bearxgyeomie - Tumblr blog

bearxgyeomie · 15 days ago

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One Day At A Time

seonghwa x reader, yunho x reader

royal?au plus seonghwa and yunho are soldiers so idk what to call this lol

genre and warnings: fluff, angst, suggestive, mention of death and violence, trauma

word count: 18.5k

synopsis: loving seonghwa was like loving the moon. loving yunho was like loving the sun. the story of how you fell in love with seonghwa, one of the king's trusted agent, married him, had a daughter and then lost him forever- and how you fell in love with yunho- also the king's trusted agent, seonghwa's best friend, a loving father to your daughter, and a husband who gave you enough space to grieve seonghwa, and enough time to make you fall in love with him.

You were used to looking out of your window on a whim, as if you would see your husband walking back in his uniform any second now. Of course, that would be a rare coincidence- if you did look up and see him actually walking home. As the wife of a soldier, you were used to feeling disappointed when you would see the empty road that led to your house.

You were also used to the feeling of your heart sinking whenever someone else in uniform stopped by. You couldn’t help the feeling- as someone whose husband was one of the eight trusted agents of the King, you had to be prepared for the worst- even though you knew nothing could ever prepare you for the bad news that was bound to come one day.

But you still weren’t used to opening the door to the man who wore the same uniform as your husband, bore the same titles- both at work and at home.

“Yunho,” you breathed, your heart twisting painfully but you managed to put a smile- the least you could do to return his bright smile. “Come in, it’s cold outside.”

Yunho patted your back- a gesture that had taken you months to get used to. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, I was just out collecting berries today,” you said to distract him from scanning you- a habit of his. “You want some?”

Yunho glanced at the small basket that held fresh cherries and he popped one in his mouth, nodding. “Where’s Byeol?”

As if on cue, Byeol, your three years old daughter came rushing in with her usual shout of ‘dad!’, jumping into Yunho’s arms who swung her around and kissed her cheek before hugging her tightly.

You still weren’t used to your daughter calling someone else her father. Every time you saw Yunho and Byeol interacting with each other as if they really were father and daughter, you wanted to go in a corner and cry your heart out. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful to the love Yunho gave Byeol- he really lived up to being Byeol’s father, he always made sure of that- but it was only that you wished Byeol’s real father had gotten more time with her.

Seonghwa. Byeol’s father. Your first and only love. Now he really was a star, up in the sky, far away from your reach, just like his name.

You broke out of your trance when Yunho looked at you, mumbled something about how you were going to set the table and almost rushed to the kitchen. You took out the hot pot from the oven- a dish you had learned from Seonghwa’s mother- just in time to save it from burning. Setting the plates, you took a few deep breaths, pushing the thoughts of Seonghwa out of your mind- for now.

You could never push him out for long. Something always reminded you of him. Byeol was a living reminder of him too- with eyes just like Seonghwa that made you wonder if he saw the world differently. His eyes just had a different sparkle to them, something you hadn’t seen in someone else’s eyes.

Even Yunho reminded you of Seonghwa at times- especially with his subconscious gestures like patting your back, wiping your mouth if you got something on it, rubbing your hands when it was cold, or just…

Looking at you like he was now. As if he was trying to read you. You could never meet his gaze when he did that. You used to shy away from Seonghwa when he did that as well. You finally looked up and raised your brows, pointing at his plate where you had put a big chunk of the pasta. Yunho exhaled, pouring himself water and taking a few gulps.

“Is everything alright at work?” You managed to ask. You weren’t allowed to ask much, and asking wouldn’t get you answers anyway- Yunho wasn’t allowed to say much about work. You knew that from Seonghwa too- you always teased him and pushed him into telling you something, but he would always laugh and shut you up with either a glare (rarely) or a kiss-

“Yep,” he answered, just like Seonghwa would, with a sideways glance that said he definitely was hiding something. Before you could say anything, Byeol pushed her dark hair back and looked at Yunho.

“I made a gift for you, all by myself!”

Yunho smiled warmly, turning away from the food and shifting all of his attention to Byeol. “Really? What did you make?”

“Do you wanna see?” Byeol’s face lit up and Yunho nodded, laughing when she rushed off and you called after her to at least finish her food before running around. You avoided looking at Yunho, playing with your food instead of eating it. Yunho noticed that.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just don’t have an appetite,” you sighed, resuming eating slowly so he wouldn’t ask you to finish your food. Yunho nodded, resuming eating as well until Byeol came back and handed Yunho a drawing she had made.

“This is me,” she pointed at a little girl she had drawn, all colourful. “This is you, and this is mommy!”

“I see I am in my uniform,” Yunho laughed, ruffling Byeol’s hair, “When did you get so good at drawing? Is my little girl all grown up now?”

“I have always been good!” Byeol pouted.

“But why is mommy not smiling here?” Yunho asked and you stopped eating as you peeked at the drawing. Indeed, the drawing, even though only better than stick figures, you could clearly see the big smiles Byeol had drawn on herself and Yunho.

“I don’t remember how she laughs,” Byeol said, “so I gave her a little smile! She always looks pretty when she smiles!”

You went back to memory lane- a brief moment you recalled when Seonghwa had first told you how pretty you looked when you smiled as he handed you a bouquet of red roses- the first thing he’d ever gotten for you.

“She does,” Yunho smiled at Byeol and glanced at you. You really couldn’t take that look in his eyes- the look that said he was being cautious but also taking a step towards you.

You always pushed him back.

You finished eating the last bite and got up, walked to the sink and dumped your plate, telling the two to call you from outside when they finish eating, leaving Yunho’s eyes following you until you disappeared outside the door into the chilly air of winter. You took a few deep breaths, your breath materialising in the air. You were sure Yunho was disappointed once again, as you had disappointed him so many times in the almost two full years of your marriage with him.

You knew Yunho did not deserve any of this. He had been nothing but a loving father to your daughter, and had tried his best to be a loving husband to you- as far as you’d allow him to go, which wasn’t much. In fact, there wasn’t much ‘love’ in the marriage at all. You two hadn’t even kissed- you refused to count the time you had pecked his lips when you had been in a rather emotional mess. You had asked him to forget about it and he had lived up to the promise, never bringing that moment up again.

Yunho was more of a companion- a friend, if you must. He didn’t come home for long- only on some weekends, and he spent most of that time with Byeol, since you always made sure you were busy doing something when he was here. You were indebted to him though. He was providing you two with a home, with protection from Seonghwa’s enemies who had also taken his life and had threatened to harm his family. In these times, especially with the growing threat on Kingdom of Wonderland, single mothers couldn’t do well on their own, usually taken and sold off to another nation by the enemies that had infiltrated Wonderland in the past decade. The little children met a worse fate.

One reason or another, your and Yunho’s mutual friends, especially Seonghwa’s mother, insisted you marry Yunho. Apparently, he hadn’t really objected, the reason why, you still couldn’t ask him. Perhaps out of love for his comrade and closest partner at work, perhaps because Seonghwa had died while carrying out an operation with Yunho and had taken his last breaths in Yunho’s arms. Maybe Yunho felt guilty about Seonghwa’s death, wondering if he could have prevented it. Maybe, out of guilt, he offered to be a father to Byeol and a husband to you.

You were still thinking about Seonghwa when you felt a jacket being draped on your shoulders- you hadn’t even heard Yunho approach. He gave you a tight-lipped smile as he stood next to you, and you looked at the jacket- the same as Seonghwa’s- then up at him, so tall as he looked ahead at the stretching farm.

“I won’t be home next week, but I expect to return the week after,” he said, “We have to carry out an operation in the neighbouring nation- code red.”

You gulped- Seonghwa had been in a code red operation when he passed away as well. The most dangerous operations were code red. Plus, Yunho didn’t mention which ‘neighbouring’ nation exactly was he going to- there were 3. “Is the whole team going?”

“Yes,” Yunho nodded, “It’s going to be one week there- we move out in three days.” He glanced down at you, his eyes softening when he saw the worry on your face. It gave him a sense of comfort- that you cared, even if it was just a little. “Don’t worry. We will be… fine.”

“I hope so,” you almost whispered, and Yunho knew then that perhaps it was a night like this when Seonghwa had told you he wasn’t going to be home for a while, only to never return. It wasn’t that code red operations meant casualties- sometimes it only meant trespassing the border and meeting up with the spies for an exchange of information. Sometimes it meant engaging in a fight. No one was allowed to share the details with outsiders, so Yunho couldn’t really assure you that it wasn’t going to be dangerous- even exchanging information could go very wrong.

“It’s… going to be okay,” Yunho said and cringed, wishing he hadn’t said that. You didn’t respond, and he continued. “I need to go to the town tomorrow- do you want to tag along? We could get something for you and Byeol and maybe have dinner?”

“I don’t really need anything, but yeah… Byeol has grown taller so we need more clothes,” you hugged yourself. “Should I not cook dinner tomorrow then?”

“Let’s go have a fancy dinner,” Yunho said with a grin, “I’m going to miss that the next few days.”

You smiled- Yunho always managed to earn a smile when he joked around. You wished you could relax more around him, but somehow whenever you were alone with him, you started feeling vulnerable. You did not want to feel that- not for now.

“Sounds good,” you finally said. “How’s Hongjoong?”

“Finally getting used to how loud Wooyoung and San are,” Yunho laughed, “He’s not used to dealing with kids.”

You stifled a laugh- you knew all of Seonghwa’s friends to some extent, and were very well aware of just how loud San and Wooyoung could be. Even Seonghwa, the oldest of his team, would turn into a loud kid whenever they were over. “You should bring them over some time. It’s been too long.”

Yunho raised a brow- that was new. “I should, huh? Maybe next month?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with that,” you nodded. “It’s time I see the team without Seonghwa present.”

Yunho fell silent, looking away. “Even I haven’t gotten used to the absence.”

You looked up at him- he rarely talked about his feelings when it concerned Seonghwa’s absence. Perhaps he, too, was just as traumatised as you, if not more. Perhaps, he had it worse- you wished you had put yourself in his shoes too. You were always so selfish with Seonghwa- as if he had only belonged to you.

“I still feel him,” you whispered. Yunho sighed, putting an arm around your draped shoulder, rubbing. You were stiff for a few moments before you relaxed.

“I do, too,” Yunho whispered. “I sometimes accidentally call out Seonghwa’s name instead of Yeosang’s- he’s been my partner for three years now, you’d think I would get used to it.”

“You don’t,” you wiped a tear, “you can never get used to it.”

Yunho couldn’t stop you as you handed him the jacket and stepped away from him. He frowned, “So what do we do, y/n?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled sadly as you looked back at him. “We keep pretending we’re okay when we’re not. Just like we have for so long. I do it better now, don’t I?”

Yunho wished he could hug you and tell you you didn’t have to do that. That you were allowed to break down and cry for him for as long as you wanted. But your grief… it was like a part of you now.

Yunho recalled the time he had returned from the operation that cost Seonghwa’s life. He had fallen to his knees in front of you, held your hands and cried his heart out. You hadn’t moved until he stopped crying and looked at you, to find your eyes filled with anger.

He still couldn’t get that moment out of his head. You had explained later that you hadn’t been angry at him- you could never be- but you were so angry with Seonghwa for leaving you and his daughter behind. For risking his life when he had just become a father a few months ago. You hadn’t cried properly as well- you always held it in, for Byeol. You had no time and luxury to be emotional. Seonghwa had always told you to be strong if something ever happened to him, so you did just that.

You probably sucked at that. You were anything but strong. The littlest things reminded you of him, and the memory of him followed you everywhere. You sometimes wished you hadn’t met him at all, hadn’t known what it was like to love him and be loved by him. You missed being in his arms, you missed his scent, his touch, everything.

But he had left you with Byeol- a copy of him, both a blessing and a painful reminder of your time with Seonghwa. You sometimes wondered what it would have been like if you didn’t have Byeol- you would have no reason to live.

That’s what you got for loving someone who didn’t know if he would be alive the next moment. Though Seonghwa had taken the initiative in your relationship, he had also given you several chances to back out. He had told you again and again that his work would be a priority. That he would risk his life for Wonderland at any moment. You hadn’t understood the gravity of the situation until it was too late.

And now you were married to practically the same person- Seonghwa’s partner. You couldn’t bring yourself to get attached to him. Not now.

—--------------------

"I really don't think I can wear something like this…"

"You're making it sound like I chose something bad for you," Yunho raised a brow. "Come on, it's just a dress. I'm getting one for our daughter, I'm getting one for you."

Our daughter. Sometimes he said it so spontaneously that for a moment you would forget that Byeol was anything else but his daughter. You looked at Byeol who was pulling at your dress with pleading eyes with hope that you'd agree to buy the emerald green dress Yunho was holding for you.

You supposed Byeol might not be his daughter but Yunho really was her father. She knew none other. It made your heart break-

"Hey? Are you okay?" Yunho asked gently and you blinked, nodding.

"Sorry, just got lost for a second. Now let me see that," you pursed your lips as you held the emerald green gown. It was plain but somehow, the buttons of the same colour running down one sleeve from the neckline gave it an elegant flair. You glanced at Yunho who was looking expectantly at you.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. "Fine. That's the only thing I'm getting."

"Yay!" Byeol immediately held out her hands for Yunho to high-five her and you smiled at their interaction. Yunho took your dress and Byeol's midnight blue dress to get them packed and you looked around, noticing two women, their eyes following Yunho.

Yunho had that air to him, you supposed. A presence that could fill the room. You recalled the time when you had first met Yunho- the first time Seonghwa introduced you to his group of friends. The tall man had stood out not just because of his handsome height but also his personality. You had immediately liked him and found him easy to talk to.

Why was it so difficult to talk to him now?

You wondered that, especially when you came to your bedroom after wrapping up everything in the kitchen, finding your husband reading a book half-lying on the bed.

Probably the fact that you now shared a room had created a distance between you two.

You went to wash up, the memories from 2 years ago making way. After almost a year of grieving, Seonghwa's mother who had spent most of the time with you in his house told you she had to go back now. She had been a great help around, and at times you'd feel like she filled the hole left by your dead mother. She had been no less than a mother to you and had helped you raise Byeol.

It had been a night like this when she had first asked you to move on. You'd looked at her as if she had said something ridiculous, but she sighed.

"I am a soldier's mother, and you are a soldier's wife. We spend most of our lives fearing the worst. When it happens, we don't give in, dear y/n. We grieve but then we stand up, straight. We go along with the flow of life. We keep them in our hearts and we move on."

"But I…" you wiped your tears, "How can I ever move on, mom? How can I stop grieving?"

Seonghwa's mother touched your face gently. "If we actually started grieving… the world would have no more soldiers."

That had made you cry your heart out and then the next day, you were brighter than the day before. The first step you took to move on. For yourself. For your daughter.

And a month later, when his mother packed her bags, promising to visit often, she made you sit with her with a cup of tea.

"I really think you should marry again," she said and the teacup almost fell from your hands. "Byeol needs a father. You need a husband. You cannot do this alone- especially with Wonderland in this state."

"Remarry?" You scoffed. "I'm sorry but I cannot imagine living with someone else, mother. I can't even think of someone else. What gave you this ridiculous idea?"

She gave you a side-eye, but sighed as she began. "I think you should really think this over. You're still so young. And Byeol… if Wonderland was in a better state and we were safe, I would have supported your stance of being independent and single for the rest of your life. I would have let you go at your pace, maybe meet someone and fall in love again and so on. But with our enemies targeting the soldier's families, and especially the circumstances of Seonghwa's death… I can't let you be alone anymore."

"I understand your stance, mom, but I simply cannot imagine myself with anyone else. And I can fend for myself. I can try. I will move somewhere else if I have to-”

"No… stay here. Seonghwa's house is yours now," his mother said. "but… Seonghwa would have wanted you to move on, y/n. And what I have in mind for you… I'm sure he would be happy for you and him."

"Him?" Your heart sank. "Don't tell me I'm the last person learning about this."

"It isn't anything like that-"

"Who did you talk to?"

Seonghwa's mother matched your glare but then gave in, sighing. "I didn't exactly talk, mind you. I was just talking to him about you and your situation and wondered out loud about who you could marry. And then…"

"Who was it?"

"Yunho," she sighed and you exhaled, looking away. "He's always visited in his free time. Byeol is so attached to him- she doesn't recognize anyone else but Yunho, out of all of Seonghwa's friends. He's been a father to her, you have to admit."

"I agree that he's doing his best, but I'm pretty sure part of it is out of his guilt and trauma other than the friendship he had with Seonghwa. And how could you even ask him something like that! What would he think of us!"

"He actually didn't hate the idea," Seonghwa's mother smiled knowingly. "He didn't really give me a reaction-"

"He's a soldier, mother," you rolled your eyes. "He's trained not to give reactions-"

"Shush," she slapped your hand lightly and you gaped at her. "He would have said no if he didn't like the idea- he's known me all his life. But he didn't really say anything. That means he's considering it."

"Pretty sure he's trying to find a way to turn your offer down politely," you muttered, groaning and hiding your face in your hands. "I am mortified. How will I face him when he comes to visit?"

"He said he'll talk to you," she got up, leaving you mortified right then. "He's coming next week."

The whole week had been disastrous for you-, trying to find and memorise the words to politely turn him down if he suggested this as well, trying to be less mortified and humiliated by the whole situation, finding yourself spacing out more often.

And then Yunho finally came. The awkwardness in the air was making you suffocate. Yunho and you used to be comfortable enough that he'd play with Byeol and you'd disappear somewhere in the kitchen or in your room, or sit and watch them with a book in your hand, or you'd hear him tell stories about Seonghwa to Byeol-

Really, he was telling you. You'd silently cry or laugh, and then he'd inquire about your health, tell you that he worries about you two a lot.

That night, when Byeol fell asleep in his arms, you took her to the bed and that's when Yunho finally cleared his throat and asked if Seonghwa's mother had said something about him.

You considered lying but decided to address the elephant in the room. You nodded, and Yunho asked you to take a walk with him.

"I thought about it, and to be honest, for once I don't know what to do," he laughed a little. "So I just thought I'd talk to you."

"Honestly, I cannot imagine being with anyone else, Yunho," you said.

"Of course," he nodded, understanding.

"But Byeol… she's attached to you. She doesn't know who her father is. She won't understand that she doesn't have a father for a good while. I fear the day that she would start to mourn her father, but I think it would be easier for her if she had someone like you by her side… someone to fill the gap. Even without being my husband, you're doing an exceptional job."

Yunho raised a brow as he smiled. "I never intended to be that for her, but somehow… holding Byeol in my arms makes me feel like I'm making Seonghwa proud."

You smiled at that. Seonghwa would definitely be glad for all the love his friends showered Byeol with- not just Yunho. The others visited every other week as well. "The only reason I'm agreeing to remarry is because of Byeol. I gave it a lot of thought. I don't really need a husband, but Byeol needs a father."

"I understand."

"But Yunho," you paused and finally turned to lock eyes with him. "You're young. You have a whole life ahead of you. I don't want you to be bound by me and Byeol. I can't do this to you. I can remarry, yes, but it doesn't have to be you- I just can't do this to you because I don't think I can give you the love a wife is supposed to give her husband-"

"Hey, hey," Yunho rubbed your shoulders and you looked up at the night sky, tearing up when you saw a single bright star. "I know. I don't expect you to love me. I don't expect anything from you. And if you really don't want me, I won't do this. But I'm so attached to Byeol. Is there anyone else who could love her the way I love her?"

That made you sob harder. It was the first time Yunho hugged you after the day Seonghwa passed away. You let yourself cry in his arms, shaking your head but he held you, firm, secure, and surprisingly but maybe not so, you felt safe in his arms.

"If you allow me to, I can be a friend to you, nothing more, but a father to Byeol. I'll make sure she learns all about Seonghwa and how brave her father was."

You cried harder again and he laughed a little as he drew you back, shaking his head. "Don't cry. Seonghwa always hated when you'd cry."

You nodded, wiping your face. "You're right- I can't think of anyone else who could do justice to Byeol and be her father. But Yunho… I can't do this to you. You deserve a loving wife. Your own family."

"You are my family, even now," Yunho leaned down and squeezed your shoulder. "It's your decision. Honestly, I was conflicted as well, but now I'm sure I can do this, if you allow me to. I've made my choice."

You looked at him- really looked at him for the first time. "You'll be shackled to me. Why are you doing this to yourself, I'm wondering."

Yunho stood back up, a faint smile on his face. "I think I won't have a problem with that."

2 years passed and you still wondered what exactly he meant by that, because never did he actually make a move on you. He never initiated anything, and neither did you (if we forget about that one time). He had been nothing but patient, especially during the first few months of the marriage. It was just like before- him visiting on weekends-

Except that now, he stayed. And you shared a room with him.

Perhaps, this was something you could never get used to. Him, in the same room as you, the four walls making the room feel smaller than it was whenever he was present. Even now, he was only half lying on the bed and reading a book but you…

You could never get used to this. Especially when he glanced at you and his eyes would stay on you a second longer than usual before going back to whatever he was doing.

You sighed, sitting in front of the mirror and drying your hair, watching him through the mirror, your eyes accidentally meeting once. After spending a few minutes there, you finally came to your side of the bed.

For better or for worse, Yunho was actually aware in his sleep. He'd never invade your space and never make your bed feel small. As if he was trying to make sure you didn't feel his presence when you slept. You used to have Byeol with you both in the middle since Byeol used to wake up at night quite often, and Yunho was a great help. He'd offer to hold Byeol and put her to sleep and do anything to help you. It was the reason why sleeping with him wasn't awkward at first, not that much, since technically, it was just like taking a nap and taking care of Byeol.

And then Byeol got big enough to have her own room, and you two found yourself alone in your room. Yunho offered to start sleeping on the couch if it was too awkward for you, just like he had when he first got here.

But you stopped him for the same reason you did later. Your terrifying nightmares. The cherry on the top.

All you asked of him was to tell you what was real whenever you woke up unable to breathe. And he did without fail. He would hold your hand, push your hair back and tuck them behind your ears and hold your face if you shook too hard. He'd tell you what was real. And then he'd hold your hand as you cried and went back to sleep, sometimes closer to him than you would actually like.

And you'd always apologise to him. He only came on the weekends and he wouldn't even get to sleep peacefully.

"I'm never sleeping peacefully, I have to be on my toes even when asleep," he would laugh and dismiss your apology. "I'm okay with this."

You turned off the lamp on your side and Yunho gently asked if you wanted him to turn off his lamp too, but you insisted you were fine, drawing the covers on yourself.

"Thank you for the dress," you finally said, realising you never actually thanked him earlier. "It's beautiful."

Yunho smiled, not looking away from his book. "Thank you for accepting it. I wish you'd accept more."

"I have improved, you have to admit," you said and Yunho raised a brow, surprised to find you teasing him. You kept a straight face but he always saw through you.

"Can you wear it the next time I come home?"

It was your turn to raise a brow and look at him. "I guess I could. Should I expect someone else?"

"Only me," his voice was thick- like it was at nights when you two talked lightly. It overwhelmed you sometimes.

"Uh… yeah. I could. It's only a dress. Let's pray Byeol doesn't decide to improve the dress this time, huh?"

Yunho laughed, recalling the time he'd bought a beige dress for you and showed it to Byeol, planning to gift it to you on your birthday and Byeol had, on her own, decided that the dress missed something, and had sketched flowers with your lipstick. You all had a good laugh over it and thankfully, after two washes the dress was saved.

"How have you been, y/n?" Yunho asked and you knew he was asking about your nightmares and insomnia.

"Better, but they still come sometimes, the nightmares," you sighed. "Last night was the first time I slept properly this whole week."

You didn't know but when you said stuff like this… Yunho felt a sense of pride. Was it his company that made you sleep better? He wished he had contributed to your better quality of sleep in some way. "So no nightmares this week but you stay up late? What do you do?"

"The usual- paint or read or just stay up and think."

Think about Seonghwa. Think about Yunho.

You had been thinking about Yunho a lot too. You wondered if you had made the wrong decision in marrying him sometimes. You looked at Yunho. "Can you tell me something? Truthfully?"

Yunho nodded and you continued. "Do you regret marrying me? Do you regret anything about this… marriage?"

Yunho took a deep breath and looked away, thinking. "If there's one thing I regret… it is that I am unable to make you happy."

Now that was something you did not expect and you found yourself speechless. Yunho smiled sadly, putting the book back on the side table and before he could turn off the lamp, you tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, drawing his attention.

"You… you've done so much for me that if there's any way to sum it up, I have to say that I am in your debt." Yunho was about to protest when he heard that but you put a finger on your mouth, indicating to him to hear you out. "When I see you interact with Byeol, I am the happiest mother. Whatever you do for me and have done for me… it's more than enough."

Yunho held your hand, caressing it. "I always gave you whatever you wanted. Space. A friend. A father to your daughter- our daughter. And at times, a husband to you. I want you to know that whatever you ask from me… it's never gonna be too much. I haven't done enough for you."

"But you have," you smiled sadly, trying not to cry because how could he be such an angel?

Yunho shook his head furiously. "You can ask anything of me, you know that. And I'll give you all the time in the world to open up to me. We've come a great way these past three years, haven't we?"

You nodded. He continued, "I just wish you'd talk to me more. I'm only here on the weekends and we only get to talk at night time. Even if you miss Seonghwa and want to talk about him, you know I'm here."

"Thank you," you nodded. It was unfair to him when you didn't even talk to him much, you realised. "I'm sorry, I just… his death anniversary is approaching soon. You know how it gets."

He nodded, shifting so he was sitting now. "Will you come here?" He patted the space next to him and you paused for a moment but then figured you needed a shoulder tonight and sat next to him. He put an arm over your shoulders.

"Seonghwa… When he loved someone, he loved them with his entire heart. People like you and me… we think we gave him all our heart too, but really, no one loves like Seonghwa does."

"That's true," you smiled. "He was different."

"He was," Yunho nodded. "He spent all his life giving and receiving love. That's a life well-lived, isn't it?"

"Definitely."

"I never told you, but Seonghwa said something to me right before his last breath," Yunho said and your eyes went wide as you looked at Yunho. "He told me to take care of Byeol and you."

"He did?" You sighed, biting your lip to stifle the emotions making way.

"Actually, he only mentioned Byeol," Yunho said and you looked at him, shaking your head.

"That makes it more believable, yes. He used to tease me about how he forgot all about me after Byeol. In fact, he started calling Byeol his first love."

Yunho laughed lightly. "He mentioned Byeol, but I saw the worry in his eyes was for you."

You took a few deep breaths, finally putting your head on Yunho's shoulder. "Do you feel burdened by it?"

"I think I would have done everything I did either way."

You wiped your eyes and Yunho held you closer, letting the few silent tears drop. "I used to wonder what I did to deserve Seonghwa. Now I wonder if all the good I did is what got me and Seonghwa together. Then what did I do to deserve you, Yunho?"

Yunho only ran his hand through your hair, comforting you, not meeting your eyes when you kept looking at him. You took a deep breath, your hand slowly and hesitantly going to hold his face and turn him to meet your eyes, finding his eyes damp as well. "You probably hate me. I make you feel like we're going somewhere and then I push you away. I'm sorry."

"I don't hate you, I could never," Yunho held your hand that was still on his face. "Don't ever think like that."

You nodded, the two of you staring at each other, the electricity thick between you two. You unconsciously licked your lips, making his eyes fall on your lips and then as if coming out of a trance, he drew your hand down and looked away from you.

You had always suspected somewhere along the way, Yunho had started liking you. Genuinely like you as his partner. Were you ready to return your feelings for him? Would acting impulsively be a mistake? You didn't want to take a step, give him hope and then draw away from him. That would be cruel.

So you only leaned forward and lightly kissed his cheek before drawing back and turning off the lamp. You heard him lightly groan as if it was too much for him.

"I'm sorry- I should have asked."

"It's not that… it's okay, y/n," you heard him shift and turn towards you. "I won't be home for two weeks… can I hold your hand tonight?"

You knew what he meant. He was like Seonghwa, in that sense.

After your marriage with Seonghwa, when the first time he had to leave for a code red operation, he had held you all night, more closely than you thought possible. You later asked him what happened with a laugh but he shook his head with a sad smile.

"Before I met you, I had nothing to be afraid of. I would go to sleep like any other night, even before the most dangerous missions. But now… I can't seem to calm myself."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Are you saying you're afraid of me?"

Seonghwa laughed- he liked it when you made joke of his misery "It's not that, stupid. You know what I mean."

You laughed, spreading your arms and he came to hug you. You rested your head on his shoulder. "Do I finally make you worry about your life?"

"Exactly," he hugged you tighter. "I don't want to lose you."

Perhaps Yunho felt the same way as Seonghwa. Perhaps he too, was scared of losing his life now, not for himself but for you and Byeol.

"I should have known," you said to Yunho. "You should tell me when you're afraid or scared, Yunho. It's the least you can do for me."

He only held your hand tighter. "I didn't use to be. It wasn't always like this."

"That's exactly what Seonghwa said. You're afraid you'll lose us, isn't that so?"

"Yeah," Yunho sighed.

"Do you want to know what I told him? The same thing I'm telling you now. That if anything happens to you, I'll be the one losing everything. So make sure you return."

Yunho was silent for a few moments and then he brought your hand up to kiss it. "Thank you for telling me that. It means… a lot to me."

Your heart swelled when you heard that. You decided then that what he needed tonight was you, so you shifted closer, burying your head in his chest and he hesitantly hugged you as the two of you tried sleeping.

—-----------------

It was the next weekend that the knock on your door gave you a little scare- it was almost 8 pm. For a second, your heart jumped, wondering if Yunho got an early leave, but then it followed by fear that it could be someone to deliver bad news or someone else entirely-

You were surprised to open the door to a face you had almost forgotten. You frowned but then you gasped in realisation. “Dani?”

“It’s really you, y/n!” She smiled, stretching her arms and you immediately hugged her. “It’s been years!”

“It has! How come I didn’t hear that you’re back? Come right in-”

“No, my son’s waiting for me, look over there,” she pointed to the carriage across the road. “I’ve only just arrived, I hope to see you at the dinner we’re having soon- we’re inviting all of the neighbourhood on dinner two weeks from now, I came to personally give you this message and ask you to join-”

“Mommy?” Byeol’s voice rang and when she appeared in Dani’s vision, she looked at Byeol in surprise.

“She looks just like Seonghwa! Congratulations! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a daughter!”

“I’m sorry, things had been rough,” you bit your lips, noticing the boy get off the carriage and wave at you. You gestured to Dani and she sighed.

“I have to go. Let’s catch up on dinner. I want all three of you to come, you better bring Seonghwa with you!”

Before you could protest or give her another news, she rushed back with a wave. You laughed at how she was just the same as three years ago- hyper, funny and bright. As soon as you shut the door and looked at Byeol, you realised that the dinner was going to be tough.

Dani was one of your oldest friends, and one of the few people who knew about your marriage with Seonghwa. After a year of your marriage, she moved to another town because of her husband’s job, but you two kept in touch through letters.

A year later, you had Byeol- you had wanted to give her a surprise after your child was born. But only two months later, Seonghwa passed away. You never replied to any of the letters and then you moved here, in Yunho’s house, a year after your marriage with Yunho, telling Seonghwa’s mother to use the house as she pleased- you couldn’t live in Seonghwa’s house with all of the memories and not see him but Yunho instead.

It was a huge coincidence that Dani somehow became your neighbour and found you. You did not know how to explain what happened after she left. You thought about writing her a letter, but that wouldn’t be fair to her.

You spent the next week stressing over it, running across Dani while doing grocery and about to break the news to her, but then she asked if Seonghwa was doing well, and you couldn’t help but nod and leave it at that, regretting it later. But you did not want to break the news to her in public.

It was finally Friday afternoon. You got Byeol ready, having a little fun with her when she took a bath, drying her hair and styling it into two braids which made her look the cutest, letting her run along to her room where she played with her toys. Meanwhile, you stood holding the emerald gown in front of yourself and looking at the mirror.

Was it the first time you were going to dress up for Yunho?

It wasn’t the first time he had brought you a dress, no. But it had been the first time he asked you to wear it at a specific time- his arrival. It made everything feel different, especially with how the two of you opened up to each other after so long. One step closer.

With a faint smile on your face, you decided this was the least you could do for him. You always wanted to look pretty in front of Seonghwa. With Yunho, you hadn’t really paid much attention to how you looked- but you could start.

Especially because Yunho was, if you were honest, always a sight for sore eyes. He looked incredibly good in his uniform, in all black, just like Seonghwa did.

After changing, you turned around, admiring how well the dress fit. Yunho had a good eye, it seemed. You pinned your hair back from the front and decided that would do, applying a little makeup like you usually did. You looked much better than usual with just a little effort and that made you wonder if you should put in more effort from now on.

When the knock sounded, Byeol ran to open the door and you called her, laughing at how she rushed. She opened the door after peeking through the window, hugging Yunho immediately and he picked her as he came inside, kissing her cheek repeatedly and tickling her.

You waited for him to drop her down and when he finally did as he was standing up, he paused for a moment before smiling and walking towards you, stopping in front of you.

“Have you been well?”

“I have,” you nodded. “I hope everything went smoothly?”

“It did,” he nodded, hesitating before cupping your face with one hand and caressing it for a moment. “You look beautiful.”

Your heart did a few jumps and you thanked him. He turned to Byeol, motioning her to come to him and she did, doing a little twirl along the way.

“How do I look?” She asked.

“Let’s see… the cutest I’ve ever seen,” Yunho announced and she did a little happy dance. You went to the kitchen and called them, serving dinner. Yunho told Byeol the story of his journey- he said he made it up, but you were sure it was some truth mixed with a little imagination. It made Byeol feel very adventurous, as if there was nothing that could stop her from going on the same path as her father-

As Yunho and Seonghwa. Both.

You sometimes wonder if she really would decide to go on the same path. Would you stop her? Would Yunho stop her? You weren’t sure.

After wrapping up the kitchen while Byeol and Yunho sat in front of the fire and played, you noticed Byeol was half asleep in his arms. It always made you smile- how safe Byeol felt in Yunho’s arms when she wasn’t the type to open up to everyone.

Yunho noticed you and motioned for you to help pick Byeol up and you did, going to her room and tucking her in. Yunho kissed her forehead before turning on a small lamp and leaving the room with you.

“Tea?” You offered.

“I’ll make it,” Yunho said and you sat in front of the fire, recalling the time you had first dressed up for Seonghwa and he had looked at you with such love in his eyes that you had almost cried. And then he had called you beautiful- just like Yunho had tonight.

Yunho cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance and you took the teacup from him, taking a sip while Yunho settled himself on the couch in front of you.

"The boys are coming over tomorrow," Yunho reminded you and you nodded- you had been making sure everything was perfect for the past two days.

"Let's see who manages to win Byeol's heart this time," you smiled.

"Is there anything you need for tomorrow? I could get it in the morning-"

"No, it's alright. I’m fully prepared. I didn't have anything to do anyway so I just made sure we had enough food and wine for tomorrow."

"Sounds good," he sighed. "It's really been a while since we all gathered like this, hasn't it?"

You nodded. The boys hadn't paid a visit together, they would come alone or in pairs. You didn't mind either way. You liked having someone who would share Seonghwa's memories with you. In fact, that was the part you liked best.

"Anything happen while I was gone?"

You considered telling him about Dani, but figured you could tell him later and shook your head. "Nothing important. Just some neighbours being nosy, as usual. I shut them up with an apple pie."

"Good move," Yunho laughed, and the two of you drank the rest of your tea in silence, staring at the fire.

Being with Yunho, sitting in silence like this gave you a sense of comfort but also made you a little nervous. Your eyes trailed from his feet up to his outfit- black pants, black fitted shirt, the half sleeves really proving how well-built he was. You noticed a little scratch that ran down his forearm, and another down his neck-

Yunho caught you looking at him. To save yourself, you pointed at the scratches. Yunho hadn’t even noticed the scratch on his arm. “Would you believe me if I told you it was from a cat?”

You gaped at him. “There’s no way. Cats love you.”

Cats did, in fact, love him. Dogs did as well. It was the reason why there were so many cats and dogs around your house- Byeol would always spend hours in the afternoon playing with them. Sometimes you wonder if everyone but you loved him-

“I got too friendly with a cat, if you can believe me,” he scoffed. “Didn’t go well.”

“That’s unbelievable, actually,” you crossed your legs. “But if that’s true, you might want to get a bit too friendly with the cats outside. Byeol has made it her life’s mission to adopt every cat that even looks this way.”

Yunho laughed. “It keeps her busy, doesn’t it?”

“Keeps me busy too,” you nodded. “We leave the door open so they come and go as please- or I shoo them off.”

“And the dogs? I saw a really large cute one earlier-”

“You’ll instigate a war between cats and dogs at this rate, Yunho,” you gave him a side-eye, “Byeol is always trying to make peace and I get scared sometimes.”

“Oops,” Yunho pretended to look sorry but failed. “I’ll… do something about it.”

“Do tell Byeol whatever you plan to do because if one cat or dog goes missing, she raises hell.”

“That’s very much like Seonghwa,” Yunho laughed. “When we used to camp on the border, he’d share his ration with the animals and then steal food from us.”

You scoffed but smiled. “No wonder. Like father, like daughter. She keeps stealing something from the kitchen if she thinks one of her friends is hungry.”

“Let’s hope she shows the same spirit tomorrow with the animals coming…”

Byeol didn’t, at least for a while.

“She’s so shy and cute, I love it,” Wooyoung said, munching on a piece of garlic bread as he settled back on the sofa in defeat. “Mark my words, she’s gonna get the most friendly with me first.”

“No, it’s gonna be me,” Hongjoong slapped Wooyoung’s hand, drawing Byeol’s attention as he motioned her to come to him but Byeol only hid further in Yunho’s arms, making everyone laugh.

“She’s being mischievous, look at that smile!” Mingi said. Indeed, Byeol was passing sly looks to everyone.

“Let’s place bets,” San announced. “I’m betting on myself.”

Jongho scoffed. “Wooyoung’s going to win, San.”

San watched in horror as Wooyoung and Jongho clapped. Hongjoong betted on himself out of spite and Yunho betted on Wooyoung as well. Mingi followed, which left Yeosang and you.

“I wish I could not bet on Wooyoung, but it is Wooyoung,” he said and Wooyoung yelled in victory. Everyone looked at you to hear your final verdict as the mother.

“Well,” you scratched your chin, smiling. “It’s hard not to love Wooyoung, isn’t it?”

The silence that drew made you raise your brow. Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Did Seonghwa say that?”

It took you a moment to realise that indeed, you were quoting Seonghwa. You nodded and Wooyoung sighed, looking up, Yeosang rubbing his back. You were scared for a moment but then Wooyoung looked at you.

“He was very right,” Wooyoung grinned. “I am very hard not to love. Which is why… I win! And I’m gonna prove it! Byeol-ah, let’s play with the cats!”

That immediately caught Byeol’s attention and she hesitantly made way to Wooyoung and he took her outside. Hongjoong, who was sitting next to you, patted your shoulder. “You want to take a walk?”

You followed him outside, watching Wooyoung and Byeol play like old friends in the garden for a while and having a laugh over it before resuming walking. Hongjoong glanced at you, watching your feet with every step you took.

“How have you been, y/n?” He asked, and you knew what he meant.

“I’m… better. Sometimes I think I’m better and then something happens and I’m back to where I was.”

“Is it still too hard to think of him?” He asked.

“I don’t cry every time I think of him, that’s definitely an improvement,” you looked at Hongjoong and he nodded. “But then something reminds me of him so intensely that all of it comes like a crashing wave.”

“I understand,” he sighed. “I’ve gotten better too, especially since San and Wooyoung joined my team. They don’t even let me breathe.”

You laughed. “One thing I know is that you can’t push the memories back and shut them in a box. You… live with them.”

“That’s true,” Hongjoong asked. “And… How's Yunho?”

Hongjoong had never asked anything about you and Yunho before. Even though he was probably your closest friend, he had never done that, perhaps fearing it would be interference since you were a married couple now. So you raised a brow in question. “What exactly do you mean?”

“He’s had it tough too, being Seonghwa’s partner for the longest time. Does he talk about it to you? Because he hasn’t been talking much to us either. I’m actually worried about him.”

You frowned- Yunho always looked so optimistic, so cheerful. His presence could lift your mood, even when you did not want it. You wondered if he hurted more than you- but perhaps, you couldn’t weigh it. What he had with Seonghwa would never be the same as what you had with Seonghwa- they were two different relationships, and you couldn’t say one mattered more.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

“No, it’s okay,” you shook your head. “I’m just… surprised, is all. Yunho’s always so bright and cheerful at home, I never noticed that it was because he’s keeping it all in. I thought he talked to one of you.”

“And we were thinking he’d finally talked to you,” Hongjoong smiled. “We were all wrong, eh?”

You sighed, nodding. “I… Yunho and I… we don’t really talk much about Seonghwa. We do talk- we don’t pretend the ghost of his memory is not with us, but… I guess you could say we haven’t really had a heart to heart conversation yet. He’s only home during the weekends and I really don’t wanna spoil the time he gets to rest with me being a mess and whatnot-”

“You both need to talk, dear,” Hongjoong said. “Yunho's been a bit distracted at work recently. You know it could cost his life- being distracted. I thought something happened between you two, maybe a fight or something, but it seems like everything’s just the way it always has been?”

“Yeah, you could say,” you nodded. “I actually asked him if he regretted marrying me.” Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you and you slapped his arm. “Just listen. He said he did not. He only regrets that he can’t make me happy. He…”

You recalled what he had said that night-

"I just wish you'd talk to me more. I'm only here on the weekends and we only get to talk at night time. Even if you miss Seonghwa and want to talk about him, you know I'm here."

“I’m realising that maybe I really should talk. I’ve been such a bad person and wife, Hongjoong, I don’t know what to do about it. The shame, the disappointment in my own self, it eats me up sometimes. And everytime Yunho does something that reminds me of Seonghwa, I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay to feel that way,” Hongjoong rubbed your back. “You haven’t been a bad person or wife, you just needed time to heal and so did he. And Seonghwa… he’s always gonna come back in your head. But you don’t cry anymore. You smile when you think of him, okay? Can you do that for him?”

You laughed as you wiped a few tears away. Hongjoong continued, “You also shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything. Just… go along with the flow. It’s been three years since Seonghwa passed away- it’s time you stop crying- it breaks my heart that it still hurts you like it happened yesterday. Think about how sad and sorry Seonghwa would be if he learned you’re in this state even now.”

“I know that,” you stifled your tears. “I just… I’m trying. I’m getting there. I’ll get there.”

“I believe in you. And next time you open up to someone about how you feel and how you miss Seonghwa… it should be Yunho.”

“But you’re my big brother, aren’t you?” You said, laughing because you used to call him that when Seonghwa was alive. Seonghwa called Hongjoong ‘little brother’ and you’d team up with Hongjoong to tease Seonghwa.

“I still am, and you can still talk to me about anything,” he shook his head, smiling. “But Yunho… he needs that too. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you nodded. “I’ll really try. God, Yunho reminds me so much of Seonghwa, it just gets strange sometimes.”

“But Yunho is very different from Seonghwa too, isn’t he?” Hongjoong smiled.

He is, you knew that. Even though he was much like Seonghwa, he was very different as well. Perhaps it made it harder for you, or perhaps, that was just an excuse to justify the reason you found it hard to open up to him.

But it wasn’t about you anymore. You needed Yunho to open up to you. As a friend, you had to do that. As a wife, you should do that. He needed a shoulder as much as you needed one.

That night, you asked Yunho how it felt to have everyone home but Seonghwa. Yunho raised a brow, as if he should have asked this question. And he said exactly that.

“I’ve been seeing the boys without Seonghwa for a long time now- I guess it was a little different now that they were all here. How do you feel? Are you okay?"

"It was a good idea to have them all over,” you smiled. “It felt like Seonghwa was there too, didn’t it?”

Yunho smiled, looking down and he nodded. You scooted closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Hongjoong tells me you’re distracted at work. What’s the matter, Yunho?”

“Hongjoong said that?” Yunho was surprised. “I’m not exactly distracted. I’m fine-”

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You tugged his sleeve, making him lock eyes with you. “I know I haven’t been the best person ever and I don’t talk about myself much, but I want to start, Yunho. I also want to be someone you can talk to about anything. Can you do that?”

Yunho was confused, if he was honest. He always felt like everytime that you two made a little progress, you’d have some sort of a realisation- or worse, breakdown- when he was away, and you’d turn into the same old person who watched everything but said nothing, who never talked about her feelings, never opened up. He sometimes wondered if you hated him.

“I can, but… I’m also afraid of being hurt, y/n, by you.”

It felt like a wake-up call that you needed. So that’s how he thinks.

“I- I never thought about it like that…” you admitted, hugging yourself. “I’ve been selfish, haven’t I?”

“You are allowed to be selfish,” Yunho wore a sad smile as he said that. “About Seonghwa, at least. But… I don’t know. I know I said I’ll give you all the time in the world to open up to me, but I… I want to get closer to you because everytime I go on a mission, I realise that I don’t have the luxury of ‘time’.”

You nodded, biting your lips. Seonghwa didn’t have the luxury of time either, which was why whenever he was with you, he always made the most out of every moment. You two never wasted time on useless arguments (unless it was for fun’s sake) or fights.

“Sometimes I think I have you, y/n,” he tucked the hair that hid your face behind your ear and you felt overwhelmed by the emotions in his eyes. He dropped his hand. “And sometimes… you’re gone, just like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, that’s what’s funny about this situation,” Yunho sighed. “I feel like the bad guy everytime I talk about myself-”

“You’re making me feel like the bad guy now, thank you,” you laughed and Yunho shrugged. You crossed your legs, taking his hands and playing with them in your lap- it was the first time you really looked at his hands- how long his fingers were, how pretty his hands were. The callouses, the toughness of his hands… it was just like Seonghwa’s, yet at that moment, you didn’t really think of Seonghwa. You only saw Yunho- his hands that made you feel so safe these days.

“Can we put away our past, Yunho? Can we start new? I want to try being your wife, and by that, I mean… an actual wife. I want to be your friend. I want you to open up to me, and I want to open up to you too. I want to cook your favourite food when you come home, I want to take walks with you. I also want you to hold me if sometimes I miss Seonghwa too much and break down. And if I push you away again, I want you to run after me. Can we do that?”

Yunho’s hands trembled a little. He didn’t say anything, just watched you as your small hands held his, caressing them so delicately.

“You can take your time too,” you said. “But tonight… I want you to talk about Seonghwa. I want you to tell me if it’s hard at work. I want you to tell me if you miss him, because you always listen to me, but you’re keeping it all in, and it’s killing you, I can see it now. Why haven’t you talked to the boys, Yunho?”

“They all miss him too,” Yunho sighed. “But I… I’m burdened by his last moments. I’m burdened by the fact that I was leading the team and Seonghwa died during that mission. I always wonder if I had done one thing different-”

He looked down and his body shook. You pursed your lips to stifle your own tears and pulled him into a hug. “Let it all out. You can cry here.”

Yunho did, and it was the most heartbreaking thing ever. You couldn’t help but cry along with him. You told him again and again that it wasn’t his fault.

“It’s foolish to think of different scenarios that could have prevented his death. He was a soldier- one day or another, soldiers all meet the same fate. He was one of the King’s most trusted agents. He did his job. And he died a proud soldier, Yunho. Don’t ever think that it was your fault.”

Yunho nodded, breaking the hug and wiping his face. You rubbed his shoulders. “You’ve been so brave, going back to doing the same job again. You’re so strong. You’ve been so strong for me and Byeol too. So when you feel like this again… you talk to me, okay? I’m here for you like you’ve been here for me.”

Yunho nodded, and you leaned forward to kiss his cheek, lingering for a moment and then Yunho scooted to rest his back, holding you in his arms. “Thank you for tonight.”

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. “Thank you for everything, Yunho. Let’s be… best friends. That’s the least we can be, isn’t it?”

Yunho chuckled. “What have we been till now?”

“Housemates, I like to think,” you giggled, and Yunho thought it was the loveliest sound he had heard.

“I love that you tease and joke with me now. Please… let’s stay like this, y/n. At least like this.”

You nodded, and the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms after more teasing.

—----------------

It was the Friday of the next week that you remembered that you had forgotten about Dani and her housewarming dinner. And… you had forgotten to tell Yunho too.

Yunho wasn’t going to be a problem- he would love to visit Dani, you were aware of that. The problem was, Dani still thought Seonghwa was alive. She wasn’t aware of Yunho’s existence. And tomorrow night, when everyone in the neighbourhood will be present… you prayed that Dani could hold herself from a loud reaction, at least. The people who knew about your situation already looked at you funny.

Yunho was going to arrive in a few hours on his weekly break. You contemplated telling him about the situation- maybe you could visit Dani earlier with Yunho and let her know everything, but…

You really couldn’t handle telling Dani everything, was what you were afraid of.

To be fair, you hadn’t really sat and talked about everything that came to happen in one sitting. And you were afraid you were going to create a scene when you finally did. Just thinking about it made your chest tight and want to break down all over again.

Your train of thoughts were broken when you heard the kettle boil. You sighed, turning off the stove and staring into space until you felt Byeol tug at your dress.

“It’s time to feed the cats, mommy.”

You nodded, patting her cheek and she rushed outside with a giggle. You shook your head, smiling faintly as you mixed your tea and followed her outside with the leftovers from last night, asking Byeol to do the deed.

Byeol, happy with the responsibility, took the box from you and gathered the bowls- and the cats- and started putting equal amounts of food in the bowls. You heart swelled with adoration, thanking fates for blessing you with a sensible and lovely daughter, wondering how lucky you had been to have raised her right, but you knew-

The credit… It went to Yunho. If you were honest, the reason Byeol was such a nice daughter and person was because Yunho raised her right, always showering her with love, always being patient with her and you. You knew firsthand how kids felt if their parents weren’t on good terms with each other, and your heart swelled with pride that Yunho had never been frustrated or angry with you- not even in private. If it had just been you, Byeol wouldn’t have been such a pure soul. You didn’t even want to think about the possibility of her having an unloving father.

As if Yunho had heard you thinking about him, he popped in front of you, making you put a hand on your heart as you breathed. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” Yunho grinned. “I didn’t realise you were daydreaming.”

You passed him a sideways glance. “You’re early today. That’s surprising.”

“Got lucky,” Yunho sat down next to you. “When do you think Byeol is going to look away from the cats and notice her poor father came home to see her?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking her head at how Byeol stood with her hands on her hips as she watched the cats, making sure none of them fought over food. “She’s a soldier on duty right now, you of all people should know that look.”

Yunho laughed as he nodded. “I promised to take Byeol with me to the forest, show her some archery and let her try. Do you want to join?”

“Let’s see…” you stifled your smile, deciding it was your turn to surprise him. “Should I? Maybe you could teach me how to shoot as well.”

Yunho glanced at you, narrowing his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I’m in for a surprise?”

He found out he was right soon after. He let Byeol try first, a small bow and arrows made just for her. She wasn’t bad and you both applauded her, and then Yunho handed you his bow, teaching you how to hold it, adjusting your arms and back. You let him, pretending to be totally unaware.

“So you hold the arrow from here,” Yunho folded your fingers around the arrow. “Chin straight, like this-” he adjusted your chin. “And back straight- yes. Now, breathe. Aim. Let go.”

You nodded, aiming for the bullseye. Yunho stood wondering how far you would miss, but you hit only an inch away from the bullseye, making Yunho’s jaw drop. You flipped the stray strands of your hair, grinning shamelessly at him.

“I knew something was fishy the moment you asked me to teach you!” Yunho laughed in disbelief and Byeol finally let out a wow after having held her breath, looking at you with admiration.

“Seonghwa taught me how to shoot,” you admitted and Yunho laughed, saying of course it was him. “But I have to admit, you’re a better tutor than Seonghwa.”

“Really? How?”

“He just told me to ‘visualise’ when I couldn’t shoot properly the first two times. It didn’t end like it was supposed to,” you laughed, recalling how Seonghwa had been patient at first and then the teasing had started and you two had ended up aiming arrows at each other, betting on who would actually shoot the other. Of course, it ended with Seonghwa giving up first and then doing what he did best- shut you up with a kiss and more.

“That’s funny, since he’s the one who taught us all how to shoot,” Yunho rubbed his chin. “I guess his patience ran out with us.”

“Definitely did,” you muttered and Yunho laughed.

“Let’s go for another round. Let me see how good you are.”

You and Byeol shoot arrow after arrow, Yunho encouraging Byeol after every shot and applauding you. Your shots weren’t hundred percent accurate but they were more than enough.

That night, after dinner, washing up and putting Byeol to bed, you asked Yunho about the first time Seonghwa had taught him how to shoot.

“We were 10, I think. Seonghwa’s father was an excellent shooter so he followed in his steps. He would steal his father’s bow and come to the forest and teach us all how to use it. Hongjoong has a good eye so all it took was one look at the arrow for him to carve them himself. All we needed was the bow, and he’d bring it every other day, until his father caught him and all of us got an earful and a slap to the butt for thinking we’re better than we actually are.”

You scoffed. “I’m not surprised. How did you continue?”

“Do you think we’re the type to give up just like that?” Yunho raised a brow and you understood, nodding.

“So you continued doing the same thing? No wonder all of your parents decided the military was a good place for you lot.”

Yunho laughed and you joined, shaking your head. “Did he tell you about how we all got recruited as the King’s agents?”

“Yeah- it was you. The King chose you and Wooyoung announced either he hire the whole lot or he give you up,” you smiled. “You’re lucky to have such friends.”

“Incredibly lucky,” Yunho nodded. “Don’t you have some old friends? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned someone-”

“Good heavens, I forgot to tell you,” you sat properly, sighing. “Dani is my old friend and neighbour- Seonghwa knew her. She moved away when Seonghwa was alive and she came back two weeks ago, stopping by shortly to tell me to come to her housewarming which is… tomorrow.”

“We can go,” Yunho nodded.

“The thing is,” you sighed deeply. “She doesn’t know about Seonghwa and… you. It’s gonna be hard for her to digest this, and with everyone being there tomorrow…”

“Are you scared?” Yunho asked and you bit your lips, nodding. Yunho’s fingers brushed yours and when you didn’t pull away, he held your hand, caressing it, urging you to tell him what exactly were you scared of.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna break down when I tell her, because honestly, I haven’t really narrated all of this yet to anyone,” you shrugged, trying not to break down right then as well. “It’s going to be hard for both of us. I’m thinking up excuses to not go-”

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Yunho squeezed your hand. “Dani… she’s going to find out one day. It’s better if she hears it from you, isn’t it? And… I’ll be with you, y/n. You have nothing to be scared of.”

You spent the longest time staring at your intertwined hands, trying to recall what it was like when Seonghwa held your hands. You couldn’t remember how it felt anymore, and it made you cry and take your hand away from Yunho’s grasp, folding in on yourself and hugging yourself as you cried.

You were lying on the bed and Yunho only caressed your head, waiting for you to let it out. You wouldn’t open your eyes and the tears kept falling. When you finally did, you looked guilty.

“I sometimes try to recall how Seonghwa’s hands felt when he held or caressed my hands. When you do that to me, Yunho… for the shortest moment I’m with Seonghwa all over again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Yunho stopped caressing your head as he realised just why it was so hard for you to accept gestures like these from him. He gulped as his heart sank. “Do you think I’m Seonghwa? Do you make yourself think that? Because if you do-”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I got my lesson when I did that- if you remember from the time I kissed you.”

Yunho remembered- oh yes, he did. It was something he had never been able to forget even when you both pretended that never happened, simply because he had never seen someone look at him with such longing and desperation in their eyes. It tore him apart when he realised that you did that while thinking of Seonghwa, letting yourself believe it was Seonghwa in front of you, not Yunho.

This time, you took Yunho’s hand. “I want to be able to touch you without thinking of Seonghwa. And when I finally kiss you… I want it to be because I want you. Seonghwa was my first love but he is gone now. No one can replace that. But you… you are Yunho, not Seonghwa. And loving you, I’m finding, is very different from loving Seonghwa.”

Yunho squeezed your hand, out of breath because of your admission. You smiled faintly when you looked at him. “I have always loved you, Yunho, from the moment you became a father to Byeol. You have raised her into a beautiful person, and I give you all the credit for who Byeol is today. But now… I want to love you as my husband, not my daughter’s father. And tomorrow, when I tell Dani about you… I don’t want to break down. I want to be proud of you, my husband.”

Yunho couldn’t hold it back anymore. He pulled you in for a hug, your arms looping in his shoulders. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you and sighing as he squeezed you. “I’ve always been proud of you, from the moment you put Byeol first and decided to marry me. I would have died happy even if you did not love me, because you gave me a family. I don’t want you to do anything out of obligation-”

“You’ve been so patient with me,” you told him, caressing his head. “I want to return it. It’s not just because we’re married. It’s because I got to know you through the way you raised Byeol. I got to know you when you gave me space. I got to know you when you talk about Seonghwa. And I like that person. I want to get to know you now. Just Yunho, not the husband, not the friend, not the father… just you.” You drew back, holding his face and taking in his features. “Jeong Yunho. I want to get to know you.”

“I didn’t realise you’re so poetic, y/n,” Yunho shook his head, smiling uncontrollably.

“Well, that’s what happens when you spend too much time alone,” you scoffed. “And one thing I’ve got to know about you, Jeong Yunho, is that you really can’t stay serious, can you?”

Yunho laughed, “I was serious!”

“I mean,” you laughed, pinching his cheeks, “you always make a funny comment when you’re shy or embarrassed, when I do something like this. And then you start blushing.”

Yunho frowned, touching his cheeks and finding out he was, indeed, all hot from blushing. You giggled, pinching his flushed cheeks again. “I find it cute, so don’t shy away now.”

Yunho pouted, pushing your hands away and burying his face in the pillows, making you laugh and lie down next to him. “Let’s see how long you can hold your breath.”

Yunho shifted, staring at you, and you found his eyes flash for the briefest seconds. “Do you want me to find out how you blush? Because I don’t think I’ve really seen it, and now I really want to-”

“Okay, okay, Jeong Yunho is also a tease. I should have known,” you muttered, ignoring his question because you could already feel a blush creeping on your cheeks from the way he had looked at you and the way his voice was so low when he said that. You started towards the book at your side table but when you turned, Yunho’s face was inches away from yours and the book fell in your lap out of surprise, Yunho’s gaze making you sink down into the bed until you were lying flat and he was on top of you.

“Yunho,” your voice barely came as a whisper and you marvelled at the effect he had on you just because of his gaze- but to be fair… this gaze was too much. It was hot. He no longer had flushed cheeks, and you were pretty sure your whole face was red as he scanned it. The faint smile on his parted lips didn’t help either. He was on top of you, and you were trapped.

“Revenge is sweet,” he scoffed but his eyes shifted again as he caressed your face once. He leaned forward and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, and perhaps he was. He stopped right when your noses brushed, as if it brought him back to his senses. He drew back, surprised to not see you panicking like you used to whenever he looked at you differently or initiated physical contact. Rather, it looked like you wanted something from him.

So Yunho only planted one kiss on your cheekbone, letting his lips trail faintly down and planted one final kiss on your jaw, lingering before drawing back and caressing your face. “You’re red as a tomato.”

That did it for you. You pushed him off of you, laughing. It was your turn to hide your face in the pillows.

—----------------

The smell of roasted meat hit you as soon as you saw the bright lights of the outdoor setting Dani had done for the housewarming dinner. Byeol was a little shy as she spotted kids her age all playing together and she hid behind your dress. Yunho pinched her cheek as he chuckled, urging her to go and interact with the kids once they greet everyone.

Dani was busy grilling meat with her son- you greeted the two of them, glad to see how grown up her son was now, already a teenager. Yunho, as planned, had disappeared into the crowd of husbands, waiting for your signal so you could finally introduce him to Dani.

“Seonghwa must already have disappeared over there,” Dani tried to search him in the crowd but you shook your head.

“He’s not here,” you said and Dani frowned, but you dismissed it as you promised to tell her later about it. “Tell me, how has your life been?”

So Dani told you all about what had happened in the past few years. Some other ladies from the neighbourhood joined as you all ate, sharing stories over drinks. You felt good- you were laughing more than you usually did, you weren’t worried about anything. You decided you would meet up with people in your neighbourhood more- they were all such kind people.

When you all were done eating, you and Dani walked to where the kids all sat, playing with pebbles. Dani sighed happily. “Kids grow up so fast. I can’t believe my Channie is already at the age where we think our parents are our enemies.”

You scoffed. “I fear the possibility of Byeol being that teenager, but I know no matter how good kids are and how good their parents are, they go through that. It’s natural.”

“Yep. I feel sorry for my poor mother who had to deal with hot headed teenage Dani,” she pursed her lips, grinning. “She must have had a blast.”

“Definitely,” you chuckled, watching Byeol play her turn and throw the pebbles in the air and then catching them. “Dani… I have something to tell you.”

Dani raised her brows at your sombre tone. “What?”

You took a deep breath, turning to face her, hugging yourself not because of the chill breeze but because you needed it more. “Seonghwa… passed away two months after Byeol was born.”

The faint smile fell from Dani’s face and her eyes widened in horror. “But- you-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have the strength to tell you,” you smiled sadly. “You came in such a rush, and I was surprised, and honestly… It has been hard even talking about it. But I’m getting better now.”

“I… I am so sorry, y/n,” Dani’s eyes were wet with tears that finally fell when she hugged you and cried. “Seonghwa… He was like a brother to me, you know that. He’s in a better place now, isn’t he?”

“He must be,” you hugged her back. “Watching over Byeol, a star in the sky.” You broke the hug, wiping her tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t return your letters. It was… really hard.”

“I understand, you have nothing to apologise for,” Dani wiped her face.

“I also want you to meet someone,” you smiled and Dani frowned in confusion. You looked back at the crowd, finding Yunho already looking in your direction. You nodded and he hesitated before coming forward, joining you.

“This is Jeong Yunho. Seonghwa’s best friend, my best friend… and my husband. Byeol wouldn’t know the love of a father without him.”

Dani smiled, greeting Yunho. Yunho looked at you, “Y/n’s told me a lot about you, Dani.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“All good things,” Yunho confirmed with a smile. “I hope you’ll come over for tea soon. It’s a lovely dinner party you’ve hosted.”

“Thank you, Yunho, and I… will. Soon. She and I have a lot of catching up to do,” she winked at you.

Yunho nodded, patting your back before leaving you two. Dani wiped her tears, laughing in disbelief and happiness. “I… I’m proud of you, y/n. It must have been such a difficult decision to make. Tell me you’re happy with him.”

“I am,” you admitted, wiping your own tears. “I’m so grateful to him. He’s loved Byeol like a father even before we were married.”

You told Dani about how you had known Yunho since you met Seonghwa’s group of friends. You told her about how Seonghwa passed away in a mission with Yunho and Yunho blamed himself out of guilt, how he loved Byeol even before your marriage and how it was Seonghwa’s mother, of all the people, who arranged this marriage. You told her about how it was so hard at first but you couldn’t think of a better partner and father of your child.

“I was so unfair with him, Dani,” you sighed, resting your head on her shoulder. “All he’s done is given me space and love and all I did was push him away. I finally realised how stupid I’ve been.”

“You needed time, don’t beat yourself over it,” Dani patted your shoulder. “And he’s a good man if he gave you all the time and space you needed. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“I’m finally moving on with life. Saying that I’m moving on from Seonghwa… that wouldn’t be fair, would it?” You thought. “Seonghwa will always be in my heart. But Yunho… I think I love him too.”

“Seonghwa would be happy for you two, and he would be so proud of his best friend and his wife,” Dani smiled. “See that? The brightest star? That’s definitely Seonghwa, twinkling because he’s pissed at you for thinking all the negative stuff-”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “He’s twinkling because he’s happy for us, and he’s watching Byeol.”

“Definitely,” Dani nodded, noticing the guests calling her over. “Let’s do the rest of catching up later. It’s time to see everyone off.” She got up, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Just for the record… Yunho better be ready to spoil me like Seonghwa did.”

You laughed, letting her know that you’ll have to tell Yunho just what he was in for.

—------------------

Seonghwa’s mother dropped by the following Wednesday. She had informed you by a letter two days before and you had been preparing for her arrival, and Byeol had been the most excited, running around the house because ‘granny’ was finally visiting after months.

And Granny was pleasantly surprised to see how much brighter the house looked- not just in the decor that had changed a lot since her last visit, but the mood. She was pleased inside to see the positive smile on your face this time as you hugged her.

“It’s been far too long, my daughter, I’m sorry for being late,” she kissed your cheek and smiled before looking at Byeol. “Let me see… who is this kid? I don’t remember Byeol being so big!”

“I’ve grown!” Byeol clung to her grandmothers’ knee and the two of you laughed over the gesture.

You let the two catch up while you set the table. After dinner and a lot of playing with Byeol, after which she passed out in her grandmother’s arms, you put her to bed and sat by the fireplace with Seonghwa’s mother, a cup of coffee in both your hands.

“Is it time I finally comment on how happier and healthier you look since the last time I saw you?” Seonghwa’s mother smiled knowingly. “For the first time, I feel relieved.”

You looked down, smiling. “I realised a lot of things in the past few months, things I had turned a blind eye to.”

“How did it happen?” She sighed happily. “What changed you, y/n?”

You stared at the fire. “I don’t think there’s one moment that changed it, mother. A lot of small moments collected in my heart, until it was so full of all the love Yunho gave me. Until all the space he gave me… ran out. He made me really look at him.”

“And how do you feel about all of this?”

“I have finally figured out what to do with my heart,” you laughed. “Seonghwa… he’ll always stay. I had been trying to forget him, but I realised I didn’t have to forget him to move on. I have to remember him. He’ll always be a part of my life. Having Yunho… that won’t change anything.”

“Finally,” Seonghwa’s mother groaned uncharacteristically and you gaped at her as she flipped her hair haughtily. “You’d think me telling you the same thing over and over would have done the trick, but no. I guess it must be Yunho who somehow made you realise that.”

You smiled sheepishly and she gave you a teasing glance. You shook your head, “It’s like you’ve been far too eager for this to happen, haven’t you?”

“I just want to see you all truly happy,” she smiled. “I’m glad you finally understand that you can still be happy, y/n. I’m sure Seonghwa is also as relieved as I am.”

“He must be, right?” You looked up, trying to push back the tears. “I miss him so much, still.”

“I do too,” his mother smiled. “It’s not something we have control over, is it?”

“Not really,” you wiped your eyes. “How did you… cope with it, mom? After your husband passed away?”

“Ironically, like you,” she laughed and you gave her a sideways glance, smiling. “The first few years were horrible. Seonghwa had a tough time too, he was only 14. It took us both some patience and time because we strayed away from each other too. We realised later that we were on the same boat. Then, we stopped hating each other. We became each other’s comfort.”

“And did you never consider remarrying?”

“I did, actually,” she admitted and you were surprised. “But not because Seonghwa needed a father. No one could replace that anymore. I guess I was lonely. I needed someone to love. I only talked about the possibility once with Seonghwa, and it didn’t end well. He told me I didn’t need anyone as long as he was alive. Well, 14 years old think they have everything, don’t they?”

You scoffed. “I can’t believe Seonghwa said that. I thought he would have encouraged you.”

“The Seonghwa you know would have encouraged this, yes,” she laughed. “But the teenager Seonghwa? I’m glad you didn’t meet him.”

The two of you shared a good laugh. You sighed, “You must have been lonely.”

“In some ways, yes, I was. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t,” she relaxed back. “But I got used to it. And now that Seonghwa is no more… I feel like I’m all alone in this world. Thanks to Byeol and you, I’m not completely hopeless. And Seonghwa’s friends… they all make me forget about Seonghwa’s absence whenever they visit.”

You nodded- having them over really felt like Seonghwa was there too. You told her about their visit and how Hongjoong knocked some sense into you too.

“Yunho’s my son too,” Seonghwa’s mother finally said when you stopped talking. “And if you two are really going to move forward together… I would be the happiest mother.”

—---------------

“Checkmate.”

“Checkmate to you,” Yunho knocked the very piece you had knocked Yunho’s with, making you gape.

“How!”

Yunho showed you just where you made the mistake. You only shook your head. “It’s your stupid luck that always makes you win. Seonghwa said you’re one lucky bastard.”

“He was right,” Yunho laughed, wrapping up the chessboard and pieces off the bed. “I always win.”

You folded your arms, your jaw tense. Yunho noticed that, snickering to himself. “You want to go again?”

“I’m good,” you huffed, straightening your legs and resting your back, not looking at him. Yunho decided it was a good time to poke your stomach and you jumped more because of the surprise, putting a hand over your mouth as you crawled to the opposite side of the bed.

“Yunho! Mother’s in the next room with Byeol, don’t make me shout at you!”

Yunho laughed, running a hand through his dark locks and you crossed your legs, glaring at him. “You want some snacks? I’m craving something.”

“Mom brought a box of chocolates, it’s in the kitchen.”

Yunho nodded, disappearing out of the room and you leaned back, resting your back against the bed, crossing your legs and smiling to yourself, wiping it immediately when you spotted Yunho coming back, realising that you must look lovesick smiling like that to yourself- but you had been doing that a lot.

“These are good,” Yunho tossed you two and you unwrapped one, popping it in your mouth. “I don’t need to save them for Byeol, do I?”

“She gets a separate box,” you rolled your eyes. “You’d think mother would get me a separate box too- she knows I love chocolates!”

“You’re not her priority anymore,” Yunho teased, sitting in front of you.

“I am no one’s priority, it seems,” you huffed.

Yunho watched you for a moment too long before he put his head in your lap and looked at you, upside down. “You’ve always been my first priority. You’re stupid if you don’t realise that.”

Your heart did a dangerous swoop and you put a chocolate in his mouth to shut him up, which he ate, grinning. You gave in, smiling and running your hands through his hair.

“Thank you, Yunho.”

“For what?” His eyes were shut, relaxed as you caressed his head.

“For being… you,” you laughed. “You know what I mean, right?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think I do. You mind telling me clearly? Just so I can memorise it properly?”

You slapped his cheek lightly, making him smirk harder. “It’s hard to put it in words, you just… you’re…”

So good to me. So lovable. My strength.

You caressed Yunho’s cheek and he lay there so peacefully, in your lap. He fit right there, as if he was made to. Your heart longed for him even though he was so close to you. Words failed you, so you-

You leaned forward and kissed his lips, a short but sure one so he’d know what you meant without the words.

When you drew back, his lips were parted and his eyes were still closed, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. For a moment, irrational fear gripped you-

“What are you thinking?” You whispered.

Yunho finally opened his eyes and looked at you- the gaze gripping you. “You know what you did, right?”

You nodded- if he needed any confirmation, you’d give him. You’d clear his doubts. So you pecked his lips again, still upside down. Yunho sighed and then he got up, turning and crawling so painfully slowly on top of you, his gaze pinning you down. He kissed your forehead first, lingering there as his hand cupped your face- so small in his hand. He looked at you each time he kissed your cheeks, a faint smile on his lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

The fact that he asked, it broke your heart. You put your arms around his neck. “You never have to ask again, Yunho. I’m all yours.”

Yunho nodded as if he still couldn’t believe it, caressing your face so lovingly that it made you groan- the longing in his eyes… you couldn’t take it anymore. He finally kissed you then, and it wasn’t an innocent peck. It made you moan into it right away, made you hold him tighter, made him groan into it as well as he kissed you passionately, cupping your face with both his hands now, each kiss deeper than the previous one until you two broke apart, gasping not only because you were out of breath.

You wrapped yourself around him and he pulled you up so you were sitting in his lap and hugging him. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, swaying you back and forth ever so slowly. He breathed once, and then he pecked your neck. You subconsciously tilted your neck, allowing him to draw your hair away and really kiss you on the neck like he had wanted to for so long, planting some everywhere until he found the one spot that made you shift in his hold, and he decided that was where he was going to keep kissing you until you were a mess and your breath hitched.

When you moaned his name, he pushed you back to bed again and kissed you, this time soft and so incredibly slow that it made your legs weak. You lay there, with only the strength to caress his hands that held you.

“I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time,” he laughed a bit, kissing your cheek. “I’m sorry if it was too much-”

“No, it’s perfect, Yunho-” you bit your lips. “Keep going.”

His eyes flashed and he nodded, joining your lips again. The two of you fell in a rhythm, kissing like you two had all the time in the world, and at that moment, you really did. You soon shifted, making him lie down so you could get on top of him and return the favour.

The two of you fell asleep planting lazy kisses on each other’s faces.

—--------------------

“Hello, Seonghwa.”

The cool breeze blew your hair to one side and you tucked them behind your ears, taking a deep breath. You smiled.

“I hope you’re still watching over me and Byeol. It’s been three years without you, but it feels like yesterday.”

You put the single red rose you had plucked from your garden earlier on his grave and stood back up, looking at the clear evening sky.

“I miss you everyday. I think about you everyday. I hope you don’t think I’ve forgotten you- I could never.”

You recalled the time Seonghwa and you had been on the hills right at the outskirts of the town. Seonghwa had been holding you in his arms, half lying down. The two of you were star-gazing. Seonghwa asked you what you would do if he ever died on a mission.

“First of all,” you got up and turned, slapping his arm, “Don’t stay stuff like that!”

“I’m just asking,” Seonghwa laughed, putting his hands in the air, surrendering. “I just… you know how it was a big decision for me to marry you and even be in a relationship with you in the first place. After looking at my mom’s life, I thought I would never do that to someone- never love and leave them hanging. But you, you just…”

“Yeah, am I to blame?” You teased, “I mean… it was the both of us. I knew what I was getting into when I said yes.” You stared at your wedding ring.

“So that’s why I’m asking,” Seonghwa put his hands on your waist and pulled you back in your original position, your head resting on his chest. “If something happened to me, what do you think you would do?”

“Let’s see… move on? I mean, three days of mourning are enough-”

“Can you stop teasing me?” Seonghwa laughed and you sighed, looking up at him. You cupped his face, tracing his cheekbone and taking in how lovely he looked illuminated by the moonlight.

“Do you think I could ever move on? After loving you? After knowing what it feels like to be loved by you? I would break. I would shatter into a million pieces, but yes, I would still have to be strong for you. I would put back all my pieces and glue them, but a broken thing remains broken even when it’s glued back.”

Seonghwa sighed, kissing you deeply and lingering as he drew back. “I wouldn’t want you to give up on life and love.”

“Well, what would you do if I died first?” You raised a brow. “Sure, you knock at death’s door everyday, but I could very well be the first one to die. What would you do?”

That made Seonghwa understand- he wasn’t sure if he could even glue himself back if he broke. Seonghwa nodded, hugging you. You rubbed his back. “I would also want you to move on, to live and love. That’s who we are, Seonghwa. To live and love again wouldn’t mean that our relationship meant nothing.”

How ironic it was that you, who said those words, forgot them altogether- or rather, forcefully shut them away.

“I’m sorry for being someone you wish I wouldn’t be, for the past three years,” you stared at the rose that lay on the brown dust, a striking contrast. “And also… thank you for giving me Byeol. I don’t think I would be standing here, happy and healthy if it wasn’t for your one last gift.”

Seonghwa didn’t think it was practical to have a child in his field. He had seen so many examples- men leaving their children to their mothers and dying. The children broken, the wives helpless. Especially in this era, with the ever growing threat of war- he thought at least soldiers should be single.

He didn’t realise how wrong he was, until he encountered you in the hills when some enemies were after him. You were plucking daisies with the most innocent look on your face, and his heart was beating louder than ever in fear that his enemies would take you instead of him if they saw you. So he took your hand and ran, the daisies dropping. The sound of arrows whooshing past you two shut you up when you shouted for help, realising that the man who was running with you wasn’t the threat but the saviour.

You two hid behind a tree and Seonghwa feared that this would be the end- at least of him. He was defenceless. But you- you looked him in the eyes and knew immediately that you could trust him. You handed him the sharp knife you’d brought with yourself and he frowned- this wasn’t one to cut flowers or fruits.

“You never know what could happen in the forest,” you whispered, shrugging, and bent down to fist some dirt in your hands.

As soon as Seonghwa heard the men, he put himself in action- you were mesmerised by the way he moved. You threw the dirt on the man’s face who thought he got Seonghwa, saving him. In a matter of moments, the three men were dead.

Seonghwa swept his dark hair back and looked at you, shaking his head as he smiled. “Thank you- you saved my life.”

“I’m pretty sure you would have been okay without my help too,” you gulped as you looked at the bodies. “Can you take me back? I don’t know my way around here.”

That was the first time he met you. He searched for you around town for months, hoping to become your friend at least, and finally, he saw you one day in the market and gave you a bouquet of roses as a thank you gift.

After marriage, it was Seonghwa who asked you if you wanted a child- you knew Seonghwa wasn’t a fan of having children with his job, but when he asked you, you were surprised.

“What changed?” You asked.

“Now that I have you, I finally understand why people have families. They have something to live for, something to fight for. Something to come back home for. And also… you’ll be less lonelier too, isn’t that right?”

You laughed, hugging Seonghwa. “I knew you’d change your mind one day, that’s why I didn’t insist on having children.”

“You know me well,” Seonghwa laughed, hugging you back. “So?”

You drew back, thinking, the smile on your face growing wider. You kissed him long and hard. “I’d be fine either way. It’s up to you.”

And if you ever thought Seonghwa would be an awkward parent, you were so wrong. For the two months that he was with his daughter, you found him to be a natural parent. He made it his life’s mission to not let you even frown or get tired or overwhelmed by the baby. You’d always laugh and ask him to give it a rest, but it was like he knew that he didn’t have much time with the baby.

Byeol was so loved, you realised. So blessed to have Seonghwa as her father. You prayed she’d grow up to be like Seonghwa too. Especially since Seonghwa’s last wish was something along those lines-

“My little star,” Seonghwa kissed Byeol’s forehead, “Don’t make mom too tired, okay? I know you’re going to be a patient and loving daughter. You’re going to be just like me.”

“Come on,” you teased Seonghwa, “Just like you?”

“Just like me,” he smiled and placed Byeol back on the bed, turning to you and spreading his arms. You wrapped your arms around his waist, listening to his heartbeat. He didn’t break the hug for the longest time, his face buried in your neck.

You were the first to break your hug and you swept his hair back as you held his face, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” he sighed. “I’m scared to go now that I have Byeol to worry about too.”

“You’re so brave, Seonghwa,” you straightened his collar, resting your hands on his chest. “You make Byeol and I proud every time you go to fight for your country- so that your wife and child, so that other mothers and childrens have a safe place to live in. You have nothing to be scared of.”

Seonghwa nodded. “You always know the right thing to say.”

You only smiled, the two of you leaning forward for a kiss- Seonghwa took his time kissing you, and if you had known that was the last time he was going to kiss you, you would have never let him go.

You came back from memory lane, taking a deep breath. “This is the first time I’ve come with Yunho. He loves me, Seonghwa. He loves Byeol like you loved her. And I… I’m doing what you told me to. I’m alive again, Seonghwa.”

You wiped the tears that threatened to roll down your face. You looked back, where Yunho and Byeol waited for you and you motioned them to come. Yunho picked Byeol in her arms and stood by your side.

“Look at Byeol- how loved she is. You have nothing to worry about, Seonghwa,” you smiled.

Yunho handed Byeol to you and you were about to give him some space as well but he held your hand, urging you to stay. He sat down beside the grave, rubbing the mud of his grave.

“I’m sorry for blaming myself all these years,” Yunho began, “I know you told me that it’s not my fault, but I know you would have been the same if it was me in your place.”

You sighed internally- Yunho really had it hard, just like you. Yunho placed the pebbles that he held in his hand around the roses.

“We’re soldiers. We live short, meaningful lives- and if we’re lucky, we live long. You lived so well, Seonghwa. I admired you for having the courage to start a family. Then I kind of hated you for leaving them so broken- but now… now that I’ve known the joy of a family… I admire you even more.”

He got up, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I loved Byeol the moment I saw her. I hope I can be a father she can be proud of, and I’ll make sure she’s also proud of you. I’ll tell her about your life, and hope she can get to know who her father really was. And I…”

Yunho looked at you, smiling. “I don’t know when it happened, but I fell in love with her too. I hope we can heal each other and be each other’s comfort for as long as we live. I hope you’ll be proud of us, Seonghwa.”

You smiled back, leaning into him.

—-----------------

It felt like you were a little teen who was dating again.

It felt stupid- that you cared so much about how you looked, that you blushed again. It was bittersweet, this feeling of getting to know someone more with each passing day and falling deeper in love. Of being anxious- did he love you back? Did he love you like you did?

You never thought you’d be happy again, but you were. Sometimes you got scared- if something happened to Yunho, you wouldn’t make it this time, you didn’t care whether you had a daughter to worry about too. Of course after what happened with Seonghwa, you couldn’t possibly heal if you lost Yunho too. So you only prayed for one thing- to live a long, happy and healthy life with Yunho.

Yunho was… handsome in every way- in his appearance, in his manners, in the way he talked, the way he laughed. He was heartwarming, a ball of sunshine in your life. Where Seonghwa had been like loving the moon, Yunho was like loving the sun. He made you love things that you once hated, and you couldn’t believe how he did that.

Yunho was someone you hugged more and couldn’t get enough of it. His hugs made you feel safe and warm. His kisses made you feel loved and beautiful. His touch made you feel hopeful.

You wondered if this was fate’s play- what a mysterious thing it was that you were meant to love Seonghwa and Yunho. Everything felt right with Seonghwa, and everything felt right with Yunho too.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Yunho, who held you in his arms in front of the fireplace, whispered in your ear, trailing kisses down your neck.

“If I told you,” you said, smirking, “I’m not sure if you’d blush and leave or take me right here.”

Good thing Byeol went to stay with her grandmother- your grandmother insisted you two needed some time alone now that you were finally moving on and oh, she was right. Byeol was big enough to stay with her grandmother- she loved it there because she had friends her age too, and her grandmother was ‘more fun than mom and dad combined’ according to Byeol.

“You wanna bet on it?” Yunho challenged, tilting your chin so he could lock eyes with you. You swooned at how hot his gaze was. “What, exactly, are you thinking, my love?”

“Let’s see,” you sighed. “I’m thinking about this,” you kissed the edge of his lips. “And this,” you got on top of him, straddling him and kissing his lips briefly but surely. “And this,” you rolled your hips over him, making him groan. “What do you think?”

Yunho chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine you doing this if Byeol would have been home-”

“There you go. You lost the bet,” you grinned. “You always try to distract me when you feel shy. It’s not gonna work tonight, Jeong Yunho.”

Yunho only did that because he needed a moment. And then he tucked your hair behind your ears, his large hands cupping your face as he kissed you like his entire being urged him to, with a force that made you arch back and back until you were on the floor, and he, on top of you. Where he belonged.

“Should we take this to bed, or is this more thrilling?” Yunho whispered, not even waiting for a response as he started trailing kisses down your neck and unbuttoning whatever prevented him from being skin on skin.

“I’m good,” you moaned, helping him out and then kissing him again. “I’m all yours.”

708 notes · View notes

bearxgyeomie · 15 days ago

Text

The Paradox of Us

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: Relationships are rarely as simple as they seem. It becomes heartbreakingly complicated when two souls, bound by a love that still burns bright, come to realise that sometimes, love alone may not be enough to keep them together.

A/N: Seonghwa's 踊り子 (odoriko) cover has been on repeat since the moment it came out. I couldn't get it out of my mind and just knew I'd never forgive myself if I didn't write anything inspired by it.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

"I don't love you."

Strangely, those words would have been easier to bear. But instead, you heard the ones that shattered you in ways you never thought possible: "I love you so much... but we can't go on like this anymore."

The ache was unbearable, as if your heart was tearing itself apart with every replay of his broken voice in your mind. You would have preferred if he had said his love had faded, that the spark was gone. At least then, you could grieve, accept, and move forward. But no—he still loved you. Deeply. And that cruel truth left you stuck in a purgatory of emotions, unable to let go.

Yet, you understood him. You always did. And perhaps that was the most painful part of all—knowing he was right. You had felt it too, this growing divide neither of you could bridge. But you hadn't been brave enough to say it aloud, to admit that love wasn't enough to hold together two people who simply weren't meant to be.

So, he said it for you. And now, all you had was the emptiness of what could have been, and the love that would never quite fade.

"It'll be alright, sweetie. Time heals everything," your mother murmured, her hand gently rubbing your back as you blinked away tears and refused to meet her gaze. Her tone was soft, even comforting, but you couldn't stand it—not when she sat there pretending she hadn't played a pivotal role in this heartbreak. You could almost feel her satisfaction simmering beneath the surface, hidden behind her facade of concern. After all, hadn't she always believed he would never measure up? That he was never good enough for you?

You hated it—hated her.

Hated how she had turned your relationship with him into a battlefield, her disapproval so loud, so ever-present, that it became impossible for him to feel at home in your life. How dare she sit beside you now, feigning sorrow, when her constant criticisms had planted the seed of doubt that grew into the conclusion you dreaded? How dare she, of all people, offer comfort when she had made you believe that love—your greatest love—wasn't enough?

Her words echoed in your mind, the ones she'd repeated time and time again: "Love and compatibility aren't the same. Love is powerful, yes, but relationships are more than just feelings—they require shared values, aligned goals, and practical compatibility." She had said it so often that it became a mantra, one you tried to ignore until it became impossible.

And then there was him.

You hated him too—hated him for giving in, for not fighting harder, for agreeing with everyone else. For being too selfless, too considerate, too good. He'd always told you, "Family comes first. Everything else—including me—comes second." You hated that he meant it. Hated that he let you go because he believed it was the right thing to do, the thing that would hurt the least.

But most of all, you hated yourself.

Hated yourself for knowing, deep down, that they were all right. That maybe love really wasn't enough. You hated yourself for being too afraid to defy them, too afraid to risk it all for him. While he was brave enough to let you go, and your mother was relentless in her convictions, you had been the coward. You let everyone else make the choice for you because you couldn't bear to make it yourself.

And now, you were left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of what-ifs and the haunting ache of knowing you had lost not because you didn't love enough, but because you hadn't been brave enough to fight for that love.

"The right person will come along," she said softly. You pressed your eyes shut, swallowing the lump rising in your throat. Without another word, you pushed yourself up from the dining chair, leaving your barely touched meal behind, and headed to your room.

Before you could step through the door, her voice followed you, cutting through the air like a knife. "You'll thank me one day when you meet a man who can give you all the things that boy never could."

Your fists clenched as you slammed the door shut behind you. Sliding down to the floor with your back against the wood, you let her words fester. Maybe she was right. You weren't getting any younger. Around you, friends and cousins were all settling down with partners your mother would call 'suitable.' And you hated it—hated that, in her eyes, Seonghwa could never be that person for you.

But then, the thought struck: you were your mother's daughter. How much of this was truly her fault? At some point, hadn't you begun to believe her? Slowly, insidiously, her words had taken root in your mind. You did this. To him, to yourself.

You remembered watching others build their perfect, storybook lives with partners who ticked every box society demanded. And you wondered—quietly at first, then louder—if you and Seonghwa could ever achieve the same. Could he be that for you? Could you be that for him?

It wasn't fair. Not to him, not to you. You hated yourself for the way doubt crept in, for how your mother's voice echoed in your head, pointing out the cracks and differences you had tried so hard to ignore. You hated yourself for wishing things could be different, for swallowing those thoughts because you loved him too much to ask him to change. He was who he was—his own person.

How could you ask him to mould himself into someone your mother would approve of? Someone society deemed 'right' for you? And if he did, would he even be the man you fell in love with?

It was those questions, those doubts, that began to live rent-free in your mind. Bit by bit, they widened the gap between you. And Seonghwa wasn't blind. He saw it. He felt it.

"You deserve someone better—someone who can give you so much more," he had said that final night, his voice breaking under the weight of goodbye.

It was your fault—your doubts, your actions, your silence. They had pushed him to that conclusion. And now, as the door behind you trembled with your suppressed sobs, you wondered: How dare you blame your mother for what you had done to him? To yourself?

How dare you?

"Gaming at San's place next, you coming?" Wooyoung asked, tossing a napkin onto the table as everyone scrambled to leave. The ridiculous game they'd invented—where the last one to leave had to pay the bill—had everyone laughing and darting for the exit.

Seonghwa's smile barely touched his lips as he shook his head and reached for his wallet. "Go on with them. I'll cover it."

The younger man hesitated, glancing at him before blurting out, "Dude, you can't always give in like this. Your poor financial planning skills are exactly why she left you."

The table fell silent, the air suddenly heavy. Wooyoung's grin faltered as he realised what he'd said, too late to take it back. Seonghwa didn't flinch outwardly, but the words sliced deep because they were true. Partly, at least.

It wasn't like he made much, not compared to the rest of his friends with their steady corporate jobs. And yet, he wasn't careful with what little he had. You had always been the one saving, planning, building a future he could barely contribute to. People his age were buying cars, investing in property, making strides toward a stable life. But he wasn't like them. He had chased his passion as a figurine crafter—a dream that didn't come with a steady paycheck—and he'd known the risks. Your mother was right: you deserved someone who could offer you the stability he never could.

"Hey, man," Wooyoung said quickly, guilt colouring his tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I got the bill already, so don't worry about it. Just come with us tonight, yeah? Relax a little."

But the eldest only gave a faint shake of his head. The apology didn't soften the truth of the remark. He was the reason things fell apart. Not because he didn't love you enough—he loved you too much—but because love wasn't enough.

He'd failed you. Failed to provide the kind of life you deserved. He couldn't believe you'd even agreed to be with him in the first place, so different were your worlds. Your family background, your education, your values, your ambitions—they all set you apart. He had nothing to offer someone like you. And yet, he had been selfish enough to hold on, to want you despite knowing he could never measure up.

He should have worked harder. Should have tried to step up and be the man you needed. But he hadn't, because deep down, he knew he couldn't. Perhaps he had always known it wouldn't last. That one day, you'd wake up and realise the same.

You didn't leave right away. You stayed longer than he deserved. And when you finally began pulling away, when the signs became impossible to ignore, he had to let go. It wasn't courage that made him end it—it was inevitability.

"Come with us, hyung," Wooyoung tried again, his voice gentler this time.

But Seonghwa shook his head once more. "You guys go ahead without me. I... I have somewhere to be."

It was a lie, and they all knew it. He had nowhere to be. Nowhere that mattered, at least. Just his empty apartment, where the echoes of your absence would greet him like old, familiar ghosts.

He didn't care if they saw through the lie. What mattered was that he deserved this—the loneliness, the self-pity, the regret. He had almost broken you apart from your family because he was selfish enough to believe his love was enough. He had almost stolen your future because he couldn't face the truth.

But now, it was over. You had given him the courage to do what was right in the end. He was grateful for that. Grateful you'd started pulling away. Grateful you'd given him the signs. Grateful you'd broken his heart with the words he couldn't bear to say himself.

It's time.

Time to stop pretending.

Time to let you go.

Time to let the misery end.

Yes, let it all go. Let the misery end.

He repeated the words in his head like a chant as he drove, gripping the steering wheel tighter with each mile. The familiar streets blurred past him, their lights shimmering in his tear-filled eyes. He swiped at his face with his sleeve, but the tears kept coming, warm and unrelenting. He hated himself for it. Hated that, even now, he could almost see you sitting beside him, your laughter echoing faintly in his memory.

These night drives had been your sanctuary. Just you and him, wrapped in the quiet of the world, as if nothing else mattered. Not the expectations, not the disapproving glances, not the relentless whispers about how you two didn't belong together. It had always been just you and him against everything.

But now, it was just him.

He didn't dare glance at the passenger seat. He couldn't bear the sight of its emptiness, couldn't face the truth of your absence. His mind played cruel tricks on him, filling the silence with phantom conversations, fleeting glimpses of your smile.

Everything around him reminded him of you. The way the streetlights hit the pavement, the faint smell of your favourite perfume lingering in his car, the songs on the radio you'd sing along to when you thought he wasn't paying attention. He wanted to escape it, but he knew going home would only make it worse.

Home.

The word felt hollow now. How could it be home when you weren't there? Every corner of that apartment held traces of you—the books you'd stacked neatly on the shelf, the coffee mug you always left on the counter, the sheets that still carried the faintest scent of your shampoo. He knew he should let those remnants go, pack them away, make it easier to move on. But the thought of erasing you felt like losing you all over again.

As the weight of it all pressed down on him, he slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road. His hands trembled as he rested his forehead against the steering wheel, the cool leather grounding him for just a moment.

Is this hurting you too?

He wondered if you were struggling as much as he was. Part of him selfishly hoped you were, that you missed him the way he missed you. But another part—the part that loved you more than he loved himself—hoped you were finding peace. Hoped you were happier without him, that his decision to let you go had given you the chance to find the stability, the life, you deserved.

Clutching a hand to his chest, he finally let the tears fall freely. The ache in his heart felt unbearable, like a piece of him had been ripped away and might never grow back. Would he ever be okay again? Would he ever know happiness without you?

He didn't know.

He wasn't sure he wanted to. But he told himself, over and over, that this was the right thing to do. It didn't matter if he was happy. It didn't matter if he felt whole again. All that mattered was you. And as he sat there, broken and lost, he prayed you were finding the happiness he couldn't give you, even if it meant he would never find it again.

It's okay... she'll find the right person now.

The right person. Who even decided what that meant? Who had the authority to label someone as right or wrong for you?

Maybe it was the lingering ache for Park Seonghwa, the way his name still carried the weight of memories you hadn't yet learned to let go. Or maybe it was the frustration bubbling inside you, resentment toward your parents for tricking you into meeting this man—the son of your father's business partner—the one they couldn't stop praising.

Jung Yunho, the perfect man, as they called him. He was everything they'd ever wanted for you, a textbook example of stability, charm, and success. But the problem wasn't him. It was you. You weren't ready, not yet. Maybe not ever. Years had passed since the breakup, but the ghost of what you had with Seonghwa still clung to you, a shadow that even time couldn't chase away.

"Hey," Yunho's voice pulled you back from your spiralling thoughts. His gaze, warm and sincere, met yours as he leaned in slightly. "You feeling alright?"

Caught off guard, you glanced down at your untouched plate of steak and managed a small nod. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

But he didn't look convinced. Instead, his lips curved into a soft, reassuring smile—the kind that could probably disarm anyone, just not you. "How could I not, when such a pretty lady is sulking before me?" he teased gently. Before you could reply, he reached across the table, taking your plate without hesitation. "Here, let me help you."

With careful precision, he began cutting the steak into neat, bite-sized pieces. The gesture was so thoughtful, so kind, and yet it left you feeling hollow. It wasn't the act itself—it was the way it lacked the weight of familiarity.

Seonghwa used to do the same thing, but it had always been different with him. He'd grumble playfully about how you'd never learn to do it yourself, though he never minded doing it for you. His hands were smaller, more delicate, and you'd always find yourself staring at the faint scars from his crafts. Yunho's hands, while steady and practised, didn't hold the same history.

"All done," Yunho said cheerfully, sliding the plate back to you. "Now you have no excuse not to eat."

You forced a polite smile, murmuring a quiet "thank you" as you picked up your fork. Yunho didn't seem to notice the distant look in your eyes, or perhaps he was kind enough not to point it out.

He was wonderful. Thoughtful, patient, and sincere. By all accounts, he was the right person. But as you sat there, forcing yourself to chew, you couldn't help but wonder:

What if the right person wasn't the one who checked all the boxes? What if they were the one who didn't, but still felt like home?

The rest of the night crawled by like a snail, every passing second stretching unbearably long. You shifted in your seat, wishing you were anywhere but here. Yunho was a great guy—attentive, charming, and genuinely kind. But that only made it worse. He deserved someone who could meet his enthusiasm with equal fervour, someone who didn't have her mind wandering to someone else entirely.

You sighed quietly, pushing your barely touched drink to the side. What the hell was wrong with you? This was what you'd agreed to, wasn't it? This was what you'd sacrificed so much for. Years ago, you walked away from the love of your life because it felt like the right thing to do, to pursue the kind of stability and compatibility everyone insisted was more important than love alone. And now here it was, right in front of you.

The right person.

Yet, as you glanced at Jung Yunho's radiant smile, so effortlessly warm, the thought of spending the rest of your life with him felt less like the happy ending you'd envisioned and more like a cage. A beautiful, gilded cage that offered everything a woman could ever ask for—security, stability, admiration. Everything except the one thing your heart still longed for.

All you could ever find inside yourself was the same man you'd tried so hard to let go of.

Park Seonghwa.

Your chest tightened at the thought of him, your mind betraying you with memories you'd worked so hard to bury. You wondered how he was doing, though it wasn't as if you hadn't heard. Mutual friends kept you updated more than you cared to admit, their words painting glimpses of a life that no longer included you.

You'd heard he was finally making progress with his work, his passion—the very thing you'd once defended but later doubted. He'd opened a small store, modest but filled with so much of himself. It sold various collectable art pieces: action figures, miniatures for tabletop games, and custom character figurines crafted with meticulous care. Fans of Star Wars and Animal Crossing flocked to him, drawn to the detail and love that radiated from every piece he touched.

And you were proud of him. God, you were so proud of him.

He'd stayed true to himself, despite all the judgement, all the whispers about how he'd never make it, how he'd never be good enough. He'd proved them wrong. He'd built something meaningful, something entirely his own. You were happy for him, truly, but beneath that happiness lay an ache you couldn't ignore. You regretted not being there to witness it, to cheer for him when he finally achieved what he'd always dreamed of.

But maybe that wasn't what he wanted. For all you knew, he'd moved on, found someone who stayed by his side through all the highs and lows. Someone who loved him openly and without reservation, who didn't make him feel like he'd never measure up.

Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe he'd sworn off love entirely after the way things ended between you two.

Either way, you couldn't blame him. You wouldn't blame him. Not after the pain you'd both endured.

Yunho's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. "Is... everything okay? You've been quiet tonight." His concern was genuine, his eyes soft with worry, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

But deep down, you knew you weren't fine. And you didn't know if you ever would be.

"How much for that one?"

The tiny voice drew Seonghwa's attention, and he glanced down at the little girl standing on tiptoes, her small finger pointing eagerly at the figurine encased behind the counter. It was the only one displayed under glass, like a prized treasure—and in a way, it was.

He hummed, his eyes softening as he turned to look at the figure in question. The Kuromi figurine sat proudly on the top shelf, right next to the LED sign that glowed softly with his store's name: Star Mars. The design was intricate, every detail was carefully crafted with love and precision.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said gently, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. "That one's not for sale. It's reserved for someone very special."

The little girl pouted, her lips forming a perfect curve of disappointment, and his heart melted a little. But no amount of adorable pouting—or even persuasive whining—could ever convince him to sell it.

That Kuromi figurine wasn't just a piece of art; it was a promise, a memory frozen in time. It was one of the first figurines he'd perfected, the culmination of years of practice and the relentless pursuit of his passion. He'd made it as a gift for you—his favourite girl.

It still is yours, if only you wanted it.

The child's father stepped forward, lifting her into his arms as he gave Seonghwa an apologetic bow. "Don't worry about her, Mr Park. I'll convince her to go with the Isabelle one instead."

Seonghwa chuckled softly, standing upright as he waved off the father's concern. "No problem at all. Isabelle's a great choice," he said, though his eyes lingered briefly on the Kuromi figurine.

As the father and daughter moved on to browse the other displays, Seonghwa found himself lost in thought. He didn't display that piece out of pride or for show—it was there because it reminded him of you. Of the nights you'd spend sitting cross-legged on the floor of his studio, playfully teasing him about his obsession with getting every detail just right.

"She looks like you," he'd said when he showed it to you for the first time. You'd laughed, brushing it off, but the glint of affection in your eyes told him you secretly loved the comparison.

He'd planned to give it to you on your birthday, but the timing never felt right. And then, before he knew it, you were gone.

The bell above the door jingled, the familiar sound slicing through the haze of his thoughts and yanking him back to the present. He straightened up, plastering on the polite smile he reserved for customers, though the weight in his chest never eased.

"Good evening! Welcome to…" His voice faltered mid-sentence, the words catching in his throat as his entire world screeched to a halt.

There you were.

It had been years, but time seemed to melt away the moment his eyes landed on you. You stood there in the soft glow of his store lights, more beautiful than he remembered—if that were even possible. Your silk dress shimmered gently with each subtle movement, an elegant coat draped effortlessly over your shoulders. The once long hair he used to run his fingers through was now cropped to your shoulders, framing your face in a way that made you look older, wiser—but still you.

Even after all this time, his heart betrayed him. It thundered in his chest, each beat screaming your name. He clenched his fist tightly at his side, willing himself to stay rooted where he stood. Every fibre of his being ached to run to you, to close the distance, but he couldn't. He shouldn't.

Slowly, shakily, he mustered a smile, though it felt like his heart might burst from the sheer force of its racing. Then, to his astonishment—and heartbreak—you returned it. A soft, familiar curve of your lips that nearly undid him.

But then, it fell apart.

The moment shattered as a tall, striking man stepped in behind you. He moved with easy confidence, his presence commanding attention as if the universe itself had tilted slightly to make room for him. Without hesitation, his hand found its way to your shoulder, resting there with an ease that spoke of familiarity.

"See anything you like?" the man asked, his deep voice carrying the warmth of intimacy as he looked down at you.

You blinked, startled, as if shaken from a dream. "Oh… I was just…" Your voice trailed off as your gaze flicked back to your ex-boyfriend, lingering for a moment longer than it should have.

Seonghwa's smile faltered, but he quickly schooled his expression, burying the ache that clawed at his chest. He nodded politely, forcing himself to focus on the customer standing in front of him—the both of you.

The Kuromi figurine sat silently on its shelf, bathed in soft light, waiting for a moment that might never come. The air inside the store suddenly felt stifling. Seonghwa stood behind the counter, his hands gripping its edge like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Welcome to Star Mars," he said, his voice steady but his smile trembling under the weight of emotions. He forced it wider, hoping it would mask the whirlwind within. "It's been a while. How have you been?" His heart clenched as the words left his mouth. He wanted to sound casual, as though you were just another customer, but he couldn't. You weren't just anyone. You never had been.

You gave him a hesitant smile, one that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I've been good. How about you?"

Before he could answer, the man beside you—tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding warmth—stepped forward, his curiosity evident. "Oh, you two know each other? What a small world!" His voice was friendly, his smile sincere, and Seonghwa's chest tightened further.

He should feel relief. This man, presumably your boyfriend—or worse, your fiancé—seemed perfect for you. He was everything Seonghwa had wanted for you when he stepped away, believing he could never give you the life you deserved. And yet, it felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him.

You cleared your throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, this is Seonghwa. He's... an old friend of mine."

Old friend. The words landed like a punch to his stomach, but he kept his composure.

The man extended a hand toward him, his smile unwavering. "I'm Yunho. It's nice to meet you! Next time my nieces and nephews need new toys, I'll know who to come to."

Seonghwa took his hand, shaking it firmly while managing a polite smile. "Nice to meet you too." His gaze flickered back to you, catching the way you avoided meeting his eyes.

As if on cue, Yunho's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he excused himself, stepping outside to take the call. For the first time since you'd entered, the air felt heavy with unspoken words.

You turned back to your ex, your eyes meeting his briefly before dropping to the counter. "Congratulations... Seonghwa," you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a fragile memory. "It's good to see how far you've come."

He nodded slowly, his smile softer now, though the ache in his eyes remained. "Thank you. And... congratulations to you as well," he said, glancing toward the window where Yunho stood. "He seems amazing."

The kindness in his tone made it hurt even more.

"No," you blurted, shaking your head. "He's not... we're just... friends. I don't..." Your words faltered, your voice trembling. "I'm not with anyone."

His brows lifted in surprise, but he stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. You wished he'd say something, anything, but the way his eyes softened, brimming with a mix of emotions—relief, hesitation, and something deeper—was answer enough.

Your breath hitched when your gaze landed on the figurine behind him. Kuromi. Encased in glass, displayed on the highest shelf. You remembered the countless hours he'd spent perfecting it, the way he'd proudly shown you the finished piece.

He still kept it.

Before you could find the courage to ask why, Yunho reappeared, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade. "Hey, sorry to cut your little catch-up session short, but something urgent came up at work, and I—"

Seonghwa straightened, his polite smile snapping back into place. "Of course, don't let me keep you."

Your heart sank as he turned to you, bowing slightly. "It was nice seeing you again."

You forced a smile, though your chest ached with everything left unsaid. "It was nice seeing you too."

As you followed Yunho out, you couldn't resist glancing back one last time. Your eyes met Seonghwa's, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though a thousand words passed between you.

Regret. Longing. Love.

The bell above the door jingled again as you stepped out, your heart heavy with the weight of the encounter. Yunho was quiet as he drove, his hands steady on the wheel. The silence between you felt thick, almost suffocating, but you didn't know what to say. How could you explain the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you without sounding selfish or ungrateful?

"It's him, isn't it?" Yunho's voice broke through your thoughts, soft but resolute.

Your head snapped toward him, your heart pounding in panic. "What… what do you mean?" you stammered, the guilt already clawing its way to the surface.

He sighed, pulling the car to a gentle stop in front of your home. Turning to face you, he gave you a small, knowing smile. "The man from the store. Park Seonghwa, right? He's the one you've been thinking about all night. Tell me if I'm wrong."

Your breath caught, your hands fumbling with the seatbelt as you tried to come up with a response. But the look in his eyes told you that lying wasn't an option. "I…" You paused, finally managing to unfasten the seatbelt, but your words seemed caught in your throat. "I'm sorry, Yunho. I didn't mean for this to happen."

He leaned back with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You don't have to apologise. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I knew from the beginning that you weren't exactly thrilled about this arrangement, but I still went along with it, hoping… I don't know, that maybe something would change."

You felt tears sting your eyes, and you turned away, unable to meet his gaze. "You deserve better than this," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Hey." He reached out, his hand covering yours with a comforting warmth. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you turned back to him, your vision blurred with unshed tears.

"You don't owe me anything," he said gently. "This… whatever this was supposed to be, it wouldn't have worked if both of us weren't fully in it. And that's okay. You know why?"

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

"Because this decision—choosing who you want to be with—it's for you, not for your parents, not for me, and certainly not for anyone else. It should never be about what people think or what they want. It's your life. Live it for yourself."

His words struck you like a bolt of lightning, unravelling years of self-doubt and regret. He was right. How had you allowed yourself to be swept up in everyone else's expectations, losing sight of what truly mattered to you?

You sat back in your seat, letting his words sink in, feeling a strange mix of guilt and liberation. After a long moment, you nodded, your voice steadier now. "Thank you, Yunho. For everything."

He smiled, his eyes kind and understanding. "Go on," he said, tilting his head toward your house. "And don't let fear hold you back this time."

As you stepped out of the car, his words echoed in your mind, igniting a spark of courage you hadn't felt in years.

You turned back, watching as Yunho drove away, his figure disappearing into the night. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sliver of clarity.

It wasn't too late. You still had a choice to make. And this time, you'd make it for yourself.

The shop was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of paper as Seonghwa meticulously wrapped the Isabelle and Grogu figurines the pair of father and daughter finally agreed on getting. His movements were precise, his focus seemingly sharp, but his mind was elsewhere—stuck on the brief yet piercing encounter that had just walked out of his life again.

"That Kuromi one… it's for the pretty lady earlier, isn't it?"

The father's voice broke through Seonghwa's haze, and his hands froze briefly before resuming their task. He didn't look up, focusing instead on folding the edges of the wrapping paper with unnecessary care. "You might be right," he said after a pause, his voice quieter than intended. "But it doesn't matter if it is."

The man tilted his head, a subtle frown forming as he cradled his daughter closer. "And why's that? It clearly still means a lot to you both."

Seonghwa finally glanced up, forcing a polite smile, though it faltered almost immediately. "You saw it yourself... she's with someone else. Someone better." The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth, laced with a resignation he didn't quite believe in.

The man sighed, shifting the little girl in his arms so she could hold her new Grogu figurine. He regarded your ex with a look that felt far too knowing. "I also saw how she looked at you," he said softly. "And she didn't look like someone who's better off."

Seonghwa blinked, caught off guard, but the customer wasn't finished. His gaze drifted toward the cute purple figurine that was not for sale, and for a moment, his expression softened into something fragile—something etched with pain.

"You know," he began, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "my wife used to love Sanrio too. She had this little Cinnamoroll keychain she carried everywhere." He chuckled faintly, the sound bittersweet. "I always thought I'd have more time to make her smile, to give her the little things that made her happy. But time doesn't wait for anyone. One day, it was just… gone."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and Seonghwa felt something tighten in his chest.

The man glanced at him then, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity that seemed to pierce through Seonghwa's carefully built walls. "I don't know what's between you and her, Mr Park. But I do know this: regret is a heavy thing to carry. Don't let it weigh you down, not if you can still do something about it."

He gave Seonghwa a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of lessons learned too late, before taking the bag of purchased items. "Sometimes, all it takes is one step in the right direction. Don't let the chance slip away."

And then he was gone, the bell above the door jingling faintly as father and daughter disappeared into the night.

Seonghwa stood motionless behind the counter, his gaze drifting back to the Kuromi figurine in its glass case. The light reflected off it, casting faint shadows on the shelf behind it. It was meant for you. It had always been for you.

The father's words replayed in his mind, unrelenting in their simplicity and truth. He leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed on the figurine made just for you, but his thoughts were elsewhere—back to you, back to all the moments that had led to this one.

Back then, he'd convinced himself he was doing the right thing, letting you go so you could find the happiness he didn't think he could give you. He thought he was being selfless, noble even, sacrificing his own heart so you could find someone better—someone who deserved you. But now, the cracks in that logic were glaringly obvious. What had any of this accomplished? Neither of you had found happiness in the way he'd hoped.

The truth was harsh: he hadn't even tried. He hadn't fought to be better for you, to grow into someone worthy of your love. Instead, he'd accepted the version of himself the world seemed to see—a man with dreams too small and ambitions too impractical. He'd let himself believe that you deserved someone like Yunho, someone who fit the mould of what your parents and society thought was 'right.'

But things were different now. He wasn't that man anymore. He'd worked hard, not for anyone else but for himself. Every step he'd taken to build his store, every figurine he'd crafted with his own hands, every small milestone he'd achieved—it was proof that he could create something meaningful. And if he could do that, maybe he could create a life with you.

His heart clenched at the thought of you with Yunho, not because he doubted the man's worth, but because he knew Yunho could never hold your heart the way he still did. Yunho was everything society said you should want—stable, charming, perfect on paper. But love wasn't about paper. Love was about the way you used to light up whenever he showed you his newest creation, about the quiet nights you'd spent talking about everything and nothing, about the way your hand had always felt right in his.

Suddenly, the idea of the 'right person' seemed so absurd. There was no such thing. The right person wasn't someone who ticked all the boxes. The right person was the one you chose to love, again and again, flaws and all.

And you had chosen him once.

The real question now was whether you still would.

He straightened, his resolve hardening like molten metal cooling into steel. What kind of love was it if he could stand by and watch you settle for less than what you deserved? Not less in status or wealth, but less in the kind of happiness that made life worth living. What kind of love let you spend the rest of your days with someone who could never truly make your heart race?

Seonghwa wouldn't let that happen—not if he could help it.

His gaze lingered on the Kuromi figurine one last time before he moved toward the back room. He needed to think, to plan, to figure out how to tell you everything he should have said years ago.

If there was even the slightest chance that you still felt the same way, he would take it. Because this time, he wasn't letting fear or pride or anyone else's expectations get in the way.

This time, he was going to fight for you.

"Well...? Aren't you going to ask me how it went?" you asked, your voice sharp, as you stepped into the house. Your mother flinched, bowing her head slightly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her apron. She hesitated for a moment before coming up to you slowly, her eyes brimming with guilt.

"Yunho called," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "He said he wishes not to force you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any humour. "Of course, it took an outsider's words for you to finally see how exhausting this has been for me," you said, your tone cutting. "All this talk about marriage, about finding the right man... who is it really for? Who am I doing this for, hm? Is it for my own happiness? Or... oh, right." You smiled grimly. "It never was about my happiness, was it? It was about keeping up appearances, about pleasing everyone but me."

Your mother's face crumpled as her gaze fell to the floor. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken truths.

Your father, who had been sitting silently at the dining table, let out a long, weary sigh. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together as though trying to steady himself. "We thought we were doing what was best for you," he said, his voice low, burdened with regret. "We thought... if we guided you toward someone like Yunho, we were ensuring a future where you'd be safe, secure."

"Safe?" you repeated, your voice breaking. "From what? From being myself? From choosing the person who actually makes me happy? You never trusted me to make my own decisions. You never thought I was capable of knowing what I want, what I need."

Your mother reached for your hand, her touch tentative. "It wasn't like that," she said, though her voice wavered. "We were scared. Scared that you'd make a mistake, scared that you'd regret it later, scared that—"

"You mean you were scared," you interrupted, pulling your hand back. "Scared of what people would say. Scared of what the neighbours, the relatives, society would think. But you never stopped to ask me what I thought. What I felt."

Tears glistened in her eyes now, spilling over as she shook her head. "You're right," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You're absolutely right. We were selfish. We thought we knew better, but we didn't. We never meant to hurt you, but we see now that we did. We hurt you by not listening, by not trusting you."

Your father stood, his movements deliberate, his face sombre. "If he's the one you want, if he's the one who makes you happy, then we'll support you. No more pushing, no more trying to control your life. It's your choice. It always should've been your choice."

For a moment, the room fell silent. The tension that had loomed for so long finally began to dissipate, leaving behind a tentative sense of relief.

You inhaled shakily, the weight in your chest lifting just a little. It wasn't a perfect resolution—there was still so much to work through—but this was a start. A start you'd been longing for. "Thank you," you said softly, the words fragile but sincere. "Thank you for finally understanding."

And as your mother pulled you into a trembling embrace, you allowed yourself to hope that things could finally change. She smiled softly, brushing a hand against your cheek as if to assure you it was okay now. Your father stood behind her, his expression a mixture of pride and something deeper—perhaps the weight of finally letting go.

They exchanged a glance before your father nodded toward the door. "Go," he said quietly, his voice firm but warm. "Go where your heart tells you to. We'll always be here."

You blinked, stunned by their words, and for a moment, you couldn't move. But then, the weight in your chest lifted, replaced by an urgency that made your pulse race. Without another word, you turned and rushed out, barely remembering to grab your keys on the way.

Your car roared to life as you sped through the streets, your destination clear as day in your mind. Star Mars. The silly name you'd suggested in passing all those years ago, never imagining he'd actually use it. Your heart pounded harder with every turn, a mix of hope and fear swirling in your chest. Would he still want you after all this time? Did it matter? Even if he didn't, you needed him to know. You needed to tell him how you felt—how you still felt.

Parking haphazardly in front of his store, you didn't waste a second before bolting toward it. But as you reached the doors, your heart sank. The store was dark, the lights off, the doors locked. "Closed" hung starkly on the door, though the shops around it buzzed with life.

You froze, staring through the glass, confusion and dread pooling in your stomach. It's not even closing time yet... Had seeing you earlier bothered him that much? Had you pushed him away again, without even realising it?

Slumping against the door, you bit back tears, the overwhelming sense of missed chances clawing at your chest. Sure, you could come back another day. But you'd already lost so much time, wasted so many years pretending you didn't want this, pretending you didn't love him. You didn't want to waste another second.

Your gaze drifted inside the store, scanning the shelves. Your breath caught when you noticed something was missing. The Kuromi figurine—the one you'd lingered on earlier—was gone. You frowned, stepping closer to the glass. It had been there before. Where had it gone?

"Looking for this?"

The familiar voice made you spin around so fast you nearly stumbled. There he was, standing just a few feet away, the Kuromi figurine clutched in his hand, still encased in its protective plastic.

Your breath hitched as tears filled your eyes. "You took her off the shelf?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion as you took a tentative step toward him. "Where were you planning to take her?"

He smiled softly, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears of his own. "I was going to take her to her rightful owner," he murmured, his voice steady but tender.

Your heart stopped at his words, and you whispered shakily, "Was? So you're not taking her anymore?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

"Why not?"

He hesitated, the weight of years of longing and regret pressing against his chest. But then, the words of the customer from earlier echoed in his mind. Don't wait until it's too late. He looked at you—really looked at you—and knew, without a doubt, that this moment was the answer he'd been waiting for.

Taking a careful step forward, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing softly against yours. His breath hitched when your fingers instinctively curled around his, holding on as though letting go would shatter everything.

"Because you're already here," he murmured, his voice trembling with unspoken emotion.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, your heart felt whole again. The ache of countless nights spent longing for him, convinced you'd never feel his love again, melted away. Here he was—right in front of you—just like all those years ago. Yet, it felt different now. It felt... right. Because this time, neither of you would let fear or doubt stand in the way. This time, you were both ready to fight for it, to grow, to compromise, and to hold on.

"Hwa, I... I need to tell you something," you began, your voice shaking, each word heavy with the weight of years spent in silence. Your eyes searched his, desperate to convey everything your heart had been screaming in his absence. But before you could say more, he smiled—a small, trembling curve of his lips that held every ounce of love and pain he'd been holding back.

His eyes glistened as he leaned in, his forehead gently meeting yours, grounding you, binding you in a way that no words ever could. The moment felt infinite, a pause in time where your souls met in unspoken understanding.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion, raw and honest. Before you could process the words, his lips found yours, soft and warm, carrying all the unspoken promises, all the years of longing, all the love you thought you'd lost.

The world blurred and softened around you—the hum of the street and the glow of the city lights dissolving into nothingness. All that remained was him, the familiar scent of his cologne, the steady warmth of his hands cradling your face, the way his heart seemed to beat in perfect rhythm with yours.

In that kiss, you felt everything: the heartbreak, the yearning, the hope, and, most of all, the love that had endured time, separation, and pain. It was as if every broken piece of your heart was mending, every crack filled with the warmth of his love.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads remained pressed together, your breaths mingling in the quiet night. His thumb brushed away a tear you hadn't realised had fallen, his touch tender and sure.

"This time," he murmured, his voice steady but full of emotion, "I'm not letting you go."

And you knew—you both knew—that this time, nothing would keep you apart.

Istg, this wasn't meant to be so long. I wasn't even sure I wanted to give it a happy ending at first, but then I just kept getting carried away and voila. I swear I am working on Yunho's chapter of By Order of the Black Pirates bit by bit hehe just had to get this out of my system first.

As always, thank you for reading and hope y'all liked this one! Do let me know your thoughts! <3

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bearxgyeomie · 15 days ago

Text

Haunted me, haunting you

⁀➷ District 12 ⭒ District 12 was the smallest and poorest of the thirteen districts of Panem; their main industry is coal mining; victors: Lucy Gray Baird, Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: victor!Song Mingi x female reader

⁀➷ Warning: cursing, ptsd, panic attacks, violence, blood, mentions of death, hunting, injuries ⁀➷ Word count: 19.7k ⁀➷ Rating: mature, nc-17 ⁀➷ Genre: Hunger Games!au; acquittances since childhood to lovers!au, set before Katniss and Peeta became victors ⁀➷ Summary: After the 72nd Hunger Games, Song Mingi wasn't the same. The spark in his eyes was gone, his once bright smile disappeared and his face became ashen, cheeks hollow, he was merely a shell of the man he once used to be. It hurt seeing him lose himself to the trauma he was forced to endure in the Arena, still haunted by memories...memories of killing someone you both cared about, someone who meant the world to you. Will you be able to help Mingi before it's too late? But most importantly, will Mingi be able to let you in when you bear the very same face he was forced to murder in the Arena in order to become a victor?

A/N: Y'all! My lovelies, it's here!! My thesis was about The Hunger Games and I actually came up with the plot back in like...May?? Uh, anyways, no more gatekeeping this story too lmao, let's all thank Choi San for his appearance this weekend at fashion week, because his outfits inspired me to finally write this oneshot and also come up with a story for him, so, stay tuned! ^^ This piece is actually so very dear to me, I absolutely loved writing it and I just really want to hug Mingi in this, so I really hope you'll love it and enjoy it as much as I did while writing. If I forgot to mention any warnings, let me know so that I can fix it, and sorry for any mistakes, they do slip through sometimes when I proofread. Let me know what you thought of this oneshot, your feedback is always greatly appreciated! Enjoy now! ^^ divider

His hair was outgrown again, black strands fell into his small and sharp eyes, obscuring them from the world. He had a certain crazed haze in them, irises shaking as the warm brown was overtaken by darkness, a never-ending blackness. The meadow was silent apart from the breeze rustling the leaves, twigs snapping underneath the weight of our feet if we didn’t watch where we stepped. It was quiet apart from the surprised sound I had made and his pants, hurried and frantic as if he was still trying to catch his breath, as if he was frightened by my mere presence. And perhaps he was as our weapons pointed at each other. My hideout had been behind a large bush while his had been behind a tree, wide enough to hide his tall and lanky form. You wouldn’t be able to tell he had lost weight due to the excessive clothes he always wore, but if you knew where to look, you’d spot his sunken collarbones and sharp cheekbones, hands decorated with veins that popped out and a jawline that seemed unnaturally sharp.

My body finally relaxed as it registered no danger, my arm going lax as I lowered my bow and arrow. It took a few more seconds for the man standing in front of me to mirror my actions, eyebrows furrowed deeply with conflict on his face. I knew why he was looking at me like that, a striking reminder of the crimes he was forced to commit, but I didn’t let that deter me from the kindness I always showed to him.

“Hello,” I spoke up softly, mindful of the animals around us and the fact that he was here to hunt too, “I’m sorry for startling you.”

He didn’t speak up, he rarely did when he was in my vicinity—not that he spoke much around people ever since the Games—but that didn’t throw me off from continuously treating him like a human being, something he was, had always been, will continue being. I knew many didn’t treat him like that anymore, everyone threw him glares and spat harsh words at him, but the absent look in his eyes never changed. It was like he wasn’t really there.

“Are you just starting your hunt, by chance?” I questioned, placing my arrow in its holster as I continued holding onto my bow. Despite having lowered his weapon—a bow and arrow, as well—his fingers still curled tightly around the butt of the arrow, almost as if his body refused to relax in my presence. I understood why.

“No.” I tried not to show my surprise when he answered verbally, his voice a low rasp and a deep rumble in his chest. It hadn’t always been like that, when we were younger, his voice used to be squeaky almost like a mouse and oftentimes shrill when he giggled or laughed.

“I have just come out to hunt,” I continued, keeping the soft smile on my lips, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore as I watched him struggle to release his arrow, “Would you like to join me?”

He stiffened again, and I knew why, but his movements became frantic all of a sudden, the arrow slipped in its holster and the bow was back around his wide shoulders. He looked up, face almost pained as he stared at mine deeply, then he shook his head. I didn’t move nor say anything as he suddenly took off, feet tangling in weed and almost sending him flying onto the floor of the forest, but I didn’t help him. I knew he’d hate it, he didn’t let anyone touch him, so I just stayed put and willed myself to watch him as he just barely regained his balance. I wanted to help, but he didn’t allow me, he never has and never will. The meadow was wide, covered in lush green weeds, trees, bushes and colourful flowers, fallen twigs and leaves, logs and rocks, but he still came towards me, not avoiding my body. It was new, most of the time he’d walk around me and not even spare me another glance, but today his eyes were piercing and his stance held more confidence than I have seen in him ever since the Games. My smile didn’t slip off my lips, I was grateful that he wasn’t so keen on avoiding me anymore. But still, almost as if he realized what he was doing, his steps veered away and he went around me just last minute, the fabric of his forest green jacket brushing against my knuckles. I swallowed, nervous for no reason as I turned my head to look after him, “Goodbye, Mingi.”

He flinched when I said his name, he always did and perhaps always will, but instead of ignoring me he looked back too, jaw clenched, but he offered a silent greeting with a nod of his head. My smile widened and his eyes did too at the motion, then he paled, body visibly shaking as he suddenly took off in a sprint, leaving my heart aching and hands trembling as he disappeared from view, my legs giving out as I sat on the muddy floor of the forest. I couldn’t blame him, I never did and I never will, but he made it infinitely harder to cope with the pain of having lost my twin sister because of him.

The hunt had been successful, I managed to catch four wild ducks, which meant plenty of good coins for a tasty dinner for three. I have started training to become a nurse around a year ago, right after losing my sister, and that meant we were tight on money. I couldn’t say my family struggled much despite being from District 12, but after my sister’s death, it felt like things had slowed down. Money started coming in rather scarcely and it made me realize that she had been an important contributor to our income. Unable to sit back and watch my parents struggle, I decided to follow her path. It had been her dream to become a nurse, to reach the Capitol and become a great doctor, but the Games took both her and her dream away from us. It was a hard blow, it was hard because Mingi could’ve sacrificed himself for a woman who had a whole future planned ahead of herself unlike him, who failed to finish school in his last year and was supposed to work in a mine for the rest of his life. He was selfish, scared, and desperate to remain alive, all reasonable emotions when you’re faced with the choice to kill someone or be killed.

I never blamed him for killing my twin sister, I never hated him for being selfish and shooting his arrow straight into her heart. At least she left this terrifying world quickly and painlessly. I never wished death upon Mingi when my mother wailed while my father held her in his arms and rocked her, sobbing just as loudly as her when the camera span on my sister’s lifeless eyes and face. I never blamed Mingi for her death because he sobbed just as hard as us after the kill, holding her frail frame in his arms as he screamed towards the sky, words unheard as the cameras didn’t record audio too. I didn’t blame him when I found refuge in the meadow my sister loved so much, curled up in a ball in the tall grass as I cried loudly, chest aching and ears ringing until nightfall, when I finally felt empty and numb. And I still didn’t blame him when he returned home, crowned as the winner of last year’s Hunger Games, rewarded with so much money it would last him generations and a house at the Victor’s Village so big three families could fit inside. And despite the pain I felt when the train came to a screeching halt and he got off with empty eyes and sunken cheeks, our eyes meeting for a brief moment, I couldn’t hate him or blame him because the Song Mingi once everyone had known was gone.

The sky had turned darker as the sun hid behind the trees, the moon taking its place in the sky as mist settled upon the forests that surrounded our district. And despite the nightfall, the Hob was alive and buzzing with people who were desperate to trade their goods in exchange for some coins in order to survive another day. The four wild ducks I had caught, I had cut up and taken their feathers off, were displayed on the small table I managed to fetch from behind the building that has seen better days, and I set it up next to an old lady who sold trinkets and jewellery that looked older than even her. I have promised to give her the smaller duck in trade for a silver bracelet that had one pearl. I had never seen a pearl up close, and despite knowing that I’d never wear it, I’d figure out eventually what I wanted to do with it. Perhaps I’ll give it as a gift to my father, since it looked way too big for a woman’s wrist, or perhaps I’ll bring it to my sister’s grave and leave it as a gift to her. I didn’t dwell on the thought much.

The Hob was well-lit despite the old lamps that hung above our heads, and the late summer chill had settled inside, prompting everyone to wear their warmer clothes. I had accepted the battered blanket the old lady handed me when she saw me shivering, and promised to return tomorrow with ointment for her cut-up hands. I couldn’t tell whether she had nobody to look out for her or if her family had simply abandoned her, but I have promised myself after my sister’s death that I would help those who needed help yet couldn’t pay with coins for my services. A flower, cheese and bread, or even a small trinket would be good enough for me, I’d make use of it if it meant I helped a soul that needed attention and care.

Three ducks still sat on the table in front of me and I smiled warmly at everyone who wandered towards me, hungry eyes fixating on the ducks. The man that stood in front of me was a mine worker, I knew him because he worked with my father numerous times before.

“Hello, sir.” I greeted him and his eyes briefly looked up at me.

“Your father must be proud of you for helping out,” He muttered under his breath as he scratched his already irritated neck, “he speaks of you a lot on our breaks. How much for one duck?”

“Five coins will do, sir,” I answered him politely, but as he looked inside his pouch his face had turned ashen, then furious.

“Five is too much, child, who do you think can pay so much?” His voice turned harsh, and the lady next to me cast a glance our way.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I risk my life stepping outside the boundaries of our district, five coins are cheap for my sacrifices and the duck.” I didn’t let him waver my resolve, I knew how people were here. They would try to trick their way out of paying the worth of the items, and I wouldn’t fall for his manipulations. But the man seemed displeased as his fist came down on the table, making me jump. I wasn’t a violent person, but I was glad for the knife that was hidden underneath my clothes, pressing against my hip as a reminder that it was there. The old lady now looked at us, eyebrows furrowing.

“Maybe you should return to your little nursing school and fuck off to the Capitol like your sister had—”

“If you cannot pay five coins, walk along!” The old lady snapped next to me, eyes hardened and voice raised as it turned heads, curious eyes watching the tense exchange. The man threw her a glance and scoffed before he reached inside his pouch and retrieved the coins I had asked for, throwing them on the table as he grabbed one duck and stalked off. I sighed but gave the old lady a thankful smile and collected the coins, crouching down to retrieve one as it had tumbled to the ground. The cacophony of the market seemed to quieten at once until it turned into just murmurs, and I stood back up with a confused look on my face. I was a bit far from the entrance of the Hob and couldn’t see far ahead due to the number of people inside, but when the crowd started parting for a certain person, I understood their reaction.

Despite the camouflage he tried wearing, his clean and thick clothes managed to make him stick out like a sore thumb, his small eyes sharper now that the lower half of his face was concealed by a black silk scarf. He still wore the same jacket as earlier today, a satchel bag sitting against his hip as he wandered further inside the market. People whispered behind his back and stepped aside when he came too close, and I watched as people glared at him behind his back, pointing fingers and no doubt throwing insults at him. I wondered if people from other districts treated their Victors the same way people here treated Mingi. Maybe it was because my sister was a beloved figure in our district, a professional healer and always kind to everyone, maybe it was because Mingi had lost himself halfway into the games and murdered those who crossed his path viciously. Behind all the stares, glares and whispers lay something deeper. It was fear because people were reminded of their animalistic side, of who they could turn into when faced with the question of whether they wanted to live or die. They were scared because everyone knew they would do the same Mingi had done, kill an innocent and kind person in order to survive.

It was almost as if the market had frozen over when Mingi finally reached my humble table, silence so loud it irked my ears as everyone watched on edge our exchange. His eyes didn’t settle on my face for long, reluctant to look at me when so many were watching us, but I just smiled and looked at him with kindness, “Good evening, Mingi.”

I could hear gasps even, mouths hanging open as the Victor halted in front of the ducks I managed to hunt, eyes sweeping over them as if he did a quick count in his head. Even if minuscule, his eyes conveyed surprise and somewhat admiration when we looked up at me again, but upon seeing my smile, his eyes steeled, becoming devoid of any emotion. He nodded his head once in acknowledgement, then swiftly walked off, eyes set on a table that was littered with old and new weapons alike. Mingi had the money to buy the best of the best, but he always came to the Hob, late at night, probably hoping fewer people would be here. He could afford luxuries, but he preferred helping out those in need. He never said anything when they demanded more of him, he just wordlessly handed them the coins and left with a quiet ‘Thank you’. People catalogued him as selfish and ruthless, but he was deeply caring and rather selfless. It all mattered on the perspective you had of him and whether you wanted to spot the good in him or not.

Once Mingi was on his way towards other stalls and tables, the market seemed to regain its liveliness while remaining aware and alert of his presence amongst the crowd. Nobody approached him and nobody spoke to him, the vendors gave him second glances and seemed reluctant to acknowledge him despite the money they knew he could offer them. My eyes remained on his tall form, his shoulders hunched forward, as people passed by my table, sometimes stopping to inquire about the price of the wild ducks. A girl, too young to be here, bounced towards my table as she held onto her mother’s hand, eyes stuck on the ducks. My heart ached at the sight of her frail frame and the ghastliness of her mother’s face, and when she tried to veer her daughter away because they barely had any money, I cleared my throat and stepped around the table.

“Hello,” I greeted them kindly, and smiled at the girl as her eyes shone with enthusiasm, “Would you like to buy some wild duck?”

“We don’t have enough money, sorry.” The mother muttered embarrassed and I quickly shook my head.

“Well, you’re in luck tonight then, because I’m not looking for money.” I have acquired ten coins as I have sold two ducks, and while I still needed at least ten more, everyone had to make sacrifices and I wasn’t about to let them walk away without the duck in a bag and in their hands.

“But—”

“Come.” I beckoned the little girl towards myself, disregarding the mother as her eyes widened, “Which one would you like?”

I crouched down to be at the same height as the girl and she smiled widely at me, eyes sweeping over the two ducks that have remained on the table. She stuck her tongue out as she seemed to analyse both, then pointed to the larger one and I grinned back at her.

“That’s a good one,” I said with a chuckle and the girl shyly ran back to her mom to hide behind her skirt. I grabbed a paper bag and carefully placed the duck inside of it as the mother’s eyes followed my every move.

“I cannot accept this.” She tried to refuse but I was having none of it as I handed the bag to the little girl instead.

“You can.” I said with a reassuring smile, “My mother is looking for a seamstress, perhaps you can help her out sometime?”

I knew the woman was a seamstress whose business wasn’t flourishing anymore, but she was still clinging on to it, trying to do her best as she raised her daughter. Nobody knew who her father was and they had been treated harshly ever since she was born. Tears sprung into the mother’s eyes and she bowed her head deeply, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to do a good job. Bring in your clothes too, if they need fixing.”

“I sure will, thank you.” I bowed back and looked at the little girl, “Do you like pies?”

“I do!” She exclaimed happily and I chuckled.

“Well, then, I’ll see you two sometime next week with a pie and three dresses.” The mother bowed her head again and thanked me as a tear fell down her cheek, then she veered her daughter towards the exit as she blabbered on about how she loved duck meat the most. With a content smile on my lips, I walked back behind my table as I felt eyes on me. The old lady had a thoughtful look on her face as I faced her, and then she looked towards the crowd and sighed loudly.

“Your parents have raised you well, both you and your sister.” The old lady said and I nodded, agreeing with her, “She was kind too, but you are kinder, my dear. You have never expected anything in exchange for your actions, ever since you were little.”

“If we don’t stick together, then who will help us out?” I asked, eyebrows furrowing and my mood souring, “Surely not President Snow and the people from the Capitol, right?”

The old lady gave me a long look as she hummed, eyes looking back onto the crowd as I heard someone yelp. Curious, I turned my head and tried to pinpoint whoever had called out in fright, but the crowd was big and I couldn’t see anyone.

“Be brave and honest, but careful, even the walls have ears, my dear.” The old lady advised as men started shouting, the crowd crying out in fright again as suddenly it started dispersing not far from us, the people hid behind tables and next to vendors as another man exclaimed in pain. My eyebrows furrowed as I perked up, walking around my table as the crowd was clearing and I could almost see what was happening up ahead.

“What is the matter—” My eyes widened when I realized someone had Mingi’s torso pressed against a table, face down, wrists held behind his back as he struggled to break free as he hissed and glared viciously. My eyes widened as suddenly he kicked his leg backwards, and the man holding him folded over in pain as he released the Victor, scrambling back as Mingi whirled around with a wild look in his eyes, hands held out protectively in front of himself. The crowd steeled for a second, my heartbeat quickening as I realized he had the same look in his eyes as earlier today. Then, almost at once, three men jumped forward and tried to restrain him as Mingi pulled a knife from his pocket, sneering at whoever jumped at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I didn’t know what led to this altercation, but something felt wrong. Mingi was inoffensive, he never attacked first and he wouldn’t even hurt a fly even if it bothered him. Someone must’ve done or said something that made him so defensive.

But the men didn’t care as more women screamed, and I gripped the edge of my table as they jumped towards him, trying to take him down. Mingi was alone and despite being strong, he couldn’t defend himself against three men who were stronger and really angry. The way he held his knife was obvious enough that he didn’t intend to harm anyone, it was obvious enough to me that he was scared. My heart leapt into my chest as a man jumped at him from behind, unseen by almost everyone, an arm going around Mingi’s neck as the one to his right slapped the knife out of his tight hold. Then, his knees were kicked out from underneath him and he fell with a terrified cry, trashing around as the men tried to restrain his frantic movements. I took off without realizing my legs were taking me in their direction, heart beating fast as my ears rang, head aching the more Mingi’s cries started sounding less aggressive and more scared, but nobody seemed to hear them or care about them.

I pushed people out of the way, unapologetic and frantic, running around tables and jumping over crates as they were in my way, the only goal in my mind to reach him. Held down like that, his eyes were wide and filled with helplessness, the same look had been reflected in my sister’s when she had been shot in the heart. Mingi was still trashing around but his body was trembling now and it was audible that he was struggling to breathe. My body was lit with deep anger as I realized everyone was feeding off of his fear instead of realizing he was having a panic attack. The last person I pushed aside gave me a look and went to grab at me, but I threw them a menacing glare before I broke free of the crowd finally, panting as the attention was on both Mingi and me now. The men who held him were smirking and mocking him, but a look of confusion crossed their faces when I stood in front of them, frantic and desperate to stop this.

“Stop it!” I snapped, voice a lot more high-pitched than I expected it to be, “Let go of him!”

“He’s like a rabid dog,” One man hissed, “Like hell, are we releasing him. He’ll hurt us—”

“I said,” My voice held danger as I itched to grab my knife and hold it threateningly towards the men, “let him fucking go!”

And if my scream didn’t chill the onlookers, then Mingi’s helpless whimper did as his eyes screwed shut tightly, even his head shaking as he struggled to breathe. I didn’t wait for the men to listen to me as I scrambled towards Mingi, falling to my knees with a loud thud as my knees shook from the impact, but I didn’t care as he was finally released. He flinched and tried to flee, but my cold fingertips traced his forehead as his eyes snapped open, wide and shaking as they bore into mine.

“It’s okay,” My voice was quiet and gentle, assuring, “I’m going to take this off.”

I gently grabbed the scarf that covered his nose and lips, and a strong hand suddenly grabbed at my bicep. The men tried to touch Mingi again, but I threw them a warning look.

“You’ll be able to breathe better, Mingi,” I said with the same softness as the grip on my arm continued to tighten, but Mingi didn’t object as I slowly pulled the scarf off his lower face. He gasped and clung onto me with both hands now, lips trembling as his body shook. He looked smaller than he was, he looked on the verge of passing out. With a shaky breath, I traced his thick eyebrows and brushed his long bangs out of his eyes as I offered him the smallest smile.

“Mingi, what we’ll do next is easy, alright?” He gasped as he was hyperventilating, but his eyes were stuck to my lips, “We’ll breathe together, alright? We inhale big and exhale long, good? You’re safe, Mingi.”

I didn’t know how much my words managed to reach his mind, but I started taking big inhales and long exhales, hoping that he’d soon follow my lead. People gawked at us and murmured, horrified that I was helping the man who mercilessly killed my twin sister. I didn’t care, Mingi was human too and he was suffering. It was right in front of their noses, the fact that he was still struggling and paying the consequences of his actions, but nobody seemed to actually care that he wasn’t just a rich and scary Victor now.

“In,” I inhaled, holding Mingi’s cold face in my hands as his fingers dug into my cardigan, “Out.”

And he was slowly catching on to how to breathe in and out, his chest expanding and then falling back as he emptied his lungs. His body was shaking and he would still whimper or become smaller when someone made a sound too loud, but I was here, and I was determined to help him regain his senses, regain himself. It took him a few good minutes, but his frantic breaths have found a new rhythm, much calmer and quieter than before, inhaling and exhaling at the same time with me. A small smile crossed my face when I realized he was slowly returning to himself, my thumbs gently rubbed the skin under his eyes, trying to bring the smallest form of comfort. His grip relaxed around my biceps and his body leaned towards mine as if it was trying to drink in my warmth, I let him nuzzle his face into my hands as his body finally stopped trembling. The people around us went quiet and I gulped, trying to keep my composure in front of everyone. I was mad, I was angry and I wanted to scream at them for treating him like an animal, for caging him in and making him feel like he was in danger, like he was back in the arena once again, triggering a panic attack and probably unwanted memories that he tried to bury deep down.

“You’re safe, Mingi.” His eyes snapped open and bore into mine, irises expanded and still alarmed as he took breaths through his mouth, hands slipping down from my biceps to my wrists. His grip was painful and I understood that he wanted my hands off his skin, so I pulled them back into my lap, but he didn’t let go of me just yet. His eyes were shaking again, tears sprung into them and he gulped, subtly shaking his head. He had become paler than he was before, and I knew the crowd was too much, the eyes and the whispers, the fingers that were pointed at us and the sneers, the judgemental stares. I gripped his wrists back and stood, looking down at Mingi as I silently asked him to stand as well.

His eyes continued boring into mine, face ashen, but at least he knew he was safe as long as he didn’t let go of me.

The petals of the soft pink flower felt dainty underneath my fingertips as I gently traced them, a small smile on my lips as I inhaled their scent before rearranging the bouquet in the vase. I had brought them in from the meadow just yesterday, so they were still fresh and flourishing. The meadow was full of the pinkish coloured Musk Mallows which was my twin sister’s favourite flower. She’d always gush about their softness and beauty, collecting a small bouquet for herself to decorate her grim side of our shared room. I wasn’t fond of the flower at first, its smell irritating my nostrils, but with the passing of years and sneaking to the meadow before sunset, I started loving their familiarity. The meadow was peaceful, quiet, and far away from the Peacekeepers and the grey haze of District 12. It was a reminder of what our Earth must’ve looked like before the nuclear war destroyed it and forced it to become what Panem is today.

The pink flowers reminded me of freedom and of my sister, of a dream that was possible to achieve if you never gave up and fought for it. It reminded me of love and laughter and the look on my sister’s face whenever she cradled it to her chest, of the chastising of our parents for sneaking out once again, but the fondness on their faces when my sister and I would sprint to our rooms giggling and talking about going to the meadow again tomorrow to make flower crowns for our mother and father. It reminded me of tender touches and a quiet love that you didn’t have to talk about or scream it out into the world for everyone to see it or understand it, it reminded me of a toothy smile and small eyes that once used to laugh, of sneaked glances and shy looks passed between classes.

The deep voice of my father's and my mother’s gentler one carried outside of their room, all the way to the kitchen as I changed the flowers’ water, my parents’ murmur gentle and warm. The water was cold against my skin and it made me shiver despite the warm summer breeze that came inside through the open window, and I smiled when I heard footsteps coming into the kitchen. My father was dressed in his overalls, his tools in a handbag and a cap low over his eyes as my mother came following him outside, fussing about the hole in his jacket’s arm. Their love had always been quiet and subtle, it was always about noticing the small things, about doing something quietly for the other one.

“Don’t worry, a small hole won’t make me feel cold down in the mine.” My father’s voice held amusement as he grabbed the jacket out of my mother’s hands. I rearranged the flowers in the vase once I was satisfied with the amount of water inside the glass, and chanced a glance in my parents’ direction.

“But it will seem like your wife is unable to sew it for you,” My mother’s eyebrows were furrowed and I chuckled quietly, picking out seven pink flowers from the bouquet.

“And isn’t that true?” Teasing bordered my father’s tone as he gave my mother a cheeky smile, and she looked away with an embarrassed huff, “Don’t worry, nobody will notice it. It’s rather dark down there.”

“Do you remember the small pink and purple boutique at the square?” I perked up, gaining my parents’ attention as if they were oblivious to my presence.

“The lady who has a daughter now?” My mother asked as she fixed my father’s collar, remaining close by his side.

“Yes, hers.” I nodded, then crouched down to place the flowers I picked out of the vase inside my basket, “She owes me a small favour, we should bring our faulty clothes to her.”

“I heard she’s been struggling,” My father trailed off as he looked at me, but not for too long, then grabbed my mother’s hand, “well then, why not? Everyone needs some coins to make due.”

“Right.” My mother nodded with a smile as I grabbed my basket and mentally prepared myself for a good enough excuse, “We should visit her, then, sometime this week—Y/N, where are you going, honey?”

I froze in front of the front door and tried to look as innocent as possible, “I’ll stop by at a house before I head to the Nursery, one of my patients was sick lately.”

“In the middle of summer?” My father asked with confusion, eyes straying from my face when I looked at him sadly.

“Some old people are barely hanging on, dad.” I muttered but shook off the grim thought, “I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Sure, take care of yourself.” He said gently and I nodded, eyeing my mother as her fingers curled around my father’s arm just a bit tighter. Working in a mine had always been dangerous, it had always taken away lives way too abruptly and painfully.

“See you, then.” I waved at my parents and they smiled, proud but with sadness bordering their eyes as they never looked at me for too long. I understood why. The face which was mine hadn’t always been just mine, it had once been my twin sister’s too, even if slightly different. I didn’t blame them like I didn’t blame Mingi, and I never got angry at them like I never got angry at Mingi. Everyone suffered and coped in their own way with loss, and when things got too difficult to bear anymore, I knew I would find solace in the meadow that reminded me so much of my sister.

The walk to the Victor’s Village wasn’t too long, but it was midday and the streets were littered with people going on about their day. I greeted those who offered me smiles and I stopped to talk with those who needed my advice as a nurse. Young children laughed and screamed in the courtyard as I passed by the school, pleasant memories flooding my mind as a young girl clung to the gates and waved at me with a giggle. It reminded me of when I tried to scale the gate in order to prove that I was strong, only to fall and twist my ankle as I tried not to wail, but instead swallow the pain and smile when my classmates started fussing over me. It had been—an already—tall and lanky figure that pushed everyone aside with worry on his face as he came to kneel next to me, thick eyebrows furrowed as he clumsily grabbed my leg, applying pressure where it hurt most. I cried out, scaring everyone, and they started shouting at the boy, trying to pull him away from me as they accused him of hurting me, but I didn’t want him to go. His touch was warm and gentle, scared but willing to help, and I only stopped throwing a fit when the other children left him alone and made him pick me up and carry me to the Nursery that was close by. His voice was still scratchy back then, but it was soft and friendly, “You’re safe, Y/N.”

Nervous for no reason, I readjusted the collar of my lavender-coloured dress and then knocked against the perfectly white door, the air a bit clearer over here. The Victor’s Village was just by the borders of District 12, meaning that it was closer to the forest and meadow I loved so much. It was always silent here, and it smelled of flowers and baked goods whenever the Song’s front door was open to let the fresh air in. Only two houses were inhibited inside the Village and at night it could seem eery, almost haunted by all the lives lost in the Hunger Games. But my irrational nervousness came to a stop when the front door opened and an elderly smiling face welcomed me on the other side.

“Oh, my dear,” The elder woman, Mrs. Song, had a surprised look on her face, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon!”

After everything that’s happened at the Hob last night, I wouldn’t have abandoned Mingi, leave him alone to deal with the aftereffects of his panic attack. I stuck to his side and walked him back to the Victor’s Village as no words were exchanged between us, but the fact that he didn’t shuffle too far from my body was the confirmation I needed that he appreciated my presence and persistence. I was a nurse in training, after all, and he was just a person fighting against the demons inside his mind.

“It was due time I brought you a new ointment, Mrs. Song.” I said with a smile as Mingi’s grandmother beckoned me inside, “And I picked fresh flowers yesterday, I figured they would look nice in your kitchen or living room.”

The old lady’s face lit up upon hearing about the flowers, and I had just barely stepped out of my sandals when her hand gripped my wrist and pulled me after herself. Despite the house being managed by an elderly couple and their grandchild, it was in perfect condition and always pristine clear. I have offered to help them out more often, but Mrs. Song had always said that they were doing fine and capable of handling the huge house on their own. I didn’t want to push them or make them feel incapable since they had Mingi back now, thankfully, and they wouldn’t need another pair of hands to help out. While my sister and Mingi were in the Games, I frequently stopped by the Song’s small house to help the elderly couple with anything I could. Sometimes I cooked for them, other times I helped scrub the house clean, and when their legs hurt too much, I would sell their baked goods at the market and bring back the coins for them.

“You’re so sweet,” Mrs. Song mused as she directed me towards the large table in the kitchen, “Take a seat, I made some apple pie just this morning, it’s my Mingi’s favourite. Would you like some too?”

“I wouldn’t want to take it away from him, then, since it’s his favourite—”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Song waved her hand, hurrying to take a plate and fork, “That boy is so tall but so skinny. He barely eats anything lately, my dear, what should I do to bring back his appetite?”

It’s been almost a year since his Games, and sometimes I found myself throwing up after eating, my sister’s lifeless eyes flashing behind my eyes, a constant reminder that she wasn’t here anymore. That she wouldn’t go to the Capitol and that she wouldn’t become a nurse, never to hunt again or lay in the flower field at the meadow.

“Just be gentle and patient with him, Mrs. Song,” I placed the basket on the table and opened it, “I can’t guarantee he’ll ever be fine, but he’s doing better. I can see it in his eyes.”

“He’s still haunted by memories,” Mrs. Song whispered defeated as I grabbed the flowers and the tin can of ointment for her leg, “but he doesn’t wake up from nightmares so often anymore.”

“He’ll get better with time, he’ll eventually stop blaming himself.” I whispered as I headed towards Mrs. Song, who had paused and had her head lowered, “He’s lucky to have you and Mr. Song, and you’re doing everything you can for him. It’s good, I am glad he has people who love him and support him.”

Mrs. Song hummed and turned her head to look at me, taking the items from my hands. She smelled the flowers and grinned, placing the ointment by the sink as she went to fetch a vase for the pinkish flowers, “I had always been able to tell whether it was your sister or you, you know? Remember when you brought my Mingi candies when he helped you with your homework? Your sister never quite liked him, I once watched her kick him in the shin because he refused to carry her to school on his back.”

I blushed and looked away feeling embarrassed as Mrs. Song started laughing quietly, amused by the recall of a longtime memory, “You’ve always been soft-spoken and calm, you always looked at my Mingi with admiration and understanding in your eyes. I know he’s not—he appreciates everything you’ve done for him since—since that day, and he’s trying to mend your once bond.”

“It was her who volunteered to take my spot,�� My throat felt a little tight, like something was bothering it from the inside, “she knew what she’d have to face, she chose her fate willingly. Mingi only did what everyone else did before him and will do after him, I just wish he was …more willing to receive kindness and love.”

Mrs. Song hummed and gave me a long look before she walked back to me, grabbing the curtain of the small window as she pulled it to the side. She had a big smile on her lips as she gazed outside, and I followed her line of sight, stunned by what I saw. Mingi was outside in the back garden with his grandfather, crouched down and digging up the soil as a half-empty sack lay next to him. His grandfather was fanning himself and holding a bottle of water as his mouth moved, telling Mingi something that made him smile. It was small at first, barely a twitch of the corner of his plump and red lips, but then it expanded slowly into something wider. Something which pulled at the corner of his sharp eyes and softened them up, the brown in them brighter and warmer as his smile only became bigger, crooked front teeth on display, boxy and warm. It lit up his sharp face and made him look kind and friendly, so easily lovable, so easily approachable. The smile made his eyes so small you almost couldn’t see them as they creased, long and tall nose scrunching up as his chest started shaking. It looked like when he was sobbing, but now he was laughing, loudly and joyously, and it made it harder to look at him than at the blazing sun.

My breath hitched and something dormant stirred in my chest, something that made my heart pump my blood faster and my palms ball up into fists as my eyes widened, lips parting in surprise the longer I watched the joy expand on his whole face, making him throw back his head, his black hair not obscuring his eyes for once. His skin was pale despite its tan complex, making it obvious that he didn’t spend much time outside anymore, but under the warm rays of the sun, it made him glow brightly and breathtakingly. He looked casual in his white shirt, which threatened to fall off his right shoulder, and his dark blue trousers were dirtied by the soil his knees dug into. He looked gorgeous, beautiful and mesmerizing, and I have just realized I never wanted to see him cry or frown or tremble in fear ever again. I wanted Mingi to be happy, to be joyous and grateful that he was still alive. I wanted him to smile and laugh every day, his warm eyes trained on me—on my face—without pain or hesitance lingering in them. I wanted Mingi to see me and not my dead twin sister in the reflection of my features.

I gulped, suddenly aware of the tears in my eyes when Mrs. Song placed her wrinkly hand on top of my fisted one, gently squeezing it. Her eyes bore into the side of my head and I sniffed once, trying to gather myself and blink the tears away. Mrs. Song remained silent, but she hummed and gently helped my hands relax as I uncurled them, pressing them into the cold countertop, “He smiles like that from time to time, when he’s able to let go of everything and just be in the moment. I know you miss my grandson, and I know you miss your sister even more.”

“I was never meant to lose both of them,” I whispered, voice strained as I forced my head to turn, Mingi’s laughter and happiness burned into the forefront of my mind, “The Games were never supposed to take away the sister I loved with my whole being, and they were never supposed to take away the innocence and light in Mingi.”

“Life isn’t always fair, my dear,” Mrs. Song said as she let the curtain fall back in place, “Sometimes unexplainable things happen and if we dwell on them trying to find an explanation, whether ordinary or divine, we threaten to lose ourselves in an impossible quest. You’re stronger than anyone has ever thought you’d be, don’t let the darkness get to you like it gets to most of us. You have no idea how much it means that there’s someone who views Mingi like a human being besides me and his grandfather, I was afraid he’d end up like Haymitch, but he’s still fighting and trying to do his best.”

“Mingi’s stronger than he gives credit to himself,” I said with conviction as I walked towards the sink to fetch the ointment I brought, “He’ll never end up like poor Haymitch. I’ll have to check on him soon.”

“He’s still breathing, if you’re worried about him.” Mrs. Song’s tone was sour as she knocked on the window, “I went over today, brought him some pie too. It was the first time since we moved here that he didn’t slam the door in my face, I suspect apple pie is also his favourite.”

Mrs. Song and I chuckled to ourselves as we heard the front door open and then close loudly, manly voices conversing about whether the new seeds they had planted would grow out fast or not. I opened the tin can and handed it to Mrs. Song so that she could smell it and realize I had infused some cinnamon into it since it’s her favourite scent. Her eyes lit up and she grinned just as the men appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, Mr. Song’s laughter gruff, followed by a scratchy cough. I let my eyes fall on the grandfather and grandson, their eyes and noses very similar, it seemed like the traits had carried over to Mingi too. His grandparents weren’t tall people, but judging by the small fragments of memories of Mingi’s parents, I could remember his father being an intimidatingly tall man. Unfortunately, he died in a mining accident when Mingi and I were barely five years old, and his mother unfortunately died not even two years later due to an incurable sickness.

“Oh, Miss Park, what brings you our way?” Mr. Song asked in surprise as he tried to stand up straighter, dusting off his pants and making soil fall onto the clean floors. Mrs. Song’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t say something as Mr. Song acted like he was innocent.

“I wanted to bring Mrs. Song a new ointment for her leg, hopefully, this will work better.” I tried to act like it didn’t hurt when Mingi’s expression fell once he realized it was me who stood in their kitchen, “Is your chest alright, Mr. Song? Do your lungs still hurt when you cough?”

“Ah, no, don’t worry about me!” He quickly brushed my concerns off, but my eyes were stuck on Mingi as he shuffled on his feet, shoulders hunching as if he was trying to look smaller. He didn’t look my way, sharp eyes pointed to the floor, but his face was void of any expression. I could still see his smile in front of my eyes, I could even imagine what his deep laughter sounded like—probably higher-pitched because it had always been breathy—but it remained as an unfulfilled desire because Mingi would never look at me like that, just with anguish and pain in his eyes, “And are you well? I hope our Mingi didn’t inconvenience you too much last night—”

“Helping him, or anyone for the matter, is never an inconvenience to me, Mr. Song.” I didn’t mean to cut the elder man off, nor to sound too snappy, but I couldn’t help myself. The anger and rage I felt last night for the treatment Mingi was forced to face at the Hob still simmered just underneath my skin, making me sensitive, “It wouldn’t have even happened if people stopped seeing him the way the Capitol has painted him, I—I can’t just stand and watch them torment him, I’m sorry. But I’m glad you’re feeling better today, Mingi.”

The Victor flinched when I said his name, gripping his left arm as he started scratching it through the fabric of the loose white shirt he wore, but he nodded his head and briefly looked up at me, a glimpse of gratitude visible on his face, “Thank you for stepping in.”

“Anytime,” I said, and then Mingi was looking anywhere but at me, my presence in his home clearly making him feel uncomfortable. Realizing that despite his grandparents always welcoming me eagerly with open arms, Mingi still didn’t feel comfortable nor keen on seeing me in the one place where he was supposed to be safe from everyone and everything. I understood why, so I didn’t let the thought sour my mood or bring my spirits down, instead, I went and gathered my basket with a smile on my face and glanced at Mrs. Song, “Thank you for the apple pie, but I’m needed at the Nursery, I’ll have it some other time perhaps. Mr. Song, don’t exert yourself too much and if you’re feeling unwell, let me know.”

The men stood aside so that I could leave the kitchen and despite making sure I didn’t walk too close to Mingi, my knuckles still brushed against the soft fabric of his shirt, just barely but it felt soft and warm. My body stiffened, but I didn’t stop despite Mingi’s head turning to look after me, eyebrows furrowed as he looked conflicted.

“Goodbye!” I called before I was out the door, forced to take deep breaths as my heart was hammering against my chest. I had thought I could do this. But the longer he looked at me with disdain, reluctance and pain in his eyes, the more my chest ached and my lungs constricted, trying to call out for the man I was missing, for the boy who always smiled when he saw me and averted his eyes shyly if he looked for too long. But I wasn’t giving up, I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t treat him like the monster the Capitol made him out to be.

The Hob once was a place filled with laughter and good disposition, a place where people went to dance, listen to music and enjoy their evenings. Now, after the war that destroyed District 13, the Hob became a mere warehouse that was worn down by the passing of time, destroyed by harsh winters and scorching summers. With its missing windows and hollow insides, the people of District 12 made a place out of it that would host illegal night markets, a means of trying to earn more coins in plus despite it being illegal. The Peacemakers knew of it but they never interfered as long as those guarding it got something out of it too. But with the disappearance of what the Hob once used to be, it needed a replacement, a place that would bring people together still, bring some light into their dark every day. The Hut was that place, an old house of a family that have long died since, in a slightly better-off part of District 12. As expected, the Peacekeepers knew of this place too, but they rarely came to bother people as it was close to the mayor’s house, thus leading to fewer displays of aggressive behaviour. But there were exceptions, there always were exceptions.

The people of District 12 couldn’t be considered hostile or unfriendly, but they knew how to hold grudges, and they weren’t afraid to show their hatred toward one another. It’s this reason why they so blatantly mistreated Mingi, swearing and cursing at his face, brave to lay their hands on him without thinking that it could trigger memories from the Games, making him lash out. At the Hob, when he had a lapse of judgment, his panic attack was induced by something that triggered a terrible memory from the games, leading to the altercation. But people seemed to not understand this, ignorant and unwilling to hear me out and realize that they were hurting him more by their attitudes towards him, ostracizing him even more. My friends, who had always known how I felt about Mingi, were just as ignorant at first, blaming him and mocking him, but they’ve gotten better at accepting him and leaving him alone. They weren’t children anymore, I wouldn’t be held accountable for their actions and words, but I could at least try and open their eyes to reality.

The Hut was almost overflowing by the time me and my friends had arrived, rushing inside as the summer breeze bit at our exposed skin. The long-sleeved dress I wore was dark green, like the forest I’d go hunting at, and I had a dainty brown belt around my waist that my sister had gifted me a long time ago. It was made of leather and it must’ve cost a fortune to her, but she smiled widely and clapped her hands when I opened the small gift box, my eyes widening at the expensive clothing item. Now, knowing that she loved it when I wore it, I made sure to wear it as often as I could even if she wasn’t here to see me. It’s the thought that mattered, and I knew she’d be elated if she were here.

We managed to catch an empty table, just about fitting for seven people as we settled in our chairs, voices raised as the live band played their upbeat music, gathering dancing couples close by the scene and cheering everyone on to come and dance. My friends wanted to grab each a pint of beer before we’d mingle with others our age, so I volunteered to walk up to the bar and order us drinks as three Peacekeepers off duty had approached our table, obviously trying to charm the single ladies who sat there. I wasn’t keen on them, they were ruthless in their practices and unforgiving and fake even when they didn’t wear their uniforms. I had no interest in men like them, men who chose to serve the Capitol and earn a paycheck by asserting violence on others.

I pushed my way through the crowd and tried to dodge every drunk person that came my way, but someone had pushed me from behind just as I neared the bar, making me fall forward and crash into someone’s back. The person stiffened instantly and before I could panic, the familiar scent of the person reached my nose. The fabric of his sweater was soft underneath my fingertips, obviously being a gift from someone wealthy as nobody from District 12 could’ve afforded it. It was beige and had an intriguing black pattern knitted into it, making the sweater look even more cozy. I stepped back and up to the bar, cheeks flushed from the heat inside the place but also from stumbling so clumsily into Mingi.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke up as our eyes met, his widening as mine looked away, “someone pushed me and I lost my footing.”

Mingi didn’t answer, but his hand curled around his pint, knuckles turning white as he squeezed it. His eyes remained stuck on me, though, something unusual as I fumbled with my small purse to find enough coins for my order. I threw him a quick glance and he quickly averted his eyes, staring ahead as his eyebrows furrowed. His hair, surprisingly, was brushed out of his eyes and his cheeks were tinged pink, finally not so pale and sickly looking. His plump lips were chapped but Mingi didn’t seem to mind that as he took a small sip of his own beer. I leaned over the bar and motioned towards the one managing it that I needed seven pints. I wouldn’t be able to carry them to my table, but someone would help, I didn’t worry about that. Now that I had to wait, I turned my body to face Mingi’s, and watched as he stiffened when he realized I was looking at him.

“Are you here by yourself?” I asked with a small smile on my lips and he nodded, picking at a thread of his sleeve as they were longer than his hands and covered them. The sweater created the illusion that it swallowed Mingi’s broad and tall form, giving him a cosy look that oozed safety. I fought against the pull to step closer, to touch his sweater to feel its texture, to compliment him about the way he had styled his hair, finally not obscuring his beautiful eyes. Mingi remained silent, eyes pointed forward as the men standing by the bar gave him irritated looks, as if his mere existence was an inconvenience to them. I sighed and leaned back just a bit, throwing them a warning glare until they turned away, looking uncomfortable.

“Would you like to join me?” I tried with an innocent offer, my smile slightly widening, “I’m here with my—”

“No.” But Mingi’s answer was quick and almost frantic as his eyes widened a bit, his head turning just a little to look at me. He looked almost appalled by my offer and I felt bad for making him feel uncomfortable, but lately, I felt like I didn’t know what to say to him, what was appropriate and what was triggering.

“Right, sorry,” I muttered an apology as the host appeared with my pints of beer, a younger boy trudging after him with a grimace. He looked like he didn’t want to be here, and by the baby fat on his cheeks, he probably wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Here, help the lady!” The host announced loudly and grabbed the coins I pushed towards him, pushing the younger boy around the bar. Mingi’s eyes fell on the boy, who seemed to pay Mingi no mind other than a quick glance, and I offered him a smile as I grabbed four pints.

“I’ll be here, Mingi.” I ignored it when he flinched, instead smiling wider, “In case you change your mind or need me.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t let my surprise show as he thanked me, quietly and almost hesitantly, but our eyes met and he nodded his head, eyes unsure as they remained stuck to my face. I lingered for a second, wishing to say more, to look at him more, but the young boy was already walking off with the other pints and I couldn’t stay by the bar forever. I nodded my head and swiftly walked off, not without looking back and realizing Mingi’s eyes were following me. It made my chest constrict, a lump in my throat rise as I forced a smile onto my face once I reached my friends’ table, which was filled with laughter and joy.

It felt nice breaking away from the monotonous days, from the grey mood everyone in District 12 seemed to have, it felt nice to spend an evening laughing and enjoying myself. Music seemed to always uplift my mood, and I loved watching people dance, eyes stuck to the way they twirled and moved, sometimes laughing, sometimes looking like they were concentrating too much. I loved to watch the gentleness they held each other with, the spark in their eyes and the ease with which they knew how to follow one's lead. The evening had turned into the late hours of the night, my stomach ached from laughing, but my feet still felt fine as I hadn’t danced just yet. Nobody had approached me and I didn’t want to dance with just anyone, so I also didn’t try to find a dance partner. Despite laughing and conversing with my friends, my eyes often strayed towards the bar, unable to focus on the conversation as I gazed at Mingi, wondering what was going through his mind. He didn’t move from the bar but he did find a seat on a stool, and he didn’t drink more than two pints of beer, but he did eat a pie that looked to be with apples. Nobody approached him and he didn’t approach anyone, he remained alone and stuck to himself as he often would look towards the dancing crowd, picking at the skin around his nails.

Mingi had once used to love to dance, whenever we came here, he wouldn’t sit down for even a second. We never came together, our friend groups were different, but we always somehow stumbled into each other. He had once tried to ask my sister to dance with him, but she gave him a disgusted look and stomped on his feet before storming off towards the boy she was head over heels. Taking pity on Mingi, whose lips were downturned and his head hung low, I told him I really wanted to dance but nobody wanted to dance with me. The joy was back on his face as he took my hand and led me towards the dancing people, blabbering on about his favourite songs and how he had tried playing the guitar before but failed. After that, Mingi always seemed to save me a dance before we’d head home. Perhaps there was one person, after all, that I expected to ask me to dance tonight, and it was Mingi.

I was sat at the table with just two of my friends as they drunkenly tried to ask about how my nursing school was working out, but I barely paid them any mind as I saw two men creeping towards Mingi. They seemed to be drunk too, but they had vicious smirks on their lips and narrowed eyes as they spoke between each other, pointing at Mingi’s back. My jaw clenched when one grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backwards, startling Mingi who almost managed to fall off the stool. The other leaned in uncomfortably close, spatting words in his face as Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, face falling slowly as fear coated his eyes. Sitting up abruptly and alerting my two friends, I paid them no mind as my legs carried me over to the bar, storming up to Mingi and the two idiots without paying mind to anything else.

“Excuse me.” My voice was loud and harsh as I snapped, jaw clenching when only Mingi seemed to realize I was there too, “Get your hands off him, now.”

And then I grabbed the man’s wrist who still held onto Mingi tightly, making sure to dig my nails into his skin as he yelped, turning around with fury on his face. I didn’t release him, not yet, as his face got red and his chest puffed up, prompting Mingi to slide off his stool, standing tall as he watched the exchange.

“You failed to hear me the first time,” I said, then pushed the man back by his hand before I released it, “surely a woman’s grip didn’t hurt you?”

The man scoffed as his hands balled up into fists, and suddenly Mingi was moving, making me gasp when I felt my back pressing into the bar, body shielded by his much taller and bigger one as he stood in front of me, gripping the other man’s forearm with a sneer on his face, “Don’t touch her.”

Mingi’s voice was low and threatening and it only took seconds for the man to start trembling as he tried to yank his arm free, looking towards his companion with a helpless look. But the man didn’t seem like he wanted to help as he watched Mingi with an open mouth.

“Mingi.” I whispered, scared that this would turn into a really bad scene, something I couldn’t help him get out of like at the Hob, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Mingi froze, dropping the man’s forearm as he turned around, eyebrows furrowed and body too close to mine. I looked up at him, finding myself breathing harder when I felt faint fingertips brushing against my knuckles, making my heart somersault.

“Yes.” And before my mind could register that Mingi had accepted to dance with me, a large hand on my waist was gently veering me around the crowd, leading me towards the dancing one, where the band’s music was louder and everyone was smiling and enjoying themselves. My heart raced in my chest as Mingi led us into the middle of the crowd, coming around me as his eyebrows were furrowed, hands hesitant to touch me anywhere despite having led me here by a hand on my waist. I gulped and raised one hand, deciding to make the first step and offering him a gentle invitation.

I didn’t think he’d actually take me up for a dance, I only said that to de-escalate the situation and to have an excuse for us to walk away from it. But Mingi seemed to take it seriously, his warm and large hand hesitantly slipping into mine. His hand was calloused from wielding a bow and arrow and from working in the back garden too, but his touch remained gentle and mindful. He didn’t wait for me to hold onto his shoulder as he pressed his other hand flatly against my lower back, guiding my body closer to his, but leaving a small gap. I gulped as I looked up, eyebrows furrowed as I fought against the tears that wanted to fill my eyes.

It felt like the world had stopped moving around us, as if the Games never existed, as if the old Mingi was back and my sister was watching us from the sidelines with a displeased look on her face. The tension eased from Mingi’s body and he looked at me with less guilt in his eyes as we made eye contact, but he still swallowed hard, lips parting as his voice was gruff and raspy, “Why are you so kind to me?”

“Because you deserve kindness,” I answered without hesitance, gripping his shoulder and clinging onto him too tightly, having little care about the fact that perhaps this was too much for Mingi, that maybe he didn’t want us standing so close, touching each other in familiar ways. But he remained silent as his body further relaxed, shoulders lowering as I felt his fingers jab into my lower back, with a tug on my belt he closed the gap between our bodies.

I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, what was supposed to be a dance position felt an awful lot like an attempt at a hug, and I couldn’t breathe as I drowned in Mingi’s closeness, warmth and safety, letting my forehead press against his collarbone as a tear rolled down my cheek.

I hadn’t cried since my sister’s death.

The days went by quickly here, people were used to their routines and they followed them diligently. Nothing ever interesting or intriguing happened, life was mostly grim and grey. Our District wasn’t well off and there were days when even the wealthiest had to sit back and consider whether throwing out money for luxuries was truly necessary or not. The Hob was filled with more and more people trying to earn a little more in plus, desperate as hungry children hid behind their mothers and hollow-cheeked men tried to be louder so that they’d attract attention upon their stalls. It was a hard-to-swallow picture at times, but it was what I grew up seeing my whole life. I still took pity on everyone, never getting quite used to seeing all the suffering these people had to endure, frequently reminded that I was one of them too, struggling at times to get by. Training to become a nurse had made me realize that I felt fulfilled helping others and that it made me find a purpose other than trying to survive day by day. It gave me hope that if I was capable of helping and healing others, instead of harming them and taking their lives away, then others were capable of taking me as an example to become better and more helpful towards their peers. District 12 had always been forgotten and misjudged by the public—hence why it came as a shock to the Capitol that Mingi was strong and perfectly capable of handling a weapon and defending himself—if our people didn’t stick together, then who would vouch for us?

Helping others, even in the smallest ways like bringing them water or even a slice of bread shouldn’t have been considered something impossible, offering a helping hand to an elderly couple shouldn’t have surprised others when they found out about it. That is why helping the Song family had never seemed like a nuisance to me. Before the Games, it didn’t feel wrong to anyone, but after Mingi returned as a Victor it wasn’t just him who was shunned, his grandparents were too, treated poorly by those who once had happily visited their small patisserie, looking out for the elderly pair who have raised a small child into a fine young man. It was disheartening to watch how the people treated the family, only to realize my own family viewed them the same way. My parents stopped asking about their well-being, about whether Mingi would’ve liked having dinner with us, whether I would go hunt with Mingi and bring back flowers for my sister, they acted as if he never existed. I understood their reasoning, but I couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t blame him for something that was out of his control, for something he was forced to do. That is why I never cared what others thought of me, what they said about me behind my back, whether they judged me or not for keeping in touch with the Song family. Only I could change my mind about them, nothing anyone else said about them could influence me in any way.

That is why I continued to stick around, that is why I visited them weekly to make sure the elderly couple was healthy and Mingi wasn’t cooped up in his room all the time. Today, just shy of a week since Mingi and I had danced at The Hut, I stopped by to see whether Mrs. Song needed help with house maintenance. I memorised the days she liked to clean the house, opening all windows and dusting off all shelves, moping the floors clean and baking something delicious for her husband and grandchild. The blueberry muffins were in the oven, their aroma making my stomach churn as Mrs. Song was perched on a chair, rearranging a shelf of books as she carefully cradled their spines, smiling whenever she opened a book, flipping through pages that were yellow already. I was sat on the windowsill as I cleaned the hinges of the window with a green rag, humming to myself as the birds outside chirped loudly, making me smile. Mr. Song had ventured inside the District, looking for trinkets as he was building a small jewellery box and needed something to decorate it with. If Mingi wasn’t home during the day, he most certainly was out hunting, so I didn’t have to ask Mrs. Song about his whereabouts.

“The Capitol people are coming next week and they’ll be here for a few days,” Mrs. Song spoke up as I felt her eyes on me, “you shouldn’t come over, for your own safety. They are curious people and they always ask questions, they always pester Mingi whether he has someone or not. There’s—bad people in the Capitol who tried to buy him but Haymitch didn’t let them, it’s a dangerous world. Mingi wouldn’t want you involved either.”

I gulped, gut coiling upon hearing people tried to buy him as if he wasn’t a living person with a will and control over his own choices, it didn’t sit well with me, “Is something the matter?”

“No, the Reaping is getting closer and President Snow wants to showcase last year’s Victor.” Mrs. Song sighed and carefully got off the chair, sitting on it instead, “Update the public about what he’s been up to lately and how he’s doing, it’s all for show, really. But Mingi hates it, he’s been more—silent and avoidant, he doesn’t leave his room so often anymore. I know he’s scared, he’s dreading the Reaping. He will probably have to go as a Mentor this year and he doesn’t want to. The nightmares are back too, I don’t know how to be there for him anymore. I don’t know what to do to reassure him anymore.”

A feeling of sadness permeated my whole being as I closed the window, shiny and as good as new as I faced Mrs. Song, “He knows you’re trying your best, and he’s trying his best too. Just let him be and offer him a shoulder to lean on when he comes to you, I think he’s gotten better at coping. I can make a tea for him, to sleep better and have less nightmares, if you want me to.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Mrs. Song smiled and stood, bringing the chair back to its spot in the kitchen. I drew the curtains together and grabbed the rag to bring it to the bathroom and wash it clean, but as I stepped into the hallway, the front door opened and Mingi stepped through the threshold. His black hair was dishevelled and his attire was completely green, his jacket undone and t-shirt underneath muddy as he kicked his dirty shoes off by the door. He hadn’t noticed me yet as he held a wild duck in his hand, an arrow still lodged in its heart.

“’Ma, I’m—” When he looked up his body tensed, eyes stopping on me. I stood up a bit straighter and offered him a small welcoming smile.

“Hello.” I greeted, holding the rag with both hands in front of me. It’s been a week since we danced together and he hadn’t been as tense around me as before, he spoke a bit more, but he still kept his distance. He didn’t look at me for too long, but his eyes looked less haunted whenever he did, “How was your hunt?”

Mingi swallowed then his eyes looked down at his hands, the dead duck wasn’t dripping blood on the clean floor at least, “Short, but I caught something at least.”

“That’s good,” I smiled a bit wider, “your grandma will make a delicious stew out of it, I’m sure.”

Mingi hummed as his eyes were stuck on the arrow that went through the duck’s heart as if he was unable to look away. His thick brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, but he abruptly raised his head, eyes hard and body alarmed as I tried to stand as unthreateningly as I could. I didn’t want to trigger any memory if able, so I looked to the side as Mingi’s eyes continued boring into the side of my face, “Would you—would you like to—if my grandma makes stew, would you—the duck I caught, I—I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched between us as I sighed, not annoyed and neither tired, just feeling defeated when I chanced a glance at Mingi. He looked disappointed as he chewed on his bottom lip, shoulders hunched forward again as his bangs fell into his eyes, “Would you like me to come over for lunch if your grandma makes stew, Mingi?”

He stiffened, flinching slightly, but he wordlessly nodded slowly, looking at me through his eyelashes. I chuckled and nodded, feeling like we had just taken an immense step towards finding common ground again, towards reestablishing what we once had, “Alright, I’ll come over if you still want me to.”

“I will.” Mingi said hurriedly, I had barely finished talking, “I won’t change my mind.”

I felt my chest slowly warm up as my smile slightly faltered, forcefully ignoring the need to walk over and hug him, inhale his earthy scent and thank him for trying to mend our lost relationship. I nodded, eyes boring into his as Mingi nodded back, shifting on his feet as if he didn’t know what to say more or what to do next. But to his luck, Mrs. Song had just walked out of the kitchen, eyes widening in delight when she noticed her grandson, “Mingi! You’re back! Go wash up, you can take care of the duck afterwards.”

Mingi nodded and walked further inside the house, making sure to avoid touching me when he passed by me as I pressed myself up against the wall. I watched him press a quick kiss against his grandmother’s cheek and then disappear inside the kitchen before he raced up the stairs without looking back. Mrs. Song chuckled before she looked at me with a knowing look in her eyes, then pointed towards the bathroom, “Were you headed in there?”

“Yes, do you need anything?” I asked as I approached her, trying to stop my eyes from gazing up at the stairs as Mingi’s loud footsteps thudded against the floorboards as he entered his room, closing the door loudly.

“I will hang up the laundry, can you bring Mingi’s clothes up to him after you’ve washed the rag?” Mrs. Song had a sweet smile on her lips as I nodded, setting into motion as I headed inside the bathroom, “My knees are old, my dear, they don’t function as well as yours or my grandson’s…”

I heard Mrs. Song mutter to herself as I chuckled quietly, nearing the sink as I looked up, met with my reflection in the mirror up on the wall. I turned on the faucet without looking down, my eyes a dark colour but under the sunlight a blazing amber—if I believed what everyone has always told me—and my short hair was braided behind my ears as that’s how far I could actually braid the strands. The two ponytails that sat at my nape were small and sometimes managed to tickle me, but I didn’t mind them, the hairstyle was practical and looked cute. I didn’t like my hair getting in my eyes when I was working with my patients, and today had been a rather packed day at the Nursery before I could leave to help Mrs. Song out.

The water was warm against my skin as I rinsed the rag out, carefully hanging it on the side of the bathtub, eyes looking around the bathroom in search of Mingi’s freshly folded clothes. They were placed on top of a low stool behind the door and I went and grabbed them, fingers curling into the soft fabric of the shirt that was at the bottom of the pile. They smelled fresh, devoid of the earthy scent Mingi usually carried with himself, a tinge of citrus could be smelt in the fabric as I brought it up to my nose, taking a deep inhale. Realizing that what I was doing was probably inappropriate, I stopped myself and rolled my shoulders back, trying to stop the blush from spreading widely onto my cheeks.

Mrs. Song was outside in the back garden as I headed for the stairs, the double doors opened and the curtains fluttered as the wind blew inside, Mrs. Song’s pleasant singing voice carried by the wind made me smile. I carefully walked up the stairs, which were made of marble like the rest of the ground floor’s flooring, and was met with pictures hung on the wall of the Song family. There were some older ones, black and white, and some newer ones where Mingi was small and smiling widely as his parents held his hands, his mother’s smile a perfect replica of Mingi’s. Mingi was the perfect mixture of his parents’ traits, but he seemed to take slightly more after his father, who had the same small and sharp eyes as his son, his nose long and tall. I was familiar with the pictures, I’ve seen them numerous times in the Song’s old house, but it brought comfort seeing them once again. The Victor houses were devoid of colours and any life, they exuberated coldness and stripped the home of any cosiness. It felt nice to see Mrs. Song trying to bring it more life with the pictures, her favourite paintings that were family heirlooms and carpets that she and Mr. Song had inherited over the years, with flowers littered around every part of the house.

I knocked on Mingi’s door, his bedroom was the last in the hallway and faced towards the forest, unsurprisingly, but there was no answer. Trying again, not intending to intrude on his privacy, I knocked some more but there was still no answer. I grabbed the doorknob and whispered his name as I poked my head inside just a little, only to realise he wasn’t in the room. Eyes widening, I pushed the door further open and froze, taken aback by what I was seeing. I had never stepped foot inside Mingi’s bedroom ever since he moved inside this house, but upon one glance, it was a replica of his old bedroom. Even the way his things were positioned was the same, his furniture the same, the only difference being the white walls while in his old bedroom, they were grey and the paint was chapped, falling off in some places. It smelled like musk and something citrusy inside, perhaps oranges, as I let the door close behind me, a single lamp lit on his desk despite it being daytime. His blackout curtains were drawn together, but based on the volume of the birds chirping, I could tell the windows were open. Walking further inside, I noticed a small notebook opened on top of his desk, a pencil on the floor and the beginning of a sketch that looked an awful lot like the meadow.

There was a thud behind me and as I turned around, I just realized there was a door inside the room, closed but light flooded out from underneath it. Deciding to place the clothes on Mingi’s bed, I took off towards it just as the door opened and warm steam wafted outside of it. Freezing, I opened my mouth to quickly explain myself but was caught off guard by what I saw. Mingi, still oblivious to my presence fumbled with the light switch as he stepped outside of the joint bathroom, hair dripping wet and torso bare as a black towel hung low on his hips. His cheeks were flushed and the water from his hair dropped to his wide shoulders, quickly trailing down his broad chest, between his pecks until they disappeared into the towel. The beginning of a happy trail started just where the towel concealed his lower body and I gasped, turning my head away when I felt my whole face on fire.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were showering!” My voice was high-pitched, flustered and sounded embarrassed too, “Your grandmother asked me to bring up your clothes and I—I knocked, I really did but you didn’t answer and I—I’m sorry. I really am, I’ll go, I just—”

My heart was beating so fast and loud, I was sure Mingi could hear it too in the silence that followed my frantic explanation, hands slightly shaking as I placed the pile of clothes on his bed, clumsily knocking some over. Letting out a frustrated huff, I fumbled around as I grabbed them, folding them again as I tried to ignore Mingi’s frozen form in the room, dark eyes trained on my body, watching me wordlessly.

“You can leave them, I have to put them away either way.” Mingi’s voice was deep, tone light despite our predicament. I gulped and stopped, closing my eyes as I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves before I stood up straight, letting go of the short-sleeved white shirt I was about to fold.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized again, keeping my eyes glued to the floorboards, “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” It was unlike Mingi to cut me off, especially with so much understanding in his voice. He hadn’t talked to me like that since the Games, he hadn’t kept his eyes so insistently on me ever since the Games. My cheeks were still burning, not because I caught Mingi half-naked, but instead because he wasn’t looking away, he was trying to catch my gaze as he lowered his eyes, “Thank you.”

My muscles became tense, eyebrows slightly furrowing as I licked my lips, not quite understanding what he was saying thank you for so earnestly. I hadn’t done anything of great importance, I just merely brought his clothes up for him because his grandmother was old and probably struggled scaling the stairs so many times a day. Willing myself to look up, to tell him that he didn’t have to thank me for something so simple, the words got stuck in my throat as we made eye contact. His face looked relaxed, wet strands falling onto his forehead in a way that didn’t obscure his vision and he wasn’t hyperventilating and neither looking uncomfortable. I gulped, opening my mouth to say something, but my eyes slipped and landed on his left arm where a big red gash stood out strikingly against his tan complex. My eyebrows furrowed as I continued looking at it, and when Mingi realized, he hid his arm behind his back.

“When did you get that?” I asked, concern lacing my voice.

“Yesterday.” Mingi’s answer was short, voice once again void of any emotion.

“Did you treat it?”

“Washed it with warm water.”

“That’s not good enough,” I muttered, eyebrows furrowing in worry as I looked back up at him, “you need to disinfect it and put ointment on it, you should also probably wrap it up with gauze too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve survived worse.” I knew he didn’t mean to sound so aggressive as he said that because he flinched, his right hand balling up into a fist as he averted his eyes, turning his head to the side.

“I know,” I whispered, but I wasn’t about to let him walk around with a fresh cut, “but you need to treat that. I’ll be right back.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to—” But I was out the door before he could finish his sentence, hurrying down the long hallway and then skipping down the stairs as Mrs. Song remained outside, now sitting in a chair as she watched the bees that flew onto the flowers in her garden, a content smile on her lips. I rushed towards the downstairs bathroom and opened the cabinet above the bathtub, grabbing the distilled water, saline solution, a soothing ointment I learned how to make from my sister, and some gauze. As I left the bathroom and raced back up the stairs, I heard the front door opening, meaning that Mr. Song had also returned home. In my rush to get back to Mingi and treat his fresh wound, I forgot to knock to warn him that I was heading in, but thankfully he was fully dressed and sitting on his bed, left leg bent while the right one hung off the side of the bed. He looked up alarmed as I heaved a sigh, closing the door behind me and placing everything on the bed in front of Mingi as I neared him.

“May I wash my hands in your bathroom?” Mingi didn’t hesitate to nod and I quickly went inside and washed my hands thoroughly with soap, letting them dry on their own as I walked back inside his room, pulling the bathroom door closed with my foot. Mingi watched me, neck craned as I stopped next to him staring down at the bed as I debated whether I should ask him to turn around or sit opposite him. Deciding that he looked comfortable and I didn’t want to bother him, I got on the bed across from him, sitting on my knees as I lowered myself on my legs, looking down at the solutions I brought, “May I see the wound?”

Mingi froze for a second, but he didn’t stall for long as he extended his arm, shuffling closer when he realized we sat too far from each other. He gulped, loudly, but I ignored it as I grabbed his arm and pulled it towards my lap, eyebrows furrowing as I inspected it. The skin wasn’t red around it, thankfully, but the wound seemed rather irritated. I looked at him for a brief second, surprised to find Mingi looking at me intensely, “May I touch you?”

“Yes.” His voice was low and raspy as he answered, and he tensed when I hummed, looking back down at the wound. I sighed and gently traced the skin around the wound, making sure there were no bumps or smaller cuts before I grabbed some gauze and poured distilled water on it. Mingi helped me uncap the bottle and then held it for me as I placed his arm back in my lap, gently tapping the gauze on the wound, knowing that it probably wouldn’t hurt him. He remained silent and I didn’t speak up despite wanting to ask questions about how he got this wound, I just handed him back the lid and he lidded the bottle before putting it aside.

“This might sting a bit,” I warned him as I grabbed the saline solution and opened the bottle, pausing to look at him, “did the soap sting?”

“Yeah, yesterday,” Mingi mumbled and looked away, lowering his head as his shoulders were hunched forward. His hair was damp, but at least water wasn’t dripping everywhere from it anymore. He wore fluffy trousers and a white t-shirt which was a bit tight and clung to his body, enunciating his scrawny but broad form. I hummed and tapped his wrist to warn him that I would pour the saline solution on the open wound now, which thankfully didn’t need stitches as it wasn’t deep enough. The muscles of Mingi’s arm tensed when the solution reached his wound, but he made no sounds. I made sure to pour only as much as was needed to disinfect the wound and glanced up at him, finding his jaw clenched and nose scrunched up as he stared down at his lap. Closing the saline solution bottle, I grabbed a clean gauze and folded it so that I could tap it against his skin. We remained silent as I worked slowly and carefully, not wanting to cause more discomfort. I felt Mingi’s eyes on me when I placed the bottles aside and grabbed the small can, my hand falling next to his as I paused.

“This won’t sting, it’ll help ease any discomfort and soothe the burn.” I informed him and then opened the can, taking a copious amount of ointment on my fingers before I started rubbing it into the wound, not pressing it too much as I knew it would hurt, “You should use this three times a day until it fades into a scar, and if you go hunting, you should wrap it up with gauze for some extra protection. If anything gets into it, it might get infected. I should check up on it in two weeks, but if it starts bothering you in any way, let me know as fast as possible, okay?”

I looked at Mingi with raised eyebrows and he nodded wordlessly as I sighed, glad that I could help. I closed the small can and placed it next to his knee so that he’d put it away somewhere where it was close by, and prepared to grab the dirty gauze and bottles, when long and thick fingers curled around my right wrist, halting my movements. I froze, staring ahead at Mingi’s chest as it was rising and falling rhythmically. His head was still lowered, eyes obscured as his big hand felt cold against my skin, the hold gentle and not bruising.

“Thank you.” I smiled and nodded with a hum, letting my eyes rest on his face, which he was trying to hide.

“Of course, Mingi.” But maybe I said something wrong because his head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes searched mine, lips pursed as he looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why are you so nice to me, Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as his fingers uncurled from my wrist, dropping down between us, accidentally brushing against my knee.

“Because you deserve kindness,” I wanted Mingi to understand that he wasn’t different than anyone else, that he was a person who deserved to be treated well and with love and tenderness, “Because you’re a human being with feelings and thoughts and struggles just like everyone else. You don’t deserve to be treated badly for what you were forced to do, everyone would’ve done the same if they were in your place, Mingi. You’re gentle and compassionate, you’re easily spooked and you’re clumsy despite being tall and strong, you listen to others and you help them. You’re kind and you’re a good person despite what others might think and say now about you. You’ve always picked me up when I fell, you never laughed when I didn’t know something, you waited for me when nobody else did, and you never seemed to forget about me when everyone else did.”

My breath hitched in my throat when Mingi’s hand raised, warm and hesitant as it cupped my right cheek, his fingers burning my skin as I continued speaking, “I’m not scared of you Mingi, you’ll always be the shy little boy to me who carried me on his back when my feet started hurting and pulled on my hair when I threatened to fall asleep in classes. Nothing will change that, not even you pushing me away.”

I watched as Mingi’s eyes got teary, his bottom lip shaking as his hand fell from my cheek, making me miss his warmth as I almost grabbed onto his hand to press it back against my skin, yearning for his touch. But he only hunched more into himself, shoulders shaking, and I knew he wanted to be alone, with nobody to see him as he became vulnerable and emotional. Gathering the things I brought with myself beside the ointment, I left the room, leaving him alone to mule over the words I had said to me.

I could only hope he would start believing them

And maybe my words did get through to him because the next time the two of us were out in the forest to hunt, we ran into each other and instead of him running away like always, he stopped walking and waited for me to reach him. He was just about to jump over the fence when he glanced over his shoulder and spotted my approaching form. I smiled widely at him and waved as I hurried my steps, holding onto the bow that was around my shoulders, ten arrows sitting in the holster by my hip. Mingi’s bow was around his shoulders too, but his holster was next to it instead of it being on his hip, and he wore his green jacket and black-coloured pants. It was a sunny day today, so I didn’t wear my usual hunting gear, just a light blouse that had to be laced up at the chest and trousers that once belonged to my sister.

“Hello, Y/N.” I froze when I heard him greet me, usually not being the first one to acknowledge my existence. My smile became wider as I had to look up at him, shielding my eyes with a hand as the sun shone down on us brightly.

“Mingi, hi!” My tone was laced with enthusiasm, and despite Mingi not smiling, I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t in a displeased mood, “Did you just arrive?”

“Yes, I planned to hunt for a few hours today, it’s too warm to sit by the house.” It was a long sentence, a longer answer, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. I tried to tell my racing heart to calm down, to savour the moment while it lasted. In his eyes, which were lighter under the bright sunlight, I recognized the spark which was always present in the Mingi before he left for the Games.

“I agree, it’s even worse further into the District,” I nodded and grabbed the fence, “Would you…like to hunt with me?”

It was a bold offer, I knew it could sour Mingi’s mood rather quickly, but I could only hope he wouldn’t turn me down. I missed hunting with someone, I missed the dynamic that came when you had someone next to you, how much more silent you needed to be, more careful and more vigilant. I used to hunt with my sister almost daily, we’d sneak out when our parents were busy and would only return by nightfall. Once, we ventured further into the forest, far from the meadow, and discovered that there was a small but beautiful lake an hour away. We rarely went out there, out of fear of the Capitol watching over it, but I cherished the memories we shared there with my sister.

“Yes, we could hunt together.” Mingi’s answer was unexpected, and my eyes widened as I looked up at him, trying to read his expression but it didn’t say much. He nodded more to himself before he gripped the fence and pulled himself up halfway, jumping over it and landing with precision, it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Knowing that I’d never be able to jump over it, I crouched and pulled on the fence just underneath the sign that warned us of high voltage, creating a gap where I could go through. Mingi watched with surprise as I came up next to him, pushing the fence back so that it wouldn’t be visible that there was a passageway.

“Was that always there?” Mingi asked amazed, still looking at the fence as I readjusted my blouse.

“Yes,” I said with a chuckle, taking off towards the trees, “I’m too short to jump over the fence, did you think I did the same as you to get out?”

“Yes?” Mingi asked as he averted his eyes, cheeks dusted pink as he made me chuckle. I bumped my shoulder into his as we walked further inside the forest, covered by the shade of trees which brought me instant relief as sweat had broken out on my forehead and temples. I patted them off with the sleeve of my blouse and grabbed onto my belt as we walked around bushes and stepped over fallen logs, hiding behind a boulder as we spotted a deer. Our breaths were synchronised as Mingi and I peeked out above the boulder, watching the pretty deer as it remained oblivious to our presence. Mingi’s fingers tightened around his bow as he exhaled, and I turned my head to watch him curiously. We had to remain silent in order not to alert our prey, but I couldn't help myself.

“Will you claim it?” I whispered, the sound quiet as Mingi took his bottom lip between his teeth, his head turning. Our faces were close as he exhaled, the warm air brushing against my cheeks, but he shook his head.

“I don’t hunt deer anymore, they are too beautiful,” Mingi answered, voice less cautious as the deer’s head snapped up and looked around, aware that it wasn’t alone anymore. I didn’t say anything for a second, just savoured our closeness and Mingi’s musky scent combined with the earth around us, as our eyes bore into each other. I hummed and faced the deer at last, watching as it continued eating once it decided that it wasn’t in danger.

“Should we head further in, then?” I raised an eyebrow, a friendly smile settling on my lips, “Find the wild ducks?”

Mingi and I made brief eye contact as he nodded, and then we both straightened up and stepped around the boulder, alerting the deer and making it run off in fright. My eyes followed it, remembering the one time my sister ruthlessly hunted down one of them, telling me that an animal was a source of food no matter how pretty as I started crying while I watched it die. I didn’t join my sister for a week after that incident, and I felt warmness spread through my chest that now I knew Mingi didn’t like hunting them either. Wild ducks were a little bit easier to hunt, at the beginning I wasn’t keen on capturing them, but famish was horrible and it made us do things we didn’t want to.

I followed after Mingi in silence as he jumped over rocks and logs, navigating his way around the forest as if it was his second home—which it might’ve been at this point—watching closely the way he moved, the way he carried himself. His shoulders were pulled back and his back was straight, he moved with elegance and confidence as he pushed the branches of a tree to the side, waiting for me and holding it for me as well. His muscles weren’t too tense and he seemed to be at ease as a small smile played at his lips, probably subconsciously, as his sharp eyes surveyed the place every other minute, looking for the wild ducks but also to spot any other possible prey. A red fox jumped in front of us and made me gasp as I didn’t expect it, and once Mingi’s initial shock was gone and he lowered the protective arm he’d put in front of me, he grinned at the fox and stomped his foot once, making it run off. I curled my palms into fists when our knuckles brushed together as we walked side by side, trying to fight the urge to hold onto his hand and intertwine our fingers. I missed holding his big hands, feeling their callousness and the few silver rings he wore dig into my skin.

Mingi slowed his steps when he spotted the wild ducks and I made sure to remain quiet as I watched mine too. He motioned behind a tree and we lowered ourselves behind it, peeking out at the ducks from both sides of the trunk. Mingi faced me with a questioning expression and I nodded once as I moved slowly and silently, taking my bow and an arrow as I hooked it, getting in a better position to pull it back. Mingi watched me closely as my muscles tensed and my arm pulled even further back, lips brushing against the arrow as Mingi hummed once, throwing a pebble to make the ducks fly off. I sprung up and locked onto my prey, letting go of the arrow at once as we watched it shoot straight at a wild duck, hitting it and making it fall onto the forest ground. My heart was beating fast, making my body warm as my blood flowed faster, cheeks tinged red as I smiled widely, pulling another arrow to shoot another duck that wasn’t spooked and remained behind. I hit that one too, and wondered when Mingi would shoot his own shot, but when my head turned to look at him, he was frozen and his eyes were wide. His knuckles were white as he had grabbed onto the tree tightly, breathing faster than before.

Realizing that something wasn’t right, I lowered my bow and scootched closer to him, “Mingi?”

My voice was quiet and cautious as Mingi mumbled to himself, seemingly stuck somewhere inside his mind as his body shivered, “No.”

I realized he was having a flashback when he gasped loudly and stood up straight abruptly, shaking his head more feverishly, “No! Stop, no!”

I let my bow fall to the ground as I stepped closer, trying to stabilize my breaths, “Mingi, focus on me. Listen to my voice—”

“No, she’s dead!” He screamed, voice raw and raspy as he faced me frantically, his body shaking, “I—the arrow—I killed her, she’s—she’s bleeding, I—”

“Mingi!” My tone was higher as I grabbed his wrist tightly and stared up into his eyes, “Snap out of it, it’s not real. We’re in the forest—”

“No, I killed her. She’s dead, you—you are dead, I—” Mingi gasped loudly and tried to yank his wrist free, but I grabbed onto his arms and yanked him closer to myself, forcing him to remain by my side.

“I’m not her.” My voice was harsh, eyebrows furrowed, “It’s me, Y/N, we’re back in District 12, in the forest, hunting. It was a wild duck, Mingi.”

It took him a few seconds to realize I was saying the truth, that the face which was talking to him wasn’t that of my dead twin sister’s, but of the girl he left behind when he left for the Games, the girl who he abandoned when he returned, “Mingi.”

“Why?” His voice was shaky and he suddenly stepped closer, all up in my personal space. I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, “Why are you doing this? Why are you still here? Why do you talk to me? Why don’t you hate me? Why don’t you—just kill me?!”

His tone rose with each desperate question, his bottom lip shaking as his eyes filled with tears, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “What do you want from me? Just let me—hate me, Y/N, shun me away, scream at me and slap me, I—I don’t deserve any kindness. I don’t deserve you anymore, I’m a monster. I’m a criminal, I murdered her, I shot the arrow straight through her heart. I have no future, I’m a nobody, I don’t deserve to be alive, why are you still with me?!”

“Mingi!” I screamed, making him flinch as I shook his hands off my arms and cupped his cheeks instead, pulling his head down to be eye level with me, “Look me in the eyes, Mingi.”

But he didn’t, he looked at the ground and shook his head, sniffing loudly as my jaw clenched, “Look me in the eyes, I said, Song Mingi.”

I had never spoken to him harshly, I had never demanded anything of him before, and upon hearing my tone and words, his eyes snapped up, wide and shaking, “Look at me. My eyes are dark, just like yours, hers were light like the sky during the day. My hair is short and wavy, hers was long and straight, always in a perfect bun while mine is almost impossible to tame. I’m tall, she was shorter and always complained about it. My voice is higher-pitched and warmer, more comforting, hers was raspy and always demanding, always ordering something. We smell different, she loved flowers and smelled like them, and I hate flowers and would rather cover myself in mud than smell like it. My body is covered in moles and hers barely had three, all on her face meanwhile mine has none. I like to read about nature and birdwatch as well as stargaze and braid hair, she hated reading and she only watched the night sky because she knew I loved it, she never braided her hair because the strands were too thin and would constantly fall out. I want to heal and help people because I love our humanity and I’m conscious that we are here one day and the next maybe not, she wanted to heal people because it made her feel like she had control over life, because she never got to control her own life, Mingi.

“She was mean to you and she didn’t like you, she pushed you around and made fun of you whenever she could. I never did, I always wanted to be by your side, I wanted to talk to you and listen to your stories, I wanted to shield you from her harsh words. You wanted to dance with her, but she always refused, so I took her place hoping it’d make you happy since I looked like her, I hoped you’d be able to imagine it was her and not me. I help your grandparents because I want to and because I care about them, not because our parents sent us over to your house to help you out, I didn’t do it because I knew our mother would buy us new dresses. I don’t want to see you in pain and agony over having killed my twin sister, Mingi, I have never hated you for it, and I have never resented you for what you had done, so please, stop seeing her in me and look at me. See me, Mingi, please.”

Mingi was crying by the time I was done talking, his body shaking as he forced his eyes shut, his tears wetting my hands as I rubbed the skin under his eyes as his arms no longer lay limply by his side but circled my waist and pulled me into him, embracing me in a tight hug as I let him burry his head in my neck, heart-wrenching sobs leaving his mouth as I ran my fingers through his smooth hair, allowing him to let out all the grief and pain he’s felt and tried to push down.

“I forgive you, Mingi,” I said it because I knew it was what he needed to hear and not because he had anything to be forgiven for, “for everything.”

He nodded his head frantically as he continued crying, fingers digging into my blouse desperately as his loud sobs echoed around us, a few Mockingjays picking up on it and carrying it further inside the forest. I hugged him closer to my body when his muscles started easing up and I massaged his scalp when his sobs started vanning, hiccups and sniffing following it, tight embrace turning into comfortable body warmth that screamed out for companionship.

And I knew he’d get better, he was strong, and he was no pawn of the Capitol.

2 months later

The sun had lost some of its warmth now that autumn was approaching and I didn’t feel ready to let go of the lush green scenery, of the forest that brought such huge refuge and safety. The meadow was full of blooming colours, of flowers that made me sneeze, of bees that were loud and made Mingi jump every time they flew past him. I had my eyes closed as I played with the petal of a Musk Mallow, the person lying next to me fidgeting every few seconds as he was afraid of bugs. I had a smile on my face as he finally sighed and gave up, sitting up as he pulled his knees into his chest. The Reaping was tomorrow, the Peacekeepers were getting the square ready, and the train bringing the Capitol people would arrive tomorrow. Effie Trinket would act like picking a boy and girl for the Games was normal and Haymitch would be probably black-out drunk while Mingi would stand on the podium shaking and looking sickly pale.

“I’m scared.” As if hearing my thoughts, he whispered, “I’m not ready to return, I don’t want to go back, Y/N.”

“They will never make you go back into the Games.” I tried to remind him.

“I know, I just can’t watch a child I know attempt to train for something that will lead to their dismay.” Mingi’s voice was defeated as I blinked my eyes open, raising my hand to shield them from the sun.

“Perhaps District 12 will have another Victor, Mingi, have more faith in them.” I tried to sound encouraging, but I knew it was of no use. Mingi and my sister got reaped when they were eighteen, what was supposed to be their last year participating in the Reaping. The odds were rarely in our favour.

“I can’t be a mentor, it’s too soon.” Mingi pressed his forehead against his knees, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. I sighed and followed him, sitting up as I pulled something out of my pocket.

“You’ll be fine, you won’t be alone and you’ll be a good mentor, Mingi.” I said with an encouraging smile as he turned his head to look at me, “They won’t hurt you at the Capitol, they can’t. Remember, you are your own master and you can’t let President Snow get inside your head. You did well when they came to take the interview all those months ago, you’ll be able to ace this too. I believe in you, Mingi.”

He bit his bottom lip, eyes searching my face before they settled on my own, our gazes boring together as I looked down at my hands, playing with the single pearl on the bracelet. Taking a deep breath, I looked back up at Mingi and smiled at him softly, extending my hand with the bracelet towards him, “For you, as a token of good luck and trust, because I trust you and I—I’ll be here, home, waiting for you to return to me, Mingi.”

Gaze softening as he straightened up, he took the bracelet from me, his warm fingers grazing my palm as they curled around the bracelet, a small happy smile spreading onto his lips. He looked at it for another long moment, inspecting the pearl just like I had done after I brought it home, and then he looked up again, turning his head to face me. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’ll miss you, Y/N, so much.”

I smiled and released a quiet breath as Mingi leaned closer, supporting himself with a hand as my eyes fluttered closed, his plump lips hovering just for a second before they pressed against mine firmly. They were warm and not as chapped as they usually were since I had made him an ointment to use, and they were soft and tasted of the chamomile tea his grandmother made us drink before we headed for the meadow. I kissed back with passion, hoping it would convey all the unspoken things, all the words I wasn’t able to say yet, but would say when the timing was right. His kisses were always careful and gentle, like him, hesitant until his brain registered that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me, only becoming firm and demanding when he couldn’t withhold himself anymore. I smiled as we pulled back, our lips making a funny sound when Mingi chased after mine and pressed a loud quick kiss against them again, making himself blush and giggle as he turned his head, gazing out towards the trees and shade.

“I’ll take care of your grandparents in your absence,” I promised as I offered him my hand, heart leaping in my chest when his longer and thicker fingers slipped between mine, intertwining with confidence and conviction.

“Thank you, they’ll probably ask you to sleep over sometimes.” Mingi said, his thumb rubbing my knuckle as I squeezed his hand, “They don’t like the quiet when it’s just the two of them.”

“I’ll make sure to spend the night from time to time,” I promised again with a smile on my lips as Mingi and I glanced at each other, settling into a comfortable silence as I helped him wear the bracelet before we scooted closer to each other, hands still intertwined and gazing forward at the serene nature, the deer that played around oblivious to our presence, the leaves that were moved by the wind.

There were days when things were harder to cope with, when Mingi couldn’t get out of bed and when he didn’t want to see anyone, but there were days when Mingi couldn’t stop laughing, when he cradled me against his chest and told me he loved me, when he promised to marry me if our world miraculously changed for the better. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to remain by his side, that we’d both be faced with challenges and hardships, judged by our people and by the Capitol, but we didn’t care. Something that we both loved and cherished had been ripped from us by tyrants, my sister and his innocence, we’d stop bowing down to the pressure to live a life that we didn’t want.

And, sometime in the near future, we both knew that dire days were coming before a bright and free future,

“And the Tributes from District 12 of the 74th Hunger Games are…Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!” ~ Suzanne Collins

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