crescent

fighting with your lover hurts but it’s what you do after that matters the most

Chris slides down the wall beside the bedroom door and hides his face in his hands. Guilt runs through him, immediately followed by anger and a despair so deep that it crawls from the core of his body into every inch and crevice of his body.

Those sobs break and only get louder and Chris hurts. He hurts and he’s angry and guilty and so very sad.

He knows he’s still angry about their fight, too, but that pales in comparison to having to hear the love of his life sobbing in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

Chris wants to heave up the feelings clogging up his throat and everything in his gut. Heat burns his eyes and a wailed crack tries to tear itself from his throat but he wipes furiously at his eyes and swallows down hard.

He gets up, then; Chris pulls on his coat and shoes and heads out into the night.

It’s nearing the hour but the flower shop on the corner is still open. He goes in and takes a look at all the arrangements.

He makes it back home fifteen minutes later with a dozen of Phichit’s favorite pastries and two bouquets, one a batch of red roses and the other a batch that say in flower language “i love you more than anything else in the world, I’m so sorry”.

At least, that’s what he hopes it means. Flower language was more of Viktor’s specialty.

He can still hear Phichit crying when he enters, though it’s not as loud as before. He stops to listen, see if maybe Phichit is done, but, no - Phichit is dry heaving now, gasping for breath, softer now as if trying to muffle himself.

The fractures in Chris’ soul crack all the more and he shuts his eyes tight, breathes in through his mouth to push down the guilty vomit.

He sets out cutting the stems of both bouquets once he’s in the kitchen. The roses he puts in a vase on the coffee table, and the other he preps for a smaller vase, though he doesn’t put them in there yet. He instead ties them with a silver-red bow.

He starts a pot of hot water and prepares Phichit’s favorite tea next, and sets Phichit’s favorite mug on the coffee table with the roses and the pastries. The water finishes boiling and he sets the tea leaves into the kettle, pours the water in, and sets the kettle on a mat on the coffee table, too.

Phichit’s heaves, quieter now, cut through the quiet and it’s then Chris decides that it is time. He puts a fluffy blanket on the couch and, with the bouquet in hand, cautiously approaches the door.

Guilt claws up his insides again with its icy sharp claws and it’s only with the impulse he gained from Phichit that he shuts his eyes tight and - sighs.

“My love.” Chris calls softly, setting his fingertips on the door.

He doesn’t go in, not when he isn’t sure if he should. Phichit’s heaves are smothered immediately, as if he put his hand over his mouth.

The mere thought makes Chris’ heart break.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” Chris says instead, voice quiet and apologetic, thick with emotion. He presses his hand fully on the door and, after hearing no response, loses the tension in his shoulders and opens his eyes half-mast, letting his forehead fall onto the door.

“I’m so sorry for what I said,” Chris continues, just as quiet as before, “and I’m so sorry for fighting. The last thing I ever wanted to do is hurt you, and I did exactly that tonight.” He tries to see through the door, wanting desperately to see Phichit’s face.

“I love you, my darling, so very much, and I am so sorry I hurt you.”

There’s a choked intake of breath on the other side, quiet but there, and Chris’ fingers curl against the door.

He desperately wants to make this right, to help Phichit feel better.

“Can we talk?” he whispers. It came out needier than he’d ever admit. “Please?”

Maybe it’s his voice, or the words he’d said, but Phichit chokes on a sob and inhales deep, as if trying to stall another. The bed springs creak with movement and there’s a soft padding of feet on their carpet as he approaches the door.

Chris isn’t prepared for when Phichit cracks open the door. His love’s face is red, eyes puffy and watery pink. Water from his tears had stained his flushed cheeks and glistened on his skin.

Chris had done this.

“Mon petit chou…” Chris whispers.

Phichit opens the door more and Chris’ arms immediately open to bring him in. Phichit presses his face hard into his chest and wraps his arms around Chris’ waist just as Chris does the same with him.

“I’m sorry.” Phichit mumbles into Chris’ shirt. “I hurt you too and I am so sorry.”

“We both said hurtful things.” Chris has to press his mouth quick into Phichit’s hair to keep his own mouth from trembling. He waits for the urge to cry to pass. “Let’s go to the sofa, d'accord?”

Phichit nods.

They sit on the cushions, piping hot cups of tea in hand, facing each other. Phichit’s cocooned himself in the fuzzy blanket, staring down into the depths of his tea, nibbling on a pastry.

They talk for hours that night, gently repairing the damage they’d both wrought, easing their way back into how they’d been before - and yet, somehow, completely different. Stronger.

The first one to wake the next morning is Chris. He comes to with Phichit curled on his chest, covered in that fuzzy blanket, the last pastry half-eaten on the table with the bouquet right beside it.

He smiles and closes his eyes. All is better in the world.

fake dating au

Phichit has no idea what’s happening, or even why it’s happening, but Chris is kissing him and he kinda likes it.

His mouth is soft, just like his hair when Phichit reaches up to cup his neck, and when Phichit starts to reciprocate because “that’s what you do in this situation, right? maybe?”, Chris lets out this little growly purr that makes Phichit’s knees weak and his body run hot.

It’s over before long, and when they break apart Chris looks at him and grins. Phichit has whiplash, his head is spinning and his knees wobble until all he sees are the multi-colored strobe lights and the heat in Chris’ eyes. 

His hand is still curled around Chris’ nape, and maybe that’s doing something to him because he hasn’t taken Phichit’s hand off yet, but Chris leans forward again and parts his mouth and Phichit is sure he’s going to kiss him again when, suddenly, he hears Viktor whistle.

They turn to look. Viktor is waving them over, a shine in his eyes that tells Phichit that Viktor saw exactly what they did.

“We found a table!” Viktor shouts, his voice unheard over the noise, grinning like he discovered a secret. Technically, he did. 

Phichit blushes and removes his hand from Chris’ neck. They both give a thumbs up and continue to dance, now a little more apart than before.

“Do I get to know why?” Phichit asks, not wanting to see the look on Chris’ face.

“You’ll find out.” Chris promises. Phichit turns to call him out on his cryptic bullshit but Chris is suddenly very, very close and looking at him with those eyes. Phichit’s weak all over again, parting his mouth just in case Chris decides to kiss him again - which is stupid of Phichit and he knows this, but he’s also a little drunk on the punch and the heat between them and doesn’t want to separate.

It’s all he can focus on. The adrenalized pounding of his heart, the mouth so close to his, the way those eyes look at him, Phichit’s addicted and maybe he wants Chris to kiss him again.

Phichit smirks a little. “You have me play along but don’t even tell me why? Tut tut Chris.” And maybe it’s a little bit unfair but he links his hands behind Chris’ neck and idly runs his fingers through the hair on his nape, not missing the shiver that runs through Chris’ spine.

Chris licks his lips, wets them; his gaze is suddenly hyper-focused on Phichit’s mouth and then his eyes and Phichit’s immediately giddier than he’d already been. And maybe it’s a bit of a cheapshot, but Chris had already pulled one so Phichit tilts his head and slowly, slowly swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, watching Chris’ eyes follow it.

Chris’ answering grin is downright diabolical and sexy, Phichit will be the first to admit, with a hint of teeth and a curl to his smirk that suggests things. Delightful things. “They have to see us together.” Chris outright purrs, hand twitching on Phichit’s waist. He has never felt more powerful. "We need to put the idea in their heads, don’t we?" 

Ah, yes. Right. It wasn’t real. Nothing’s real. 

Phichit hums along, ignoring how that power in his chest deflates. He knew it wasn’t real but, boy, does he wish. He wishes and prays and craves.

"I think they may need more convincing” is what Phichit wants to say, but what comes out instead is a smile and “Do you think they bought it?”

“Maybe…” Chris’ green eyes darken into a heat that pools low in Phichit’s gut and that tiny, itty bitty annoying flare of hope springs up again, despite how hard Phichit’s warring with it. “But we may need to do it again once or twice.”

Family Feud thread: https://twitter.com/viktorbunny/status/930481782302101504

Headcanon: Otabek is very very very bad at jokes and he can’t understand most of Yuri’s jokes, but he always laughs as if he understands. He laughs for Yuri

remember when that scenes just appeared in canon and u just

Osamu Dazai • Dead Apple Trailer

Official trailer for Bungou Stray Dogs Dead Apple

[ DEAD APPLE ]

At any minor inconvenience

The story of my life 😂

I was on the subway today, and when the train got delayed, this little kid was like, “fuck,” and a literal chorus of grown-ups went: “HEY.”

let him say fuck

I was at a crossing once and a kid’s dad said ‘and we have to wait for the green man’ and the 30 people on this crossing all stood waiting for the green man just to prove to this kid that that’s what you do. I’ve never seen anyone wait for the green man on this crossing before you just go when its clear. But Everyone Waited. 

Reversely, when I once crossed the road when the light was still red, a group of little kids booed at me.