Best Friends with the 97 line [Seventeen]

GENRE: drabble, fluff, best friend!au, non-famous

REQUEST: Your bestfriend! Wonwoo&hoshi is sooo cute, can i req bestfriend!97 liner?? THANK YOU, YOU ROCK!!! :)))

gif cred

  • Okay how you even became friends with these three very different boys no one will really know
  • hell you dont really know
  • like, mingyu was that snotty kid who ran around sticking boogers on everyone in pre-K and you were the only one who would get close to him
  • Because your mama told you to love everybody
  • and you got nicknamed “Kootie Kid” because of it
  • you two stuck close to each other all through elementary school because, well, cooties
  • and mingyu was super nice sharing with you animal crackers for lunch
  • and sometimes he’d give you a bit of his popsicle
  • then in elementary school this other rly weird kid joined you two
  • and he liked to smile alot
  • like he smiled at everYTHING
  • but no one rly liked him because he was like super sensitive and would start crying when no one wanted to play with him on the playground
  • he would look so sad??? because he’s usually smiling and laughing but that day it was just so :( to see him crying in a corner all by himself
  • so you two went over to him
  • and you were like “Wanna play with us? nobody likes us either”
  • Elementary school kids are mean
  • his name was seokmin and when his momma realized he had friends she would organize playdates and pack yall food because omg my baby finally has friends
  • and mingyu and seokmin loved to do stupid boy things like race each other to the top of trees
  • or see who can hang upside on the monkey bars the longest
  • and you’re like “bros yall gonna get hurt”
  • but they dont listen to you
  • and you run after them because you know one of them will fall or break an arm or sth and youre like the personal assistant who has to patch them up
  • but that one time seokmin fell and cut his knee instead of laughing mingyu yelled at you like “Y/N get me some plasters!!!! and some water!!! quick!!!!”
  • because he knew you didnt like blood
  • so he cleaned up the wound while you scolded that dummy
  • and seok’s sniffling and stuff but mingyu’s done in a jiff and thereby appoint him the group medic
  • so like through elementary school and middle school you guys were known as the three musketeers and did everything together
  • did projects together
  • got in trouble together
  • even dressed up as the three musketeers for halloween at some point
  • oh and that one time seokmin didnt know how to ride a bike and you two taught him
  • he wouldnt stop hugging you guys when he figured it out
  • and in summer you would ride your bikes to the ice cream place and mingyu would buy you two ice cream
  • and in return seokmin would make his mom give you food
  • and you feel like a potato because you dont really do anything but the two of them are like
  • “No y/n, you are so important to us”
  • Mingyu:*nodding* i woudnt have any friends in pre-k if you werent afraid of getting cooties
  • Seokmin: and i wouldnt have any friends in elementary school if you two didnt talk to me
  • and you’re so touched awwww these two punks appreciate you
  • so high school comes around and you’re scared cuz you know what people say abt high school it tears people apart
  • but mingyu and seokmin stuck closer to you than ever
  • mingyu would sit on your right and seokmin on your left in every class you shared tgt
  • and in art class
  • you’re great at art btw
  • but in art class mingyu would like show you his paintings
  • “Y/N is it good?”
  • “Um…. what’s that supposed to be?”
  • “ITS YOU! I DREW!!!!”
  • and seokmin would laugh hard af
  • because i looks nothing like you
  • and you’re hitting mingyu on his arm and he’s like “WHAT WHAT ITS BEAUTIFUL!!?!?!?”
  • its literally a blob of beige with back eyes and string for hair
  • and amidst the fighting and the laughing courtesy of seokmin you three kinda mess up the art room
  • and get sent to detention
  • “Y/N……” mingyu pouts
  • “Y/NNN” seokmin calls
  • but you ignore them
  • “Y/N!!!!!!!” they say together
  • “WHAT!”
  • “We’re sorry” :(
  • “So very sorry”
  • “We’ll make it up to you!!
  • “How?”
  • and they do all the cleaning that you were supposed to do for the teachers
  • actually mostly mingyu did but seokmin helped by bringing you drinks and all omg they treat you so well
  • so halfway through the year this new student comes and he has no friends right
  • his name’s minghao
  • and he’s struggling with his korean and he’s super quiet all the time
  • one time seokmin was telling this rly stupid joke and you three passed by the table he was at
  • and he kinda looked up at you guys all longingly
  • and you felt so SAD
  • so you went over and sat your tray on the table
  • “Can we sit here?” you smile
  • he looks up, startled. “Y-yeah, s-sure”
  • omg he’s so scared and nervous like what are these three really cool kids doin here talking to me??????
  • but you’re just doing your thing you know, taking in kids who got left behind
  • and seokmin’s smiles and mingyu’s dorkiness puts him at ease instantly
  • and in that one lunch minghao was already opening up to you guys and became the fourth musketeer of your little gang
  • every day they would meet you at the bustop to walk into school because they each came on different transportation and from different parts of the town
  • “But we want to face every single day of high school with you”
  • like wtf boys why are you so cheesy bt it makes your heeart melt anyway
  • And they’re so different right
  • but somehow you all four just clicked
  • mingyu grew out of his awkward puberty boy stage and fucking gloed up and suddenly all those kids in pre-k that shied away from him suddenly want to be his friend
  • but youre like “surprise muthafucka i got there first”
  • and seokmin discovered his talent for singing and you three would go support him at every talent show
  • and those kinds in elementary school are so shook 
  • like yes smiley, sensitive kid is going places where will YOU be ten years from now
  • and youve been helping minghao with his korean right
  • and he’s sooo cute
  • omg
  • like he once asked what the word for dragonfly is
  • and the way he said it was so cute??
  • you felt like you were teaching your little brother or sth
  • but underneath all aegyo he’s also so savage and smart and sassy
  • Mingyu: *while cooking you guys dinner* are tomatoes vegetables?
  • Minghao: they’re fruits you friggin nugmud do you learn nothing in school they have seeds they are frUITS I LEARNT THIS BACK IN CHINA WHEN I WAS STILL IN MY MOTHER’S WOMB WHERE HAVE U BEEN
  • Mingyu: okay…….. but what about chilli?
  • Minghao: is it possible to leave this room the way i leave group chats
  • they love to fight with each other but you know its just for fun :”)
  • “mingyu and i have a very close friend relationship”
  • ahhhhhh and like even though high school is so tough and friendships break you guys stayed strong through the four years
  • and at graduation
  • like abunch of girls wanted to take photos with them because they had basically blossomed into the most popular kids in school
  • but they only saw you
  • the friend who stuck by them through all those awkward years
  • and they wanted to spend time with onlyy you
  • so they took you out to lunch and dinner and even managed to stuff down supper courtesy of mingyu
  • and brought you to watch a scary movie and let you snuggle in their jackets when it got too scary
  • and karaoke booth where seokmin was showing off his high notes and mingyu and minghao were having a rap battle
  • and they wouldnt stop treating you????? you’re like “boys why are you so nice to me today???”
  • because normally they’d be teasing you or sth for being scared of horror shows
  • and they’re like “because we want to thank you”
  • “we would never have been able to make this journey without you”
  • and years later you guys are still in contact and youve all gotten married with kids
  • And you still cant believe you get to call these amazing boys your best friends

anonymous asked:

50 60 70 110!

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?
Grey! Wearing the hooding from the college I go to!

60. Ever won a competition? For what?
By myself? Don’t think so?? I have a pretty bad memory. 
My marching band won every competition, including states and nationals, my sophomore year so that was nice hahaha

70. Names of your bestfriends?
Well, I have a lot of really close friends. Just to name a couple, my boi Seabass, Maddie @maddieprobably, Sarah @sassy-synth, Dani @pirouettes-and-paradiddles, and my friends Jose, Brianna, and Kayla, as well. I have a lot more too hahah

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?
Yes. Right now. Lmao

Thank you kind anon! You da best!! (Send me more hahah)

Nothing made me feel more alive than your fingertips against my skin.
—  You ignite me in flames
Conobbi una ragazza che mi regalò il suo diario.

Era la “straniera”, l’ultima arrivata, eppure dalla prima volta che la vidi riconobbi i suoi lineamenti, senza però ricordare dove l’avessi già conosciuta. Al Liceo era quella più conosciuta di tutti perché si vestiva in modo diverso, alternativo. “Sara”, il suo nome, era sulla bocca di tutti: mora, alta e talmente magra da sembrare anoressica. Frequentava il mio stesso corso di lettere e, non era la migliore della classe. Suonava la campanella dell’ 1.35 quando cominciò a vomitare in aula dall’ultimo banco. La professoressa ci fece uscire tutti prima che riuscissimo a vedere cosa succedesse. All’ultimo, notai che non c’era ne un odore acre, ne il classico odore del vomito. Solo un intenso odore di ferro.

In nessuna delle due settimane che vennero vidi Sara. Rimasi con i miei compagni a sentire ogni genere di pettegolezzo su di lei. “Sara la stramba”. “Sara la Vomitatrice”. “Sara mingherlina”. “Sara la Straniera”. Tutto girava intorno a lei, alla sua reputazione, al suo nome.

Passò all’incirca un mese quando tornò a scuola. La trovai in segreteria, quella all’ingresso della scuola dove la corrente provocata dalle finestra aperte è sempre presente, che consegnava un foglio spiegazzato, un certificato medico. Arrivò una folata di vento e il foglio, che Sara aveva riposto sopra il banco, volò sotto ai miei piedi. Lo raccolsi..

“Signorina Sara D**** . Nata il 10-01-1996 a ******. Ricoverata in ospedale causa malattia. Durata soggiorno: un mese e dieci giorni in reparto pneumologia. Firmato_ Camatti, pneumologo.”, lessi.

Camatti . Il mio cognome è Camatti. Mio padre è un pneumologo. Mio padre parla spesso di una ragazza ricoverata nel suo reparto quando torna a casa. Una certa ragazza di nome Sara, figlia di un amico di papà: Claudio, tornata a casa dopo essere andata via per anni in cerca di una cura in Inghilterra. Ho sempre cercato di scoprire qualcosa in più su questa ragazza, la sua storia mi ricordava qualcuno ma mio padre non ha mai voluto parlarmene. Alzai lo sguardo e porgendogli il foglio con tremore, incrociai il suo sguardo. “Sara” sussurrai. Impossibile, Sara è morta due anni fa. Poi, sorrise.

Tornai a casa su tutte le furie. Chiesi spiegazioni che non ricevettero risposta. Cominciai a urlare. Sentii mia madre che mi avvolgeva nel suo caldo abbraccio. Ricevetti risposte, ricevetti spiegazioni. La notte non dormii.

“Tesoro, Sara doveva andare a Londra. Il Guy’s Hospital era l’unico che potesse curarla. Non voleva recare nessun problema a nessuno. Era necessario. Quando ti avevamo detto che era morta, è perché Sara lo sarebbe stata entro pochi giorni. La tubercolosi stava progredendo e gli antibiotici non avevano nessun effetto: era chiara la situazione! Fu l’ultimo giorno in cui ricevemmo sue notizie: Claudio non si fece più sentire e si trasferì a Dublino. E solo qualche mese fa tuo padre si è ritrovato Sara in reparto e…” Le parole di mio padre interruppero il discorso di mia madre: “ E mi assalì pregandomi di ascoltarla e di giurare di aspettare per raccontarti la verità: voleva che la riconoscessi da sola.” Le 2:00. Mi addormentai.

Passai gli ultimi sei anni con lei. Mi raccontò i suoi viaggi, la sua lotta in ospedale, la vita di suo padre. Venne a vivere da noi e occupò la stanza di mia sorella, che in quel periodo era in Canada per la laurea. Lo scaffale dei medicinali era stracolmo dei suoi antibiotici che non riuscivo mai a memorizzare poiché cambiavano ogni giorno. Alcune mattine, trovai in bagno gocce di sangue e, dopo cinque di quelle mattine, Sara tornò in ospedale; questa volta ci rimase per un bel po’ di tempo.

10 gennaio 2014 “Auguri Sara!”. Urla. Battiti di mani. Musica. Ed eccola tutta sorridente mentre spegne le sue 18 candeline su una torta al cioccolato. Alla fine della serata, quando tutti gli invitati tornarono a casa, Sara tossì, poi svenne. Arrivò l’ambulanza. Aspettai sette ore nella sala dell’ospedale insieme a mia madre. Un infermiera arrivò e con un gesto dolce, mi portò davanti ad una porta. Entrai. Sara era distesa su un lettino, con un sondino, un catetere attaccato alla pancia. Una flebo era collegata al suo braccio con un ago che si intravedeva anche sotto-pelle. Mi sorrise, cercando di nascondere l'evidente dolore che stava provando ancora una volta.. era abituata a situazioni del genere. Mi parlò tanto di questi momenti e la maggior parte delle volte mi disse che non avrei mai dovuto abbattermi di fronte ad ogni difficoltà. Nello stesso momento in cui mi avvicinai al letto, mi porse un oggetto, un pacchetto. Con una mano le presi la sua e con l’altra presi il regalo. “Auguri” c’era scritto sulla carta da regalo. Ma io avrei dovuto compiere gli anni l’11. Guardai l’orologio: 00.00. Oh, auguri a me. Non mi è mai importato dei compleanni e gli ultimi non sono stati decisamente i migliori che io abbia mai passato. Mi sedetti, scartai il regalo. Era un libro. Oppure un quaderno? Lo riconobbi: era il suo diario. Lo portava sempre con lei, in qualsiasi occasione, in qualsiasi momento. Non ricordo un giorno in cui non la vidi senza. Toccai la copertina, feci scorrere le dita sulla copertina di cuoio. Slegai il cordino che faceva da chiusura. Lo aprii: “Per Carolina”. Una frase che fu scritta in bella calligrafia in un corsivo sicuro e uniforme. La sua scrittura. Era per me.

Voltai pagina e la guardai. “Grazie” le dissi, con le lacrime agli occhi. Non si girò, non aprì gli occhi, non mi degnò di uno sguardo. Si era addormentata. Staccai la mano dalla sua. Le tirai un pugnetto sulla gamba per sbegliarla. Niente. Riprovai, niente. Andai nel panico, cercai un’infermiera ma non vidi nessuno. Vidi un telefono, chiamai il numero delle segreteria dell’ospedale scritto in bella calligrafia sopra ad un mobiletto. Riattaccai; un’infermiera sarebbe arrivata a momenti. Girai lo sguardo e dalla porta entrò una donna bassa con un camice verde. Andò vicino ad una macchina, la fissò e solo dopo mi guardò con uno sguardo strano, pieno di amarezza e compassione. Lo fissai, da lontano, da dietro di lei: era un elettrocardiogramma.

Sullo schermo solo una linea dritta, nessuna onda, nessuno sbalzo. Solo una fottutissima linea dritta. Mi accasciai contro il muro e cominciai a piangere. L’ infermiera spense ogni macchinario, le tolse il sondino, la flebo, tutto. Non ressi la scena e spostai il mio sguardo sul diario, aperto. Il SUO diario, l’unica cosa che mi rimase di lei. Cercai di leggere le sue parole. “Cara Carolina, probabilmente se hai questo diario è perché non ce l’ho fatta. Prima di tutto, voglio ringraziarti. Non dico di non piangere, ma non disperare: devi sapere che sei stata la sorella che non ho mai avuto, la migliore amica che possa aver mai desiderato. Ti ho visto appena nata all’inizio e maggiorenne alla fine. Devi sapere che ho sempre saputo di avere i giorni contati e che ho previsto di darti questo diario proprio qui, in ospedale. L’ospedale ha permesso un eccezione, mi ha permesso di vederti anche il mio ultimo giorno. Devi sapere che quando sono andata via il mio ultimo sguardo è stato rivolto a te. Le prossime pagine sono tutte le lettere che non ti ho mai inviato, tutte le cose non dette o dimenticate, i nostri momenti. Ricorda, ti voglio bene e te ne vorrò sempre.”


He really fucked her up. She gets anxiety attacks every time she thinks about how he whispered in her ears loving things but do the same with someone else behind her back. She was happy, she thought she was completely done for. Everyone whispered when she walked by but she didn’t paid attention because he was holding her hands. His skin on hers was all she could ever think about. She was too busy enjoying him to care about anything else. What a fool she was… A fool for him. She allowed her feelings for him to twist the reality of how shitty of a person he is. She knows better now. She won’t let anyone hurt her like that ever again. Her guard is high and she doesn’t see it coming back down anytime soon.
—  An excerpt from a book that I’ll never write (1)
I like a lot of people, but my favorite are the ones who stay. The ones who you give a million reasons to leave and they find the one to stay. The ones who won’t leave you even if they know they should, because they care. They care so fucking much, and it kills them, but they won’t ever dare abandon you. They won’t ever, because they know better than anyone the feeling of being left when you need someone the most. So here’s to the ones that stay.
—  Stay.