The Fighter ; 2MIN ; PG-13 [ONESHOT]
Title: The Fighter
Author: twenty3eleven
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama Sport (is this even a genre… lol)
Pairings: 2min
Word count: 2,642
Summary: The boxing ring was Minho’s source of bread and butter to provide for him & Taemin. But Taemin wished all these wouldn’t happen in the first place.
A/N: HAIII :D Idea was originally justangel’s, so kinda adopted it since it’s too good to not be written ;_; I twisted the plot slightly to suit my liking, so I hope you like it I guess? Description of the match was a little meh, as I followed a little from Million Dollar Baby :\
The bright spotlight was on Minho the moment he stepped into the hall. The place was already brimmed with spectators, bodies positioned towards where he was to welcome him with a roaring cheer. Once the magnificent ring came into view, Minho knew then that he could not turn back. Not any time now.
With a towel slung across the back of his neck and dressed in a simple grey T-shirt and a pair of washed out basketball shorts (he unfortunately, does not own a pair appropriate for boxing), he was led into the great hall by the referee. A silver whistle was held between the referee’s teeth, blowing on it to signal near him to create a path for him to walk through.
Minho lowered his head down; the spotlight was far too bright that he had to squint through to see where he was heading. It was not for the rough yet gentle hand of the referee’s pressed against his shoulder to guide him through the crowd and towards the ring.
He climbed up onto the raised platform, settling himself inside the ring along with the referee. There, the cheers just got louder than before, the rumpus was getting a little too chaotic, assuming that the match was about to start soon. For the first time, Minho glanced at his opponent standing on the opposite corner of the ring.
This man was presumably taller than him by an inch or so, and of a bigger build too. Judging by his tough expression on his face, with eyes already alive and set on fire and clenched fists stiffened by his side, he was ready in a position to fight. Minho sensed that aura and that characteristic look on his face; he had seen too many times before in the twenty-something matches he had participated.
His opponent was some fearless bastard, all ready to go in for the kill to bring Minho down in one swipe.
He drew in a huge breath as the nerves were starting to tighten in his body and let out a sigh. While the referee was standing in the middle of the square ring and about to commence the start of the match, Minho scanned the crowd briefly and found the face he was looking for.
He stood motionless amongst the chaotic crowd who were up cheering loudly; so still and small that he could go undetected so easily. Brown doe eyes staring back at Minho, filled with nothing and expressionless, but then again Minho knew that look as well. He did not miss the slightest lines of worry etched in his features as he still maintained the gaze on Minho.
Right then and there, Minho wanted to step down into the crowd and hug the living hell out of the boy, to stop worrying for him just for a while, but it was too late. Instead, the corners of his lips rose into a reassuring smile to the other that he was going to do just fine.
That smile faded into a tight and straight line as Minho faced his opponent once again, mentally preparing himself for the match that was either going to make or break him hard. He silently prayed that the mighty Gods were looking down on him, watching his every step and move, to give him the strength and willpower he needed to last through the match.
That is if he did.
~;~
“Life across the river is a luxury.”
The two boys sat near the river bank, side by side, on a late weekday afternoon. It was close to dusk; the sky was painted in pink oyster hues and the sun was hidden behind skyscrapers situated across the river bank, signalling the end of the day. They had just finished riding their bicycles around the town, and came to this river to take a short break.
Minho shifted his gaze towards Taemin, the boy next to him. The latter had his eyes fixed straight ahead, crinkling below the warm orange rays, as he appeared deep in his own thoughts. Minho noticed that little smile playing on his plush plump lips and slowly nudged the other by the shoulder.
Taemin glanced at Minho, breaking out of his little reverie while at the same time, cocking his head to the side in a playful manner.
“Have you ever wondered about how life is like across the river bank?”
Minho pondered for a while, while still maintaining eye contact with Taemin. “I think about it sometimes. Why?”
“Nothing,” Taemin replied after a moment’s hesitation before looking back at the perfect outline of the skyscrapers in the background. The concrete jungle was drowned in the shadow of the long rays of the setting sun, but to Taemin, it still looked beautiful and perfect as before. “I’ve always wondered how much our lives would change if we live there.”
“Think about it, Minho. We don’t have to dig through trashcans or steal leftovers for food. We don’t even have to use the underpass as one of our temporary homes. Oh, and we’ll be wearing nice suits too…” Taemin took a brief glance at the remaining clothes he was wearing: some dingy little cloth made into T-shirt and pants. Minho was wearing more or less the same thing as him. The thought of their unfortunate living conditions made Minho frown.
The country divided its people into two large divisions: basically the city and the slums. The economic margins that divided the status of the people were too wide, for the rich were being far too rich and the poor was well, too poor.
What separated these two distinct areas was just a stretch of a river. It was even widely protected by the coastal guards, keeping on a lookout for fearless villagers swimming across in order to make a living. “The land of opportunities”, as many would name it. Unfortunately, many were caught for the past years and sentenced into prison. Rules were stringent ever since, and many did not dare or think of venturing further than they were right now.
But people could still dream, couldn’t they?
“Don’t worry, Minho,” Taemin continued, heaving a huge sigh as he brought his legs together close to his chest, laying his chin on top of his knees. “We’ll make it big someday and cross to the other side.”
Gently placing his head onto Minho’s shoulder, nuzzling a little before closing his eyes, Taemin basked in the warm feeling Minho had upon him. The tiredness of riding the bicycle all over the slums had worn him out, along with that little grumble his stomach made from the lack of food. But he ignored it, because he was used to the empty feeling. Minho’s warmth had this magic of chasing the grumbly devils away.
Minho on the hand, had his mind far away from where he was now. The younger’s words, even though they were spoken so casually and lightly, seemed to plant deep in his head, repeating over and over again. Somehow his subconscious was urging him to do something.
As a light breeze passed and played with the wisps of Taemin’s blonde locks, Minho stared down lovingly at this boy, with his hand stealthily sweeping back the messy locks into place.
Do you love him, Minho?
He did not need to ask that question to know the answer.
~;~
The clear silver sound of the bell was rung, commencing the start of the match. Minho eyed his opponent with fierce narrow eyes, with hands buried in boxing gloves clutched in front of his face and body positioned to fight. The opponent had yet made a move; he was looking out for Minho’s weaknesses where he second guessed himself. From the likes of it, he was a little inexperienced and from there, he could bring him down in one second flat.
Legs shifted on one and then another, as both of them went a full circuit around the ring and back. One step closer towards each other and finally, the opponent brought a quick jab to Minho. Minho fearlessly blocked it with his gloves, along with a quick duck of the head.
Move to the left, push on the right toe. Remember the footwork, keep the momentum going, Minho told himself. The opponent was what Minho had imagined: fearless and strong. He could feel the adrenaline coming from that man, for he was throwing punches, both short and quick, sparing no expense to retract to collect himself.
Taemin stood with careful and worried eyes, watching Minho’s every move in the boxing ring. His body was slowly drowned by the immense crowd around him, but it did not bother him at all. He was just looking out for Minho and never taking his eyes off him. He could not afford to miss anything.
Fierce blows crunched into Minho’s face; the deep crimson red viscosity slowly dripping from his nose. It did not help the situation when the opponent was already packing in more punches to his face and body. Instead of fighting back like what he was supposed to, he was now protecting himself.
There was no point in listening out for movement when Minho knew he was at the losing end. Cheeks were bruised to its limits when fists connected with the muscled flesh, causing Minho to stagger backwards and in the end, fell like a drunken transient.
10… 9… 8…
Fight back, Minho! Stand up, you fool!
Fear’s alarm bell rang shrilly, as Taemin gasped. The sight in front of him clutched his chest cavity into a constricting hold.
Exhausted arms were at its last attempt to lift his body up, but there was no ounce of energy left.
His body had given up.
Minho was a mangled heap on the floor as the referee above him counted down to the last second. The cheers were amplifying a hundred times than before. Taemin stood motionless with mounting panic as the crowd cheered on.
5… 4… 3… 2…
Defeat was staring right in his face.
~;~
The locker room was empty, except for a lone fighter sitting on a long wooden bench into a hunched posture of utter dejection. He hung his head in shame; disappointment washed over him in huge tidal waves. The roaring and joyous cheers of the blazing crowd could still be heard from the locker room, and it frustrated Minho more.
He could see it clearly: the jeers the spectators would give and the sickening smug face of his opponent as he yelled out his victory. Defeat was definitely laughing and mocking at him right now.
Stupid boy. Are you that silly to sign up for this event? You’re just a novice!
From outside, as the celebration still continued on despite the end of the match, Taemin pushed through the crowd and towards the entrance where Minho came out earlier. He had seen Minho’s defeated expression as he made through the walk of shame with the remaining energy left in him, towards the locker rooms. Minho was in no position to be left alone at a time like this.
Why were you so stupid, love? Taemin’s mind screamed to no one, as his mind raced to where Minho was.
His legs sped against time, trying his best to find Minho, as he searched in the many rooms along the long corridor.
Until he spotted a figure on a wooden bench with his head buried in his hands, and quietly paused by the door frame. He could recognise that brown messy hair and physique; he had known that for many years now.
Taemin slowly walked up to the figure, hoping to not disturb any solitary moment that the latter wished for right now. Even so, Taemin was just so concerned about him. He had every right to.
Slipping onto the bench beside Minho as quietly as possible, he scooted closer and waited. However, Minho had already sensed a presence beside him even before Taemin stepped into the room. His head turned slightly towards this presence, and without a glance at his face he turned back and stared down onto the cold tiled floor.
“Minho,” Taemin’s voice came out like a whisper; gentle and soft whilst it sounded so beautifully in Minho’s ears. “Are you alright there?”
Taemin examined his profile from the side: sun-kissed skin slicked with sweat, blood and dried tear tracks. The blood however, had dried up and transformed into maroon coloured clumps, leaving a trail down his nose and ending at the curve of his jaw. His cheek was swollen and bruised from the harsh impact from the punch earlier on.
Even though how battered and bruised he looked, Taemin could not deny that he still looked gorgeous as ever. But no matter how gorgeous he seemed at that point of time, Taemin’s heart clenched tightly at the sight of him so small and vulnerable like this.
Without a word or permission granted, he grabbed the towel from the other side of Minho, and gently dabbed a small part of the cloth to Minho’s nose. However, the flinch of the contact could be read in many ways: either Minho did not want him there, or his wounds were hurting him so badly. But either way, it caused small tears to edge out of Taemin’s eyes.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Taemin continued dabbing and cleaning the wounds on his faces, and much to his surprise, Minho did not respond negatively towards his actions.
While doing so, Taemin took note of Minho’s tiny changes in expressions, or any signs if he was comfortable to talk to him. Anything, just as long as Minho acknowledged and appreciated his presence there.
A hand slipped past and cupped the other cheek further away from Taemin, pulling it towards him so he could somehow force Minho to look at him in the eye, but Minho refused to budge.
Taemin fully understood how Minho was feeling at that time. After all, he was participating in boxing matches because he needed the money to support the both of them. Being orphans and living on the streets, they were left with no choice but to fend for themselves. They only had each other to depend on, and to care for.
But right now, whatever pain and despair that Minho bottled up inside his soul, Taemin wanted a share of it too. It was unfair if he had to go through this alone, especially if it concerned him too.
“Stop doing this to yourself, Minho,” Taemin tried his best to make eye contact with Minho, but seemed futile. “We’ll get the money somehow. Stop hurting yourself. It breaks my heart to see you looking beaten up every week just for the sake of money. It’s not worth it.”
By the end of his sentence, a sob escaped from his lips as tears scorched his eyeballs and trickles of it ran down his cheeks.
Minho’s glance shifted towards Taemin upon hearing that quiet sob. It was swift, but it embraced Taemin well, taking in the bare emotions that the younger had swallowed all these weeks.
“Taemin,” His name finally escaped his lips; Taemin raised his head upon hearing Minho’s voice, and much to his contentment, it was his name.
“I just want the best for you, love,” he whispered, taking the hand on his cheek into his, as he caressed the soft skin oh so gently. The contact and those words made Taemin smile a little through his tears. “I want to give you the world.”
The corners of Taemin’s plump lips curl into a larger smile, and eyes twinkled under the soft rays of the afternoon sun streaming through the tiny window.
“But you already have.”
Gentle kisses closed his eyes, as warmth spread through his entire being. There was nothing else Taemin could ask for.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello! Sorry for the lack of updates, been really busy with school.
Well, this is my last week of school, so goodbye polytechnic life ;_;
That means more time to write! YAY~
Take care, you guys! :D ♥
Love, Eleanor
Author: twenty3eleven
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama Sport (is this even a genre… lol)
Pairings: 2min
Word count: 2,642
Summary: The boxing ring was Minho’s source of bread and butter to provide for him & Taemin. But Taemin wished all these wouldn’t happen in the first place.
A/N: HAIII :D Idea was originally justangel’s, so kinda adopted it since it’s too good to not be written ;_; I twisted the plot slightly to suit my liking, so I hope you like it I guess? Description of the match was a little meh, as I followed a little from Million Dollar Baby :\
The bright spotlight was on Minho the moment he stepped into the hall. The place was already brimmed with spectators, bodies positioned towards where he was to welcome him with a roaring cheer. Once the magnificent ring came into view, Minho knew then that he could not turn back. Not any time now.
With a towel slung across the back of his neck and dressed in a simple grey T-shirt and a pair of washed out basketball shorts (he unfortunately, does not own a pair appropriate for boxing), he was led into the great hall by the referee. A silver whistle was held between the referee’s teeth, blowing on it to signal near him to create a path for him to walk through.
Minho lowered his head down; the spotlight was far too bright that he had to squint through to see where he was heading. It was not for the rough yet gentle hand of the referee’s pressed against his shoulder to guide him through the crowd and towards the ring.
He climbed up onto the raised platform, settling himself inside the ring along with the referee. There, the cheers just got louder than before, the rumpus was getting a little too chaotic, assuming that the match was about to start soon. For the first time, Minho glanced at his opponent standing on the opposite corner of the ring.
This man was presumably taller than him by an inch or so, and of a bigger build too. Judging by his tough expression on his face, with eyes already alive and set on fire and clenched fists stiffened by his side, he was ready in a position to fight. Minho sensed that aura and that characteristic look on his face; he had seen too many times before in the twenty-something matches he had participated.
His opponent was some fearless bastard, all ready to go in for the kill to bring Minho down in one swipe.
He drew in a huge breath as the nerves were starting to tighten in his body and let out a sigh. While the referee was standing in the middle of the square ring and about to commence the start of the match, Minho scanned the crowd briefly and found the face he was looking for.
He stood motionless amongst the chaotic crowd who were up cheering loudly; so still and small that he could go undetected so easily. Brown doe eyes staring back at Minho, filled with nothing and expressionless, but then again Minho knew that look as well. He did not miss the slightest lines of worry etched in his features as he still maintained the gaze on Minho.
Right then and there, Minho wanted to step down into the crowd and hug the living hell out of the boy, to stop worrying for him just for a while, but it was too late. Instead, the corners of his lips rose into a reassuring smile to the other that he was going to do just fine.
That smile faded into a tight and straight line as Minho faced his opponent once again, mentally preparing himself for the match that was either going to make or break him hard. He silently prayed that the mighty Gods were looking down on him, watching his every step and move, to give him the strength and willpower he needed to last through the match.
That is if he did.
~;~
“Life across the river is a luxury.”
The two boys sat near the river bank, side by side, on a late weekday afternoon. It was close to dusk; the sky was painted in pink oyster hues and the sun was hidden behind skyscrapers situated across the river bank, signalling the end of the day. They had just finished riding their bicycles around the town, and came to this river to take a short break.
Minho shifted his gaze towards Taemin, the boy next to him. The latter had his eyes fixed straight ahead, crinkling below the warm orange rays, as he appeared deep in his own thoughts. Minho noticed that little smile playing on his plush plump lips and slowly nudged the other by the shoulder.
Taemin glanced at Minho, breaking out of his little reverie while at the same time, cocking his head to the side in a playful manner.
“Have you ever wondered about how life is like across the river bank?”
Minho pondered for a while, while still maintaining eye contact with Taemin. “I think about it sometimes. Why?”
“Nothing,” Taemin replied after a moment’s hesitation before looking back at the perfect outline of the skyscrapers in the background. The concrete jungle was drowned in the shadow of the long rays of the setting sun, but to Taemin, it still looked beautiful and perfect as before. “I’ve always wondered how much our lives would change if we live there.”
“Think about it, Minho. We don’t have to dig through trashcans or steal leftovers for food. We don’t even have to use the underpass as one of our temporary homes. Oh, and we’ll be wearing nice suits too…” Taemin took a brief glance at the remaining clothes he was wearing: some dingy little cloth made into T-shirt and pants. Minho was wearing more or less the same thing as him. The thought of their unfortunate living conditions made Minho frown.
The country divided its people into two large divisions: basically the city and the slums. The economic margins that divided the status of the people were too wide, for the rich were being far too rich and the poor was well, too poor.
What separated these two distinct areas was just a stretch of a river. It was even widely protected by the coastal guards, keeping on a lookout for fearless villagers swimming across in order to make a living. “The land of opportunities”, as many would name it. Unfortunately, many were caught for the past years and sentenced into prison. Rules were stringent ever since, and many did not dare or think of venturing further than they were right now.
But people could still dream, couldn’t they?
“Don’t worry, Minho,” Taemin continued, heaving a huge sigh as he brought his legs together close to his chest, laying his chin on top of his knees. “We’ll make it big someday and cross to the other side.”
Gently placing his head onto Minho’s shoulder, nuzzling a little before closing his eyes, Taemin basked in the warm feeling Minho had upon him. The tiredness of riding the bicycle all over the slums had worn him out, along with that little grumble his stomach made from the lack of food. But he ignored it, because he was used to the empty feeling. Minho’s warmth had this magic of chasing the grumbly devils away.
Minho on the hand, had his mind far away from where he was now. The younger’s words, even though they were spoken so casually and lightly, seemed to plant deep in his head, repeating over and over again. Somehow his subconscious was urging him to do something.
As a light breeze passed and played with the wisps of Taemin’s blonde locks, Minho stared down lovingly at this boy, with his hand stealthily sweeping back the messy locks into place.
Do you love him, Minho?
He did not need to ask that question to know the answer.
~;~
The clear silver sound of the bell was rung, commencing the start of the match. Minho eyed his opponent with fierce narrow eyes, with hands buried in boxing gloves clutched in front of his face and body positioned to fight. The opponent had yet made a move; he was looking out for Minho’s weaknesses where he second guessed himself. From the likes of it, he was a little inexperienced and from there, he could bring him down in one second flat.
Legs shifted on one and then another, as both of them went a full circuit around the ring and back. One step closer towards each other and finally, the opponent brought a quick jab to Minho. Minho fearlessly blocked it with his gloves, along with a quick duck of the head.
Move to the left, push on the right toe. Remember the footwork, keep the momentum going, Minho told himself. The opponent was what Minho had imagined: fearless and strong. He could feel the adrenaline coming from that man, for he was throwing punches, both short and quick, sparing no expense to retract to collect himself.
Taemin stood with careful and worried eyes, watching Minho’s every move in the boxing ring. His body was slowly drowned by the immense crowd around him, but it did not bother him at all. He was just looking out for Minho and never taking his eyes off him. He could not afford to miss anything.
Fierce blows crunched into Minho’s face; the deep crimson red viscosity slowly dripping from his nose. It did not help the situation when the opponent was already packing in more punches to his face and body. Instead of fighting back like what he was supposed to, he was now protecting himself.
There was no point in listening out for movement when Minho knew he was at the losing end. Cheeks were bruised to its limits when fists connected with the muscled flesh, causing Minho to stagger backwards and in the end, fell like a drunken transient.
10… 9… 8…
Fight back, Minho! Stand up, you fool!
Fear’s alarm bell rang shrilly, as Taemin gasped. The sight in front of him clutched his chest cavity into a constricting hold.
Exhausted arms were at its last attempt to lift his body up, but there was no ounce of energy left.
His body had given up.
Minho was a mangled heap on the floor as the referee above him counted down to the last second. The cheers were amplifying a hundred times than before. Taemin stood motionless with mounting panic as the crowd cheered on.
5… 4… 3… 2…
Defeat was staring right in his face.
~;~
The locker room was empty, except for a lone fighter sitting on a long wooden bench into a hunched posture of utter dejection. He hung his head in shame; disappointment washed over him in huge tidal waves. The roaring and joyous cheers of the blazing crowd could still be heard from the locker room, and it frustrated Minho more.
He could see it clearly: the jeers the spectators would give and the sickening smug face of his opponent as he yelled out his victory. Defeat was definitely laughing and mocking at him right now.
Stupid boy. Are you that silly to sign up for this event? You’re just a novice!
From outside, as the celebration still continued on despite the end of the match, Taemin pushed through the crowd and towards the entrance where Minho came out earlier. He had seen Minho’s defeated expression as he made through the walk of shame with the remaining energy left in him, towards the locker rooms. Minho was in no position to be left alone at a time like this.
Why were you so stupid, love? Taemin’s mind screamed to no one, as his mind raced to where Minho was.
His legs sped against time, trying his best to find Minho, as he searched in the many rooms along the long corridor.
Until he spotted a figure on a wooden bench with his head buried in his hands, and quietly paused by the door frame. He could recognise that brown messy hair and physique; he had known that for many years now.
Taemin slowly walked up to the figure, hoping to not disturb any solitary moment that the latter wished for right now. Even so, Taemin was just so concerned about him. He had every right to.
Slipping onto the bench beside Minho as quietly as possible, he scooted closer and waited. However, Minho had already sensed a presence beside him even before Taemin stepped into the room. His head turned slightly towards this presence, and without a glance at his face he turned back and stared down onto the cold tiled floor.
“Minho,” Taemin’s voice came out like a whisper; gentle and soft whilst it sounded so beautifully in Minho’s ears. “Are you alright there?”
Taemin examined his profile from the side: sun-kissed skin slicked with sweat, blood and dried tear tracks. The blood however, had dried up and transformed into maroon coloured clumps, leaving a trail down his nose and ending at the curve of his jaw. His cheek was swollen and bruised from the harsh impact from the punch earlier on.
Even though how battered and bruised he looked, Taemin could not deny that he still looked gorgeous as ever. But no matter how gorgeous he seemed at that point of time, Taemin’s heart clenched tightly at the sight of him so small and vulnerable like this.
Without a word or permission granted, he grabbed the towel from the other side of Minho, and gently dabbed a small part of the cloth to Minho’s nose. However, the flinch of the contact could be read in many ways: either Minho did not want him there, or his wounds were hurting him so badly. But either way, it caused small tears to edge out of Taemin’s eyes.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Taemin continued dabbing and cleaning the wounds on his faces, and much to his surprise, Minho did not respond negatively towards his actions.
While doing so, Taemin took note of Minho’s tiny changes in expressions, or any signs if he was comfortable to talk to him. Anything, just as long as Minho acknowledged and appreciated his presence there.
A hand slipped past and cupped the other cheek further away from Taemin, pulling it towards him so he could somehow force Minho to look at him in the eye, but Minho refused to budge.
Taemin fully understood how Minho was feeling at that time. After all, he was participating in boxing matches because he needed the money to support the both of them. Being orphans and living on the streets, they were left with no choice but to fend for themselves. They only had each other to depend on, and to care for.
But right now, whatever pain and despair that Minho bottled up inside his soul, Taemin wanted a share of it too. It was unfair if he had to go through this alone, especially if it concerned him too.
“Stop doing this to yourself, Minho,” Taemin tried his best to make eye contact with Minho, but seemed futile. “We’ll get the money somehow. Stop hurting yourself. It breaks my heart to see you looking beaten up every week just for the sake of money. It’s not worth it.”
By the end of his sentence, a sob escaped from his lips as tears scorched his eyeballs and trickles of it ran down his cheeks.
Minho’s glance shifted towards Taemin upon hearing that quiet sob. It was swift, but it embraced Taemin well, taking in the bare emotions that the younger had swallowed all these weeks.
“Taemin,” His name finally escaped his lips; Taemin raised his head upon hearing Minho’s voice, and much to his contentment, it was his name.
“I just want the best for you, love,” he whispered, taking the hand on his cheek into his, as he caressed the soft skin oh so gently. The contact and those words made Taemin smile a little through his tears. “I want to give you the world.”
The corners of Taemin’s plump lips curl into a larger smile, and eyes twinkled under the soft rays of the afternoon sun streaming through the tiny window.
“But you already have.”
Gentle kisses closed his eyes, as warmth spread through his entire being. There was nothing else Taemin could ask for.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello! Sorry for the lack of updates, been really busy with school.
Well, this is my last week of school, so goodbye polytechnic life ;_;
That means more time to write! YAY~
Take care, you guys! :D ♥
Love, Eleanor