hyvneluv

[hyvneluv]

☆°. — aphrodite ; hhj

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 4.4k

warnings/ content: established relationship, hyunjin is very needy and obsessive, body worship (feet stuff..... hear me out y'all), oral (f receiving), SLIGHT foot job HEAR ME OUT Y'ALL, also not edited because i'm lazy

author's note: okay. you all need to hear me out because i didn't know this fic woul dabble into unknown territory but trust me it's NOT a feet kink kinda fic it's a body worship fic!!!! don't let the mention of feet stop you from this fic pls i swear it makes sense with hyunjin ( @astraystayyh can confirm i converted her). also this fic is inspired by so many different things i can't name them all, but one of them is this song.

Your body registered the deep grunt before your brain properly did; you tensed, the hairs on your skin standing straight, your core tingling with delight. You gave the man in your bed a curious look, one eyebrow raised; and you almost sighed out in response. Hyunjin was in nothing but boxers, your blanket – long smelling of him, or a mixture of you and him, or sex and him – lazily draped over his lean body, not necessarily to cover him but just because it was there. And it was barely covering him, in the first place; revealing his entire upper body and one leg which he couldn’t hold still, digging it into your mattress, or stretching. His shaved head was buried in your pillows – also holding his scent, reminding you of the times you pulled it close to your body and breathed it in whenever he couldn’t stay overnight – and he looked tortured, somehow. Laying on his side but writhing, half of his face hidden in the pillowcase before he sighed out hopelessly, and threw himself on his back. His body tensed with the movement, abdomen clenching and revealing muscle, shoulders protruding, the skin there stretching thinly, and it gave you the godliest sight. And then he looked at you. Finally. Deep eyes locking with yours, reading you, pleading you, begging you for something yet unspoken. But you could tell he was; his telltale puppy eyes, his blown out pupils, his quivering lip. His scrunched, full brows. Not only could you look at him forever, you also knew he wanted something. Something from you.  

You cocked your head, stopped in your work – assignments you needed to complete, deadlines you had to meet, and Hyunjin had complained about it plenty when you had left the bed to sit at your desk. His hand had not let go of you until the very last moment, tracing your curves while you had stood up and put on a shirt of his, having been thrown to the floor mindlessly last night, or earlier that day, you weren’t quite sure. Time was hardly ever separable with him, minutes becoming hours becoming days, and nights, and you never knew when one ended and the other began. Hyunjin’s fingers had caressed your body up until the very point you’d been unreachable to him, and you had felt his touch linger on your skin, hot and scorching, when you sat before your laptop. You had also heard his moans and grunts of protest, but you had done your best to tease at him; despite everything in your body screaming to just slide back into his arms, warm and long and inviting, steady. 

And your body was screaming now, too. He looked so adoring, so comfortable. He looked so desperate looking at you, chest heaving with his breathing, as if to tempt you on purpose, as if to navigate your attention towards it. To the smooth skin of his body, his prominent collarbones scattered with love bites, his hardened nipples. It wasn’t cold in the room. 

You caught his face again. If he’d noticed you staring he didn’t let you know, and you broke under his gaze, eventually. 

“What’s up babe.” The tone of you voice didn’t ask a question, and you chuckled when he groaned again and let his hand drag over his face. Utterly tortured. So dramatic. You rolled your eyes with a smile even though he couldn’t see, too busy being tragic. He huffed out, looked at you again. 

Suddenly shy; you thought you caught him blush. 

“This song makes me so horny.”, he muffled into the pillow, turning in your bed again, stomach now hidden, exposing his back instead. He had barely spoken the words when you started laughing, brightly. You registered the song playing on your speakers, one on your joined playlist, the deep bass and sensual melody filling the room, the echoes and lazy voices setting a nice mood if combined with the vanilla scented candles you had lit, the dim lights you had turned on. The sunset you had opened the blinds for. You laughed because it was absurd. Because Hyunjin looking so pained, so desperate and tense because of a song was amusing; but it made sense. 

Of course he would get horny over a song. Of course he would remember how you had stood between his legs just hours prior while he sat on the closed toilet seat, only a towel wrapped around his waist while this very song was playing from your phone. Of course he would remember how you had dried your hair right in front of him, chest inches away from his face, how he had tried to continue the oh so innocent conversation you had started, adamant to look into your eyes, to look up, to not let himself get distracted, how he had grown weak and started kissing your breasts, instead, eventually. As if he’d been bound to. With the song setting the mood hours prior too, how he had started letting his fingers dance upon your outer thighs before finding your core, asking for permission with big, dark eyes. It made sense that he would remember how you had sighed his name when the tongue of his had found your nipple, when his free hand started softly caressing your sides, your waist, your hips, cupping your chest, licking you, kissing you, fingering you so softly only minutes after you’d had made love in the shower. And in bed before that. And on the couch in your living room before that. 

Of course Hyunjin would remember how the song had played every time your lips clashed together, when his hands found your mounds, intertwined with your fingers, when your scent, your taste met his mouth; he was your hopeless romantic, after all, always caught on the mundane, fixated on the very nihil and it always meant the world to him. A song. Of course a song would mean the world to him; if only it reminded him of you. 

But still you laughed. Teased him. Because sometimes you liked to, and sometimes you just couldn’t let him distract you, as much as you would want him to. You watched his writhing figure, but couldn’t for too long; the muscles in his back spasmed with every bass in the song, and his arms tensed when he let them disappear beneath the pillow, hugging it. Something about it was sinful, suggestive. You imagined your own body there, between his arms, in place of the pillow, how his face would lay on your stomach, how his hot breath would fan over your skin, how good he would make you- 

“Don’t laugh at me.”, he whined. He hadn’t seen you stare. Thankfully. He would have been the one teasing long already, and you converted your eyes back to your laptop. Deep breaths. Taking deep. Deep. Breaths. 

“It is kinda funny, you have to admit.”, you breathed, huffing amusement past your nose. If you weren’t looking at him, teasing was far easier. And then he groaned again, deep, a little raspy, and it reminded you that, no, it was never easier with him. Your ears were as much slave to his eros as your eyes were, his voice as tantalising as his body was. He tsked, and you heard him ruffle again. “It’s not… fuck…”, he sighed, and a magnet pulled your eyes towards him. His own ones were buried in his elbow, as though hiding his face from you would make him less embarrassed, or less horny, or gave you less a reason to laugh at him. His brows scrunched, and he hummed before his body moved. Before his hips rolled a little into the mattress, into your mattress; at least that’s what you think they were doing. You couldn’t tell for sure under the thick blanket, but you knew him enough to guess. You knew the patterns of his muscles enough to recognize it, and you almost copied him, almost rubbed yourself against nothing, onto thin air. Another hum, and he moved to turn around again. 

“I’m so hard.” This time he said it with a self-deprecating laugh himself, hiding his face in his hand, and you wanted to lick it, each of his fingers, reminded of how he had pushed two of them past your lips under the shower. How he had looked at you while doing so. How he had fucked your mouth with them, slowly, making you gag on digits so long with eyes so hooded and dark that you had come moments later. You were sure the chair beneath you was wet now. Your panties sure as hell were. 

He looked up at you from beneath his lashes. Fuck. Hyunjin turned to his side, to face you, to be closer to you; his face contorted in pain or pleasure then, you couldn’t decipher, but it had the same effect on you anyways. One arm of his reached out, falling over the edge of the mattress. Calling you silently. Tempting you. 

“Please, babe. Come back to bed.”

You considered it. Your work wasn’t even half-way done and it was calling you, your laptop screaming your name loudly, but Hyunjin was screaming it louder. With his eyes, with his body. With his fingers that reached you, fanning over your shivering leg. Lulling you, intoxicating you. 

You considered it, but you only smiled at your lover. “I have to finish this, love.” You weren’t lying. But you wanted him at the very edge. Not normally the one to behave the way you did this moment, but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the whine which tore through Hyunjin’s throat, frustrated and dissatisfied. As if you were all the salvation in the world. As if you were the only one capable of releasing him from the depths of hell. 

“Please. It hurts.” 

His words were but a whisper, pout written over his features, lips so plump and pink and you thought you heard him downright pant. Maybe he was at the very edge already, had been for longer you initially believed. 

You chuckled, feigning coyness, pretended to understand whatever the hell you had written on your Word Document when you looked at it again. The words were a blur, the meaning more so; you only felt Hyunjin’s fingers on your leg, pleading. 

“I have to finish this, babe. You can… relieve yourself. Can’t you?” Giving him a bashful look over the shoulder, and it was Hyunjin’s turn to laugh now. A deep laugh, not so much amused as surprised. He turned to lay on his back again; when you glinted over at his body, you believed to see the faint outline of his erection when the blanket betrayed him. He let his palm smooth over his body, over his stomach down to his abdomen, looking sultry while doing so, his body tensing due to his very own ministrations. He knew you were looking at him; and you really, really shouldn’t have. Because there was no way you would finish your work now.

“Oh yeah? You would like that, wouldn’t you? If I touched myself?”

As if to emphasize his words he let his hand wander further down, palming himself over his boxers. You could only half see, the blanket covering him mostly, but you saw enough. You saw his veiny hands on his sex, alluring, calling you when he gave himself a squeeze which tickled a moan out of him. You hummed in response; neither affirmative nor negative, and you heard Hyunjin turn around in your sheets again when you discarded your eyes from him completely. Felt his fingers on your calf again. Felt his hand – warm, slightly sweaty, trembling – close around your ankle then, suddenly, catching you off guard. He turned you around in your working chair and pulled you closer by your leg, and you giggled when you faced him, his face by your feet you rested on the edge of the bed, hand still enclosing your ankle. 

Something deep, something in the pit of your stomach fluttered when you watched Hyunjin look up at you. When you noticed how his touch felt on your skin. How it ignited you. How it weakened you. A gasp turned to a breathless chuckle when Hyunjin’s lips connected to the foot he yet held in his palm. One kiss atop it and his hand slid slightly upwards, up your calf, up where he knew you were sensitive. Always along the inner side, with fingers delicate, with touches featherlight because he knew you liked the way it tickled. He caressed your foot with his lips, giving it wet kisses. Along every inch and he loved the way you tensed beneath his touch. He loved to watch your brows furrow when he gave your toe a kitten lick before kissing it, lavishing, bathing in the feeling of you. In the intimacy you provided. In the fact that you allowed him to love you like this, so openly, so desperately. 

So obsessively. Hyunjin would say that a lot; that he was obsessed with you. Obsessed with everything about you. In between kisses he would whisper it into your ear, or mumble it into your neck before biting down at the skin there, or sighing it into your pussy when he couldn’t seem to disconnect from it for hours. You would hear it so often, and yet you never grew used to it. Initially, you failed to understand just how obsessed your lover was with you; because the first time he had kissed your foot – his hard erection had been deep inside you and one leg of yours had lay atop his shoulder so he could reach even deeper, and he had pecked it, mindlessly, as though a bodily instinct, a biological reaction – you had flinched, drew back your leg in surprise. He had apologized, you had reassured him. Had confronted him later, though; because you had been perplexed. 

“No.”, he had said, “it’s not a… fetish. I just love you. I don’t know.”, upon your question why he hadn’t told you sooner if this was something he liked. 

“I like that, though.”, he had breathed when you had looked embarrassed, that part of your surprise had been the sheer fact that you hadn’t prepared for it. That your feet had been calloused, wearing long weeks of work. Your nails had been cut carelessly, they hadn’t been painted. “I would have, like, gotten a pedicure, if you told me you were into that.” Hyunjin had shook his head, almost frantically. “I love the way they are right now. They’re… natural. They show how hard you work. That you, like… walk on this earth. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Not a fetish, you had realized then; adoration. He carried a deep adoration for your body. For every part of it. And ever since then you had understood his obsession a little better. 

So you let him kiss your feet now. Because he did so eagerly. Humming against your skin, lost in you as if kissing you, tickling you, licking and lapping you up was bringing him pleasure beyond human comprehension. And you could only watch, mesmerized. Baffled. That a man so beautiful loved you. That a man so perfect obsessed over you. That he now looked up at you, deer eyes beneath deep lashes, and he was breathless, panting. 

“Let me taste your pussy, please.” 

You hissed at his voice, at his hot breath against your ankle, at his brows which formed a line from how much he was frowning in frustration. You hissed from the implication of his words; no, not the implication. He wasn’t implying anything; he was downright begging. Shamelessly. Openly. For something so vulnerable, something which was so intimately, so carnally a part of you. He was begging for the most carnal part, and he was doing it so helplessly. So prettily. You thought he had never looked more beautiful than this. Than when he was loving you.

You nodded with heaving chest, spread your legs on the chair, shuffled forward a little; Hyunjin didn’t even bother with your underwear. He pulled your panties to the side, quickly, as though you were granting him a wish he would have never expected to come true, jaw hanging slack with anticipation, eyes blown out a deep black. He lapped you up. He didn’t wait for another word, didn’t waste another second. You gasped when you felt his mouth on your soaked warmth, now even warmer, now that he was breathing against you. Breathing deeply, breathing hotly. Whispering a low, throaty “Fuuck.” right into your pussy which muffled most of his noises, which absorbed all of them and made it her own. Which fluttered when he licked at your clit, mouth open so widely as though he couldn’t get enough of you. As though he would never taste you enough, never stuff himself enough with you, never be close enough to you. Mouth open so widely as though he wanted to inhale you whole, not only your sex, your clit, your wetness. You. To make you part of him, to make you connected to him through some sort of outer force.

It was when he kissed up and down your lips that you lost your heart a little. It was then when you noticed he was lost in his own pleasure. That he was kissing you because he wanted to kiss you. Not because he knew you liked it. Not solely. That he was making out with your pussy, mouth latching onto your labia, wandering up to the hood over your clit and down the puffy skin again to kiss near your slit because he was losing himself in you. Because he wasn’t even looking at you. Hyunjin’s eyes were closed, shut so tight the skin between his brows was wrinkled, his jaw trembling. His breath shaking against you. His deep grunts resonating somewhere deep inside your core. Depths only he ever reached. Only he was capable to.

When you moaned his name, called it out desperately and let it materialize in the room, letting it take space in the relative silence, he finally looked at you. Finally granted you his entire attention. Finally blessed you with the sight of him; eyes bloodshot, hooded, almost sleepy. Almost as if he had awoken from a trance. Hyunjin hummed in response, knowingly. Breathed you in deeper, licked a heavy stripe from your slit up. That was for you now. Now he was pushing your buttons, pushing them so knowingly, so aware it made you dizzy. He knew you, he chased your high with you.

His hand – big, warm, steady – pushed against your inner thigh, gently but you complied. You spread your legs further, granted Hyunjin more space. More space to make you feel good, more space to show love. He sucked at your clit, watching as you threw your head back. Smiling to no one but himself because he had expected it. Your legs twitched, your muscles spasming against your will, but you let them. Your right leg resting on the mattress lazily and Hyunjin played with it. Letting his fingers slide up and down your calf, always on the inner side, until he tickled at the underside of your knee, until you whined out and he knew to wander down with his fingers again. He caressed your ankle then. Scratching your skin with his nails, a little, slightly. Not enough to hurt, only to elicit wanted reaction; a hiss, a breath caught in your throat.

You hadn’t paid attention, so you didn’t know when exactly your foot touched Hyunjin’s erection, accidentally. You must have spread your legs just a little further – it was never enough, the pleasure he granted you intoxicating and you chased it with every nerve in your body, with everything you had in you – and you had only heard the heart-ripping moan from the man. So loud it scared you at first, before you understood, before you looked down at him, at his erection, at him again. Down his body, down his toned chest and tensed abdomen and at his erection again; you were able to see the wet patch on his boxers. The desperation in his eyes when you locked them again. He had put his own pleasure to the side for your own; and if he hadn’t lied to you about the pain, then he had been hurting for quite a while. Looking at you to just ease him off the pain. Any way you wanted to, any way possible, he didn’t care. As long as you eased him off it, as long as you freed him from the torment.

It was awkward, but you tried to get past his waistband with your toe. It must have tickled more than it did anything else because you caught Hyunjin’s skin shiver, the toned lines on his stomach protruding suddenly as the muscles there tightened. But he understood. Without breaking his lips off you, without even looking away from you – hungry eyes still following your every move, every expression in your face – he freed himself quickly with one hand, and your mouth filled with water you could barely keep behind your lips. You moaned out, too; simply at the sight of him, because he had shoved away his boxers so carelessly, because he was showing himself to you so readily, for you to take him with all you had. Even if it was pathetic. Even if he seemed desperate. Even if his precum was dripping down in thick beads onto your mattress, looking like a pearl necklace was adorning him. Hyunjin rolled his hips into nothing, searching for your touch when he saw the look in your eyes. The hunger there. When he saw how you bit your lip, how you cursed out.

“You’re not hard babe; you’re basically cumming.”

And Hyunjin hummed into your pussy, eyes closing, making him see stars, more even when you touched him. Delicate foot on his tip, and you didn’t even need to move; the man started chasing his high momentarily. He was so eager, grinding against the little contact of skin you granted him, but it was enough. And you knew he wouldn’t last long. His fingers dug into your thigh, his other feeling you up, feeling you everywhere, reaching to cup your breast above your shirt, higher up then when the lack of your skin disturbed him, when he found home on your neck, closed his palm around it softly.

You let your hand slide across his short hair, nails on his scalp at his touches. There wasn’t much to pull on anymore; Hyunjin had admitted that he missed the feeling, that the only downside to his new hairstyle was the fact you couldn’t tug at it anymore. He had admitted that he missed the pressure, the sting of pain. He had mumbled it into your neck while he’d been deep inside you, the very first day after he’d shaved it, after you’d confessed how good he looked. You had pulled him closer back then, had arched your back to connect your chest with his; Hyunjin had whined when your nails had dug into the sensitive skin of his scalp, and had kissed you feverishly after.

And he was now whining without control, too. Whining at the sting of pain, whining because he was so, so close, rolling and rolling himself against you, quick and quicker and with a body so tense, so shivering, so trembling. He was whining because he couldn’t get enough of your taste, of your scent, because as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Because he felt so, so good. But he wanted to watch you. He wanted to see your mouth while it breathed his name, while it fell slack before a scream ripped through it. Wanted to see how you threw your head back, how your body convulsed against him, back arching, thighs closing, your free hand finding the one he had on your throat. Because you needed something to hold on to. Because he knew you were so, so close. He felt you shake, your legs quiver, he heard his name out of your mouth a couple notes higher, a little breathier, a little more carnal. He loved it when you said his name like that. He loved how it sounded in your mouth, sensual, pleading. Sweet.

And he came. Without much warning, but with spasms, because he just couldn’t take it anymore. Not with how mindlessly your foot lay on his now softening cock, with how hard you were groping at him; not just his head, everywhere. How much closer you seemed to need him. He couldn’t help it with how you smelled, sweeter now that you were close and wetter, oh so wet, drowning his chin in your essence, and he didn’t bother to clean himself up. He let himself be wet; let his own release stick to his abdomen, let it trickle down to his hips, let his chin be wet with you, wettened it even more by pushing himself deeper into you, nose wet too now, lips long soaked, mouth so full of you he grunted deeply, lapped you up, sucked your clit; and he felt you cumming, too.

And he finally looked up at you, needed to see you. And the sight was heavenly, wishing he could look at you forever. When you were like this. When you moved like this. When you felt this good; felt this good because of him. Because of his mouth which drank you up, cleaned you, inhaled you. Your eyes in the back of your head, your face contracting, your jaw tightening so hard that it shivered, that your lips quivered with it. You were flush, your hair all over you; knowing you, Hyunjin was sure you wouldn’t like the sight of yourself, wouldn’t understand why he grew hard again simply watching you. Why his breath caught in his throat when you looked at him, lashes damp, lip spit-laced, and whispering your name because it was “Too much.”. Just because Hyunjin could never stop when he started. Because he never got enough of your taste, long after you finished. Because he always drove you over the edge a second, a third time, only until his jaw pained him, when his lips went numb. When his heart filled with you so much he swore he couldn’t take it; and yet swore greedily, swore selfishly, that it would never be enough. 

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @ppiri-bahng @cherrrywon @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @junebug032 @noellllslut @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

[hyvneluv]

railway (b.cc.) ༉‧₊˚.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TRACK 001: part of the step out series

synopsis: you didn’t mean to get tied up with your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, but sometimes all you can do is hold on tight for the rough ride ahead of you, even if it means going against all the pre-written rules of friendship.

tags: best friend's ex!bangchan x fem!reader, angst, forbidden romance, mutually toxic relationship, morally grey characters, chan and reader are both kind of awful, mention of other idols (rest of stray kids, stayc, enhypen, etc), oc as chan's ex-girlfriend (aeri), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, use of nicknames (baby, darling, etc), very brief pussy slapping, possessiveness, mild dacryphilia, car sex, fingering, sir kink, squirting, jealousy, slight exhibitionism, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (bitch, slut, etc), dirty talk, very brief mention of strength kink, mirror sex, breeding kink, creampie, brief choking, slight overstimulation, etc

theme board: www.pin.1003 / song link: prod:b.cc

wc: 7.85k

add. notes: welcome 2 the first course >:] i've offered my insights n analysis on railway alr but delving into the meaning of the song n creating a whole fic based off of it was very intriguing for me esp cus i don't usually write based off of music i listen to. i knew i wanted smth wrong to put out but i don't like infidelity n the usual story on toxic situations is tough to pull of so i decided to go down the more 'scandalous' route of sorts n make chan ur best friend's ex instead :3 there's a pinterest board i made for all these fics which for this one u can find linked above to grasp the aesthetics of it n i'd recommend reading this while listening to railway ofc. as always plz make sure u watch out for the tags n dni if ur a minor. also sidenote but aeri (the oc) is not meant to be seen as giselle from aespa but rather i just used that name bcs it's pretty lol just thought i'd lyk that. either way i hope u all enjoy! 

. . .

19:23 PM from: dni!!! Wyd? 

you swallow thickly at the sight of the text which lights up your screen, eyes zeroed in on the simple three letters which still hold thousands of words worth of meaning in themselves when combined. if it weren’t for the rubber case at the back, you reckon you would’ve dropped your phone with how instantly sweaty your palms become upon having received the message. the way you’re staring at your app, maybe even enough to bore holes into the words displayed back at you, doesn't go unnoticed either, and you barely manage to pocket the device as quick as you'd pulled it out just in time as your best friend approaches you. 

“everything okay? you look kinda pale.” aeri frowns once she’s in front of you, voice laced with concern so sweet that it almost makes bile rise up your throat as you attempt to lean back against jake’s kitchen counter to stabilise yourself. she doesn’t seem to buy the eventual shaky nodding of your head that you offer after realising she’d just asked you something that required an answer, but even if she wants to probe you further, she doesn’t, deciding to immerse you in conversation about something your other friends had told her; another one of her gossip sessions with yoon and jungwon, you presume.

her storytelling fades into background noise at some point, for you can’t ignore the heavy weight of the object tucked away in the back of your jeans, still incessantly burning and buzzing with notifications you know you shouldn’t pay half a mind to. you’re well aware that they’re all most likely from the same person; the one individual you shouldn’t and have no right to indulge and mix with to this day; whose bedsheets you’ve found yourself tangled up in late at night alongside dirty noises slipping past both your lips; the very man who remains as sin personified in the storyline of your current life, and honestly might stay that way for as long as you live.

or in other words, aeri’s ex-boyfriend, chan.

your best friend met chan in her final year of university, bumping into him on chance encounter outside her lecture hall and exchanging textbooks by accident. chan had been all smiles when she’d invited him to lunch as an apology for the mix up, often tagging along with her after that until soon enough, they grew close enough and began seeing each other romantically. he seemed to treat her well for the most part, and you were happy for aeri that she’d found a good man worth her time and effort in the world. she’d drag you with her on their outings one too many times, and you’d gotten to know him from those instances, finding him to be a decent match for her.

unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and the spark between them started dwindling. you’re not sure what exactly happened, only able to recall bits and pieces from what aeri had told you mid-sob on your calls about her previous lover slowly becoming distant nearing the final stages of their relationship, so you’ve always just thought it was a mutual decision to cut ties for the betterment of each other. according to her vividly detailed breakdowns though, chan had been the one to suggest calling it off first, and everything came to a screeching halt three years down the line with much screaming and tears from her side. to an extent, their split did shake up things a little between all your mutual friends, but it also didn’t fully stop everybody from engaging with each other. all this brings you to your current situation— waiting in jake’s apartment for the rest of your friends to arrive for a random party he’d decided to plan on a whim.

“yo, guys!” speak of the devil, you think, tugging yourself out of your thoughts as you turn your body to let jake’s figure come into view. he beams at you like a big puppy, his hair flopping in a way that loosely resembles dog ears, and you remember after a split second that that’s just how your friend is referred to as in your group; the resident golden retriever. he parades up to you and aeri as one too, his vibrant smile lighting up the atmosphere in a way that you can’t stop relief from flooding your system at his presence.

“how are my favourite girls doing this fine evening?” he smirks, his usual flirting the same as always, causing aeri to roll her eyes as you chuckle. “har har up yours, sim.” she sticks her tongue out, prompting jake to do the same as he ruffles her hair, to which she shrieks. “oh, by the way,” jake perks up as if he’s just thought of something, completely ignoring your best friend smacking him on the arm lightly over his actions. “y/n, would you be so kind as to get the pack of beer from my car?” he pleads, doe eyes twinkling under the light of the room. 

you’re about to groan in protest, not wanting to go back out in the cold and freeze your ass off for a measly few cans of alcohol, but the front door swinging open accompanied by the all too familiar voice you’ve grown acquainted to fills the air, making your stomach drop— chan. chan is here. suddenly, you’re not too opposed to getting far away, and you quickly nod your head rapidly in agreement, not bothering to wait for the way jake lights up at you accepting his proposal before snatching the keys from his hold and darting towards the lift. 

chan’s jaw tightens at this. he barely manages to catch a glimpse of you from how you rush out past him, not even able to take in your outfit or face in the dashing haze you leave in. he points his thumb to where you had exited, bluffing something about helping you when jake responds how you’d gone out to grab the load of drinks he’d been too lazy to heave upstairs himself. nobody makes any work to question him when he turns on his heel to catch the elevator himself, thinking nothing of his usual gentleman-like behaviour.

nobody except for a pair of eyes lingering on his disappearing frame that neither one of the visitors in the house manages to grasp onto.

meanwhile, you quickly find yourself in the outdoor parking lot of jake’s building, hugging your shivering body tightly in an effort to warm yourself up against the chilling wind that blows past the trees. the sky has basically turned dark by now, but the streetlamps hanging overhead on the sides of the pavement serve as enough illumination to carry out your task. your breath comes out in heavy smoke to the point you can see it, and you try your best to spot your friend’s car as soon as possible, cheering internally when you manage to do so. after having jogged on over to it, you enter the key into the trunk lock with trembling fingers, twisting it until that same latch you’ve grown used to feeling with your own vehicle opens and makes way for you to push up the boot lid. 

you’re about to hook underneath to manoeuvre it open, that is, until a sudden cold hand tugs on the bare skin of your arm, making you jump out of your own flesh. you open your mouth to yell out loud, ready to alert your friends a few floors upstairs that someone is trying to kidnap you potentially when that same hand clamps over it. only when your vision stabilises in your dimly lit surroundings do you recognise chan in front of you, and you feel your shoulders physically drop as you put down your defences, glaring at him when he removes himself.

“why the hell would you sneak up on me like that? i—“

“are you avoiding me?”

his question comes out gruff and annoyed, causing you to blink at the way he’s glowering at you in suspicion. his arms are crossed against his chest, hiding the black button-up you’ve seen him wearing and committed to memory one too many times from how it clings perfectly onto his chiselled shoulders and biceps. it makes you gulp, but you attempt to hide your affected reaction anyways, delivering a scoff in his direction which only makes chan grit his teeth at your attitude. “so what if i am? you know damn well either way without needing me to spell it out for you.” you bite back, moving to turn around when he catches you by the elbow, leaving you to scowl at him.

“what’s gotten into you? just a few days ago, we were fine, yet now you’re ignoring my texts?” he narrows his eyes, holding you in place so you can’t budge away from him. you let out a faint tch at his words, more so at your own susceptibility to succumb to his advances, but chan tongues the side of his cheek after assuming you’re just being blatantly disrespectful towards him. his voice drops to a lower, seductive tone as he speaks up again. “need me to remind you again? you came over last saturday and humped my thigh before squirting on my tong— hmph!“ 

“god, yes, i fucking remember, okay?” you exclaim in a whisper after having slapped a hand over his mouth this time, eyes darting around frantically to make sure no one heard that. “could you be any more louder? jesus christ.” chan peels you off of him shortly afterwards, his expression souring at the way you address him. something about the anger in his features makes your own rise, and you feel any or all remorse you'd experienced prior to seeing him in person today vanish, replaced with a bubbling hatred of sorts.

you and chan began your weird affiliation with one another around two months ago, exactly a few days after he and your best friend broke up. to this day, you don’t know why he made a move on you, much less why you yourself reciprocated it. sure, you’d always found him objectively attractive when he and aeri were together, and while he may be your exact match of an ideal type to a tee, you would never think to act on the growing tension you experienced for him, especially when he was in a long term commitment with the closest person in the world to you. 

it all happened in the most random of occurrences too. you still remember meeting him the night you were out at the convenience store to run errands, catching him hunched over a table in a hoodie and messy hair with two bottles of soju in front. he’d flashed you a polite smile and offered to drink together, which realistically, you should’ve declined. you should’ve turned the other way in disgust and walked out on him to tell your best friend what he’d attempted to do, regardless of whether that would’ve led to something or not. instead, you found yourself in his bed that day, moaning his name as he ravished you under the moonlight streaming through his curtains in your combined drunken craze.

the next morning had been full of hiccuped cries, chan cradling you in his arms despite the scalding touch of his hold gnashing against you and leaving metaphorical imprints that you would never be able to scrub off. each time he soothed you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair, you felt the waves of guilt wash over harsher than the last. he continued to reassure you throughout anyways, telling you it’d be okay and that no one would have to know. blindly, you’d believed him, promising yourself and him to never act on either of your arbitrary lust by not letting go of your inhibitions.

that was the first lie you told yourself. 

“y’know, i’m really not a fan of this whole backtalk towards me.” chan criticises, and you laugh bitterly after picking up on his audible disappointment as it hits your ears. “see? there it is again. maybe i’ve gotta teach you some manners, hm?” his tone is sultry once more, leaving you fighting the urge to flush under his gaze. you ultimately lose though, wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face with the way he snickers at your cheeks reddening crimson. instead, you try retain the little dignity you have left as you push against his chest, scanning your parameters with paranoia when he steps closer to you.

“we can’t.” you mumble, clearly slipping. chan’s only response to that is a breathless huff, warm against your face as you peer up at him through your lashes, finally getting a good look at him. he’s wearing his signature hoop earrings today, hair brushed down so his bangs fall over his forehead. the collar of that same dress shirt he’s got on is popped despite a few buttons being undone, leaving the styling choice to highlight his collarbone. that same milky skin you’ve ghosted your nails over multiple times hides underneath the black fabric, leaving you to shiver at the memories of it. it also doesn’t help that the way he towers you is sending your mind reeling into submission way too easily, and you only manage to shake out of it when his fingers trail down to wrap around your wrist, allowing you to feel the cold metal of a ring you recognise all too well press into your joint—

the same half of a promise ring you’d helped him pick out for aeri a year ago.

the realisation that he’s still wearing it hits, and combined with the once again forming shame in the back of your head, it all makes you want to shove him away in favour of storming out of here to tell your best friend everything once and for all. a part of you can sense undue jealousy simmering inside at the fact that he’s still got a piece of her with him too, something you know you have no right to feel, but you try ignore it to your best ability. “chan, we can’t.” you repeat with a hitch in your breath, more so for yourself than him. and yet, you don’t even believe your own words, finding the less rational and weak side of you surrendering to the temptation chan tantalises in you; it overshadows whatever morality you have left.

“d’you really want me to stop?” he breathes out, body sagging far too close into yours for it to be friendly, although you suppose none of your interactions since starting this scandalous relationship have ever been that. his fingers, the very same ones bearing the ring on them, move to wrap around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head up and lock eyes with him. goosebumps prick your skin when you catch sight of the way his gaze is hooded, orbs swirling with black desire he’s begun to reserve only for you in these coming weeks. “because, if you want me to stop, i will.” chan points out. “say the word and i’ll turn around. out of sight, out of mind.” he makes a statement out of it by retracting his hand from you, but the very distinct whine you let out is all the confirmation he needs to press his mouth to yours.

kissing chan always feels like playing with fire. it scorches, and singes, and sears, reducing you to a burnt crisp, yet you can’t help but yearn for the flame he ignites in you. even the way he’s clutching onto you now, pressing forward with a fervour only you bring out in him, has his lips moulding against your cherry stained ones despite not fitting as perfectly as you’d want them to. the two of you are by no means a compatible match for each other; neither of you has made a single good decision ever since you began indulging in whatever you’ve got going on, but you also can’t help but crave the scandalous nature of everything. you’re truly a despicable pair, you think.

“get in the car.” chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts when he pulls away. he doesn’t even give you time to think when he walks over and opens the door, gesturing inside to the warm confines of the backseat. ideally, you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but alas, you’ve never been one to listen to yourself, instead finding your legs scrambling and following suit to shuffle into jake’s vehicle before the weight of your actions even sinks in. chan’s hot on your trail too, and before you can even get comfortable in the cramped space, he’s returning to making out with you, fingers roaming greedily around the expanse of your skin. 

“t-they’ll know we’re gone.” you stutter, moving your face out of his reach to try and stop chan’s movements when it finally dawns on you that your friends had sent you out on an errand you’d taken far too long to complete by now. chan’s only response is to grunt though, tugging you back in for another smouldering kiss that knocks the wind out of your lungs. his hands grasp, pinch, and squeeze whatever part of you they can, until he’s finally decided that he’s had enough foreplay, opting to cage you underneath him and hike up the tight, red dress that’s adorning your body for today’s occasion. “i’ll be quick. i always am.” he winks, and you’re too far gone now to understand that he’s responding to your previous comment, a fact that only makes him chuckle.

“wore this to tease me, yeah?” chan clicks his tongue at the way he has to practically peel off the bottom half of your clothing, the snug fit of the fabric around your curves leaving nothing to the imagination as he bites his lip. he debates whether he’s glad you chose this outfit to show off for him, or if that pisses him off because it means everybody gets an eyeful of your figure; he decides on the latter. “wanted to slut yourself out for my attention? all you had to do was ask, baby.” you shake your head with a whimper, and he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “d-didn’t.. didn’t wear it for you.” you manage to breathe out, which proves to be the wrong answer because next thing you know, his hand is coming down to smack your clothed core.

you yelp at the sting of his actions, teary eyes blinking up at him in a way that makes chan’s boxers tighten. he’s so close to losing his composure, but he holds back for your sake, not wanting to let you see his cool slip. “is that so? i guess you’re just a dirty girl then.” he sneers, yanking down your soaked panties in one swift motion, leaving you to gasp as the cool air hits your sticky folds.

chan wastes not even one second, knobby digits dragging through the wetness he’s not surprised to find whatsoever. he spreads it over your clit, getting you messier than you already are, especially from the way you appear to leak even more arousal from his movements. he touches you until you’re twitching under his hold, biting back the sounds that threaten to escape you, which seems to be a fact he doesn’t approve of from the way he pinches your nub between his fingers; you cry out softly from the rush of stimulation it shoots through you. “eyes on me.” chan growls, sliding his hand down to circle your oozing hole before he’s abruptly shoving two fingers inside.

“fuck.” you moan this time, loud and clear. this seems to satisfy him, seeing as he rewards you with a steady pump of his digits thrusting into your heat. his speed in fingering you increases quickly, and it isn’t long before he’s scissoring you open, the sloppy sounds of your juices slicking up his fingers and echoing in the stuffy space of jake’s car. you’re probably staining the leather of the seats, but neither you nor chan seem to care about that right now, not when he’s knuckle deep inside your wet cunt and you’re making such pretty noises all for him.

“just filthy, aren’t ya? getting finger fucked in the back of your friends car. i bet your dumb little brain can’t even understand what i’m saying right now.” chan mocks, his tone laced with a level of condescension that only makes you buck your hips up to chase his movements. you know he’s completely right too, because the way he’s thrusting his digits inside you, stroking your warm walls with the tips of them has you seeing stars to the point you can’t even respond back something snarky in return. “all you’re good for is being a nasty toy for sir’s use, hm?” you barely even register his question, only remembering you need to answer him when he pulls his wet hand away to smack you once more, this time over your swollen bundle of nerves.

“y-yes, sir. only a toy for you. jus’ you.” you mindlessly slur out, and chan groans at that. not even a moment passes before he’s sinking his fingers back inside you, curling them up to massage that rough spot which always has you clenching down on him. his expression twists to a smug one when you jerk forward instantly. bingo, he thinks. “that’s that spot there, yeah? the one that has you losing yourself on me?” he coos, but his voice drips with a smidge of venom you can’t quite fixate on just yet. instead, you nod dumbly, spasming around him as you try grind upwards to chase the rising sensation of your climax. 

chan leans into your frame, one hand splayed flat onto jake’s backseat above your head to maintain his balance whilst his body hovers over you. by now, your eyes are clenched shut, but he can’t even find it in him to get mad at you over that, not when you’re dribbling down his wrist and mewling so pretty under the glow of the night as he works you towards your orgasm. “c’mon, baby. cum f’me. wanna see you cum so pretty for sir.” he encourages, jaw locked with concentration. 

it only takes about one or two flicks of his expertly trained thumb pressing on your puffy clit, combined with the pads of his fingers hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy, before you’re shuddering through your climax. a small, clear stream of liquid sprays out the sides of where he’s got you plugged up, and he pulls his hand away in favour of rubbing you over to coax out the last remnants of your high. your quivering body thrashes when he tries to draw out the remaining few droplets again, weakly bringing your arm up to push him away gently when the shocks of overstimulation begin to take over. chan dips down to place one, final kiss on your lips, smooching down to your chin as a way to say you did well. his actions make you heart beat out of your chest, but you don’t say anything about the domesticity of them. 

you wonder if he ever treated aeri like this after having been intimate with her.

“go in first. i’ll clean up the car.” chan clears his throat after a short while, not daring to make eye contact with you as he quietly pulls your underwear back up your legs. you watch in silence while he sits up, looking for a rag to fix the mess you two made when that same awkward air you’ve gotten used to facing with him enters the atmosphere, leaving you to try and ignore how it tugs at the strings of your soul as you give a curt nod. “don’t forget the beer.” you remind him before swinging the door open to step outside, finding yourself back in the nipping cold of the winter night.

you try and stand on your wobbly legs to straighten out the creases of your dress, paying no mind to the way your skin echoes with the ghost of chan’s previous touch. behind you, you can hear him rolling down the windows to let the musky smell of sex out of jake’s backseat, and you almost dare to sneak a glance back until deciding against it, knowing it’ll just hurt more. instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, opening them to land on the small balcony of your friend’s apartment where the rest of your group seems to have already gathered from the silhouettes you can see through the foggy glass. your conscience feels heavy with the weight of the knowledge that aeri is up there too, but you brush it off, just like all the other times you have.

i didn’t do anything wrong, you tell yourself, i’m still in the clear. that’s the second lie you’ve tried to believe in these last two months. a long sigh escapes your lips at that realisation, but you bite it down when making your way back inside the building, choosing to rack your brain on what shitty excuse you’ll have to provide this time for being gone so long.

. . .

to your surprise, nobody bothers to question why either you or chan disappeared, simply whisking you back in conversation about unrelated topics when you walk in through the door a few minutes before him. as per usual, your heart still feels heavy when you watch aeri laugh at something heeseung and sieun are arguing over, but you cover it up by letting out a noise of amusement yourself, hoping it throws off any suspicion that might be directed your way. you don’t bother turning your head upon hearing jake’s delight at the sight of chan entering his apartment with the very much requested pack of beer too, deciding to force a smile at whatever point heeseung is busy making over looking back no matter how much your body itches to do so.

it’s even worse how from the corner of your eye, you can see aeri shifting uncomfortably on her feet at her ex-boyfriend’s second arrival, her expression dropping in the slightest so as to not draw attention to herself, but it’s still enough for you to notice. it only makes the weight of your actions dawn on you further, and you can’t help but let your mind wander as to what she’d say if she knew what truly went on behind closed doors. despite your best efforts to bury those thoughts beneath you though, you know there’s nothing you can do to make amends to the problems you’ve created yourself. after all, you’ve got to reap what you sow.

the party continues to kick in on full swing after that, with you and aeri both doing your best to keep your distances from chan for all too different reasons. it doesn’t help that you can feel someone’s stare raking across your figure throughout the duration of the evening, and when you finally do decide to sneak a glance in that direction with expectations of finding chan ogling you over, you’re met with a different answer—

for it isn’t you he’s busy looking at, but rather your best friend that’s been glued to your side since the beginning of the night. 

he averts his gaze as quick as he’d cast it when you catch him, seamlessly blending back in discussion with whatever nonsense changbin is rambling about this time, acting like he hadn’t just been getting an eyeful of his ex-girlfriend moments prior. you also don’t miss how he fiddles with the old ring that adorns his right hand, long fingers twisting it around the middle digit in a way that’s reminiscent of his past behaviour, or at least based on what you’d often find him doing back then. 

his actions spark a memory deep from the confines of your brain, one you wish you hadn’t remembered as the vision of chan asking you to help pick out promise rings for him and aeri crosses your mind. it was raining heavily that day, but he’d insisted that the two of you go out in secret anyways so he could buy his then girlfriend a token of his love and appreciation. he’d claimed you knew her taste the best and could therefore help in selecting a better possible gift for their upcoming anniversary than he ever could. 

you’d hesitantly agreed, and although you weren’t sure how it would all play out, you later found yourself sharing an umbrella and visiting various jewellery stores to point out all the designs you knew your closest friend would adore. chan had settled soon on a matching pair for the two of them, beaming in your direction with a bright smile that left you weak in the knees despite however much you tried to hide it. a few days later, aeri excitedly showed off her own silver band to you, buzzing about how he’d chosen the perfect present that she couldn’t wait to replace with a real one in their future; you couldn’t help then but think if he ever told her it was all your idea instead of his.

“hey, can you hold my phone?” your best friend’s voice cuts through your inner replay, and you blink in a daze to find her facing you, expression innocent. “hyunjin asked to play beer pong, and i don’t have any pockets to put it away in safely.” she explains at your confused face, but all you can do is nod as you robotically outstretch your arm to take it off of her. unfortunately or fortunately, that’s when you notice it—

the same matching ring on her hand.

aeri doesn’t pay you any attention when she drops off her device into your awaiting palm, not even realising you’re zeroed in on the jewellery that decorates her left hand with a fire burning in your eyes that you’re both ignorant of. you don’t stop gaping even when felix shakes your shoulder, asking you what you’re so fixated on before leaving you be under the impression that you’re probably just drunk out of your head. meanwhile, you’re still frozen in place, everything around you seeming to slow down.

why is chan wearing a ring he bought for his ex-girlfriend two years ago to a party he knows she’s going to be at? no, why does said ex-girlfriend also have her matching pair of the ring on her hand at a party she too is aware he’s going to be present for? much less, why are either of them hung up on each other to the point they’re carrying around reminders of their past relationship with one another? you know the answer to all these questions, but you don’t wish to sit and delve into them in fear you might throw up at the conclusion they’ll give you. instead, all you can do is squeeze the can of seltzer you’d spiked in your hand dangerously tight out of unwanted emotion, enough for some of the liquid inside to spill out. you can’t be bothered to care about it though, just like how you can’t be bothered to care about how anybody in their right mind could probably see you gawking at chan right now.

you watch as he cracks up at a joke seungmin makes, his head falling back in a fit of laughter you’ve been a happy witness or recipient of multiple times, yet this time it fills you with emotion that you don’t wish to identify in fear it’d mean something more than what you’re capable of confronting right now. even so, you can’t stop the train of questions invading your thoughts at the view in front of you. did he laugh like that with aeri? smile so wide with her? couldn’t help the joy that spread across due to her presence? maybe that’s why he came today, because he couldn’t take his mind off of her, especially seeing as he was wearing a symbol of their time spent before right now. 

but, what does that say about you in this picture? were you just a scapegoat to escape all those feelings for him? had you been one this entire time, only deluding yourself into thinking what you both had translated into a situation deeper and could potentially progress into one even more had things happened under different circumstances? the more you think, the more you feel nauseous, and you can’t stop yourself from diverting your gaze to where your best friend is, observing her concentrated face as she attempts to aim a ping pong ball into one of the lined up solo cups. your eyes involuntarily flicker to the ring on her finger once more, its evident shimmer reflecting in the light causing you to clutch your drink tighter. 

you’re not a jealous person by any means. you know your boundaries, hence you know chan isn’t yours. he isn’t an object you can own, and neither are you to him. that was the unspoken agreement you both nodded on when you got into this entire ordeal— you’re both free to see other people openly in front of aeri as long as it’s not each other, because the latter you manage in secret despite the shame that surges in you two upon doing so. it doesn’t matter if you wish to stake your claim on him, to see the marks you leave on him evident on his skin the next morning for him to show off other girls who think they stand a chance at him taking them to bed. it doesn’t matter how much your heart aches when you wake up to the blanket strewn aside from his absence, the sheets long gone cold to indicate that he’d left hours ago. it doesn’t matter how much you wish to cling onto his arm in public and profess your.. feelings for him in front of everyone else.

it simply doesn’t matter, it never did. chan’s never been yours, and he never will be anytime soon.

20:51 PM from: Myself meet me at the upstairs bathroom in five

you punch in the message before you can even think, watching it turn from delivered to read in a matter of seconds. the three dots next to chan’s side of texts appear, indicating that he’s typing, but you choose to lock your device rather than waiting like a dog to see him reply. instead, your feet lead you to your designated location, taking one step at a time leisurely as opposed to in a rush so as to not draw unwanted attention to yourself. right as you reach the door handle, your phone pings with a familiar ringtone.

20:52 PM from: dni!!! Reacted with “👍🏻” to your message

you sigh. tonight was going to be a long night.

. . .

skin slapping. heavy panting. low grunting. 

that’s all you can hear from where you’re splayed across the sink in the small confines of jake’s bathroom, aside from the occasional thumping of music booming from downstairs. if you strain your ear enough, you’ll be able to make out the lyrics to the cliche song that’s come up on shuffle, but you honestly lack the mentality to care about that right now, especially considering the way chan has your legs pushed apart in favour of drilling his length into you. each thrust is rapid and fervent in nature, seeming to knock the wind out of your lungs to the point you don’t even realise how loud you’re being until his hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth. “be fucking quiet.” he sneers, leaving you to drool everywhere. the only reaction he spares when you try muffle out an apology is a sickening smirk at that too. 

“needed this, didn’t you, slut? always need to be filled with some cock like a bitch in heat.” chan chuckles, but there’s a dark edge to his voice that sends shivers crawling up your spine. he presses down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers, and you can’t stop the garbling of spit choking past your lips from the way his thickness nestles deep inside you. each heavy drag of his dick against your rough walls leaves you clenching and attempting to buck your hips forward, but you can’t even manage that with the grip he has on your waist. the mere idea that all chan really needs to restrain you is the simple strength of his one hand sends your mind reeling, so much so that you don’t even realise he’s speaking to you until the hand that was previously in your mouth pulls out to slap light and wet against your cheek.

“i asked you a question, whore.” chan growls, the sound resonating warm within your stomach despite the mean undertone to it as his movements still. you blink up at him in confusion at this point, doe eyes brimming with tears that threaten to spill from the loss of pleasure in a way that has chan damn near finishing. it doesn’t help that he’s buried to the hilt currently, hissing painfully at how you squeeze down on him in involuntary instinct. for a split second, you swear you see the ridges on his face soften, and the manner in which he looms over you feels filled with more comfort than intimidation, but that smidge of emotion vanishes as soon as it arrives. “i said,” chan’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “do you wanna get caught?” you rapidly shake your head no at that, and chan cocks his head to the side.

“oh, really?” he muses, nails sliding over to dig into the supple flesh of your thigh, making you whine out loud. “‘cause with the way you’re making so much noise like that, i’d have assumed the opposite.” with a click of his tongue, his actions resume. luckily, all that escapes you is a loud gasp this time, an anxious clamp of your palm over your mouth barely covering up the rest of your lewdity. you wish so desperately to refute, to plead him in favour of slowing down and having some mercy, but the sensation of his bulbous cockhead slamming roughly into that one spot only sends stars in your vision and prevents your previous desires. 

your body jerks in chan’s hold even more when his same hand still lubed with your saliva finds it way between where you’re connected, leaving you to suppress a pathetic whimper that longs to bubble out of your throat as he presses the tips of his fingers to your swollen clit. his touch is harsh, filled with an overwhelming need to make you burst at the seams, but the fear that lingers in the back of your head refuses to let you fall apart so easily, not when aeri is barely a flight of stairs from your vicinity. chan decides he isn’t fond of the silence you’re giving him though, pulling out with a quiet mumble for you to get down and face the mirror. he sheaths himself back in just as quickly, setting an unforgiving pace from the seemingly more accessible position, and this time, you really can’t stop the long drawn out moan that escapes you. 

“j-just like that, yeah, baby? all those filthy noises are just for me, aren’t they?” he sounds more delirious this time, presumably drunk off the essence of this situation from the possessive gibberish he’s spouting, just like he always does in the heat of the moment. unfortunately for you, you’re no better than him, nodding furiously in agreement as you babble high-pitched and breathy. “so good, sir! s-so, so fucking good, feels so good! wan’ cum f’you, p-please. ‘m a good girl, please lemme cum, please, please, please.” small stutters spew out of you mid-sentence, but neither of you can be bothered by them, too wrapped up in the throes of all-consuming passion and contempt even to register what’s being said. 

“such a nasty, nasty girl.. getting fucked by your best friend’s ex. don’t you feel a-any shame?” chan groans almost wearily in midst of his lust-filled haze, eyes catching yours from the reflection of the mirror that’s displaying you getting absolutely wrecked right now. the sight of you so fucked up and in bliss, no coherent thought visible by the looks of your dazed expression and tongue halfway lolling out— it all has him burning with hot, rampant hunger. hunger for you, hunger to claim you. “look at yourself.” he rasps, fingers clutching at your chin to force you into meeting where he is. “look how dirty you are, fuck. what would she say about you wrapped so warm and snug around my cock? hm? think we should— ah. think we should call her in and find out?” 

the tears that were brewing in your waterline are streaming down your face by now, horrifically mimicking the disgusting manner in your wetness seeping and dripping down chan’s balls. you feel awful. downright terrible and tainted, forever branded by the searing touch of chan’s skin grazing against yours because that’s what you are, that’s what you have been for the past two months. down from the night you let him lead you into his sheets, following the countless occasions you found yourself returning there, and finally falling to now, your underwear strewn across the tiles of jake’s bathroom as you spread your legs for the same man who broke your best friend’s heart; the same man who you’ve let into yours after very consciously disregarding the repercussions of your actions. 

you’re truly a loathsome piece of work.

“think she’d like to watch me fill this pussy up? watch me shoot my load deep inside you over and over again until i’m sure it’s taken?” chan mutters, hot breath fanning against your sweaty neck. “maybe i should breed this stupid cunt full of my seed and send you back out there with it spilling past your legs. that way, every time you sit down, you’ll feel it inside you.” the mental image of his release lodged in your walls as you’re surrounded by all your friends, surrounded by the one person you’ve both been hiding from, all of them oblivious to the way he’s staked his claim on you except for the shared knowledge between you two and you two only— it has you quivering to the point you physically keen in his hold. chan, however, just laughs sadistically at your reaction. 

“you’ll feel it as a reminder of me, yeah? a reminder that you’re just as terrible as me. coming to me to get this slutty cunt stuffed even though you know you shouldn’t.” he continues to whisper. “after all, it takes two to tango, darling.” chan makes it a point to tilt his hips up in an effort to ensure his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with precise force, all the while breathlessly uttering more sickening words in your ear in hopes of fulfilling your need for relief. 

surely enough, the combination of his cock shoving itself past your opening and his guilt-inducing remarks that only make you sob harder work you up to the point of no return. all it really takes after that is one touch of his thumb to your pulsating nub to eventually have you seizing up in no time, your pussy messily tightening and gushing as your high crashes over you in large waves of ecstasy. it seems to trigger him too, because by the time you even realise you’re there, chan’s twitching and leaking spurts of thick cum inside you. there’s so much of it that it trickles past where he’s got you plugged up, and you barely comprehend yourself pushing a hand near your oozing hole to catch it on your fingertips. 

you both come to slowly, ragged breathing that fills the air growing quieter to pair with the musk of the room. chan’s gaze is still trained on you through the mirror, unreadable just like always whenever you’ve made the same mistake again, but you take the opportunity in this instance specifically to raise the hand that’s collected his seed in it to your mouth, proceeding to lick up the droplets of his excess release. even though you don’t catch his stare in the reflection, you can still feel it burning holes through your head, a fact that only leaves goosebumps rising over your skin. it’s only when you pull your hand away once more to catch the last of his remaining cum that he decides to finally interject, grabbing your palm in his coarse one with hooded eyes. they’re blown out when he tugs your back flush into his chest, the impact leaving his length pushing deeper inside, and they’re blown out when his fingers wrap around your neck to give it a slight squeeze, the little loss of oxygen making your mind spin.

“you think that’s funny? teasing me even after i just fucked you? after i left my mark on you and made sure you know that you’re mine?” chan murmurs, lips sultrily ghosting the shell of your ear. you want to fixate on what he’d addressed you as, let it marinate in your thoughts and brood over it for the next weeks to come even if it was just an absentminded slip of the mouth, but your focus is interrupted by the moving of his hips against yours picking up once more. the previously repeated actions send his dick driving into you again, breaching your cervix and pressing deliciously into every nook and cranny in a way that has you nearly losing your footing, but chan is quicker to hold you up with his free hand. “w-wait, ‘m still sensitive.” you manage to tremble out at a particularly well-placed graze of his cock, but chan doesn’t seem to care, grinding into you even more eagerly at your admission to the point you struggle to keep the sounds spilling out you at bay.

there’s a resounding knock on the door all of a sudden, one that makes your breath hitch and your chest twist in uneasiness. some part of you feels wary and on edge, and you would assume chan’s movements would halt at that, but he doesn’t show any signs of stopping, ignoring your frantic attempts to make him do so by holding you in place instead as he begins to pick up the pace. “s-stop, we’ll get caught.” you heave out upon the noise of skin slapping rising in volume. you do your best to stand your ground, to avoid the gradual closing of your eyes and the mushy fog of your brain clouding over in euphoria, but it’s to no avail. you’re about to let go of your inhibitions completely, to forget about what had just happened and throw caution into the wind in order to lose yourself in the moment, until—

“y/n, i know you’re in there with chris.”

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

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[hyvneluv]

hyunjin's interlude | super bored chapter 5

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader | word count: 11.4k | genre: romance | warnings: angst (heavy) ; heartbreak ; depression ; mild themes of jealousy ; distance between lovers ; explicit sexual and adult content. reader discretion is always advised as this work contains themes that might be sensitive to some.

He thought about it, about those words he dreaded so much, words he hadn’t had the chance to taste on his tongue yet. All this time they had remained buried in his chest but not like the treasure they ought to be, rather like a nuclear biohazard, slowly contaminating their surroundings.  “I miss someone.”

Hyunjin was cold when he met Camille. 

Linguistics is a funny thing but it only becomes apparent as one acquires fluency in a second or third language. Before French, Hyunjin had never really paid much attention to the way he expressed the fact that the weather was chilly and how it affected his physical body. Back home, he would have said, simply, 추워요 or maybe 나 추워 or just 춥네. In any case, whatever he would have said could have been translated literally to I am cold, just like one would say in English. I am cold, or It is cold. 

It’s quite different in French. In French, one would say, J’ai froid. I have cold. Not as in I have a cold,  or it is cold, no. Not even I am cold. I have cold. And now that Hyunjin knew this, he rarely thought that he was cold anymore. It no longer suited him, it was no longer enough to convey the way he felt, for he felt like he had the cold within him, like a mind-numbing chill had made a home out of his body. Like he was carrying it with him everywhere he went.

That cold was the reason he went to the Jardin in the first place, and why he was so desperate to find blue hydrangeas somewhere. Anywhere. Just to look at them. To touch them perhaps, feel them under his fingertips. To remember how it felt to touch you. To forget what it was like to have winter as a permanent resident of his heart, even for just a few minutes. 

He saw her, Camille, after spending a solid hour walking aimlessly in this vast and beautiful garden. He was supposed to hand out his assignment in just a few days and hadn’t even started it. It was not the first time it happened, but the worst of it had been the year before when things were so bad that his father felt compelled to act like a father again, which said much about the gravity of the situation. 

He had met with Hyunjin in his chaotic apartment, finding his son in a state of apathy so deep that he immediately called his office to take time off work, no matter how much Hyunjin insisted it wasn’t necessary. But he couldn’t remember the last time he ate a real meal or slept for more than two or three hours at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been truly happy.

Or rather, he remembered it a little too much.

» Read the full chapter on ao3. (you do not need an account to access it, just click the link!)

Hey, long time no see with our frog boy, hasn’t it? 

It was a conscious decision on my part to keep this “chapter” hidden away—not because I did not want to share it, rather because I was afraid the final chapter would be too little, that the events in it would not be enough to please my beloved readers. So I thought, well then I’ll simply put Hyunjin’s Interlude at the beginning of it, to make it worthwhile. But as certain emotions evolved and as time passed, I realized I was putting too much pressure on myself, and more importantly I realized that I needed this interlude to come out. Because it contains feelings that were enclosed in my heart, prisoners of this terrible cage. And I just needed them out.

So now they are out. 

I am terribly sorry if this means this interlude and the final chapter that will ensue won’t be enough. But I hope you know I poured all of my heart into it, which is the only way I know how to write. 

Thank you to my readers who wait so patiently after updates. Thank you to my readers who somehow trust me, who support me, who care about me. There are many times when my head is full of darkness and often in these times I remember the kindness that you guys show me. This love that you give me. I want to keep working hard so that I one day deserve that love. I am so grateful. Thank you for accepting me despite my mistakes, my flaws, thank you for giving my words a purpose. I am very emotional as I release this short chapter. 

Thank you to those who take the time to reach out to me—or to the authors that you love. You guys keep this place alive. You keep my passion alive when there are so many things trying to kill it.

May you all have a lovely 2025. I hope life is kind to you. I hope your lives become soft, gentle, and hydrangea blue. 

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[hyvneluv]

Gonna go drink and eat maraschino cherries now and rot and wait for pt2

maraschino cherries | i only see you part one.

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader | word count: 25.8k | genre: romance, exes to lovers | warnings: angst ; breakup ; heartbreak ; jealousy and themes of cheating and overall bad relationships ; regret and guilt ; mutual pining ; forced proximity ; mentions of depression/low mental health ; hurt/comfort ; reunions | this chapter contains adult and sexual content as well as strong language but no major warnings apply. this work is a direct sequel to the one-shot just stay with me that i released two years ago~

You knew things weren’t great but you would never have imagined it would come to this. Maybe, somewhere, you still held the hope that things would work out. That Hyunjin loved you the way you loved him, which was to say, enough to try.

“I can’t believe you did this to me, Min. I know we went through a lot you and I but I thought we were friends.”

Minho let out an exasperated sigh. “We are friends!” He looked behind his shoulder as the newly arrived guests made their way in, bringing with them a cool breeze from outside. “Calm down, please. I had no intention to cause a scene. It’s just that he called, and then we had a conversation and I mentioned the cabin and it felt weird not to invite him. Besides, I just figured it was about time that you guys talked.” 

You raised your eyebrows, cocking your head to the side as the shock settled in. “That’s deeply fucked up, do you even realize that? Deeply.  Since when are you a couple mediator? Is that your new business idea? I see it. An office with large windows and a massive sign on the front with the name of your agency on it.” You motioned at the empty space before you as though you were showing a very real sign from a very real building. “Conci-Lee-Ation.”  

Minho scowled at you, pursing his lips. “See, that’s your problem. It’s not that you can’t move on from things. It’s that you don’t want to.”  

Minho’s words reached you much like a blade would cut you open. You stood before him with your mouth agape, silenced, wordless, the sour taste of betrayal invading your throat. His expression softened as soon as he saw the tears pricking at your eyes—he clicked his tongue, letting out a long, tired exhale. “I’m sorry—” he started, but you cut him off.  

“Don’t,” you managed, your bottom lip quivering. But you would rather lie down in the huge living room fireplace than let Minho or anybody else see you cry. “I should be the one apologizing, right? So let me. I am so, so, so sorry Minho for being irrational like this during a situation that is totally normal and not unpleasant at all. I apologize for being upset that you invited my ex to spend the weekend with us without giving me a heads-up.”

You were doing your best to keep your voice as low as possible so as not to be heard but you were becoming aware of a few heads turning in your direction. In the other room, near the front door, Changbin and Jisung were welcoming Hyunjin and Felix inside, and Hyunjin was pretending very hard that he hadn’t noticed you. You figured that the others might even believe his acting but you knew him better than they did. 

“Look—” Minho started, reaching for you. 

You recoiled, avoiding the hand that was trying to squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me, Lee Minho. I’m gonna go get this brain fog out of my head and then I’m leaving.”   

You walked away before Minho could even say anything. To avoid the crowd, you went out by the small hallway at the back. There was a door at the end of it, leading to some sort of patio furnished with snowed-in chairs and a functional hot tub.

You didn’t like speaking in absolutes so you wouldn’t say that being here tonight was the worst idea you ever had but it was certainly somewhere in the top three.

It seemed almost like a genuine Christmas tradition by now—you, standing somewhere outside in the dark, freezing your ass off there instead of letting anyone see you cry. 

The first occurrence of this lovely festive activity had been on that Christmas escapade organized,  that time also, by Minho—just a weekend at a cabin in the mountains for the employees of his restaurant. Oh, and you had cried quite a lot that first night. As though something about the holidays made your heart a little bit more vulnerable.

You hadn’t fully processed your breakup with Minho before that night, causing your emotions to go overboard. It wasn’t even that you had still been in love with him because you weren’t. It was just that he had moved on so easily and you were still at the same place in your life. It was just that he had recently gotten engaged to his very pretty girlfriend and you were still very much alone.

Last year had been even worse. It had been, really, the beginning of the end. Stupid arguments over insignificant things. And then it was about significant things. You told Hyunjin he was being unfair, that it was selfish of him not to let you help him. He did not like that. It made him cry. You spent an entire hour crying on your own, sitting on the stairs of the building, outside in the cold. It took two days before he spoke to you again, and what he said was, You don’t understand how I feel so you can’t help me. You’re there for me and I love you.

It was the last time he said it. I love you. Ironically, the breakup had been on Valentine’s Day.

The pain had followed you through the year. A year of ups and downs, emphasis on the downs. You earned your life well, your apartment was decent. You even had a social life. Or rather, you forced yourself to have one. Maybe so as not to worry anybody. Maybe because you wanted to remember what it was like to feel whole.

But it just felt as though nothing really mattered anymore. Nothing had been the same since.

Well. Except for the fact that one whole year later, you were once again hiding outside, the frigid winds covering the sound of your cries.

It started so well. Hyunjin and you. It had been on a night much like this one that you had come to realize you had special feelings for him. Feelings that had crossed the friendship line a while back, only, you couldn’t see it until Hyunjin announced his departure from the restaurant. It had seemed like the end of the world at the time. You couldn’t imagine your daily life without him—who would stay late with you and sweep the floors while listening to soothing music and discussing various topics? Who would come up with stupid jokes to lighten the mood on your bad days? Who would have your back when the restaurant was too busy and your section was more than you could handle? 

Who would put extra maraschino cherries in your drinks just to make you smile? 

It started so well. Perhaps too well. You skipped the ‘going on dates’ stage, jumping headfirst into this relationship because both of you believed in it and had strong feelings for the other. You didn’t doubt that. But, turns out, feelings are in no way a guarantee of success in a relationship. 

Hyunjin did leave his bartender position at Minho’s restaurant to open his own bar. A small, intimate establishment where great drinks were served. It was an instant success, mostly due to the warm, welcoming ambiance of the bar. The crowd was as diversified as it could be—on any given evening, the bar—called Nightcap—could be filled with people in work meetings, groups of friends playing board games, dates, family reunions, birthdays… Anyone, really. Hyunjin was proud of his bar and you were proud of him. 

You helped him as much as he’d let you, which wasn’t that much. He said he didn’t want it to become your burden and you respected that. You could tell he needed to achieve certain things on his own so that he could be at peace with it. And it was fine. 

Somewhere between that first night with him and just a few weeks later when you woke up one morning with your heart particularly full, you fell in love with Hyunjin. You woke him up to tell him so, even, leading to an entire day of passionate lovemaking with food deliveries in between rounds. 

Things were good for a while. Until they weren’t. You also left your job at the restaurant to work full-time at Nightcap and working with Hyunjin was amazing. Until it wasn’t. 

The worst part is that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t even yours. It just happened. He dedicated himself day and night to start his business and even if his plan was solid and he got help from Minho and a few other friends, a new business was a new business. At the end of his first financial trimester, Hyunjin was so shocked by the bar’s losses that he was unable to keep food down for an entire week. His anxiety levels were so high during that period that you didn’t recognize him—he was cold, distant, and even inconsiderate. 

But of course you could understand that, and it didn’t make you love him any less. 

You made Hyunjin lower your salary in the hopes that his losses would be less disastrous a few months later. To compensate, you decided to use your baking skills to make some money on the side. You found a bakery that hired—the two owners, a married couple, were close to retirement and they were looking to find good employees for when it would be time to pass the bakery along to a buyer who wished to run it. They liked you a lot and it was reciprocated, so they trusted you quickly and a lot. In the end, you became responsible for the bakery several days a week. 

You loved it but it was a lot. You’d finish your shift at Nightcap sometimes well past three to help Hyunjin close up and you would take an hour-long nap in the backroom before making your way to the bakery where you often worked until two or three in the afternoon. 

Anybody with a drop of insight would have seen it coming. But, maybe, love blinded you. Or maybe you were just too foolish. 

It was lovely. Being Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Test-tasting his signature drinks. Having him come up behind you and embrace you just so he could whisper sweet nothings into your ear. He bought you flowers. He test-tasted your cakes. He put extra maraschino cherries in your drinks, even if it was just a soda. He tried to make it all work—the crazy hours, the stress, the pressure, your relationship. 

It was amazing. Being Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Until it wasn’t.

And, months later, you found yourself hiding outside to cry in the cold. You didn’t want anybody to see your pain, your shame. You didn’t want anybody to see all of the space Hyunjin used to occupy within you because then they would know where all of your emptiness came from. 

You didn’t like speaking in absolutes but maybe, after all, coming here this weekend was the worst idea you ever had.

You swallowed your sobs when you heard a door open and close nearby. Oh no. Someone had noticed your absence—you quickly wiped your tears as well as you could, hoping the cold wind would reduce the flush on your face.

It was Jisung. You sighed in relief, glad it wasn’t Minho—how could he do this to you? It was one thing for two exes to have the same friend group, but it was another to invite Hyunjin without letting you know about it.

Jisung made his way to you, carrying an extra hoodie. “Hey.” He handed the hoodie to you, pulling the hood over his head to protect himself from the wind. “Come back, yeah?” 

You took a deep breath, looking away, staring at the scenery. The cabin Minho had rented this time around was even bigger than the first had been. Located deep in the mountains and surrounded by them, it offered a stunning view no matter where you looked. It was snowing heavily, hindering your sight, but even in the night, you could see the snow-covered evergreens and the white mountaintops. You had loved it just earlier. And now all that you wanted to do was to run away.

“I just need a minute,” you told Jisung, wrapping yourself into the hoodie he brought. It smelled like Changbin and you could only assume it was his. “You can go back inside, Ji.”

Jisung shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ll stay if that’s alright.” He mirrored you, leaning on the fence surrounding the patio. “I didn’t know he was going to be there. I would have told you.”

“I know you would have.” Out of everyone here, Jisung was the one who probably understood you the most. He, too, would have bitter memories of the other winter reunion, because it was then that he and Min-seo started dating. She left him after admitting she had cheated on him. Safe to say she was no longer a part of this friend group, but you could tell Jisung was still hurt. “I’m gonna leave. I’ll come back on Sunday to get you.” You two drove here together. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jisung admitted, clicking his tongue. “Felix and Hyu—” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “They said they barely made it here and that they were closing the roads behind them due to a blizzard. You would probably not make it very far. It took them almost two hours just to get from the village down the mountain to here.” 

You didn’t take that news well—it brought more tears to your eyes. You took a deep breath but exhaled it as a shaky sob. Despite the wind, Jisung caught it. He opened his arms and hugged you, holding you tight. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ll be alright. Look at the place Minho rented!” He spun on his heels so that you faced the cabin despite hugging. “It’s huge! There’s gotta be enough space for both of you in there.” 

You figured you could just spend the entire weekend locked in your room and sneak out at night to get food or something. This way you wouldn’t see Hyunjin. At most you would hear his voice, and that would be painful enough.

You wished, so badly, that you didn’t care—everything would be easier. Because if you did that. If you hid away, if you avoided Hyunjin, he would know how affected you still were. And you were ashamed of that. You didn’t want him to know. You didn’t want him to know the impact his absence had on you, the toll it had taken on you.

As much as you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. Right? 

You didn’t want to hurt him.

But you wanted him to think you did not give a single fuck about the breakup. 

So you took a deep breath and nodded gently, prompting Jisung to pull away from you. “Let’s go back inside please, I’m freezing.”

He dragged you back toward the door without waiting, talking about dinner plans. It had been decided that tomorrow, Minho and you were supposed to cook the Christmas dinner, so naturally Jisung had a few requests of his personal favorites. You were almost certain he was making a point of being dramatic about it to distract you and you appreciated him even more for it.

You stopped him before he could turn the door handle. “Ji, is it really obvious that I cried?” For some reason, asking this question gave you a sense of deja vu.

He looked at you using the light filtering from inside to make his judgment. “Not too much. Hey, listen. It’s not by avoiding him forever that you’ll heal from it. Maybe facing that heartbreak is what you need.” 

The deja vu hit you even harder, making you lightheaded for a few seconds.

He was right and you hated that he was right. You said nothing, choosing to just follow him inside, immediately relieved from the cold by the ambient warmth of the cabin. You took a deep breath. Then another. 

The truth was that you just hadn’t seen Hyunjin at all since the breakup and you had no idea how you would react when you found yourself face to face with him. Maybe you would become enraged. Maybe you would freeze and lose your words. Maybe you would break down in tears like an idiot. 

Jisung was right. Avoiding Hyunjin would not heal the wound he left behind. But what he didn’t know—and what you were too ashamed to admit to Jisung—was that nothing ever would. You had let Hyunjin take all of this space inside you and now he was gone and you were empty. And it was not the kind of empty that could be replaced. It was not the kind of hollow that could be replenished. It would stay like that, preserved, unchanged.

You took off the hoodie—after just a few instants in the snowfall outside, it was completely drenched. You returned to the living room, your gaze fixated somewhere between the ground and one meter above it, no higher, avoiding any eye contact. The main floor consisted of one big room—the kitchen and living room were only separated by a half wall. 

You weren’t stupid. You noticed the voices quieting down as you entered but paid them no mind. Or rather you tried to look like you didn’t care and made your way near the fireplace where a few pieces of clothing and boots were already drying on the wall beside it. The cabin was completely quiet by the time you were done executing that simple motion and you could feel people’s eyes burning the back of your head. 

Felix called out your name first. You heard genuine joy in his voice but something else too—it was obvious he was trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s been too long!” 

You spun on your heels to face him. He hadn’t changed really—Felix was always Felix. Radiant and kind. He pulled you into a friendly hug which forced a faint smile on your lips despite how troubled you were. “Hey, Felix.” You tried very hard not to look behind him. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. How have you been?”

“Ah, pretty much the same.” He shrugged. “I sell office spaces and commercial buildings, exactly like I used to.” Felix had a chuckle. “Business is good though so I don’t complain. What about you?” 

You opened your mouth to respond but the words got stuck somewhere along the way, gnawing at your throat like disembodied hands. In a moment of weakness, you allowed your eyes to scan the room, and you saw him.

He’d been wearing a beanie and his thick winter jacket when they first came in and you did run away in literally less than a second, but Hyunjin, unlike Felix, had changed. Considerably. For a few seconds you couldn’t even breathe, stupefied by the mere fact that you were in the same room as him once again. You couldn’t look away from him.

And it seemed that he, too, couldn’t look away from you.

He sported much longer hair than he did the last time you saw him. It fell loosely, framing his face in a messy yet ravishing and controlled manner. He was just as handsome as he had always been. His big, brown eyes observed you from head to toe, his front teeth sinking into his plush bottom lip, showing his evident hesitation. He seemed skinnier than you remembered him and yet his sweater hugged his body at just the right places, displaying newly acquired muscle mass. You could only guess that he had become gym buddies with Changbin—you wouldn’t know. Apart from Ji and Minho, you didn’t really keep up super well with the guys from the restaurant.

But he had deep dark circles under his eyes and his energy was different than it had been. His lips bore the marks of his constant chewing at them, much like his nails and the skin around them. 

You had wondered, all this time, how it would feel when you would see Hyunjin again. Now you had your response.

It felt exactly like the day he broke up with you. Time had not soothed the pain—the sharp pieces of your broken heart pierced you from within as your forces abandoned you. You were bleeding out again. 

You gulped, your breathing suddenly shallow. Seeing Hyunjin again felt much like standing outside in a blizzard.

Felix’s facial expression became concerned and you wondered what you looked like exactly. Your pulse quickened dangerously when Hyunjin pushed himself up to come your way, followed by everyone’s gaze. Once again, the room became quiet. 

When Felix noticed Hyunjin, he offered you a flat smile, squeezed your shoulder, and walked away to return with the others, making sure to speak in an unnaturally loud voice. You panicked internally, watching, unable to move as Hyunjin approached. Was your vision blurry because of tears or because of sheer terror? God, you couldn’t let him see you cry. You just couldn’t. Not after all that had happened. 

You heard his voice when you turned away. Much like Felix, he simply called out your name, but his voice was quiet, soft, brittle. “Wait, please,” he added when he noticed you were still looking away but weren’t moving. “Can we like… talk?” 

He was standing next to you now, you could tell. You didn’t need to see to know—you could smell him, his complex cologne, his personal scent, the musky, unique smell of his shampoo. You knew he was right there because you could feel warmth emanating from his body. He had always been a walking furnace, after all. 

You inhaled shakily and, finally, you faced him. 

You could have collapsed from it alone but somehow managed to stay on your feet. You wanted to look everywhere at once. You wanted to try and read his eyes. You wanted to look at the beauty marks adorning his skin. You wanted to get hypnotized by the texture of his lips, just like you used to. 

He flinched too, almost dropping the beer he was holding. When he came to his senses, he glanced around the room, motioning at the hallway from which you came. “Can we? Talk?” 

With a nod, you walked into the private space, your heart beating at an uneven pace, making you feel as though you were on the verge of a heart attack. Your insides were cold, turned to ice, but your skin was hot, feverish, your cheeks burning. You made a point of only stopping at the far end of the hallway where the lighting was as dim as it could be. He couldn’t see you cry. He couldn’t see you blush. He couldn’t know. You did not want him to see the wounds he inflicted upon you. 

But when you two came to a stop, only silence reigned. You looked through the window in the door—in just a few minutes, the snow had erased your and Jisung’s footprints. You could barely see a few meters away from how thick the blizzard was. 

He couldn’t know.

So you tried your best to look like you had your shit together. “What did you want to tell me?” 

Hyunjin jumped, almost like he was surprised that you asked him a question. “What?” The shadows from the curtains covered half of his face, making it difficult to read him. 

“You said you wanted to talk,” you reminded him impatiently. This conversation needed to be as succinct as it could be. You estimated at about two, perhaps three minutes the time you had left before tears would inevitably roll down your cheeks. “So what did you want to talk about?” 

You had your guesses, all of them worse than the last. Maybe he wanted to flex some accomplishment to prove something to you. Maybe he wanted to tell you about a forgotten item at his apartment. Maybe he wanted to tell you he was getting engaged to Haley. 

The thought of that alone pulled all the air from your lungs—you pretended to clear your throat to help it pass. 

Hyunjin gulped. “It’s been so long. I just wanted to know how you’re doing.” 

He couldn’t know.

Everybody has a weakness, right? You hadn’t been certain about yours before meeting Hyunjin and especially before dating him. Because then you had found out it was almost impossible for you to lie to him. He said it had always been the case, even revealing that he had been able to read your mood swings long before he confessed. 

So he would definitely see right through you when you would force a smile on your face and tell him things were good and what about him, how’s the bar, everything?

“You still at the bakery?” he went on when the only response he got was silence.

You nodded. “Yeah. Were you able to secure the loan you wanted? For the renovations?” For months, Hyunjin had worked very hard to get a start-up loan for new businesses granted by the government. There was some work to be done in the building and he needed it.

A dark veil clouded his gaze. He drank from his beer as though to let a few seconds pass. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.” He drank again. 

You let out a non-committal hm hm, unable to find an appropriate reaction. You were happy for him in a way. In a way, you didn’t wish him any harm. His well-being took nothing away from you. 

He looked tired, sure—but you remembered Minho’s first two years with the restaurant and he had that same look. A new business was much like a newborn baby, after all. Hyunjin seemed fatigued but you couldn’t see traces of sorrow on him. Maybe it was because it was dark, but he looked like he was just fine. Like he was over it.

Over you.

He could not know. That you were nowhere near over him. ‘Over him’ wasn’t even a different country—it was a whole other continent across the globe.

“Good for you man,” you heard yourself say and it sounded wrong. Good for you man. What kind of response was that?

“Yeah.” He stood there in the darkness, facing you, sometimes looking at the snow outside and other times letting his gaze linger on you. 

He used to tell you that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He used to tell you that you were his favorite person. He used to tell you that he loved your scent. Your taste. He used to tell you that he loved you.

“Has construction begun?” you inquired but you didn’t really want to know. You were looking for a way to end this conversation politely. “Are you adding a new section?” 

Again. “Yeah.” It was a flat yeah. It told you everything you needed to know, really. He wanted to talk to you because he, maybe, felt bad or something. He hadn’t been a great boyfriend at the end but he wasn’t a monster. It must be obvious how miserable you were and he felt bad that he, on the contrary, was just fine. You could only imagine he felt some sort of guilt.

“Where were those?” you asked, motioning at his beer, unable to bear it any longer. You would collapse under the weight of this conversation. “I could use a beer too.”

“Oh, Felix and I brought them. They’re in the fridge. Help yourself, ange—” He stopped before the end of his sentence, frozen in place, his mouth still agape, only able to stop the word from spilling out too late. He covered his lips like he couldn’t believe it.

Meanwhile, you battled the storm within you. Tears pricked at your eyes while waves—no, a tsunami—of memories washed over you. You wished, almost, that it was the bad memories that came back. It would make it so much easier. But it wasn’t. It was all of the good ones. It was the first time he kissed you. It was the first time he bought you flowers. It was the time he took you on an impromptu trip to the beach. 

It was all of the times he called you his angel. 

Hyunjin tried to apologize, becoming a stuttering mess, but you heard none of it—you were far away already, dashing up the stairs to your left before he could see your tears.

He couldn’t know. You didn’t want him to know. That he had made a barren place out of your heart. That you still dreamed about him sometimes and that it didn’t matter if it was a good dream or not. Either it was a nightmare in which you relived the breakup or sometimes even where he was dead, or it was a lovely dream in which he still loved you. The latter made waking up one of the most painful things you ever did. 

He couldn’t know how much you missed him.

Ten months ago 

You groaned when you heard your ringtone from the other room, trying not to lose focus as you put the finishing touches on the bottom part of the two-tiered cake you were working on. 

“Want me to get it for you?” Eric asked as he was busy with paperwork at the moment, sitting on a stool not far from yours. The cake-decorating apparatus took up almost all of the space on the work table, leaving him just a tiny corner. 

You completed the fine tracing of the flower you were drawing in pink icing before looking up. “It’s fine, I’ll check it out later. I’m almost done anyway.”

“I knew it was a good idea to put you in charge of the decoration. That cake is gorgeous,” Eric pointed out with a smile. “I bet that woman will have the best Valentine’s Day.” 

Eric was the son of the bakery’s owners—while they had decided it was time for them to retire, they didn’t want to sell the bakery to just about anybody. Eric, a self-employed accountant, had taken over most of the management to allow his parents some rest without having to give away the business they had worked so hard for all of their lives. You liked him—Eric was pragmatic and understanding, which he got from his parents who were two lovely people. He knew you worked hard at Nightcap too, and often forced you to take naps in the breakroom if he noticed you were tired. 

“Bet she will,” you responded, finding nothing else to say. You remembered her boyfriend who came in last week to order the cake. He had admitted to you he would propose to her on Valentine’s Day. 

Your plans for Valentine’s Day? Work, work, and more work. Most definitely not getting engaged.

Life used to be so much easier. It hadn’t always been simple at the restaurant but it had been somewhere you were comfortable at. You worked crazy hours and it never really mattered, it never took a toll on you. You could be exhausted and functional at once. Maybe, because you were never as exhausted as you were now. 

You sighed, grabbing a few more leaf-shaped pieces of fondant to adorn the roses you had applied earlier. Life used to be much easier but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, would you? Because it meant you had Hyunjin. It meant you were with him, that the both of you formed a team. You believed in his project and his vision and you wanted to do everything possible to help him make it last. There was nothing you wanted more than his success. 

But, by god, you were so fucking tired. Your only plans after this cake, which was the last of your Valentine’s Day orders, was to go home, take a boiling hot bubble bath and then pass out in bed for as long as possible. Eric had given you tomorrow off—while the bakery would be busy, his mom had come in today exceptionally to do some prep for tomorrow, allowing you some time to rest. That wouldn’t last very long though—there was a Valentine’s event organized at Nightcap, and naturally, you’d go help out over there.

At least it meant you would spend the evening with your boyfriend. 

It wasn’t what it used to be. You were afraid to admit it even to yourself but it was true. You couldn’t even remember the last time both of you had enough energy—or will—to fuck. 

It wasn’t easy for Hyunjin. He had high standards for himself, which meant he perceived any setback, minor or major, as an absolute failure. He was tense and often depressed. It put a lot of pressure on his shoulders and he did not share any of it with you. He seemed resolute to carry that burden all on his own. 

At that thought, your eyes filled up with tears. You grabbed a few random utensils on the table and went to the sink to rinse them just to make sure Eric wouldn’t see. 

Only, it was too late.

“Leave that, I’ll do the dishes…” Eric appeared behind you, his soothing voice accompanied by an equally soothing hand on the small of your back. He tried nudging you away but you didn’t let him. “Go home. You need sleep.” 

You held the batter-covered spatulas under the warm water, your gaze fixed on them, working very hard on zoning out. On purpose. These days, pretending that the outside world didn’t exist was the only way you could feel peace or at least a semblance of it. Your phone went off again but you ignored it.

There were too many thoughts in your head—it was impossible to make sense of them, but all of them revolved around the same thing.

Hyunjin. And how he was pushing you away, slowly but decidedly. A little more every day. Like he was actively trying to find ways to keep you at a distance. You knew him. You knew when he was worried or when he was sad or when he was angry. Sometimes he was all of those at the same time, but he wouldn’t let you comfort him. On his bad days, you barely recognized him. He was short-tempered and barely spoke to you, choosing to quarantine himself some place you were not.

At first, you just told yourself he wasn’t perfectly comfortable with you, maybe. You could understand that—the relationship had moved quickly, perhaps a little too fast. Not everyone is used to just displaying their deepest emotions to others, not when it was about something as significant as Hyunjin’s projects. You gave him space so that he could learn how to process these big emotions on his own, figuring that you would simply dive in when the right moment came.

But the right moment never came. 

What made it so hard was the fact that Hyunjin used to be an excellent partner when it wasn’t about Nightcap. He was romantic and showered you with kind gestures. He was vocal about his love for you and supported you in your own endeavors as well as he could. So you tried to keep the relationship working—a storm did not mean the sun would never be out again. You loved him and you wanted to be with him. At any cost.

The wall he was building between the two of you was getting higher and higher. Your calloused hands were sore from climbing and your arms could barely support you anymore. Sooner rather than later, you would fall back before you could even have a peek at the other side of it. 

Eric’s voice brought you back to the present moment. “That’s enough now,” he simply said, reaching for the utensils you were holding. They weren’t even under the water anymore—it was your hand that had been there instead. It took a few seconds for the pain to reach you, your skin darkening where the water had burned you.

He did not give you a choice—Eric wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you back to the worktable, forcing you to sit down while he searched a freezer for some ice. Once it was applied to your hand, he took care of carefully packaging the cake and storing it in the walk-in as you stared through the large windows at the front. Life was happening out there, as normal. You just felt like you were outside of it. 

“You’re taking the week off,” Eric said with an accusatory tone when he came back. “And do not argue. I’m not hearing it,” he added when you turned to him to protest. “If you come back here before your time off is over, I’ll fire you on the spot.”

You wanted to cry then, not minding that he would witness it, only the tears didn’t come. You absorbed the sorrow back and a little more of it just became a part of your DNA. 

“Eric—” you started, your voice foreign. 

“You gotta talk to him,” Eric cut you off. “You have to. You’re not seeing it through my eyes—if you did, you would be appalled.” 

Something ugly emerged in your belly—heavy and hard like lead but colder than the ice that was melting on your hand. “You’re right,” you replied, pushing yourself up. “I’m not seeing it through your eyes. I’m seeing it through mine. Because it’s my fucking life, not yours.” 

You regretted it as soon as you spoke—it was then that the tears made their appearance. In less than two seconds, Eric’s arms were wrapped around you and he was pulling you into a tight hug, patting you gently. Your attempt at resisting him was weak and you found your face buried in the crook of his neck, embracing him back, holding onto him like you were afraid to fall. 

“I’m s—sorry,” you stuttered between sobs. “Eric, I’m so sorry, I’m just…”

He shushed you. “You’re fine. Just breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths. Yes, like that.” He sighed, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear. “He’s hurting you. Can’t you tell?” 

The sob that spilled from your lips was heart-wrenching—you closed your fists tighter around his shirt, more of your warm tears rolling down his neck. 

“It’s just that I’m useless, Eric.” You tried to breathe deeply as he advised, but only a little oxygen made it to your lungs. “There’s nothing I can do to help him. I love him. I love him so much. I think—no, I know—he’s the love of my life. But all I do is make things worse.”

Eric clicked his tongue, pulling away to look you in the eyes. “That isn’t true. And if it’s true, it isn’t on you. It’s not your fault he’s shutting himself off.”

“But it is,” you insisted, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “If I were a better girlfriend, I could do more, you know? I would know what to do, I would make him happy again.”

Eric’s silence hurt you more than anything he could have told you. He just stared at you with a saddened expression, finding no words to comfort you, or perhaps knowing you weren’t ready to hear the truth. 

What you said was also the truth, though. Hyunjin hated it when you were trying to comfort him. He would say that he felt like a burden, like a responsibility. You didn’t see the problem with that. He wasn’t a burden per se—but you had no problem with feeling a sense of responsibility when it came to his happiness. You wanted to do things to make his life better. It wasn’t a chore. It was just… love.

But he hated it. So you had learned how to conceal those attempts at comfort. You had to pretend and give him a succinct response if he told you about something that worried him. Then you had to wait. Sometimes you’d surprise him with some of his favorite foods, other times you called a few friends so that they would come over. It didn’t matter. It just needed to look like you weren’t actively trying to help him.

And now you couldn’t help but feel like he was also resenting you for not helping him. 

Maybe you were falling already. Maybe you had been falling for a long time and you just couldn’t see.

“I’ll drive you home,” Eric decided. And the truth was that you had no energy left in you to resist him, so you let him grab your bag, your jacket, and your phone and you let him drag you to his car after he carefully closed the shop. 

The car ride was completely silent—he turned off the radio as soon as he started the car. The night was cold but not windy and you rested your head against the cool glass of the window just to feel something. 

“I have a few colleagues that could help,” Eric said out of nowhere. He was a few years older than you and you knew he had a large network of acquaintances. “There’s Jake, I told you about Jake. His uncle owns a bar, you know?” You remembered vaguely. “He works for his uncle, but I’m sure he’d be more than happy to step in for a couple of days. You could go somewhere. Just you and Hyunjin.” 

The idea was pleasant in theory but you knew better. You wouldn’t become a better girlfriend just because you were in another place. If anything, it would all make it worse. He would be upset that you’d even suggest such a thing. He would never leave his bar to someone he didn’t know, not for a weekend, not even for an hour.

You used to think he was ashamed. But you knew better. 

It was just that you failed him. 

Eric stopped his car in front of your building. You were still trying to find something to tell him but nothing came to mind. Instead, you gave him a nod and you got out of the car, not even looking back as you made your way toward the entrance, searching your bag for your keys while you waited for the elevator. As you did so, the screen of your phone lit up when you accidentally brushed it. 

The wallpaper was a picture of Hyunjin and you. A selfie that he took some time last year when things were still good. You couldn’t recognize the girl in the picture. She was you only you weren’t her. Not anymore. 

You had two missed calls—the time matched the ringtones you heard while at the bakery. Both calls were from Hyunjin, but he didn’t leave a voicemail.

The apartment was quiet when you entered. You moved in with him soon after you began dating him, head over heels happy to spend as much time as possible with the man you loved. His apartment was more spacious so it just made sense for you to move in here. 

It took a few seconds for you to realize the shower was running. So Hyunjin was home, only he hadn’t turned any of the lights on when he came in. Everything was dark and still. 

Exhausted from your day and from crying, you went to the bedroom, waiting for him to get out of the shower so that you could shower too—

—and you woke up later. It took you a few seconds to understand that you had fallen asleep in the first place, most likely due to your extreme fatigue.

It was still dark outside and everything was as quiet as it had been when you came home. The same knot was still in your throat too. You closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath, extending your arm to reach the other side of the bed, fully expecting Hyunjin to be asleep next to you.

But your hand touched nothing except the cool blanket. 

You sat upright, looking around the bedroom, looking for him. He had been home after all—you had just fallen asleep while he was in the shower. About a million voices in your head started to whisper things you didn’t want to hear but you couldn’t tune them out. Maybe he came back home to shower just so he could go out again after and go fuck that waitress he hired some time ago. The one who was always after him. The one who was openly flirting with him. He kept denying it, he kept saying you were projecting.

Not really knowing what to do, you left the bedroom to check the bathroom just in case, but it was empty. So you made your way to the living room instead. And it was where you found him.

The TV was playing at a low volume, displaying the anime that Hyunjin was watching to fall asleep these days. He was laying on the couch, motionless, his chest rising and sinking slowly to the rhythm of his breathing. You felt relief and pain at once. He wasn’t out fucking that girl. But he had chosen to sleep here instead of by your side.

You swallowed your pride and lowered yourself next to the couch, giving his face a gentle caress. Hyunjin hummed in his sleep, frowning but not waking up. This time, you cupped his cheek and tugged a strand of his silky hair behind his ear. God, he was stunning. It seemed like it had been so long since you could observe him like that. He didn’t seem quite at peace, not even in his sleep, but it was better than nothing. 

You pulled yourself closer to Hyunjin and kissed his sleepy lips, just pressing your mouth onto his. He let out the familiar groan he usually did when he woke up. 

“You’ll rest better if you sleep in the bed,” you whispered, but he didn’t move. 

A scowl appeared on your brows. “Baby?” 

He shifted in his ‘sleep’, rolling with his back facing you. Only you could swear he was just pretending to sleep. It sounded crazy, it sounded insane, and it was very much unlike him, and yet you couldn’t see it any other way.

That reality was just too painful to process so you walked away, giving Hyunjin the space that he wanted but was too embarrassed to ask for with words. You didn’t cry, even if you wanted to. You went to take a shower, washing the day away, scrubbing your body vigorously as though it would make you into a new person. But it didn’t. When you turned the water off, you were still you. Just you. You were still the girl Hyunjin was avoiding. 

You lay awake in bed for several hours that night, waiting to see if Hyunjin would get up any time soon, even just to get a glass of water in the kitchen. You stared at your ceiling, your heart heavy with the memory of the sweet taste of maraschino cherries. To you, today, they just tasted like Hyunjin’s love, and you craved it more than you could say.

You dozed off without realizing you did but when you woke up, Hyunjin was gone.

You spent your entire Valentine’s Day worrying. Under normal circumstances, you would have picked up your phone to text Hyunjin and ask where he was. You even knew which response to expect—he would tell you that he was at the bar, getting everything ready for tonight’s event. But you didn’t. Not immediately at least. There was a wound on your heart and it was a little too raw to poke at it just yet. 

Instead you kept yourself busy for a few hours by deep cleaning the entire apartment. The washing machine ran non-stop until sometime around two in the afternoon. By then, your entire body was sore from all the housework done but you had finally figured out what you were going to text Hyunjin. 

You: hey! ♥ happy valentine’s day baby. are you at the bar?

Hyunjin: you too angel. yes setting everything up for later

The response was a little dry but you swallowed your tears and your pride, determined to make things right somehow. If he ever let you.

You: I figured! I’ll be right there. want me to pick up some takeout on the way there? anything you want, it’s on me!

Hyunjin: you don’t need to come. felix is here and most of the staff 

He literally did not want you there. He did not want you anywhere near him. No matter how obvious it was—and for how long it had been—you just couldn’t make sense of it, not really. Or maybe some part of your brain refused to process it to spare you, only it did not feel like being spared. It did not matter if you realized it in small increments or all at once. The end result was the same. 

He did not love you anymore.

And you didn’t know what to do about that. You hadn’t thought it was possible. You hadn’t imagined it would ever happen. If you were honest—and admitting this even just to yourself was difficult—when Hyunjin and you became a thing, you never imagined how it would end. You never envisioned the termination of it because it did not feel like there would be one. And that had been absurd, obviously. You could see that now. It had even been borderline cocky—that was not the kind of confidence you ever displayed before. To assume someone would love you until the end of times or whatever. Not that every day would be sunshine and unicorns and rainbows, but that it was the kind of love that would overcome the dark days.

How conceited, presumptuous of you.

Now that the truth was catching up with you though, you found yourself humbled the fuck down. 

You did something stupid but it was the only thing you could think to do at the moment—you searched your nightstand to find the leftover painkillers they had prescribed you last year when you sprained your ankle and struggled with physical therapy. You had one left, which you kept in case you injured yourself or something. Today seemed like a perfect occasion to put yourself into a coma of sorts. You washed down the pill with a shot of your favorite whiskey and buried yourself under your covers, staining the pillow with your tears, crying yourself to sleep. 

It was dark when you woke up. You were getting tired of waking up at night with your heart broken in more and more pieces but you pushed yourself up and made yourself shower. Then you did your hair and even put on a little bit of mascara. The truth was that you just wanted to see him. You wanted him to kiss you. You never wanted to forget what it felt like. To be kissed by him. To be loved by Hyunjin. 

The party was going strong at Nightcap. Hyunjin had organized a few games—you had even helped come up with them. The one you worked on the most was the free drink game. Single people could sign up and a number was assigned to them, as well as one free drink ticket. An entire section of the bar was reserved for them where they could meet new people. When someone was interested in another, they could go to the bar and use their free drink ticket to give to that other person. The thing is—the free drink would only be given if two people submitted each other for it. Of course, people could cheat if they wanted but it was their loss. The drink was one glass of Love Potion, a drink designed by Hyunjin several months ago, especially for tonight. Prosecco and cherry vodka on the rocks with a lime-flavored sweet and salty rim. Served with maraschino cherries. 

Because he said that it was with those that he made you fall in love with him.

You remembered his smile as he told you that. You remembered his lips too, stained with the cherry juice from testing different versions of his drink.

Life used to be so good. 

Jay—the apprentice bartender—was mixing up a few drinks, on his own behind the bar. You found it unusual for Hyunjin to leave the young man alone on such a busy night, but he didn’t show up, not even after waiting a few minutes. Yet you had seen his car in the parking lot so you knew he was here. Somewhere. 

Felix was in the bar’s tiny kitchen, doing some preparations. Nightcap didn’t serve meals per se but did offer appetizers and other snacks. He saluted you warmly, as he always did, but he couldn’t tell you where Hyunjin was. “I mean he said he was gonna get more limes at the back to slice but that was a while ago,” he said. “Is he not here?” 

No, he was not. 

In hindsight, you probably should have gone home at that moment. Or maybe not, depending on how you looked at it. But instead you thanked Felix and, ignoring the lump in your throat, crossed the kitchen to make your way toward the back. A short hallway separated the kitchen and the storage room, where an emergency exit was also located. You shivered when you passed the old door, feeling the cold breeze from outside through it. 

You were rehearsing in your head what you thought you would tell Hyunjin when you heard a familiar voice coming from the storage room.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, I’m here for you, Hyune.” It was Haley speaking to him, a waitress. A really pretty waitress who seemed to really really really enjoy working for your boyfriend. “You’re an amazing man. You deserve better than a cheater.”

Your heart halted but so did your feet—you came to an abrupt stop just before you entered the room, a hand over your mouth to cover the sound of the gasp you just let out. A cheater? Was she talking about you? 

A cheater?

HYUNE?

You knew what was happening and yet you couldn’t believe it. You stretched your neck—just a little—to get a peek inside of the room. Hyunjin was right next to the large commercial fridge where you knew he kept the limes. Haley stood before him, very close to him. She was touching him, too, squeezing his shoulder and then letting her hand travel down to his arm, caressing him. Feeling him up.

Just about a million thoughts hit your brain at the same time but it was only a few that you could hear clearly. You knew Hyunjin had no enjoyment in his relationship with you anymore. That was one thing. But to call you a cheater and then hide with his waitress to let her coddle him? Seduce him, even? What kind of nerve did he have?

Was he this unhappy with you? That he would make up stories about cheating, perhaps to alleviate his own guilt? That had to be it, right? He was projecting. He was projecting because he wanted to fuck Haley—if he hadn’t already. He would sometimes tell you that you were the one projecting but now you could tell this whole thing was just a big, messy projecting inception.

You knew things weren’t great but you would never have imagined it would come to this. Maybe, somewhere, you still held the hope that things would work out. That Hyunjin loved you the way you loved him, which was to say, enough to try.

The hit was violent. It felt a lot like you had been kicked in the chest. Or like Hyunjin himself had cut you open to crush your heart with his bare hands. 

What happened next was even worse. You bit into the hand still covering your mouth so as not to be heard when Haley pulled Hyunjin by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. 

You looked away because the sight was too much. Because it felt like you would die if you saw more of it. You took a feeble step toward the emergency exit, your legs trembling just as much as the rest of your body. 

You heard Hyunjin’s voice coming from inside the room. “What the fuck?” There were a few noises, like fabrics brushing and footsteps. You couldn’t comprehend his intonation. You couldn’t tell if he was shocked or if he was, perhaps, denying how badly he wanted it. He said something else but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your pulse and the high-pitched ringing that echoed in your ear. 

Haley sounded displeased when she replied to him, and yet honey coated her voice. “You can pretend all you want but I see the way you look at me,” she said with a joyless chuckle. “Don’t you think about me when you touch yourself? My body, my tits? I saw you checking me out.” There was a pause during which you leaned against the wall behind you or else you might just collapse. “Tell me, Hyune, do you think about me when you fuck her?” 

You had heard enough and yet you barely controlled your body when you ran away, pushing the emergency door to put as much distance as you could between you and this fucking place and Hyunjin and that girl. You couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard you tried to force oxygen into your lungs. The February air was cold and ruthless but you recognized the signs of a panic attack, knowing what was to come if you didn’t snap out of it. 

You found your phone in your purse but you didn’t even know who to call. The only person you really wanted to be with was Hyunjin. But he wanted otherwise. You had failed him so spectacularly that he… that he…

As you scrolled through your contacts, you realized how alone you were without him. Ironically, it was Minho’s name that popped into your mind. But it was Valentine’s Day after all and he would either be with his wife or at the restaurant, or perhaps both. In any case, there was no way a call from his ex would be welcome. Eric would be busy too, but maybe you could call Jisung. But to tell him what? What was there even to say? 

You heard the door you had just come out from open again and it was closed just a few seconds after. You were on the other corner of the building, hiding there while you regained your senses if you ever would. 

“Baby? Angel? Is that you?” 

Hyunjin.

You realized he must have heard the door. In your urgency to get the fuck away from this place, you hadn’t really bothered with being quiet. 

Angel. How could he allow this word on his tongue after what he did? After he kissed that girl with it? 

It took a few seconds for your feet to obey your brain but you didn’t make it very far before Hyunjin caught up with you. Neither of you was wearing even a jacket—you had left your winter coat on a hook in the kitchen with everyone else’s, but you couldn’t even process the cold. Not the one outside, anyway.

He looked like he didn’t know why you were here. Not really here at the bar but here, behind it, running away, wildly underdressed. He also looked like he knew very well what was going on. 

“Oh my god,” he sighed when he made it to you. “Come inside, you’ll freeze. Are you okay?”

He tried to grab your hand but you dodged him. Hyunjin’s facial expression darkened—he opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. 

Part of you wanted to leave now, digest it all, and have a talk tomorrow, or even later tonight. But another, stronger part of you couldn’t bear keeping it inside for even one more second. It felt like trying to swallow a knife. 

“I saw you,” was all you said. “I just want you to know that I saw you and I heard you.”

The little color he had drained from his face. “W—What?” His bottom lip was trembling—a telltale sign that he was going to cry. “No, no, I—I pushed her away, angel, listen—”

You tsked him, shaking your head in disbelief. You could believe that. That he had pushed her away. Because they were in a public place and he was very notably in a relationship, and people would talk. “It’s fine,” you shrugged. It was not fine but you went on. “She’s hot, I get it.”

“I fired her,” Hyunjin responded without a pause, his voice flat. 

You looked into his eyes, realizing you had no idea what was going on in his head. Realizing you didn’t know who you could trust more. Him, or yourself. Perhaps the correct answer was neither.

“So? Do you?” you replied. “Do you think about her when you touch yourself? When you fuck me?”

You hadn’t seen anger in Hyunjin very often and certainly never to the level he was getting at, so it took you a few seconds to recognize that he was enraged. Something flicked in his eyes, like a warning, but you ignored it. “Are we going to pretend you’re not fooling around with your boss?” 

The question left you speechless. You took a step back, your shoulder blades meeting the brick wall behind you. “What?” You weren’t even surprised—you were properly dumbfounded, as though Hyunjin had spoken in a language you weren’t fluent in.

Hyunjin was getting impatient. A breeze blew over the both of you and a few strands of hair fell over his forehead, obstructing his eyes. “Can we skip the part where you pretend you don’t understand what I’m talking about?” he snickered, looking disgusted. “No, I’m not fucking fantasizing about Haley. But I did call you last night. Twice. To tell you I was on my way to pick you up from the bakery so we could go home. Got no answer—I figured, fine, you’re busy.” 

You thought you knew where this was going but you couldn’t even believe that you were here, right now, having this conversation.

“I saw you through the front windows,” Hyunjin went on. “It was kinda dark, but I saw enough to draw my own conclusions.” 

This explained everything about the awful feeling gnawing at you from the inside. It hadn’t left you since Hyunjin had ignored you last night.

“He just hugged me,” you retorted with a small voice. You didn’t know if you were shaking because it was cold or because you had never felt as broken as you felt now. “I was crying.”

“Sure. A hug. That lasted at least one minute, probably more,” Hyunjin commented. “I wouldn’t know, I walked away. Tell me, does he “““hug””” you like that often?” He emphasized his point by dramatically air quoting the word. How does he like to “““hug””” you? Rough? From behind? Missionary? Does he—”

Your hand left the side of your body before you even realized it—you slapped Hyunjin in the face, shocked at what you were doing just as much as what he was saying and the disdain with which he was speaking to you. Tonight was too much. All of it was entirely too much—barely two minutes ago you witnessed a kiss between him and another woman and yet it was you who was being accused of cheating?

Hyunjin stood before you, speechless, feeling the reddened skin of his cheek like he couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, a hug.” Your voice was shaking.

He cocked his head to the side. “A hug. And then he’ll try to hit that,” he retorted, pressing his lips together.

It felt like it would help you so much if you could figure out exactly what it was that you were feeling. You were furious. You were hurt. You felt sad and betrayed and hopeless. 

You were scared.

Maybe you had known deep inside you, for a while now, that it would come to this. 

“He’s gay. He has a boyfriend. He’s not trying to ‘hit that’. I’m not trying to ‘hit that’. He’s worried about me.” You took a deep breath but only managed to exhale pathetic sobs. “I’m so alone. I’m just so fucking alone, Hyunjin. You don’t even look at me anymore. You just sulk and when I try to pull you back up, when I try to be there for you, you push me away. It hurts, by the way. It hurts when you do that.” 

Hyunjin blinked slowly, his gaze becoming unfocused as though he was reviewing the veracity of your words. It felt terrible to have finally said it. It felt wonderful. Like throwing up after drinking too much. Tasted just as nasty, too. 

“So I hurt you,” Hyunjin replied flatly. “I hurt you.” 

“I know you don’t mean to,” you added. “I just—”

He cut you off. “It was about time you told me,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Why the hell are you wasting your time with me, then?” 

Your heart dropped—it was so violent that you had to press a hand over your chest. It felt like you were going to have a heart attack. “I’m not wasting my time, I’m just saying—”

“No, I got it. I hurt you. Have you ever stopped and wondered if maybe you hurt me, too?” It would have been better if Hyunjin hit you in the face. Anything would have been better than that. “You don’t know how alone I feel too. It’s fine that you don’t want to make me a priority, but it would have been nice to feel like you have my back.”

You buried your face in your hands, hiding your tears away. It couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be telling you that. It couldn’t end.

Not like this.

“But I do have your back,” you mumbled, the pieces of your heart stabbing you from the inside. “I love you—you know that, right?” 

The expression on Hyunjin’s face gave you the response he didn’t speak. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” you asked, your eyes wide. 

“I don’t see what the point of staying together is. If all I do is hurt you and sulk. It’s quite obvious that you’ll be happier without me.”

He walked away. He just walked away.

It was Felix who found you outside some time later, alerted by Hyunjin’s awful mood, or so he said. He was nice. He brought you your coat and offered to go home with you but he was Hyunjin’s friend and he should stay with him. He insisted on calling a cab for you, but when the driver asked you where you were going, you did not give him the address of Hyunjin’s apartment—your apartment. You asked him to take you to the restaurant.

It was the end of the evening there—the dining room was crowded mostly by couples who were now eating dessert and drinking champagne. When you inquired to some of the new employees about Jisung, they all told you he was upstairs with the boss. 

It used to feel like home. This place. The smells, the sounds. It was in this place that maraschino cherries took the taste of love. You crossed the restaurant, keeping your eyes on the floor so as not to see the bar section on the other side. You went directly to the staircase, hoping to find Jisung in his office, but only he was in Minho’s. 

It was the two of them who comforted you that night—or tried, at least. You would never forget the look on their faces when you pushed the door open. It was like they had seen a ghost. Or worse. It made you wonder what you looked like.

You figured you most likely looked like a woman who had lost everything.

Because you sure as hell felt like it. 

Now

Imagine holding the best, most beautiful gift life could ever give you. Imagine feeling its weight in the palm of your hand, the texture of it too, and its warmth. Imagine it scurrying along your arm to bury itself in your chest, making a home out of your heart. Imagine taking care of it, this light inside of you, to make sure it never goes out. 

Imagine a downpour. A monsoon. Imagine not building a roof over the light. Imagine letting the light burn itself out in order to keep yourself warm. And letting it. Because maybe your brain felt like you ought to be punished for something, and what better punishment than to take away from you that one thing, that warmth that you love so much, even if it meant to hurt it all the while? 

After all, there could be only one way to separate that light from your heart, so imagine drinking poison in the hopes it would poison it, too.

Imagine the light drowning right before your eyes. 

What you would see is the state of Hyunjin’s heart. 

He had it all. He had it all because he had you. Maybe it was from missing you too much but he would say that he fell in love with you at first sight and he has only loved you more and more since. 

Maybe it was just because of the way he longed for you. Maybe it was because it was all that he had left. The longing, the yearning. The memory of you. 

Hyunjin was aware of his mistakes. He knew them a little too well—he played them in his head almost at all times. 

He had it all but he didn’t know that he did while it was happening. He was greedy. He had the bar and it was great, it was like a dream come true. Only he was too proud, and too ashamed, too. He really believed he could make it on his own. He didn’t want his problems to become yours. 

He didn’t want you to see him fail. 

He had it all but none of it was worth anything if you weren’t there with him.

Hyunjin had come to understand that a little too late—that he couldn’t just share the good things with you. That true love meant, also, sharing the burdens, the ugly stuff. Really sharing, not just pretending to.

By the time that information settled in, you were long gone. 

Those were the worst months of his life. 

Those were months of sleepless nights, of regret, of shame. Big decisions brewing at the back of his mind and at the very front of it too, crushing him under their weight. Months and months and months of missing you and knowing you deserved better than a guy like him, whose first instincts had been to sabotage the relationship instead of dealing with his issues. You deserved better than a coward.

The colder it got outside, the more vividly he remembered you. 

Hyunjin called Minho one evening in early December, only a few weeks ago. He made it look like he wanted to catch up on him—Hey, it’s been a long time man, how are things?—but really Hyunjin wanted to ask about Minho’s contacts in the food and beverage industry.

And maybe, also, he wanted to ask about you.

“Oh, business has been as good as it can be,” Minho told him after Hyunjin inquired. “Just super grateful for the staff, everyone’s working hard during the holidays.” He paused then. “Hey, Hwang. Are you free some time around the 20th?” 

Hyunjin thought about it, looking at the calendar hanging in Nightcap’s break room. “That’s a Friday. Those are busy,” he replied. Naturally, as a bar owner, he did not have the luxury to take Fridays off. “Why?”

“Ah, of course,” Minho replied politely, clearing his throat. “I rented a cabin in the mountains again since it was such a success the first time. Too bad you can’t make it, you’d be welcome, Felix too—” 

Hyunjin almost dropped his phone, his heart racing. “I can make time,” he said without waiting. “I mean, I could ask someone to take over for a couple of days, I—” He wondered if he sounded as desperate as he was. 

Minho let out a non-committal sound, clicking his tongue. “Are you only saying that because you think she’ll be there?” He didn’t need to specify who he was talking about—Hyunjin knew. 

He was right. Minho was right. Hyunjin had vowed himself he would stay away from you—he had caused you enough pain anyway. He had to pay for the terrible mistakes he made. But the temptation was just too much.

“Before you ask, yes she RSVP’d,” Minho went on. “You should come too. I think it’s about time the two of you get some closure. Fair warning though—I will beat you up if you make her cry. Don’t bring your girlfriend, only Felix.” Hyunjin tried to stop him to at least let him know he sure as hell didn’t have a girlfriend, but Minho didn’t let him. “I’ll text you the address and directions when I hang up. We’re also having a Secret Santa gift exchange. To keep it simple, I’ll pair everyone in an online randomizer. So I’ll text you about that in a couple of days too. I’ll see you on the 20th, Hwang. Good talk.” 

He just hung up. One minute later, Hyunjin was sent a Maps link with an address located in a remote village up in the mountains. 

Two days later, Minho was texting him again to let him know that he would be your Secret Santa. 

Minho: Better not fuck this up, Hwang.

Hyunjin knew he ought to call Minho and ask him to redraw the names because it just wasn’t appropriate. In all honesty, Minho might have tweaked the results. He knew he ought to call him to cancel the whole thing. Hyunjin shouldn’t go. Perhaps he would be tempted. By you.

He shouldn’t go. But he was not strong enough to resist. 

He only wanted you to know what had really happened. He wanted you to know that he was sorry, that he never fucked Haley and never even wanted to, that he never actually thought you and Eric had slept together. He was just upset. And tired. And inadequate. 

He hadn’t apologized for what he had done—you hadn’t given him the occasion to do so. The day after the breakup, you came into the apartment with Minho, Jisung, and Chan. Chan kept him company—as in, making sure he was never in the same room as you were—while the other two helped you pack up your things. You did not look at him but he heard you cry from the other room. You left the apartment. When he went to the bedroom, your keys were on the unmade bed, and his heart was in his throat.

He did not deserve to apologize, but it was his one shot at telling you the truth and admitting his faults. He wouldn’t miss it.

Imagine holding the best, most beautiful gift life could ever give you. Imagine fucking up so bad that your entire life is ruined. 

“Dinner is ready,” Jisung’s voice said through the door. He knocked again. “We made pasta with the sauce Chan brought. The one you like so much,” he added. “Min just opened a bottle of wine. Come on.” 

You sighed, burying your face into your pillow. He didn’t understand. You had tried staying—you had tried having a normal conversation with your ex, but it couldn’t work out. It meant that you couldn’t stay. You had been devising a plan for the past hour or so. While Christmas music was playing downstairs and smells from Chan’s delicious pasta sauce started floating in the air, you were checking if the motel you had seen in the village on your way here was open and if there was a room for rent. A little snow didn’t worry you. 

Good thing you hadn’t really taken the time to unpack your bag.

“Are you there?” Jisung asked, wiggling the door handle to see if you had locked it. You had not, perhaps in your hurry to run away from Hyunjin or because you didn’t imagine anyone would come after you. 

He cracked open the door, just barely, staring at you from the shadows of the hallway. Your room was dark too as you had not bothered turning on any lights during your crying fit. It was a small room but it had a nice view���like most of the bedrooms in the cabin, it even had a balcony. It had a cozy, rustic vibe to it with three of the four walls made of distressed wood paneling, the one facing your bed was built with warm-red bricks. It was such a shame. You had loved the room upon seeing it and had been actually looking forward to your weekend here, as much as you could anyway.

It was hard for you to look forward to things these days. But this weekend was supposed to be good. You were supposed to cook the Christmas dinner tomorrow with Min and you would bake some cookies and a cake, too. You had been assigned as Seungmin’s Secret Santa and you had found a bomb-ass gift for him which was a baseball shirt autographed by his favorite player. He would owe you his life after this. Okay, maybe not literally, but still. You couldn’t wait to see the look on your friend’s face when he would unwrap it.

Not anymore though. You wouldn’t be here tomorrow night. Hell, if there was a god and if that  god was good, you wouldn’t even be here in an hour. 

“I decided to leave,” you told Jisung, sitting up. “You can’t stop me.” 

Jisung fully opened the door. “You can’t though,” he pointed out. “You saw the snow.”

“It’s snow, not a horde of dragons attacking the mountain. I’ll manage.” You stood, putting on a denim jacket over your t-shirt and grabbing your bag. 

“A horde of dragons? You watch too much TV, friend.” Jisung shook his head. “Please don’t leave tonight. We talked about this just earlier.” 

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to be brave anymore.” 

Jisung tried—and failed—to stop you from getting out of the room. He followed you downstairs. Everyone seemed to be in the kitchen. It smelled delicious and you heard their conversations and the clinking of cutlery, but you did not look that way. Instead, you went directly to where you had left your winter jacket and changed into your snow boots. 

“We came in my car though,” Jisung muttered, clearly trying not to be heard by the others whose conversations had visibly lowered in volume. “You need my keys.”

“Yup.” You reached into the pocket of Jisung’s jacket which hung right next to yours and retrieved the aforementioned keys. “There. All good. I promise I’ll be careful with it. I’ll go down to the village at that motel we saw. I’ll come get you on Sunday. Okay?” 

Jisung gave up, a saddened look on his face. He nodded slowly, raising his hands in surrender. “What happened to facing your heartbreak and healing from it?” 

You glanced towards the other side of the large open space room. All of your friends sat around a huge wooden table overflowing with food and wine. All that you could see were smiles. Hyunjin was facing the other way so you could not see his face but he was eating his pasta and having a conversation with Changbin who sat next to him. 

“You’re right about that,” you conceded, your throat tight. “But I don’t think any amount of facing it and looking it in the eyes will heal me. I’m hopeless, Ji. You’re gonna have to wrap your head around that at some point.”

“Nobody is hopeless,” he insisted, but you had walked away already.

You would at least be an adult about it. While you were elaborating your plan, you had considered faking an emergency, something giving you an excuse to leave. But it would be too obvious and too childish. Hyunjin always saw right through your lies anyway. 

“Hey guys,” you managed as you approached the table. “I just came to say goodbye. I decided to leave.” 

A heavy silence fell onto the room. Hyunjin spun in his chair to see you but you did not look at him. 

Minho stood. “Don’t leave, it isn’t safe,” he said. “Look—”

“I’m leaving,” you repeated. “Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room, yeah? We’re all adults, after all, guys. I know it’s been a while since many of you have seen Hyunjin—and Felix—and I’m really happy y’all get this little reunion. But I’m just gonna go. Okay? No hard feelings. Not even for you, Min.” 

You saw Hyunin lowering his head from the corner of your eye. “I’ll go,” he muttered. You barely heard him. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, it’s totally fine!” You could hardly believe how easy it was for you to say all of those things in front of everyone. You imagined it must be caused by some sort of adrenaline rush. “I mean it. You should stay.” You made your way toward the door before anyone could stop you. 

Minho did follow, putting himself in between the door and you. “Wait, okay?” 

“Min, just, no,” you began. “You and I dated for nine months. We were friends before. One night you kissed me. Nine months later, you were barely looking at me, barely speaking to me. In the end you broke up with me because it didn’t feel right, because you had too much work, all that.” You didn’t care that Minho’s wife was right there. You didn’t care that literally everyone in the room was listening to you. “I got over you. Then I fell in love with him,” you added, motioning towards Hyunjin who was still looking at the floor. “It was great. Until it was not. Until he, too, stopped looking at me. Until he stopped speaking to me. Until he kissed that waitress in the back room. And then he broke up with me too. So you’re gonna step the fuck away and let me leave this place. And everything will keep going as it was before and I’m not gonna be mad at anyone here. I’m just gonna go. Okay?”

Minho swallowed thickly, sliding to the left, freeing the door. “Okay.” He opened his mouth to speak and you knew him well enough to know he wanted to say I’m sorry, only you didn’t want to hear any more of that—you just pushed the door open and walked out.

You did manage to close the door behind you but that in itself was a miracle for you had barely made it outside. The snow was reaching somewhere just below your knees—it was heavier than you had imagined, too, and you sank into it with each step you took. It infiltrated your boots, freezing your toes almost instantly.

The wind was relentless. You swallowed snow on many occasions on your way to the parking lot, located on the left side of the cabin. But you remained resolute, fueled by anger, by disappointment. You could barely make out the cars—snow must have accumulated on the spot illuminating the area and it had also covered a lot of the cars, so it was difficult to see which was which. 

It was cold but you didn’t care. Once you found Jisung’s car, you began removing the several inches of snow that covered it. You thought about Minho’s words as you angrily pushed the wet snow off the roof and windows. It’s not that you can’t move on from things. It’s that you don’t want to. Maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong—it wasn’t true for every aspect of your life, except, perhaps, this one thing. Hyunjin.

Moving on from him seemed impossible. You had seen, so vividly, your life intertwined with his in the future. You had felt a love deeper than you thought love could ever be. 

And now it was all that you had left. The memories of it, no matter how painful they were. It was all that you had of Hyunjin—the empty space he left behind. 

It kept snowing.

Hyunjin wished you had slammed the door. 

Many things happened right after you left—the group separated itself into thirds. One third tried to diffuse the obvious tension immediately by saying that by now, snow plows or something must have cleared the roads at least a little and that you would be okay. Then they continued the conversation almost as though nothing had occurred. Hyunjin couldn’t even be mad at them because he could tell it was out of good intentions. They were trying to preserve some kind of peace. 

The second group seemed genuinely worried for your well-being. Should he have been able to speak right now, he would have been one of them, voicing his own concerns about the weather and your lack of winter clothing. Felix was asking Jisung if he should go get you. Jisung shrugged. “Maybe someone could follow her just to make sure she makes it safely.”

The third group, however, had other preoccupations. Si-yeon, Minho’s wife, Ha-ri, Changbin’s girlfriend, Soren, Chan’s girlfriend, Chan himself, and Seungmin were discussing under their breaths but he could hear them very well. 

“Is it true what she said?” Si-yeon asked after clearing her throat. By the sound of it, it seemed like she was directing her question towards Minho, but when she did not get a response, she turned to Hyunjin. “Is it true? Did you cheat on her?” 

Heat burned his ears. God, he wanted to disappear. He barely managed to raise his eyes. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “It’s not how it happened.” 

“Did you kiss a waitress? That’s what she said,” Soren pointed out. 

“She kissed me,” Hyunjin specified. “I rejected her.” That night was the worst night of his life. He remembered everything in detail.

“Did you not tell her that you invited her ex?” Chan asked Minho. “That’s fucked up, dude.” 

A cacophony followed—everyone talked over the other, trying to make themselves heard, exposing their point. He really shouldn’t have come. It wasn’t fair to you. He didn’t imagine that Minho would have kept it from you, of course not. But he had, and now you were upset.

And Hyunjin’s heart was heavy.

He missed you. He missed you more than he could say—it didn’t matter if he locked himself in a room all weekend, making sure you never saw him. Because it would mean to be under the same roof as you once again. Even just a few hours. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would smell your perfume as you walked past his door, or maybe he would hear your voice. 

One thing was sure, he wasn’t going to let you leave. Not tonight. He’d barely managed to reach this place, after all. 

Without a word or a glance to anybody, Hyunjin pushed himself up, making his way toward the door. He ignored all the questions and comments. What are you doing? Where are you going? Are you sure it’s a good idea? Maybe someone else should go. 

In two seconds, he was in his boots again, leaving his slippers behind. 

Maybe, selfishly, he wanted you to know that he still loved you. 

Going outside felt like running into a wall, only, the wall was made of wind, ice, and snow. He coughed as snowflakes entered his mouth and even his nostrils. He was only wearing a light sweater but he hid his hands into the sleeves, also protecting his face as best he could with his arms. He called out your name but the wind was louder, so he waited a few seconds to try again. 

He could see some people looking through the windows and that did not please Hyunjin, so he quickly made his way toward the small parking lot. Snow entered his boots but he kept going, squinting as he tried to catch sight of you. He could see that some snow had been removed from a car but that wouldn’t be enough for you to be able to drive with it. There was a lot of snow on the ground and he didn’t think that a simple sedan would be able to go through it. 

He could see the car. He could also see your bag, left on the trunk. 

But he couldn’t see you. 

He called your name again, his heart dropping. It was totally understandable that you were angry but you couldn’t possibly have run off into the woods in this weather, right? 

What he saw once he reached the car was perhaps worse. You were sitting right next to it, one leg stretched and the other bent so that your foot was towards you. You were completely leaning over it, your shoulders shaking with cries. You had cried earlier too—he had seen it in your eyes. It hurt him to see you like this.

He approached you carefully, almost as though you were a feral animal. “Hey,” he said in a low voice.

You jumped, looking up, recoiling when you saw him—that motion caused you to wince and wrap your hands around your ankle.

Hyunjin got on his knees, not minding one bit the cold snow dampening his pants and freezing him. “Did you hurt yourself?” He tried to look you in the eyes but you wouldn’t let him. “Did you fall? Did you hit your head?” 

“I’m fine,” you replied. “It’s just my ankle.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” 

You sighed, wiping tears off your face. Your bare fingers were red and stiff. Instinctively, Hyunjin reached for your hand to warm it up, but you pulled away. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay. Go back inside.”

He looked around, searching for his words. “I don’t think you can leave,” he started, leaning closer to you. “Look. We can’t even see the path. We’re snowed in. And you hurt yourself. Isn’t this the ankle you sprained before?” 

You gave him a slow nod after a few seconds. “There was ice over there,” you explained, motioning vaguely behind you. “Under the snow. I slipped, and…” 

“We’ll get you back inside now,” Hyunjin said. “Wait here, I’ll go get someone and we’ll—”

“No, please.” This time, you did touch him—when he went to stand up, you caught his wrist, pulling him back. Your touch went through his body like a shockwave, making him lightheaded. “I can’t go back in there. Not after I made a scene.”

There it was. There you were. He recognized you more than ever now as you softened, as your anger dissipated. Not two seconds ago, you were still enraged. Now you looked at him with teary, pleading eyes. 

“Everyone in there is your friend,” Hyunjin pointed out. “No one will judge you.” 

“Of course they’ll judge me.” You let go of his wrist, taking a deep breath. “Help me up. I can still drive.” 

Unfortunately for you, he had seen in which pocket of your coat you had put Jisung’s keys—he was easily able to reach into it to retrieve them, effectively stealing them from you.

You stared at him with your mouth wide open, shocked. “Fuck you!” 

“Yup, fuck me,” Hyunjin retorted, this time standing up for good. “Hold on!” he quickly added when you, too, tried to stand, but it was obvious you couldn’t put much weight on your ankle. 

“This is the second most humiliating day of my life,” you muttered as Hyunjin went to help you up. “The first on the list is when my boyfriend dumped me on Valentine’s Day.” You shot him a venomous gaze.

He sighed, the pang in his heart undeniable. He had never really been confronted with it before. The pain he had caused you. It had all been abstract up until this point. He had thought about it a lot, of course, but to see it with his own two eyes was a whole other thing. Your damp cheeks, the redness in your eyes. The expression on your face when you looked at him—it wasn’t even anger, or disgust. It was worse. It was disappointment.

And yet. You were there. You were right there. It was the first time in so long that Hyunjin saw you, that he spoke with you. And it wasn’t an easy thing to admit, not even to himself, but it still felt so normal to be by your side, to just speak with you. Sure, there was an awkwardness that could not be denied. But there was so much more beneath it. All the memories, all the time spent with you, all the love, the intimacy. It seemed like that bond hadn’t been severed. 

“What a fucking loser,” Hyunjin said with an exaggerated snort. “Good riddance, yeah? Nobody needs a boyfriend like that.” 

You stared at him, speechless, blinking slowly. Maybe it was the stress or the pain, but you burst into laughter that you had to control in order not to hurt your ankle even more. It was music to his ears. It almost felt like being revived after cardiac arrest. “Come on, help me up instead of working your stand-up comic routine.” 

Hyunjin positioned himself behind you, not hesitating before wrapping one arm around your waist and another under your arms. “I got you, just don’t use that foot.” You smelled good. Your perfume was the same—its delicate yet bold notes hit his nostrils like a warm spring day. 

Much like ripping a band-aid off a wound, Hyunjin pulled you up right away—you helped by standing on your good foot and by holding onto the car next to you, but you had to lean against it as soon as you stood, wincing in pain. “Wow,” you said nonetheless. “You’ve been working out, haven’t you?”

He shrugged. “Helps me keep my head clear.” He grabbed your bag and returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist again. You held onto him and hopped as best you could toward the cabin as he let you put all your weight onto him. “Careful, you’ll slip again,” he warned. “I’ll carry you—”

“Not a fucking chance. I’d rather die frozen in the snow than go back in there carried princess-style by the guy who dumped me on Valentine’s Day.”

“Really gotta rub it in, don’t you?” Despite the gloomy essence of the conversation, the tone was light-hearted. “Not that I don’t deserve it…”

It didn’t matter that it took several minutes to make it back to the porch—Hyunjin was not cold. Not when he was so close to you. Not when he was touching you, holding you. 

“Don’t let them make fun of me,” you warned. 

He glanced inside—pretty much everyone was back around the table. “I won’t,” he promised, grabbing the door handle, but he didn’t push it open. “I really want you to know that I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t want to cheat on you,” he said, turning to you. “I know that you saw what you saw and I’m not asking you to forgive me or anything like that. Haley kissed me and I pushed her away. I just want you to believe me. Please.”

You frowned. “You literally broke up with me five minutes later, though.” 

“I had my reasons. But nowhere among them was Haley. I promise you.” His heart felt lighter now that he had told you. 

“She had been flirting with you for months,” you reminded him. “Very openly. Often right in front of me.”

“I should have fired her way before,” he conceded. That was one of the many mistakes he made—obviously, Hyunjin wasn’t worth much when put under stress, like he lost any ability to think clearly. “But I don’t want you going around thinking that you got cheated on. Because you didn’t. I would never have done this to you.” 

You remained quiet—Hyunjin could sense that you needed to think it over, so instead of insisting on the topic, he opened the door. 

You were obviously uncomfortable when you followed him inside. “You have no idea how humiliating this is for me,” you muttered under your breath. “All of it.” 

It was his fault, after all, so there was no way in hell Hyunjin would let you be uneasy because of him.

The guests around the table became quiet when they noticed that you were with him. Jisung immediately got up, followed closely by Si-yeon and Soren. 

Jisung gasped when he saw the state you were in. “Oh my god, are you okay?” 

“It’s my fault,” Hyunjin said immediately. “I insisted that she should stay and I chased after her.” He found it rather simple to lie when it was to make your life easier. “She tripped and twisted her ankle trying to run away from me.” 

“I’m fine,” you said but nobody believed you. 

Hyunjin was gently pushed away as everyone came to take care of you—Chan and Soren helped you to the couch while Jisung was preparing a bag of ice for your ankle. Minho inquired about the amount of parm you wanted on your pasta as he filled a plate with food for you. Felix stood with Hyunjin and, together, they observed the scene quietly. You were given a hot pack to warm up your fingers and a thick blanket to wrap around you. 

In no more than five minutes, you were comfortably lying on one of the sectional couches of the living room, eating a generous plate of pasta with your foot elevated on two cushions. Jisung, Soren, and Chan were sitting with you, eating and drinking, while others had returned to the table and a few people were standing near the kitchen island, chatting and putting leftovers in containers. 

Hyunjin stayed in a corner after sending Felix away—he didn’t want his friend to miss out on a good evening on his behalf. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He was just troubled. He hadn’t been able to predict how he would feel once he saw you again, but even if his guess had turned out scarily accurate, the real thing was a million times more intense.

Hyunjin had known from the start. He had known from the moment you walked away from him that Valentine’s Day that he still loved you and that he wouldn’t stop loving you. But to know one thing and to experience it were two very different events.

His eyes met yours when you looked up from your plate. This time you didn’t avert your gaze.

Yup. He was fucked.

He was still head-over-heels in love with you.

“I think it’s sprained and that we have to wrap it tightly,” Jisung said, his eyes on his screen after looking up first aid advice. 

“We’ll get you to a doctor as soon as the snow allows it,” Chan assured. “Do you want another glass of wine?” 

The ambiance was much quieter than it had been—everyone was dispersed around the cabin, just enjoying the overall coziness of the place. You were still in the living room with Chan, Soren, and Jisung but you could see Minho in the kitchen, chatting with Felix and Hyunjin while he did some prep for tomorrow’s Christmas meal. You knew a few people were watching horror movies in the basement—and you were especially grateful to be anywhere but there.

“No, thank you,” you told Chan, forcing a smile on your face. “You guys don’t have to stay with me you know? I’ll be fine. Didn’t you want to play board games?”

“Won’t you play with us?” Jisung asked. 

“I’m tired.” And it wasn’t even a lie. Your entire day had been a roller coaster of emotions and you felt drained, empty, and your ankle was still excessively painful. “If someone would be kind enough to fetch me some elastic bandages from the first aid kit, that’s all I need. I’m used to it, I can wrap it myself.” 

Chan tried to insist but in the end, Soren dragged him away so he would help her choose a board game—maybe she understood you a little better than the guys. Maybe she knew that you just needed to be alone for a little while.

It was Jisung who brought you the bandages. “Are you okay?” He squeezed your shoulder, taking a deep breath. 

You stared at the rolls of bandage in your hand, thinking it over. Today felt much like a fever dream, like nothing about it was real. Like it could not be possible that you were currently in the same building as Hyunjin. Like it could not be possible that he had spoken to you softly, that he had held you, touched you, and that it made your heart flutter. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted to Jisung. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling,” you added, keeping your voice low.

“I don’t think there’s any way you’re ‘supposed’ to feel right now,” he told you. 

You nodded, sending him away so that he could join the game. Felix and Hyunjin also voiced their desire to play. “I’ll make us a round of drinks before,” Hyunjin decided. “Anyone interested?” 

You heard responses coming from the dining area and then silence fell over the room. From the corner of your eye, you noticed that several heads were turned your way. Hyunjin called your name, his voice cracking as he did so. “Do you want a drink?” 

“Sure,” you replied out of habit, mostly to make everyone look away.

You focused on unwrapping your supplies, doing your best to chase the thoughts swirling in your head. God, why were you a little glad to see him all of a sudden? You had been so upset about it earlier—with good reason!—and while you were very much still pissed off, you couldn’t help but feel a certain relief after his revelation. 

You didn’t want to believe him. That he didn’t cheat on you, that he never even wanted to. So why was your heart… like that? Why wasn’t it raising its defenses, why was it leaving you exposed and vulnerable? Had it not learned from the betrayal it suffered? Why had it been so easy for Hyunjin to sneak his way back inside of it? 

For months, the simple idea of meeting Hyunjin again had haunted you as you had no idea how you would react. But sometimes—usually after a few drinks—you started to imagine crazy scenarios. Like him calling you out of nowhere and asking to see you or even him showing up unannounced at your job to beg you to take him back. You were usually quick to banish these thoughts, trying to drown them in the most painful memories you held. Like all the times he kept you at a distance when all that you wanted was to be there with him, just so he wouldn’t be alone with his dark thoughts. 

When that didn’t suffice, you had to bring out the big guns. Like replaying in your mind the kiss with Haley. Or the subsequent breakup, and the tone with which he spoke to you, making it very clear that while you had good intentions, you did not have the means to help him—no matter how hard you’d try, you would never be enough to soothe his heart. 

Except he was here tonight, whether you liked it or not. And you could still feel the ghost of his hand around your waist. You had never known addiction before and would a drug addict had told you about their experience, you would have empathized with them of course, but not understood. If it’s an addiction and if it’s dangerous, then why keep doing it, even if it feels good?

Because. Because it felt so fucking good.

You were so lost in your thoughts, barely paying attention to wrapping your ankle, that you didn’t notice Hyunjin when he approached, holding two glasses. You jumped when you saw him, immediately telling yourself that your heart rate was increasing because he had surprised you and not because he looked exceptionally handsome in the warm lighting of the fireplace. 

And certainly not because he was handing you a glass with a very familiar drink in it—you recognized it instantly as one of his signature drinks. He called it, simply, Merry Christmas. You had participated in its creation in the form of drinking many versions of it to review them. Sugar around the rim, some limoncello, a little bit (or a lot) of vodka, and a drop of vanilla syrup in some seltzer. But the best part was the maraschino cherry juice, which gave the cocktail its festive look along with a piece of rosemary resembling a little evergreen tree in the glass. 

“There,” Hyunjin said, waiting for you to pick up your drink. He seemed to hesitate but ultimately went on, “I added some extra cherries in yours. I hear they’re very good at promoting the healing of ankles specifically.”

You stared at your glass and then at his own drink, which only had one maraschino cherry in it. As though you needed to make sure, you glanced around the room, trying to see how many the others had gotten. Because Hyunjin had put an entire mini-skewer of cherries in yours. 

He used to do that all the time back at the restaurant. His special drinks. Just for you. They didn’t always contain alcohol but he always made up some scientific facts to justify them—to boost serotonin, to clear headaches, to ease a sore neck, to heal a cold. And you’d always accept the drinks with a witty remark and it forced a smile on your face, no matter what. 

In hindsight, you couldn’t believe that you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you before it was almost too late. He hadn’t even been subtle about it, had he? 

And there he was, doing it again. This time, though, your brain came to your defense—this wasn’t him flirting with you like it had been at the restaurant. This was simply Hyunjin trying to be nice after daring to show up here. 

And yet, almost like muscle memory, your lips curved into a faint smile. 

“I’d really love to see all these medical articles you read,” you retorted, accepting the drink from him. “It’s crazy all the things I learn with you. At this rate, you’re basically some sort of healer.”  

Hyunjin seemed just as surprised as you to hear your response, but once the shock set in, he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you my secrets,” he replied, sitting on the couch next to the cushions on which your ankle rested not long ago. “The more I tell you, the more dangerous it is for you. It’s best if you stay in the dark.” 

“Sure thing.” You took a sip from the drink—it was ice cold and just as delicious as you remembered it. Or maybe even more. It had been so long. “I didn’t know there was a cocktail mafia out there. I got it—I won’t tell a soul.”

“I knew I could trust you.” Hyunjin winked at you, also tasting his drink, glancing at the others who were now preparing their board game on the table. “Seriously though, are you okay?” He motioned at your foot.

You rested it on the cushions again, lifting the leg of your pants to display it. It was definitely very swollen and a little bruising had started to appear in places. You winced, sucking air between your teeth, quickly drinking more in the hopes that the alcohol would help. “It could have been worse,” you said nonetheless. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Yeah, it looks exactly like the time you sprained it,” Hyunjin confirmed with a nod, observing it closely. “Give that to me. It needs to be wrapped quickly to control the swelling.” He showed you the bandages left on the couch next to you. “I think it’s better if someone does it for you.” He stopped then, averting his gaze. “I can get someone else if you want.” 

Gun to your head, you would not have been able to understand addiction before tonight. 

“It’s fine. Thank you.” You handed him the bandages, sitting more comfortably now. “You’re the healer, after all. Makes me wonder why you settled for bartending when you could be rich—like, a literal millionaire—performing miracles on the daily. You could have it all. A palace to live in, all the riches you can imagine, all the girls, too—” 

You stopped mid-sentence, biting into a maraschino cherry, releasing its sweet juice on your tongue. It hadn’t really occurred to you that Hyunjin could very well be in a relationship right now. If it wasn’t Haley then it was someone else. Surely. A man like him—kind, funny, handsome, with a huge cock and the talent to use it. There was no way in hell he wasn’t seeing someone. 

Hyunjin put his drink away, choosing to begin his task instead of responding. He gulped, reaching for your ankle, pausing just a few millimeters away from it almost like he was asking permission. He used to do that a lot. Except it was with his mouth on your pussy, and he did it to tease you just as much as to ask for your consent—because it turned him on a lot. 

Just how much alcohol was in this damn drink?

You took another sip anyway, hoping that holding the glass in front of your face for a few seconds would allow for the dramatic flush that had appeared on it to fade away a little. 

Slowly, carefully, Hyunjin lifted your foot to lay the bandage underneath your ankle. It quickly returned on the cushions, and if you were honest, it had caused you a lot of pain to move it and yet you found yourself wishing he would do it again. The sensation of his fingers on your skin was as frightening as it was intoxicating. It reminded you of when he would caress your leg, your calf, your ankle with the back of his fingers while the two of you lounged on the couch. Sometimes naked, sometimes not, just existing alongside one another, watching TV. 

It reminded you of all the times he would wrap his fingers around your ankles, pulling them up, resting them on his shoulders so he could fuck you deeper. 

Oh no. No no no. You couldn’t feel like this. You couldn’t even let those thoughts wander in your mind—it was too dangerous. The fact that he was here tonight was a coincidence, albeit a sinister one. It didn’t mean anything. He was nice to you because of his guilt and maybe because he had gotten over that dark episode in his life and he wanted some closure. It was hard to tell. In any case, none of this meant anything. Him being sweet. The maraschino cherries.

You couldn’t let it mean anything—because in less than forty-eight hours you would both leave this place and go on your separate ways. And you did not think you could go through it another time. You did not think you could lose him again. It might kill you this time. It really might.

Fortunately for you, however, a strong gust of wind blew over the mountain as you took a few more nervous sips of your drink, and the power went out. 

There was only one second of complete silence before an uproar of terrified screams echoed from downstairs, where a bunch of people had been watching horror movies. Ultimately, Seungmin’s voice could be heard louder than the others as he urged people to ‘chill the fuck out’ because ‘it’s just a power outage’. 

Minho cursed from the kitchen. “I can’t see shit.” 

The cabin was very dark with the exception of the large fireplace in the living room and a few dim security lights here and there. Being so close to the fire, you could see Hyunjin very well—he did not seem bothered by the sudden turn of events, continuing his careful wrapping of your ankle, making sure to be as meticulous as he could be. 

People downstairs quickly came back up, telling a tale of the power going out at the exact moment some disturbing scene happened in the movie, scaring all of them to death. Minho reminded everyone that an electrical generator would continue to give them power for the two fridges as well as one tank of hot water and that he did not want anybody arguing over that. 

“We’ll still have food and be able to wash up,” he said while Felix was holding the flashlight on his phone over his shoulder to light up the counter where he was cutting up vegetables. “Nobody is allowed to take extensive showers like some people like to do. Okay?” 

“This felt targeted, Lee,” Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head. 

Hyunjin was known for his very long and very warm showers—it had become a running joke among the employees. You giggled too, remembering the friendly bicker between these two back when you worked at the restaurant. But your amusement was cut short by the memory of Hyunjin’s bathroom after he exited his shower in the apartment you shared with him—he usually doodled something in the condensation that was covering the mirror. For you. A heart, a smiley face, or he’d just write I love you. You even made it a habit of going to see what the surprise was after his shower, even if you didn’t need to be in the bathroom.

You drank more, remaining quiet as everyone took place on the couch or on big cushions on the floor. By the time most were comfortably installed, your ankle was tightly wrapped and Hyunjin had even pressed more ice onto it.

He stayed there when he was done, sitting, and drinking in silence. You tried to ignore the curious glances, eyes fixated on the flames in the fireplace. 

“It’s running late, we could just go to bed and hope the power is back by tomorrow,” Seungmin suggested. 

“The heating system relies on electricity though,” Minho explained. “There are loads of blankets, but maybe it would be safer for some of us to sleep here in the living room by the fire?” He gulped nervously. “Especially those who, huh, aren’t sharing a bed with someone else. I’d hate for someone to freeze in their sleep.” 

“Wow,” Jisung scoffed with a playful smile. “Looking out for your single-as-fuck friends. Truly heartwarming.” 

“I’m just saying,” Minho responded, shrugging, but he was smiling too. “Those who want, we could go grab the mattresses upstairs?”

“OH MY GOD, A SLEEPOVER! YES!” Jisung exclaimed, pushing himself up even though it had not been a minute since he sat down. “Singles only. All of you who are fulfilled and content and happy can go freeze your asses upstairs.” 

As usual, Jisung’s comment brought laughter to the group. Most of the guys were on mattress duty while others were trying to find all the extra blankets, or exchanging woolen socks to make sure everyone’s toes would be safe from the cold. Naturally, you were forbidden to move, so you just drank, each maraschino cherry reminding you of how alone you were. 

And yet you were surrounded with all of your friends. People you cared about and who cared about you. People who called you on your birthday, who sent you memes in the middle of the night as a love language, who brought you soup when you had the flu. It wasn’t fair to them. This loneliness that you felt. And you didn’t want any of it, but it was stuck somewhere in your throat, slowly but surely preventing your lungs from getting the oxygen they needed. 

And here they were, devising architectural plans for a pillow fort while you were holding your tears. You wouldn’t have called yourself a bad person or a bad friend before but it was tonight that you realized that you were one. Because it felt like so little mattered since the breakup. Months. Months of just watching life happen around you—as the audience, not the actor. 

It just seemed like your existence itself was lackluster now that you had tasted life with your soulmate. Everything you did, you did it without Hyunjin. Without Hyunjin as a qualitative, descriptive way to describe the state you were in. You woke up without Hyunjin. You celebrated your birthday without Hyunjin. You went to the grocery store without Hyunjin. You went to work. You visited your mother for dinner. You went out for drinks with friends. You watched the new season of your favorite TV show.

You existed without Hyunjin. 

But it just wasn’t the same. 

It soon became clear that Hyunjin intended to be present for Jisung’s sleepover, which made you panic on the inside. On one hand was your ankle and you weren’t sure how well you’d do in the stairs. On the other hand was the dreadful notion of sleeping in the same room as him. It wouldn’t matter how many people would be there also—you would be able to recognize his breathing patterns, his soft, sleepy sighs when he rolled over. 

You had never been one to sleep easily before him. You’d spend hours just waiting for sleep to come. And then there had been Hyunjin and it used to feel like you didn’t have enough hours in a day to be with him. Like you didn’t even want to sleep at night. You’d lay in bed, sleepy, often a little sore between your legs but full of cum, just existing alongside him. Listening to him fall asleep. His arms around you. It was impossible not to drift to sleep then, because you had never felt safer than in these moments.

Needless to say—now that you slept without Hyunjin, you did not sleep very much at all. 

Carefully, you removed your ankle from the cushions, preparing to get up—Hyunjin spotted you, quickly dropping the pillows he was holding. “Wait! You can’t do that!” 

You rolled your eyes—it seemed easier to act annoyed at him than you let him show the true state of your heart. “I sure as hell can. I can’t spend the next week sitting on that couch. I need to pee.” 

He grunted something under his breath. “Alright. Let’s go. You always have to pee.”

“Oh shut up,” you retorted, nudging him and yet still allowing him to wrap his arm around you once again, helping you up. He quickly pulled away, letting you lean against the wall. “I’ll manage. Thank you very much.” 

You pathetically limped your way to one of the downstairs bathrooms, locking yourself in there using your phone for light, quickly splashing cool water all over your face. You should have tried to leave. By now, you might have been in a motel somewhere, all alone, away from Hyunjin and all the memories he brought back. 

You were walking around the bathroom, testing whether you could make it upstairs or not, when someone knocked at the door. 

“Coming!” 

“It’s me.” Hyunjin. “I just figured, like, do you want me to go get your toothbrush and stuff from upstairs? Maybe?”

What the fuck was going on? Was that going to happen? Being… friends? With him? After everything that had happened? Despite all the complicated feelings you had?

You opened the door. “It’s fine, I’ll sleep upstairs,” you assured.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you and then down at your ankle. “Not a good idea.” 

“It’s fine,” you repeated, going past him, making your way slowly and painfully toward the stairs. He followed you closely—you could feel his hands ghosting you as he prepared to hold you if you collapsed. 

Maybe it made you want to collapse. 

“Hey, are you not coming to my sleepover?” Jisung called. He was busy making the beds with Felix. You counted five of them which could only mean one thing. “I told them to bring a mattress for you. Thought it would be best for your foot.”

You stood there, basking in the warmth of the fireplace. Sure. Sure, it all looked super cozy. Part of you wanted to sleep on the cold hard floor upstairs. Another part of you wanted the exact opposite.

“Listen to your friend,” Hyunjin advised. This time, he pressed his hand on your lower back, sending your mind spinning and your heart racing. His hand was so big and so warm. Just above your ass. “I’ll go get your stuff upstairs. You really need to be careful, there was a lot of swelling.” 

You almost asked Jisung to go instead but if you had to be totally honest with yourself, if someone was going to look into your luggage and see your underwear, you’d rather it was somebody who had once been intimate with it. So you just nodded. “Call me when you’re up there, I’ll guide you.”

“Does that mean you packed at the last minute and everything is chaos in your bag?” Hyunjin playfully asked. “When will you learn?”

You pushed him, limping towards a couch in a quiet corner. It was a little farther away from the fireplace and all the action, but you could use the peace, even if it was a little cool. “I don’t think you have any lessons to give me, Hwang. Just how many airpods have you lost by now? We must be at five or six pairs, right? More? When will you learn?” 

Hyunjin stuck out his tongue at you, choosing to climb upstairs instead of responding to you. You sat down, breathing deeply. You couldn’t let this go any further. You couldn’t even be his friend, not even if it somehow turned out to be true that he had never cheated on you. You couldn’t watch him fall in love with another. Certain things are just too heavy to bear. 

Jisung pretended to need something on the table to have an excuse to stand closer to you. “Looks like things are good between you t—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “There are no ‘things’ between us. I just decided to be civil, same as him. It’d be a shame to waste Minho’s weekend. He spent a lot of money on this.” 

“Hm-hm.” You heard Jisung suppress his laughter. “Sure thing.” He turned to you. “Look—I really think you two need to talk. Let me finish,” he added when he saw that you were going to interrupt him again. “I get it, he hurt you. But you don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?” 

Your phone rang in your pocket—you pulled it out only to see Hyunjin’s number appear on the screen. It had been months since you had seen it there and it made your heart flutter.

“He doesn’t look at me in any special way,” you replied, suddenly very aware of the taste of maraschino cherries lingering on your tongue. 

But Jisung was gone already, returned with the others in their quest to create the most comfortable sleeping nook known to mankind. You allowed yourself a few seconds to pretend Jisung hadn’t said anything and took the call.

“I’m with your bag,” Hyunjin said immediately. “Where’s your toothbrush?”

You tried to remember the moment when you threw everything in your luggage. “Probably at the bottom. I have a small toiletries bag. Bring the whole bag.”

You heard shuffling and brushing noises—it became obvious Hyunjin had put you on speaker, probably using the light from his phone to see inside your bag as he searched it. “Got it! What do your PJs look like?”

“It’s just a pair of dark blue shorts and a black tank top. It has a jellyfish on it.” You definitely had not planned on being seen by Hyunjin in your pajamas. You might have picked something a little more… a little less… simple. 

Or not. Because none of this mattered. He probably definitely had a girlfriend and nothing was happening. 

“Found them,” Hyunjin replied. “Love the tank top, it’s really cool. Do you want socks?”

“Yes, the fuzzy ones. Bring my underwear too.” You sighed, burying your face in your hand. 

There was a silence on the other end. Just a few seconds. “Which one? Oh, this one’s cute. With the sheep.” 

Yes of course. Out of all the panties you brought today, he had to come across the ones with a sleeping sheep pattern on them. “Sure, whichever.” You sighed. “That’s all, thanks. Oh—wait, I have a power bank too. We could charge our phones. In the left pocket I think?” 

You really had thrown everything in there at the last minute. You tried to remember a little better but Hyunjin let out a strange sound—a gasp of sorts—and it snapped you back to reality, putting all of your memories exactly where they belonged.

No. No, your power bank was not in the left pocket. 

“You still have that thing?” Hyunjin asked with an intonation that was impossible to decode. 

That thing as in the bullet vibrator he gifted you for your two-month anniversary. That thing as in, that bullet vibrator that you had put in the left pocket of your bag just in case things were a little boring up here.

Flames engulfed your head whole—you sat there, speechless, trying to find something to say. But really you were remembering the evening he gave it to you. And the things he had done to you with it that very night. Edging you and teasing you until there were tears in your eyes, until you begged him to let you cum. Playing with you using that toy and his mouth and his fingers and the tip of his cock. Sinking into you only when you were on the brink of insanity, finally giving you what you needed, fucking you into a delightful bliss. 

“Well, it still works,” you heard yourself say. “Would be a waste to throw it away.” That wasn’t even a lie—that little thing packed a punch. 

Hyunjin chuckled. “Want me to bring it to you?”

You clicked your tongue. “You’re hilarious. Maybe you want some alone time with it? If I recall well, you probably wouldn’t be against it.” And you knew that your memories were accurate—how could you forget brushing the vibrating toy up and down Hyunjin’s straining cock, slowly, languidly, just so you could collect his precum and lick it off him? 

“So funny, ha-ha-ha. Alright, be right there.” Hyunjin hung up. You stared at the dark kitchen in front of you, unable to grasp onto the thoughts that visited your mind. And yet it was all that you wanted. It was all that you needed—to figure out what was going on in your head and in your heart. 

Hyunjin came back wearing his own lounging outfit—just sweatpants and a graphic t-shirt with a hoodie, nothing unlike him. He also gave you a small, battery-powered camping light which he had found upstairs, but he barely looked at you as he handed you the pile of clothes he went to fetch. To be fair, you barely looked at him, too—it was already a lot to find yourself stuck on a snowed-in mountain with your ex, after all, and the fact that he had just gone through your stuff, panties and vibrator included, did not help, and you eagerly locked yourself in the bathroom, glad to be away from the others for a few minutes.

As you changed, it became obvious that the sleepover had already started in the living room. Jisung had apparently officially closed the door upstairs, ‘blocking’ the access to his Singles-Only night. Felix and Seungmin were arguing playfully about video games. You listened to their conversation with a smile on your lips, choosing products at random from your toiletries bag, just whatever you needed to freshen up a little. 

In truth, you knew that this uncertainty was no better than whatever had been occurring in your mind before. A discussion had been launched—only it wasn’t even a discussion. It was just Hyunjin dropping information on you without you having any chance to respond. But you had questions. You had many of them. And either you were getting answers tonight or you weren’t going to sleep at all.

As soon as you were cleaned up and cozy in your pajamas, you returned to the main room only to find Hyunjin alone in the dim kitchen, adding slices of orange into a pot on the gas stove. You looked on the other side of the cabin where both Jisung and Seungmin were sitting around Felix, who was playing on his Switch. The three of them paid no attention to you whatsoever. 

With a deep breath, you painfully made your way to the counter and sat on the nearest stool. Hyunjin glanced behind his shoulder as he stirred whatever was in the saucepan—but from here, you could smell his mulled wine. His recipe was the best you ever tasted. 

You sat in silence for a minute, trying to find the right words, realizing there were no right words. 

“It smells good,” you said in a low voice. 

“Thank you. I put loads of oranges, just the way you like it,” Hyunjin replied, turning to you. There were only a couple of candles lighting up the entire kitchen and you watched as the flames danced on his skin. “And extra honey, too.” 

It was strange. It was a little messed up. To act like this when he hadn’t seen you in months. When he had dumped you on a cold February night. 

“What you said earlier…” You averted your gaze, reliving the memory. “Was it true? Was it really really true?” 

Hyunjin frowned as he tried to understand exactly what you were referring to. “What do you mean?”

“That you didn’t cheat on me.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper. “That you didn’t want to.” 

He did not speak just yet—instead, Hyunjin grabbed two mugs and carefully filled them with warm wine using a ladle. He slid one over to you. “Careful, it’s hot.” 

You wrapped the mug with your hands to warm them up, inhaling the familiar scent. It smelled like winter nights and sitting on the balcony, dressed up from head to toe, just to drink mulled wine and kiss under the snow. 

“I swear,” Hyunjin responded, leaning on the counter on the other side of it, looking right into your eyes. “I promise you. I made mistakes—I made all the mistakes, actually, except that one.” 

You didn’t want to believe him. But you believed him. 

“I… I was so upset after what I had seen at the bakery,” Hyunjin explained. “I couldn’t believe you would cheat on me. I didn’t really believe it. I was just hurt. My mind was dark. Which is not an excuse, by the way. I’m just explaining.” 

You took the smallest sip of wine, careful not to burn your tongue. It was warm but it wasn’t hot—suddenly, you remembered Hyunjin’s ability to always serve a beverage at the right temperature. 

You did believe him—but there was another, darker question on your mind.

“Can I ask you something else?” You bravely found Hyunjin’s eyes—he tilted his head to the side, nodding as an invitation for you to go on. “What was it, then? Is it something I said, something I did? Something I didn’t do? What is it that made you fall out of love with me?” 

Hyunjin recoiled, straightening up, looking away, obviously troubled. Maybe he wasn’t ready to tell you about that yet but selfishly you didn’t care very much. You just needed to hear it from him. He would, of course, word it kindly. But you needed him to tell you about the ways you had failed him.

“Guys,” he called out, turning away and grabbing more mugs. “I made mulled wine. Who wants some?” 

“I’ll have some, thanks, man.” Seungmin pushed himself up, making his way to the kitchen to get his wine. 

As though they were waiting for someone to get up for them, Felix and Jisung asked him to bring them a cup too, causing more friendly banter.

“How’s your ankle?” Seungmin asked you while he was waiting for Hyunjin to fill the mugs—and he was really taking his time, stopping after each mug to gulp down a lot of wine as though he needed to make sure he wouldn’t remember tonight. 

“Not too bad,” you replied, your voice weak. “It could be worse.” 

“Good. Thanks a lot,” Seungmin added when Hyunjin slid a small, Santa-themed platter before him. He had placed the mugs of wine on it as well as a few chocolates. “It’s good to have you back, and I’m not saying that just because of the drinks.”

“Yeah he is saying it just because of the drinks,” Jisung said from the living room, causing more chuckles. 

Seungmin walked away, calling Jisung a few names. You focused on your own wine, drinking some more of it, but it did not have the effect you were hoping it would have. You shivered, suddenly becoming a little too aware of the lack of proper heating in the place. Everything—save for the bickering—was quiet, allowing you to hear the howling wind outside. You drank more to warm up. While you were definitely starting to feel the buzz from the drinks, you were still way too sober for this. 

“You should have brought winter clothes,” Hyunjin reprimanded but his voice was gentle. He shook his hoodie off himself, removing it and quickly resting it on your shoulders before you could say anything. “And, by the way, nothing.” 

You frowned, confused and shocked. The hoodie’s soft fabric caressed your skin, warm and comforting. It smelled like him. Like Hyunjin. You slid one arm into it, then another, unable to resist it. “Nothing what?” 

“You asked what made me fall out of love. My answer is nothing did.” Hyunjin kept himself busy by cleaning up the saucepan and stove. 

Nothing.

Nothing as in it happened without a reason? Or nothing as in he didn’t fall out of love? Those were two very different things. 

“But you broke up,” you managed, your hands trembling. 

“Because I thought it was the best thing for you.” Hyunjin left the stove, standing right next to your stool, his hair falling over his face a little. “Do you understand? It’s not something you did. You were perfect. You were… You were too good for me. Can’t you see that? It wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore. It was because I loved you that I let you go.”

A strange mix of rage and anguish rose within you. You stared at the bottom of your mug where only a little wine was left—you emptied it, still deep in your thoughts. This couldn’t possibly be happening.

“So you’re telling me,” you started, your voice low, “that you were still in love with me on that Valentine’s Day? And you broke up with me for my own good?” 

He gulped and bit his lip. It was dark but you could still see the flush on his cheeks. “Yeah.” 

You stood up, unable to stay still any longer. You went to the sink to let your empty mug soak and limped back towards the nearest window just to watch the blizzard. Hyunjin followed you quietly. 

“That decision wasn’t up to you, Hyunjin,” you whispered. “You made it, but it wasn’t yours to make. I was and still am more than capable of deciding what’s good or what’s bad for me.” You looked behind you, at this handsome man hiding behind his hair. “We were so good together and you ruined it.” 

He let out a shaky breath. “I know,” he muttered. He hesitated but not for long. “You’re the best thing that happened to me.” You turned to him, trying to see the expression on his face better. “It broke me. It took me months of therapy to feel almost like a person again. Months to realize the fact that I broke up because I felt inadequate and that instead of trying to be better, I went the cowardly way.” 

Therapy? “Hyunjin—”

He shook his head, his long hair moving with him. “I know I have no right to but I want to apologize. I’m so sorry. I’m not asking for forgiveness. Just saying sorry.” 

You listened to the room around you. There was laughter coming from the living room and the crackling of the fireplace and the wind outside. But your heartbeat was louder. He had gone to therapy? Hyunjin? 

Inadequate? 

“Hyunjin,” you breathed, reaching for his face. He flinched—barely, but he flinched, undoubtedly remembering the slap he had earned himself on that awful night. Still, you pushed a strand of his hair away, displaying his big, sad eyes. The flames of the candles flickered in the tears collecting there. You did not know what to say. “It broke me, too.” 

He pressed his lips together, holding his tears. You cupped his face briefly, just to feel him under your fingertips. When your hand retreated, he touched his cheek as though he couldn’t believe it. “I’m so sorry. It’s such a waste. It was all for nothing.” 

Any animosity you might have felt for him had melted a while ago. Your heart felt like the first day of spring with remnants of snow and puddles of water on the ground, but with a bright blue sky and the sun warming up the world again. Hyunjin had not cheated on you. He had been a little bit stupid because he did not respond well to pressure. 

He had hurt himself hurting you. 

“It wasn’t for nothing,” you replied. “I know you were so stressed because of the bar and I should have helped you more, I just didn’t know how, I should have known how. But don’t say it was for nothing. Nightcap is your baby, and—”

“No,” Hyunjin interrupted you. When you tried to insist, he shushed you more insistently and this time it was him who framed your face with his large hand, cupping your cheek, resting his thumb on your trembling lips. 

A jolt of electricity went through your body. How many times had he held you like this? Exactly like this? Seconds before he would pull you into a kiss and say something sweet or something nasty to you. Time stopped for a while—not for the rest of the world, no. The snowstorm was still raging outside and the guys were still playing in the living room and the flames were still flickering on the candles and in the fireplace. Time stopped for you and for Hyunjin only—time stopped being linear. Instead, it brought you back, just for a few instants, to the past. To the way things used to be when you were still whole. 

Hyunjin looked into your eyes as though they were a work of art in a museum that he wanted to study. His gaze trailed down to your lips, lingering there much longer than it should, before returning where it was. 

“Yes,” you insisted but your face was so warm you could feel it. “You worked so hard for it and none of what you sacrificed for it was for nothing.”

“I put it up for sale some time ago,” Hyunjin revealed, struggling to get the words out. “I don’t want it anymore.”

It would have felt the same if he had been the one to slap you in the face right then and there. You pulled away, the intimate bubble you two were in breaking instantly. You whispered an outraged cry at him. “LIKE HELL YOU’RE SELLING IT!” You pushed him away almost like he had attacked you. And he sort of had. “There’s your blood, sweat, and tears in this place, you’re not giving up on it. I forbid it.” You became aware that the living room was eerily quiet all of a sudden.

“It’s already on the market. Besides, I’m not changing my mind.” Hyunjin shrugged, looking over your shoulder to stare at the snow. “You’re wrong. What I sacrificed for it was too high a price.”

“But it was your dream.” You could not believe you were having this conversation.

“A dream can become pointless,” Hyunjin replied. “Mine did. That’s why I called Minho. I wanted to ask if he knew anyone who might be interested in buying. And if he’d have me back at the restaurant.”

“This is not happening.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is Felix in charge of selling it? FELIX?”

“There’s people in bed upstairs,” Hyunjin urged you but you were already gone—you did your best to get to the living room as quickly as possible.

Felix had paused the game, leaving his Switch on the coffee table. “What’s going on?” 

“Are you selling his bar?” Felix’s facial expression turned suspiciously contrite—he did not need to say anything, you already had your answer. “What the fuck? Isn’t he your best friend or something? How can you let him do that? Don’t you remember all the hard work he put into it? All the love? You were there, same as me!” 

Felix looked somewhere next to you where you could only suppose Hyunjin was standing. All the while, you noticed Jisung’s concerned look as he observed the scene. 

Still, it was Seungmin who spoke first. “People change their minds sometimes.” 

“But not about this,” you insisted. “This is the equivalent of a mother selling her child.” 

“Hyunjin thought long and hard about this,” Felix explained. “He tried many things, but…”

“But at the end of the day, no matter what I tried or even what my damn therapist would tell me,” Hyunjin finished for him, “the fire was gone, and it was all meaningless.” 

You found nothing to say about that. In fact you found nothing to say about anything. After letting the silence grow heavy the more time passed, Jisung tried to break the uneasiness that had infiltrated the room. “My laptop’s got a full battery,” he said. “How about we put on a movie and try to get some sleep? I bet Minho’s gonna be working in that kitchen at 5 AM tomorrow.” 

Everybody agreed a little too eagerly, however your voice still hadn’t returned. You left the guys while they were setting up the laptop and choosing a movie to retrieve your power bank in order to charge your phone overnight. Nightcap. It simply could not be gone. It made no sense—the more you thought about it the less sense it made, in fact. Hyunjin had invested a lot of money in it. Who in their right mind would waste this away? 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping next to him, sorry,” you heard Seungmin. “We all know he basically runs a marathon in his sleep every night.” 

Hyunjin clicked his tongue. “I just move around a little bit, you’re being dramatic. Fine, take this bed then.” 

The exchange brought a little bit of warmth back into you as you recalled Hyunjin’s insane sleeping habits. It’s not that he talked in his sleep or that he sleepwalked, but he would go to bed wearing something with a certain amount of blankets and wake up the next morning butt naked with only a quarter of one blanket left on the bed, covering nothing at all. It was funny but it still resulted in you being rather cold, especially during the winter months, so you had to sleep in separate blankets than him. 

God, you missed him.

You still missed him even though he was right there, just a few meters away. 

Most of the kerfuffle was over by the time you joined the living room again where the five mattresses had been laid down next to one another. Felix slept on the far left, then Seungmin, then Jisung. The next bed was empty, and the one on the far right was occupied by Hyunjin who was scrolling his phone. He looked around as you approached, realizing that nobody had taken the space beside him. 

There were three awkward seconds before he came to help you sit down to make sure you didn’t strain your ankle too much. “I’m sure Ji would trade places with you,” he told you as you sat down on the mattress. It was soft but not too much, and comfy. The blankets were smooth. 

You probably should trade places with Jisung. For your own sake. “I’m good if you are,” you said nonetheless. It must be the wine. “Besides, I’m far more used to your antics than any of these guys.”

Hyunjin let out a faint chuckle. “Do any of them know you snore?”

Your mouth fell open in utter shock. “I do not!” 

“Sometimes you do when you’re really tired,” Hyunjin recalled, lying down in his own bed. He spoke to Jisung behind you. “If it gets too annoying, you’ll have to tickle her until she wakes up and stops.” 

“How is that fair? I don’t go around and reveal all your secrets?!” You lay down too, pulling the blankets over you, immediately reaching a level of snugness not yet known to mankind. The fire was keeping the entire room warm. “I didn’t tell anybody when you cried at the movie theater watching Inside Out!” 

Felix actually spat out the water he was drinking. Seungmin begged for details but you decided to leave it there because it was funnier this way. Jisung started the movie and everyone settled in. You had already seen this movie but it was one that you liked so you paid attention, watching as well as you could from your mattress on Jisung’s laptop screen. 

It was unfortunately Jisung who fell asleep first—so much for his big sleepover. By then, your comfort levels had gone down significantly due to your sore ankle. You winced in pain, trying to stuff some of the thick blankets underneath your foot to elevate it a little. 

Hyunjin rested himself on one elbow, leaning next to you. “Are you alright?” he whispered. His breath smelled like sweet mint—he was still using the same toothpaste as he used to. “Does it hurt?” 

He was very close. Close enough that you could see the texture of his lips. “A little. It’s okay.” 

He wasted no time. “Hold on.” In less than two seconds, Hyunjin was up again and going to the freezer to fill a plastic bag with ice. 

When he returned, he kneeled down at the foot of your bed to apply the ice under your covers—he also used one of the pillows from the couch to elevate your ankle. Your heart skipped a beat every time he touched you. “Better?”

“So much better. Thanks.” 

Hyunjin nodded and looked at the other guys. With a playful roll of the eyes, he simply closed the laptop’s lid. 

“They’re all asleep. Children,” he giggled under his breath, returning to his bed. And you would not admit this to anybody but you could swear he was much closer to you than he had been before. “Goodnight. And wake me up if you need to get up. I know you’ll have to pee like a million times.” 

You elbowed him gently yet firmly. “Goodnight.” Without the laptop screen lighting up the room, the whole place seemed warmer, like amber was coating everything. 

You closed your eyes and yet you knew sleep would not find you. You were still thinking about Nightcap and what it meant for Hyunjin. 

And his arm was dangerously close to yours. If you moved even just one inch, your hand would brush his. 

After it had been agreed it was best for everybody if you two slept under separate blankets, Hyunjin had gotten into the habit of finding your hand under all of those layers separating you and holding it as the two of you drifted to sleep.

You missed him.

You missed being loved by him.

“Hyunjin,” you mouthed, your mind haunted by visions of Hyunjin behind the bar at Nightcap, mixing his kick ass drinks, chatting with his favorite regulars.

“What? Already?” He rolled on his side with a puzzled expression on his face. You had been right—his hand ghosted yours as he did so but he made sure to keep it away. “You need to get your kidneys looked at.” 

“Oh shut up, I don’t need to pee.” You rolled on your side too so you would face him. “You can’t sell Nightcap.” 

His eyes darkened. He licked his teeth, sighing. “I’m selling Nightcap. Case closed. Now, sleep.” He closed his eyelids, almost like a child would when they pretended to sleep. 

You tugged at the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Don’t play with me. Look at me in the eyes, Hyunjin, and tell me you no longer want to have your own bar.” 

It took a while but Hyunjin yielded, opening his eyes, his gaze finding yours. He stared at you then slid even closer—he was on the very edge of his mattress. “I no longer want to have my own bar.”

“But why? Everything you did… It’s the best damn bar in town.” The conversation was barely audible and yet you two understood each other perfectly. “I know it isn’t easy, but you can do this.” 

Hyunjin held his breath for a few seconds. “Nobody ever believed in me as much as you did,” he muttered, dejected. 

You clicked your tongue. “Bullshit. That isn’t true. Everyone believed and still believe in you. Felix! And Minho, Chan, Changb—”

He shook his head, disagreeing. “No. I mean. Yes, but it’s not the same. They believed in my business, in my drinks and in my chances at building something good. But you, you believed in me.”

It pulled the air out of your lungs—you stayed there, motionless, your gaze slowly blurring as tears pricked at your eyes. You hated this. You hated all of this.

You hated speaking in the past tense with Hyunjin. 

“I still do,” you managed, exhaling shakily. You closed your eyes in the hopes it would stop you from crying. 

It did not. You tried burying your face into your pillow but Hyunjin was quicker—you jumped a little when he touched you, wiping your tears with the back of his fingers before caressing your cheek with his thumb. A strong chill went through your spine, tickling you all over your body. Especially between your legs. 

Oh fuck. 

“See? It’s just how I said. Nobody believes in me the way you do,” Hyunjin whispered. He must have gotten closer because you could feel his breath on the damp skin of your face. “I’m selling Nightcap because it lost its meaning. I was not quite enough for it back when I had you by my side. Now that I’m alone, I’m properly inadequate.” 

You opened your eyes not minding the tears anymore. You couldn’t shake this anger inside you. “You gave up on me,” you said. “And now you’re going to give up on your dream, too?” 

Hyunjin remained quiet for an instant, his gaze dancing from your eyes to your lips to his hand, still very close to yours. “I had the idea for Nightcap when I realized I was in love with you and I didn’t think you would ever return my feelings,” Hyunjin explained. “I couldn’t stand the idea of working at the same place as you. It was torture. But by some miracle, you did fall in love with me. Nightcap—that dream—and you became intertwined in my head. Don’t you get it? The tables have turned now—I can’t stand being in a place where you are not.” 

He wiped your tears again, taking his time, caressing your lips. The tingling came back in your extremities while a distracting pressure pulled at your loins. You had to resist the urge to kiss his hand. You had to resist the urge to forget all the pain you had been through and kiss him.

“Can I please ask you something? Just one thing,” Hyunjin went on, tucking your hair behind your ear like he used to. “But only tell me the truth. If you’re going to say anything but the truth I don’t want to hear it.”

You nodded, wondering if he could feel your pulse through your skin. 

“Have you been happy? Have you been living a good life, falling in love, making friends, enjoying each day?” 

This hurt a whole lot more than your sprained ankle. This hurt more than a blade through the heart. A blade through the heart was swift, merciful. This was more like a serrated knife wielded by some psychopath. Your reflex was to retreat both of your arms underneath your blankets as though it would protect you.

The truth. “I’ll tell you if you tell me,” you chose to say. 

He thought about it. “No. I haven’t been happy, but it’s a bit better with the meds that the psychiatrist prescribed.” He licked his lips, a slight frown appearing between his brows. “There hasn’t been anybody else. Your turn now.”

He was single? Not just single—he hadn’t seen anyone else since last Valentine’s Day? Hyunjin? This young god? Business owner? Handsome as hell? Charming without even trying to be? How could it even be?

You took some time to ponder over it. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what it felt like to be happy. I remember moments of it, but it’s like they happened to somebody else, or like I saw it in a movie. My heart forgot how to be anything but heavy.” 

This seemed to make him sad. “Have you fallen in love?” 

Your body was warm under the blankets but you refused to take off Hyunjin’s hoodie. You let his scent invade you. You let it remind you of the first time he kissed you.

“No. My heart forgot how to do that, too.” 

Hyunjin said nothing but his eyes did not leave you. You felt his hand sneak underneath your covers, searching for yours—he held it when he found it, squeezing it gently. “Sleep,” he whispered. 

Muscle memory is one hell of a thing. Despite the turmoil within you and despite the unexpected fire between your legs, the familiar feeling of your hand in Hyunjin’s, joined together under a separate layer of blankets, appeased you. Or maybe it was the wine. And the drink before that. But your eyelids became heavy and your chest a little lighter. 

Maybe it was just a dream, but you felt Hyunjin press his lips on your forehead, whispering inaudible things as you surrendered to sleep.

Maybe it was just a dream.

to be continued...

Note: Happy holidays everyone! I have been working on this for a while and as I mentioned in the masterlist, I truly intended on releasing everything as a one-shot for Christmas. Unfortunately there have been complications at work and I had to pick up a few additional shifts... So instead of rushing or not finishing it on time, I've separated the story in two parts!

It was great to revisit bartender hyun<3 it made me very nostalgic from the period of time when I originally wrote Just stay with me. I'd like to say thank you to all of my readers, of course, but especially those who have been sticking around with me since then or even before! But thank you to everyone and to those who give me and my stories some love. Thank you for your kind words and for supporting me. I appreciate it <3

I will try to release part two asap!! Let's pray that things settle down at work.. You guys take care!

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[hyvneluv]

I Dare You

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

➺ Genre: Smut, 1% plot 99% disgusting

➺Summary: Eat a sex chocolate before the party he said. It'll be fun he said.

➺ Word Count: 3.8k

➺🩶A/N: This is like a beginner piss kink fic lol it's filthy but if piss fics aren't usually your thing then this one is calm enough for you to dip your toe in the water. It's just subtle enough for those who like calm scenes (At least it is in my opinion. I could've made this WAY more intense 😭) + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy!

➺ Warnings: Piss , Squirting, Fingering, Oral (M receiving), Use of an Aphrodisiac, Car sex (Please be safe, don't nut and drive), Appearance by + mentions of Changbin [I think that's all] - Again, this is a piss kink fic. It's subtle but there is piss.

➺Request: Yes - No

✧Masterlist✧

It was a dare, a stupid dare that you’re currently regretting as you down your fourth glass of champagne. The burn of your heels pressing into the balls of your feet could hardly compare to the ache you felt between your legs. You stood at the bar, lips pulled into a thin line as the sound of some slowed R&B song swirled through the air. You wanted to dance and have a good time with the rest of your friends but you just couldn’t, not like this. As you took in the moving bodies in the middle of the room your eyes landed on his, your friend. The one who started all of this.

To be fair you should’ve known better than to listen to Hyunjin, he’s always up to something. You knew when he handed you that damned chocolate that it was a bad idea. “It’ll be fun, come on, I dare you. It’ll only make you a little horny.” 

You knew better, you knew that taking a damn aphrodisiac before a party was a messy move. Especially since you’re here with Hyunjin. Your friends are always teasing the two of you, asking why you’re so close or why he’s always over at your place and spending the night. They blame all of Hyunjin’s unexplained hickies on you. It’s to the point where everyone that knows the two of you thinks that you’re fucking. And they’re right, you are. 

“Is he allowed to do that?” Changbin sneaking up next to you pulls your attention away from Hyunjin, basically dry humping some girl on the dance floor. The smirk on his face said it all, he’s trying to get you worked up. Contrary to what everyone else might think you're not the jealous type, neither of you are. You’re more than happy to share.

“You mean is my friend allowed to dance with girls?” You steal a glance back towards Hyunjin, he’s so close to her. Is he going to kiss her? Will you be able to contain yourself if he does? You press your thighs together at the thought of it. “Of course he is.”

“When will you two admit that you’re dating?” The smirk on Changbin’s face as he stares down at you, drink in his hand and that damned black shirt stretched over his chest and biceps just right makes you feel something that you never have towards him. Of course he’s hot, you always thought that but right now the thought of having him bend you over this bar and fuck you dumb in the middle of this party is all that is looping through your head. 

“If we were dating.” You turn to him, stepping so close that your chest is practically pressed against his. “This would be a problem.” The glass in your hand is quickly forgotten on the bar as you ghost your fingers up Changbin’s arm and rub over his strong shoulder. “But it’s not, look.”

He breaks your gaze for a second, glancing over to Hyunjin who’s way too busy swapping spit with the pretty black haired girl to notice you trying to seduce his friend. 

“So you’re not dating him?” His glassy eyes search yours, you’re both clearly tipsy. 

“Nope.” The feeling of Changbin’s hand on your waist makes you moan involuntarily. You need something, anything, to take the edge off. Every little touch makes you feel like you could come undone. He leans in and ghosts his lips against your neck. You gasp and your lips part, your eyes rolling back in your head and your body arching into him. How can something this small make you feel so hot?

“How drunk are you? You’re so sensitive.” The breath of his whisper sends chills down your spine. 

“I’m not drunk.” Changbin pulls back enough to meet your gaze.

“What are you then? I touched you and you moaned.”  You blush and look away. Your bold attitude has abandoned you tonight. 

 "I'm just really turned on." He smirks and pulls back completely, leaving you wanting more. His gaze shifts over to Hyunjin quickly before meeting your pleading eyes again.

“You want help taking care of that?”  His dark eyes twinkle in the ambient party lighting and you can’t help but to feel needy for him or anyone else at this point. It’s a surprise that your arousal isn’t dripping down your legs. A nod and a not so subtle lip bite is all that you offer him before he cups your face and pulls you closer. You close your eyes as he leans in.

“I need to hear you say yes.” The brush of his lips against yours as he whispers against your lips pulls another whimper from you. 

“Yes, please help me, Binnie. Please.” His lips are pressing to yours in an instant. Hungry and sweet just how you needed him to be. You melt into his touch, sighing into the kiss and pressing your thighs together with all of the force that you have in you. His lips are so soft, how would they feel sucking on your - wait, who’s pressing into your back? A large hand glides up your thigh and over the curve of your hip, squeezing the fabric of your tight skirt as it rides up a bit. You could recognize his touch any day, it never fails to light your whole body on fire. 

“So horny you had to beg my friend to fuck you?” How long has Hyunjin been there? How much did he hear? Do you even care? You push back into him, grinding against his hard bulge. “Do I need to take you home?”

A whine escapes you as Changbin pulls away from you, a smile on his plump glossy lips as he looks between you two. “So you are dating.” You grab Changbin’s wrist as he tries to move his hand from your waist. You want more, you need it so badly. So desperately. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Hyunjin shakes his head, wrapping his other arm around your waist and splaying his fingers over your stomach. “But she is mine.”

“I knew it.” Changbin picks up his drink from the bar, shaking his head at the two of you. 

“It looks like you’re taken care of.” He nods towards Hyunjin who smiles at him and mutters a quick good-bye to his friend. He doesn’t care if Changbin kissed you because he’s the one who will be balls deep in your cunt soon. You frown watching Changbin walk away but the feeling of Hyunjin’s lips on your neck makes the world around you fade away. He hasn’t even done anything to you and you can already feel the fucked out fog setting in.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

You usually didn’t mind going to parties that were a bit further from your apartment but right now you hated it. Every second that passed with Hyunjin’s hand rubbing at your thigh made you want to explode. He wasn’t doing any better, he kept shifting in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He’s just as desperate and needy as you, he just seems to be handling it better.

“How was it?” His voice snapped you out of your dirty daydream. How long have you been staring out of the window?

“What?”

“Kissing Changbin.” His eyes stay on the road and his voice is calm despite the uncomfortable strain of his cock against his jeans.

“It was good, really good.” All he offers is a smirk as he shifts again. Did he think it was hot? Did he enjoy seeing you kiss his friend? “How about that girl? How was she?”

“Eh, she really likes using tongue. I only like doing that with you.” 

Before you can stop yourself your mind is wandering to the moment right before the party when you and Hyunjin both started feeling the effects of the chocolate. His hands were in your hair and yours were up his shirt as your tongues explored each other's mouths in the front seat of the car. You were on top of him, straddling his growing erection and grinding your dripping core against the rough denim of his jeans. You both almost decided to leave the party, you were seconds away from turning right around and going home so he can fuck you senseless but when you asked him he gave you that devious smile. “What? Are you scared you’ll be too horny for the party? I dared you remember? You can do it, come on.” 

“Hyunjin.” You spread your legs a bit in your seat. The cool air hitting the wet spot on your panties sent a shiver through you. You feel so antsy and needy, desire is crawling wildly under your skin and you can’t take another second of it. You need him. “Jinnie, will you please touch me?” 

He stole a quick glance your way. Hissing through clenched teeth when he noticed the wet spot on your gray panties. “Baby, I’m driving.” His hand stayed on your thigh, it squeezed the soft flesh much harsher than he meant to but you enjoyed every second of it. You hiked your skirt up your thighs until it slipped over the curve of your ass, resting around your waist and leaving your wet cotton panties exposed. 

“Jinnie look ‘m so wet for you, please.” You’ve never felt as desperate as you do right now. Your nipples are pebbled underneath your shirt, your clit is swollen and the only thought in your head is having Hyunjin on you. You want him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Any and all of him. “I can’t wait, I need you, look what you did to me.”

You hook your finger into the gusset of your panties and lift it up and over just as Hyunjin glances over at your core. The sight before him could’ve made him swerve off of the road if he didn’t have any self control. You’re soaked, strings of sticky arousal are connecting your panties to your pussy and all he wants to do is lick up every drop of that sweet slick from your folds. 

“Fuck.” His hand moves from your thigh to rub over his aching erection. “I did that to you, angel? You’re soaked for me? Want my cock to fuck you dumb?” He bites his lip, a moan falling from his parted lips as he nearly misses his turn.

“Move your panties a bit more, let me feel you.” If there were an award for keeping your cool while driving as horny as a pornstar, Hyunjin would definitely win it. His driving is smooth, he’s barely missing a single sign, and his eyes are trained on the road while his pointer and middle finger circle soft figure eights over your erect clit. “Want my fingers in this pussy?”

He trails down and teases your entrance, just barely giving you the tip of his finger. Your head falls back against the seat and Hyunjin thanks his lucky stars that he’s approaching a traffic light. When he stops and looks over at you, he thinks that you couldn’t be more beautiful. Your eyebrows are pinched together and your pretty eyes are glistening with tears that threaten to fall from your puffy lids. Your lipstick is smudged ever so slightly while your bottom lip is caught firm between your teeth. Your arms are hooked under your knees to give him better access to your sopping cunt. A true masterpiece.

“Beg me to fill you with my fingers, baby. You have until the light changes.” 

“Please let me feel your fingers, Hyunjin. I’ll be so good for you, I’ve been so good. I’ll suck your cock when we get home, I promise. Please, please, please Jinnie. I n-need you, I need you to fuck my pussy open. I need to be stretched for you. This pussy is yours and I need you to fuck it. I w-want it. I-I’ll be so good for you I’ll -” A smile spreads wide across his face as he listens to you babble and beg so mindlessly. You trip over almost every word as your pussy clenches around nothing. He couldn’t help but to chuckle, not the cute kind that brings you comfort. No, this was the dark one, the one that means that he’s going to ruin you once he gets the chance.

“Light changed.” His fingers breach your entrance at the same time that his foot lets up on the brake. “Such a good little pornstar. Begging for my fingers in the car.”

“F-fuck, fuck fuckfuck oh my - my fuck.” Nothing makes sense in your head, you’re not even sure what you’re saying. Are you breathing? Once his long fingers curled into your g-spot the mist in your brain turned into a blinding dark fog. It feels so good, he feels so good. His fingers fuck into you at just the right pace, you can feel your arousal running down your inner thigh as he brings you closer to the edge. Your brows pinch together as another feeling sneaks up on you. An aching pressure that you were barely aware of before but can not seem to ignore now. “Hyun-Hyunjin wait I- gotta, gotta pee.” 

You meant to use the bathroom before the two of you left but Hyunjin rushed you out of the party so quickly that you forgot. “Go ahead, make a mess for me.”

The two of you were no stranger to water sports but you’ve never done such a thing in his car. “Are you-” You cut yourself off with a moan and Hyunjin nods, already knowing what you’re going to ask, he’s more than sure. 

“Make a mess for me, angel. I want your piss on my leather seats. Can you do that for me? Squirt and piss all over my car.” What left your lips was barely a moan, it was more like a desperate cry as he abused your sweet spot. “Come on, baby. Show me how good it feels.” 

You’re way too concentrated on the pleasure burning through you to notice that the car just stopped. Hyunjin found a relatively dark and empty lot to stop in so he could enjoy the show. If there’s one thing that he loves it’s when you two get messy. He’s the happiest when you're squirting all over his cock or pissing while you ride his thigh or his face. 

He keeps a steady pace while his thumb flicks over your swollen clit, milking everything you have to offer from you. His free hand rubbed over his clothed cock as he watched you with dark low lidded eyes. He wants nothing more than to fuck his fist to the sight of you but he choses to build himself up instead. He wants to bust inside of you, filling you to the brim with his sticky seed. 

“C-cumming I’m - I’m cumming i’m cumming.” He curls his fingers into you, milking your fluttering walls as a rush of arousal squirts from your swollen cunt. He pulls his fingers out, rubbing his four fingers over your cunt and making a mess of your fluids. 

“Piss all over me, baby. That’s it.” The pressure in your bladder lets up as you let go. A mixture of squirt and piss coated the windshield and radio in front of you as Hyunjin rubbed at your pussy. “Gimme another one.” 

His fingers are plugging your hole again before you can protest. “Jin- Jinnie so good ‘s so g-good.” If you were watching yourself from the outside looking in you wouldn’t be able to recognize the babbling mess in the passenger seat as yourself. You’ve been needy before but you’ve never been this fucked out and foggy. What the hell was in that chocolate? “Cum, cum, gonna- fuck.”

You’re squirting all over his hand again, your moans and cries fill the car and Hyunjin is absolutely positive that you’d have a full audience if there were anyone nearby with the way that you’re screaming for him. “That’s my fucking pornstar right there, look at this fucking mess baby. You’re soaked in your own cum and piss. So nasty for me.” He watches in delight as you tremble and moan, your body shaking as you come down from your high.

“More, more please please please. Let me have your cock. I wan’ suck it, let me please.” He smirks as you beg for him, your body trembling against the damp leather of the seat and your mouth wide open in pleasure. 

“If you touch me I’ll fucking bust.” You unbuckle your seatbelt hastily. Climbing up to your knees with the grace of a baby deer against the soaked seat. “You just can’t wait huh? Need to taste my cum?”

You nod, fucked out and frantic as you lean over the middle console and fumble with his belt buckle. He leans back, one hand tracing your spine lightly while the other rests behind his head. He loves watching you be dumb and needy for him, he doesn't get to see it often so he came up with the dare to get what he wanted. He knew what the chocolate would do to you, he’s taken it before and he knows how bad it can get. When he showed it to you and you said that you’d try it someday he got excited. He was curious if it could get him his desired outcome. He wanted to know if it’ll make you his brainless slut, looks like it worked. 

“Come on, angel gotta get my cock in your mouth.” You whine at his teasing, licking your lips and fumbling with frustration until you finally free his rock hard dick from his jeans, no boxers underneath for easy access of course. You hum at the sight of it, immediately licking up the pre-cum leaking from the angry tip. “Shit.”

The hand that was once behind his head grabs a handful of your hair and he tries his best to contain himself. He didn’t want to let his guard down yet, he’s been waiting until you get home but your pretty warm mouth wrapped around his cock just might make him as needy as you are. “Baby, baby, baby you’re gonna make me nut. I’m gonna cum down that pretty tight throat, fuck.”

You take all of him, allowing his tip to abuse the back of your throat as you moan around him. “Oh, I want to be that deep in your fucking cunt. You gonna let me? Gonna let me ruin that pussy when we get to your place?” He’s practically fucking your throat now as his hips thrust up involuntarily. He can’t help but chase the pleasure. You feel so good and he’s five times more sensitive than he usually is. 

“Swallow around that cock, swallow my dick. Yes, fuck yes just like that, that’s my girl.” The moment that your throat contracts around him he can feel himself tipping over the edge. With his head thrown back, a death grip in your hair and his eyes shut tight he slurs dirty promises into the air while shooting ropes of cum down your throat.

“Swallow it, take all my fucking cum. Oh shit, baby swallow every drop of my fucking seed. You’re such a slut letting me - fuck - letting me make a mess in this tiny throat. Fucking hell I’m so addicted to you.” You swirl your tongue around his shaft and tip as you lift up off of him. A single string of spit connects you to his cock but it’s swiftly broken when Hyunjin grabs your chin and pulls you in for a kiss. Your tongues explore each other's mouths as you swallow each other’s moans. 

 Your hand wraps around Hyunjin’s cock, still hard as a rock, milking a deep moan from him as he pulls away from your swollen lips, you watch Hyunjin's eyes roll back in pleasure. He runs his hands through your hair, as he pants and stares into your eyes. He’s just as cloudy and fucked out as you are now. All that’s going through his head is you. He needs to feel you, to fuck you dumb until you fall apart on his cock and soak the mattress with your cum.

“S-stop, baby.” His words barely make it past his clenched teeth but even if they did you wouldn’t have listened. “Stop.” This time the hiss in his voice catches your attention. He grabs your wrist, ripping you away from his cock.

“I need to get you home.” His dark eyes bore into yours. The intense lustful energy swirling around the two of you and fogging the windows makes you feel dizzy as you  listen to him. “Sit.”

You obey immediately, sitting back in your wet seat and shivering at the cool damp feeling. Hyunjin fixes himself but he doesn’t allow you to do the same. “You were just pumping my cock like a desperate slut, so sit there like a messy whore for me, okay? Keep that pretty pussy on display.”

A cock drunk smile pulls at your lips as you fasten your seat belt and settle into your seat. It doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to pull off, driving at the exact speed limit in hopes that he can get home quick and safe. You’re not too far from your apartment, it hasn’t been more than ten minutes since your last orgasm but it feels like it’s been forever since you’ve felt his hands on you. He’s noticed you shifting in your seat and rubbing your hands up and down your thighs, desperate for any type of attention. A smile adorns his flushed features as he gets closer to your place. 

“Angel, I know what can keep you busy.” His eyes stay on the road but yours immediately fly over to him, scanning his features as you listen closely. 

“Touch yourself and tell me everything that you wanted Changbin to do to you. Tell me all the dirty thoughts you had when he had his hands on my girl.” You push your thighs together, squirming in your seat. You had completely forgotten about your kiss with Changbin and how desperate you were to feel his hands on you and have him inside of you. 

“Hyunjin I don’t know if I can handle that, I just want you, baby.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. 

“I won’t touch you anymore unless you do it.” You whine, throwing a tantrum against your seat. Hyunjin’s hand grabs your thigh, squeezing the flesh harshly and warning you to stop. With a smile on his face he glances over at you. You’re only four blocks away from your apartment.

“Come on, baby. I dare you.”

[hyvneluv]

Our names are kinda similar =)) twins

Omg Ur Right hahahaah hello twin

[hyvneluv]

serpent hybrid hyunjin 2 🌱🐍

his venom doesn't have the effects to kill you, instead you find your body craving for him...and his eggs

@seo--changbin gave me brainrot

reblogging > liking

part 1

-contains mature themes (idk wtf possessed me while thinking of breeding and monster cocks aaaa)

its been a while since changbin's come over to your apartment. the rabbit hybrid had grown buffer. stronger, with his muscles quite literally bulging from his armsleeves.

hyunjin and him being the best of friends. an unusual friendship between a serpent and his prey.

lithe and tall versus buff and small.

you couldn't help but ogle at bin's wide upper body, sipping on some tea while you listened to their conversation.

it only lasts for a few minutes, and you stare at hyunjin. taking in the sight of your boyfriend. his scales shining under the light. the newly grown scales on his collarbones giving him a sleeker appearance.

you gulped, watching his long slender tail swish around mindlessly on the floor. eyes wandering to the way he sat on the couch.

legs parted and maybe...just maybe you could see the outline of his length. well his 'lengths'. mentally slapping yourself as you tried to look away.

"hyun...need your help" you say, already going to the kitchen. smiling at changbin. hearing hyunjin saunter into the other room without even questioning why you were calling him there.

"you look too handsome. kiss me."

grabbing his collar, pulling him down to kiss you. a surprised noise leaving him but he laughs. giving you a firm kiss.

"should we buy some pizza for dinn-"

you cut him off, with another kiss. looping your arms around his neck to jump on him. he holds you up, groaning at the sudden eagerness.

firmly squeezing your thighs. pulling away to press a palm over your mouth.

"whats up with you?" he cocks an eyebrow. truly confused with your behaviour.

you bring your hands up to touch his lips. poking his canines. they had grown longer, much sharper.

"not now. later." he lets out. and you feel your mind shut off with how sternly he warns you. whining into his neck.

its only when bin leaves that you realise why you're feeling so desperate.

were you ovulating?

was it just him being hot?

a part of you wondered if it was because he playfully bit you in the morning?

"come here." hyunjin calls out after an hour. finding you sprawled out on the bed with no thoughts in your brain.

standing at the edge of the bed, with his hands on his hips.

"i think you made me horny..." you mumble, staring at the ceiling. lower abdomen burning with want.

he hisses softly.

"this is not normal horny...this is horny on another level..."

glancing at him and you close your thighs. panties soaked. every part of your body screaming for him.

"is it cause i bit you?" hyunjin asks.

his tail wrapping around your ankle casually. and he pulls you closer to him. the display of strength leaving you breathless.

"you're a black mamba. shouldn't i die if you inject me with venom?" you whisper, unconciously spreading your legs apart.

watching as his eyes go down to your panties. the shirt you had on was his.

"so you're saying my venom is actually a 'fuck me please' aphrosidiac ?" hyunjin lets out, letting his finger prod over your panties. feeling how wet you were getting.

"hyun....give it to me"

"give what to you, baby?"

"give me it all"

"what all do you mean, sweetheart?"

"your babies...your e-eggs"

and hyunjin chokes on his spit. the grip his tail has on your leg tightens. watching you with a sharp gaze. tongue peeking out every few seconds . tasting the air.

"god, whats wrong with you" and he pulls you closer.

using the tip of his tail to push your panties to the side. hissing at how you're practically dripping. a mess between your thighs.

"h-hyunjinnn"

"mh?" tail slipping and sliding against your slit. bumping into your clit. chuckling at the way your legs close around it. but he continues poking at your cunt.

"hyunjin!" you whine, awkwardly trying to grind onto his appendage. gasping when he forces your legs apart.

the same musky smell filling the room. his tongue growing longer, fangs peeking through.

"fuck. my heat's creeping up on me" he groans, dropping his head down to exhale heavily. his scales appearing more bolder.

"your smell...you smell fucking delicious" and you whimper. watching as he tastes the air, eyes closing.

"are you gonna eat me mister snake?" you tease nervously. squeaking at the expression he makes.

obviously turned on with you acting so hopeless.

a predator and his prey.

.

.

.

writhing at the mere slide of his girth against your insides. bumps on his length hooking onto your walls.

forcing him to thrust into you with short movements. gripping your thighs with clawed fingers. leaving his marks on your body.

"yeah? i don't usually fuck my prey before eating them whole" the serpent grunts.

a long hiss slipping past his lips. throwing his head back at the feeling of your cunt pulling him in. squeezing his dicks and coating them with arousal.

"h-hyun" you cry, body overheating with how much you wanted. this wasn't enough. you needed to feel him in your cervix.

this wasn't how you'd act. was it really his venom?

"shhh~" as he sits on his haunches. fucking into you harder. his pupils turning into pretty slits. taking in the sight of your body reacting so well to him.

shivering when he places a claw on your breastbone. gently sliding it down to where your uterus would be. and he draws slow circles over the skin.

"want me here, don't you~" and you nod aggressively, not expecting him to slide his finger lower.

placing the pad of his calloused finger over your clit gently. his thrusts having you slide up on the bed and back down.

"you'll take my eggs like a good mate would, won't you, my precious.."

gathering your slick and pinching at your swollen bundle of nerves.

grinning lazily when you let out a little scream. squirming at his tortorous teasing. cooeing as you beg for him.

hands flying down to weakly hold onto his wrist. but he's strong and only flicks your clit meanly.

.

.

.

to say its a weird sensation is an understatement. his hand intertwined with yours, calming you down as one of his dick throbs.

stuffed so deep inside you that when you feel the first egg, its another sensation of fullness.

filling you with more cum while he pumps another into you. maybe soft shelled eggs weren't that bad.

the third egg, however makes you whine at the stretch. a tinge of discomfort.

gasping at how his tail seems to have a mind of its own. wrapping around your ankle and quite literally spreading your legs apart. hooking your left leg over his shoulder.

"m'here. f-fuck taking me so well" hyunjin praises. pressing down on your lower abdomen. revellling in the way you keep it in.

"no venom for you next time" he chuckles, and you breath heavily. overwhelmed with everything. body buzzing with pure pleasure and satisfaction.

"m-more" you tease. laughing at how his eyes widen. going back to normal.

"MORE?!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

plz i love snakie hyunnie so much. its an obsession at this point. soft serpent hyunnie drabble coming soon hopefullyyyy

[hyvneluv]

Update… Amsterdam and Paris and London secured ✨❣️

Ticketing tmr how we feeling

[hyvneluv]

Ticketing tmr how we feeling

[hyvneluv]

Drowned

siren!hyunjin x afab!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of drinking, descriptions of drowning, unprotected sex (do not), monster cock, fingering (f and m receiving), oral (f receiving), creampie

genre: pirate/siren AU, found family trope, fluff, monster (?) smut, a little bit of angst

word count: 8.2k

author's note: started thinking about merman hyunjin, wanted to write a little something, it got out of hand. voilá. seriously, this is the longest thing i've ever written so i'd really appreciate to hear what you think! please let me know if there's any mistakes or if i overlooked something <3 happy reading 💙

masterlist

divider by @firefly-graphics

For as long as you lived, the sea was your home. The salty wind in your hair, the water splashing against the sides of your parent’s ship and freedom in your heart. Never have you wanted for more, the crew and everything else that was on board was always enough.

Sure, every now and then you had to get rough with other pirates or relieve some rich folk of their valuables but regardless of that, you wouldn’t change your life for the world. You never had a worry on your mind except maybe what’s for dinner that day, enjoying a nice sunbath on the deck, messing with some of the lower standing crew members that were close to your heart or going fishing with your mother whenever you were docked on some harbor.

Today was no different. Maybe a little different, since your father had tasked you with checking out one of the local rich men’s houses. Your boots carried you to the wealthy district where you earned your share of people eyeing you with disdain but you didn’t mind, smiling toothily at them and waving which just left them perplexed by your friendliness.

You whistled lowly at the sight of the mansion, gold decorations shimmering on the façade, lush greenery surrounding the entire building.

Kind of impressive.

The fence was hopped easily and you found your way into the mansion. No one was home so you figured there was no point in trying to stay low. You scanned through most of the main rooms, snatching up anything that looked valuable enough to you. With your pockets and bag full, you strolled over to what seemed to be a room where whoever lived here kept all of their valuable paintings and other art finds.

You stood in front of one particularly impressive artwork. While others would surely admire the stroke pattern, the colors used or the fascinating woodwork on the frame, you simply ascertained that the painting was small enough to carry out and still be able to run with. So you grinned to yourself as you removed the painting from the wall and leisurely made your way out of the house again.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way back to the ship, signaling for the crew to get ready to leave the harbor.

“Halt! She’s a thief!”

Oh well. Took them long enough.

You broke out in a sprint, painting secured beneath your arm. Your father was already barking out orders, readying the ship to take off as soon as they can, while some of the local police is hot on your trail.

You giggled as you climbed onboard right as the ship began its movement towards the horizon. With big motions you waved to the people left behind, all of them fuming for having lost the race against you.

-

The island was no longer to be seen, your parents were proud and your little family had plenty of stuff to sell for the next dock. You couldn’t be happier.

To reward yourself for your hard work today, you decided to lounge about in the sun. The waves rocked you until you fell fast asleep.

So deeply asleep that you didn’t wake up when the outlook yelled about another ship approaching yours.

So deeply asleep that you only woke up when the first canonball tore through the flimsy wood of the ship you called home.

Your heart was beating erratically as you struggled to make sense of your surroundings, everyone onboard in a panicked hurry. Some men running around trying to fight off the opponents that were starting to invade your space, the others below deck firing back with whatever they had, some others trying to keep the rising water out of the ship, refusing to let it sink just like that.

You grabbed your own sword and jumped to your father’s side.

“Seems like you angered the wrong gentlemen this time around!” – he laughed as his sword clashed with another.

“It was your stupid idea!” – you countered, equally finding amusement in the familiar situation and laughing.

The fight seemed to be on your side for a moment, countless stuck-up lawmen falling into the harsh waters while your side held their numbers up. But not everything always goes the way you want it to, one misstep and everything can fall apart quickly. So when the blade slashed through your side, you sucked in a breath and stumbled backwards against the railing, a man twice your size giving you the last push you needed to tip over, the cold water enveloping your whole body.

You struggled to keep your head above the waters, gasping for air but breathing in more water than anything sustainable. Your body bumped into those of others that had met the same fate as you, making the entire process of trying to stay alive harder than it needed to be. The side of your torso ached with every movement and soon enough, the strength left your limbs as you slowly but surely sunk deeper into the depths of the sea, unaware of someone that observed your descent with curious eyes.

The first thing you notice when you come to your senses again is that you feel incredibly warm.

The second thing you notice is a pair of curious eyes staring down at you.

“Oh” – he moves out of your sight before you can properly take the rest of his appearance in but one thing is abundantly clear to you: pupils should not be shaped like his, nor should eyes be as yellow as his.

You sit upright as soon as you can, wincing at the sharp pain in your side. The pain is all but forgotten when you take in the otherworldly creature sitting timidly at the edge of a stone not far from you.

He is nervously picking at his fingers while gazing at you, the space between each finger connected by a thin membrane akin to some sea creatures you know. There are tiny little scales scattered around his skin that shimmer in various shades in the light, ranging from the deepest onyx, powdery sky blue, brilliant gold and pearl white. The most alarming thing about his body is the very obvious fish tail where his legs should be, decorated in the same colors as the rest of his scales with smaller, elegantly shaped fins on the sides of it. It seemed to be longer than whatever the stories made you picture in your mind. When your gaze wanders back up his body, taking note of how the scales fade into normal skin and just being scattered here and there, you notice the gills on each side of his neck, fluttering softly with each breath he takes. His impressively broad back had another line of fins across his spine. Finally settling your gaze on his face, framed by luscious black locks, you can see he has another set of large fins on the side of his head, probably protecting his ears. His eyes shine a shimmery yellow with a fitting cat-like pupil that’s slightly dilated as he’s taking your form in. A slight blush covers his cheeks, the miniscule fins along his cheekbones fluttering.

He is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life.

When he opens his plush lips to say something, you can see his teeth are a set of fangs, his canines larger and sharper than the others which seem kind of blunt in comparison.

“Do you feel pain?” – his voice comes out shyly, an underlying trill accompanying the sound.

Suddenly, you remember you are supposed to be in pain, immediately clutching the side that was slashed during the fight but finding it neatly bandaged with algae and scraps of cloth. He must have taken care of you while you were unconscious.

Surprisingly, all that’s left is a dull pain that pulsates along your heartbeat, nothing too bad. As you tell him this, he seems pleased, a proud little smile on his lips.

“You are a pirate, yes?”

“Yeah. We got attacked and then…” – you trail off and look around.

You’re clearly on some shore but it doesn’t seem like any civilisation is nearby, the air devoid of any sounds that indicate humans are nearby, just the soft crashing of the waves, the wind in the trees and the calls of animals. There isn’t any harbor, no boats in sight, the beautiful creature sitting beside you the only sign of intelligent life.

A sigh leaves your lips, already wracking your brain for any ideas on how to get back to the mainland or contact your family. For a second earlier, you thought that you found your end as you stared into the creature’s eyes. So sure were you that what you saw in front of you must have been one of the legendary sirens that your mother always told you about. Creatures that lure in pirates and sailors alike with their beautiful appearance and mesmerising voices, only to drag them into the depths of the sea, killing them.

Whatever was in front of you, curiously holding up the painting that you stole, big eyes roaming over the faded paint, couldn’t be a man-killing siren for he was far too soft and gentle to be anything like those legends said he would be.

It was honestly kind of cute watching him take in the ruined painting, completely captivated by the swirling colors, his tail gently splashing in the water in quiet excitement.

He seemed to be no threat, so you let your guard down easily beside him.

“Do you have a name?” – you ask him finally, breaking his concentration on the painting, yet he doesn’t look away from it.

“Hyunjin.”

“Well, thank you, Hyunjin. For saving me. I’m y/n.”

The tips of his ear fins flick at your admission, yet he makes no move to look at you. His fingers, with claws retracted, gently glide over the messy colors and though the original painting is near unrecognisable, far too damaged by the tides to make anything out, Hyunjin seems to find a certain beauty in the destroyed artwork.

“Do you know who made this?” – he asks and there’s that trill in his voice again that makes you think his vocal chords must work differently to yours.

“Nope. Stole it from some rich guy, he didn’t really indicate the artist anywhere. I doubt he cared.”

Hyunjin frowns at that, finally putting the painting to the side and turning to you.

“What are you going to do now? I understand that this island is less than ideal for a human but I had to get you back on land as soon as possible. You would have died.”

“I know where my family was headed and if they survived that encounter, they’ll still sail towards Port Vement. I just have to figure out a way to get there” – you let your body fall back into the sand.

Hyunjin hums and even then, the little trill you’re slowly getting obsessed with accompanies the sound. You want to hear it again. You wonder if it would be there if he sang.

“I’ll help you. I’m the reason you’re in this situation, after all.”

-

The days passed in a slog. You were mainly concerned about finding a way off of the island while staying alive, the wound you nursed on your side healing too slow for your liking.

Hyunjin had been fantastic at keeping you company and ensuring you actually survived and stayed sane. He caught fish for you with his bare hands, showing it off proudly by raising his arm in the air and giving you a toothy grin from his place in the water as you watched him, your adoration growing for him with every fish caught.

You ate together and meal times were one of the few times where you had to realise, that Hyunjin was after all part animal with the way he tore into the fish, his fangs easily making short work of the seadweller.

When you were busy building a makeshift raft out of the driftwood that you found around the shore, he’d sunbathe on one of the nearby stones, his scales glistening and shimmering in the light. Your desire to touch them grew every time you stole a glance at the sleepy siren.

Sometimes, the two of you would just lay together, exhausted from the day. Hyunjin liked it when you told him stories of your adventures around the world but it seemed that he found particular joy in the stories that focused on your little pirate family.

You would tell him of Marnie, the bear-like man in charge of the kitchen, who you swear was the softest guy you had ever known. Everything he touched turned into a delicacy and his passion for good ingredients and cooking got even you excited to try your hand at making a dish, only to end up burning your hand and the meal tasting like it had gone bad a week ago, thus swiftly ending your career as a kitchen helper.

You would tell him of Val, the outlook who loves reading more than anything ever since your mother taught him. He keeps a little box full of books he procures from the towns you visit. Val doesn’t talk much but he’s generally good company and loves telling you about the plots of his novels.

You would tell him of Arlen, a tall scary-looking guy who was in charge of keeping all of your weapons sharp and battle-ready. Despite looking so fierce and battleworn, Arlen was quite the romantic, swooning here and there over the beauty of the world.

You would tell him of Marlo, who was with you ever since you were born for he was your father’s childhood friend. Marlo lies and talks a lot of bullshit all day long but that made him the greatest storyteller on board because he could exaggerate the hell out of the tales he told.

And finally, you would tell him of your parents, who fell in love when your father was just a scrawny lad robbing a bar blind with his crew of misfits. He swept her off her feet and promised her a future full of wealth and a lifetime of love in their little family.

It was a fair exchange, because Hyunjin, after a few days of only you entrusting stories to him, started telling you of his own life.

He was born in an alcove to two very loving parents when the weather just started changing, the water slowly warming up with each day passing, the sun more happy to be out and about. He was the only one of his clutch that survived, so he didn’t have any brothers or sisters.

When he was just a little fish, his parents got caught up in some kind of conflict between a group of sirens and, in order to protect their only son, gave their lives so he could swim away.

You noticed his voice came out strained, so you silently took his hand into yours in an effort to comfort him. It was your first time initiating touch with him and he accepted it gratefully, continuing on with his story.

“I was alone for quite a while, but my parents taught me well”, he said, “until I met a bunch of other sirens, all male, which was weird, since all the other sirens I had met during my life always had females with them for one reason or another. They were weird for that but what was even weirder is that… I stuck with them for a while and they started feeling like home.”

You nodded along to his words, your thumb caressing the back of his hand in comforting motions.

“You had your own little family, hm?”, you whisper and he nods.

“What happened to them?”, you ask cautiously, not wanting to push him too far in case he wasn’t ready to share that part of the story with you yet. His gills fluttered as he took in a shaky breath, his ear fins flapping nervously as his eyes find yours.

“There was a storm and we got seperated. I don’t know where they are.”

Hyunjin doesn’t share any more stories that night.

-

A few days into your new castaway life, you figure you should change or at least clean the bandages for your wound so it doesn’t get infected. Even after diligently checking through the supplies you gathered in your time here, there isn’t an awful lot of cloth amongst it.

You sigh and look down at your clothes, already mourning the fabric.

You trudge over to where Hyunjin was lounging about. In a way, you envy him for not having to wear proper clothing. Most of what he was wearing consisted of various seashells, fishing lines and other sea artefacts that he, or one of his friends, assembled to resemble necklaces, bracelets and decorations for his tail.

If he was human, he would be quite fashionable, you think.

“Hyunjin”, you whine and he cracks open one eye to look up at you.

“Can you use your claws to cut off some fabric from my clothes for new bandages?”

He mutters a quiet ‘sure’ and sits up, making grabby hands with his sharpened nails at you. You giggle at his antics and offer him your pantleg and he gently cuts off enough fabric to dress your wound with.

The next part is kind of awkward because last time you were unconscious and the situation was quite literally life-or-death. You both sit there awkwardly, Hyunjin still with the fabric in hand, not sure how and where to move. What was acceptable? Would you let him take care of you again now that you were fully conscious?

You were the first to break the awkward tension by lifting your shirt up.

“Help me, again?” – you choke out and Hyunjin feels like jumping into the water and swimming away as far as he can. He trills something, no words coming out of him, just cute little noises, his ear fins flicking nervously.

He scoots closer to you, the base of his tail settling against your knees and despite his scales looking so scratchy, it’s a smooth, silky feel against your skin.

The old bandages and algae are taken off with ease and Hyunjin curiously eyes your wound, checking if it needs to be cleaned or any other special care. Meanwhile you feel like dying, his careful eyes roaming over your middle feels weirdly intimate and you want to burst into a million pieces at his attention.

It’s not every day that you get the full attention of a man as beautiful as him. Even rarer that someone you feel attracted to genuinely wants to take care of you. Something stirs in your heart when Hyunjin’s fingers gently trace the outline of your wound, careful to not keep them too close.

“Is this okay?” – he asks when you slightly jump at his touch and you nod back at him in a daze.

He starts bandaging you up gently, occasionally letting his gaze flit up to your face, silently checking whether you were still okay with what was happening. His own neck starts gaining color when he notices how flustered you are by his ministrations and he quickly finishes up, making sure the bandage wasn’t too tight but still snug.

“Done” – he trills and quickly retracts his hands back to his own body.

On one hand you’re glad it’s over and you can let your body relax again, on the other, you wish he would have kept his hands on you just a little longer.

-

You’re finally able to complete a safe enough raft when Hyunjin finds the last piece of driftwood that seems stable enough to hold you. While you pack all the things you had gathered for a longer journey on sea, Hyunjin tests the durability of the raft by swimming a few paces out into the ocean and hops onto it.

It seems to pass his tests and he gives you a thumbs up before bringing it back.

“And you’re absolutely sure you can swim and pull this at the same time?” – you ask from your place on the raft for the nth time that day, the anxiety gnawing at your core that you’re tasking Hyunjin with something that would end up hurting him.

“Trust me a litte, I’ll be fine!” – he grins and it’s that smile you started to love so much, one where his eyes crinkle a little and remind you of the shape of the moon on some nights. It’s a smile that usually only comes out when he’s genuine, cackling about something he finds extremely funny or something you said to him makes him so happy he can’t hold himself back.

“Alright, fish boy, let’s go, then.”

And oh boy, he’s faster than you thought, pulling you two through the tides as if you weighed nothing to him. Maybe you didn’t. Maybe sirens were extremely strong and he simply never showcased it to you as he did with so many things.

You hold onto dear life and try to navigate him towards where you think was Port Vement.

Amidst the waves rocking your little raft, the excitement and anxiety at the thought of seeing your family again rises within your heart.

What if they never survived that attack?

What if something else happened to them and they never made it to the Port?

What if they never came to Port Vement in the first place?

Such thoughts had plagued your mind ever since you started planning to go after them, only momentarily silenced whenever Hyunjin piped up with something he wanted to ask you about ever curiously or whenever the siren popped into your field of vision, effectively ripping you out of your spiral.

It’s a moment of clarity, your chest constricting at the realisation that in these few days together, you really grew attached to your unlikely acquaintance. A realisation that forces a small part of your brain to wish that you could just stay with him instead of returning to your family. Because a returnal would mean that you would have to say goodbye to him and maybe never see him again, your worlds too different to be allowed to collide for too long.

You don’t talk a lot during your travels and when night eventually falls, Hyunjin is far too tired to keep up with idle conversations. His tail is gently curled around the raft as he rests his body on the wood beside you, slumbering peacefully as the waves rock you two in a soft but steady rhythm. Your hand finds its way into the soft tresses of his hair, your fingers carding through his locks in an effort to comfort and thank him for his efforts during the day.

That fall off your ship could have easily ended in your death. A deep cut in your side, the bloodloss and the strong tides would have killed you right then and there, slowly draining your strength until there was none left.

If Hyunjin didn’t decide to help you out of the kindness of his heart, that would have been it. He didn’t need to help you or stay by your side to ensure that you had food and were safe. Probably shouldn’t have helped you if he wanted to keep himself safe.

But he did anyway. And for that you were incredibly grateful, yet you didn’t have a proper chance to show him that and it made you feel guilty. So all you could do for the moment was ensure that he was healthy and offer him all the comfort he needed.

Surprisingly, the journey was more boring than you expected. There were no storms, no complications, barely any ships nearby that could’ve been trouble for a stray girl and her equally stray siren.

When you see Port Vement in the distance, you let out a yell that scares Hyunjin so much he momentarily stops swimming to look back at you in horror.

“Port Vement, Hyunjin! We made it! You did it!!” – you excitedly celebrate and crawl forward on your raft to take him into your arms tightly. Hyunjin startles at your sudden touch but relaxes into your hold, his webbed fingers coming up to pat your back.

“I promise you, I’m gonna buy you as much food as you want, whatever you want, I’ll make it possible! There’s not enough ways in the world to thank you” – you sob into his shoulder, suddenly emotional over the whole ordeal.

He really doesn’t like it that you’re crying but having you in his arms feels so right, so comforting to his heart that he physically feels his feelings for you click into place, finally slotting into the spaces where they belonged.

“Let’s get you out of the water, then” – he trills shyly and you sniff as you settle back onto the raft so Hyunjin can pull you the last few meters.

With shaky legs you finally stand on solid ground again.

Port Vement had always been something of a safe haven for your family so it felt good to be back somewhere familiar. You tell Hyunjin you’re gonna check out the docks to see if your family’s ship is there and he promises you he’ll stay nearby watching over you in case something happened.

Your mind races as you hurry to the docks, all the questions bubbling up again that spike your anxiety. The uneven road makes you trip and bump into people passing you by but you don’t much care for their complaints as you make your way down the streets. Your heart is beating fast inside your ribs, almost painfully so, making you feel like you’re drowning again.

Everything comes to a halt around you as all your fears slip clean off your shoulders when you take in the glory that is your family’s ship. You want to break down and cry now that you finally know they’re here and safe but you knock some sense into yourself as you wrack your brain for possible locations they could’ve fled to in this town.

There were several shops and fishermen around trying to sell their wares but you doubt you’d find one of them there, especially with the sun setting already. Then your eyes stop at a shield hanging from one of the big wooden doors around you.

A tavern.

Bingo.

You break out into a sprint again, ripping the door open and startling several of the guests. Ignoring all of their complaints is easy when your eyes zero in on one table in the far back where your father is cackling obnoxiously loud, probably about some lame joke Marlo made.

“Dad!” – you yell and hurry over to their table. When they notice you, everyone’s eyes turn as big as saucers and the table almost topples over with the force of everyone suddenly standing up, trying to get to you first.

This time you really cry when the first pair of arms encircles you, soon to be followed by countless more, the lot of you just ending up in a big cuddle pile.

“You don’t know how much I missed you” – you cry and everyone shares your sentiment.

“We thought you died!”

“How did you survive that?!”

“Where have you been this entire time?!”

“How did you get to this island?!”

You answer all of their questions throughout the evening and in-between beers. For a moment, you think whether to tell them about Hyunjin’s existence or to obscure it to keep him safe in case someone else was listening in on your conversation. You settle on whispering it to your parents while the others are busy getting shitfaced. You’re your parents are surprised would be an understatement and they don’t believe you at first, thinking you might have taken a hit to your head or that you started to hallucinate in your absence.

Your insistence on the truthfulness of your story makes them eventually back down and give in.

“I don’t want to do anything he doesn’t want to, so I don’t know if you’ll ever meet him but… I just wanted you to know that my survival was thanks to a kind soul” – you mumble to them and your own statement makes you suddenly go rigid.

In your revery and celebration you totally forgot that Hyunjin was waiting for you.

You excuse yourself hastily, only your parents knowing the real reason why you would suddenly leave, and run outside to where you had last seen him. New anxieties swirl in your head. What if he left? What if that was it and you never got to say a proper goodbye to him? Thank him for what he’s done?

The coast was entirely clear so you called out to him in the dark.

“Hyunjin?”

Silence.

“Hyunjin? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait for so long!”

The waves softly crash against the shores.

“My parents know about you, I hope that was fine? They’re very grateful, just like I am!”

The sounds of drunken hollering from the town reach your ears but thankfully they’re quiet, too far away to be a concern.

“Please don’t tell me you left…” – your voice gets quieter with each time you call out to him.

That’s when you spot something in the water. Two glowing orbs watching you from beneath the water. A relieved sigh escapes your lungs and your eyes sting, marking the fourth time you want to cry today.

You carefully step to the edge of the water and crouch down to place your hand into the sea. There’s a few moments before the yellow glow starts gliding through the water towards you and something suddenly takes your hand into theirs.

Hyunjin’s head peeks out of the water and you can see him pout.

“I thought you left me for good” – he mumbles into the water and despite his overly dramatic pout, you know he means it.

“I really am sorry… I got carried away after seeing my family again but I should have at least given you a sign or something instead of letting you wait without knowing what’s going on” – you caress his cheek, letting your thumb graze over the miniscule fins protruding from his cheekbones and Hyunjin lets out a soft trill.

“I was scared” – he doesn’t look you in the eyes anymore after his admission and your heart breaks.

“Don’t leave me, you’re all I have” – he sounds so broken, so different from the boy that kept giggling over the dumbest things you told him.

“Hyunjin…”

The water splashes around him when he pushes his body up on the stone, tail flailing behind him. When his hands find purchase on your shoulders, his retracted nails digging into your flesh, you half think he is going to live up to the siren stereotypes and drag you into the depths, but instead, his plush lips crash into yours haphazardly.

For a moment you’re taken aback, the force of the kiss so sudden, but your heart swells when your mind finally catches up to what was happening, your lips starting to move against his.

He tastes salty and a bit fishy, you can feel his fangs when you push your lips against his. Hyunjin is in a constant battle with himself of wanting to savor this and wanting to rush to the next part. His body wins and he timidly licks your lips, requesting you to open your mouth for him.

As you two kiss, pouring every amount of yearning and love into it, your arms circle around his small waist, pulling him further against your body. A pleased trill escapes his lips and you smile against him, licking excitedly into his mouth. You notice his tongue is different from yours, forked at the end and longer overall. Your tongue catches a few times on the many little fangs in his mouth but you don’t mind. Right now, you’re on cloud nine.

“The feelings I have in my chest are too big to put into words” – he says breathlessly when you part, foreheads touching.

“Can you show them to me?”

Hyunjin nearly sobs at your question, his mind pushing him to do a million things at the same time. How does one put their love into actions properly? How could he possibly show you how much you grew to mean to him within the days you spent together with just one action?

The rest of his tail lifts out of the water and envelops you, his arms pushing you to rest your head against his chest as he cradles you.

“My mother used to hold me like this” – he begins quietly, his heart thumping loudly against your ear.

“She said that as long as her heart was beating in her chest and I could hear it like this, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. And even long after the beating of her heart faded out, I could remember it and be sure that for as long as she lived, her heart was beating for me” – he hugs you tighter against his chest, his cheek resting atop your head.

The two of you stay like this for a while, just breathing with each other, feeling each other’s skin. You give little kisses to his chest, finally getting to touch his scales like you wanted to the moment you met him.

“I know it’s not a replacement for what you lost, but for the time being until we find your friends again, if you wanted to, I could probably convince the others to take you with us, you know.”

“You would?”

“Of course I would, you dummy”, you giggle and poke his side and he lets out a trill again, much to your joy.

“My parents already know about you and even though a part of them probably thinks their daughter has lost it, they would accept you without thought. You saved me and showed me more kindness than another human might in a situation like this, you’re probably already part of the crew in their heads.”

Hyunjin sobs and hugs you even tighter to his body, his tail wrapping protectively around your legs.

In the quiet of the night, you two whisper about better tomorrows and a future filled with love to each other.

You don’t return to your family until morning.

-

The introduction between Hyunjin and your family went as well as you could have hoped. While most of them were weary at first, scared, that he was going to turn on them and do siren things to them, they accepted him after seeing that he was equally as shy about meeting them. Plus, they couldn’t argue with you for long when you kept insisting that he was the only reason you were alive right now.

The crew went about loading and repairing the ship from the damages it endured during the battle, meaning that you weren’t going to leave this place for a few days at least. Hyunjin curiously watched the hustle and bustle from a short distance away, not wanting to be in the way or risking getting seen by locals who didn’t know about him.

Your father approaches you on the last day of repairs, asking you to check out a new little addition to the pirate ship, one that has you gasping in happiness.

They decided to add a small, silly lift and a bunch of nets that were sturdy enough to hold Hyunjin on the side of the ship. That way, he could either use the lift with the help of someone on board or climb his way on deck using the nets. With an addition like this you were absolutely sure that Hyunjin was now part of the family and with an excited skip in your step you run to tell him about it.

He seems just as excited about it, his ear fins flickering happily and a huge grin on his face. Just one issue.

“Do you…uhm, have a bucket of water or something for me to sit in? I’m going to dry out otherwise.”

You scratch your head in thought. You kind of forgot that he needs water to survive, never having seen him outside of it for long.

“We got that covered, lad!”, Marnie yells, scaring both of you, as he unloads the last ingredients for the kitchen on deck.

“Near the spot where our dear y/n always sunbathes we put up a big tub already filled with salty sea water for ye!”

Hyunjin’s eyes glitter in joy and he claps his hands together excitedly.

“y/n! Help me up! I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like to be on a big ship like this!”

You chuckle and run on board towards the lift, and with little trouble you get the siren on board. A little more physical effort from both of you is needed to get Hyunjin across the deck and into the tub but when his cute little fish butt hits the water the two of you let out a pleased sigh.

“This is great!” – he trills excitedly, not knowing where to look first.

As Hyunjin takes in all the sights and the difference in height, you take the opportunity to observe the rest of the ship, a sense of calm settling in your chest at the thought of having both your family back and Hyunjin by your side.

-

Travelling with a siren by your side proves to be quite advantageous. The fishing takes half the time with Hyunjin speeding through the nearby waters and snatching up any fish big and beautiful enough to be considered meal-worthy by Marnie while your father desperately tries to do it the old-fashioned way only to lose to the siren every time.

To make up for every defeat, Hyunjin’s second job as a pirate is scouting ahead of your ship to make sure you’re not running into any law enforcement or other pirates that could prove dangerous.

He seems to love being needed for specific tasks.

The next time the opportunity arises for your crew to steal from a rich guy, Arlen casually takes a painting off the wall to offer it to Hyunjin later. He tries to brush it off as not a big deal, yet he can’t escape getting pulled into a big hug as Hyunjin thanks him wholeheartedly.

Arlen would never admit it to anyone but he teared up a bit at the genuine excitement bubbling off the siren just because he gave him a little gift.

The others soon also realised Hyunjin’s love for art so it escalated into something of a tradition for any crewmember to always bring back something from the world of art for their new fish buddy.

-

Today was one of the boring days, the entire crew on land for their business endeavors. The ship wasn’t docked as usual, a short distance away from land so they had to use the row boats to get to their destination. That left Hyunjin and you alone on the boat, lounging about in the sun. He let one arm lazily dangle outside of his tub to hold your hand with.

You suddenly realise that with the entire crew gone, probably until the next day, you could finally get some much needed kisses in. Ever since you took off from Port Vement, Hyunjin and you had to abstain from too much physical contact since you didn’t want to scare your parents with both bringing a real siren to the crew and explaining that he might be their new son-in-law.

Hyunjin cracks his eyes open when he feels your hand caressing his cheek. Without warning, you press a kiss to his lips and he feels like bursting at the seams, after being deprived of your loving touch for so long. It was just the start of your relationship and he immediately had to hold himself back from all the physical affections he wanted to give you. It was kind of unfair.

All the more reason for him to meet your kiss with as much fervor as he could muster. The miniscule fins on his cheekbones tickle you when you deepen the kiss, your tongue gliding over his forked one. Your heart beats erratically at your chest at you finally being able to kiss him again, your desperation transferring over to your movements being overly eager, accidentally knocking your teeth together but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, it seems to spur him on even more, his hand finding its place on your waist, squeezing your flesh rhythmically.

You decide to be bold and lift your body in the tub, your legs on each side of his tail. Hyunjin looks up at you with an open mouth and big, glazed over eyes, clearly startled.

“Your clothes…”

“Forget about them, Hyune.”

And you descend back on him, your lips clashing with his. Your fingertips graze his ear fins and he lets out a high trill at the back of his throat. They must be sensitive. You store that knowledge in the back of your head for later.

Hyunjin is restless, unsure of where he’s allowed to touch, if he’s supposed to just trust his instincts, let his body do whatever it wanted. You were clearly just doing whatever came to your mind, grinding your core into his tail and letting out small whimpers against his lips that drove him crazy. He needed to know, so he gently pushes you away from him.

“Are you sure?”

You look at him dazed and it seems to take a second before his question registers in your head.

“More than sure. Do whatever feels right, Hyune.”

That about does it for him. His body presses into yours as he attaches his lips on your neck, sucking and peppering it with kisses. Your hands glide over the many fins along his spine, lightly scratching at the base of them and earning another trill from him. Your shirt is discarded haphazardly and thrown somewhere nearby the tub, leaving you bare in front of him. His curious eyes roam hungrily over your chest, a hand coming up to cup your breast experimentally.

“Where can I touch you?” – you breathe against him and Hyunjin suddenly grows shy. A red blush starts to creep up on his neck but he takes one of your hands into his regardless and places it on a specific part on the front of his tail.

“You… you know my ear fins are sensitive and the top of my body works similar to a human’s but, uhm… this is, you know…” – he stammers as you press your fingers into his scales gently. A small slit runs horizontally up his tail between his scales and in a burst of curiosity, you press your fingers inside, causing Hyunjin to throw his head back against the tub and let out a long moan.

“I see” – you tell him and continue to lightly press your fingers against his slippery walls. Your ministrations have him writhing and squirming underneath you, letting out small wanton moans mixed with trills.

Something soon pushes your fingers away and you take a moment to look at the mess Hyunjin had become while you were busy playing with him. He already looked so fucked out, his eyes glossy and glazed over, his hair falling around him messily like a crown, his chest heaving as he looked up at you.

He still was the prettiest thing you ever saw.

“y/n… please…” – he tugs at your pants and you realise you’re still completely dressed from the waist down. You hastily step out of the tub to get rid of the last few offending garments, bearing yourself entirely to him. As you step back in, you see what was pushing against your fingers just a moment ago.

That makes everything a little easier to figure out, as two cocks, similar in color to his tail, protrude from the slit, one a little bit larger than the other. But before you can touch him again, he urges you to sit on the edge of the wooden tub, eager to get his mouth on you. His forked tongue delves between your folds, experimentally licking up and down before focusing its attack entirely on your clit as he suckles.

Your hand tangles itself into his luscious hair, keeping him in place. The effort was kind of in vain because Hyunjin would rather die than part from you at this moment, greedily licking up your juices just to hear more of those melodic moans spilling from your lips. Just as much as you grew obsessed with his fascinating voice and trills, he grew to love your voice the same way.

Carefully, with retracted claws, one of his long fingers prods at your entrance before slipping in until the membrane stopped it from going any further.

“You’re doing so well…” – you praise him and earn a trill, your hands starting to massage his ear fins to give some of the pleasure back.

His ministrations soon bring you to your first climax and leave both of you panting and wanting for more.

Hyunjin eases you back into the tub to hover over his crotch. He gently takes the bigger one of his cocks into his hand, hissing at the contact after going for so long with no touches, and angles it towards your entrance for you to sink down on.

You both moan as you sink down to the hilt, his smaller cock nestling directly against your clit. Time stands seemingly still as you get used to the unusual stretch.

“You okay?” – Hyunjin whispers and soothingly rubs your lower back, his cold hands soothing against your burning flesh. You nod at him, letting your body fall against his, chest against chest, your arms circling around his waist as your face buries itself into his neck.

“Can you move?”

Hyunjin trills and obeys your command without thought, moving his hips in slow motions, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls. The extra stimulation from his smaller cock against your front makes you whine into his neck which you pepper with kisses, his gills fluttering at the caress of your lips.

“You feel so good…” – Hyunjin all but whimpers, his hands finding purchase on your hips to move you against him. You hug his chest tighter as you feel your orgasm build up a second time.

“Can I…uhm-“

“Do whatever you want, Hyune. Please.”

You feel him kiss the crown of your head and his strong tail bracing itself against the wooden tub before his pace gets rougher and faster, water beginning to slosh out at the sides. The drag of his two cocks against you is too much for you, your cunt clenching around him as you come with a strained moan into his chest.

“Ah… I love you, y/n. I love you, I really do. Where do I-“

“Inside.”

“Really?”

“I want all of you, Hyunjin.”

You lift up and take his face between your hands to look at him as his hips stutter into you in an uneven rhythm until you feel his cum filling you up. That trill accompanies his voice even as he comes. He looks beautiful, his eyes full of adoration, his lips slightly apart as he comes down from his high slowly.

You two hold onto each other, just basking in eachother’s closeness for a while before his cock slips out of you, retracting back into his slit now that it’s all over and no longer needed.

“I love you, too, by the way.”

And Hyunjin couldn’t be happier, his ear fins flapping happily as he nuzzles his face further into your hair.

-

You do eventually tell your parents about the relationship between you and Hyunjin and although they seem extremely hesitant at first, they figure they can’t really do anything to stop you from pursuing him with the way he’s bonded to you.

The crew eventually returns to Port Vement to stay there for a few days and Hyunjin and you find yourselves on the same part of the shore where your relationship started taking a turn.

You both lounge about beneath the stars, you tucked carefully into his chest. Originally you were scared that Hyunjin and your world were too different for this to go well but you found that despite him being a sea dweller and kind of a menace sometimes, that the two of you are a better fit than you expected.

When you want to tell him another story from your childhood for old time’s sake, you find him already fast asleep in the sand next to you. You smile and kiss the corner of his mouth before settling back against his chest.

Whatever battles lie ahead, you’re sure Hyunjin would pull you from the depths again and again and anyone daring to attack him for what he was would face your entire crews wrath.

As long as your hearts beat, they beat for eachother, you’re sure of that.

-

taglist: @jeonginsleftcheek

[hyvneluv]

*𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝑰𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑶𝒏𝒆*

Pairing: Snake!Hybrid Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Snakes! Mentions of Blood/Stitches, Fork/Split tongue, Oral(F), Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Biting, Two Dicks (kinda double P), Sorry for any mistakes or Missing warnings!

A/N: My animal knowledge really shows here😂

Series Master List

-🖤

It was rare to see snake hybrids. A lot of them hid in fear of how others treated them. Humans were mean creatures, especially to things they fear. They knew that all too well, so seeing a snake hybrid brought into your adoption center was strange. His scales were flakey, eyes stuck with shed. You could tell whoever had him didn’t treat him well.

No one wanted to be near him most of your colleagues staying away some even squealing. However you weren’t scared, did you like snakes? Not particularly, but you knew he needed help. When you approached him in the little container he was in he hissed. You quickly shushed him picking him up to take him to the sink area. You had run him a small bath, just some water for him to soak in. “I can’t believe you’re touching that thing” someone streaked at your side.

“It deserves the same amount of love and compassion as any others here” you retort looking down at him. You cleaned him up helping the stuck shed off before putting him back with a heating lamp.

“Y/n will you take it home?” Your manager had asked.

“Why don’t you want it here?” You glared.

“Listen, most of us don’t like them. He’s probably not gonna get adopted and we also aren’t equipped to take care of him properly. You at least seem to know what you’re doing.” They rambled.

You looked back down at the snake who was now curled up by your hand. “Fine, I’ll take it home, however.” You said with a small pause. “He’s mine as soon as we leave and I want the next few days off to take care of him and help him settle.” You stated.

“Of course-“ your manager started to say before you interrupted him.

“Paid” you said sternly.

With a sigh knowing he wasn’t gonna win he agreed just wanting that thing out of the building.

You put him in your spare room, getting the necessary stuff for his set up. You watched as he explored smiling to yourself. “Listen, I know you understand me. So whenever if ever you wanna become human. This room is yours. You have free roam where ever. You’ll be safe here, and taken care of” you kept talking.

He laid under the heating lamp listening carefully. If he could laugh he would. He’s heard that before. Knowing damn well his last owner started off with “love” but quickly forgot about him. He never got comfortable enough to turn so what made you think he would here he wondered.

As days went on you grew fonder of him, seeing some of his goofy personality shine through. His scales looked a lot healthier, a beautiful dark shade with glints of goldish color in them. They matched his beautiful piercing gold eyes. He hissed at you a lot however never making any attempt at striking. After shifts at work you’d pick him up out of his tank, laying him on the couch as you watched tv. It was one of these nights that it changed.

You had done your normal taking him out laying him on the couch with a heating pad beside if he got to cold. He stayed there as you cooked dinner only to be startled from his sleep by a crashing sound. He could smell blood in the air his fork tongue flickering at the scent. “Fuck!” He heard you yell from the kitchen with a bit of rustling. He was scared something had happened that someone broke in. In his panic turning ‘human’. He ran into the kitchen only to see you on the floor holding your hand that was gushing blood.

“What the hell happened?” He said making you jump. He looked at you realizing he was ‘human’.

“You turned?” You said almost excitedly.

He couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh “that shouldn’t be the focus right now, you’re literally bleeding” he said before grabbing a clean towel to wrap it around your hand.

You watched him looking over his features. He had a sharp jawline, slim but muscular physique, those gold eyes even prettier. When he started talking your eyes found themselves on his pillowy lips. You could see the small peak of fangs and to your surprise his tongue was split. You were just in awe taking him in not even realizing he was talking to you. Not until he lifted your head with his warm hand. “Hello? Are you listening? You probably need stitches” he said looking at you were furrowed brows.

You only nodded eyes still scanning over him. You grabbed your phone off the counter with your other hand calling your neighbor. He came over taking you to the hospital and you did in deed need stitches.

Your snake hybrid cleaned up the mess. He finished making the dinner you were working on before it happened and sat there. Waiting. Agonizingly waiting. When you came through the door he smiled sighing in relief. “Hey! Thanks for cleaning and- wait you finished dinner?” You said surprised.

“Yeah, how’s the hands?” He said.

“Ah well it’s not bleeding anymore” you said with a laugh.

“I can’t believe you cut yourself that deep, what were you doing? Dancing with the knife?” He teased.

“No this was all just a scheme to see if you’d come to my rescue” you teased back making him roll his eyes. “Since I can properly ask you now though, what’s your name?” You asked siting down at the counter.

“Hyunjin.” He said.

“Good now I can stop calling you snakey” you said laughing.

After that moment Hyunjin didn’t turn back for the most part. Sometimes you’d fined him curled up under his heating lamp, other times he’d be curled up on the couch under lots of blankets. Your routine continued coming home, cooking, sitting on the couch with him just watching tv. Now though, he talked back. He got into the habit of curling up against you when you came home. Your body’s heat always feeling so nice to him.

You came home today more exhausted than normal though. A fight braking out between some hybrids at work. You being in the middle of it when it happened. Today honestly wasn’t as normal as you thought. All the hybrids were acting weird around you. A lot more possessive and clingy. When you walked through the door thinking about it more you realized hyunjin hadn’t came out from his tank.

“Hyune, are you ok?” You asked leaning down over the tank. When he didn’t budge you picked him up like normal his skin scales feeling warm. He hissed at you baring his fangs. “Are you mad at me?” You said softly, making him stop. He slithered up your arm before slithering down your leg. He made his way to the bed before turning back to his human like form.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m not mad at you. Ugh” he groaned. “Do you realize you’re ovulating?” He said with a loud groan.

“Am I? Is that why everyone’s been so weird today?” You questioned.

“Probably- god I don’t know how you went to work with all of them. You’re supposed to be mine” he said the end of his sentence trialing off.

“I am yours” you said quickly with out realizing your own words impact.

“Yeah?” He said looking up at you. Those gold eyes had a hint of something in them. “Then let me make you mine.” He said before grabbing your arm pulling you to him.

He didn’t give you anytime to protest before kissing you, his lips warm softer than you’d imagine. His kiss was hungry tongue quickly making its way into your mouth. His hands came down pulling your bottoms down quickly in one swift motion. He was moving so fast, his motions only driven by need. The need to have you all his, a primal need. His sharp fangs grazed your bottom lip as he moved down your neck. It was almost like he was a little vampire with those fangs. He kissed down your body, pulling your thighs up to him.

He licked his lips looking at your dripping cunt “she’s calling me” he said with a smirk before diving into your core. His fork tongue feeling way different from anything you’d ever had before. Both the muscles moving on their own as they lapped at your folds. His fingers came up to graze against your slick before pushing them into you. He curled them hitting a sensitive spot. The moan you let out only drove him to keep doing it. To hear it again and again. Your hands found their way to his long soft locks.

“Fuck Hyune” you moaned out.

“Feel good? Gonna cum on my tongue?” He said with a devilish smile.

You nodded making that smile only grow. He picked up his speed fingers finding another even more sensitive spot. With his pace and tongue lapping at your clit your high crashed quickly over you. Walls tightening around his fingers. He licked a long strip up eyes staining into yours. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep tasting you all over him but he needed to be inside you. Fuck your smell alone was gonna make him nut in his pants.

He stood up pulling down his pants revealing his two curvy cocks. With shock, eyes widen you blurted out “you have two?!”

He couldn’t help but laugh “yeah, you didn’t know? Thought you read up on me” he said. He took your hand wrapping it around the bigger one “this one’s the main one, and th- this one” he stuttered as your hand grazed the smaller one “this one is super sensitive like your clit” he said.

You nodded staring intently at his cocks. He leaned you back pressing his body against your kissing you deeply. He slowly pushed himself into you, the smaller cock rubbing against your clit. He let out a hiss of pleasure before his mind went. He started pounding into you mercilessly. His smacking against yours. The sounds of moans and skin smacking filling the air with the scent of sex. He had his head buried in the crook of your neck his long fangs grazing so gently at it. “I shouldn’t even let you leave smelling this good, all of them got their gross scent on you.” He hissed. “I’m gonna make sure they know you’re taken.”

His thrusts continued fast before he gripped at your legs pressing them against your chest before drilling into you. The new angel letting him hit at your cervix. “Hyunjin!” You screamed hands coming up to touch his chest. He pulled out fully before pushing hard back into you however he felt bigger. You felt more pressure in your core like somehow his cock grew a size. The pornagraphic sound he let out made your eyes snap open looking down you realized why he felt bigger. His smaller cock has slipped in, your cunt sucking both of them so greedily.

“Sh-shit I- I- fuck!” His head rolled back not being able to even speak at the pleasure. The warmth overtaking his smaller cock making it twitch in over stimulation. He snapped his hips back one more time both cocks pushing deep inside of you before you were Cumming. Cumming harder than you have ever before. His body shook at the feeling. Your walls tightening more and more around him. He gripped at your hips harshly digging his nails into you. He cried out as his release finally spilled out painting your walls white.

When you stared to squirm a bit trying to adjust yourself, the movement pushing him deeper into you making him whimper. “D-don’t move” he pleaded. You realized his smaller cock was still hard. You smirked up at him before moving away only to push back on him. He gasped almost like the wind was knocked out of him. His hands tried to stop your movement but one more push back his smaller cock was cumming.

He had the most intense orgasm, his body shook body falling to the side of you. He tried regaining his breath “I’ve- I’ve never- with my smaller” his words coming out choppy but you knew what he meant.

You pushed some of his hair back kissing him softly. “M’sorry for- I should have asked” he said still out of breath.

“It’s ok hyune honestly after today kinda needed it” you said with a smile.

“Gl-glad I could help.” He said nuzzling his head into your neck. His breathing was still heavy as you stroked his back.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @jehhskz @babigriin @kkamismom12 @jeonginsleftcheek

[hyvneluv]

serpent hybrid hyunjin 🌱🐍🌱

hyunjin never acted like this. you had never seen him behave so much like a serpent. was he experiencing an unusual kind of heat? did snakes do that...well u just gotta find out

i love this concept so much ill scream-

reblogging > liking

-contains mature themes (two dicks and a split tongue ahhh)

snake hybrids weren't exactly judged well in society. stereotypical beliefs calling them mean slithery liars who manipulate people.

they were just misjudged. misunderstood hybrids who needed affection too. maybe the energy exhuded made them look tough and deadly but deep down they were sweeter than even bunny hybrids.

thats why your boyfriend, hyunjin is always by your side.

theres nothing quite different about snake hybrids. except for the patches of scales on different parts of their body.

however some had no scales, instead just forked tongues. hyunjin was no exception. patient and mind numbingly soft at all times. snuggling into you every now and then.

thats why when you step into the house,you aren't expecting the strong whiff of a certain peculiar smell. its musky and fills the whole apartment.

you don't even know what you're smelling until you're embraced by him. his body warm, reeking of musk. intoxicating your senses.

"hyun-" you let out hurriedly, dropping your bag on the ground in shock. his face buried in your neck. hands running all over your body.

practically pushing you against the door, slipping his left hand between your legs while his right hand grabbed your backside. gasping at the way you seem to float off the ground. he's picking you up quicker than you can even process.

"what's going on? baby?" you say, trying to wriggle out of his firm hold. he's stronger than before and he continues holding you off the ground.

hyunjin hisses.

he fucking hisses.

and your eyes widen. thats only the second time he's ever hissed at you. once during an argument and right now. did that mean he was angry?

"heat." is all he says, huffing as he slams the bedroom door open. throwing you on the bed. not caring at the funny way, you bounced on the soft mattress.

"what do you mean? I thought snakes..don't get heats..."

you questioned. watching as he paced around the room, trying to control himself.

taking off his hoodie. arms out on display. shining with a thin layer of sweat. his hair soaked.

"fuck i don't know...i was washing our clothes and i got the smell of your shirt..."

he mumbles, and your eyes go down to where theres a prominent bulge in his pants. a wet patch staining the material.

"and its like my senses went wild. all I was thinking of was you. fucking you over and over again..." hyunjin slurs, his forked tongue peeking out.

"jinnie...your tongue"

you whisper. intrigued at how his tongue slipped past his lips every few seconds. he had never done that before.

"i can't control it-" he covers his mouth, gazing at you with needy eyes.

were his eyes always so sharp, you wondered.

"its okay baby, breathe" you reassure, opening your arms for him to come to you. and he does. resting his head on your shoulder, his weight pressing you down into the bed.

leaning into kiss him innocently when all of a sudden, his hands are on either side of your face, pulling you in for a needy kiss.

brain shutting off at the feeling of his forked tongue licking into your mouth. forcing you to be submissive because you knew you wouldn't win this battle.

.

🌱

.

"j-jinnie" squirming under him.

his hands pinning your lower half down. head buried between your legs. your toes curling everytime he maneuvered his tongue to simultaneously flick at your sensitive clit and slip between your swollen lips.

"shhh"

u don't know if he's shushing you or hissing at you.

because the next thing you feel is his fork like tongue pushing all over your folds. fingers digging into your hips with strength that had your cunt throbbing.

whining at the loss as he lifts his head up. teasingly using the tips of his wet muscle to prod at your bundle of nerves. face contorting in pleasure at your taste. breath heavy on your warmth.

"breed." he blurts out, surprising himself. your mouth opening in shock when his nails dig into your waist.

his nails had grown longer, into claws and the once hardly noticeable scales on his forearms became visible. gradient shade of black and grey.

"hyun! h-hyunjin, baby b-bab-"

writhing higher into the mattress as he pushed your legs further apart.

nestling his split tongue over your swollen pussy. teasingly managing to place your clit in the Y of his wet muscle.

had his tongue grown longer because you could feel him so deep...

.

.

"h-hyun?" you whisper, gripping his arm to relax your body for him. scales textured and rough under your calloused palm.

"m'right here, baby" hyunjin cooes. placing a hand flat on your lower stomach. eyes fixed on where he was prepping you.

with both his dicks. rubbing the tip over your folds while the other pressed into your entrance. leaking more and more slick that mixed with your own arousal.

"almost in, my love" nudging the first one in with extreme care. your fingers grasping at him. his jaw hanging open as he pushed in, groaning when he slid halfway in.

spreading your thighs so he could start to push his second dick in. the sensation and stretch making you cry in a mix of pain and pleasure.

snake hybrids had two features that only a person who they were close to, would find out about. a forked long tongue means their dicks are the same as well.

hyunjin was not particularly big. actually he was slightly above average considering snake hybrids had longer lengths and lesser girths.

hyunjin had thicker girths and the length of both his dicks were just perfect. neither too big nor too small.

but right now, he felt bigger.

he felt longer. he felt hot.

thats why when he pushes both of them past your entrance, you let out a muffled scream. eyes rolling back at the fullness. quite literally stuffed like this, for the first time.

"f-fuck gonna take me all in"

lowering himself to look down at you. his arms on either side of your head. placing his larger hands on your face. lips brushing against your open mouth.

"thats my precious girl~" and your pussy spasms around him.

getting him soaked because the way the word 'precious' rolled off his tongue, could make you cum on the spot. rolling his s's and a few other alphabets in a serpent like way. something he'd usually never do.

a firm thrust that has your hands flying up to hold onto him. clawing at his back while he buried himself deeper into your cunt. stretching you out with every rough movement.

the scales on his back were larger and travelled down his spine. groaning as you scratched down his back, hard enough to leave red imprints.

"gonna take my cum like a good mate, yes~" hyunjin hisses, watching you so closely. letting his tongue run over your front teeth, all the way down to your bottom lip.

you nod at his statement. wrapping your legs around his waist. pulling him closer. not caring if his patterns of uneven scales scratched you here and there.

plush lips kissing you with such intensity. his nose pressing into your cheek. pushing you deeper into the pillow. trailing a hand down to where your chest touched his. grabbing a handful of flesh and squeezing hard enough to make you arch your back.

taking the opportunity to thrust in deeper. your bottom half nearly lifted off the bed with his strength.

pads of his fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nubs. hooking your leg higher so he could change the angle. filling you up with warmth. it makes your eyes struggle to stay open.

this was nowhere near over...

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

hiss hiss need more snake hyunjin ideas FUVKKKKK

[hyvneluv]

The last sentence hit hard this is so ndjendoiwencioe2ncoiecj2ioecjewjciowdjcoij

#hyvneluvrecs

Orange

hyunjin x reader. childhood friends to lovers. implied soulmates. hyune's pov.

this is the prequel & sequel to you're in the wind, i'm in the water. you need to read the prev fic first to understand how hyunjin and mc confessed to one another!!

this is very self indulgent but it's also my bd gift so i get a pass hehe also a tribute to one of my fav love languages which is peeling an orange for someone :')

based on Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey,, so highly recommend listening to it while reading :)) feedback is appreciated as always <333

i'm on the run with you my sweet love

The beige sand warms the soles of your feet as you and Hyunjin run along the shore. His parents sit by a towel, watching you with idle curiosity as you’re propelled forth by the brisk winds; and a sense of feedom only found in the tender hearts of children.

Hyunjin doesn’t know where you’re taking him. He didn’t question you when you entwined your fingers with his before running away, your footprints etched upon the sandy canvas. His sole attention was on your clammy hand, tightly clasping his.

Hyunjin didn’t yet understand what it meant to crave the hand of someone in yours, for it to feel natural for fingers to hold one another. He was only seven. What does one really know at this age?

But he knew that he was drawn to grand things. The beauty of fireworks as they unfold in the sky, dazzling colors rivaling the hues of sunsets. To the towering sunflowers his mother takes him to see, so tall their petals almost seem to be reaching for the sun’s embrace. To the full moon and the way it hangs close to earth, as if yearning to enter our horizon, to sink into the soil and rest.

But in that moment, as he watched your gleeful smile, the blush tinting your cheeks as you tugged him along, a different amazement grew within his soul. It was quiet, it was soft, it didn't overwhelm his seven-years-old heart. It was enough.

You finally stop by a rock, settling in the sand with your hair fanning around you like a halo. Hyunjin hovers over you, his tentative gaze tracing your features, trying to pinpoint what had made that peculiar feeling pour over his body, like candle wax finally meeting its destined mold.

He doesn't find an answer, only your kind smile as you tap the place near you. You were giddy, as if you had run far when his parents remained mere meters away.

Hyunjin had noticed this urge in you to flee, to wander, always. He didn't know what it means. He thought that perhaps you didn't know either. He wondered if you'd ever run away from him. The question burned the tip of his tongue.

"Will we always run together?" Hyunjin suddenly asks, kneeling to meet your eyes.

"If you want to," you shrug. "Will you run away with me when we're older?"

"Where to?" he asks, a note of apprehension coloring his tone.

"I don't know. We'll know later."

"Okay."

"You pinky promise?"

"I do," Hyunjin entwines his pinky with yours, before leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. He avoids your eyes as a dusty blush cascades on his cheeks, akin to the fading pink of a sunken sunset. You giggle, reciprocating the kiss before pressing your thumbs together.

"Sealed forever," you grin, eyes disappearing into moon crescents. Your contagious happiness mirrors instantly on Hyunjin's face, his nose scrunching up in delight.

He wants to keep this smile on your face, he thinks, this intricate joy that dawns upon your features, brightening up your face, making your pinky in his feel lighter, warmer.

So, he takes out an orange from his pocket.

"Where did you get this?" you chuckle, eyes widening in delight as if presented with the world's most treasured jewel.

"A vendor gave it to me," he shrugs, handing it to you.

Your thumb punctures the tangerine's thick skin, making the fruit’s juice drip down your hands. You attempt to peel it but the skin breaks instantly, falling into the sand.

"Here, let me," Hyunjin offers, taking the orange from your hands, peeling it for you.

A strange warmth slowly spreads through his being, akin to tree roots anchoring onto the soil, to the unfurling of petals on the first day of spring. It feels good, for some reason, to do this mundane task for you.

This newfound feeling only solidifies when you smile brightly at him, breaking the fruit into two halves and handing one part to Hyunjin.

You no longer look like you want to run. You look content here, simply sharing an orange with him.

Hyunjin suddenly wants to buy you a whole crate of tangerines. Maybe even a farm of it- just trees upon trees that he can plant for you. He chases the thought away, he's only seven, he doesn't have money, where would he even store the oranges?

Hyunjin didn't have the answer to this question, nor the million ones swirling in his mind. But he knew your smile, the kindness in your eyes, the lingering scent of oranges on his fingers, even after washing his hands. And the word that sat heavy on his soul, from that night forth.

Hyunjin knew he loved you when he was seven years old.

there is nothing wrong contemplating God; under the chemtrails over the country club

"Found you," Hyunjin whispers, reclining on the rooftop near you.

"Wasn't hiding from you," you respond just as softly, your gaze fixed on the turquoise sky overhead. Your words cause Hyunjin's heart to swell within his chest, growing, expanding, pushing against his ribs, yearning to escape and splatter at your feet.

His emotions were always so grand- his happiness consuming his entire being, the sadness, the loneliness rattling his bones with an invincible cold. Then the love for you, not in dependence, the way the planets orbit around the sun. But with choice, because he wants to, craves being near.

"What are you doing?" he asks after a while, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Watching the chemtrails," you point out a tiny plane leaving a white trail in the sky.

"It looks so far away," he whispers in wonder, and you hum with a melancholic expression. Hyunjin curls his hand into a fist, resisting the urge to smooth the delicate frown etched on your brows.

"Didn't you like your birthday celebration?" he finally asks. He knows the answer before you quietly say, 'yes.' You were never one for the chic attire, the fine china and polished silverware reflecting the guests fake smiles. You only ever came to the country club for Hyunjin.

"I just... these people are here for me, supposedly. And yet, I feel so invisible downstairs. I bet no one even noticed my absence."

"I did," he replies instantly, contradicting you vehemently, wanting to dispel the shadows that cloud your mind. "And... I brought you an orange," he adds, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It grows when you beam at him, the chemtrails momentarily forgotten.

"Did you?"

"Mm, here," he swiftly peels the fruit for you, instinctively breaking it into two halves.

"I'm sixteen and I don't know how to peel a tangerine because of you," you giggle, biting into one part eagerly. Water dribbles down the side of your mouth, and Hyunjin delicately wipes it away, his hand cradling your jaw gently.

His heart beats wildly, drowning out the country club's orchestra. He's never been this close to you, noses nearly bumping into one another.

"Don't learn how to," he whispers, licking his lips nervously. He hopes you can't feel the tremor in his hand as it slides down your cheek.

"Why?"

"Then you won't need me anymore," he says honestly, and your eyes widen at his words. Say it, his heart pleads, I can't contain this love anymore. Hyunjin shakes his head, silencing his own thoughts. He'll make room for it; his heart will expand, even if it means bursting at the seams. He can't face your rejection.

"Can I ask you something?" you say after a while, still as close to him.

"Anything."

"Do you ever feel like you don't belong anywhere? You have friends and family, but you feel like..."

"Nobody's son?" he suggests.

"Yeah, nobody's daughter."

"Maybe we're not meant to belong to anyone else but ourselves."

"Isn't that sad?" you ask, bringing an orange wedge to Hyunjin's mouth. "What if I don't always have myself?"

"Well, you'll always have me."

"Do you promise me?" you ask eagerly, eyes wide, tone almost desperate.

"I promise." The fog dissipates, light spilling over your face once again.

"Even though you're so sought after?" you giggle.

"I'm not!"

"You are! Everybody wanted to talk to you downstairs. You're always the man of the hour," you wink, lying down on the floor once again.

"Really? I didn't notice," he says, settling next to you.

"Mm, you never notice anything," you sigh, resting your cheek atop his shoulder.

It's quiet again, save for the tranquil sound of your breaths. Your eyes are trained on the sky, following the path of each plane.

"They look really tiny."

"Maybe we're the small ones," you muse.

Hyunjin doesn't agree. Not when his love for you feels almost ancient, drawn from the depths of the very first fountain of love. It has stayed with him for nine years, intermingled with the very molecules of his being. You can't be small when what he feels for you is grander than the world.

"Maybe we are," he says as he slides an arm underneath your back, pulling you closer to his chest.

"Hyune," you call out softly.

"Mm?" he hums in reply.

"What do you think you're made for?"

I'm here to love you, he wants to say, achingly, fully, on your grand days and your small ones. To fall apart at the altar of your soul and to rise anew, by you, for you. To be yours.

"I'm here to peel you oranges." He whispers instead, his confession, for now.

"And I'm here to eat them, then."

we laugh about nothing as the summer gets cool; it's beautiful how this deep normality settles down over me

"Did you know you have a straight trail of moles on your back?" Hyunjin whispers, his cool breath akin to a gentle zephyr.

"It starts here," he bestows a tender kiss beneath your shoulder blade, as if marking the start of a constellation. "Then you have another one here," his lips brush against your skin, coaxing forth delicate goosebumps, like ripples on a moonlit pond. "And here," he trails down your spine, his mouth weaving a trail only he can see. "And a final one here," he lingers longer near the last mole, lips meeting your lower back delicately, akin to the tender graze of a feather.

If you had told Hyunjin that he would freely kiss your moles, hands trailing down your skin scented with chlorine and vanilla, he would have thought you were insane. But now he has you, because you want him too, against all odds. Hyunjin wasn't alone in his love; every emotion in your soul mirrored his own. Two sides of the same coin. Two halves of the same tangerine.

"And then... it wraps around your stomach," he flips you around until you face him, giddy giggles escaping your lips. "You see it? It goes right here, another straight line," he whispers in wonder, tracing over the moles on your skin as if in worship. There is so much he longs to articulate, words yearning to spill from his mouth. He realizes he can say them now, drape them over your body like a blanket knitted with love.

"Someone plucked stars and arranged them on your skin. You're a galaxy on your own, you know that right? So beautiful," he whispers, eyes wide in adulation, raking over each feature of yours, so much they're seared behind his eyelids. The only sight he sees when he goes to sleep.

"So are you," you smile, hands gently cradling his cheeks. Hands that held him at age seven, then eight, ten, thirteen, and twenty. Hands that dried his tears, patted his back, and played with his hair. Hands that are much more sacred than his own.

"No, you don't understand," he hovers over you, gently smoothing down your hair. "You're so beautiful, so much it dizzies me, consumes me. You consume me, entirely, and I-" He sucks in a deep breath as you smile lovingly, reassuringly.

"I know," you say. "I feel it too."

"I can't believe this is real," he shakes his head, thumb tracing your lower lip gently. "I didn't even plan on confessing when i brought you to this pool. And yet... it feels natural for us to be this way."

You nod, grinning. "Like we belong to one another."

"I told you I'd stay," his eyes soften, capturing you with the same tenderness as always, savoring every part of you.

"You always keep your promises," you smile, hand sliding down the nape of his neck, smoothing a stubborn tuft of hair.

Normal, that's the elusive term he was looking for. It is normal for him to hold you, to kiss you, to look into your eyes and find love swimming in your irises. It is the way it's supposed to be between you. He couldn't ever think of another outcome.

His eyes trail down to your arm, where two moles match perfectly with his, down to the placement, the space separating them both.

"Is this where we kissed each other the most in our past lives?" he trails off, knuckles brushing against your arm gently. You mirror his touch.

"So you believe we're soulmates?"

"Mm, I've always known."

"And why didn't you tell me?" you grin, tilting your head to the side.

"I peeled you tangerines."

His words seem to ignite something within you, memories of each time he peeled you oranges flooding back. Every birthday, each time you were sad, every time the fruit was near.

You stand up, straddling Hyunjin's lap, and then you kiss his eye mole, then the one on his cheek, trailing down his jaw mole, his neck, his arms.

"What are you doing?" he giggles, warm hands on your lower back.

"Making sure those moles show up in our next life too."

And at your words, Hyunjin swore that the citrusy scent of tangerines suddenly wafted in the air.

washing my hair, doing the laundry, late night TV i want you only

Your legs are comfortably propped on top of Hyunjin's, matching pairs of beige pajamas seamlessly merging into one another. The sweet scent of shampoo lingers in the air—a fragrance Hyunjin carefully massaged into your hair twenty minutes ago, his fingers still as gentle as they grazed your scalp, now at the age of twenty-six.

Nearly two decades later, Hyunjin still knows that he loves you. It is a different one from the love he felt at seven—a metamorphosis akin to the moon's phases, from crescent to full, distinct yet continuous. It clung to his being, melted into the very essence of his soul.

"Just how many white shirts do you own?" you giggle, folding another pair of Hyunjin's clothing, the melody of your laughter still rattling the insides of his heart. He smiles sheepishly, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before responding, "You wear half of them with me."

"Your clothes are mine. You agreed on this when you proposed to me," you state matter-of-factly.

"And what else did I agree on?" he smiles, placing two pairs of matching socks in the basket—yours and his.

"That you'd kiss me instead of doing the laundry," you say mischievously, and he chuckles, tilting his head back. The clothes are momentarily forgotten as he lowers your body onto the couch, one hand cradling your head.

"You know I can't say no to you," he smiles, left dimple appearing as it always does when you're near.

"I know," you grin, pulling him down by the hem of his pajamas, your lips meeting his.

Hyunjin still kisses you with the same quiet passion, slowly, as if rediscovering you all over again. His hand cradles your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek gently, as his lips find yours again and again—rosy, plump, seeking solace in your familiar warmth.

He's always been drawn to mysteries, grand things, and overwhelming emotions that defy comprehension. Things he'd never fully know, things he'd never be bored of. Yet, with you, it's different; he knows you, he's learned you, and he loves you more every day—purposefully, by choice, because he can't fathom a reality where he doesn't.

His lips press upon yours one last time before he pulls you onto his lap, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "You smell nice," he whispers.

"I smell like you."

"I know," he smiles, a gentle breeze escaping his lips and caressing your skin.

He closes his eyes, savoring the quietness, the domesticity of the scene—the folded laundry on the table, the background hum of the TV, the meal you'll cook later, waltzing under the fridge's light. You, the one love of his life—the small love and the grand one, the first love and the last one. The embodiment of it all.

Your arms drape around his shoulders as you relax in his hold, your breaths syncing into a tranquil rhythm. He's built himself a home in the ridges of your collarbones, a place for him to rest in the crook of your shoulder blade. Both of you are okay, both of you are safe.

"Do you remember when we were seven? We traveled together for the first time," you speak after a while, a weighty emotion enveloping your voice.

"I do."

"You promised me we'd run away when we grow older."

"I did."

"I don't want to run anymore. I'm content with you, right here," you whisper, and the words feel like sunflowers blooming in Hyunjin's chest. "I was so scared of growing up, of never feeling like I belong. To myself, to anyone. But I do, with you."

"Always," he pulls away, bringing your hand to his mouth, leaving sweet kisses on your ring finger.

"Thank you, my Hyune," you say, tears gathering in your eyes like morning dewdrops on leaves. "Thank you for peeling my oranges."

Your nose brushes against his, his thumb drawing circles on your palm.

"Thank you for pretending you don't know how to."

[hyvneluv]

Ate once again

resentment | by design chapter two

pairing: hyunjin x reader ; chan x reader | wc: 23.4k | genre: adult romance | warnings: heavy angst ; heartbreak ; themes of mental health struggles ; themes of grief ; complicated feelings ; explicit sexual content. reader discretion is advised. this series contains heavy themes that could be upsetting to some. if you're concerned it might be an issue for you, please read the unabridged list of warnings, which also contains nsfw warnings. this work is for adult audiences since it contains mature themes and explicit sexual content.

Hope takes such a long time to die. But it dies.  Hyunjin’s story goes like this. He fell in love and then he fell in despair. And when he reached the bottom of it all, he had to climb back up. And he did. Only, nothing was ever the same after.

Resentment can only exist in a place where there was once love.

To be more accurate, love is often still very much present as resentment sneaks in, as it permeates one’s skin and makes a home out of their body. Grudges don’t arise out of pure hatred—at least not in Hyunjin’s eyes. They come from a place of love, the same way disappointment does. You can’t ever be disappointed at somebody you dislike, or somebody you’re indifferent to. No, resentment is much like a flower and love is the garden. The first bloom appears and you wonder why. Because you don’t remember planting those seeds. Yet it grows, furtively, but anchoring itself in the soil with strong roots. And then it turns out the flowers are poisonous and invasive, and they’ve killed all the other ones.

Hyunjin knew resentment intimately. It started at a young age when he began showing interest and skill in painting. He must have been no more than seven or eight, visiting his grandparents’ cottage house away from the city. Hyunjin wasn’t particularly fond of summer vacation because he was an only child and his parents kept him busy during the summer, so he couldn’t see his friends very often. 

But he liked the cottage house. That particular day was especially sunny but not too warm, so the grown-ups had decided to spend the afternoon outside, sitting around the patio table under a large parasol with a variety of snacks and drinks before them. A retro music radio station was playing American oldies from a small radio cassette player and the air smelled like freshly cut grass. 

Hyunjin was sitting at the table too, only he wasn’t a part of the conversation. And truth be told, he didn’t understand most of it anyway. He was keeping himself busy with paints and brushes that his grandfather always kept around. He had some that nobody was allowed to touch, not even his son, but Hyunjin was welcome to help himself in the leftovers or spares. Mind you, there was nothing suboptimal about those leftovers because everything was of professional quality. Only, if his grandfather decided he no longer wanted a certain shade of blue in his palette, then it ended up in the leftover basket.

“Look at him go!” his grandfather had said at one point. It had even taken Hyunjin a few seconds to realize he was speaking about him but not to him. “Hell, Dhako. Seems like your boy is bound to be the next big thing in the family. He’s even better than you were two or three years older than that!” 

Resentment. What an ugly, awful feeling. It smells foul and tastes even worse, and Hyunjin had been choking on it since childhood. 

He wouldn’t say that his father hated him, no, hence the resentment, the grudge. Hyunjin wasn’t yet aware of it at the time. His mind was too young to comprehend the intricacies of the situation. He just felt like he wasn’t good enough for his dad who kept berating and diminishing him. Later—much later—Hyunjin would come to understand that it was what made him into the man he was today. He couldn’t know for sure, but would he have developed his artistic abilities to that extent if he hadn’t been animated with the vivid desire to please his father, which prompted him to try hard and harder so he could improve?

Or maybe this was a delusion, an attempt at making peace with it.

Hyunjin’s childhood was in every possible way rather unconventional. Both of his parents were artists, just like his grandfather had been, and his father before him. His mom taught art to children with disabilities and his father worked as a curator at a museum. It meant that Hyunjin was often at the museum growing up. In a way, it’s the museum that raised him. His mother loved him very dearly but was too attached to her job, and his father didn’t care enough about him to participate significantly in his education. It was the wooden floors and warm lighting of the museum that were his home—the museum was close to his school and his mother often worked in the evenings, as she gave art workshops in hospitals. 

So Hyunjin would sit in his father’s office quietly and do his homework or read a book. When he was a little older, Hyunjin was allowed to walk in the museum if he was accompanied by someone, and there was always someone who wanted to show him around anyway. The employees were all so nice to him, and it was only later—again, much later—that Hyunjin realized they had noticed the gaps in the love his father had, or rather, didn’t have for him, and were trying to compensate for it.

Then his father got another job, one that required traveling. His mother was opposed to it and they fought a lot but Hyunjin pretended not to hear it. He would stay in his room, light up his desk with a small flashlight held between two books, and paint while his father called his wife names, and vice versa. Hyunjin didn’t know this at the time and neither did his mother, but for many years, his father became an art forgery specialist. He traveled all over the world, sponsored by a network of other, bigger criminals, to help create forgeries and even to falsely authenticate fake paintings as real. 

Hyunjin was well into his teenage years when he found out, and he found out when his father was beaten up almost to death, in America, for selling a fake Cézanne to the wrong people. He almost died. He was supposed to die, his corpse left out in the open to send a message to the other forgers in his network, yet he pulled through. Since he had been living under various fabricated identities, he was able to return to Korea and be Naro’s descendant again. From then on, their family always had a lot of money but his mother kept working anyway. His father did not work, not that Hyunjin could tell, although he’d say he had ‘meetings’ and ‘stuff’ to do. 

Looking at Death right in the eyes did not change Hwang Dhako. It did not make him softer, or kinder. It did not make him appreciate the little things in life. It did not make him love his son more. It did not make him resent his son less.

All the while, Hyunjin painted. When he still lived at home, his father would barge into his room just to criticize whatever he was working on. If Hyunjin was doing watercolors, he’d tell him he didn’t know how to use them yet, that he should stick to something simpler, less volatile, like acrylic. If Hyunjin did acrylic, he would then tell him that it was for children, that he could do better than that, and that ‘real men paint with oil’. Or whatever the fuck. 

And when Hyunjin painted with oil? Then he did not know how to mix his pigments correctly. He did not know how to blend colors. His work was bland. His work was too colorful. The lines were too harsh. There was not enough contrast. The theme was boring. Or impossible to understand. Maybe he should do something else. Not everyone is meant to be an artist, but then Hyunjin wouldn’t be a good fit to be a curator, professor, or historian either. 

The worst part is that Dhako would utter these things and make it sound like he said it out of genuine concern. He would say these things as though he was a master teaching his pupil. He would say these things like he cared, like they came from a place of love. But the love had been tainted and resentment had taken over.

Hyunjin had assumed that his father’s resentment would be the worst he would ever have to endure. Only, he was wrong about that. And about so many other things.

Hyunjin met Dara when he ran out of space in his apartment and decided to rent a studio so he could keep working in a comfortable setting. 

This came after his multiple attempts at attending university. He tried in Seoul first before choosing to relocate to Italy, where he assumed an immersion among some of the world’s most famous masterpieces would help him major. When that didn’t work, he went to Paris with the same hopes. That worked a little better, only, instead of graduating in one subject, he jumped from one major to the other, unable to decide what he liked most. Or what was most realistic for him. For a long while, he did not mind—he even enjoyed it, figuring he was opening doors for himself even though he wasn’t actively honing just one skill at a time. 

Art history, photography, visual and studio arts, creative writing, and even a little bit of animation. He liked all of it, of course. Happiness had never been Hyunjin’s default state but that period of his life had been when he was closest to it. In the sense of contentment, fulfillment, and how easy it was to go through his days. Being away from home and his father was a big part of it, but he was curious by nature, and he felt good in an environment where he was learning. 

For a couple of years, things were good. He got good grades in most of his classes and participated actively during lectures, although at the end of the day, none of it mattered since he never lingered anywhere for long. Still, it earned him the good graces of professors and students alike, boosting his confidence, and broadening his horizons.

Until Paris. In Paris, Hyunjin studied Impressionism a good amount, finding himself fascinated by it. He carefully researched Monet’s chaotically deliberate brushstrokes and Renoir’s lifelike lighting. He tried to replicate Sisley’s incredible contrasts and Morisot’s rich textures. He spent a lot of time in museums, which, to him, still felt like home. It did not matter which museum it was—they all reminded him of his childhood and the afternoons spent among masterpieces, evading his father and taking in the sights.

Melancholy permeated these memories and yet, Hyunjin was fond of them nonetheless. Maybe because there was so much beauty among the darkness. Maybe because despite his father’s resentment, Hyunjin had never stopped painting. He had never stopped creating. Maybe because by then, he had realized that his devotion to painting came from the void left by his father, and his need, as a boy and then a teenager, to fill it with something beautiful. A need that was most definitely more a habit, a self-defense mechanism, than it was anything else. Still. 

He was at home in museum exhibit rooms, with their high ceilings and worn-out floors and whispers. He liked to listen to what people said. Many of them were, of course, commenting on the art in their vicinity. It did not matter to him whether they had never been in a museum before or if they were the art director themselves. To Hyunjin, there was no distinction—art ought to be appreciated by anybody who needed it. To him, art was home, in a way that was more intimate, more intrinsic, than museums. He believed that art could and should become part of every living person. Everybody should be exposed to it in some kind of way—he was persuaded it could make the world a better place. 

So he listened to them. The people. The Karens who didn’t get it. The old men who smelled like cigarettes and pretended to understand all of it. The other students. The average museum-goers, the experimented ones, the painters, the sculptors, the little children who held their mother’s hand and looked at the art with fascination despite being intimidated by it. 

In a way, this became Hyunjin’s school, and it was on those days that he learned the most. At least it felt like it. Often, he would sketch them in the notebook he kept on himself at all times. To remember what they said. To remember what they thought of the colors and the composition of this or that painting. It fed his soul in a way nothing had before, and Hyunjin came close to some sort of epiphany during that time—close enough that he could feel its warmth on his fingertips, but too far for him to even know what it was he was reaching out for. A young man, arm outstretched, trying to seize the sun and keep it in his grasp, but blinded by it. He was close, so close, to discovering something bright and beautiful. 

And then he ended up in Florian Auclair’s class. Florian, by all means, did not look like an asshole. He was younger than most professors and had been given a class almost immediately after earning his PhD. He was a tall man, although not quite as tall as Hyunjin, with a quiet, monotone voice that made it hard to stay awake during his class. He had built his course with other professors of the department and it was intended to be innovative—it was neither a theoretical course nor a practical one. Or rather, it was both at once, and more. The syllabus included visits to specific museums or even locations in the city, and Hyunjin had been looking forward to it since day one. In fact, he was so excited when Auclair was explaining his syllabus and giving details that Hyunjin took notes. For a brief instant then, he thought, maybe, that was it. Maybe he could be a professor like this. He hadn’t considered it before because he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to teach art history, art theory, or practical courses. But this brand new course offered him a vision of what education could be, and, for a brief instant, gave him some sort of peace regarding his mother, too.

She had always been so devoted to it. The teaching of art. In a way that was more addiction than devotion perhaps—like she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help staying late at work to paint with palliative patients. Even though it meant leaving her son behind. Even though it meant leaving her son to be raised by a museum, its employees, its changing collections. It was not because she did not love him. 

Later—much later—Hyunjin realized it all came from a lack of love for herself. It was the only way her mind allowed her to feel a sense of reward, of purpose. She wasn’t a bad mother. She was a pretty good one. Motherhood just was not her purpose in life. 

Hyunjin didn’t resent her for it, but he resented the whole concept of being an art teacher. In any way. Which was paradoxical considering the amount of art classes he had been taking. He resented it because he understood—at least now he did. When he stood in a corner of an exhibition room and heard somebody ponder out loud to their companion, about a piece, an art movement, anything, he had to work very hard to resist joining the conversation. And he resisted because it would be out of place to interrupt two strangers to art-splain them, exposing himself as some sort of museum stalker all the while. 

But god, did it feel good to share his passion. His knowledge. He had been raised into it, into art, brushstrokes and blending and themes and pigments. They were a part of him, of his soul—he was nothing without art. And the dopamine rush it gave him to share this with others simply could not be described with words. It cost him a lot—especially in his social life. So it truly was around that time that he began understanding his mother, and his resentment for teaching receded, like an ocean at low tide, leaving the sand damp and smooth behind, ready to be molded into something else again. 

Florian Auclair was a brilliant painter. He shared some of his work with his students in that first class, also explaining everything he hoped he would teach them and how they could all learn together. They would meet artists and curators and more, if he was able to book everyone he wished. 

When Auclair dismissed the class, Hyunjin stayed behind, as did a few others. They stood at the front of the vast lecture hall, sitting on the desks or leaning on the blackboard. Just four of them and Auclair, who answered their questions and discussed certain points that had been brought forward during his presentation. At first, Hyunjin listened, mostly, as he figured others might have the same interrogations as he did. Mostly, he was interested in how their work would be graded and wished to learn more about the paper they’d have to write at the end of the semester so that he could begin his research immediately. The conversation was lighthearted. Florian Auclair was fluent in both French and English and Italian as well, apparently. He gave everyone the information they needed.

And then Hyunjin asked him about the paper. Auclair seemed a bit reluctant to drop too much information about it so early—it would give him and the others currently present an advantage that others wouldn’t have—but he still mentioned that they would be required to investigate and research one art movement of their choice. It was a huge relief to Hyunjin who already knew exactly what he intended to write about. When he thanked Auclair, the other students did the same, all of them shaking their professor’s hand one by one—a short, polite gesture during which Florian asked for their name. 

Almost as though life required a dramatic effect, Hyunjin was last. His hand was still squeezing Auclair’s when he said those two little words. “Hwang Hyunjin.” Auclair let go of his hand, his chin lifting a few inches as he gave him an appraising look, his facial expression turning stiff and cold.

Hyunjin wasn’t an idiot—he was well aware that Auclair knew exactly who he was, only, he did not let it show to the others. He looked like he was trying to play it cool with Hyunjin as well, not acknowledging anything, and everybody went on their way. 

The week after, Auclair’s class would take place not in the lecture hall but at the Musée d’Orsay, where everybody would be required to choose one painting and sketch it with as much detail as they could. A few weeks from now, they would travel to the South of France to visit another museum in Montpellier. There, they would have to find a second painting from a different art movement and sketch this one as well. 

Then would come the actual assignment, which was to swap the art movement and style of the two paintings and sketch both once again. Ultimately, they would pick one and turn it into a proper painting using the medium of their choice. The assignment was exciting and Hyunjin just couldn’t wait—he knew way before he made it to the museum which two paintings he would be using for the assignment.

Orsay was full of Monet’s paintings—he appreciated his unique and recognizable style, so he wanted to explore it further. As for the second painting, Hyunjin would study Alexandre Cabanel’s work since he liked his moody and evocative pieces. The task was daunting as both painters had drastically different approaches and styles, but the challenge only made it better and more enticing. 

The light was just right when Hyunjin sat down to sketch Monet’s Nymphéas Bleus. Another student was with him, having picked the same painting. She was nice and she was pretty, too. They chatted as they sketched and it took Hyunjin a solid hour before he awkwardly asked her if she wanted to have coffee with him after class. She blushed violently and accepted before excusing herself for just a few seconds, asking him if he could keep an eye on her stuff, which he did gladly. 

That was when Auclair walked by him and looked at his sketch with an expression dangerously close to disdain. Hyunjin was used to it because his father had made him this way, but he couldn’t deny that it hurt nonetheless, especially coming from a professor. Here. In Paris. Just a few feet away from a piece by one of his favorite painters, which he was sketching.

“Is there a problem, Monsieur?” he asked, taking a deep breath as his mood swayed between furious and devastated. 

Auclair shrugged. “Not really. No issue here, just a little lackluster, don’t you think?” 

Lackluster. Hyunjin put down his pencil, standing up. “I’m not done sketching it, Monsieur,” he replied, speaking slowly, warmth spreading at the nape of his neck. 

The professor blinked, tilting his head just a little. “I hope you know you won’t be getting any favors just because of your family name—not in my class, non.” 

There it was. It wasn’t the first time a situation such as this one happened in Hyunjin’s life—his ancestry had haunted him during his entire academic career. Either he was getting it too easy as teachers and sports coaches tried to get noticed by his parents, especially his father, or they were making him work twice as hard, as though he had to prove he was worthy of his name, that he was someone beyond it.

“I hope you know I wasn’t expecting any favors, Monsieur Auclair,” Hyunjin retorted, mimicking perfectly the professor’s displeased tone. 

“I thought you might choose Cornelia’s Colors for this assignment,” Auclair went on, completely ignoring Hyunjin’s response. “Wouldn’t it be fitting?” 

Hyunjin swallowed a grunt. He had visited the museum the first week he moved here, seeing Naro’s vibrant and famous painting of the pink bird for the second time in his life. He didn’t even remember the first as he was just a small child, on vacation with his parents. 

“I don’t think it would be fitting, no.” He paused—just for a second. “It is a beautiful piece, though.”

“Of course. Stunning. Your—what, great grandfather? Great, great, great grandfather? It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?—sure was a master of pigments.” 

The cold and cordial tone of the conversation made Hyunjin want to punch Auclair in the face. “He was,” he admitted. “My grandfather still has some of the books that were in his library, about color theory and even chemistry. He truly wanted to mix the most beautiful colors.” At that time, Hyunjin couldn’t know it yet, but his grandfather would pass away that year, and he would inherit all those precious volumes as well as his grandad’s beloved painting supplies. To his only son, he left money. Nothing of sentimental value. And for that, Hyunjin’s father would resent him. A lot. 

Auclair pressed his tongue into his cheek, a cloud passing in his already dark eyes. “I heard a lot about you, Hwang. Some say you are a prodigy. Others say you’re reaping a legacy that isn’t yours to benefit from. I’m looking forward to finding out which one it is.”

Through gritted teeth, Hyunjin retorted, “I’m neither of these things. I’m just a guy who paints. I paint because I was born into a family of artists. That’s it.”

“Yeah, I have to give you that one, Hwang. You are just a guy who paints.” And then he walked away. 

Hyunjin stood, dazed, for a few moments, lost in his thoughts. Part of him wanted to fuck off, leave this museum and this city, and return home. Because Auclair was wrong. Because Auclair was right. All his life, Hyunjin had only been that—Hwang Naro’s descendant. He was pretty sure it was the only reason he got into this school in the first place. 

It felt like they—as in, a general they—were expecting something of him, only he didn’t know what it was. And maybe they didn’t even know it themselves. But everybody was just expecting. Waiting in anticipation. Hoping he would turn out to be something more. To be something at all. Something broke inside of him that day, as shame overtook him in the middle of one of the world’s most famous museums. 

It was just a name. It just so happened that Naro had a son, who had a son, who also had a son, and then that son had a son, who he named Dhako, and Dhako had a son who he named Hyunjin. Somehow, the name had persisted this way, through a long line of only sons. It meant nothing. One of these people could have been a daughter and then the chain would have been broken if she had married and taken her husband’s name. 

It was stupid. Ridiculous. And frankly, it was a little backward and macho. 

It was that day that Hyunjin realized, for the first time, that not only was he expected to somehow live up to the name, but he was also expected to continue the bloodline. He was Naro’s last descendant. 

“Hyunjin?” He jumped when the girl addressed him after coming back. Her cheeks had returned to their normal color, but she was staring at him with a frown. “Are you alright?” The girl’s name was Romane, and she looked like she was genuinely concerned.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He said it out of habit, but happiness had never really been a familiar thing to him. It was a foreign concept. Something he knew existed but couldn’t comprehend. “I just…” 

He let his sentence trail off and become nothing and walked away, out of this particular room. He knew where his feet were taking him. His mind was blank, much like a canvas before it was claimed by an artist and they did something to it.

It took only a few minutes before he found himself standing in front of Cornelia’s Colors. It was in a smaller room, adjacent to another exposition hall that was a lot more crowded because it had a Van Gogh—Starry Night—in it. No, not that one. That one, the one that everybody knows, came after and was not currently a part of Orsay’s collection. Starry Night Over the Rhone is similar in composition and color, but less chaotic. Vincent’s soul, Hyunjin presumed, was a little more whole when he painted that one. A sublime work with lifelike lights and beautiful contrasts. 

Anyway. Hyunjin was almost alone in the room as he faced the pink bird, which was shaded with blue and black, flying in a vibrant sky. He wanted to touch it, feel the oil under his fingertips, study the expert brushstrokes. He wanted to become this bird and be beautiful too. He wanted to be something like that. He wanted to go home.

He wanted to start over. Not just college, which, arguably, he had started over a few times already. He wanted to go back to when he was just a child. Innocent. Young enough that he didn’t even know what his family name was. Young enough that he could run to his mother when he was upset and she would pick him up and sing him a lullaby. 

Young enough that his father didn’t resent him.

If he was given the opportunity to go back and change something, then he would only change one thing—he would never, not even once, pick up a paintbrush. In this life, he was made of art. It was all that he had. All that he was. It meant that he couldn’t give it up. Or rather, he knew that it would kill him when he would, in fact, give up. 

Hyunjin took a few steps back, observing the painting from afar, observing the people who were looking at it. There was an old man who didn’t linger for very long. And then, from the next room where Starry Night was shown came a young couple. The woman was speaking incredibly fast, as though she was afraid to forget her thoughts before she could express them. He listened to their conversation when he realized that she was explaining to her boyfriend—no, husband, if he could believe their ring fingers—the difference between the two Starry Nights, also mentioning other pieces from Van Gogh’s nocturne series.

Then she saw it. Cornelia’s Colors. A soft gasp spilled from her delicate lips, painted in a pink that wasn’t unlike the one she was currently looking at. She covered her mouth with a faintly trembling hand while her husband was taking her other one in his, bringing her closer to the frame so she could really see it.

“What’s this one, babe?” the man asked with a strong Australian accent, leaning closer to read the description. 

She turned to him, then to the painting again. “It’s by Naro. He’s the one who did my favorite painting.” She pressed herself closer to her husband. “It expresses the beauty and freedom of a young woman’s heart.” Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” 

It was clear to Hyunjin that this man definitely found the painting pleasant to look at but in the same way he would find a sunset pleasant to look at, too. In any case, he delivered a line that surely got him laid that night. “It is,” he admitted with a playful smile. “But you’re prettier.” 

The woman buried her face in her hands, elbowing his side. “Please, for the love of god, Chr—”

Hyunjin didn’t stay to see the rest of it. He did not need to. He did not want to. 

He hadn’t admitted this to anybody before, and not even to himself, but he wanted that. He wanted his work to be hung on a wall and for it to make people cry, too. Or laugh. He wanted to inspire them to love and to hate and to exist. He wanted lipstick-coated lips to gasp upon seeing it. He wanted to force beauty into the world. He wanted lovers to think of his paintings when they made love or when they fought. He wanted students to come to the museum to sketch one of his pieces. He wanted to be the subject of PhD theses. He wanted to be remembered.

He wanted his art to matter. And he wanted it to matter because of what it was more than because of who had painted it. But, selfishly, he wanted to matter, too.

He wanted to be somebody’s favorite painter. 

Romane was still waiting for him near the Monet, not at all absorbed by her task, mostly glancing around to find him. She seemed relieved when he joined her again and did not press him when he didn’t talk. They drew together in silence, only exchanging a few words when Hyunjin asked to borrow her pencil sharpener. An hour later, when Auclair gathered the class together again outside the museum so he could give them more information about the assignment and next week’s class, Hyunjin avoided his gaze and looked at the sky instead. Then, when everybody was dismissed, he turned to Romane.

“Wanna go have a drink instead?” 

She blushed again but she nodded. They shared a meal and drinks and talked a lot. She was really, really pretty, and fun. Her medium of choice was oil pastels on canvas, but ultimately she aspired to become a researcher and study the science behind art pieces. Hyunjin found that very cool. When both of them had enough drinks, he asked her why she had agreed to come with him today.

It was such a stupid question too, and he knew it before he even finished uttering it. “Is it because of my name?” 

She averted her gaze, choosing to focus on her glass, which she emptied in one go. “No.” 

“I wouldn’t be upset if it were the case.” And that was true. He would be lying if he said he never used it to get laid. 

“But it’s not.” She licked her lips nervously. “I thought you were mysterious. And cute.” 

Romane lived with four other roommates in a tiny apartment but it was still closer to the bar than his place was. He fucked her twice, once against the wall of the bedroom she shared with another girl who was doing her homework in the living room, then again in her bed. He fucked her maybe a little harder than he needed to. He fucked her as hard as he would have wanted to punch that Auclair cunt in the face. He fucked her hard enough that she would remember him. 

They dated for a couple of months. The sex was great. One day, she asked if he wanted to fuck her ass. She had never done it before and wanted to try. Another time she wanted to have sex in a public space so she sucked him off at the back of a train. Then came the trip to Montpellier for Auclair’s class. They walked together in the museum, hand in hand, like a real couple would. And they were a real couple, Hyunjin figured. But something felt off, he just couldn’t figure out what. 

Still, she sat with him when he went to sketch the second painting he had chosen, which was Alexandre Cabanel’s Phaedra. Ultimately, he wanted to paint this one using Monet’s impressionist style and color palette, which would fundamentally change the painting, and even its meaning in some way. 

“Are you sure you want to sketch this one too?” Hyunjin asked Romane soon after they settled near the painting, which was rather large. 

She shrugged. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you don’t have to use the same painting as I do.” 

He saw it then, in Romane’s eyes. A certain darkness, tangible and awful. “I know,” she replied. “Do you want me to sketch something else?” 

Hyunjin sighed. He had noticed that in the past couple of weeks especially, Romane seemed to seek his validation and his affection too, using methods that he could only imagine she would come to regret one day. On days when he was a little busier and couldn’t text her as much, she would drag him to a private bathroom somewhere and give him head, not letting him return the favor. On days when Hyunjin was a little less patient, more irritated, more stressed, she would send him nudes or even videos of herself masturbating. 

But it was only then, in Montpellier, that Hyunjin realized the magnitude of it. How fucked up it was. He hated himself for not seeing it before. For letting Romane become pathetic because he wasn’t able to give her what she truly wanted, which was love. 

“You can sketch whatever you want, Romie,” he replied, keeping his voice low, troubled by the realization that had just hit him. “It’s your assignment, your grade.”

She stayed by his side for a few minutes before moving a little farther to another painting. Another Cabanel—his very famous Fallen Angel. The day went by as it normally would have—Hyunjin endured a bit more of Auclair’s backhanded compliments and snarky comments, and he sat in the silence Romane imposed on him. 

They had dinner together nonetheless and the mood improved when they discussed their plans for their respective paintings. She would paint the waterlilies in Cabanel’s style, she said, insisting once again that she could pick a different painter entirely if he preferred. 

He took her back to the hotel room he rented for the both of them. There, he told her she shouldn’t fold herself into whatever shape she thought others wanted. He told her she should find her own voice, her own ways, that she should carve her own path, even if it meant some people would like her less. It would never be a bad thing because she would discover new aspects of herself every day. 

She cried a lot, asking him if he hated her. And of course he didn’t. She was still crying when they laid down on the bed to sleep, so he held her in his arms and apologized. 

But he knew that she knew he was right. He knew, also, that this would be their last night together. So he fucked her as hard as he had the first time, drilling her into the mattress, pulling her hair, fucking her from behind. She melted a little more with each thrust, her pussy throbbing around him, soaking the sheets beneath her. She came so hard she almost blacked out, milking him in the process, but he fucked her through their orgasm. 

It was her who broke up with him as they recovered from the intense and sloppy sex. “I wanted you to love me so badly that I completely forgot who I am.” What a sad thing. “I’m so angry inside, Hyunjin. I almost hate you.”

He knew that feeling intimately. It wasn’t just love, and it wasn't hate. It was something else, something much worse, uglier. Insidious. 

Resentment.

Hyunjin dropped out of Auclair’s class right after he handed him the painting, Phaedra, in the impressionist style. He was excessively proud of it, having worked many hours on it, so much that he would surely fail other classes. It didn’t matter though. 

When he went to meet Auclair in his office to give it to him, Hyunjin informed him that he wouldn’t return to his class. Or to any class. He had made up his mind and already bought a plane ticket to go back home.

“Why did you give me this then?” Florian Auclair asked, staring at the canvas Hyunjin brought.

“Because I wanted you to see it.” He was proud of it. The painting. It had been tricky to produce after all, and the idea behind the assignment was clever. He had learned a lot through it. “Also, I just wanted to know if you resented me.”

That seemed to deeply unsettle Florian. He put the canvas down, studying it a few more seconds before turning to Hyunjin again. That was new for him—to be blunt about things, direct. To ask for the information he needed. But he had come to realize that living in uncertainty was worse than living with a truth he didn’t like. 

He had learned a few things about Auclair, mostly by asking around the people he knew in the department. Because, well, his name was known, and professors often came to him for discussions. And this is what he learned through asking—that Auclair had heard that the head of the department would offer Hyunjin a course of his own, should he choose to keep studying at their institution. However, it meant that Auclair’s experimental course would probably have to be removed from the program to accommodate him.

“It’s alright if you do,” Hyunjin added. “But I want to know and I think I’m entitled to that knowledge.” 

Maybe Auclair couldn’t admit to it. “No, I don’t resent you. I resent the way the system works.”

Hyunjin didn’t pretend he didn’t know what this was about. “I liked your course a lot. I thought you were a visionary. I wouldn’t have let them take it off the program. I wouldn’t even have wanted a course of my own. I was never a threat. They gave you a whole course right as you graduated, too.” 

Florian Auclair went to the window of his office to stare at it for a few seconds while he thought this over. It was a rather cloudy day. 

“I appreciate that you think like that and cared enough to come and tell me,” Auclair said, his gaze still turned to the cityscape outside. “They gave me a class, yes. They’re on my ass constantly though, making sure I’m not wasting their precious money by teaching it. But I know it would have been different for you. And I know you will always have it easier than any of us.” He turned to Hyunjin then. “You’re one of the best students I ever had. Your understanding of color and the way you use it…” He sighed.

Hyunjin came a little closer. “So why do you hate me?” He just needed to know. 

“I don’t hate you, Hwang. You piss me off. You’re either the best contemporary painter currently alive or you will be within a few years. But it doesn’t even fucking matter. You could be the worst and you would still be standing here in front of me anyway. Have you never thought about it? Why do you think schools let you retake courses, change majors, and it never affects your GPA? These schools—this very university—all want to be the one to hand Naro’s last descendant his diploma.” 

As much as it hurt, Hyunjin had to respect it. He looked at his assignment again, seeing it from a different eye now. He saw it all—the countless hours he spent practicing and working on his technique, all the times his father shat on his work, all the times Hyunjin had to start a painting over because he wasn’t happy with the result. He saw all the hours spent at the museum when he was younger. He saw his professors shaking his hand and praising him.

Auclair was right. 

None of it mattered.

“I think you’re doing the right thing,” Auclair added after a while. “Dropping out, I mean. All you’ll ever get here is either bias or prejudice. You should find your own way.” 

And that’s exactly what Hyunjin did. He packed his things, left, and started over. Again.

When he returned to Seoul, Hyunjin stayed with a friend he knew from his old university while he was looking for a place of his own. It was not bad at all. He had always liked Seungmin a lot anyway, even though the two of them didn’t have a lot in common at first glance. They got along well, like brothers. 

Despite being busy with his job, he helped Hyunjin a lot. He helped cheer him up after the Paris fiasco. He helped him find a job—a paid internship at the company he worked at. They were a media company with different markets such as two radio stations, podcasts, book publishing, magazine publishing, and even a small video game studio that was just starting. Hyunjin didn’t need the job per se—while he wasn’t crazy rich he had enough money to live well. But Seungmin insisted that it would keep him busy with something else, and Hyunjin had to agree. So for a few months, he would go to work and then come back home and paint, extending his stay at Seungmin’s place because it was great to live with him and it was easier this way.

Until Seungmin met a girl and it turned out to be a perfect match. 

Hyunjin found a nice apartment not too far from the office. The building was a little old but he didn’t mind—the light was good in the living room thanks to the large windows. That was the place where he painted his first commissioned work—Seungmin had asked him to paint his girlfriend’s cat so he could give it to her on her birthday. Hyunjin didn’t want to take money from him but Seungmin insisted. I want to be your first client. It made Hyunjin smile. The cat was really cute. 

Hyunjin opened an Instagram account for his work. He did it more for himself than for others, feeling like it could also serve the purpose of organizing and archiving his work. Things happened quickly then—he started selling some paintings while opening a few slots for commissions here and there. It was hard, sometimes. To let them go. The paintings. Hyunjin didn’t have much—all he had was his family name, painting supplies, and windows in his living room. He lived a rather solitary life, using his lunch breaks to sketch what he wanted to paint in the evening and his weekends to produce even more art. 

He painted. A lot. With all of his heart. It was all he had. It was all he was. It was all he could do. It was all he was meant to be. A man standing before a blank canvas. A man saturating it with the colors of his soul. It felt wrong to sell them. It felt as though he was selling parts of himself to strangers. He thought about that at night when he was in bed. By now, dozens of strangers had his sorrows, his joys, his worries, his love, his pain hung in their living room. Or maybe in a hallway, or their bedroom. 

The absence of resentment meant an absence of love. For months, he didn’t speak to any member of his family. He just painted. It was better this way. But it was very lonely. 

He was very alone. 

There were days when the sunlight filtering through his windows wasn’t enough to warm him up. Music wasn’t enough to cover the heavy silence of his empty apartment. The feeling of his paintbrushes applying oils on the canvas wasn’t enough to fill his empty heart. 

He’d go out then, with Seungmin or other people from the office who weren’t really his friends. They were just people from the office. It was better to keep people at arm’s length. Sometimes he’d even go out alone. Usually he had a few drinks and, rarely, went home with a girl. Or a guy. Their place—never his. He didn’t want people to exist in the same space where his art existed. It was fine if they saw and used his body for one night, but he did not want them to see the colors of his soul. It wasn’t like he had series and series of hookups, but sometimes it felt good to pretend. To pretend he wasn’t lonely and destined to die alone. To pretend he could be loved. To pretend he wasn’t just flesh and bones, that something, a small fire perhaps, still existed within him. 

Every time somebody bought a painting from him, he figured it was because of his family name, despite the fact that he signed his art with his first name only. Every time somebody opened their legs for him, he figured it was because of who he was, even though they had no fucking clue who he was. 

None of it mattered. But it did not mean there was no pain even though it didn’t matter. 

He painted. It was all he was meant to do. He painted until he ran out of space in his apartment to store the paintings, the canvases, his paints, and the shipping supplies required to wrap and send out his art. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. His father. Romane. Auclair. The other professors, those who were too nice to him. The ones who resented him. 

Over time, his paintings changed. He painted less. He found an art studio for rent, furnished it and transferred all of his supplies there. He thought it would help to keep art and his life separate, only there was nothing to separate—they were made of the same things, the same atoms. 

Hyunjin went to the HR department of the office to officially quit the job. He wanted it to be clear that he wasn’t quitting because he disliked working there, only, he had decided to be an artist full-time. He spent more time elaborating his projects and more time painting them, too. He tried all sorts of new techniques and mediums. 

It just so happened that the CEO of the company was also visiting HR that day, and this is how Hyunjin met Lee Minho. “I saw your work,” he told Hyunjin. “I’d like to buy something from you. Want some coffee?” 

Hyunjin was largely intimidated by the man—but that lasted only a few minutes. It turned out Minho was a warm, kind man, clever and passionate, too. He told Hyunjin that someone from upper management had sent him a link to his page. 

They talked about Hyunjin’s tortuous path in college and they talked about Minho’s love for camping. Despite being very rich, he had a very grounded attitude. 

“So, about the commission…” Hyunjin started.

“Oh, no no no. Not a commission,” Minho specified. “Just paint something, and I’ll buy it.” Seeing that Hyunjin was a little uneasy, he went on. “It’s your creative mind that I’m after—I’m not looking to have my vision come true. Paint whatever you want, however you want it, whichever size. Doesn’t matter. It can take a month or a year.” He pulled a business card out of his desk but before he handed it to him, he wrote a phone number at the back. “That’s my personal phone. Call me when it’s done. You name your price then. Any price.” 

As Hyunjin walked home that day, he realized that Lee Minho was the first person since his grandfather to blindly trust him and his abilities and to believe in him. Not once during today’s conversation did he bring up Naro or any of his art. He asked Hyunjin about his favorite locations in Europe and told him about the best fishing spots he had visited. He was too cultured and too intelligent not to know who Hyunjin was, so the omission was intentional. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But he knew exactly what he wanted to paint and he couldn’t wait to start. 

He had been touched by Minho’s honest, almost pure appreciation of his camping trips. The way he described nature—or rather, the way he described the way he felt when he was surrounded by it. It made sense to Hyunjin to paint something reminiscent of that so he bought a huge canvas and a lot of green pigments, and got to work.

Hyunjin met Dara when he was about one week into Minho’s painting. He had stopped taking commissions and had stopped selling paintings, too. It no longer felt right to let people pay money for anything less than his absolute best. He had come to realize this—that even if he put his whole entire soul into something, it did not make it any better. It just made it more real. 

Dara moved into the art studio next to his. It was much smaller than his but fully renovated.

It’s a tale as old as time. A lonely guy meets a lonely girl and it creates sparks. One loves the other very much. The other is also in love, but their heart lives in a cage. 

And the sparks become a wildfire, ravaging them both. 

Some days, Hyunjin almost wished that Dara had never fallen in love with him—she wouldn’t resent him then. It would be easier if she just straight-up hated him. 

It’s a tale as old as time. Finding love and losing it, only to realize we never really had it in the first place. It’s such a strange feeling, like trying to hold onto sand and watching it spill from our cupped hands. 

Except you're in love with the sand, desperately so.

Jeongin waved at you frantically. “Boss! You decided to come!” 

It was damn near impossible to resist the young man’s wide smile as he watched you approach. It was his third summer here and he just loved opening day, so you always made sure he got to work on the site for at least a few hours. Enough time for him to eat some barbecue, some ice cream, and to chat with people. He was especially popular with the grandmas—they all adored him, and he left the premises with his pockets full of candy. 

This was why Jaime had come in today to be at the shop for a few hours, and also why Chris’ mom had taken a break in her retirement to take care of the office and check-ins. She didn’t like parties too much and was happy to help. Not that you or Chris had asked her. She had just assumed that you still had a beating heart inside your chest and that attending the yearly opening party was something you wanted to do. And you just didn’t have it in you to tell her that you’d much rather lock yourself in the office with your laptop and a series to binge-watch. 

But you didn’t want her to know. You didn’t want her to see the gaping wounds that you were so desperately trying to conceal because you knew they would hurt her, too. You wanted nobody to see the true magnitude of it. Just thinking about it made you want to hide somewhere. 

Everybody would know why. Everyone would figure out exactly why Chris had stopped loving you and why you were hurting so much. Even if they saw just a little. Just a slither of it. They would know. That it was all because you hadn’t been able to keep your baby safe and alive inside you. That it was because you had failed as a wife and as a mother. 

So you forced a smile on your lips. At least, Jeongin’s pleasant personality didn’t make it hard for you to be around him. “Here I am,” you said, giving him a gentle slap on the back. “Are things going alright here?”

“Concert’s going to start in about half an hour,” Jeongin explained. His tongue and his lips were stained from the blue slushy he must have drunk not long ago. It only added to his boyish aura, although you knew he was also a very serious employee and trusted him with his responsibilities. “But the hot dog stand ran out of propane, so the boss had me get one of the tanks from the emergency stash. Told me you should know.”

You nodded. Yes, you were in charge of that—the emergency supplies. Chris took care of most of the daily supplies such as food and other necessities. 

“Noted.” You stood on the hill at the end of Warbler Rd—from here, you could see most of the site. It was properly packed today, more than you had expected. More than last year for sure. “Thank you, Jeongin.” You would give him a raise this year for sure, and probably promote him to a management position at the end of the summer.

He gave you a nod, still looking at the crowd down below. He held his walkie-talkie in one hand, often lifting it to his ear to listen to whatever transmission was on the main channel, in case he would be needed somewhere. He was on Security tonight, which you had figured would give him a good opportunity to watch the concert. 

You felt warmth in your chest at the thought of pleasing someone. You weren’t doing much of that anymore these days. Chris used to be so happy when you’d pack him a lunch or bring home some trinket from a store, bought because it reminded you of him somehow. 

“Hey, Ayen,” you started, making sure to use the young man’s nickname. “Give me your radio. And your badge.” 

He turned to you so abruptly you felt the air move in between you two. It was dusk and this particular spot wasn’t too well-lit so you couldn’t see his face, but you could see his big, shocked eyes. “Are you firing me?” 

You let out a chuckle, unable to control it, letting it turn into a full-on laugh. There wasn’t a lot of that either these days, so you chose to let the sweet taste of it linger on your tongue. “Of course not! Are you insane? You know we need you here!” You gave him a friendly nudge, taking the walkie-talkie from him. “You go to the concert, I’ll cover for you tonight. If you go now you’ll have a good view… and I’m pretty sure I saw Lucy in the crowd somewhere…” 

Jeongin choked on nothing and went with the smooth recovery of a fake cough. You let it slide but you weren’t born yesterday—there was an ice cream parlor on the camping site and its owner had a daughter who was just the same age as Jeongin. And there was an undeniable chemistry between them. 

And she came to help her dad for the pre-season prep last week, with a few of her friends from college, and you heard her tell them about her crush on Jeongin. 

You carefully removed Jeongin’s name tag from his t-shirt. “Now go. And don’t worry, I’ll still pay you the full day. Just don’t drink too much, ok?”

“Thank you boss!” Jeongin gave you a big hug before leaving, basically prancing away towards the stage where the concert would take place.

The warmth in your chest lingered until you lost sight of him, and then you were alone again. It was dark by then already, dusk turning into night. You hung the walkie-talkie at your belt and began your round, deciding to start by the corner where the restaurant and ice cream shop were. Sometimes, some reluctant teenagers, dragged here by force by their parents, could cause some mild issues if there wasn’t anybody around.

It was a rather short walk there, but you were stopped a few times on your way by people who had questions or needed directions. It was night when you reached the courtyard and you found yourself slowing down as you approached. You could hear voices, almost whispers, coming from there. You put your hand on your walkie-talkie, ready to ask for help if you needed. Until you heard a laugh. A laugh that sounded like a bright sunrise. 

Chris was here.

You let go of your radio, scanning the area to find him. Almost all of the tables were empty except for three, occupied mostly by older people who wanted nothing to do with a cover band and just wanted to enjoy some ice cream before they went to sleep. 

Then you saw him. Chris. He was flattening empty cardboard boxes on the other side of the courtyard, but he wasn’t alone. 

Now here’s the thing. 

You knew he didn’t love you anymore. Most days, you hoped he would do something to free the both of you from this prison. You hoped he would sit you down and ask for a divorce or something, only, he didn’t, and you knew why. You understood—he did not like giving up. He was allergic to failure. And sometimes it cost him a lot, but he couldn’t help it. You had always loved that about him. His determination, his strength. 

Here’s the other thing.

The camping site was quite large and it demanded a lot of maintenance. So, two years ago, you hired a landscaping company to do it for you during the busy months. This way, everything was neat all the time and even a lot prettier than it used to be since neither you nor Chris had time to do much gardening around here. The landscaping company was small and familial. A man with his son and daughter. The man was close to retirement age but stubborn as hell. The son was a few years older than you and the daughter a few years younger. Both of them were lovely people, much like their father. 

The woman’s name was Summer, and she looked just like it. Silky hair, gorgeous face. She radiated warmth. A bright smile, an honest smile. A voice like music. A good heart, too, hidden inside her beautiful body. 

She was here with Chris tonight, and this wasn’t a rare occurrence. Since she was on site almost every day, they saw each other often during high season, and they got along exceptionally well. A little too well even.

The worst part was that you couldn’t dislike her because she was a great person. Intelligent, funny. Kind. Generous. 

No, scratch that.

The worst part was that she obviously wanted to fuck Chris and Chris obviously wanted to fuck her. Only you knew he didn’t and you almost hated him for it. You loved him even more for it. They spent a lot of time together, just like tonight. But he didn’t fuck her because he was too good of a person for that, too loyal. But he was being loyal to something that was killing him from the inside. 

They were flattening empty boxes and making piles of them. He laughed again at something that Summer said and your heart dropped in your chest. There wasn’t a lot of that these days. Laughter. But Chris laughed when he was with Summer. 

You quickly turned away before either of them could see you, fleeing the scene as though it was you who had been caught red-handed. 

You couldn’t hold it against him. You wouldn’t even hold it against Chris if he did have sex with her. But of course, none of that meant it didn’t hurt you. There were days you wanted to tell him everything. I love you, Chris. I think you should sleep with Summer. That would hurt him. And then the both of you would hurt and it wouldn’t benefit anybody. 

There were fewer people on the trails as the concert was beginning—you could hear the evening’s host make his speech before the band would come on stage and play. Tears burned your eyes and you tried very hard to hold them back, knowing it was dark but that you could be seen by a staff member at any moment regardless. Nobody could see you because they would know then. They’d run into you here, see the tears on your face, and then keep walking and run into Chris, who was being Chris and not a ghost version of himself, with Summer. And they would know.

You took a deep breath, then another, still walking your usual round through the camping site. 

Maybe it had to be you. Maybe you would need to hurt Chris even more and tell him that you wanted a divorce. You couldn’t tell him you were setting him free—he would just resent you even more for that. He would say, don’t put this on me, and he would be right to say so. After the storm would pass, though, he’d ask what the both of you were supposed to do now. He’d leave the house to you, surely. But this—the camping, the store. You knew he couldn’t leave it. 

But you wondered if you, however, could. 

Maybe you could sell your ownership parts to somebody. Summer’s dad, for example. He liked the place and knew it well. He would give your job to his daughter and then Chris would get to see her even more often and everyone would be happy. 

But this—the camping, the river, the forest. It was all that you had always known. You remembered college well and how it never felt right to be somewhere that wasn’t here. You never felt quite at home and you had made the mistake of making Chris your home instead. 

It was all that you deserved anyway. To feel astray and exiled wherever you went. You had failed as a mother and then as a wife and this was all life’s poetic way of punishing you. You had lost so much. You had lost everything. You had lost too many parts of yourself to remember who you were supposed to be.

“Come ON! It already started!”

A pleading voice broke the quietness of the immediate area around you. While you could definitely hear the first notes of the concert—the band always started with a cover of Barbie Girl, rock version—it seemed that nobody was in this part of the site. Well, except for the two people you could hear arguing. 

You were in the RV area, which was either populated with elderly couples or rich ones who wanted to get a taste of camping without having to sleep on a cot or on the ground. The trail here was well-lit and, in the light silence, you could hear the river just behind. You passed a few RVs and then noticed a black Jeep Patriot. 

“You dragged me all the way to this… place, that’s already a lot, Lee. I’m not going to a concert tonight. I can hear the music from here!” 

Your heart missed a few beats when you recognized Hyunjin’s voice. You slowed down, knowing you probably shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it.

Both he and Minho were standing outside by their RV. There was a small fire lighting up their area. They seemed to have unpacked a lot of things but a few containers were still stacked up by the door. While Hyunjin still had his stylish outfit from earlier, Minho had changed into jeans and a t-shirt, looking relaxed. 

“That’s the problem with you,” Minho told Hyunjin, shaking his head. “You’re afraid of fun. Your brain immediately jumps to the option that would provide you with the least dopamine, which then makes you crave dopamine and search for it in stupid places.” 

“Stop psychoanalyzing me,” Hyunjin retorted. “I pay someone to do that. A professional.” He paused then, looking at Minho as he was searching into one of the containers only to pull a light sweater from it. “I take my meds. I just don’t want to go. I want to draw.” 

Minho sighed. “You draw all the time.”

Hyunjin mumbled something you couldn’t make out. By then, no matter how much you had slowed down your pace so as not to be seen or heard, you had made it to their lot. It just so happened that it was also where the road ended, with a fence blocking cars from going any further but allowing visitors to sit by the river. You glanced at the riverfront, making sure no one was there since nobody was supposed to be too close to the water after dark. When you were certain it was safe, you turned back and started walking from where you came… 

…and ran into Minho as he was walking away from the RV. So much for not being seen.

“Hey, uh, check-in lady!” He offered you a smile. “Didn’t think I’d see you around here.” 

You waved the flashlight you were holding as though it was police evidence, feeling warmth creeping up at the back of your neck. For some reason, being in his—and Hyunjin’s—presence unsettled you. And it made it so much worse not to know exactly why. “I’m making rounds.”

“You also do security? Talk about a resourceful woman. Love to see it.” Minho glanced behind him and you followed his gaze. Hyunjin had taken a seat on a camping chair by the fire with a sketchbook in hand but was staring in your direction. The flush at your neck spread all over your face and you thanked all the gods you knew that it wasn’t daytime. “Are you a manager or something?” 

Your gaze lingered for a few too many seconds on the man behind Minho, even after he had turned to you again. Hyunjin was now pretending not to be listening to your conversation, his head in his sketchbook, using the fire as sole lighting. The flames reflected on his skin the same way sun rays refracted in water, swaying lazily. 

“Uh… actually…” you started, your mind occupied mostly by Hyunjin’s peculiar posture and the way he was holding his pencil like it was too small for his large hand. “I—I’m the owner. Of the camping.” You did look at Minho then, only to see his eyes widening in surprise.

“Really? Damn!” He reached out, offering you his hand to shake. You reciprocated mostly out of habit, although you found his reaction a bit excessive, yet adorable. “I have to compliment you then. This place is awesome. Somehow you’ve managed to make a family-friendly camping site without being boring for childless people. Everything’s clean, well-thought and organized. And that lobster mac and cheese at the restaurant… absolutely divine. Hyunjin ate two bowls.” 

You forced yourself not to look behind him. “I appreciate it and I’ll make sure to send your compliments to the chef,” you spoke playfully. The ‘chef’ was Marlene, a woman in her 70s who refused to retire but complained about work just about every day. She did make the best damn mac and cheese in the state, though. “I should admit it’s not like I established the camping or anything, I…” 

You hesitated for a few seconds, realizing you didn’t want to say the words my husband, which were necessary for you to tell the full story of Riverside Campground. 

No, that wasn’t just it.

You didn’t want Minho—or the guy who was very obviously eavesdropping behind him—to know you were married.

And now it was taking you way too many seconds to come up with a rephrasing of that initial sentence. You were wasting Minho’s time.

“My parents owned the general store uphill,” you started. “Their close friends owned the campground. Their son and I run things now.”

Their son.

“That’s awesome! I also run the company my father started.” If Minho had noticed your unease he didn’t let it show. “I always love to hear how people manage their employees or their investments…” He shook his head as though he was deciding something. “Look, come by anytime if you wanna chat, ok? I’ve always said people can learn from one another—should learn from one another.” 

“Yeah, sure, thanks.” You smiled, taking a few steps back. “Hope you enjoy the show—they’re a fun band. Call the number on the map if you need anything.” 

“Thanks! Have a nice night!” Minho waved at you and, instead of following you, turned to Hyunjin. They spoke in quiet voices that you heard less and less as you walked away. 

It felt good to disappear into darkness again. To be invisible once more. You kept your flashlight off so as not to be seen. There was something stuck in your throat—tears, sure, but tangled with excruciating shame. 

You should have said My husband’s parents owned the campground and now we run things after their retirement. Or something like that. But you didn’t.

You made your way back to the empty lot where the concert was taking place. It was packed and it looked like people were having a good time already, singing along and waving their lit-up phones in the air. You found yourself missing the period of your life when such a sight made you happy. Because you were already happy, or as happy as you could be anyway. You missed the woman you were then—warm and kind and funny. 

You did a few more rounds than necessary but at least it kept you away from the concert. Still, you hummed along to the songs you knew, quietly, walking alone in the dark. Just like any time you were on your own, your mind wandered, forcing you to imagine ten or a hundred divorce scenarios. There was once a time—maybe up until a few months ago—where it was still bearable, where you believed that things could be mended even though they could never be like before. 

Everything was different now, and tonight was just one more proof of it. 

You circled around a few times but when the end of the concert came near, you returned toward the stage area to help the crowd make it back to their camping site. The field was almost empty when you saw Chris. He had put on a black hoodie over his t-shirt and he was talking with Summer. Again. Both of them stood by the path, nodding and saluting the guests as they walked away but never cutting their conversation short. 

You looked away, turning your gaze at the sky instead. There were still too many lights on to allow you to see all of the stars.

Was that really it?

Was he no longer your best friend? Was he just somebody’s son? You wondered what you were to him exactly, other than the place where his daughter had died. Did he harbor, still, a few warm sentiments for you? Or had his love—all of it—turned into resentment? You wondered if he had noticed your presence at all, or if, maybe, he was pretending he hadn’t.

You checked your phone only to realize you wanted to stay outside for much longer than the hour you had left. You didn’t want to go home, even if Chris rarely went there for very long anymore. Something about today was different—you felt it in your bones, as though there had been a shift. But it did not show itself, staying hidden in the shadows somewhere, waiting. Or maybe you weren’t ready to know yet.

You texted Jake, who was supposed to come in in an hour to cover the night security shift. He had been working here for many, many years—before you became owners, he used to wash dishes at the restaurant—and he was among your most trusted employees. You thought about your text for a few seconds before typing it. Hey Jake! Look, I accidentally scheduled both Maggie and you for tonight. Since she’s already here, I thought I could give her tonight’s shift and you could come in tomorrow instead? But it felt wrong to lie to him. You were lying. To everyone. Every minute of every day. Every ghost of a smile was a pretense. Every I’m great! What about you, how are things? was yet another fabrication. And you were tired of pretending.

You: Hey Jake. Do you want tonight off? I’ll pay you half your night

The response took no time.

Jake: Sure! Jake: everything ok? is there a problem?

You: No problem. I just feel like being outside so I’ll cover for you. I’ll see you tomorrow?

This time, he took a little longer to reply but you could only figure that the exchange must be strange from his perspective.

Jake: call me if you need me to come in anyway. see you tomorrow, boss.

He had started calling you boss when Jeongin began doing so. The two liked teasing you with it. They were good guys, and the use of the nickname warmed up your heart a little. 

You were about to circle back to do another round when you ran into—once again—Minho. To your utmost surprise, he wasn’t alone. You had noticed over the evening that Hyunjin was no longer sitting outside the RV but you had obviously assumed that he was inside and had gone to bed. You were a little shocked to see him walk with Minho, the two of them talking with their heads close to one another, as though they didn’t want to be heard. Then Hyunjin lifted his gaze, establishing direct eye contact with you.

You froze. And he froze, too, prompting you to quickly look away. He must have thought you were staring or even stalking him. Your heart raced in your chest again, the same way it had earlier while he checked in and then again near their RV. God, what would he think of you? Surely he would think this had something to do with Naro’s paintings. Or maybe he would just think you were weird.

Minho, however, didn’t seem to think anything nefarious—his face was illuminated by a smile when he followed Hyunjin’s eyes. “Hey! You again!” He waved at you, elbowing Hyunjin. “Be nice,” he told him. 

You pressed your lips together, your mind going a thousand miles an hour trying to calm yourself down. There was nothing to be so worked up about. He was just some guy. Hyunjin. He was literally just a guy. 

Minho walked toward you. “You were right. The show was awesome,” he said. He was, for sure, very generous with his compliments. “Even Hyunjin ended up coming by.” 

Hyunjin nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was great.” He smiled. He made himself smile, more like.

“Look, I bought a bunch of bacon and eggs and other stuff,” Minho started. “I bought too much. Do you wanna come by for breakfast tomorrow morning? I’d love to talk with you about how you run this business. And Hyunjin is shy, but I’m sure he’d like to talk to you about art.”

Flames spread on your cheeks. You exhaled, finding yourself unable to inhale. Your skin burned in places—your face, your ears, the back of your neck, even your chest. It felt like you had been under the sun for too long. 

Minho was about to say something else but he closed his mouth and took one step back, looking behind you. You twisted your neck to see what had silenced him and found yourself muted too. Your insides—hot like lava just a second ago—turned to ice. 

Would it be exaggerated to say it felt as though he had caught you cheating? Perhaps. And yet you felt exactly like that—like he had seen you do something you weren’t supposed to do. You wouldn’t feel any differently if you were six years old and a store owner had caught you stealing a candy bar while your mom was looking away. 

“Hey,” Chris told you with a smile but you knew something about this smile wasn’t quite right. “What are you doing here?” He was there, just standing there, and Summer was a few feet behind him, only, she was now the one wearing the black hoodie that Chris had on just earlier. You tried to feel some kind of way about that piece of information but your brain made you unable to process it at all, moving on to something else.

We’re just talking, I don’t know them, you almost said, your heart racing. But then he gave the walkie-talkie you were holding a nod of the head and you understood what he was saying.

“I—Uh—figured I’d let Jeongin enjoy his evening since his friends were here,” you explained with a shaky voice. “I’ll cover tonight’s shift too. I made a mistake in the schedule and I didn’t want to call anyone at the last minute for it, since I’m already up.” 

 Chris’ facial expression changed ever so slightly—his eyes took a faint squint and you could imagine he was scanning his memory to remember tonight’s schedule. It was hosted on a shared account—apparently, you had forgotten that little detail. You quickly pulled out your phone and subtly erased Jake’s name, which was very much there under tonight’s date, and showed your screen to Chris.

“I thought Jake was coming in,” Chris replied with a shrug. Then he turned to the two other men. “Good evening,” he said in his customer service voice. “Is there anything we can help you with?” 

You averted your eyes, unable to look at anyone currently involved in the conversation. 

“No sir, thank you very much,” Minho replied with a tone that was a little too merry. Perhaps he hadn’t appreciated being interrupted in the middle of a conversation, which you could understand. “We were simply giving our compliments to the lady.” 

“Compliments?” He looked at you then at him. You, on the other hand, observed Summer, all wrapped up in your husband’s hoodie. The one you had given him for his birthday a few years ago. 

“He is the co-owner,” you said, not even looking at either of the guys, only staring Summer down. You didn’t want to hate her. Hell, you didn’t hate her at all. But she could try to be a little less obvious, especially in public. 

“The co-owner?” Minho seemed surprised but still offered his hand to shake nonetheless. Meanwhile, Hyunjin was just glancing around with his hands in his pockets, his hair hiding most of his face. “Christopher…” 

All employees—Chris and you included—had badges with their names on them. Mostly it was a way to let all the guests know who they could ask for help or directions, and the names were a little friendlier than the simple mention of ‘staff’ on a t-shirt. 

You saw Minho make sense of things. First, he saw Chris’ last name. Then he looked at yours—again. 

You could see the cogs turning in his head. “So you two are related?” 

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

You knew it had to be you. It always had to be you, somehow—but it was the burden bestowed upon you for what you had done. For what you had failed to do. It was life’s poetic way of punishing you for being inadequate. 

Four seconds. And four seconds of silence, when right in the middle of a conversation, might just as well be four hours.

To your—and everyone’s—surprise, it was Hyunjin who spoke first, relieving you of this cumbersome task that had been following you for years. 

“They’re married, Min,” he said from behind his hair, his voice strangely quiet and low. 

Minho’s mouth fell open but he tried to conceal whatever emotion that was by nodding fervently. “Ah! Of course, of course. Well, nice meeting you, Mr. Bahng. This is a fine business you have here, as I told your wife earlier.” They shook hands. “Lee Minho, Hwang Hyunjin. We’re over at the RV site. We should probably get going.”

“Thank you for choosing Riverside Campground!” Chris waved at them when they turned to leave. “Hope you enjoy your stay!”

Minho smiled flatly at you, waving with very little enthusiasm. Hyunjin didn’t wave but he lingered around a few seconds more than his friend. Or boyfriend. You still had no fucking clue who they were to one another. 

“Bye,” he told you. 

Not to Chris and certainly not to Summer. He spoke to you, just you. 

There was a rumbling somewhere deep within your chest. Like something there wanted to come back to life.

Hyunjin’s story goes like this—

His life was never normal, partially because of his family name and a lot because of the pressure his father felt about his own family name, all of which he projected onto his son. He tried many things. He tried to get away from painting but that didn’t work. He tried to become a scholar but that, also, didn’t work. He broke exactly one heart and had his broken a few times, but never in an irreversible way, even when it felt like it. Until he met Dara.

His life was never normal until he met Dara. He liked her as soon as they met and the spark was indubitable. Others noticed it too—Seungmin, then Minho when he came to visit Hyunjin in his studio to see where his commissioned painting was at. Hyunjin’s mother even noticed something. You seem happy these days my son, she told him. And he was happy, for the first time in a long time, or maybe ever. Like he hadn’t been happy before and was only discovering the taste of it. 

It’s a tale as old as time. A lonely guy meets a lonely girl and it creates sparks. One loves the other very much. The other is also in love, but their heart lives in a cage. 

It was one of the first things he learned about Dara. The morning of the second day they knew each other, he knocked at her studio door with coffee. She was unpacking supplies and other things. Among them was a stunning painting of a flower but broken into hundreds of uneven pieces, as though it was made of glass. Dara told Hyunjin she painted it the day her ex broke up with her. There was another painting stored with it, this time depicting a woman with abstract lines, some of them even violent with how powerful of a stroke they had required. Red paint was splattered across the entire canvas, which was large. The woman was holding something small in her hand, something that the viewer couldn’t see—he could only feel its significance. 

Dara didn’t tell Hyunjin this from the get-go—she used other words on that second day. A little later, though, when they were having drinks on the tiny balcony of his studio, she said this: “I can’t love again you know? It’ll kill me. I don’t trust people anyway.”

It was a cool night, but not too cool either, or maybe it was thanks to the wine they kept drinking. Hyunjin looked into his glass—in the dark, it seemed like it held black ink, or poison, instead of wine. 

“Isn’t that what everyone does these days?” He shrugged. “Situationships, I mean.” 

Dara burst into a laughter so pure it sounded a little like crystal bells, or even like beautiful notes on an ancient violin. Hyunjin sat quietly, letting Dara’s profound beauty permeate him. She had stunning eyes—expressive, deep, honey-brown eyes, and he loved staring into them. 

“Do I look like I can do situationships?” And he knew what she meant—when Dara did something, she did it with her whole entire heart and soul, whether it was a painting, a conversation, or eating a meal. He could only imagine how passionate of a lover she might be.

They both laughed at that. “I guess not. I don’t even know how that works, to be honest. I understand one-night stands more than situationships.” After all, he had a few of those. One-night stands. To fill some void that was still very much unfilled. “Do people go to others and be like, hey, wanna fuck but like, just fuck? Repeatedly?”

“RIGHT?” Dara slammed the table, almost causing the wine to fall off it. “My other question is, how do you even have this sort of relationship with someone you’re not in love with?” 

“I don’t get it either,” Hyunjin admitted before drinking some wine. He hesitated a little before saying the words that were on his mind. “Does that mean you’ll never have sex again?” 

Dara’s laughter died in the night. She didn’t seem upset at the question—she took her time to think about it, drinking and lighting a cigarette. “Guess so, uh?” Then, maybe in an attempt to soothe the slight unease that was creeping up on the balcony, she gestured around at nothing. “It’s not like there’s a queue for my bed anyway.” 

The truth is Hyunjin’s cock twitched in his pants at that. He blamed it a little on being touch-deprived. The truth is, Hyunjin, at that point, didn’t know that he was already in love with Dara. They spent entire days together, just the two of them, in either of their studios, painting and talking and painting. Talking about painting. Talking about love. About their past. And everything about it was easy and he never stopped to overthink it. Because it felt right.

It felt normal. For the first time ever, somebody was seeing him, perceiving him, and not walking away, not demanding more or less of him. For the first time, someone liked Hyunjin just the way he was. 

To this day Hyunjin couldn’t tell what overtook him—what kind of boldness possessed him at that moment, because he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to say these things. But he said, “But of course people want to fuck you. Why wouldn’t they?” God, that was an awfully direct thing to say to somebody he saw every day. But what it really meant was, Of course I’d fuck you. In a heartbeat. Right here right now. 

But he still didn’t know that he was in love with her.

Dara didn’t push it. They went home separately, but that night was the first night Hyunjin thought of her when he jerked off in the shower. He thought of Dara, her mouth, the way she applied paint, her laugh, her broken heart as he fucked into his hand, his forehead pressed on the cool ceramic tile. And he was ashamed. But he still didn’t know that he was in love with her.

Hyunjin’s story goes like this—his bond with Dara grew stronger as weeks passed. He trusted her and she trusted him, both of them surprised at how easy it was to open up to the other. 

Hyunjin’s story goes like this—they got drunk one night in his studio, and Dara kissed him. And it was exactly at that moment that he finally realized he loved her, that he had loved her this whole time. He kissed her back and they talked a lot. They kissed more. They made love three times throughout the night, first on the floor, then on a table, and then on the couch he had in his studio for when he needed to take a nap. For him, it felt as though his fate was sealed. Because nothing had ever felt like this before, and he knew that nothing ever would again. 

Because at some point into the night, Dara pinned him down to the floor, riding him like a goddess would ride an ocean or something like it, and she leaned down to kiss him and to whisper three little words on his lips, and he believed her.

Hyunjin’s story goes like this—Dara meant it when she told Hyunjin that she loved him. But she also meant it when, a few weeks earlier, she told him that she couldn’t love again. It might have been more accurate to say that she wouldn’t love again, but to her, there was no difference between the two. The paradox spawned something dark within her, although she tried to hide it. Maybe she knew she would hurt Hyunjin. Maybe she knew she had already hurt him. 

But Hyunjin wasn’t an idiot. He was in love but he wasn’t stupid. Dara had made it very clear before, and lovemaking, as visceral and passionate as it might have been, wouldn’t change that. He knew it. Yet, somewhere deep within his heart, he held the hope that maybe Dara’s love would be as big as his, and a love like this could move mountains. It could certainly move aside the fears haunting her since it did exactly that for him. So he waited, patiently. And all that Dara did was drift away from him. 

He stopped painting. Meanwhile, Dara couldn’t stop painting. He went to the studio every day, and everything was the same except that he was in love with her and Dara was in love with him but she didn’t want to, or couldn’t, be with him. He tried his best to hide it. He tried because he knew it would hurt her if she ever came to realize the emptiness she had left within him. 

So things went downhill. And they could have gone very low if it weren’t for Minho who, one random day, showed up at Hyunjin’s place to inquire about the painting he had commissioned him a while ago. Not with the intention to rush him, just to ask about it. But he found Hyunjin in a profound state of decay. After all, he hadn’t seen him for months. But Minho understood—he, too, had lost his first love. 

Hyunjin’s story goes like this—he learned that resentment could only exist in a place where there was once love when he felt it in Dara. Regret. Resentment. As though he was a reminder of the love she could feel but not give. One time, Dara confronted him about it and he had to pretend he was okay about the whole ordeal and he hated doing that. What an awful feeling. To keep a love silent. Secret. But he did it for her sake. He said it was okay. And that was a lie.

It took a long time. He and Dara had a lot of conversations about it. They had a lot of conversations about many other things, too. Their friendship remained the same. If anything, it grew stronger than ever. He started painting again and things were good. He was exclusively painting commissions now and he was quite successful. He took his time with them, truly giving each painting the love they deserved. After all, it was the only thing he could love openly, so he did that. He put all the love he had for Dara in each stroke of a brush, in every little bit of impasto he could, in every vibrant red he used. And his art had never been as beautiful, so he knew that his love was true. 

Hope takes such a long time to die. But it dies. 

Hyunjin’s story goes like this.

He fell in love and then he fell in despair. And when he reached the bottom of it all, he had to climb back up. And he did. Only, nothing was ever the same after.

The night was quiet and your mind was anything but. 

No matter how hard you tried to chase them away, the thoughts always returned. Mostly Chris. Your determination to avoid him. Your determination to keep an eye on him to see if he cheated on you yet. The pain of knowing he wouldn’t cheat on you, even if it killed him not to. Naro’s Loss. Your loss. Minho’s insightful eyes. 

Hyunjin. Just Hyunjin. 

Most people were still up and about on your first patrol of the night, perhaps needing to unpack a few more things after the concert. It was calm at the RV site—Minho and Hyunjin’s lights were off entirely. You lingered a little longer than you needed there but it was to listen to the river. It was the best spot to observe it too, which you often did in the daylight. 

The general store was open a few nights of the week, including tonight. Sometimes it was the same employee who handled the shop and security duty and sometimes it wasn’t. You should have been at the shop tonight while Jake handled security but now it was just you. And it felt better and worse at once.

After the patrol, you took refuge in the shop’s back room, sorting items and taking inventory. You only had two clients show up, one for a pillow and the other for some late-night snacks. 

It was better here than out there. Because here, you were forced to think about work. You weren’t just walking, and some less pleasant thoughts couldn’t haunt you as easily. You played music on the speaker Chris had bought for the store last year. You unboxed the cutlery you hadn’t been able to shelve earlier. You unboxed the remainder of the kids’ section you hadn’t had time to do before. Small water pistols, coloring books, frisbees, sweet-smelling SPF, sidewalk chalk sets, children’s shampoos and body cleansers. Balls, ring toss games, a few storybooks. 

Watercolor paint sets. The small ones, with cheap plastic brushes. 

It was always you who did it. Unboxing the items for the kids’ section. Because Chris couldn’t, or wouldn’t. Not that there was much of a difference in his case. He had done it the very next summer after Judith and then never after. Not a single word had been said about it—he would sometimes set up the shop in just a day, getting everything ready pretty much all on his own. Except for the children's stuff. It would remain in its boxes in a corner of the storage room until someone took care of it. You. Or someone else. His mom used to do it. But it had to be you because you were the one who deserved that punishment. 

The watercolors were the last item you stacked on a shelf. You kept them for last on purpose, Hyunjin’s image permeated the fog in your mind, no matter how thick and how dark it was. More smoke than fog. Like something had been on fire for a long time and yet there was nothing left to burn. But it somehow still burned.

You returned to the counter, reaching for the iced coffee left next to your phone. However, your hand hovered the device instead, and you grabbed it almost like you didn’t mean to. It didn’t stop you from immediately opening a search engine and typing Hwang Hyunjin inside it. 

The results were mostly unsurprising. First was his Insta account on which no pictures of himself appeared. Instead, it was all art. His, or museum visits, or stunning pictures of whichever scenery moved him on a given day. It seemed to you like he was into photography at least a little because you could tell he used fancy cameras and different lenses depending on the location. You scrolled mindlessly, trying to see as much as you could as quickly as possible, almost as though there was a time limit. Almost as though someone would catch you. As if it was bad to look at someone’s profile on social media. 

Yet, the more time passed, the slower you went. Always careful not to accidentally like any picture so you remained unseen, your eyes refused to follow, lingering on the art that Hyunjin created. You found yourself studying many of his paintings for several minutes.

He was incredible.

Describing his style would be difficult because it seemed like Hyunjin couldn’t help but try new things. New techniques and methods, all the types of paint known to mankind or something like it, varied compositions. All sorts of genres, too. Still life, portraits, landscapes, seascapes, figurative styles or charcoal sketches. 

First you noticed his contemporary impressionist paintings. Or rather, the way he used color in it like the subject of the painting was telling a lie and the color palette was telling the true story. Two lovers in a bed, entangled, only most of the canvas was saturated in blacks. Different blacks, expertly blended. A stormy sea with treacherous currents. Again, most of the canvas was dark. A boy sitting at a table, drawing, and his eyes were oozing black. 

His expressionist pieces were just as poignant. Two lovers again—their outline chaotic yet undeniably recognizable. The two of them were kissing, and it looked like a passionate kiss, too. One of them was saturated red, the color spilling all over, staining the other with it. A beautiful, deep Alizarin Crimson, to be more exact, which was a shade of red that you particularly appreciated. Hyunjin used it often, or so it would seem.

Not two pieces were the same and yet they all obviously belonged to Hyunjin’s artistic genius. It was a little as if he used his soul in place of paint, and you could feel it through the screen of your phone. 

You sat with it all for a while, lazily continuing your search. While his Insta seemed official and like he was selling paintings through it, he also had a website that served as a portfolio. Nowhere did it mention his blood relation to a renowned painter. 

The pieces in his portfolio were even more refined, but one in particular caught your eye.

It was titled Resentment. Mixed media on canvas.

Two lovers. Again. Two silhouettes sitting, intertwined together and making love, surrounded by a variety of objects, made prisoners by them. The objects were like tangled strings, wrapped around them, their chests, their wrists, their throats. You wouldn’t say the lovers appeared unbothered by this strange prison but while it hindered their movements, they also seemed resolute to focus on one another, pretending they weren’t being choked to death by a string of broken Christmas lights. The glass shards punctured their skin much like the roses that were braided into them, whose thorns made them bleed. Headphone cords, coarse sisal rope scratching them all over. A silk ribbon around an ankle, tied too tightly, so tight it cut the skin there, too. Chains, heavy or fine, leaving their marks on arms or stomachs or thighs.

You let go of your phone, speechless, realizing your vision was blurred by tears. This was clearly inspired by a very real and personal part of Hyunjin’s life and yet it was something else you saw in the painting. You could feel the desperation, the weariness, the torment. The love. Painful, raw, real as hell.

It was Chris and you that you pictured, tangled in strings of resentment strong enough that they were, slowly but surely, suffocating both of you.

You covered your mouth, looking away, your mind running marathons as it emptied itself, leaving only vivid memories playing at a loud volume. The first time Christopher kissed you. That time when you were eight years old and you fell and scratched your knee and the blood scared him so much he cried. Being locked in his bedroom as teenagers, listening to music, laying in his bed, in love and unable to admit it even to yourself. Being in love with Chris. Chris being in love with you. The time he took you on a trip to Paris. When he fucked you here on this very counter after slow dancing with you in the shop. Waking up in the same bed as him. 

Waking up in the same bed as him and being whole, still.

Sometimes, you read a book, watched a movie, or saw a painting that reminded you what it was like to be in love. Actively. Not just in the passive way, but in the painful way. Not the kind of love that was a memory. A ghost. A love that used to be something and turned into less.

Here is what happens to a heart that loves something that doesn’t love it the same way. Something that loves back but from a distance. An intentional distance, put there to protect one or both parties. A love that is incompatible. 

It hurts. At first, it hurts. The worst kind of pain. Excruciating. It feels like you’re dying except you’re not, you’re painfully alive until you wish you weren’t anymore, until the ache morphs into something else. Something even darker. The absence of light. The absence of warmth. You’ve already lost big parts of yourself at that point and you’re starting to understand they’ll never come back. 

The human body and the human mind have a limit to how much damage they can endure. To how much agony they can withstand. Unfortunately, that limit is very high. It destroys you, slowly, molecule by molecule. It drains the colors out of life first, and then out of you. This is when you start feeling like nothing is quite worth it anymore because you’ve lost the ability to appreciate things. It’s not worth it. It doesn’t feel worth it anyway. Then one day you see a beautiful sky over a mountain and it doesn’t even move you. It’s not beautiful. It is just a sky over a mountain.

You miss it. You miss them. You miss the less damaged version of you. You’re ashamed because you allowed somebody to fill in the voids of your soul. And now that they’re gone, as though the ocean recedes at low tide, your edges, sharp and rugged, are exposed. Bare. Raw and sensitive like open wounds.

Loss. Only something that occupies a vast amount of space within you can cause it. At one point, you realize the emptiness has nothing to do with the tides—you become aware of the tsunami that is about to drown you. What was taken from you is returned tenfold, only not in the form of love. It’ll seep through your skin and infiltrate your lungs. Grief. Sorrow. Melancholy. Resentment. Aloneness. 

Forced upon you. Waterboarded upon you.

This is when you pull away. From people. From things. From life. Not even intentionally, but it happens nonetheless. As a defense mechanism perhaps. You become the one who puts a distance between the world and you, but it doesn’t even matter, for you are barely corporeal anyway, and nothing or nobody can touch you.

The alarm on your phone went off, pulling you back to reality, only you weren’t here yet, not entirely. It was time for your second patrol of the night. And you were crying. And you were making peace with the second most violent thing that had ever happened to you, which was the fact that Christopher was being choked to death by resentment and it was your fault. And maybe you, too, were struggling for air, and you couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save either of you. It felt like all you could do was watch life fading away from him, the same as it was from you. 

Of course, someone with an outsider’s perspective might tell you that if Chris seemed resolute not to ask for a divorce because it would be a failure and he didn’t like failures, why didn’t you do it? After all, you were the one to say it always had to be you—what was so different about this? And they would be right. But they would be wrong, too. The failure would remain no matter who initiated it. So maybe it was inevitable, but on top of being the place where his baby had died, you would also be what had officially brought forth the biggest failure of his life. Because that’s what he would say. You knew him. 

And you were not quite ready to be hated by him. It was one thing not to be loved by Chris. But hatred? Loathing, even, maybe? No. You weren’t strong enough to do it, not now at least.

You walked the same path as you had previously, your eyes blank, advancing almost like a zombie, your head filled with awful things. With beautiful things turned awful, too. And those were even worse. 

The campground was quiet except for the chirping of crickets and the song of tree frogs echoing in the woods, the sound of them bouncing on the trunks of trees. Your mind was lingering in the kids’ section of the shop but the sounds of the night anchored you and you let them. The soft soil underneath your walking boots. The river flowing steadily. The stars in the sky. Your mind was lingering on a painting as beautiful as it was sad, and somehow, you were seeing the world with different eyes and hearing it with different ears. Like something had shifted inside you, but it was too early to figure out what exactly. Maybe it was just that you relished that feeling of knowing you weren’t as alone as you thought you were. Someone understood you, even if it was, maybe, in a different shade of aloneness. It was aloneness anyway. Unfortunately for him, Hyunjin seemed to be able to portray the sorrow that afflicted you, which meant he must be intimate with it, too. What a terrible thing to be burdened by.

You wondered if you would ever get the chance to ask him. How would you even go about it? You couldn’t picture yourself straight up telling him you had looked him up. It sounded stalky and weird. He had seemed reluctant to share some parts of his personal life earlier, which was understandable considering you were a total stranger to him. You knew Lee Minho had invited you to breakfast out of politeness but, obviously, you wouldn’t go. Because you were a stranger. They were strangers. So it was likely you wouldn’t talk to Hyunjin, not even once, in all of the summer.

But then you smelled weed.

You stopped in your tracks, inhaling deeply to make sure you were actually smelling it. You couldn’t see anything as you looked around—you had just entered the RV site and everything was still. Not a single light was on in the vehicles and things were just the way they had been earlier. It didn’t take you very long to find the source of the smell. You made it to the river, walking on the edge of it, mindful of each step you took. You knew this place by heart though and would have been able to navigate your way with your eyes closed. 

Someone was sitting on the ground, smoking, resting on a smooth, large rock behind them. 

You sighed, starting to regret offering to do night security. Most of the time there was no issue, but when there was one once in a while, you weren’t exactly the kind of person who liked to exert your authority. You tried telling yourself this was most likely just a stray teenager trying to get the most out of this parent-imposed vacation, looking for some peace away from their family.

You cleared your throat. “Hey, excuse me?” Your voice sounded a lot smaller than you wanted it to. You were the boss. You were the owner of this place. You had a right to set rules. Right? “It’s just that we don’t allow drugs on the property, so…” 

You took a few more steps toward the culprit, only to realize it was a young man with long, dark hair, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. 

“Oh, hello you.” Hyunjin sat upright, turning to you. It was dark but some light from a nearby lamppost filtered through the tree leaves, caressing his honey skin and showing his soft smile. “Sorry about that.” He waved the joint he was holding. 

You froze. “Oh.” You took it all in at once. The soft breeze caressing his silky hair. His deep, intelligent eyes. The sorrow he exuded. His beauty. “H—Hello.” 

The man stood, his lips pressed together in a contrite smile. “I didn’t think I’d get caught,” he admitted with a giggle that echoed in your empty chest. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” You waved at him when he went to put out the joint. “I don’t really mind. It’s just that we had to make rules for when there are kids around.” 

“Makes sense.” Hyunjin shook his head, half-sitting on the boulder, his eyes not leaving you as though he was studying you. “How’s the night shift going? Not too many problems I hope?”

It took you a few seconds to be able to speak again. Something about Hyunjin was unsettling, but not in a bad way. He was so unique. You had never met anyone who had this energy before. He made you want to sit and make him tell you the story of his entire life. Like he was an ancient sacred manuscript written in an intricate language, unknown and familiar at once. 

“No, not too many,” you heard yourself respond, surprised at how comfortable you were around him. “Just one guy I caught with weed…” 

At that, Hyunjin’s giggles turned into full-on laughter, causing a smile to appear on your lips. A genuine one, so tangible it felt warm on your face. The warmth spread slowly, spilling onto your cheeks and at the back of your neck.

“Kids these days!” He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes in a dramatically exaggerated manner, brushing his fingers through his hair to push it away from his face.

The laughter died slowly and silence returned. Only, it wasn’t really silent. The river was flowing and the frogs were still singing and from here, you could even hear an owl, and crickets. As if the world was desperate to remind you that it was still alive, no matter how lifeless your own heart was. 

“Maybe I can buy my way out of this,” Hyunjin added with a mysterious look on his pretty face. 

He reached into the tote bag left near him, pulling out of it a handful of mini liquor bottles, offering you some with an inviting nod. 

You pretended to be shocked. “Are you trying to corrupt me?” You tsked him with a sigh. “Well, I have to say, it’s working.” You grabbed a bottle of whiskey with a playful smile.

Hyunjin smoked quietly, watching you as you screwed open the bottle and drank most of it in one go. It was good whiskey, smooth, but it burned your throat just enough to anchor you to the present moment. He sat down on the grass again, gently patting the space next to him, inviting you. “Care to stay for a minute? Or should you not?” 

You weighed your options—everything seemed orderly enough after all, so maybe hanging out here was just fine. 

After all, before tonight, before seeing the true colors of his soul, you didn’t think anybody could understand the pain you had, your inner conflicts. Which was self-important and perhaps even selfish, but it had been a long fucking time since you had related to anything as much as you related to his paintings. 

You sat down, not saying a word, the vivid images of Hyunjin’s art still floating in your mind almost like flashbacks badly edited into a low-budget movie. You finished the whiskey, eyes on the sky above, watching the stars and the way they sparkled. 

Out of nowhere, Hyunjin handed you the joint. “Are you alright?” He asked it to you quietly but in a very sincere way. 

For a couple of seconds you couldn’t believe that he would just share weed with you like this. Then you realized you had simply forgotten your college days and how blissfully unaware you had been back then. This would be far from the first time you smoked with a stranger. 

His question troubled you. You took the joint from him, inhaling the smoke and pretending to be super cool about how it immediately made you cough. It had been a while.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied. “What about you?”

You turned to him, only to be faced with Hyunjin’s grave expression. A faint squint had appeared between his brows, and he didn’t shy away from staring. His eyes went from yours to the joint you pressed between your lips, back to your eyes. 

He completely ignored your question. “You look like you’ve been crying.” 

One thing you hated about you was how skilled you had become to dodge these. Yet it did not feel the same coming from Hyunjin. A stranger perhaps, but one who had faced sorrow, truly faced it, had been stabbed by it probably repeatedly, and lived to tell the tale. 

Like going on vacation to a foreign country and accidentally coming face to face with someone from home, and knowing they were from home before they even opened their mouths. You knew that Hyunjin came from the same place as you did, which was a place where loss was a tangible thing, worn around the throat, a place where one was a slave to it. 

To someone else, someone who didn’t come from that place, you would have bullshitted something about allergies. Typically, they bought it. 

To Hyunjin, you said, “I have bad days sometimes. Today is a bad day.” 

And it felt good to say it. It felt good to say it to him. It was only a minuscule drop of the gargantuan secret that lived with, the pain that you carried with you and kept trapped within you so that it wouldn’t spill out and stain others. So that it would never hurt Chris. 

Hyunjin nodded and took the joint back from you after you handed it. In exchange, he simply passed you another whiskey and then proceeded to open one for himself. 

Your wedding ring shone under the faint light. You observed it for a few seconds.

“I understand that,” Hyunjin said after a while. “I get those too. A little too often to my taste, but it’s better now that I take meds for it.” He drank some whiskey and turned to you again. “Is there something I can do to cheer you up? Other than getting you wasted, I mean.” He had a guilty smile. 

You chuckled. “Thank you. That’s actually really nice of you. Offering.” Nobody offered that to you since nobody knew you had bad days. No one. Not a single soul. “Getting wasted does help.” 

Few words were exchanged as you finished the joint together. More bottles were opened, too. You wondered where Chris was. He was probably back home. He would have gone back home when you told him you’d spend the night here and that no one else was scheduled. Because it meant you couldn’t leave the premises and there was a zero percent chance you’d go back home, too. You two were rarely there, at the same time, at night. He’d come by during the day to do laundry and even have lunch or dinner with you. But then he bounced. And you’d see his car parked in his parents’ driveway or he’d just be somewhere here. Doing maintenance he called it. But really he just couldn’t stand being too close to you at night. Like you were a sleep paralysis demon. But really you were just the place where his daughter had died. And it was worse.

“I’m sorry you… have bad days,” you tentatively said after a while. You could feel the various substances having their effect on you. You felt heavy and weightless at once. It was as though all your sadness was still very much there, but you weren’t actively drowning in it. 

You didn’t know if it was because you were high or because for the first time in years you had admitted to someone you weren’t alright. 

“For some people, you know, it’s just easy to be happy. I’m not one of those people,” Hyunjin explained with a shrug. “Minho actually made me see his therapist. He thought he could fix me.” He paused for a few seconds. “Not everything that is broken can be fixed. But broken things can still have a place and a purpose in life.” He had another pause, longer this time, and you dared not interrupt him. He faced you—really faced you, turning his body towards you—and spoke again. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you’re like that too, right?” 

He took your breath away, just like that. 

He smelled like weed, like his intricate and fancy cologne. His breath smelled like liquor. And his scent was melting in the air, blending with the sweet and pleasant esters and terpene of the evergreens around you. The moss that grew on them. The water from the river. The faintest trace of salt, brought by a breeze that came from the beach. You smelled him. Really smelled him. You let the olfactory memory of the moment engrave itself in your mind. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him. The delicate traits on his face, how violently pretty he was. His gaze, heavy, meaningful, honest. The softness you felt in him was a strange contrast to the strength he evidently had. His large shoulders, his plush lips. The way his clothes were too big for him and yet hinted at a perfect, sculpted, toned body. The way he held himself, leaning toward you. You looked at him. Really looked at him. You let the sight of it carve itself into your soul.

You did not want to forget that moment. 

You had not been seen, really seen, in a long while. 

Long enough that you had forgotten that feeling. And yet it was undeniably there, in your chest, coming back home after a long vacation away only to find its home empty, desolate, devastated. Decayed. You could picture it kicking at your dead heart, wondering what the fuck had happened in the past years. 

You gulped. “Yes,” you breathed, averting your gaze, ashamed. And ashamed of being ashamed. “Yes, I’m… like that.”

His response took no time. “It’s alright. It doesn’t change your value as a person or anything.”

You looked down at the river. How many times had you considered just throwing yourself in it, letting it take you somewhere else, hoping you would drown before anybody could find you? 

He didn’t know. Hyunjin. He didn’t know what you had done. He didn’t know the ugly things inside you. He didn’t know that fearful thoughts were corporeal and dangerous. He didn’t know that you had been punished for your greed and for your uncertainty and that it, in fact, lowered your value. A lot. 

And what the fuck were you doing here anyway? Chatting with this man you didn’t know and let him read your soul like you were some unsolved riddle in a magazine left on a table in a dental clinic’s waiting room? 

It took half a second—you went to stand back up, the motion of it barely happening—and Hyunjin lowered a hand on your arm to stop you. “Wait.” 

You stared at him, motionless, a little numb. Not numb enough. His skin was smooth and warm. You felt a faint spark of electricity run through you when he squeezed—terribly faintly squeezed—your forearm. 

“I’m sorry,” he went on. “I didn’t mean to say anything offensive or hurtful, I just—” 

You didn’t like to see guilt written on his handsome face, especially not because of you. “You didn’t,” you assured him. The electricity had run its course and it went to die in your chest, where other forces were at war with your inert heart. “Please, it’s fine.” 

Hyunjin retreated his hand, sitting against the boulder again. “But I made you want to leave.” 

“I always want to leave.” It just came out of you, like that, without warning. One of those awful truths about you that you kept buried, hidden away. That you tried to forget. “It’s not people’s fault, it’s mine.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it.” Hyunjin nodded, licking his bottom lip in a slow, lazy swipe of his tongue. “I always want to leave, too. Almost. I don’t feel like that when I paint, or when Minho forces me to go fishing or something.” Hyunjin gulped, clearing his throat faintly. “I don’t think I’m feeling it right now either. Your energy. It’s…” He frowned while he was looking for the right words. “It’s like a color that contains multitudes of other colors. And I love colors.” 

Part of you wanted to remind him of how fucking high he was for saying stuff like that.

But another part of you stopped you, forcing you to think about his words, forcing them down your throat, into your chest. Using them like an antidote on that fucking heart of yours.

“And now I’m making it worse,” Hyunjin added with a self-derogatory sigh. “Sorry. I’m not good at talking to people or making friends.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes as a variety of emotions overcame you, washing over you like the high tide on a beach. “I think the opposite. So far you’ve been nothing but nice to talk to.”

He smiled faintly. “I don’t know why you’re sad, but I just thought of something that might cheer you up a little.” 

Hyunjin reached into his tote bag again, this time pulling his phone out of it. He scrolled for almost a whole minute, visibly looking for something specific, truly absorbed in the task. You couldn’t look away from him. Fucking hell. Fuck. 

He let out a little thrilled exclamation. “There it is!” Then, Hyunjin simply handed you his phone. You, a stranger. 

You took it from him, intrigued. The screen showed two pencil sketches on paper. 

But then you saw it, and you nearly dropped the phone. It was not pencil. It was charcoal. At the bottom of the sheet was a signature below a date in the late 19th century. A signature you had seen countless times before.

“What the fuck?” You glanced at Hyunjin who now had a shit-eating grin on his face but quickly returned your attention to the screen. “Is this real?” 

“Yup. It’s real. My granddad had them, and he gave them to me some time ago.” 

You studied them with a hand over your mouth. The sketches. Drawn by Naro himself, all these years ago. 

The one on the left depicted a scenery. Something beautiful, probably from his time in South Holland if you could trust that you recognized the architecture of the town behind the empty field that was drawn. Tall grass, swayed by the wind, with a forest on one side and Leiden on the other. The sketch was simple but no less beautiful, and Naro’s style was undeniable and undeniably intriguing. The accuracy with which he drew the trees, yet made the city more of a blur, an impression, a suggestion. He always loved nature, or so the books said. Very much.

The sketch on the right left you speechless. Slowly, air stopped coming into your lungs and you found yourself staring at it through tears that you were desperately trying to swallow back. 

It showed his wife, sitting on the edge of a bed on which an almost faceless child lay. The little girl wore a gown with flowers on it. She was holding onto a doll. Her face suggested pain and exhaustion. Her face was barely a face. It was just that. Distress. Her mother was holding her other hand and caressing her hair. 

If Loss the painting had a prequel, that would be it. The sketch was depicting the last moments of Naro’s daughter before she passed away.

You gave Hyunjin his phone back. It seemed to you like it weighed a ton all of a sudden. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, or maybe it was because you didn’t want him to see your tears.

But it was too late. “Ah, shit, I didn’t want you to cry, I just, you said, well I thought—” Hyunjin stuttered his life away while you sat there, watching the river. 

Your heart. In your chest. They were operating on it. They had cut it open and were trying to restart it. After all, dead things didn’t hurt that much, did they?

“Hyunjin,” you heard yourself say, your voice weak and shaking. “I saw your paintings. Some of them. And I know that something—someone—broke your heart.” You wiped the few tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks. “I know that your pain is deep. Deeper than the soul.”

You did look at him then, his face illuminated by the screen of his phone which still showed the sketches. His eyes had a glassy aspect to them. Was he high or was he sad?

“I have a pain like that too.” They had hooked your heart onto a defibrillator. It jumped in your chest but it did not restart. Hyunjin put the phone down, listening intently, wiping, too, the corner of his eye. “The woman. On the drawing.” You motioned at the device resting on the grass. “That was me once.”

Slowly, Hyunjin put together what you were trying to tell him. And you didn’t even know why you were telling him. It made no sense. You didn’t talk about this. To anyone. Ever.

You almost told him everything. How losing Judith had driven you crazy enough that you were convinced you had somehow caused it. That it was all a punishment for all the greedy things you had done, the horrible thoughts you had. That you were so scared at first you weren’t sure you ought to be a mother at all. That, maybe, it was best you never became a mother because maybe you would be an awful one. That life showed you what was meant to be. It forced it on you.

Forced upon you. Aloneness. 

Resentment. 

You went on but only barely—the words remained trapped in your throat, too real to be spoken out loud. 

“You don’t have to say more,” Hyunjin whispered, his speech slower than it had been. “I… I get it. I think.”

Hyunjin stared at you and you couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you understood the emotions it evoked. Horror. Compassion. Something even deeper than that. There was another detonation in your chest and this time, your heart shuddered. 

He couldn’t talk for a long time after and neither could you. But somehow, it was okay.

“I’m so sorry,” he said after a while. “God, I am so sorry.”

You wiped the rest of your tears. More might come later, but at least it was over for now. “I’m sorry for unloading this on you. You didn’t ask for any of this.” 

He shook his head. “No, no. I shouldn’t have… I just wanted… I didn’t know…”

You cut him off. It felt strange—like the pain was very much there still but different. Not so alone, in a good way. As in, you were sad and you knew you would always be. But you were other things, too. “Of course you didn’t know. We don’t know each other.”

He tilted his head, just a little, staring right into your eyes. “But I don’t think we’re strangers anymore.” He was beautiful the way art was beautiful. It took some time to take it all in. And you never really took it all in. He wasn’t just a piece of art anyway—he was a whole museum. “I mean, you discovered my deepest secrets in my paintings and you just told me one of yours. I think it amounts to something, doesn’t it?”

Yes. Yes it did. 

You mirrored him, cocking your head to the side too, studying him. Taking in not just the sight of him but this strange feeling that was carving itself a home within you. You couldn’t understand what it was. Or why it was. All you could do is let it settle in.

All you could do was let your heart be revived. And you didn’t want to. Really. It was just a waste of time. It was worse than that. Your heart had died already, stopping at the same time as Judith’s. And it had remained this way when you failed at being someone that Chris could love. Should it be stopped again—and it will—it would just kill you for good. 

“Was it a long time ago?” you inquired, accepting how peculiar the conversation was. Accepting that you were comfortable with it. With him. “That… it… that you had your heart broken?”

His eyes flicked but returned to you in less than a millisecond. “Not really. Some time last year.” He breathed in. And out. “It still hurts. That’s the problem, right? It’ll always hurt. It was the first time I loved someone for real. So it hurts more. I loved her so desperately. I couldn’t admit to myself she didn’t love me back for a long time. No, it’s not even that. She didn’t want to love me back. It made it so much worse.” 

She didn’t want to love me back. How unfair.

You wondered whether Chris wanted to love you still or not. 

Hyunjin returned the question. “What about you? Was it… a long time ago?” 

“A few years. Three? Four?” How were you supposed to explain that after a while, when spending too much time in misery, it just becomes misery minus the time? “It’ll never not hurt.” 

“I feel like all those comforting phrases people say about grief only make it worse,” Hyunjin pointed out in a low voice. “We all know it will hurt always.” He frowned. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. Somewhere near, a whip-poor-will sang its distinct song a few times. A glance at the sky behind you let you know the moon was out. 

“Someone told me once that grief is just love that has nowhere to go anymore,” Hyunjin explained. “It’s meant to be comforting. But it’s not. Love, when it has nowhere to go or when it isn’t wanted. It’s not uplifting. It’s just cruel.” He looked around, startled by the sudden birdsong echoing in the night.

“It’s a whip-poor-will,” you told Hyunjin. “They kind of look like if a frog had a baby with a bird.” Chris liked to tell the tourists that, and the tourists all found it very funny. It was also strangely accurate. “You’re right. About grief. Nothing makes it not-grief.” Then, you added, “I never really talk about this.” 

Hyunjin let out a displeased grunt. “So you’re just… alone with it?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

He thought about it. “I have Minho. I don’t know where I’d be if he didn’t make me get my shit together.” He bit into his lip. “But he doesn’t know everything. So I am alone about certain things. Like resentment.” 

“Resentment.” The thing you wished you didn’t know how it felt at all. 

“You know, resentment can only exist in a place where there was once love. Maybe, for some, love turns into grief. And for others, it turns into resentment.” 

Yes. Yes. Fuck.

You felt it in your chest. An earthquake made of light. 

Could it be? That you had found the person on Earth who could understand—really understand—you? And who you could understand, too? 

No, it couldn’t be. This was too reckless. Creating bonds with others was such a significant risk that you avoided it altogether. What was the endgame here, after all? You would come hang out with Hyunjin once in a while and, throughout the summer, get to know him, perhaps even tell him everything? About Judith and about Chris and about how you missed your mom and about how you weren’t a person anymore. 

And maybe he would tell you more about his broken heart. And then he would leave and forget you ever existed. And he was handsome, dangerously so. He made stupid little butterflies appear in your stomach when he looked at you for a little too long or when he touched you or when you smelled him. And you were married and you shouldn’t even be thinking these things, you shouldn’t be thinking about his lips and wondering how it felt to be kissed by them. 

You didn’t remember it. The feeling of being embraced and kissed and loved.

You sat there, psychoanalyzing yourself, telling yourself that you were so starved for love and attention that you were willing to drink up whatever was offered to you. Even if it was just a guy being polite—not dishonest or anything, but just polite, and kind. It made sense to seek warmth when you were out there freezing to death.

But, god, he was beautiful.

“I should go back,” you heard yourself say, and it hurt you to say it. You wanted to stay here all night, talking or not talking. Just existing alongside Hyunjin for a moment. 

He nodded. “I’ll walk you back.” He stood up without waiting for a response.

You stood too, almost stumbling over as you did so. Hyunjin caught you just in time, his arm around your waist while you regained your balance. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Oh no. No no no no. No. No. Fuck.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine,” you told Hyunjin, keeping one hand on the boulder, your breath coming to a stop. It was at that moment you realized there was a difference between an arm around the waist for pretense and one with purpose. Intention. Even if that intention was as insignificant as preventing you from falling over. Pretense would always be that. A lie. An impression. The suggestion of something, which is a million times worse than nothing. 

“I’ll go,” Hyunjin insisted. “If you say no, it’s fine, but I’ll just follow you until you make it to wherever it is you’re going.” He let go of you and the night felt cooler than it had been. The ghost of his touch lingered on you and the whip-poor-will sang again. 

You had a nervous laugh. “So you’re a stalker? At least you’re an honest one.” He laughed, too.

He gathered his things and both of you retreated, walking away. You couldn’t help but look behind your shoulder as you did so, just to see it. The spot you were sitting in when something changed inside you. When your secret became a little less secret. It looked the same as it always had and if you came back here tomorrow or a year from now, it would be identical. But it would always be that place where your heart restarted. 

You had never truly believed it would ever happen, but you always figured that if your heart came back to life, you would feel it. It would be grand, like fireworks. An explosion. Lightning and thunder. You imagined it would feel as though the Earth had shifted on its axis. 

But there was none of that tonight. Turns out, a heart that’s thawing is quite silent, inconspicuous even. Turns out, one moment your heart is numb and one second later, it isn’t anymore. And that’s it.

Hyunjin helped you over the fence. You didn’t need his help but you let him because it felt good to be touched by him, even for just a moment. You walked together in silence for a long while, just following the path, taking your time. At one point, he took his phone out to look up something and his giggles echoed into the night. If you had to describe the giggles, you would say they were endearing and a little goofy, dorkish even, but contagious. 

“You were right about that bird. It does kind of look frog-ish.” For emphasis, he showed you his image search, displaying whip-poor-wills. 

You told him about some of the wildlife around and Hyunjin listened avidly, asking questions when he wanted precisions on something. He seemed particularly interested in woodpeckers and inquired plenty about the yellow-bellied sapsucker, baffled by its cry after he listened to it on his phone. “It sounds like a squeaky toy!” 

And you kept on walking. He was advancing with ease, his long legs allowing him graceful, efficient steps. You informed him you were returning to the general shop since it was open through the night, except for while you did your patrols. He asked a few questions about that, too. You told him about your parents. Your mom. He tried to give you his condolences but you didn’t let him.

The shop was in sight by the time you gathered enough courage to say something about Naro’s sketches from earlier. “Hyunjin… those sketches,” you started. “Thank you. For showing them to me.” 

“In hindsight, I shouldn’t have,” he pointed out gravely. 

“No, I’m glad you did.” And to your surprise, you meant it. “I never saw them before.”

A proud smile appeared on his face. “Of course not. We never shared those with the public or anything. They just stayed at my grandad’s place and now they’re at mine.” 

“Damn, that’s cool as hell.” You shook your head, suppressing a smile. “What else do you keep at your place? Not the stolen painting, I hope?”

He let out a heartfelt laugh. “I fucking wish,” Hyunjin sighed. “I could make some serious money with that.” 

You let silence creep in before you spoke again. “I really liked it. The art I saw from you. It’s amazing. I’ve never seen such elaborate storytelling within individual pieces like that. How long have you been painting?”

“Oh, my whole life I guess,” Hyunjin explained. “My grandfather mentored me a lot. My father worked as a curator in museums. For a while.” He paused there. “So my whole life has been about art. I tried to distance myself from it but that didn’t work, did it?” 

You snorted. “Doesn’t look like it, but it’s great though! How it’s a family thing.” 

“Yeah, you could say that.” He motioned towards the shop, now very close. “Same goes for you. It’s a family thing.” Maybe you were crazy but he looked like he hesitated. “Your family and your husband’s.” 

What were you supposed to say to that? “Yeah.”

He stopped when you reached the door. “Thank you,” he told you. “For chatting with me. And… for liking my art. You look like you know what you’re talking about, so it’s a pretty big compliment coming from you.” 

“I just like art. Good art,” you specified with a smile. “Thank you. I owe you a couple of drinks at least.” You grabbed your keys from your pocket and unlocked the front door, also turning the lights back on. 

You turned to him again—his irises were dilated, his lips were raw from biting them and from smoking and drinking. But god, he was beautiful. 

“I’d love that, so I hope you meant it.” Hyunjin smiled—a coy smile, almost. 

He did something you didn’t expect—he opened his arms and hugged you briefly. Just a couple of seconds, pressing you against him with his big arms around you. His body was warm, and his embrace was gentle, tender even.

“Bye,” Hyunjin whispered, pulling away. “I’ll see you around.”

He turned and walked away, leaving you speechless. His scent stayed on you all night. You spent hours trying to reason with yourself but there was no point. 

Turns out, there is a difference between a thawed heart and one that’s set ablaze. 

A big fucking difference.

... to be continued.

Note from Mari: I do feel like a broken record when I write these but I absolutely want to say thank you to my readers. Thank you for reading my stories, sure, but also for making this place a welcoming one for me and for treating me the way you do, which is with kindness, compassion, and love. I don't think I deserve so much, but I keep all of it in my heart. Thank you for giving me a purpose.

This is a combination of my old and new permanent taglist. It seems like I upset a few people by restarting my taglist and I do apologize. It's more work than it seems to keep track and since so many people on it were silent readers or straight up inactive, I wanted to try and make it a little easier for me. Only a handful of people responded to my initial post so I assumed people were losing interest and no longer wished to be on my taglist, hence why I didn't make several subsequent announcements regarding it. I didn't mean to hurt anyone or ignore anyone. I did my best to compile everybody for this one and am sorry if I missed anyone. Please let me know.

Permanent taglist:

@abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @anylady-fics ; @b4kuho3 ; 

@binstitsweat ; @byeobie ; @cb97percent ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ; 

@compersian ; @cybergracie ;  @hanjingin ; @hwan-g ; @hyuneyeon ;

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[hyvneluv]

I’m about to make this clip my whole personality because do you see this cute dumpling

[hyvneluv]

I don’t usually post reblog comments under fics but my friend recently recommended this to me and it might just be one of my favourite portrayals of Hyunjin and one of the best writings that have ever blessed my eyes and brain… but I saw the last update was in 2022 so I don’t know if we’ll ever get an update for the last part but it’s so good and I feel like everyone needs to read it…

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.

part one of the velvet opiate series— part two.

pairing: rockstar! hyunjin x reader (+ minho, felix, chan)

genre: visual gothic rock band, manipulation, dark smut, hurt/comfort, toxic skz, set in the late 90’s-early 00’s.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: profanity, sexual themes, unprotected intercourse, drug & alcohol abuse, violence, self hate, mentioned self harm, mentioned bdsm, dark! members.

a/n: this is a dark fic. i do not condone the actions of the characters, nor do i associate the guys with this behavior. this is entirely fictional. lmk what you think! 🤭

The newspaper wrote ‘Yokohama Arena: the horrors of Velvet Opiate’s destructive nature,’ in bold letters.

Felix read the article animatedly, emphasizing how ‘scandalous’ this band was, how ‘corrupting young girls, and brainwashing teenagers should and would not be encouraged.’ That societal rules are there to be followed, and ‘these barbaric acts of animalistic chaos have to stop’, it ‘cannot on any level be considered music, when the frontman is half naked in front of high school girls.’

“Fucking gorgeous, frontman,” Felix coughed, smirking. “They got it all wrong.”

Their agency had been getting calls all morning; parents complaining, endorsers pulling out, others paying double to have the band advertise their products. Magazines wanting to set up interviews—one thing was certain.

Everyone was talking about Velvet Opiate—everyone wanted a piece of them. Good, or bad, or both. As long as they were paying.

Their manager had them turn on the TV—channel 7 was reporting on yesterday’s concert, broadcasting the band across the nation. If anything, their little scheme had worked. What would a rock band be, after all, without bad publicity?

Chan pulled his cap further down, hiding his face from view. “We’re gonna have to go into hiding for a while,” he crossed his arms.

“Lockdown, huh?” Minho looked bored. Hyunjin could almost see the gears in his mind, already working out ways to sneak out.

“Just for a couple weeks,” their manager promised. “You’ll be staying at the same hotel, as usual. And Minho, for fuck’s sake, don’t even think about it this time.”

Minho met Hyunjin’s eyes—smug bastard. Knew it.

“Got it, boss,” he replied, fake defeat in his stance.

“Wardrobe is ready for you. This will be the last interview for a while. Remember to not mention yesterday, the interviewer has been made aware.”

All of it was an act—a costume that they had to wear. Felix had become the ‘it’ boy of the scene, Vivienne Westwood had wanted an exclusive contract with them, because of him—he was destined to lead a band, and he carried it well with his deep voice, and unique features.

Chan was the heart and soul of their music. Without him, they’d be nothing. His ability to produce and oversee everything, his patience with the members, his cool demeanor and critical thinking—it’s helped them out of difficult-to-navigate situations.

Like Hyunjin’s drug scandal. Like Minho’s mystery pregnant girl.

They survived those things, because the label believes in Chan’s song making; because Chan fought for them—because what they have, has been Chan’s dream since he was a little boy, watching Led Zeppelin on TV, swearing to himself he’d be just like them when he grew up. What a fucking dream.

The rest of them? They’re just there for the ride. They’re there, because they’re handsome, and because they can play an instrument. Trouble always finds them, they attract chaos.

Hyunjin had always been a quiet boy, a reserved artist. He picked up painting as a hobby when he was a teenager, and now cannot, for the life of him, find where he ends and color begins. It always has to be obsession with him—heart attack, on the floor bleeding, if you take something that’s his.

He has trouble quitting—like Minho. But where Minho can be cold, and detached, Hyunjin would rather bury himself alive.

It started with cutting when he was nine; his mother abandoned him for a month, and his father, the rich asshole, was never there for a day in his life—Hyunjin struggled with loneliness from a young age. He would accept anyone that gave him a little love, would split himself open for them, and would ultimately fall into the deepest fits of depression after they left him.

He got used a lot. Sometimes it’d be older women, sometimes classmates, wanting his money. He gave, and gave, and believed all of them. Then the alcohol came, and it numbed the pain so good. A false sense of confidence.

That’s when he picked up the electric guitar. The loudness of it, could drown him whole. An artist through and through, alone in the world, with money to burn. A cliché fucking tragedy.

Heroin didn’t come ‘till later, but no one wants to hear about that. All of it was an act—a costume they had to wear.

As for Minho—a total mystery. A question mark. He appeared like God one day, when they were looking for a bassist, and since then he’s given them some of the best bass lines there are out there. A womanizer, good at getting his way, secretive when it comes to his personal life.

Hyunjin knows he grew up in an orphanage. The media has attempted to dig deeper, find out more, but the agency pays them good money to stop trying.

For the past two years, since he’s joined them, they’ve become like brothers. Felix hates his guts sometimes, but Hyunjin has seen the way Minho gently guides him, has seen how protective he is over the youngest and the most important.

For Hyunjin, Felix is his twin. The public sees it that way, and the label sells them like that. Every photo shoot, every album jacket, Felix is Hyunjin’s mirror. The light to his dark, the sun to his moon. In a way, they attract each other.

The interviewer asks all this, and all of them try to paint an interesting personality. All an act, all a costume. No one ever truly knows, and that’s fine, as long as that blinding, glamour like limelight falls on them every night. As long as they get to play, and be together.

“Lastly, the fans would like to know—do any of you have girlfriends?”

Wouldn’t you like to know? Chan glanced at Minho. He had intently been staring at this woman, and she had noticed, how could she have not?

“Are you interested?” Minho asked, half teasing, half joking. Legs crossed, arms crossed over each other, that simple, that easy.

Minho had found his girl for the night.

“We’re all single, ma’am. Are we done here?” Chan, ever the politest individual, all business.

“Yes, I think so. Thank you so much!”

The members got up, and bowed. Countless autographs, and pictures later, Velvet Opiate was back in the van, ready for some well deserved privacy. Except for Minho.

Minho was waiting in the hall, a dark angel dressed in an all black private school uniform, with numerous silver, safety pins all over, a slightly oversized leather jacket draped on his shoulders.

Inky mid length purple hair, and glittery dark brown eyes. He will devour that girl whole, Felix said, looking between them. He wasn’t wrong.

Their manager entered the SUV, doing a head count.

“Goddamnit, Lee!”

Chan snorted. “Did you really expect him to behave?”

Hyunjin had been silent, looking out the window, cigarette in mouth. He was itching for something more, the hole in his heart growing larger.

“Speaking of,” he started, “could you drop me off at the Red Light?”

“Hyunjin,” Chan warned.

He knew. No matter how many times Minho broke the rules, he would always get a slap in the knee. Because he can contain himself—because he knows what too much is, knows how to get himself out.

Hyunjin would never be Minho. Hyunjin would be his own demise.

“I really need this, man.”

“What you need is sleep—”

“You guys have no idea how much shit you’re in. There are mosquitos out there, waiting, dying to bite you. You’re killing yourselves here,” their manager was getting progressively angrier.

“I’m not always gonna be there to pick you up.”

Chan rested his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin shrugged it off, sharply. Felix sighed.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “He’s not gonna do anything with me there.”

Hyunjin hated Felix then. Hated him, because he was right. He respected the boy too much to invite him into the horrible fucking shitshow his personal life was. With that being said, the itch was becoming a pain, and it wouldn’t be long now.

“You’re going for her, aren’t you?” Felix whispered, once the car was on the road.

Hyunjin’s face was half hidden behind long blonde hair. Exhaling smoke, he looked at his better twin. Shorter, platinum hair on top of a cute, kind face. So many piercings adorning his ears, a single stud on his nose. Plaid suit, with combat boots.

Picture perfect rockstar, coming to the rescue. Hyunjin smiled, throwing his cigarette out the window.

“She doesn’t mean anything, honey.”

Felix scowled. “Fuck you, Hwang.”

“Say when.”

“Ladies,” Chan reasoned from the back seat.

Hyunjin laughed a full laugh, putting his arm around Felix’s shoulders, pulling him in. Felix fought, but to no avail. Hyunjin grinned down at the younger boy.

“Maybe,” he replied honestly. “I want to see her.”

He’d seen you serving there. A vision to his drunken self, you appeared an angel to him. He’d had no voice to ask for your name, no way to bring you closer.

This time he was completely sober, much to his dismay. But he had to be—he had to know you. You’d been haunting his dreams for a month now. All his highs, you were there extending your hand to him, pulling him out the shadows, kickstarting his heart.

“I’ll have the driver pick you both up,” Joon, their manager, said. “No later than two o’clock, and no fucking drugs, Hyunjin. I mean it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I wish that was true.”

Hyunjin’s long, black trench coat was moving against the wind, making him look quite unreal. Felix followed behind him, looking out for any person recognizing them. If word got out, they could get in big trouble.

“Don’t worry too much, hm?” Another cigarette had found its way to the elder’s mouth. “You’ll forget about everything in there.”

One look at the bouncer, and the door was open, no questions asked. Hyunjin seemed well known around this place. Of course, it could be the name of the band he was in, that gave him such power, or simply the fact that he was Hwang Hyunjin. He could bewitch anyone. If only he realized that.

The bar’s name rang true, as a red neon light bled throughout the whole establishment. Black leather couches, and a never ending bar was the main point. Girls dressed in bondage served, while hypnotic, dark music played. There were no windows, just one single erotic dream, on replay.

Felix had never been there. He wondered why. Hyunjin was greeting some people behind the counter, a sinner dressed in all black, pale hair acting like a halo, enveloped in smoke.

His band mate fit right in. Felix hoped that didn’t mean he was too far gone.

Hyunjin was in agony. He needed a fix, and he needed it before Felix could sense how fucked up his friend truly was. Cigarettes did shit all for him, and he’d already went through a full pack of them.

He downed his drink, and ordered another one for Felix.

You were across the room, tiniest fucking skirt barely covering your ass. Fuck him, a hundred times. What took over him was primal, the need to see you naked making him dizzy.

What were you doing to him? His itch went away as soon as his cock got hard. He needed you. He needed you like heroin.

A flash of a black coat towards you, and you were taken away from the crowd, backed into a wall next to the bathrooms. Your heart had leapt out your chest, your breath stolen.

Who was this angel man staring into your soul?

“You have cursed me, sweetheart. I can’t see anything but you.”

Those lips, those eyes… You’d seen them before. On TV. Long black coat, angel hair, long fingers playing the guitar…

Your mouth fell open. This was the lead guitarist of Velvet Opiate. He felt so strangely familiar to you, yet you cross your heart and hope to die, you’ve never been this close to him before.

There was a cigarette in his right hand, and it was burning your eyes. You were completely trapped between the wall and his chest. It was the way he was staring down at you, like you were the last thing holding him on planet Earth.

“I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” he muttered, leaning above your lips, his tobacco breath fanning your face.

“I have to go back to work, sir, please—”

“May I kiss you?”

He looked so starved, how could you refuse? This tall, broad, shell of a man was asking you to save him, how could you ever say no?

“Yes,” a breath.

His mouth devoured yours, his non dominant hand roughly grabbing your chin. This was what hunger felt like, this kiss, the way his tongue moved with yours, searching, ravaging. You moaned, and he growled, cigarette long forgotten, now burning his hand. He felt nothing of it. Your mouth was paradise.

His hand travelled down, scratching your waist, over your hips, in between your legs, yes, yes—you were burning, scorching hot, and sweating. You wanted more, more of what he offered, all of it, whatever he would give you—

He’d give everything. You could take it all.

“Fuck, angel. You’re gonna be the death of me,” his lips got lost on your neck, sucking and biting and killing you.

Oh, you were dying too. You were gonna die with him. Your heart was beating in your ears, your blood rushing. This was what it felt like—to be wanted. Entirely.

His palm was rubbing against your aching, wet cunt, his mouth kissing you raw once again.

You would die the necessary death. As long as he never stopped kissing you, you would.

He picked you up, and walked you underneath the staircase, the darkest place of the bar. You could feel it, feel him, his want for you, what it meant. He held you against him so tight, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

He wanted you. Out of everyone, silly, old you.

“I need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

You were already nodding, already in a hurry to unzip his pants—you were going to cum on his fingers, before you could even have the real thing. You needed him inside you, too. He had started a fire, and he was the only one who could put it out, before you burned alive.

“I’m not like this,” you rasped, voice gone, tears streaming down your face. “I’m not anything like this, I swear—”

Hyunjin wiped your eyes, kissing down your cheeks, as you grabbed his cock. He faltered, taking a sharp intake, eyes squeezing shut.

“Tiny fucking skirt, an angel just for me,” Hyunjin words were feverish, all in your mercy. You guided him in your cunt, and he cursed. “You’re just for me, baby.”

He entered you in one fluid movement, and you both groaned. Your arms hugged his neck tighter, as he started fucking you brutally. Your back was hitting the wall with every thrust, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were so wet, so incredibly wet for him, and aching—an ache so strong, you’d let him fuck you in front of everyone, if that’s what he wanted.

You should’ve known he’d be bad for you, then. Instead, you didn’t. You let yourself be fucked senseless, and you came hard, over and over, as Hyunjin whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

Letting a stranger have his way with you like this—what were you thinking?

You weren’t. You’d do it again, in a heartbeat.

“Your dick feels so good, fuck…” You had been reduced to whimpers, and tears. “Please…please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart? I wanna fucking cum in you, angel. My perfect girl. That’s right, baby, fuck on me, get whatever you need…take it all…”

When he came in you, you realized this man had destroyed himself for you. A dark angel, his seed deep within you, his breath stolen by you. Your taste all over his fingers. This man would have to leave with your scent all over him.

When you came for him, Hyunjin knew he would never leave you alone. His perfect angel, draped in red, fucked out, holding onto him. That’s what all his dreams were about.

You, naked, being taken—being consumed by him. There was nothing stronger than you, then. Nothing he craved more.

A terrifying panic set in him. Being addicted to a person was so much worse than being addicted to a needle. He was getting buried again, like every time before.

One look at you in his arms, and he couldn’t give a damn about himself. Cursed, and alone. He was dead already, he had died a long time ago.

Setting you down, he helped you with your skirt, making sure to memorize your skin, kneeling on one knee for you to hold onto, while his mind was taken over by shadows again.

He would have to leave you, with no way to see you again. Damn him to Hell.

He needed a drink, and a fucking cigarette. He was not good at leaving—was never the one to go. But there was no choice—Joon would agree.

Better it being a person, than a drug. Even if the person can be so much more deadly.

You crouched down with him, holding his bicep, trying to get a look on his face. You saw the flame of the cigarette, but his eyes were covered by silky hair. Your heart skipped a beat—this man was breathtakingly beautiful, and he had wanted you, but he didn’t belong anywhere near you. How, then, was this going to end up in anything other than heartbreak?

You were prepared. All rockstars fuck girls, and never speak to them again. You weren’t stupid, but you were naive. You did fall for the oldest trick, after all.

Love. Pretend.

What you weren’t prepared for, though, was seeing tears trickle down his porcelain face after he turned your way. Dark eyes, taking in your face, his hand reaching for your neck.

When it wrapped around you like a vine, it felt like you deserved it. A punishment for falling into a trap. He stared at you like this, grip never tightening, no matter how much you wanted it to.

He smiled at you then; through tears, through angel hair; picture perfect—your broken rockstar.

“My girl,” he murmured. You went to reach for his face, but he shook his head. Your hand dropped like dead weight.

Your heart dropped with it.

His fingers moved, down to your collarbones, making way up your neck again, grasping a fistful of hair, pulling lightly, and then finally resting on the back of your neck. He looked like he wanted to kiss you, but made no move to do so.

You waited, like a beggar, like a little girl waiting for Christmas. You waited for the present, you waited for the crumbs.

“I won’t see you for a while,” his hand moved away, and he got up, leaving you down.

Missing him already.

“Tell me I wasn’t stupid to do this, and I’ll believe you,” you said, looking up at him.

Your broad angel of death, in all his ruin.

He took a long puff of his cigarette, considering your words. No matter what he said, it would sound like a lie. You held too much over him, to be betrayed.

You held his sanity, now.

“You’re my lifeline, now, angel.”

You had no idea what that meant, how much it entailed. But you’d learn, later, and wish you never did. He will ignore this, and love you dead.

Because this is what he does. Because this is a very old story, and there is no other version to it. It has to be this, always.

When he left you, his black coat swung behind him, halo on his head. You had been sure he’d been a dream.

How to meet a dream again? How to wait for it?

Hyunjin found Felix making out with, what he assumed was, a waitress. The music had changed into something with more bass. He grabbed Felix’s half empty drink, and downed it.

Then he knocked on the table loudly. Felix groaned, and looked at his direction.

“You’re back,” he commented, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Should I leave you here?”

Felix considered it. The waitress on him giggled, and the choice was made.

“You’ll be okay on your own? Promise me,” Felix’s features sobered immediately.

Hyunjin nodded. “Always.”

Later, when he couldn’t move his body, the abandoned house burning a slow, blue fire, he thought promises meant nothing.

No one ever kept them.

[hyvneluv]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.

part one of the velvet opiate series— part two.

pairing: rockstar! hyunjin x reader (+ minho, felix, chan)

genre: visual gothic rock band, manipulation, dark smut, hurt/comfort, toxic skz, set in the late 90’s-early 00’s.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: profanity, sexual themes, unprotected intercourse, drug & alcohol abuse, violence, self hate, mentioned self harm, mentioned bdsm, dark! members.

a/n: this is a dark fic. i do not condone the actions of the characters, nor do i associate the guys with this behavior. this is entirely fictional. lmk what you think! 🤭

The newspaper wrote ‘Yokohama Arena: the horrors of Velvet Opiate’s destructive nature,’ in bold letters.

Felix read the article animatedly, emphasizing how ‘scandalous’ this band was, how ‘corrupting young girls, and brainwashing teenagers should and would not be encouraged.’ That societal rules are there to be followed, and ‘these barbaric acts of animalistic chaos have to stop’, it ‘cannot on any level be considered music, when the frontman is half naked in front of high school girls.’

“Fucking gorgeous, frontman,” Felix coughed, smirking. “They got it all wrong.”

Their agency had been getting calls all morning; parents complaining, endorsers pulling out, others paying double to have the band advertise their products. Magazines wanting to set up interviews—one thing was certain.

Everyone was talking about Velvet Opiate—everyone wanted a piece of them. Good, or bad, or both. As long as they were paying.

Their manager had them turn on the TV—channel 7 was reporting on yesterday’s concert, broadcasting the band across the nation. If anything, their little scheme had worked. What would a rock band be, after all, without bad publicity?

Chan pulled his cap further down, hiding his face from view. “We’re gonna have to go into hiding for a while,” he crossed his arms.

“Lockdown, huh?” Minho looked bored. Hyunjin could almost see the gears in his mind, already working out ways to sneak out.

“Just for a couple weeks,” their manager promised. “You’ll be staying at the same hotel, as usual. And Minho, for fuck’s sake, don’t even think about it this time.”

Minho met Hyunjin’s eyes—smug bastard. Knew it.

“Got it, boss,” he replied, fake defeat in his stance.

“Wardrobe is ready for you. This will be the last interview for a while. Remember to not mention yesterday, the interviewer has been made aware.”

All of it was an act—a costume that they had to wear. Felix had become the ‘it’ boy of the scene, Vivienne Westwood had wanted an exclusive contract with them, because of him—he was destined to lead a band, and he carried it well with his deep voice, and unique features.

Chan was the heart and soul of their music. Without him, they’d be nothing. His ability to produce and oversee everything, his patience with the members, his cool demeanor and critical thinking—it’s helped them out of difficult-to-navigate situations.

Like Hyunjin’s drug scandal. Like Minho’s mystery pregnant girl.

They survived those things, because the label believes in Chan’s song making; because Chan fought for them—because what they have, has been Chan’s dream since he was a little boy, watching Led Zeppelin on TV, swearing to himself he’d be just like them when he grew up. What a fucking dream.

The rest of them? They’re just there for the ride. They’re there, because they’re handsome, and because they can play an instrument. Trouble always finds them, they attract chaos.

Hyunjin had always been a quiet boy, a reserved artist. He picked up painting as a hobby when he was a teenager, and now cannot, for the life of him, find where he ends and color begins. It always has to be obsession with him—heart attack, on the floor bleeding, if you take something that’s his.

He has trouble quitting—like Minho. But where Minho can be cold, and detached, Hyunjin would rather bury himself alive.

It started with cutting when he was nine; his mother abandoned him for a month, and his father, the rich asshole, was never there for a day in his life—Hyunjin struggled with loneliness from a young age. He would accept anyone that gave him a little love, would split himself open for them, and would ultimately fall into the deepest fits of depression after they left him.

He got used a lot. Sometimes it’d be older women, sometimes classmates, wanting his money. He gave, and gave, and believed all of them. Then the alcohol came, and it numbed the pain so good. A false sense of confidence.

That’s when he picked up the electric guitar. The loudness of it, could drown him whole. An artist through and through, alone in the world, with money to burn. A cliché fucking tragedy.

Heroin didn’t come ‘till later, but no one wants to hear about that. All of it was an act—a costume they had to wear.

As for Minho—a total mystery. A question mark. He appeared like God one day, when they were looking for a bassist, and since then he’s given them some of the best bass lines there are out there. A womanizer, good at getting his way, secretive when it comes to his personal life.

Hyunjin knows he grew up in an orphanage. The media has attempted to dig deeper, find out more, but the agency pays them good money to stop trying.

For the past two years, since he’s joined them, they’ve become like brothers. Felix hates his guts sometimes, but Hyunjin has seen the way Minho gently guides him, has seen how protective he is over the youngest and the most important.

For Hyunjin, Felix is his twin. The public sees it that way, and the label sells them like that. Every photo shoot, every album jacket, Felix is Hyunjin’s mirror. The light to his dark, the sun to his moon. In a way, they attract each other.

The interviewer asks all this, and all of them try to paint an interesting personality. All an act, all a costume. No one ever truly knows, and that’s fine, as long as that blinding, glamour like limelight falls on them every night. As long as they get to play, and be together.

“Lastly, the fans would like to know—do any of you have girlfriends?”

Wouldn’t you like to know? Chan glanced at Minho. He had intently been staring at this woman, and she had noticed, how could she have not?

“Are you interested?” Minho asked, half teasing, half joking. Legs crossed, arms crossed over each other, that simple, that easy.

Minho had found his girl for the night.

“We’re all single, ma’am. Are we done here?” Chan, ever the politest individual, all business.

“Yes, I think so. Thank you so much!”

The members got up, and bowed. Countless autographs, and pictures later, Velvet Opiate was back in the van, ready for some well deserved privacy. Except for Minho.

Minho was waiting in the hall, a dark angel dressed in an all black private school uniform, with numerous silver, safety pins all over, a slightly oversized leather jacket draped on his shoulders.

Inky mid length purple hair, and glittery dark brown eyes. He will devour that girl whole, Felix said, looking between them. He wasn’t wrong.

Their manager entered the SUV, doing a head count.

“Goddamnit, Lee!”

Chan snorted. “Did you really expect him to behave?”

Hyunjin had been silent, looking out the window, cigarette in mouth. He was itching for something more, the hole in his heart growing larger.

“Speaking of,” he started, “could you drop me off at the Red Light?”

“Hyunjin,” Chan warned.

He knew. No matter how many times Minho broke the rules, he would always get a slap in the knee. Because he can contain himself—because he knows what too much is, knows how to get himself out.

Hyunjin would never be Minho. Hyunjin would be his own demise.

“I really need this, man.”

“What you need is sleep—”

“You guys have no idea how much shit you’re in. There are mosquitos out there, waiting, dying to bite you. You’re killing yourselves here,” their manager was getting progressively angrier.

“I’m not always gonna be there to pick you up.”

Chan rested his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin shrugged it off, sharply. Felix sighed.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “He’s not gonna do anything with me there.”

Hyunjin hated Felix then. Hated him, because he was right. He respected the boy too much to invite him into the horrible fucking shitshow his personal life was. With that being said, the itch was becoming a pain, and it wouldn’t be long now.

“You’re going for her, aren’t you?” Felix whispered, once the car was on the road.

Hyunjin’s face was half hidden behind long blonde hair. Exhaling smoke, he looked at his better twin. Shorter, platinum hair on top of a cute, kind face. So many piercings adorning his ears, a single stud on his nose. Plaid suit, with combat boots.

Picture perfect rockstar, coming to the rescue. Hyunjin smiled, throwing his cigarette out the window.

“She doesn’t mean anything, honey.”

Felix scowled. “Fuck you, Hwang.”

“Say when.”

“Ladies,” Chan reasoned from the back seat.

Hyunjin laughed a full laugh, putting his arm around Felix’s shoulders, pulling him in. Felix fought, but to no avail. Hyunjin grinned down at the younger boy.

“Maybe,” he replied honestly. “I want to see her.”

He’d seen you serving there. A vision to his drunken self, you appeared an angel to him. He’d had no voice to ask for your name, no way to bring you closer.

This time he was completely sober, much to his dismay. But he had to be—he had to know you. You’d been haunting his dreams for a month now. All his highs, you were there extending your hand to him, pulling him out the shadows, kickstarting his heart.

“I’ll have the driver pick you both up,” Joon, their manager, said. “No later than two o’clock, and no fucking drugs, Hyunjin. I mean it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I wish that was true.”

Hyunjin’s long, black trench coat was moving against the wind, making him look quite unreal. Felix followed behind him, looking out for any person recognizing them. If word got out, they could get in big trouble.

“Don’t worry too much, hm?” Another cigarette had found its way to the elder’s mouth. “You’ll forget about everything in there.”

One look at the bouncer, and the door was open, no questions asked. Hyunjin seemed well known around this place. Of course, it could be the name of the band he was in, that gave him such power, or simply the fact that he was Hwang Hyunjin. He could bewitch anyone. If only he realized that.

The bar’s name rang true, as a red neon light bled throughout the whole establishment. Black leather couches, and a never ending bar was the main point. Girls dressed in bondage served, while hypnotic, dark music played. There were no windows, just one single erotic dream, on replay.

Felix had never been there. He wondered why. Hyunjin was greeting some people behind the counter, a sinner dressed in all black, pale hair acting like a halo, enveloped in smoke.

His band mate fit right in. Felix hoped that didn’t mean he was too far gone.

Hyunjin was in agony. He needed a fix, and he needed it before Felix could sense how fucked up his friend truly was. Cigarettes did shit all for him, and he’d already went through a full pack of them.

He downed his drink, and ordered another one for Felix.

You were across the room, tiniest fucking skirt barely covering your ass. Fuck him, a hundred times. What took over him was primal, the need to see you naked making him dizzy.

What were you doing to him? His itch went away as soon as his cock got hard. He needed you. He needed you like heroin.

A flash of a black coat towards you, and you were taken away from the crowd, backed into a wall next to the bathrooms. Your heart had leapt out your chest, your breath stolen.

Who was this angel man staring into your soul?

“You have cursed me, sweetheart. I can’t see anything but you.”

Those lips, those eyes… You’d seen them before. On TV. Long black coat, angel hair, long fingers playing the guitar…

Your mouth fell open. This was the lead guitarist of Velvet Opiate. He felt so strangely familiar to you, yet you cross your heart and hope to die, you’ve never been this close to him before.

There was a cigarette in his right hand, and it was burning your eyes. You were completely trapped between the wall and his chest. It was the way he was staring down at you, like you were the last thing holding him on planet Earth.

“I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” he muttered, leaning above your lips, his tobacco breath fanning your face.

“I have to go back to work, sir, please—”

“May I kiss you?”

He looked so starved, how could you refuse? This tall, broad, shell of a man was asking you to save him, how could you ever say no?

“Yes,” a breath.

His mouth devoured yours, his non dominant hand roughly grabbing your chin. This was what hunger felt like, this kiss, the way his tongue moved with yours, searching, ravaging. You moaned, and he growled, cigarette long forgotten, now burning his hand. He felt nothing of it. Your mouth was paradise.

His hand travelled down, scratching your waist, over your hips, in between your legs, yes, yes—you were burning, scorching hot, and sweating. You wanted more, more of what he offered, all of it, whatever he would give you—

He’d give everything. You could take it all.

“Fuck, angel. You’re gonna be the death of me,” his lips got lost on your neck, sucking and biting and killing you.

Oh, you were dying too. You were gonna die with him. Your heart was beating in your ears, your blood rushing. This was what it felt like—to be wanted. Entirely.

His palm was rubbing against your aching, wet cunt, his mouth kissing you raw once again.

You would die the necessary death. As long as he never stopped kissing you, you would.

He picked you up, and walked you underneath the staircase, the darkest place of the bar. You could feel it, feel him, his want for you, what it meant. He held you against him so tight, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

He wanted you. Out of everyone, silly, old you.

“I need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

You were already nodding, already in a hurry to unzip his pants—you were going to cum on his fingers, before you could even have the real thing. You needed him inside you, too. He had started a fire, and he was the only one who could put it out, before you burned alive.

“I’m not like this,” you rasped, voice gone, tears streaming down your face. “I’m not anything like this, I swear—”

Hyunjin wiped your eyes, kissing down your cheeks, as you grabbed his cock. He faltered, taking a sharp intake, eyes squeezing shut.

“Tiny fucking skirt, an angel just for me,” Hyunjin words were feverish, all in your mercy. You guided him in your cunt, and he cursed. “You’re just for me, baby.”

He entered you in one fluid movement, and you both groaned. Your arms hugged his neck tighter, as he started fucking you brutally. Your back was hitting the wall with every thrust, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were so wet, so incredibly wet for him, and aching—an ache so strong, you’d let him fuck you in front of everyone, if that’s what he wanted.

You should’ve known he’d be bad for you, then. Instead, you didn’t. You let yourself be fucked senseless, and you came hard, over and over, as Hyunjin whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

Letting a stranger have his way with you like this—what were you thinking?

You weren’t. You’d do it again, in a heartbeat.

“Your dick feels so good, fuck…” You had been reduced to whimpers, and tears. “Please…please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart? I wanna fucking cum in you, angel. My perfect girl. That’s right, baby, fuck on me, get whatever you need…take it all…”

When he came in you, you realized this man had destroyed himself for you. A dark angel, his seed deep within you, his breath stolen by you. Your taste all over his fingers. This man would have to leave with your scent all over him.

When you came for him, Hyunjin knew he would never leave you alone. His perfect angel, draped in red, fucked out, holding onto him. That’s what all his dreams were about.

You, naked, being taken—being consumed by him. There was nothing stronger than you, then. Nothing he craved more.

A terrifying panic set in him. Being addicted to a person was so much worse than being addicted to a needle. He was getting buried again, like every time before.

One look at you in his arms, and he couldn’t give a damn about himself. Cursed, and alone. He was dead already, he had died a long time ago.

Setting you down, he helped you with your skirt, making sure to memorize your skin, kneeling on one knee for you to hold onto, while his mind was taken over by shadows again.

He would have to leave you, with no way to see you again. Damn him to Hell.

He needed a drink, and a fucking cigarette. He was not good at leaving—was never the one to go. But there was no choice—Joon would agree.

Better it being a person, than a drug. Even if the person can be so much more deadly.

You crouched down with him, holding his bicep, trying to get a look on his face. You saw the flame of the cigarette, but his eyes were covered by silky hair. Your heart skipped a beat—this man was breathtakingly beautiful, and he had wanted you, but he didn’t belong anywhere near you. How, then, was this going to end up in anything other than heartbreak?

You were prepared. All rockstars fuck girls, and never speak to them again. You weren’t stupid, but you were naive. You did fall for the oldest trick, after all.

Love. Pretend.

What you weren’t prepared for, though, was seeing tears trickle down his porcelain face after he turned your way. Dark eyes, taking in your face, his hand reaching for your neck.

When it wrapped around you like a vine, it felt like you deserved it. A punishment for falling into a trap. He stared at you like this, grip never tightening, no matter how much you wanted it to.

He smiled at you then; through tears, through angel hair; picture perfect—your broken rockstar.

“My girl,” he murmured. You went to reach for his face, but he shook his head. Your hand dropped like dead weight.

Your heart dropped with it.

His fingers moved, down to your collarbones, making way up your neck again, grasping a fistful of hair, pulling lightly, and then finally resting on the back of your neck. He looked like he wanted to kiss you, but made no move to do so.

You waited, like a beggar, like a little girl waiting for Christmas. You waited for the present, you waited for the crumbs.

“I won’t see you for a while,” his hand moved away, and he got up, leaving you down.

Missing him already.

“Tell me I wasn’t stupid to do this, and I’ll believe you,” you said, looking up at him.

Your broad angel of death, in all his ruin.

He took a long puff of his cigarette, considering your words. No matter what he said, it would sound like a lie. You held too much over him, to be betrayed.

You held his sanity, now.

“You’re my lifeline, now, angel.”

You had no idea what that meant, how much it entailed. But you’d learn, later, and wish you never did. He will ignore this, and love you dead.

Because this is what he does. Because this is a very old story, and there is no other version to it. It has to be this, always.

When he left you, his black coat swung behind him, halo on his head. You had been sure he’d been a dream.

How to meet a dream again? How to wait for it?

Hyunjin found Felix making out with, what he assumed was, a waitress. The music had changed into something with more bass. He grabbed Felix’s half empty drink, and downed it.

Then he knocked on the table loudly. Felix groaned, and looked at his direction.

“You’re back,” he commented, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Should I leave you here?”

Felix considered it. The waitress on him giggled, and the choice was made.

“You’ll be okay on your own? Promise me,” Felix’s features sobered immediately.

Hyunjin nodded. “Always.”

Later, when he couldn’t move his body, the abandoned house burning a slow, blue fire, he thought promises meant nothing.

No one ever kept them.