whispered his name in their times alone. Tim can only hear the way she had been apologizing for hours after accidentally hitting him with a brick. Tim can only hear the way her voice curves and wraps around him when he wakes up, shaking from the terrors conjured by his mind.

“I love you,” she says, pressing them together, eyes reflecting the statement.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

His heart repeats those words until they’re engraved onto him.

“I love you too.”

Day was Timothy Wayne and Stephanie Brown’s. Night was Red Robin and Spoiler’s.

Dawn was Tim and Steph’s.

who up wantin to roleplay two christian boys in secret gay love

"I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell ;I would know him blind ,by the way his breath came and his feel struck the earth,I would know him in death, at the end of the world "

-that's what his dead lover Said

Cuddle, an intense cuddle scene in the dark grotesque hallway filled with soft sobs, until its the villain flinching from the same dull fuzzy ache in very core of their heart, their skin feeling tingles against the warm of the cozy couch and flurry blanket wrapped around them with the hero sound and softy breathing in their arms. Their small hands cluched on the material of the loose shirt in their smol fist.

Now this is so wrong because they were just suppose to return the favour in time when they need. They almost lost the hope with a heavy longing heart to be ever to see hero again, but here they are giving in with their plead to, "...just hold me for once...hold me tight..." with their heart crumbling like cookie in their pious hand.

Actual ask:I always write promts of unfolding scene, lol. Can u do a quick monologue from villain while cuddles.

I craved reading the energy ur dailogue fumes with. Finally finding ur a/c here was like discovering a new nirvana. Congratulations on having just another supporter *flashing u my best giddy smiles* lol

The hero was sound asleep in their lap, and the villain was panicking, just a little. Not panicking exactly—their schedule wasn’t exactly conducive to panic attacks—but they were….frazzled. Yes, that was a good word for it.

They shifted slightly and the hero mumbled their displeasure. The villain froze, because what were they supposed to—they carded their hand through the hero’s hair as soothingly as they could. The hero quieted, hand clutching into the villain’s shirt.

The villain sighed with relief.

The hero looked exhausted. The kind of exhausted you find in hospital rooms and gas stations at 2am. Maybe that was why, when the hero had sobbed, “Can you just—hold me, for a second, I just—“ the villain had let the hero collapse into their arms.

The villain, selfishly, was glad they were asleep.

The hero needed the rest, sure, but mostly the villain had just wanted the hero to stop crying. They didn’t know how to handle that. They weren’t a gentle person, someone who knew the correct words at the correct moments; but the hero was. And the hero deserved the same kind of comfort in return, so the last time this had happened, the villain had tried their best.

The last time, the hero, crying and bloody and entirely a mess, looked at them, said their name in a collapsed hallway, and the villain had—not panicked, because they didn’t do that—become increasingly frazzled.

And then the hero had been in their arms, and they were sitting on the ground, because the villain had hugged them.

The villain was an idiot.

They swore it wouldn’t happen again, because it couldn’t. The hero could never be their friend, and the villain could never be theirs.

It happened again.

It was happening now.

And the villain, secretly, was glad the hero was asleep, because they just wanted this moment, this forbidden thing, to last. Because if the hero saw the villain’s face right now, the hero would know that the villain cared.

The villain couldn’t care. They weren’t allowed to.

But desperately, they did.

For now, they simply brushed the hero’s hair back. Held them tighter, resting their chin on the top of the hero’s head. They let themself have this stolen, forbidden, soft thing.

Because they knew, when the hero woke up, it would be gone.

So, they listened to the hero’s breathing, and selfishly, hopelessly, let themselves care.