Supervillains And Unicorn Bags ; J.wy

fights with him. includes xiao, albedo, kazuha. gn!reader. modern au!. warnings: arguments, err mild angst?. wc: 1,927. semi proof-read.

xiao — [✧]

fights with xiao are uncommon, not rare. contrary to belief, xiao is not the vocal type about his feelings, whether it be of distaste or love.

fighting with xiao is like standing on a tight rope hundreds of meters from the ocean and waiting to fall into the bottomless pits of water just to drown. he is careful around you but you are careful around him.

xiao has never been communicative, choosing to stay silent and never being confrontational. one would say he avoids conflict, choosing to stay in the dark and letting the issue resolve itself—afterwards, he would come out of his shell and act as if it never happened.

and you wonder, has xiao always been this way? or did you make him this way?

"what was that?" are the first words you say after he had pushed you away when he came home, telling you that he was tired and wanted to rest.

you would have let him, really, you knew how stress would wrap itself around xiao's neck. but he has been this way for a week and you're growing tired of trying to cheer him up.

"it's nothing, i'm sorry," he says, a tinge of annoyance evident in his voice as he stands before you. he feels apologetic when he sees the way hurt flashes in your eyes—knows that it will always be because of him and his actions.

"xiao, you've been avoiding me all week, what's wrong?" you question him, hands already reaching up to cup his cheeks. he deflects your actions, stepping backwards as he looks at you with a slight scowl.

"do you always have to be this way?" he snides, crossing his arms as he watches the way your brows knit in hurt, in confusion. "i've just been busy, i'm sorry if i forgot, happy?"

pursing your lips, the only thing you could do is to look directly into xiao. as you stand across from him, thinking if you should leave him be or stand your ground, you don't miss the way annoyance fuels in his eyes.

stand your ground and you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. leave and you would do the same. fighting with xiao has always been painful because you never know what to do, never know if you should chase after him or continue to leave him alone.

"it was still a date, xiao!" you protest, taking a step forward to show that even in the most heated moments between you two, you still care. and you will always care.

"i know," he sighs, "i know and it's my fault, alright? i'm just busy with everything." and it was true, dozens of papers laid strewn on his study table, waiting to be finished; however, it was also true that he had forgotten.

"i can't turn back time, you know that," xiao seethes. he wonders what you want him to do—he was supposed to make it up to you after a week, promising that he'd finish everything before you. "just let it go, please."

you wonder if you really did matter to him anymore. "fine, then let me go too," you're gathering the rest of your things on the counter, not daring to look back at whatever expression was on xiao's face—because you knew, if you saw how nonchalant he looked, you'd be heartbroken all over.

and he's holding your wrist, tugging you towards him; you avoid his gaze, missing the way his eyes flicker from your face to the door. xiao wouldn't allow himself to let you walk out the door without his apology.

"you can leave... if you want," he mutters, "i'm sorry. i know, i was in the wrong. i didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"do you even still care? about me? about us?" it's all you can ask, hoping that he says no. hoping that he says no so you can leave with no regrets because god if he says yes then you will leave with a heavy heart.

xiao tightens his grip on your wrist, nodding as fast as he can, swallowing the lump in his throat as he answers, "of course i do."

even when he says yes, you still tug your wrist from his grasp, gazing at him for a moment—and xiao swears his heart breaks—before you back away from him to leave.

albedo —[✧]

fights with him are rare. the percentage of an argument with him is around 4.5%, but still, a little number always has a chance. rare yet not impossible.

and should you ever fight with him, albedo is quiet and composed. the high and mighty albedo shows not a speck of emotion on his face as he works through his table, gathering whatever is left of the experiment he was working on—at least what he could save from it.

albedo has always been poised, he is self-assured and organised, never making a mistake—sometimes he wonders if he was wrong about you. he is poised and you have always hated it about him.

the nonchalant look on his face makes your insides turmoil; will it always be like this? albedo rarely gets furious, instead understands the situation and tries to make do of what he can. at least what he does with his experiments.

“if you’re just going to stand there and do nothing, i suggest you take your leave,” albedo murmurs from his spot, fingers picking up pieces of glass, gingerly setting them on a tray.

cold—his voice is cold. albedo does not spare you a glance at all, instead, he brushes over his table and inspects every inch as if it was hurt. were you not hurt as well? the redness on your fingers was evident, and tips were scratched from the failed experiment; however, past that, your chest tightens as you try to speak.

for once, you wonder, did it matter to him more that his experiment had failed? not that you had gotten hurt in the process of ‘helping’ him?

“and you’re just going to ignore me?” you jab at him. you’re trying to look through his words, the only sixteen words he had spoken after the failure of an experiment, trying to find a sign that he wants you to say. something, anything.

you don’t find one hint at all, and you think twice if you should do as he says. fights with albedo are rare and you know it will pass just like each one has—did it all just pass? no, will he let this one pass

since you have done so many mistakes that he cannot overlook anymore, will this be the time he abandons you once and for all? 

“i should have thought before i let you join me in any of my research,” albedo spits out. “had i known you would have been nothing but a burden i wouldn’t have let you join me with your idiocy.”

 and so, everything that you had built up between you two crashes. he didn’t care like you thought—not when he’s staring at you like you’re the biggest irritant in the world that he has to face the moment he wakes up in the morning,

but it also sinks inside albedo that his words were uncalled for.

“sorry,” albedo repeats, again and again, his body already moving towards you and hands reaching out to touch you. like a broken record, each sorry is faster than the last; hoping that it would make the tears that wanted release to stay in your eyes.

because god, albedo hates it when you cry, hates it more when it’s because of him. instead, you push him away, looking at him with the most hurt of eyes that he’s ever seen in his life. albedo has chosen his stand and it will not change your decision.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers.

for once, albedo prays to the gods, watching as you leave him all alone in his study—just like he has always been. alone and in the dark all over again.

kazuha — [✧]

some would say fights with kazuha are impossible. he is polite and well-spoken, always knowing what words to say to comfort someone in need, and always a firm believer that conflict can be resolved with communication.

you, for one, believed otherwise. communication was not something you dealt with, in fact, you hated having to deal with confrontation more than anything. kazuha was the one who initiated peace at most times, sometimes you when you know you are in the wrong.

as someone who holds his relationships in very high regard, kazuha is gentle with you and his words whenever you argue. as someone he is fond of, kazuha holds you dear to his heart.

so imagine his surprise when you two get home from a small gathering, a frown on your face as you set down most of your things and tell him you don't like one of his friends.

"i don't like the way he talks to you," is what you tell him, and kazuha stares at you, pondering on what to say.

"i admit he's rather blunt," he discloses. never knowing your reasons was difficult and kazuha feels that he may have to pry it out of you.

"no, he's out of the line. i don't like him," you snap, "he was being pissy the whole night—and don't you notice the way he talks to you?"

while kazuha holds you in high regard, he does the same with his friends. while he cannot understand where you are coming from, kazuha believes you may have seen his friend from a different perspective.

"he talks like that with everyone," he answers, this time with a tinge of annoyance. you've met that certain friend three times, and kazuha has known him for two years, it's impossible for you to see right through him immediately.

you turn to look up at him, glaring slightly, "kazuha, you know, sometimes you're being too nice that you can't even see that people are using you! i'm just telling you the truth about him!"

"and i told you he's not like you think he is!" he raises his voice slightly. he watches as you turn away from him, crossing your arms as you click your tongue in annoyance.

"god, kazuha, can't you see that some people are just not as nice as you?" you scoff, "i understand that you're-"

"you don't understand," he speaks up. "you never did and you still don't. they're my friends and you're telling me he speaks to me out of line? i would know, i'm his friend!"

"and i'm telling you that he was being a dick to you and you can't notice it!" you snap, tears springing to your eyes as you feel your chest tighten.

fighting with kazuha was always something you hated because for once, you don't know how to answer him. and as you stand before him, trying to make sense of what you felt, nothing right wants to come out.

"because you're being crazy about it!" kazuha retorts, crossing his arms before he lets out a sigh. "let's...let's talk it over, i don't want to argue with you over this."

as you hold back your tears, kazuha reaches out to wrap you in his arms, hand on the back of your head.

kazuha supposes that maybe this time, he should listen to you. he just hopes that you forgive him—because you're pushing him away in tears.

NOTES ok so i said i wanted more fluff on my blog buttttt yayy i didn't think this one was too angsty so :p this one was rotting in my drafts, i decided to post this just before i update tomorrow hehe

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OH MY LORDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

16 | slowly rest your head on my shoulder. (1k words)

you sigh and smile in content. the last time you got to loosen up like this was when you got through your first year of college. it's been months since then and you find yourself here right now, enjoying with friends, your worries at the very back of your mind.

it's already past midnight, three in the morning. most of your companions scattered around the almost empty bar, passed out either on the floor or on one of the couches. but you see venti, kaeya, kazuha, and hu tao on one of the bar tables, still taking shots together. laughing and slurring at whatever they're talking about. you giggle slightly at them.

goodness, they have monster livers.

your mind is a little hazy but you're sober enough to be aware of your surroundings and remember everything that happened tonight. you didn't drink alcohol as much as the others did. you probably only had roughly a bottle of liquor. you can handle your alcohol well, but you chose to tone down your intake this time. considering that there are other people accompanying your friend group today, you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of them.

you stand up from where you're sitting and decide to head outside the bar, wanting to get some fresh air.

in the dim staircase, you see the silhouette of someone at the end, sitting on the curb of the street. (the bar is underground and the entrance is a staircase, if you didn't get the picture) you jog your way up the stairs and stop just behind the person.

you realize that it's scaramouche.

you didn't want to admit it, but you secretly kept looking for him inside the bar when he disappeared somewhere. not only was he late but he only stayed with the group for an hour or two before disappearing by himself. he didn't even interact with his friends much, just quietly drinking in the corner of the bar. when you realized that he was nowhere in sight, you just assumed that he went home by himself.

so this is where he went.

you study him. he's facing the quiet street, holding a shot glass and a bottle beside him.

you make your presence known by coughing slightly. "is this how antisocials hang out when they go to a bar with their friends?”

he turns his head to look at you. he let's out a breath, almost like a laugh, and smirks lazily. "what, missed me already?"

"you wish. i just came out for fresh air." you make a move to sit down beside him on the curb, the bottle of liquor between the two of you.

"you're kind of a moron. but i know you can get there."

you suddenly remember his words earlier today. after the debate, you've been thinking about your view of him ever since he said those words of comfort to you. if it were any other person who said them, you would've laughed at their bad effort of trying to be supportive.

but those words came from him. which made them completely different and special. knowing him, it was the best consolation he could give to someone and, most especially, to you.

so you begin to see him in a new light. perhaps he's not as bad of a person as you thought. perhaps he doesn't actually think you're below him. you think that maybe his way of friendship is through offending people but with no actual malice. or perhaps he just doesn't know how to approach people normally.

but all of those are mere speculation in your perspective. you realize that you can't get to know him properly if you keep pushing your petty grudge on him.

moments pass with just the two of you sitting there saying nothing.

"we did good." you slur slightly, the tiredness that your body felt is now only settling. "i wonder why we didn't get partnered for debates at all back in highschool. not that i wanted to, though."

he stares at you for a second before explaining, "i organized the debates in a way for us to always be on separate teams. being pres had its perks."

you notice that he didn't slur his words at all. how many bottles did he have? you wonder.

"are you not drunk at all?" you ask.

"i can hold my liquor." much to xiao's disappointment "what? thought you could catch me slipping?"

"kind of."

"never." he laughs slightly.

although he did say that, it's quite obvious that he's out of it to some extent. he's snarky, but his remarks are more lighthearted than usual. or maybe he's just too tired to start his usual arguments with you. who knows.

he grabs the bottle between the two of you, uncapping it to refill his glass.

he's so passive right now that you find it weird.

once he's done filling his shot glass, he hands you the bottle that still has one shot worth of liquor in it. "you can finish it. i've had enough."

you accept it, "you sure you didn't drink from this bottle?"

he looks at you boredly. "why do you think i have a glass with me?"

"just making sure." you shrug and down what's left of the bottle in one go. scaramouche follows you and takes his shot.

you cough at the bitter taste, squinting slightly as you take in the alcohol. you place the bottle back down beside you. you sniff and wipe your face with your sleeve.

you sigh heavily and rest your head on your palm. you feel your muscles relax and your eyes start to droop out of exhaustion. your head swaying slightly, trying to keep it upright.

you take a sleepy glance at scaramouche only to find him already staring at you.

"you look ugly." he says.

"and you have a bowlcut..." you mumble back.

you finally let yourself succumb to sleep. so out of it that you don't feel his hand slowly guiding your head to his shoulder.

you two sit there, side by side, with you dozing off. silence engulfing you both and street lights illuminating your features.

a peaceful and intimate moment with only the moon as your witness.

and as you continue to drift in your dreamland, passed out and unaware of your surroundings, you don't hear the quiet mutter under his breath that's forever lost to the soft breeze of the cold morning.

"you did good today. i'm proud of you."

raised the bar !

masterlist / prev - next

synopsis yn thought she finally escaped the perpetual doom of constantly placing 2nd after she graduated high school. but alas! the leaderboard has her name printed under another’s! a name she thought she’d never get to see again. better luck next time, i guess.

a/n: just some of their instagram story highlights! because is it really a social media au if there aren't irl ulzzang photos 😭

anw that's a wrap for the act one of this smau!! the next updates will continue on act two which will focus more on yn and scara's development and will reveal more about their struggles and stories since act one focused more on introducing the characters and their dynamics.

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Attachment

AKA single dad susbedo that never even lasted a week

— Love Rivalry (kaveh x reader)

PAIRING kaveh x gn!reader (ft. alhaitham)

GENRE social media au, college au

SYNOPSIS You’ve been rejected by your academic rival, alhaitham, without even confessing or having feelings for him. You decided to go to a party to fix your damaged ego, so why are you suddenly making out with his roommate?

TAGS attempt in comedy, fluff, angst, drama, jealousy, misunderstandings, fast burn ish, implied sexual content (no smut)

WARNINGS might be ooc, written before kaveh’s official release, unrealistic depiction of college, cw images of cats, alcohol, kys/kms jokes

STATUS ongoing! (11/16/22)

main m.list

profiles: (reader’s) peak mental illness | (kaveh’s) most wanted

00. prologue (🌻)

ACT I — delusional

01. confession

02. brutal

03: rumors

04. beer

05. rejection

06. one word

07. stream

08. cheating lover

09. real talk

10. plan

ACT II — scandal

11. lost (🌻)

12. scandal (🌻)

13. operation kidnap and runaway

14. stage 1 (🌻)

15. uh oh

16. gamble (🌻)

17. you won

18. balcony (🌻)

19. number

20. RIB

— bonus. redacted

ACT III — presentation

21. D-day

22. malewife

23. nike

24. run away with me? (🌻)

25. kdrama

26. speed run

27. stood me up (🌻)

28. mistake (🌻)

29. "damsel in distress"

30. thank you

— bonus. roommate (🌻)

ACT IV — disaster

31. he's back

32. new member

33.  bromance (lets make out platonically)

34. make it up to him

35. snitch ass childe

36. i gotchu

37. green looks better on you (🌻)

38. is it alright if i continue this?

39. scara vs ayato

40. tba

— bonus. tba

ACT V — can i call you mine?

— to be added

note: im back with smau cause writing sucks

taglist closed!

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Little Brother ⊱⊰ Kazuha

A/N: This isn't the sequel for Vigil, but a series of scenarios that I couldn't add to the ficlet since it was getting too long- ehe

➸ Vigil (Ficlet) Honor (Sequel)

✤ she/her

≿————-　★　————-≾

The most adorable little brother ever! His cheeks are round and chubby—and they're always flushed pink!

Totally not because you keep pinching them until he cries- no, totally not, mm-mm.

His childhood days aren't complete until he says 'nee-san' at least once. The poor child is getting bullied by Tomo a lot too, so who does he come running to for help!?

"Onee-chan! Tomo- T-Tomo- waaAAAH! NEE-SANNN!"

Goodness, growing up flipped a switch in his personality but that's a talk for later

If you aren't holding his hand as you two walk around the Kaedehara Estate, he's in your arms like a literal bb

If he's not in your arms then he is sitting on your shoulders, giddily exclaiming that he is as tall as you are [even if he'll eventually grow to be taller-]

Kazuha clings to you. Nee-san must always be in his sight or else he'll either be (っ- ‸ – ς) or (ಠ╭╮ಠ)

Yeah, he's definitely more (ಠ╭╮ಠ)

"Nee-chan, stop hiding from me!"

Will lowkey get frustrated about it even if he's the one who wanted to play hide and seek lmao-

You understand why Tomo bullies him, he's cute. If your little brother hasn't found you in the course of ten minutes, he will cry for you

Even when you appear, his attempts to stop weeping 'because it makes him less of a man' will fail and he'll just look x2 cuter

Mm, everything's not sunshine and rainbows, though

The wealth of the clan has been diminishing as time passes, so naturally, its prestige follows

Since both your parents are occupied with thinking of ways to keep the clan's nobility, most —if not all— of Kazuha's attention is placed on you. His beloved nee-chan o(≧∇≦o)

You pamper him, but not to the point that he becomes spoiled. Disciplining him crumbles your heart [he looks so sad when he's reprimanded] but since it is for his betterment, you still do it. He's a quick learner, too.

Anything for his nee-san. Anything for nee-san!

One time when he sees you being scolded heavily for something that he did, he teared up, ran on his wobbly legs, and punched your father's legs asdfghjkl

"Don't hurt nee-chan!"

Ugh, why is he so adorable. You personally keep him away from other girls his age because they're already giving him the heart eyes- you know for a fact that all that baby fat is going away to be replaced by more defined features when he grows up

So oohlala, when adolescence kicks in and he's suddenly looking sharper? Heavens. The pink envelopes coming in endless. Unfortunately, however, your brother doesn't look interested. You know what caught his fancy?

Roaming. Wandering. Adventuring.

Since the clan is losing its power, no one honestly cares that he is shirking his 'responsibilities'. Sometimes, he goes away and doesn't return for days. Just your typical adolescent, but he's still your sibling. He still calls you nee-san :D

That is until both your parents have passed — until the Kaedehara name lost its status — and you were both alone.

You were eighteen then, but you proved yourself capable of being the heir by pragmatism alone. Earning money for you and your brother, taking over the chores, everything.

During this time, Kazuha had been teaching himself the ways of the blade with Tomo, who offered his help to you whenever he could.

And as you grow up — eventually, Kazuha does, as well.

"Welcome home, how was your walk?" Your sibling, now at the age when you took over the household, smiled.

"Ah, I had to come back for my katana. Do excuse me."

He passed by the dining table that was already set with plates and utensils, heading over to his room. His gentle yet straightforward response befuddled you without a doubt, but it hollowed your chest.

It feels like you're missing something.

"Don't wait up, I'll take longer than usual," he appears back in a rush, arranging the sheathed blade hanging by his waist.

"Oh, at least—"

"I'll see you soon, [Name]!"

His tuff of silver hair vanishes behind the panels — and you are alone.

Ah, this feeling was familiar..

It felt like the night you came upon your parents' unmoving figures.

The smile on your face was bittersweet.

You knew what was missing.

He wasn't calling you 'nee-san' anymore.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

a/n: well that's a way to end a fluffy scenario... ah, i think i'll be making a separate masterlist for scenarios so it doesn't clump. eeee~ thanks for reading!

≿————-　taglist　————-≾

@lehra @melkxsh

Y/n: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Inui: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Y/n : O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Inui: Is it working?

So true lmao

aka the X Reader Boys lol

INUPI

does this look like an 800 number to you? - k.hj

spirit!kim hongjoong x gender neutral!reader

tw - implied suicide (do not read if such topics will trigger you), mild description of wounds, very brief fluff in the beginning, angst

word count: 3k

a/n: i know this is a half hour late for halloween i'm sorry don't @ me about it

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The voice was so sudden and loud that it made you tip over as you scrambled to get away from the ouija board in the middle of your living room floor. Your head hit the floor hard and you winced, the pain making tears sting your eyes.

“Ow,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut. You made no attempt to get up and no more words came from anywhere near the ouija board. You must’ve imagined it. You let out a soft sigh. In your desperation for company you’d imagined that the cheap board you’d gotten from a thrift store had actually summoned some sort of presence in your crappy, dank apartment. Now the tears welling in your eyes were less from the pounding ache in your head and more from how pathetic the whole situation was. Who the fuck uses a ouija board to find company anyway?

“Hello? Did you knock yourself out? I asked you a question.”

You huffed softly. Why was the voice still there? You sat up, pressing a hand to the back of your head to try and quell the pain while you sniffed away your tears. There was no point in crying now. You should probably just order take out and get some sleep. Your vision cleared and you went to get up, only to find a man sitting cross-legged across from you. Oh.

“So?” he asked, clearly irritated. “Can you explain why I’m here?”

His mouth was pulled into a frown but otherwise he looked pretty normal. Like any other person you’d see on the street or at the grocery store. Surely this isn’t what ouija boards were supposed to dredge up, right? But he was here and clearly waiting for an answer anyway and you figured you might as well give him one.

“I wanted company,” you blurted out. You cringed at the overly honest answer. Judging by the look on the man’s face he had definitely expected a better excuse.

“Does this look like an 800 number to you?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the ouija board.

“No,” you said, feeling shame crawl up your chest. It was just your luck that you’d summon a dickhead spirit. The tears came springing back and you could feel your cheeks start to burn from holding them back. Spending Halloween night alone with nothing to do and nowhere to go was bad enough but now you were being scolded for wanting something better to do, which was definitely worse.

“Hey, did you hit your head hard? Why are you crying?” the man asked, his voice suddenly much softer than it had been just a minute ago. You shook your head, hiding your face behind your hands.

“No, I’m fine,” you mumbled. “You can leave, it’s whatever.”

“I’m already here now,” he replied, now only slightly annoyed. You heard shuffling and suddenly there was a cold hand on the back of your head. You uncovered your face and found that the man was kneeling in front of you, his frown less intense and his eyes fixed on yours. “Did you hit your head hard?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice still unsteady. He grunted, letting go of your head and taking a hold of your face instead, wiping away your tears roughly and with little care.

“Well you kind of deserved it. Being dragged here like this is annoying. Ouija boards don’t bring us here by choice,” he said, letting go of your face. Now that he’d reprimanded you a little more his frown disappeared entirely, a neutral expression taking its place. “You’ve got your company now. Do you have any food?”

You blinked, your brows furrowing as you tried to understand what he was saying. Was this really how ouija boards worked? What kind of spirits turned up to scold you and then ask for food?

“I was going to order take out,” you told him, at the sound of which he pulled a face.

“Let’s cook something,” he said firmly before standing up. He took a moment to dust himself off, looking around your small living room to inspect your belongings. When he turned his head you noticed a wound in his head. It was bloody and the flesh around it was mangled, although you couldn’t see much of the damage thanks to the dark dry blood. It sat almost at the back of his head but slightly to the side of it, and now that you knew where it was you noticed it when he was facing you directly again. He turned the other way, eyes dragging over the shelves by your TV, making another wound visible. This one was significantly smaller and significantly cleaner as well. You chewed on your bottom lip, suddenly very aware of the nature of the man standing in front of you. “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard. Come on, let’s cook.”

He turned his head a little and you found that he’d been looking at you the whole time. Or more so watching you look at the wound in his head. For the second time since he’d shown up you felt your face burn with embarrassment.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, standing up and walking the few steps it took to get to your kitchen.

The man wasn’t particularly helpful but you supposed you couldn’t expect much after summoning him from wherever he had come from. He boiled noodles and ate crisps while you fried and cooked the few vegetables you’d found in your fridge, the silence between the two of you a little awkward but not tense. You were still frying the vegetables when he sidled up to you, his shoulder almost pressing into yours.

“Can we put on some music?” he asked, smiling when you nodded. You handed him your phone and he navigated YouTube with ease, making you wonder when exactly he’d passed away. His clothes were a little weird (who the hell wears pants that are half plaid and half denim?) but only in the way that fashion is weird. They didn’t look outdated at all. Before you could ask about them, the kitchen filled with the sound of music playing from your phone. You glanced over at the screen and saw a logo but not much else. He seemed pleased, lifting himself to sit on the counter while you poured sauce over the vegetables.

“ATEEZ?” you asked, squinting slightly to see the logo better. The man hummed in response. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“They’re gonna make it big soon,” he said, nodding solemnly. “They might have a Spotify page up, you should check it out.”

He had a different expression on his face now. In fact it’d be more appropriate to say that there was no expression on his face at all, what with the way his eyes were unfocused and his lips were pressed into a thin line. You looked at the wound in his head again. You could see into his head now that you were closer to it - could see the crater where his brain and skull and scalp should’ve been. Your stomach twisted at the sight and you concentrated on the pan in front of you.

“Can you drain the noodles and split them into two bowls?” you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace he’d found now that he was listening to music. He hopped down from the counter and did as you asked, letting you spoon the vegetables and sauce over both portions of noodles. He grinned at you once you were done.

“This looks way better than take out,” he said, picking up both bowls and carrying them to the living room. You followed after him, picking up your phone and scrolling through the recommended videos. A few videos down a thumbnail popped up of a few guys sitting in what looked like a basement with a shoddy recording studio set up around them. They were grinning at each other - wide, childish grins that you recognised from old photos you had with your own friends. The kind of smile you can’t hold back regardless of how hard you tried. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d smiled like that. It took a few seconds for you to realise that the boy sitting in the middle was the same man now sitting in your living room. You checked the title of the video. ‘ATEEZ - Treasure’. You’d listen to it later, you decided.

You found the man sitting on the floor in front of your coffee table, shovelling noodles into his mouth and clicking through TV channels. His eyes widened almost comically when he saw you, his ears turning pink.

“Sorry,” he said through his mouthful of food. He chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “Sorry I started without you. Nobody’s cooked for me since-”

He stopped talking, his mouth still halfway open with no sound coming out. There was a long moment in which he looked like he might just evaporate in front of you - whether it would be out of embarrassment or sorrow you couldn’t tell. But then he blinked a few times and shut his mouth, turning his attention back to the TV.

“There should be horror movies on, right? Isn’t it Halloween?” he asked, handing you the remote control.

“Yeah, you just didn’t find the movie channels,” you explained, clicking through the channels until you found one playing a movie. “Have you seen Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“Of course I have. Johnny Depp’s really hot in it,” he said.

“Lucky for you,” you said, snorting softly at his comment. He grinned when he looked up to see that Nightmare on Elm Street was playing on the TV, looking over at you and laughing softly.

“Score,” he murmured.

The two of you ate quietly after that, occasionally commenting on the actors in the movie or the special effects. When the movie came to an end you left him with the task of finding another movie to watch while you washed the dishes, the small apartment filled with the white noise of the TV playing and the man’s quiet humming. When you came back to the living room he’d made himself at home in a corner of the sofa, eyes concentrated on a movie you didn’t recognise.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

“You’re the guest, you don’t have to thank me,” you said, smiling a little. You didn’t want to say it out loud but you were more than happy to wash his dishes and watch the horror movies he was picking out. You hadn’t had a friend over like this in so long - not a friend or acquaintance or anybody - and you'd started to think you weren't going to have anyone over ever again. Sure, he’d been irritable at first but now that he’d settled down he was a pleasant presence. You sat down on the sofa with a soft sigh. “If you want anything just let me know.”

“I want one thing,” he said not a second after you’d spoken, looking over at you with a more serious expression than you’d seen on him since he’d turned up.

“Sure, what is it?” you prompted, his stare making you uncomfortable. You felt stripped bare by the way his eyes narrowed for a split-second, his hands completely still as he looked at you.

“Why did you use that board?” he asked. “Not in the way that I asked you earlier, like ‘what the fuck are you doing’. It’s not like you have any friends here for it to be fun. You didn’t even light candles or any of that spooky stuff. So what was the point?”

You paused, opening and closing your mouth until you realised you must look like a goldfish and you shut your mouth, looking away from him. It wasn’t a very personal question but it certainly felt like one. Maybe it was the sincere tone in his voice or the fact that he was still staring but you felt like you’d been shoved under a spotlight.

“I told you, I wanted company,” you said finally. It wasn’t entirely a lie after all.

“Okay. But you know that you’re alive, right? You can go out to clubs or to friends’ houses or invite people over - other living people,” he said. His tone wasn’t accusatory but you felt a little childish now that he’d put it like that. “You don’t have to call on the dead.”

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you tried to figure out how to answer him.

“I just didn’t have anyone. To go out with or visit or invite over,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have anyone.”

He didn’t say anything for what felt like far too long and you turned around, scared that he might’ve disappeared, but he was still in his corner of the sofa, still staring steadily with his hands placed on his knees and his lips parted as though he was trying to come up with something to say.

“You don’t have to answer, let’s just watch the movie,” you mumbled sheepishly, angling your body away from him so that you wouldn’t have to feel his eyes on you anymore. Once again he didn’t reply. Instead, you felt his hand close around your wrist. His skin was so cold it made you jump, your head whipping around to find him sitting much closer to you than he had been just seconds ago.

“No,” he said. “You’re not alone.”

“What?” you asked, drawing your wrist out of his grip. He let you do so and leaned away from you slightly, his lips forming a frown.

“The last time someone cooked for me was a week before I- a week before I died,” he said, eyes never leaving yours. He visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down. You wondered if he had the same lump in his throat that you did. “It was my best friend. We were watching movies in my apartment - us and all of our other friends. He cooked for us. We helped him but he always took care of us, so he did most of the cooking.”

You wanted to understand what he was trying to say. From the way he was struggling to keep a straight expression it was clear that he’d made a connection you hadn’t noticed yet and you waited for him to explain.

“And they stayed over for most of the night but when they left I should have-”

He paused and you noticed how his hands were no longer still but shaking. You took them into yours and gave them a soft squeeze. He inhaled sharply, finally breaking the eye contact he’d been holding for so long.

“I felt alone, like you do. I knew I could go out or go back to his place or just ask them to come back but I didn’t,” he said. He looked back up at you, his lashes wet and his bottom lip shaking. “I didn’t mean to- I should have called someone.”

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching forward to pull him into you. He hugged you tightly, clinging to you as though his existence depended on it. His tears soaked through your shirt and your own vision blurred at the feeling, your heart sinking in your chest. “Don’t cry.”

“Hypocrite,” he mumbled between sniffles without any real bite. His hand moved up and down against your back slowly, soothing both you and himself until neither of you were crying anymore. “I made it so I can never see them again. We were gonna make it big together. My friends are really- they’re so talented and I wanted to be there with them when they-”

You shushed him, not wanting him to work himself up again. He shook his head and hugged you tighter.

“You’re not like me. You can still call someone,” he said, his shoulders shaking as he suddenly pulled back to look at you, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “If you don’t have anyone I’ll give you his number. My best friend. He'll answer. I know he will.”

There was so much desperation in his voice that it only made more tears roll down your cheeks. He let go of one of your shoulders and wiped your cheeks with his thumb. He was a dozen times more careful than he had been when wiping your face earlier and it made your heart ache.

“I’m a stranger, he won’t answer,” you whispered. The man in front of you shook his head.

“He knows that people need somebody sometimes,” he said gently. “He’ll take care of you the way he took care of me, okay?”

You could tell that wasn’t really the sentence he wanted to say but you didn’t need to hear him say it to know what he meant.

He’ll take care of you the way he can’t take care of me anymore.

“I know I said that ouija boards aren’t supposed to be 800 numbers but you use that board whenever you need company, okay?” he said. His voice had returned somewhat to the harsh tone he’d had when he first turned up in your living room, finding a balance between caring and rude that was reminiscent of how close friends talk to each other. You smiled through the tears in your eyes and nodded. He nodded in return and settled against the sofa to watch TV, gesturing for you to lean into him. “There’s still some of the movie left.”

The next morning the man was nowhere to be found. The only proof that he hadn’t been a figment of your imagination was the extra bowl drying on the dish rack and the notification on your lock screen from a new contact named Seonghwa in response to a message that you remembered the man typing out into your phone. He was inviting you out to dinner with his friends.

The final piece of evidence was that you were now following ATEEZ on Spotify. Their top song started with an audio clip of the man you’d met last night, giggling and talking to the rest of his friends in what sounded like the happiest voice you’d ever heard. He was talking about the next album he wanted to write. His voice was nowhere to be found in the rest of the song.

It hurt to hear.

☆⌒

taglist: @lovely-ateez @sunsethw4 @seonghwanotes @xirenex @choiberry @peanutpmingib @sannierio @ateezinmymind

in love and flustered :-)