Hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward. They can move fast and in all directions, reaching freeway speeds when they swoop into a dive. Hummingbirds are so quick that they can easily escape predators like snakes, falcons, jays, toucans, and cats, unless they are taken by surprise. (photos: Ian Gill)
I’ve been listening to Glass Animals a lot lately and I was ~inspired~ so I spat this out… idk how I feel about it but here you go.
Summary: Nico di Angelo has a voice like charred cinnamon and Will Solace is addicted
Word Count: 2,099
Warnings: Vague nudity… kind of smut… but not really…… at all………..
Will remembers the night like a dream or a backward hallucination.
It starts in a bar made of low lights and swaying bodies. Lazy disco lights that filter through fingers like something sticky.
The music makes the atmosphere what it is. The band that’s performing is just starting out, and Will doubts that anyone in the room is sure of what their name even is, but they fill up the room with their noise. It’s a hazy timbre of electronic sound, it breathes and pulses, controls the fibers of everything it touches.
Their lead singer has a voice that’s so soothing it turns Will’s limbs to waste. He exists only front and center on the stage, crooning, hangs from the microphone like he wouldn’t be standing otherwise. He’s less dancing to the music and more singing to the dance. His movements control the way the words are breathed from his lips.
Will hasn’t been so mesmerized by someone before in his life.
After they finish performing, he finds the melodist at the bar, throwing back a drink and settling it back down onto the counter with a gentle exhale. His lips part slightly, face tilted toward the ceiling and catching a glowing serenade of lights. He’s made of everything soft and lovely in that moment.
Will’s first words to him can barely be heard over the second band of the night.
“I’d like to know your name.”
When this stranger sets his gaze on him, Will feels his fingers go numb. His eyes are just as dizzying as everything else about him. The smile that he offers is enough to jolt into action an earthquake across Will’s ribs.
“Nico,” He breathes it like a secret. Will leans forward like he wants to hear more, like he has to, and so Nico leans forward too, “di Angelo. Nico di Angelo.”
Later, when Nico pulls him into his hotel room, Will whispers it against his thighs, feels fingers twisting into his hair and hears Nico curse and whimper. It’s vertiginous, like standing at the edge of a drop-off, watching tiny pieces of earth crumble away and drop into the abyss.
Will kisses every inch of him, shivers and curls his toes at the feeling of Nico’s hands moving over him, his breath against his ear, his words the only important thing that exist in that moment. They’re all that is.
And afterward, Nico lays in his arms and sings into his hair and then against his neck, and Will tells him that he’s beautiful, because he is.
He’s not there in the morning.
Will would suspect he dreamt it, but the marks scattered across him prove otherwise.
Two years later, Will hears news of Nico’s band coming back through town and after arguing with himself for days on end, he gives in to the part that insists he needs this. So, he gets himself a spot front and center in the audience, the place he knows Nico di Angelo comes to life.
He slips onto stage like a shadow, the way he makes his way forward tricks Will’s mind into believing that he belongs there, that he’s just an extension of the rickety ceiling fans and loose floorboards.
His band is still small enough that a part of Will thinks of him as a secret to be kept from everyone else.
Will watches Nico’s fingers curl around the mic stand with such exact fascination that the breathy, “Hey,” uttered from above him makes him startle slightly before flicking his gaze upward; Nico stares straight back at him, all eyelashes and tight jeans.
The smirk that works its way onto Nico’s face as his band starts in on the first song of the night is dangerous and he practically makes love to the microphone, pulling his hands down it and letting his knees go weak. Will wants to stand in its place, let Nico utter the lyrics onto his lips.
As soon as the performance ends, Nico slips off the stage and lands right in front of Will, drags him into a kiss that’s all slow fire and Will’s brain blinking out.
That night, they dance against each other for hours and Will tries to memorize the paths his hands take. It’s not surprising that he wakes up to find Nico tangled in the sheets next to him. It’s also not surprising that he closes his eyes once more and when he opens them again, the other side of the bed is vacant.
It becomes habit. Every time Nico’s band goes on tour, they find their way back to a certain town huddled off to the side of a city that screams loud enough for the entire world.
There’s a point that Nico recalls vaguely, a restless night where it’s four a.m. and he’s thinking about a boy. A boy that lives all the way across the country. He’s wondering how he walks because they’ve never really been together long enough for Nico memorize something like that, to even pay attention.
Will Solace’s hips are the only consistency that Nico knows outside of the band. He knows the shape of him as well as he knows the shape of his guitar and it aches low inside of him, the way nothing else makes him feel quite as whole. So, even when his band is hitting top 40s lists, he gets them into the venue nearest to the boy with the freckles and he utters a cryptic greeting into his microphone when he finally spots him in the crowd, as close to the front as he can get.
Will knows where to find him after every concert. And he does, despite telling himself that he won’t, that this is the year he won’t find himself trapped in the singer’s web.
Nico stands out back next to the trash cans where no one else wants to venture, lazily pulls at a cigarette while he waits. Just like every other time before.
When Will catches sight of him, he frowns. “That’s going to kill you one way or another, di Angelo.”
Nico just tilts his head back and blows smoke into the night, “I only smoke once a year, Sunshine.”
The meaning is clear, but Will is not flattered. “I don’t believe that. You could just stand out here.”
“That’s not nearly as fun.” He drops the cigarette and smashes it beneath his boot, creeps up to Will with a look on his face like vengeance flipped upside down, catches his belt loops and drags him closer.
Will sighs, lets their lips find each other in the dark. It’s too familiar, Nico’s hands slipping beneath his t-shirt.
Nico’s kisses tell a story.
His lips are soft and quietly desperate, they caress and move with such care that it feels almost irrelevant to breathe and disrupt their dance.
His tongue is pleading, it nudges against Will’s lips and slides against the edge of his teeth, he’s not afraid of being wounded.
His hands are tragic and tumbling, they don’t know where to rest and the shivers across Will’s nerves chase them.
Nico di Angelo is a drifter, nothing about him is quite certain, but when he kisses him, Will thinks of rainfall. He remembers sun breaking through clouds. He feels petals across his fingertips, breathes the sweet smell of honey and kicks up clouds of sand.
Nico is a summer breeze, he’s always welcome and never there for long.
Will always, always wants him.
So he drags himself away, holds Nico at arms-length, “No.”
Nico’s expression is more viable then than ever before, “What?”
“Tonight, we’re going somewhere. I’m… I can’t just have you for one night anymore, Nico, I just can’t.” He face crumbles as he says it and he pulls Nico slowly closer again, but more tender this time, just his hands against Nico’s biceps and their foreheads touching.
Nico closes his eyes, they’re so close that it would be difficult to just look away. “You know I can’t stay.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m just…” Will sighs defeatedly, kisses his cheek softly because it’s the only way they’ve communicated for so long, in touches and feeling. He wants to convey: I want so much more of you than what I have.
Nico’s breath catches. People are not tender with him, they do not want more, it’s always been one-night stands and coiling smirks and emptiness. He’s just a thing to be discarded.
But Will has always been different, softer.
He proves it now, nudging his nose against Nico’s, pushing hair from his face and muttering a quiet, “Hey,” into the wind.
Nico smiles a bit, “Hi.”
That makes Will laugh, but then they’re quiet again and it’s just their breaths and hands against skin and over clothing; tentative.
“We’ve known each other for years, Nico. And I don’t even know your favorite color. I don’t think I’ve even asked… I want to talk to you. I want… I want to know you. Really know you.”
Nico is already nodding, without even thinking it over really, because it’s always been what he wants too.
Will lets out a breath, “Where do you want to go?”
Shaking his head, “I can’t… We can’t go somewhere where I’ll be seen. I don’t want to deal with that tonight, Will.”
Will makes a face like he’s berating himself for forgetting such a simple thing. “Oh. Yeah, of course. We can… Just…” He opens his eyes, brushes his fingers over Nico’s cheek to get him to do the same, “Come to my place?”
Nico’s breath catches. Being invited into Will’s home feels symbolic.
Will pulls his jacket off and drapes it over Nico’s shoulders instead, pulls the hood up so it shades his face, and then guides him into the parking lot by the hand. Nico keeps his head down and holds his breath when they walk past large groups of people, but Will does his best to guard him from view and no one bats an eyelash.
Will Solace’s car is such an obvious reflection of him that Nico laughs. It’s an old, red pickup truck. The kind that belongs in the country, trundling over long and serene views of endless hills. Will just shoves him playfully, saying that he can walk if he’s going to disrespect his truck, and Nico shakes his head. “No, I just… I should have known that you’d own something like this.”
The look Will gives him makes Nico’s face flush enough to match the car. (It’s wondering and awed and lovely.)
Will turns the radio on as soon as he starts driving, and Nico watches as he taps out beats on the steering wheel and sings along off-key, flashing him sideways grins in between verses. It’s endearing because he’s not quiet about it. This a windows down, all or nothing afair, and Will Solace is giving it his all.
Soon enough, Nico joins in, and Will’s voice falters in the second afterward, because it seems almost disrespectful to sing over something that beautiful.
They keep up their chorus all the way to the door, though, even without the radio backing them up. It’s all laughter and Nico knocking their shoulders together, trying to shush Will, who’s not discouraged in the slightest. He only shuts up when he gets shoved against the door and Nico yanks their mouths together fierce enough to make his heart give out.
“Goddamn,” he chokes, and Nico laughs and laughs, pulls the keys out of his weakened fingers and opens the door for them.
Everything between them is as natural as breathing. A small part of Will recognizes that it probably shouldn’t be, but he doesn’t really care.
They sit on the floor in front of the couch with a vast assortment of junk food and just talk. They find things out about each other that are so mundane it’s hardly believable they didn’t know before. Suddenly, they’re more than just bodies, they have souls.
Nico reaches out and curls his pinky finger around Will’s.
“Just come with me. Come on tour with me. I’ll stow you away in the bus and we can just be together, you know?” He says it sadly, looking down at their hands. He knows it’s not really possible.
Will sighs, “I wish. I wish.”
Nico just bites his lip, lets out a shaky breath. “At least promise me that you’ll be here. You’ll be here.”
Will nods. He knows that Nico means, Tell me you won’t find someone better.
He lifts his hand a little, pulling Nico’s with it, “I pinky promise.”
Their laughter fills up the apartment, gives life to the walls, and when Will wakes up the next morning, Nico is curled up with his head in his lap. He closes his eyes once more and when he opens them again, it’s because of the soft press of lips against his own.
Feel free to copy and paste my summaries to other sites as
long as you give me credit. Please keep in mind when copying and pasting
that I may continue to correct errors and tweak details after it is posted.
Pg 1: This chapter begins where the last one ended, Urie
threw his quinque into Amon and remotely activated it, causing Amon to be
enveloped in Noro-like projections.
Pg 2: As the Q squad watches Amon, Urie notices that something
strange is going on. Amon falls to his knees and his body begins to erupt
Pg 3: Amon’s face is enveloped in a mutated kagune. His
appearance mirrors Eto when she is in her kakuja form (which makes sense considering
Amon was created using Yoshimura as a base) but his form is much more
distorted. Amon stares at Urie and Urie thinks that the others should get back.
Pg 4: Urie and Shao are suddenly struck by projectiles. They
fly backwards and as Urie falls to the ground he realizes that Amon is a kakuja
(meaning that he cannibalized ghouls). Shao falls near the injured Hige. Amon
turns his attention to them.
Pg 5: Hige rises to his feet and asks Aura for backup. Aura
says that his leg is broken. Hige asks how long it will take if he releases
higher frames (recall that the original Q squad were inhibited by different “frames”,
and if they wanted to alter them they needed to go into surgery. Hige indicates
that this second generation of Quinx are able to alter the frames themselves as
needed). Hige says that he’ll buy Aura three minutes. Hige asks Saiko and
Mutsuki for backup and releases a higher frame himself.
Pg 6: Hige extends a long kagune and wraps it around Amon’s
neck. He calls Mutsuki to attack.
Pg 7: Mutsuki releases two long tendrils and hits Amon on his
Pg 8: Amon grabs Hige and slams him into a wall at great
force. The others call out to him and Mutsuki is slammed as well.
Pg 9: An injured Mutsuki looks towards Urie. Urie wonders
what Hige meant by saying he would buy 180 seconds since he obviously wasn’t
able to. He thinks that he doesn’t need Aura’s backup and removes the projectile
from his stomach. He thinks that he wants to go home to the chateau with
Mutsuki together and gets to his feet.
Pg 10: Urie runs towards Amon screaming. Amon knocks him to
the ground. He grabs his quinque and allows his arm to surround it.
Pg 11: Urie and Amon scream and run at one another. Urie
swipes at Amon with his kagune while Amon stabs him with his quinque. Urie
falls to the ground, bloody.
Pg 12: Amon’s head emerges from inside his kakuja. He looks
up and sees a large kagune above him. Amon is crushed by Saiko’s gigantic
kagune and she tells him that she won’t let him kill Urie.
Pg 13: Saiko screams at Amon, asking him why he saved her
back then (from being eaten by Shikorae). Amon recalls facing Kaneki earlier,
both crying after eating Shinohara and crying during their first fight. He
tells Saiko that he thought it was the right thing to do. He tells her that
they are the meaningless words of a ghoul and that in this twisted world it’s
hard to tell the difference between what’s right and wrong.
Pg 14: He tells her that questioning whatever you’re doing, regardless
of whether it’s right or not, can be called doing right. Saiko begins to cry
and crushes him.
Pg 15: The scene changes, an announcement states that 98% of Aogiri was
annihilated, marking the end of the Rue Island operation. Kuramoto helps
Takeomi walk. Ui and Fura sit together smoking. Ui says that 98% is not enough
and the other 2% survived. Fura says that it can’t be helped since they weren’t
expecting the ghouls from the 20th ward to show up. The scene shifts
to Matsuri on the CCG’s boat. He announces the next mission, stating that
although they uprooted Aogiri Tree they face a new danger because Arima died
and Cochlea was breached.
Pg 16: Matsuri says that Haise Sasaki was the one who killed
Arima, who freed ghouls held in Cochlea, and declared himself to be the
One-Eyed King. Tsukiyama’s father and Chie Hori are shown waiting on the side of the island
for the ghouls to arrive. Nishio and Kuro arrive from Kanou’s lab with a
captured Roma. Tsuikiyama walks towards them, leading the White Suits, Miza,
and other hooded ghouls. He looks up and sees Tomoe, Takizawa, and Akira.
Matsuri also announces that Chief Yoshitoki (his father) was killed by a ghoul
on the ship (recall that Marude was the one to kill him). He says that Special
Class Marude threw himself into the sea, committing suicide (note that a
completely drenched Marude is shown walking with his shoes off).
Pg 17: Matsuri says that Yoshitoki wanted peace more than
any of his predecessors and was beloved by members of the bureau. He says that
he pledges to carry on his ideals as his son. Kanou is shown speaking to Kimi,
Nishio’s girlfriend, who is acting as his assistant. Matsuri thinks that he
will add a new character to his name. He thinks that he will find Marude
because he learned that the Washuu are ghouls and cannot be allowed to live. An
investigator approaches Matsuri and says that they have received a report from
Pg 18: Matsuri is told that the Chairman and the Washuu clan
have all been killed. Uta, Donato, and Furata are in the Chairman’s office, the
Chairman is shown with swords embedded in his face. Uta asks him if it’s okay
that he killed him considering he was his father. Furuta says that it’s okay
because he’s done playing investigator. He says that the clowns and V are in
his hands and refers to himself as the “Washuu King”.
The scar running across his cheek, identical to my own, but backwards. The thin one running above and slightly through my eyebrow, mirroring his. The tiniest one on his chin, matching mine. Everything he has been through is reflected on my face. Things I have no idea what they are. I don’t even know this boy. Great way to meet someone, right?
“Hi, I know we just met and all, but I think we might be soulmates and we’re cursed, but at least we don’t need to look anywhere else, right? So could you explain to me what the bloody hell you’ve been doing to yourself for the last nine years?”
Yeah, that’s a great way to start this off.
I look into his light brown eyes that have just a hint of gold circling the innermost part of his irises. And he smiles back at me, a little sadly.
There’s no way I can tell him right now. We just met. I don’t want to scare him.
After what was probably fifteen minutes or so of me sitting in silence, deciding what to say and thinking just so much, I feel a nudge on my elbow. I look up to see him smiling kindly at me again.
“Can I walk you to class?” he asks, and I feel my breath catch in my throat.
“Y-yeah, sure,” I stammer out in response, and his smile grows a little. He stands and offers a hand to help me up. I take it and it feels like electricity on our skin. And I know he feels it too, because his eyes snap up to meet mine. A smile creeps across my lips, and he pulls me gracefully up from the table, and he scoops up his stack of books, and then mine, placing them on top of his. He winks at me and begins walking toward the exit.
I quickly glance back at the others who are watching in awe, Lily with a knowing look on her face. I shrug at her slightly and quickly catch up to Remus.
He waits for me at the door, smiling, and casually leaning the side of his shoulder against the frame of the entryway.
“What class are you headed to?” he asks once I reach him.
“Transfiguration,” I reply, and reach a hand out to take my books back from him.
“I’ve got ‘em,” he says, smiling again, and turning to head off to the class. I laugh and shake my head, following after, easily keeping pace with him, despite his long legs. He’s probably taking shorter strides, because he knows how close the classroom is.
“So, (Y/N),” Remus begins after a few moments, as we make our way down the corridor, quickly approaching the door, “How is it that we’ve been at this school for going on six years, and we’ve never met before?”
I shrug slightly, eyeing the all-too-near entryway. “Maybe you just weren’t looking?”
He smirks a little. “Well, I am now,” he says as we stop in front of the door. He turns and looks at me. Just looks. For a few moments. I feel my cheeks blush under his gaze for what feels like the millionth time of the day. Eventually he hands my books back to me. And a wave of courage washes over me.
“What are you doing tonight?” I blurt out, and resist the urge to cover my mouth. But now it’s his turn to blush. He rubs the back of his neck, nervously.
“Er–nothing. At the moment,” he says, shrugging a little.
“Would you, maybe… want to, hang out? Talk? Study?” I ask more nervously than should ever be acceptable.
“I’d love to,” he says, visibly relaxing, and I do, too.
“Lovely,” and I’m in the classroom before another word is spoken, my heart rate through the roof, and I can’t help but wonder if his is, too.
We’re sitting in the Gryffindor common room, my potions book draped across my lap, and I’m avoiding leaning back against the couch to keep it from coming in contact with my still injured upper back. I’ve been here for half an hour, and we’ve barely said a word to each other, the tension in the room tangible. But not good tension. Awkward tension. It’s terrible. And I can’t bare it any longer.
We’re the only ones in the common room at this point, so I just blurt out, “Can I ask you something?”
He smiles at me and closes his book, “Of course.”
“Do you believe in fate? In soulmates?”
He grins again, a little sadly. “I don’t know if I do,” he replies. My heart sinks a little, and I’m sure it’s reflected in my face, because his turns to concern. “Do you?”
“I don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” I reply, turning back to my book.
“Why do you say that?” he asks, genuinely interested.
I sigh, “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m mad if I tell you.”
He laughs lightly, “I’m sure the things I could tell you would sound much crazier.”
“I doubt it.”
I sit quietly, curled up on the couch, as he paces back and forth in front of the fire, plagued by his thoughts. I can only imagine how he must be feeling. It took me nine years to adjust to the news. He’s barely had twelve minutes.
I told him. Everything. And he didn’t say a word. And he hasn’t said a word since. He just… paces.
After what feels like a century, he ceases and sits down across from me.
“Please say something,” I mutter, barely audible.
He takes a deep breath. “I… I always knew there was something more than… It sounds crazy, but I know it’s not. Because I’ve always had the feeling that it wasn’t just–” he cuts himself off.
“Wasn’t just what?” I ask.
He sighs, and runs his hands through his hair. “I have something I need to tell you, too. I think you need an explanation after nine years.”
I nod slightly, and he buries his face in his hands, pulling his thoughts together.
“I’m a werewolf,” he says, an admission to himself as well as to me.
And as shocking as the words should be, and as scared as I should be, I don’t feel a hint of surprise. In fact, I smile a little, “I think I knew that.”
His eyes snap up to meet mine, and his are filled with tears.
“How?” he asks.
“I mean, it makes sense. Once a month, and on the full moon, I wake up like I’ve been running through the woods or fighting with something…” and then a thought occurs to me. “That tearing feeling I get… that’s what it feels like when you… transform?”
He nods. And then sits taking it all in, and then a small smile creeps across his lips. “I knew it couldn’t all have been mine,” he mutters.
“Everything I felt,” he replies, crossing over to sit next to me.
I scoff slightly, “Oh please, I never get injured. There was nothing for you to feel!”
“We feel each other’s pain, love, not injuries. And I’m not the only one that has pains once a month.”
My jaw drops a bit as I realize what he means. “Well, congratulations, you are the one man on the planet who actually knows what menstrual cramps feel like.”
And then we’re both laughing. And I realize just how close together we are. I can almost feel the heat radiating from his skin. And then I remember something. “You called me ‘love.’”
“I did,” he says, blushing again.
“You do realize we met less than 24 hours ago.”
He sighs deeply, “We did. But if we are soulmates, and I feel that already, then what is the point in waiting, just because of the word?”
I know I’m smiling like a damn idiot, but I can’t help it.
He leans forward slightly, and it’s enough. I lightly wrap my hand around the back of his neck, and feel the electrical current between our skin. Our lips connect, and fireworks are not enough to describe the feeling. It’s an explosion. It’s a crashing tidal wave. It’s a supernova. It’s the moon and the stars and the sun and everything perfect in one kiss.
And I know that he’s right. It’s not too early to call this love.
When a planet is in retrograde, it appears to be spinning backwards. It affects the planet’s energy, turning the energies inward and making you feel it in an internal way. It affects each person differently, depending on their chart. If you were born during a planet’s retrograde, it will show on your chart. It will affect the planet and turn the energy inward. The planet may be uncomfortable or awkward to express. The Sun and Moon never retrograde, and Mercury and the outer planets go into retrograde more frequently.
To see if you have any planets in retrograde in your natal chart, do your birth chart here. Any planets with the backwards R next to it means it is in retrograde.
Venus and Mars are in retrograde 7-10% of the time. Mercury is frequently in retrograde.
Natal Mercury retrograde: Your humor is more quick and quirky. You have a unique thinking process and you always double check things. You always double check and review what you are going to say before you say it. You think abstractly and you question most everything.
Natal Venus retrograde: You take social situations very seriously and love is extremely important to you. You may have issues with self love or feel that you aren’t good enough or lovable enough. You may have been shy when you were younger, or felt awkward in social situations.
Natal Mars retrograde: You aren’t very good at standing up for yourself or asserting yourself. You let things build up and then you explode with anger, rather than dealing with them when they come along. You come on very strong and usually think of the better thing to say later when it’s no longer needed. You don’t like competition and you like to work by yourself and at your own pace.
The outer planets retrograde more frequently so they are more likely to be in retrograde in your chart.
Natal Jupiter retrograde: You make your own beliefs and morals, and they can be unusual to others. You learn from your own experience and for yourself. You love to plan, especially for the future. You worry about the future a lot, and you worry about your plans. You think about the consequences of your actions very often.
Natal Saturn retrograde: You feel self doubt and guilty a lot of the time. Your fears are internalized and you put on a brave front, as you hate to seem vulnerable. You have a big fear of letting people down and making poor choices. Lots of discipline or rules may make you feel trapped or uncomfortable. You may feel anxious or nervous in situations that require specific rules or etiquette. There may not have been a lot of discipline in your childhood.
Natal Uranus retrograde: You have a fear of change and don’t trust new patterns or technologies. You hide your quirks and personality. Even though you prefer to follow the rules, you may rebel or feel a pent up energy to rebel every once in a while.
Natal Neptune retrograde: You hate seeming vulnerable. You hide your spiritual side and your compassion or empathy. You feel uncomfortable letting that side of you show. You are very private and are naturally mistrustful. You expect the worst and don’t like expectations or big dreams because you are afraid of being let down.
Natal Pluto retrograde: You fear losing control or being controlled. You also fear betrayal and manipulation. You keep your fears to yourself, as you fear letting them be vulnerable. You have a desire for power and control, but don’t realize it.
6 years ago on June 24th 2010 I lost my older brother in an accident. Not many people know the story. It was late at night, around 10 PM and his Jeep broke down. He called his friend Scott for a ride. Scott had just gotten a new motorcycle and wanted to ride it, so that is what he took to pick up Jeremy. Over the previous week we had been having some of the worst thunderstorms that we had seen in years. Scott headed down the road, picked up Jeremy, and they started back home again. On their way home, however, as they rounded a corner, they were met with high-beam headlights of a car stopped in the middle of the road. A tree had fallen across the road and there was no way for Scott to stop in time. Scott ducked and he and the bike went under the tree. My brother Jeremy hit the tree and was thrown 20 ft backward. They both died that night. I miss my brother something terrible even to this day.
Why did I tell you this story, you might wonder? I’ll tell you why.
My tattoo symbolizes more than just my love for 10 silly men. When I first found Topp Dogg, I’ll admit, I wasn’t fond of Taeyang. I wasn’t fond of him because he reminded me so much of my older brother and I hated that. But as time went on, I felt a pull toward him. I couldn’t explain it. It was like every word he said, every laugh, every joke, every tear, every emotion was laced with Jeremy.
Taeyang means the world to me. He reminds me so much of my older brother. I lost Jeremy. I can’t lose Jenissi too.
You slowly opened your eyes, blinking the sleepiness away. Your eyes wandered around the room, up to the window. The sky was grey, and heavy drops of water clung to the glass. The soft pitter patter of the rain, and the overall darkness of the outside made you want to go to sleep again. You sat up yawning, stretching your arms high above your head.
Grumbling came from beside you. You looked over to the source of it. There, wrapped up in the messy sheets, was Loki. His hair was tousled, and his face tired. He held his arms open, expecting you to cuddle with him again. It was hard not to give in. You threw your legs out of the bed, determined to get up. Suddenly arms wrapped themselves around your waist and pulled you backwards until you were pressed against a warm body.
“Stay, love”, Loki mumbled, pressing light kisses onto your neck. You hummed, leaning against him. You decided to give him what he wanted, for now at least. He laid you down on your side, hugging your body close to him. When you first met Loki, you wouldn’t have guessed that he would be such a cuddler. But he was, and you weren’t complaining. He was adorable when he wanted a hug, or a kiss. His eyes would avoid yours for a split second before his gaze changed to that of a kicked puppy.
You laced your fingers with his, marvelling at the size of his hands in comparison to yours. After pulling your intertwined hands up to your mouth you pressed several kisses onto his fingers. A sigh brushed the back of your head, and then there was a kiss pressed onto it. Moments like these weren’t exactly rare, but you still cherished them. After all, you never knew what could happen.