This Was Beautifully Written - Tumblr Posts
fragments of a life
Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era) Characters: The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor (Doctor Who)
Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Second-Person Narrative, basically just a collection of drabbles, Getting Together, Self-Harm, Masturbation, POV The Master (Doctor Who), a cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bears thinking about, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, I love these emotionally stunted babies with all of my heart
Summary:
A collection of some of the Master’s earliest memories.
Lights Out, Words Gone
A/N: So, there was an attempt, by me. Heh. I'm just really trying to get back into creative writing. I used to enjoy writing, but no one told me that turning that into a career and years of writing newsletters and articles for corporate dulls the mind and at this point, even journaling feels like a chore. But if you found this fic and somewhat enjoyed it, I'm grateful.
***
It's ridiculous, you think to yourself. How can someone be easily disarmed by a smile?
One minute, you're furiously driving at 2 a.m. to pick Yoongi up from a dive bar hours where you live, ready to cuss him out; the next, you're giggling next to him after he told you the lamest joke you've ever heard.
"Y/N, what did the full glass of water say to the empty glass of water?"
In no mood for his shenanigans, you slide the glass of water closer to him. Unperturbed, he continues with a grin, "You look drunk."
You let out an annoyed sigh. The joke doesn't even make sense, and yet, because it's Yoongi's gummy smile and his contagious giggles echo off the empty glasses and fill the booth, your mood shifts.
Suddenly, you snort a laugh. Hearing your amusement, his giggles turn into hearty laughs, and you follow.
Another minute passed, and as he catches his breath, you feel yours winded. Feeling compelled to break the silence, you tease, "Did you steal that joke from Jin?"
Not waiting for an answer, you usher him out of the corner of the bar he hid himself in. He lets you push him out as he weakly argues, "Did not. I thought of it myself. I can make funny jokes too, you know." You hum in response, amused by the pout forming on his face.
***
Sobering up during the drive to his home, Yoongi trudges straight to his bedroom. You follow, wanting to at least make sure he's tucked in with a bucket on his side of the bed—a precaution lest he hurls his guts in bed.
You eye Yoongi as he grabs a shirt from his drawer and take that as your cue to leave, but you stop mid-journey out the door when he says,
"Stay the night."
What.
"Yoongi—"
"And if you think I'm letting you take the couch, I'm offended. You can sleep here."
A beat passes. His outstretched hand still holds the folded shirt towards you. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."
Oh. He meant…
"Remember hell weeks shared in Jin's fancy dorm room? You snored like a fucking berserk honking truck." He attempts a chuckle, probably remembering those younger versions of you whose only problems were exams and thesis defense.
The nostalgia hits you, and you quip, "Ya! I remember Jungkook and I pulling an all-nighter for all those times. It was actually you who loudly snored." You snatch the shirt from his hands but still mumble a quick thanks.
Again, you hear his giggles.
***
Laying stiff beside him, you almost succeed in willing your mind to slip into dreamland when you feel his side of the bed dip.
"You awake?" he asks. "I am now," you huff. You open your eyes to adjust to the dim room, the only light source coming from the street lamp post outside his bedroom window and the tiny static light of your charging phone on the bedside table.
"I just…" he starts, "I wanted to thank you for picking me up. The guys were either out of town or probably too deep in their sleep to hear their phones."
"Yes, well… I was on the other side of the town and deep in sleep when you called." You weren't sure what your point was. Probably wanted him to know that you know he definitely did not call anyone else but you tonight.
But of course, he knows that you know. He knows he can't bullshit you. Not when you used to spend every waking moment since you met in college. Years of friendship synced you together—getting used to one's idiosyncrasies, being able to read each other across the room, and sharing the same opinion on all things you deemed important.
"And yet you still came. I'm surprised you actually picked up after weeks of radio silence."
"I actually thought it was one of my booty calls," you joke. He doesn't laugh or react, but you continue, "It's not like this is out of the ordinary. It's fine. Get some rest, Yoongi."
Thinking you ended the conversation, he suddenly confronts you, "Why did you suddenly cut me off?"
Ah.
Now, you consider if he orchestrated the whole thing. Trying to corner you so he could finally confront you. It wouldn't be out of his character.
"I didn't cut you off," you lamely defend yourself. Hoping he lets it go.
But he holds out.
"Right. So you suddenly dodging calls and missing weekly hangouts is what?" His voice remains calm, but you would miss how it sounds heavier if you hadn't known him for years. Each word is weighed down with pent-up emotion, and now those fueled words hit you like bricks.
"I've gotten busy. Everyone did after graduation."
He shifts a bit closer to you. "You know, even in the dark, I can tell when you're lying, right? I may not see how your eyes get shifty, but your voice has that lilt at the end when you speak. Almost as if you're also trying to make yourself believe in your lie."
You can already feel the onset of a headache from your lack of sleep, but what's more pressing is how your heart dreads being this close to him again, even more so now that you're being called out and you have no excuse. At least nothing good enough to pass Yoongi.
As the minute passes, the silence thickens, and you feel yourself growing even more tired. It could be from the drive, lack of sleep, or that you just fucking had the most mentally-draining shift just hours before that you finally resigned with honesty. Besides, now that you take a glance at his curled-up form beside you, you admit that he, at least, deserves to know why you distanced yourself.
Yoongi has been your best friend for years—the one who made sure to look into your eyes as he encouraged you to take the extra classes because if you thought it would help you secure the job of your dreams, then he believed it would pay off in the end, and you needed to believe that, too.
Yoongi, who held your hand when you went through mental and emotional hurdles. You honestly believe you wouldn't be here now, living and breathing, had it not been for him.
If only the way you looked at him stayed the same, and how his hands felt in yours remained unnoticed, like those days when he held you as you hurled your guts at bar restrooms because you either failed or aced an exam.
If only your feelings didn't root themselves in what you thought was your uninhabitable heart and grow its tendrils over the years of laughing, crying, and sharing even the most mundane moments with Yoongi.
And so you will be honest, but you don't know where to start other than offering an apology.
"I'm sorry, Yoongi. I fucked up."
He doesn't respond but motions for you to continue, "I fell in love with you." How cliche.
You hear him let out a sigh. Out of relief or disappointment, you're unsure.
A minute passes. Oh god. You should leave now. Leave because it's what you're good at; at least now he knows why.
But before you could stand to your feet, he breaks the silence, "Then I fucked up, too."