Mumu Cries - Tumblr Posts

Me rn n I'm being so serious

Close Your Eyes

Boyfriend!Seungmin x Fem!Reader - Fake Texts

❗Genre: Heavy Angst - Very Heavy Content

❗Warnings: Heavy Themes of Suicide, Reader has a suicide plan, There is no death but there are mentions of waiting to end ones life, Heavy Themes of Anxiety.

❗A/N: Please do not read if you are not in the headspace to consume this type of content. Please do not read if you feel that you can not handle the emotions that this content could bring up. This type of content is not for everyone and I want you all to be as safe as possible.

✨Masterlist✨

This is so JKHJHSDZXCVBNJ7TYGFBVB🥹💟

STRAY KIDS REACTION THEIR S/O BEING INSECURE OF THEIR LAUGH

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: mentions of insecurities, mad Binnie, mentions of praise, complimenting, cuddles and kisses

Requested: No

Summary: How skz reacts to you being insecure of your laugh/smile.

BANGCHAN

× he hates it. He loves everything about you and for you to not love yourself too hurts his heart😓 he knows everyone has insecurities and that's okay, though, he doesn't understand why you don't like your smile or laugh. He thinks your laugh is cute, loud or quiet, obnoxious or not, even if you hit white laughing he doesn't care. He loves seeing his baby happy and for you to hide it under your hand or silencing your laugh on purpose so no one would really hear it. Broke his heart everytime. He talked to you a few times and you're trying it's just hard and he understands that, so, baby steps. He's just so unbelievably happy when you don't hide your laugh and smile even if it's Everytime or sometimes. He'll take what he can get! He even tries to pull your hands down if he really wants to see your smile and hear your laugh. He worked hard to see it! He deserves it.

MINHO

× he hates it so much. He lit gets so upset at some point and confronts you about it. He would tease you if you had a considered weird laugh but quickly let's you know he's just playing; all jokes. He makes sure to not tease you on your smile or laughter tho,, seeing as you clearly don't like it. It's obvious pretty quickly to him that you aren't to fund of your smile/laugh. He tries to let you know that there's nothing to be insecure about, subtly. Smiles when you smile, whenever you let your guard down and smile or laugh in front of him he'll tell you he likes your laugh/smile. He'll even stop or quiet down his laughter just to hear yours since he doesn't get to hear it often, though he wish he did. He talked to you about it one day and you poured your heart to him about your insecurities, that being included. He just listened. Once you were done and got everything out, he loves you, cuddlesbyou and praises you for hours. Sure, out of character for Minho. But, it's moments like these that you both cherish oh so much. Your his baby, he'll do anything js to hear that pretty laugh of your and pretty smile that he loves oh so much.

CHANGBIN

× he's so mad. Not at you, never at you. But at the person who made you insecure of such a natural and pretty thing. He constantly praises you, he never gets tired of it either. Always worshipping you, bragging about you to his parents and sister, supports you in anything you do. Baby just wants the best for you. So, you not liking your smile/laugh kills him and makes him feel so sad. How could you say such a thing to HIS partner? HIS beautiful, amazing, pretty, talented, badass girly?, he shuts you don't Everytime because what? WDYM you're insecure? "It's the prettiest thing about you, Princess", he would always say. He didn't care how much convincing it took for you to start believing what he's been saying—even after you start loving yourself he'll still make sure to praise you. He does it in the most entertaining ways too. Never fails to entertain and amuse you.

HYUNJIN

× he takes this so seriously. He talks to you about it as soon as he knew how to approach you about it. He talked softly and made sure you were comfortable and even the setting of the mood wasn't too tense. You guys went through everything and got to know each other on a deeper level then ever before. He's glad though, he understands you and your insecurities and somewhat knows on how to help or make you feel better. He's always so sweet, loving, passionate and gentle with you. He's careful about his words when on topics that may trigger your insecurities. He always reminds you how beautiful your laugh and smile is to him. He truly means it, always. He'd never lie to you. He worships the ground that you walk on and always brags about how amazing and talented his s/o is. Baby just wants to see your smile and hear your laugh more often, the way your nose scrunches up cutely.

HAN

× you found him sobbing one day and when he told you why it was because you're always hiding your smile and laugh. Poor baby was clinging onto you like it was the last time he'd get to see you. Snot running down, sobbing, his nose red and his phone cracking from hours of crying as he rambled about how much he loves your smile and laugh and how he hated it so much that you barely ever showed him it. You felt so bad and tried showing him your smile and laugh more for him after but you still had moments you would accidentally cover your mouth or hide your laughter. Poor baby js wants to see you happy :( he worked hard to see you smile and laugh and ja hates that youre insecure about it. He loves hearing your laugh, it's the most beautiful sound that comes from you. He can never get enough of the sound of your laughter. And your smile? He thinks it's so bright and deserves to be shown off! It makes his day instantly better when he sees your smile. Poor baby js wants to see and hear you happy please don't deprive him of it😓 definitely holds your hands now whenever you try to cover your mouth while laughing or smiling.

FELIX

× makes him frown whenever he sees you do it. He doesn't try and tell you to stop but he doesn't do things to try and help you be more comfortable or show him your laugh and smile. He'll compliment your smile/laugh and says how much he loves it. He'll hold your hand on purpose because he knows you're about to laugh and wants to hear it. He tickles you all the time js to catch you off guard and he can hear your laugh, even if it's a few seconds, anything is better than nothing. He makes you smile just to hold your hands or hold your cheeks so you have no excuse to hide your beautiful smile from him. Yeah, it's a slow process, but, he's willing to do anything just to get you more comfortable around him and show him that pretty smile and laugh of yours!

SEUNGMIN

× now, this is very hypocritical for him to say that you shouldn't be insecure of your smile. Though, even if it is different reasons why you both don't like your smiles,he's still going to try to get you to start loving it. Your laugh too. Coming up behind you and wraps his arms around you as he rests his head on your shoulder. He'll sweetly kiss whatever skin is showing and softly tell you how gorgeous and pretty you are — how perfect you are to him. He loves everything about you, even your smile and laugh. He can't get enough of it, which is true. Seeing you happy makes him so happy, he loves and cherishes you so much. You're the most important person in his life and has such a soft spot for you. So yeah, he's going to keep trying until you finally learn to love yourself.

JEONGIN

× poor baby doesn't know what to do, he doesn't want to seem like he's trying to control you or boss you around or sum but he really hates not seeing your smile and your pretty laugh :( like Felix, he's tries to do things to try and get you to be more comfortable with him. Complimenting your smile n laugh, Purposely intertwining your guys hands together so he can see your smile. He tells you when he thinks you're sleeping how grateful he is to have you in his life and how much he loves not only you, but too your laugh and smile. Whether you're actually asleep or not, he's still going to say it. He's once or twice has told you that you should show your happiness more around him; your smile and laughter. He js wants you to know there's never any judgement with him and you can be yourself.

”Wake up, Love.❤️” JHGFTTHDYJTFKHCGCYFJFKUHCGFDTYF

Chan as Reminders

Simptober Reminders M-list

Pairing: Chan (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff ;))))

Warnings: mention of food?

Notes: EWWW MY WAS TEXTING SO WEIRDDD I DIDNT LIKE IT😭😭😭 SO I DIDNT ADD IT DONT BE MAD☹️

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Wake up love"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains as you lay in your cozy bed, the warmth of the covers enveloping you. It was one of those perfect mornings when you could sleep in a little longer, and you were relishing every moment of it. Your phone, which sat on the bedside table, chimed with a gentle notification sound.

As you stirred from your slumber, you reached for your phone, still half-asleep. The message on the screen brought a smile to your lips, instantly brightening your morning. It was from Chan, and it read, "Wake up love."

You blinked away the remnants of sleep, your heart feeling warm at his affectionate message. It was a sweet and endearing habit of his, something he had done from the very beginning of your relationship. Those little texts never failed to make your day.

With a sleepy yet contented sigh, you replied, "Hey, where are you?"

His response came quickly, "Just picking stuff up from the store."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his straightforwardness. Chan was always so practical and to the point. You texted back, "Come home soon," before snuggling back into the covers, feeling a sense of warmth and anticipation as you waited for him to return. It was moments like these, the simple exchanges of love and care, that made your relationship with Chan so special and comforting.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The room was filled with a peaceful hush as you lay nestled in your bed, wrapped in the warmth of sleep. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle radiance over your room. It was one of those serene moments when the world felt still, and dreams danced on the edges of your consciousness.

In the midst of this tranquil night, your phone chimed with a familiar notification sound. The message was from Chan, your beloved, who was in the living room as he usually was, working on his tasks. The message simply read, "wake up love."

The noise of the text interrupted your dreams, and your eyes fluttered open. A smile immediately tugged at your lips as you read his message. With a sense of excitement and anticipation, you hopped out of bed, the sleepiness dissipating quickly. You couldn't wait to see what he had in store for you.

With silent footsteps, you made your way from the bedroom to the living room, where Chan was absorbed in his work. The soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated his features, and you couldn't help but admire the way he was always so dedicated and focused.

As soon as he noticed you entering the room, Chan removed his headphones and set his computer aside. His eyes lit up with affection and warmth as he welcomed you. You couldn't wait any longer and eagerly took a seat next to him.

Without hesitation, Chan reached for you, his strong arms encircling your waist, lifting you gently into his lap. Your heart skipped a beat as he cradled you against his chest, your bodies fitting perfectly together like two puzzle pieces.

His head nestled into the crook of your neck, and he whispered, his breath sending delightful shivers down your spine, "Good morning, baby girl."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The tranquility of sleep had you in its gentle grasp when suddenly, the familiar chime of your phone pierced through the silence of the room. Groggily, you reached for your phone, squinting at the bright screen as you tried to focus.

The sender's name brought a smile to your face even before you read the message. It was Chan, your beloved, who was at work while you enjoyed the comfort of your cozy bed. With a small chuckle, you unlocked your phone to see what he had to say.

"Wake up love," the message read, and a warm feeling washed over you. Despite the initial grogginess, you couldn't help but giggle softly to yourself. It was moments like these that reminded you of just how head over heels you were for him.

You quickly typed out a response, your fingers dancing over the screen. "Thanks, Channie," you texted back, the words flowing effortlessly from your heart to your fingertips.

Almost immediately, a reply came, and it was a simple heart emoji. It was amazing how a single heart symbol could convey so much affection. With that sweet exchange of messages, your day had already started on a wonderful note. The thought of Chan thinking about you while at work warmed your heart, and you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to have someone so perfect and caring in your life.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Tags: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-jilee @sungiesoonie  @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @buckys-pillow, @staygirl86 @chlodavids @jinnie-ret @bbygrlhannie @rebecca-johnson-28  @turtledove824  @interstellarairwaves @yearofthetiger25 @minhos4thkitty @fiqire @backintomykpopphaseagain @liknws @tinyelfperson @aaasia111 @yangbbokari

Is this too much to ask for🥹

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・7.7k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!felix x gn!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, like a surprising amount of crying icl 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love ... you do the math

𝐚/𝐧・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying? 

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile. 

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence.

He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES.  From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket. 

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge. 

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being. 

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair. 

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each. 

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

(reblogging this bc I've read it dozens of times and i still cry when I do)

✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails with minho before death knocks

✰ pairings: sick!minho x gn!reader

✰ genre: angst, romance, grief

✰ warnings: major character death, mentions of alzheimer’s illness, lots of what ifs and unsaid thoughts, forever isn’t for ever.

✰ word count: 1.2k + words

MINHO | chan | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

one 𖨂

hey, uhm i honestly don’t know what to say but i’ll try. so it’s five forty in the morning and i’m sending these to you. the doctors– they said i won’t be able to m-make it. . . and i want to reassure you that whatever happened wasn’t your fault. at all, my kitten. we didn’t know i had this terminal illness, and i think now is the perfect time to say those things i never said. firstly, i love you so much. more than you can imagine. and yes, even more than that tv show of mine. there’s honestly so much to say, but there’s so little time. i have only 2-3 more hours, i suppose? and i begged the doctor to not call you before i’m gone. i know this isn’t fair to you my little star, but i don’t want to see you in pain because of me, or anyone else. which is why i’m afraid of letting go of your hand. afraid that if i go, you will try to follow me blindly, do the wrong things, walk down the wrong paths and will end up losing yourself. i don’t ever want that to happen. ever. so, please don’t cry when i’m gone. i guess you can cry a bit. . . but not much. what if you end up getting a sore throat? if you do, take the medicines from the second drawer in the bathroom, okay?

two 𖨂

i’ll miss you. your goofy faces that you make, your cute little squeaks between your laughs, your beautiful eyes that always shine when you see chocolates and you. all of you. i’ll miss all of you so much. how about you? will you miss me too? will you bake your cinnamon rolls that i love so much at the funeral? or on my birthday? will you? i’m not even sure what happens after death. whether i will even remember you or not, i don’t know. but what i know is, that i’ll watch over you from up there. i’ll always watch. so don’t be afraid to step out of the house after it gets dark. and if you do, carry that pepper spray with you, okay? doesn’t it feel so surreal? me becoming a star, when i always call you my little star? i guess that’s why i’ll have to watch over you from afar. me, a big star. you, my cute little star. i’ll shine bright in the sky, i’m sure of that. so don’t you dare lose that shine on you as well, alright?

three 𖨂

it feels weird and- and scary. i’m so nervous, love. i didn’t want to die like this, never! i wanted to live a long life with you. live with our three little cats, and maybe a few mini versions of ourselves running around our house. i wanted to see you grow old. and i want to keep loving you even when you put hair brushes into the freezer and dishes in the bathroom, i want to be with you. right by your side. and even when you forget to brew your evening coffee, i want to hold your hand and guide you. and even when you keep repeating the same words three times a day, i will pretend it’s new. so that you don’t have to remember that you’re forgetting. yeah, i know it. the doctors told me you can have alzheimer’s over time, it’s highly possible. but i’m afraid i won’t be able to take care of you kitten. and i’m sorry– i really am. i wish it didn’t have to end this way.

four 𖨂

i know you. you were looking for forever. i couldn’t give you that. but i can at least take the batteries out of the clocks so that we’ll be stuck inside this moment as if time had really been stopped. so that i’ll almost get a million extra seconds to spend with you, except here seconds do not exist. it’s only the two of us. you and i. in our forever. and when i die, you can crank your watch– restart the clocks and begin the time. and know that we were infinite the moment you were mine. i’ll always be yours. always. i promise. but i want you to move on. i want you to experience love again while you’re still young. i’ll support every decision of yours from up there, and i’ll cheer on you. i don’t ever want to hold you back. nuh-uh. i want you to move forward, and even though you can look back, i don’t ever want you think you could’ve changed the past. you need to walk on a different road now. one without me. and though it hurts to say this– you need to live without me. live for us. live for the future you always wanted. live to complete those bucket lists of yours and even mine, since i couldn’t complete even a single of them. live. just live happily.

five 𖨂

it’s ten minutes past seven, and i feel sick. pain scale infinite/100. my whole body feels on fire. my hands– they wouldn’t stop trembling no matter how hard i try. my lips have turned pale, and i feel it coming. i can sense it. i can sense death waiting on the door. waiting that the moment i finish it’s going to snatch me away from you, from this world. and i’m trying to stall time. but my body doesn’t listen to me anymore. it’s become weaker and more. . . stubborn. my love. i wish i could call you that more often. my little star. my kitten. all these nicknames are the only way i survived my nights admitted in this hospital. i used to think of you. think of what you would do after i’m gone. think of what you would feel. think of who else would cry for me. and i don’t know what to do. i really don’t. i feel just so helpless. i don’t know what to do anymore. i really don’t. i hope you’re not sad because of it. please don’t be. take care of our three beautiful children okay? tell them that their father has gone to a beautiful place, show them your love, sing to them at night and take them in your arms when you feel sad. and if you ever miss me, look at the rain, or the stars or the clouds, i’ll always be here to listen. always. just as i promised.

six 𖨂

i hoped that death would be a bit kinder. i hoped she gave me some more time, some more years i could spend loving, admiring and memorizing every bit of you. but it’s always unexpected. she comes in unexpected ways and takes away our loved ones in the blink of an eye. i’m talking like a true poet now, aren’t i? give that pink letter to my parents, green one for each members and blue one for you. tell them to open that after a week, it applies to you as well, missy. be kinder to yourself. love yourself. look at the mirror and think of my compliments. felix gives the best hugs. hug him if you feel low. if you ever feel drained out like me. i’m tired now. just– so so tired. can i rest now? please? i’ll always love you regardless of whatever may come. and i’ll always be in your heart. i’m about to be a star, my love. s-signing off, yours forever.

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