#*It’s really been a real nuisance and most likely caught it due to the weather where I live being chilly.*

[imaginativeworks]

I caught a really bad cold these past few days and I’d really appreciate if you’d send me an ask, it can be about anything really, to help me keep my mind off it.

Thank you, please take care of yourselves too and I hope you have a lovely day and everyday after! 💕

[poptod]

Brought To Your Knees (Kenny x Reader)

Description: 7-Elevens are a lot more versatile than one might originally think. AKA, sometimes you can get locked in them with your long-time crush and, following that, things can happen.

Notes: Freshman means you’re around 14-15 years old, Sophomore is 15-16 I think, Junior is 16-17, Senior is 17-18. Idk the American schooling system too well. Completely male reader.

Warning: Smut :) not sure why its there but hey everyone needs a gratuitous blow job every now and then

Word Count: 6.1k

You were expecting rain. You even brought an umbrella along, tucked away in the side pocket of your backpack, but an umbrella clearly wouldn’t work very well. Snow fell harsh upon the earth, cold and freezing near instantly, making a very thick layer of snow trap you inside the 7-Eleven, the doors frozen shut despite the fact that the heating was still on.

How exactly one gets trapped inside a 7-Eleven with the only person they’ve ever really loved probably needs some explaining, so let’s go back to the beginning; seven years ago. Seven years ago you transferred schools due to an unfortunate accident with a classmate, at least that’s what’s on your record. Half of you is grateful no one knows what really happened, but the other half wishes people knew you punched someone in the face hard enough to dislocate their nose. Though, looking at you, most people probably wouldn’t believe you, considering you haven’t got the strongest body structure. Your (at the time) new school was better than the last one in several ways, but the most important to you was the fact that it was a public school. There were horror stories about public schools, of unruly students and horrible teachers, and by god did you want to experience that - private school was far too clean, far too organized for your mind, and you were going slowly insane.

If there’s a term to describe you, it’d probably be ‘thrill seeker,’ if asshole can’t be said out loud. For the first couple of years you were a nuisance to classrooms, the well known class clown and always up for distracting the teacher (the history teachers were the easiest to distract, math teachers the hardest), and always ready to fight back for what you believed was right. Then came your first year of high school and you found the greatest thrill of all - boys.

Previously you hadn’t taken much of a romantic interest in either gender, and most people said it’d kickstart sometime in high school, which was about right - freshman year you had a crush on a boy named Everett. It wasn’t a particularly strong crush, not compared to your more recent crushes, but it was your first, and you knew exactly what you wanted to do. You wanted him to fall in love with you, hopelessly and endlessly, you wanted him to hang on your every word and dream of your affections... but you didn’t want to be in a relationship with him. No, you just wanted his adoration, and nothing more - only to lead him on and drop his heart to break it. When this didn’t happen and he didn’t fall in love with you, you realized that most boys are not attracted to other boys, and you became deathly silent when it came to crushes.

Several other boys (and maybe a girl) caught your fancy in the remainder of freshman year, but there was one boy you hadn’t yet met that would become the greatest thrill of all. Junior year you had a class with him, and on the first day of school when you walked into English class your bag fell from your hands, clattering to the floor with a loud thump.

He is perfect, in every conceivable way he’s everything you’ve ever imagined, shy and kind, sincere and genuinely interesting - just the sight of him from that day on and your heart speeds up tenfold. You’re a horror story that teachers talk about, so Mr. Davis is clearly flabbergasted at your silence, and for the most part he leaves you alone even though you’re barely paying attention to the blackboard at the front of the classroom. Instead your attention is focused on the boy sitting two seats in front of you and a row to the right. It’s almost surprising he hasn’t noticed your staring, but clearly Mr. Davis notices because about two months into the school year he pulls you aside to talk about it.

“I wanted to talk to you about your attention,” he says quietly, sitting behind his desk as you stand at the other side. You’re playing absentmindedly with your fingers, barely listening to him, only staying where you are to avoid another hour of detention today. “I know you’re usually very loud in class, word gets around easily here, but you’re staring at your classmate a lot.”

“And?” You ask, not really seeing the point. In your mind, he should be thankful you’re not a disruption.

“Is… is there anything you want to tell me? About Kenny?”

“Who’s Kenny?”

“… that’s the boy you keep staring at,” he says slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Ah, you think to yourself. That’s his name.

“Listen, (Y/N), I want you to know you’re always welcome in my classroom. This is a safe space for you, okay?” His voice goes to a whisper as he says, “I have a boyfriend, so we aren’t so different after all.”

“I’m not gay,” you spit out quickly, the venomous tone of your voice not deterring him.

“I know it can be hard to admit at first, and at your age I understand the confusion within yourself. Just know you can talk to me, okay? And try to pay more attention in class? I know you’ve got it in you.”

Without word you pick your backpack up from the floor, slinging it onto your shoulders and leaving. Just as you exit the main doors, noting the dark clouds low in the sky, you’re called back by one of the vice principals, ordering you to your detention.

“C’mon, it’s Friday,” you groan, walking backwards to stare at the teacher as you walk away.

“I’ll call your parents!” She threatens, whipping her flip phone out of her pocket.

“Oh yeah? What are they gonna do? Fuck off,” you laugh, throwing double middle-fingers at her, which lands you in three hours of detention.

At five thirty you’re released, an absolutely sour look on your face as you walk down the pavement. There’s a seedy part of the city that has a 7-Eleven you’ve been to so often you know the workers’ shifts. All of them are pretty nice, though all very tired of life and if you had to hazard a guess, mildly suicidal. At least that’s the look in their eyes, and you don’t blame them - customer service is one of the most horrid jobs in history. Friday evenings Alan has shift, and he’s rather nice, but upon opening the freezing door to the inside, you don’t see him. The door shuts behind you and you wander the aisles for a little while - you don’t have much change, you note as your fingers fiddle with the coins and bills in your coat pocket.

Several minutes later your attention is brought to the weather - it’s snowing, bad, and you groan internally at the wind force practically blowing down the stop sign out front. The few trees that survive in the city are barely hanging on now, flimsy limbs and branches ripping away from the main trunk. Again you groan, a grimace on your face when you think about having to go home in that. With a calming sigh you turn back to the hotdogs, spinning slow and peaceful in the warm light.

Heaven is one big 7-Eleven, you think to yourself. One of the very few things that calms you down is rotating hot dogs that probably aren’t real meat.

From the corner of your eye you can see someone else enter, but the wind blasting through the doors is enough for you to turn your head.

It’s Kenny.  

Of course it’s him.

Gulping you turn back to the hot dogs, hoping beyond belief that Alan will get back soon. Kenny is the only person that’s ever rendered you speechless, the only one that’s ever made your cheeks blush without a word. Even in fluorescent light he seems to glow, peaceful and careful as his fingers drag a feather touch across a row of snacks. He hasn’t noticed you, not yet, so you have time to plan out how to hide from him. Instantly you turn to the cash register, wondering if you’d get kicked out of Alan found you hiding behind the counter.

Too late - you can feel his eyes turn to you, burning into the back of your neck as you hold a viselike grip on the edge of the plastic red counter.

“Um, do you, uh, work here?” He asks, now standing directly behind you. Trying to smile, you turn to face him, feeling your heart burn with the speed it beats at.

“No, I - I just know the guys who work here, I don’t know where they are now, though,” you say, oversharing a little bit and praying he doesn’t notice. He’s right in front of you, half confused as his lips part just barely, brows furrowing above grey eyes. You can practically feel your legs giving out beneath you, but he turns to the door before you fall in front of him. Practically gasping for air as he leaves your personal space, you watch as he goes to open the door.

“Is... is this supposed to be locked?” He asks.

“No, it shouldn’t be,” you breathe out, making your way over to the door to try and open it. It’s stuck, hard - you even back up to kick it and it doesn’t budge.

“Wait, you’re… you’re (Y/N), aren’t you?”

“You know me?” You ask incredulously, even though it’s not that farfetched that he would know your name.

“Of course I do, you’re like a legend at school,” he says, getting quieter as his sentence ends. As he fiddles with his fingers, awkwardly trying to look somewhere else, you can’t help but stare as you nearly always do.

“I’m flattered,” is what you manage to say, just as choked and embarrassed as him.

“I’ll stay out of your way, just - just don’t beat me up?” He requests, holding his hands up defensively as he backs away towards the corner of the small store.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I don’t do that,” you say, taken aback by his words. You know your reputation isn’t great, but you didn’t think it was that awful - you’d never beat up an innocent person and you didn’t plan on starting. “What are you doing here anyway? I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Um, my friend… he told me to meet him at the library, but the weather got bad and I needed to get inside,” he explains, still not meeting your eye.

God you’re perfect, you think to yourself in reaction to nothing in particular - he’s just so beautiful, so supple you can’t help but wonder what he’d feel like with his bare skin against yours. More than anything you want to belong to him, which you realize is strange for you; generally you enjoy others belonging to you, but… Kenny is different for no reason, but he’s so incredibly special you can’t understand your infatuation beyond the fact that it’s insurmountable and achingly enduring.

“I might be able to make a flamethrower,” you say, trying to think of ways to not be suffocated by nearness to the object of your unending affections.

“Wait, a flamethrower? What -“ he follows you frantically as you begin to search for flammable sprays - “what for!?”

“The door is frozen shut, we might be able to get out if I melt the ice away,” you say quickly, but he’s pulling at your arms to stop you from digging through the shelves. At the force you whirl around, face to face with him as your chest practically touches his, and in an instant you can’t breathe for fear of losing the moment. You both pause, frozen into shock before he steps back like you’re poison.

“I don’t think that’s, uh, necessary,” he says slowly, and just as slow you agree, nodding as you put the lighter away.

“Sure. You have a phone?”

“No, you?”

“I keep mine at home,” you mumble, untensing as the adrenaline of the moment fades away.

“Well this sucks,” he huffs, crossing his arms and turning awkwardly to the shelves as though he didn’t want you to see his face. “At least it could be worse.”

“No, don’t say that, the power’s gonna go -“

Darkness falls over the store and the heating system goes quiet, the dull background hum going out. A loud sigh comes out of you, letting your eyes accustom to the dark before thinking of what to do next.

“I think we might be stuck here till morning,” you grumble, the dim light of streetlamps casting a gold glow over the various rows and, of course, putting Kenny in a perfectly beautiful light. You can practically feel��the blood rushing into your cheeks, and you quickly look away with crossed arms.

“I’m… sorry,” he says rather suddenly, just barely making his way closer to you.

“It’s not your fault,” you sigh. “A beautiful coincidence.”

“… beautiful?” He asks, confused by your wording - it can’t possibly be a good thing to him.

“Yeah, I -“ you look over at him, fiddling anxiously with his fingers as he looks up at you - “Never mind. You tired?”

“No, don’t think i will be for a while,” he says, sitting with his back against the refrigerated drinks, the back of his head clunking against the cold glass.

“I’ll get a flashlight and a boardgame,” you tell him, the only idea in your head that didn’t sound stupid; the entire time you’re looking through the back for games, you’re kicking the thought of cuddling him out of your mind. The situation is perfect, far too perfect for it to work out well. Besides, these types of things generally don’t work out for you - as previously said, you’re a bit of an asshole, and that trait has a tendency to screw you over.

He just sits and waits, and when you come back a good five or ten minutes later, he’s still sitting in the same position. It strikes you as odd how he hasn’t even fidgeted considering how much he was doing it earlier, but you just shine the light in his face and cackle when he winces away from the brightness.

“All they had is chess. I guess Marie took back her game, which is fair,” you add as you sit yourself down across from him, putting the box in the middle of you two. “She got fired a while back and didn’t get her game when she left. I helped get her a key for the backroom,” you recall, chuckling, but Kenny looks partially terrified, so you stop.

“You know how to play?” He asks, rubbing his hands together as he starts setting it up.

“A bit. My brother tried to teach me when we were little, I never caught on much though,” you say, thinking distantly of how your brother was doing in university. “He’s a big math guy, loves strategy games like this.”

“So you don’t like strategy…?” He asks slowly, as though worried he’d offend you - you just shrug.

“It’s not that. I’m… just more of a romantic guy.”

For a good three seconds he doesn’t breathe, but when you raise your eyebrows questioningly, he picks up again with an absent nod. Once the last pieces are set into place, he does a quick run-through of the rules, and by the end of it you’re fully aware you’re going to lose at least the first few rounds. Neither of you have a grasp on time as you go through the first round, then the second, and onto the third - you lose very fast, that’s all you’re aware of. He’s sweet about it, for which you’re confused if not thankful. If you were to play chess with some of the people you hang with, they’d be mean about winning and they’d cheat on you, which is fair; you’d do the same to them. Now you’re being nice, trying to actually understand the game, and he’s being a complete sweetheart about teaching you the rules.

It isn’t something you’re used to, but it’s something you could be used to, and something you want to be used to - this sort of kindness. Despite all the thoughts running rampant in your head you manage to stay concentrated on the game - well, him more so than the game - and it almost feels like he might like you. That’s an improvement, you think to yourself, recalling his initial fear of you.

“Could I ask you something? If you don’t mind,” he requests after you both come down from a laughing high, and you agree easily. It’s only far too easy to be open with him. “There’s lots of stories that go around about you - there’s this one, this one’s my favorite, mostly because I don’t think it really happened, but it is really funny.”

“Really? Well, rumors are half right sometimes. What horrid thing did I do this time?” You ask, using the bottle opener on your swiss knife to pop open a beer bottle.

“It’s mostly just… inappropriate, not that it was a particularly ‘bad’ thing. I heard you… slept with Isla and Gianna like, at the same time, like every high school boys’ dream. The guy I heard tell it said you snuck into a sleepover or something?” He says slept like it’s disgusting, so that paired with absolutely everything else about him you assume he’s very unexperienced.

“That’s an interesting story, which I - I don’t usually tell the truth about,” you confess, waiting for him to make his next move in the game, but the moment never comes. He’s far too engrossed in your conversation, and as wonderful as it feels to be having a real conversation with your crush, you can’t help but hate the subject.

“Will you tell the truth this time?” He asks, quiet and sincere in a way that you don’t fully expect. It pushes you to trust him just a little bit more, and it’s all you need for the truth to come out for the first time about that story.

“I went to sell them some weed because they called me up n’ said they’d pay the price for bothering me so late at night, so y’know, I said ‘fuck it,’ you only live once right? I climbed into Gianna’s window for this too, and then they offered for me to share it with them. To be fair to myself I wasn’t feeling… too great about myself,” you grow quiet, “so I said yes. And then they started bringing up sex, and they kept trying to get me to make a move on them, but I wasn’t really feeling it. I didn’t want to do it, but it.. sort of happened anyway?”

He’s quiet, sort of nodding his head but he’s too far in thought to commit to the motion fully.

“Why haven’t you told anyone the truth before?” Is what he asks at first, and you breathe out a sigh of relief when you realize it’s one of the easier questions.

“Didn’t want to seem like a pussy, that’s why,” you scoff, taking a smooth swig from your bottle. “It’s not a big deal anyway.”

“Kind of sounds like it,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a virgin,” you say, that asshole part of yourself that you were so worried about earlier rearing it’s ugly head. Right on time too, right when you could’ve opened your heart.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. You know what they say,” he says defensively, leaning back against he glass.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“The safest sex is no sex at all.”

“Yeah, and abstinence won’t get you pregnant 99.99% of the time,” you laugh. When he just looks confused, you explain, “Virgin Mary, dude.”

He opens his mouth to let out a tiny ‘oh,’ and at last the game is resumed. Throughout the next several rounds he asks more questions, but those times he doesn’t ever lose track of the game turns. By the end of the night, when you’re both finally yawning with dewey eyes, you’ve only won one round, which you’re very proud of.

“At least I beat you once,” you remark as you help him look for blankets to stay warm with. “I won a round against Mr. Chess Master.”

“And I won fourteen rounds against Mr. Sex,” he says, his eyes bulging out of his head as his hand slaps over his mouth once he realizes exactly what he’s said. You turn to him, shocked yet pleasantly surprised to find him so flustered. Dreadful is how you’d describe him, dreading your full reaction.

“Those aren’t the rounds that matter if I’m Mr. Sex,” you respond, trying to remain as smooth and deep as possible when you wink to punctuate your sentence. His mouth falls open when his hand drops back to his side, and you walk out of the storage room with a small smile.

You heave a massive sigh, gathering yourself back together once the door shuts behind you. It only takes a few seconds before he’s following you, but it’s all that’s necessary for you to gain your chill again.

“It’ll probably be easier to sleep back here,” you say, gesturing vaguely to the entirety of the backroom - it’s a tad warmer and carpeted, which is a plus for comfort. The one office chair is cheap and heavily scratched by god knows what, so you roll it into the corner and lay out a blanket on the floor. It’s not an especially nice blanket, which is what you expected. The only real source of warmth you have access to is the leftover coats from employees who didn’t care to take theirs home.

As you lay down on the blanket, covering yourself in a too-large trench coat, you wonder of the different ways the evening could progress. In fact it’s all you can think about, all your brain can stress about when Kenny lies down right beside you. He has his coat as a pillow, and without word you offer your coat to help cover him - he declines, mumbling something about how he’s already warm.

I could kiss him right now, you think, the thought sending shivers of anxious excitement and fear through your veins. He’s staring at the ceiling, and though your body is facing the same direction you’re looking at him, watching the slow movement of his chest and the tired blinking of his eyes. Or we could leave and never talk again.

You don’t know what you’re doing, hardly aware of your own movements as the back of your fingers caress the side of his face, pushing unruly hair away from his eyes. His breath catches in his chest for a moment before he turns to you, eyes wide but curious despite the obvious fear.

“You’re really handsome,” he barely gets out, a whisper that he stumbles over. Judging by his uncertainty in himself you’re confident in saying he’s being sincere - that and the fact that nothing about him insinuates he’d lead you on like that. There’s so many silent words shared between you, a bond that one hold tights while the other wonders how it’s possible.

One wrong move, you think, one wrong move and I fuck this up, just like everything else. The urge to hold him close, to grab his hands and keep them intertwined in your own runs strong through your cold fingertips, but you wait. You wait for him to make the first move, but he doesn’t even blink; he’s far too enraptured in the way your lips part just slightly, the way your eyelashes flutter when you glance nervously up and down.

“I really like you,” you say, though the words don’t fully come from your conscious self. Something grabs you, ties away your thoughts and says what you mean - exactly what you mean, something you hardly ever do. He reaches up towards your hand lying dormant beside his cheek, trailing over your skin till he tangles his fingers in yours, holding your hand tight in his as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. The entire time you stare, watching his eyes flit downwards as a blush you can barely see in the dark crawls up into his face.

In a swift movement the old coat is off of you, crumpled in some corner as you rest your forearms on either side of his head, supporting your body held above him. His breathing picks up and at last he finally looks into your eyes again, careful to watch for any sign of what comes next, but even you aren’t sure as to what you’re doing. Still you move down, inching closer till your lips press against his.

He’s clearly startled, even though he immediately moves against you, kissing up into you even if his hands don’t know where to go. In your position you can do very little, but you manage to thread your hand into his hair, tugging on it lightly as you move deeper, pulling a tiny, broken hum from him. When his hands wrap around your wrists it’s painfully obvious he’s never done this before, so you break away, letting the both of you breathe and smile when it’s finally, fully, consciously realized what just happened. It’s so starkly different than any other romantic encounter you’ve had, so openly loving and yielding you wonder if you’ll ever be able to kiss anyone but him again.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” you murmur, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck. He almost laughs, breathy and unsure as he runs his fingers down your spine.

“You could’ve done it sooner,” he tells you, whispering the words into your ear, his lips tickling the edge of it as he speaks. “I’ve had a crush on you for months.”

“Really?” You ask, pulling away to look at him fully. He stammers when you rest your weight on his hips, the heat of your thrill burning through the layers of clothes to intoxicate him. “I haven’t ever seen you look at me once in class.”

“We have class together?”

“I sit behind you, Kenny. English class,” you chuckle, watching his lips purse together in embarrassment.

“I mostly watch you during lunch. I - I never said anything because… well, you know why,” he mumbles, once more unsure of where his hands are supposed to go, so he crosses them on his chest.

“I know,” you say, quiet as you think over your words. “You still could’ve come up to me, but… this works too.”

He breaks into a grin, giggling when you join him till you’re both coming down from a high - as the wide grins dissolve into contented smiles, you kiss again, moving slow and soft, softer than the girls you’d been with, sweeter and more innocent than any love you’ve known.

“It’s strange you know,” you mumble against his lips, interrupting yourself by kissing him again. “I usually go for degenerates, you know, people like me?” You kiss him again, deep and needy - “but God, I’ve never adored someone as much as I adore you.”

“Really?” He manages to get out amidst your attack, trying to get ahold of a rhythm you could kiss him to but you’re chaotic, switching from his lips to his jawline and pressing kisses up his neck.

“Yeah,” you rasp out, the beginnings of a hickey blooming red on his neck.

“Oh, I - oh, don’t leave a mark,” he says, but by the way he tugs at your hair and pulls you closer, you’re sure he really wants you to.

“Let me guess, strict parents?” You ask, pulling away to look at your work. He nods as though it’s something to be ashamed of, but you just sigh and smile, tracing his jawline with your fingers. “This is probably the only time we’ll be able to make lots of noise, though.”

“You mean this’ll happen more times?”

“If you want it to. I want it to,” you say, watching as he nods furiously.

“Yes, please,” he practically whimpers, pulling you in for another searing kiss, his new ferocity biting at your lips and making you moan. You’re grinding on him, hardly realizing your actions before you’re both far too worked up from the friction.

“Fuck, I need you,” you say, your hands going up his shirt to scratch at the soft skin there.

“I haven’t ever done this before,” he tells you, almost glaring at you when you mumble, ‘I knew it,’ but the glare is quickly cut short when you palm at him through his jeans.

“Do you want this? We don’t have to, you deserve better,” you stop for a moment, letting your hand grip at his hip while the other strokes soothingly through his hair.

“Better than a quick fuck in the back room of a 7-Eleven? Probably,” he says, a smile breaking across your face at his humorous tone. There’s a delight that runs through you when you hear him swear, but you try not to think about it. “But I don’t think either of us are gonna be able to sleep well with… this.”

“Fair enough,” you say with a shrug, pulling him back into a kiss.

With fumbling hands he works at your pants, managing to unbutton the ragged material and push them partially down your hips. You do the same for him before pulling his shirt off, kissing down what you find to be a surprisingly toned chest. For as much as he’s bullied he’s incredibly attractive and rather fit, and for a second you wonder why he’s bullied so much, before remembering a lot of people are pretty racist, and the whole ‘being gay’ thing was pretty obvious to everyone.

A long, saccharine moan is pulled from his lips, forcing you to think only of him. At the sound you practically gape, a sudden virility going straight to your cock, which is now straining painfully against your boxers. You can’t remember what it was you did that made him moan like that, so you do everything you think could work - it proves a lot for him to handle. Tiny gasps leave him as you trace your fingernails over his chest, biting tiny love marks into his ribs as your own chest occasionally rubs against his crotch.

“(Y/N), please, just friggin’ touch me,” he whines, his head thrown back and staring blankly at the ceiling, too focused on the sensations to care. You almost laugh at his desperation, but when he grabs your hair and practically grinds his dick into your face, you don’t. As demanding as it is you can’t help but acquiesce. You mouth at him through the fabric, and by the time he’s begging you again there’s a prominent wet spot on his underwear from where you sucked. When at last you begin to pull them down he looks at you, watching intently with flushed cheeks as he’s fully exposed to you.

Standing, you undress yourself, making a little show of it when you notice him staring. The moment you finish you’re back on him, just as needy as he is when your bare cock brushes up against his; his shoulders shake at the contact, and he falls back onto the floor, his eyes shut tight. To soothe the ache you kiss him, as tender as it was when you first kissed, and he finally lets out an anxious breath when you part.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmur, running your hand slowly down his chest till you reach his waist, your fingers just barely curling around him and pumping slower than what he deems should be possible.

“I just need you, anything, please,” he replies, breathy and still as wanting as ever.

“God, you really like begging for me, don’t you?” You tease, smirking when he just whines as you speed up your pace. With a kiss to his neck you whisper in his ear, “I love hearing you moan, though.”

“Then make me moan,” he says thoughtlessly, regretting his words when you smirk and move down his body. Regret is the last thing on his mind however, once you wrap your lips around the tip of his dick, sucking and practically drooling as you pump him.

“You taste wonderful,” you hum, attempting to take him deeper.

As experienced as you are it’s chiefly with girls (even if you aren’t as attracted to them, it’s just easier to pretend like you are), and this would technically be the first time you’ve sucked dick. It’s a lot harder than girls make it seem, you note to yourself, but try to take him deeper anyway. A long whine tumbles from his lips when you both realize you don’t have a very strong gag reflex and take him to the hilt, sucking and still roaming the expanse of his thin waist with your hands. He’s close, you can feel him twitch in your mouth, paired with the precum dripping off him and into you, but he yanks you away by your hair and pulls you up for another passionate kiss.

“What about you?” He asks, panting, and you almost laugh again - it’s so odd for someone to ask about you first.

“The sight of you like this is enough for me,” you assure him, laying wet kisses that have his eyes fluttering into the back of his head down his neck and onto his shoulder.

As you continue pumping him, focusing the majority of your energy on sucking a hickey into his skin, you hardly notice yourself grinding against him. In fact you only realize you’re doing it when his legs wrap around your hips, pulling you in till your cocks are slotted next to each other, both achingly hard. The intensity of it has both of you coming soon after, the imprint of your nails a semi-permanent fixture on Kenny’s hips, paired well with the blossoming hickey on his clavicle. He’s not the only one marked up by the end, though - angry red streaks line your back from his scratching, and you only notice when you collapse on your back beside him.

“Would you happen to have a rag?” He asks, both of you breaking into giggles soon after.

“I’ll go get paper towels,” you offer, reaching for your underwear before realizing you need to clean up before putting on clothes. Instead you peck his forehead, leaving him smiling as you leave the room.

Eventually you’re both cleaned up, clothes on, and the trench coat is covering the both of you, cuddled tight in the back room of 7-Eleven. When the story gets out, as all stories do at some point, there’s a lot of varying accounts on what happened in the night. The most popular, and probably your least favorite, was that you terrorized him the entire night, and though most people don’t believe it considering how close you and Kenny act, it’s still the most popular. Another theory was that you introduced him to drinking and you stayed up with him all night, drunk out of your minds; you don’t mind that story as much, but he does, so you try to tell people that isn’t what happened.

He does ask at one point if he’s allowed to talk about your relationship, and your answer is an ardent yes, which surprises him. You adore every part of him, and you find no shame in that, even if he thinks you should. Sure, you do get bullied a lot more, but it’s nothing brass knuckles don’t sort out quickly.

It’s an odd pairing, you acknowledge that. Punk doesn’t usually go well with sweetheart nerd, but it works surprisingly well, and for that you’re endlessly grateful. In-between classes you run by his locker even though you’re on separate sides of the school, always kissing him before each class. Your little expeditions leave you late to every class but English, and by the end of the year all your teachers hate you as usual with the exception of Mr. Davis.

“You concentrate a lot better these days. Did my talk help you out any?” He asks after class one summer day. Kenny is waiting outside the class, so you try to find a quick answer.

“Well… a little. I talked to Kenny at least,” you answer with a smile, bidding him a kinder good-bye than you usually give your teachers, saluting him as you close the door.

“Everything alright?” Kenny asks, walking shoulder to shoulder with you down the empty halls of the school.

“Everything’s perfect, sugar,” you answer, your arm hanging around his shoulders.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Distance and the Heart

You were convinced that you’ll be fine on your own while he’s gone. After all, all you wanted to do was sit at home and watch BTS videos all day. Instead, you go on a ‘date’, break someone’s nose and dig an even deeper ‘Oh-shit-I-think-I-might-like-my-guardian-demon’ hole for yourself.

You should never be let outside again.

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: slice of life, fluff, slow-burn, supernatural, comedy

word count: 8.1k (I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN)

Related works: Unorthodox | Genuine | 3AM Demon | The Grinch Who Stole New Year

A/N: well this got long....LOL UMM Hope you enjoy it! There’s more plot! And be aware of douchey guys! :DD

“You’re going where now?”

 “Think of it as a ‘performance evaluation’ meeting; you know, the kind you humans have with your boss to discuss how well or not you’ve been doing your job.” He replies back, adjusting the cuffs on his shirt as he stands before your full-length mirror. You try your hardest not to stare at him from your seat by your desk, in the middle of working on some assignments just to get ahead of yourself for the week, but you find your concentration wavering when your mind clearly found something way more interesting to study.

 Jimin is currently dressed in an all black ensemble; a black button down that’s tucked into his black slacks, allowing you the chance to see just how perfectly they hug his thighs and ahem ass. His silvery hair is immaculately coiffed as per usual and as he turns to shrug on the black blazer jacket, embroidered with intricate silver linings, you find yourself very distressed in your seat because your mind is telling you no but your body…. your body is saying hell yes.

 You whip your gaze away, embarrassed by your own thoughts and you hope that your guardian demon hasn’t noticed. Damn him for looking so good.

 “I’ll try to keep the visit short, but don’t be surprised if you don’t see me for a few days.” Jimin makes the final adjustments to his look, brushing away strands of hair that fall out of place over his forehead before turning to fix you with a stare.

 “Don’t worry, take all the time you need.” You encourage, hoping to feign indifference of his departure. It seems to not slip past him as Jimin’s plush lips curl into that damning smirk and to add more insult to injury, he languidly saunters over to you, instantly putting you on high alert.

 “Oh cherub, don’t you know I worry that you’ll probably die from missing me so much?” He singsongs and you blanch in response. “But just so you know, I’m only one call away; hell is completely toll free.”

 He removes his hand previously stuffed into his pocket to pat you on the head mockingly to which you swat at it before it even makes contact with a single strand of hair. You kiss your teeth, annoyed but he just throws his head back and laughs at you. You curse again because as much as you’re irritated, the tinkling sound never fails to make your heart race. 

 “Just go already; aren’t you going to be late or something?” You feebly mumble, turning back to stubbornly burn a hole into your laptop screen. You hear a muffled snort; some shuffling and you finally think you’ve got your deserved peace from this nuisance but then—

 “No kiss goodbye?” 

 On reflex, you hurl your seat cushion at his general direction, only for it to crash against your full length mirror noisily (you wince as little knick knacks nearby topples over from the force), the last remnants of his cackling fading into the air and the only thing you can do is huff out loudly, face blazing. But what you find the most frustrating thing however is that you’re not sure if it’s from anger or from the thought of imagining kissing said demon.

 -

 After about three hours, you shut off your laptop and place your pencil down to heave a big stretch with your arms high above your head. You wince at the kinks and pops of your joints but you’re satisfied with your finished work. Now you can relax and laze around all you want, maybe even catch up on a couple of RUN BTS episodes that you’ve sadly missed due to being so busy.

 “Hey! Y/N, wanna check out this cafe with me?”

 Or not…

 Jaehee’s voice calls out to your from her place by your door, phone in hand to showcase an instagram profile of said cafe she mentioned. You’re a bit hesitant to be honest, feeling like your energy is all spent from working on school stuff that all you wanted to do now was to essentially become a human rock. Jaehee picks up on it, having known you for a while but she must be desperate to get out because she persists.

 “C’mon Y/N! It’s still early and a Saturday plus I know you’re not working tomorrow either!”

 You’re caught in between the pros and cons of staying home or going out because although you’re definitely not opposed to going to a cute little cafe to maybe reward yourself with an iced coffee or latte, you definitely dread the thought of the process to getting yourself ready to look presentable to the world when you’re completely comfortable in your PJs. Your indecision shows and like a bloodhound, Jaehee hones in on it and with a last ditch effort of convincing you, she throws in some puppy-dog eyes and a pout.

 “Please? I really wanna check this place out with you.” 

 The loud sigh you let out is enough to have a smile break out widely on her face, needing no words to know that you’ve given in. With reluctance, you drag yourself up out of your chair to get changed.

 Guess BTS will have to wait a little longer.

 -

 Admittedly the cafe is pretty cute and this iced latte is great so you find the discomfort of being dragged out of the house disappearing. You’re having a good time, laughing at a work story Jaehee is telling you as you’re munching on some fancy looking pastries that should’ve been too good-looking to eat (but that sentiment quickly went away because Jaehee took too long taking photos of it from every angle).

 There’s a lull in conversation as Jaehee takes the time to type something out on her phone, you paying no mind as your attention is more on getting the last of this cheesecake in front you.

 “So Jason; you remember him right? He’s gonna stop by with a friend of his who just moved here to the city. Do you mind if they join us?”

 You’re caught like a deer in headlights, mouthful of delicious desserts. Half of you find that there’s no reason they shouldn’t be allowed but the other half is cringing at the thought of having to interact with people whom you know very little about (Jason has only been a recent thing in Jaehee’s life and from what little times you’ve hung out with him and Jaehee together, you still can’t quite figure out if he’s worth investing in before he’s replaced).

 Rationality wins out eventually, finding yourself no real good reason to say no so you bite the bullet. “Sure, I guess?"

 When you’re halfway through your latte, Jaehee’s phone vibrates and she picks up.

 “Hello?…. Oh you’re here? We’re just inside, come in!” She hangs up promptly with a smile and before you can ask or wonder more on it, the door opens and in walks two guys. You easily recognize one of them as being the one that Jaehee took to the Christmas party as a date so by process of elimination, the other is the friend from out of town.

 He’s quite plain looking; a mop of dark hair and with no striking feature catching your eye other than the fact that he seems quite tall and lanky (but the same can be said about everyone you basically meet). The duo approaches just as Jaehee waves them over, her date going in for a hug to which your friend reciprocates while his friend simply smiles politely on the side.

 “Jason! Glad you could make it, and you must be Mike right?”

 Mike smiles widely and offers a handshake for her, to which Jaehee takes naturally.

 “Yeah, nice to finally meet you.”

 “And this is my friend and roommate Y/N.”

 You smile, taking Mike’s outstretched hand to give a shake as well as giving a simple greeting. Conversations are taken over by Jaehee for a bit before you all collectively decide to leave and walk along the street where the cafe is located. The weather is nice, the air slightly crisp but the real cold was more of something to worry about once the sun goes down.

 You file out of the shop and begin your walk, Jaehee and Jason naturally pairing up to chat, which left you with Mike trailing after them from behind. Oh joy….

 Your heart is beating a little too hard in your chest for your liking, your small bouts of social anxiety creeping in at now being put in a position to make small talk with a total stranger, a skill you haven’t quite got the hang of in all of your twenty-some odd years of being alive.

 “This seems like a really nice place to hang out with your friends huh?” Luckily, Mike’s the first to strike up conversations with you. Pressure relieved, you plaster on a smile.

 “Yeah, most of the cafes and popular eating spots are here….” 

 And that’s pretty much all you get out. You’re starting to get sweaty.

 “What would you recommend here?” Mike persists, seemingly not bothered by what you feel is a conversation struggling to continue every other sentence. He still has a smile on his face which makes his otherwise ordinary features appear more attractive, and coupled by his earnestness to keep talking to you, the friendliness and outgoing characteristics of him becomes more apparent. You find yourself impressed by his efforts of keeping the awkwardness at bay.

 “Uh, I’ve only tried a few places. So far pretty good in my opinion.” 

 “So the cafe today was good then? Because what you were eating back there looks really delicious.”

 “Yeah, I guess. The cheesecake is all right.” 

 It pretty much continues with Mike obviously being the more animated out of the two you as he pretty much chats enough for you both. You find out he’s moved here to attend the local university, the same one Jason goes to and that’s how they became friends and that he’s only been here for a little over two weeks. You nod along, offering comments here and there and the last remains of heart palpitations are thankfully gone.

 “What’s Tsujiro?” Mike suddenly asks as his gaze wanders to a dessert place you’re coming up on. You pause, can’t help but think how the shop name as well known as Tsujiro could slip under someone’s radar at this point. However, you push it aside because who are you judge; maybe he came from a smaller city or town?

 “Oh, uh, it’s a Japanese dessert place; they mainly sell soft serve green tea ice cream in like, tall cups or small ones with other toppings and stuff.” 

 “Oh wow, I might actually want to try one out. Is it good?” He turns to you, bright eyed and you give a shrug and a wry smile.

 “It’s all right.” You say, voice cracking near the end from being unsure. Sure you liked it, but honestly found it too pricey for your taste. 

 You don’t tell Mike that though (who are you to stop him from wanting to try it out; who knows, maybe he’ll like it).

 It seems good enough for him because he makes a beeline into the shop and you call out to Jaehee and Jason to wait up. No sooner, Mike comes out and everyone comments on his chosen concoction from the store; a tall cup of what appears to be green tea smoothie, topped with more green soft serve, a cube of cheesecake (?), sprinkled with mochi and other sweet looking treats. It’s pretty to look at, but the price he tells you were anything but (you’re not surprised).

 Your group walks around a bit more until spontaneously deciding the grab dinner once Mike finishes up with his dessert (“not as good as it looked,” he chuckles disappointingly).

 The restaurant you decide to eat at however was thankfully. You all make good talk with one another, Jaehee, being the ever better socialite than you, does a good job at covering for you both (you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the alcohol you’ve all ordered with your meal). You feel like you’ve filled your quota of talks and keeping up with pleasantries in the face of strangers, though that doesn’t stop Mike from pulling you into conversations every now and then. You throw in a comment or two to suffice.

 Dinner wraps up nicely, the bill is split and you all get ready to leave: Jason with Mike and Jaehee with you. You think you’re in the clear, the slight alcohol enhancing the excited buzz you’re feeling about heading home until Mike calls out to you suddenly at what should’ve been the final exchanges of goodbyes.

 “Hey Y/N, is it okay if I have your number? Would be cool to see you again.”

 You blink, unsure of how to respond. You seldom give your number out to people you’ve only just met, unless the circumstances are called for (i.e. business related, appointment based, or if it’s long overdue if you keep seeing the person). Snobby or uptight aren’t words you would describe yourself with this, but perhaps a combination of pessimistic and realistic is more appropriate; you’ve long made peace with the fact that at this stage of your life, the chances of acquiring any more life-long friends is zero to none. Nine times out of ten, this will be just another number you’ll have to clear out.

 At the nudge of Jaehee’s shoulder, you’re knocked out of your stupor and the realization that you had probably been vacantly staring at him settles as an embarrassed blush on your cheeks. 

 “O-Oh, uh, you have iMessenger? That’s better to get in touch with me.” You awkwardly reach for your phone to pull up the app and Mike laughs good-naturedly, nodding. You exchange contacts and finally, with a breath of relief, you part ways. Not a moment sooner when you had turned the block to the direction of your house did Jaehee pounce on you.

 “So? What do you think of him?” She asks, trying to be on the sly with things but it’s obvious how eager she is to hear.

 “Think of who?”

 “Mike! Jason’s friend.” 

 “What about him?” You’re not seeing the significance of the question nor the person in question.

 “You know… do you think he's nice? Cool? …. Cute?”

 You nearly give yourself whiplash at Jaehee’s choice of questions, turning your gaze onto her expectant ones. You feel your face contort itself into a sort of half grimace and look of incredulity.

 “I only just met him? Like he’s nice, I guess…. Really friendly to people he just met— I don’t know.”

 Jaehee seems to deflate at your lukewarm response. “Really? That’s it?”

 “…. Yeah? Why?”

 She sighs, hand tugging to link arms with you. “Never mind.” 

 The rest of the walk home you’re confused but you’re too tired to really think too much on it at this point. So much so that once you’re in the house, your night routine all blurs together and you immediately fall asleep as soon as your head touches pillow.

 The next morning, you wake up with a groan, stretching your limbs but not quite ready to get up out of your cocoon of blankets just yet. You settle by grabbing your phone to mindlessly scroll through your social media, as one does when they’re intent to make Sunday their designated lazy day. You’re surprised to see a notification for your iMessenger, a face you’re not used to seeing. It takes a moment for it to register as the guy you met yesterday, Mike.

 “Did you two get home alright?” was his written message in the chat box, sent at a time you knew you’d been passed out in the sleep. You do him the courtesy to text back with an apology on the delayed response and that yes, you and Jaehee did make it home safely.

 You go on to open up your other apps, scrolling through your feed, which helps you wake yourself up, more often than not finding BTS content related things. You stop on a video clip compilation of Jimin laughing till he disappears out of frame and it makes you grin. How can someone so cute exist? You hit the ‘like’ button and as you proceed to scroll more, your thoughts shift to the next thing related to said idol.

 Speaking of, you wonder if your demon guardian Jimin-lookalike is back.

 You swivel your head as best you could but find not so much as whiff of the usual lavender and vanilla scent that never fails to follow him.

 Huh….

 You get out of bed eventually, making your way to the kitchen to fix yourself breakfast and find that the house is…uncharacteristically quiet.

 No, it’s always been this quiet. You correct yourself, because it’s true…or was true. Before….

 You huff a sigh, exasperated. Get your thoughts straight girl.

 You continue with your day, making up for the lazing around you missed. Every once in a while, your phone pings with a notification; another sent message by Mike. The conversation was nothing of interest, just more casual talks of what you’re doing and going off on that before the topic is changed, most often by Mike once you’ve ran out of things to say.

 It goes on like that for a couple more days. He messages first always, and you almost dutifully answer back out of courtesy. He truly does seem like a nice guy, polite and easy-going but as much as your conversations with him were good (at a least you think? There were times you’ve haven’t answered for days because you were being swamped with work and school but that still doesn’t deter him), they were still very surface level; not having gone past being ‘good acquaintances’…or more like ‘one-sided good acquaintances’ because you think you know more about him than he does you.

 However, as the days drag on, you find your interest in Mike fading altogether as more other pressing thoughts start to occupy your mind, creeping in and growing like mold.

 Where is your guardian demon?

 Jimin did say the meeting might take more than a few days but it’s almost been more than a week since he’d left. Do meetings in hell usually take this long? More so, why hasn’t the bastard texted you at all? He’s supposed to be your guardian and right now he’s technically neglecting his end of the contract.

 Wait, what are you saying?  

 You flail your limbs in frustration, lying in bed in the middle of the night. You had told yourself that you were going to be a decent human being and go to sleep at normal people time because you’re absolutely beat from the week’s work but instead of drifting off like you thought you would, you ended up reflecting back on the events and had come full circle to the one being who should’ve been your least concerned. 

 Even when he’s not physically there, he still manages to wiggle his way into your thoughts. Unbelievable.

 You drift off eventually, stubbornly muting any train of thoughts that somehow always seem to lead back to him. You wake up a little on the groggy side, as if you haven’t slept at all but it’s the weekend again so you’re not bothered in rushing to get up. Grabbing your phone, you tap it awake to find a message notification.

 Your heart races for a quick second before impassively dropping once your foggy mind has registered the name; it’s Mike. No devil…or demon to be spoken of here. The message preview looks like a good morning text and the beginnings of asking what are you up to and you don’t quite make it that far before brushing it away from the screen; you’ll answer later.

 You mosey along with your day contently, taking time to eating breakfast then getting lost on Youtube (to which you, without fail, ended up watching a bunch of BTS related videos from Vlives to Run episodes to Bangtan Bombs) and even being productive like getting ahead of your studies (though you literally spent a little under fifteen minutes on it but hey, progress is progress).

 It’s around late evening when Jaehee comes knocking on your door, phone in hand once again and a yet another proposition.

 “Hey, wanna head out for dinner with me, Jason and Mike tonight?”

 You blink back at her from your nest of pillows and blankets much like an owl, not giving her an immediate response. She stares right back at you and it would seem like you two were having a silent conversation but you have a sneaking feeling that Jaehee can already see your brain working through all the pros and cons of saying yes or no like you’re Doctor Strange seeing all the possible alternative universes in which to defeat Thanos.

 “Where to exactly?” You ask after a while with slight trepidation.

 “That new Korean BBQ place that just opened up.”

 Damn.

 She’s got you beat. You’ve been eyeing that place for a while now but just never had the time or occasion to go. Not only was it the first branch to finally open here from being exclusively abroad for so long, but the restaurant is only a few blocks down the street from where you and Jaehee live; a true miracle because you had always figured such a popular restaurant would be located more towards downtown (which meant having to commute via subway, ugh).

 And God must’ve cursed you with a gluttonous vice because your stomach rumbles like it had a say in whether you’re going or not, and by the looks of it, you most certainly are.

 So with a defeated sigh, and knowing that Jaehee most likely heard your traitorous stomach even from your doorway, you agree. 

 The two of you meet up with your companions at the restaurant since they were coming from the downtown area so this way it would be more convenient. Jaehee greets the boys enthusiastically, whereas you wave casually, more subdued.

 “Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while since we saw each other.” Mike smiles as he comes up to you. 

 “Uh, yeah it has huh?” You shift a little in place, but you hurriedly follow after Jaehee and Jason who’s already stepped into the restaurant to grab a table. Jason of course, slides in on the bench side with Jaehee…. Which leaves you and Mike on the chairs across. You inwardly sigh out in exasperation. You just want to get through dinner eating the most Korean BBQ you can and with as little small talk as possible.

 To your relief, it wasn’t difficult to do once the food starts rolling out and the grill starts sizzling. For the most part, it works because food is always a great distraction but then the drinks starts pouring and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t totally in love with grapefruit flavoured soju now. Luckily, most conversations stay group oriented and Jaehee takes the lead in most of them, so you bounce off of her topics to make it easier for you to not get stuck conversing with just Mike. 

 As the eating comes to an end and drinks only remain however, you’re left with very little to defend yourself with.

 “So did you see the new Venom movie?” Mike asks you with what you could assume was a playful nudge but all it does is nearly make you slosh your drink. You try not to let the annoyance show on your face as you strain to smile back. 

 “Ah, yeah I did. I watched it online.” You say off-handedly before downing your drink, the sweetness of grapefruit hiding the usual rubbing alcohol burn of the soju, making it far too easy to swallow. You muse absently about how dangerous that can be. 

 “What? Why didn’t you see it in theatres? It was a great movie!”

 It wasn’t that great. But it wasn’t that bad either. You think to yourself but you’re not in the mood to having an extensive discussion with him, head beginning to slightly throb, so you settle to just shrug.

 “I didn’t feel like it. Also, didn’t really have the time.” 

 “Hey, then when we get the chance, maybe we should go see one together.” Mike suggests. You’re about to give a reply that would underlie a soft let down or at least to not get his hopes up when Jaehee exclaims rather excitedly at the suggestion.

 “Oh my god yeah! We should! It’s been so long since I’ve actually went to see a movie in theatres.” 

 “I swear we went to one not too long ago…” Jason comments, trailing off as his thinks back on it.

 “That was in summer, and now it’s winter.” Jaehee turns back to you and Mike in front of her, her excitement not seeming to die down anytime soon as she blurts out a little too loudly. “It can be like a double date!”

 You nearly choke on the soju you’ve been sipping, covering it up hastily with the loud clearing of your throat and decidedly placing the glass down to reach for the cup of cold water instead. 

 “Woah you okay?” You feel Mike’s hand on your shoulder; the sudden contact makes your arm flinch in surprise. You hurriedly gulp down the water, letting the coolness wash over the rough patch in your throat before mustering up a stiff smile in assurance.

 “Y-Yeah, no, I’m fine! Just…. went down the wrong pipe is all.” Your voice comes out hoarse and you cough again to clear it, chuckling nervously. Jaehee laughs as if you just hadn’t nearly choked to death, though she refills your cup of water generously.

 “You need to slow down with that soju. Is it really that good?”

 “Yeah!” You jump on the chance to direct your attention elsewhere, “Really good! I like, almost finished this bottle by myself!” You forcefully laugh; feel your cheeks start to heat up, whether from said alcohol or embarrassment. You start to wonder belatedly if you should check with a mirror to see if you’ve gone as red as you usually do when drinking (boy would that be even more embarrassing!).

 “You know what, I need to go to the washroom. Be right back!” You hurriedly excuse yourself, the chair wobbling as you get up with a stumble.

 “Oh! I’ll come with you!” Jaehee volunteers as she jumps up from her seat, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the ladies’ room. After a quick trip of emptying your bladder, you finally get a look at your reflection as you wash your hands. You’re relieved to find that you’re not completely red, just the slightest shade of pink peeking through your foundation. You note with satisfaction of how high coverage it is.

 “Hey, Y/N!” Jaehee calls cheerfully to you as she steps out of her cubicle with a flush. She comes to stand next to you, bumping your hips before lathering her hands with soap and water.

 “What?” You ask more concentrated in your attempts at patting away some of the oiliness on your nose and chin.

 “I think Mike is really into you.” Jaehee teases, a sneaky smile sent your way but you’re not as amused by the idea as she is. You wrinkle your nose, face scrunching in the mirror in front of you.

 “Um, what makes you so sure about that?”

 “Don’t tell him I told you, but Mike messaged me before we headed out tonight. He said you and him have been hitting it off pretty well.” 

 You furrow your eyebrows because that’s not how you see it and you express that much. Jaehee gives you a look that says she thinks otherwise.

 “The guy’s just super nervous around you. He really wants to get to know you better. Hell, if I wasn’t seeing Jason, I would go for him.” You can see her efforts in trying to get you to sympathize and though you don’t have much to argue against Mike because he really does seem like a nice guy and hasn’t done anything wrong, you don’t feel…. a connection. At all.

 “I mean he’s nice…. I guess? And like we talk, but I just don’t really feel anything? I don’t know….” You reply half mumbling distractedly, not really knowing how to explain but also finding that you don’t really care.

 “Is it because of that other guy who saved you?”

 You swear the speed in which you turn to Jaehee nearly knocks you off your own feet, heart thudding loudly against your ribcage that you have no time to discern if it’s from the alcohol or the thought of your Jimin impostor guardian demon.

 “W-What? Um, no! He’s—We’re not— I mean there’s nothing between us!” You get out, voice raising a little too high that it startles some other ladies who walked in. You shrink back as Jaehee lets out cackles and gives a hearty smack to your back, jerking you forward from the force. She startles you again by abruptly stopping midway to dramatically gasp, eyes wide and gleaming in a way that makes you nervous because inebriated Jaehee is often times too brash and too impulsive for her own good.

 “What if you just…. talk to him?” 

 “Who? Ji—?“ You almost make the mistake of saying his name aloud but you had lit Jaehee to cover for you, even if it was unintentional. 

 “Mike! You need to talk to him…alone.” She cuts you off, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

 “I— I don’t get it…?” 

 “You need to get a feel for him in person! And this is only the second time you’ve met and it’s always with me and Jason! No wonder you’re not connecting properly!” 

 “H-Huh?” You’re slow on the follow up because you thought you were still talking about Jimin?

 “I’ll tell you what!” Jaehee laser focuses on you and instinctively, your shoulder hunches up to brace for impact. “Why don’t I leave with Jason so we could give you some alone time?”

 You blink in disbelief and Jaehee pouts at your lack in response. 

 “C’mon, Y/N! How about just…thirty minutes? Yeah, thirty minutes! If you’re not feeling him even then…. then you can leave and I’ll never speak of it again."

 You think that’s about as good as it’s going to get with Jaehee and your mind processes and contemplates it as well. It’s not ideal but you don’t see any harm in chatting a guy one on one for thirty minutes, if it means you could say at least you tried and it’ll put this entire thing to rest once and for all.

 “Okay, fine.” You sigh out with reluctance. “Thirty minutes but that’s it.”

 Jaehee squeals and nods obviously pleased and with one last fluff to her hair, she pulls you out of the washroom and back to your table. Jason and Mike are unsurprisingly chatting it up and having a great time with each other (so much so that you think ruefully that maybe they should be left alone). But at yours and Jaehee’s approach, their attention is drawn, both shooting smiles.

 “Oh you’re finally back.” Jason remarks, “We got another bottle of grapefruit soju since it’s pretty good.” He picks up the green bottle to give it a shake. Jaehee however, makes to pull him up and out of his seat. He follows obediently, although a bit puzzled.

 “Oh sorry, I just remembered I have something to give you Jason so we need to get going.” Jaehee smiles blindingly, cheeks puffing up and eyes creasing as she continues to tug at Jason. “But hey, how about Mike and Y/N finish the bottle? We’ll get the bill this time, our treat! So you just take your time okay?"

 “Oh, uh, sure? If that’s okay?” Mike shifts his eyes to you as you awkwardly shuffle over to make way for the other couple. Your eyes dart to him, a nervous laugh bubbling past your lips as you rub your neck.

 “Y-Yeah, thanks Jaehee…Jason... No worries... I like grapefruit soju….”

 “Great! Then we’ll get going, it was nice seeing you again Mike! Bye Y/N, text me!” And before you know it, Jaehee zips off with Jason in tow and mentally you brace yourself; no doubt that this will probably be the longest thirty minutes of your life.

 Okay, Y/N relax. Just have a casual talk with this guy for thirty minutes and then you can leave and go to sleep. It’s not that deep. You think to yourself as you slide into the bench seat across from Mike who cracks open the bottle and graciously fill your glass for you. You take it with a smile and as he raises his up for you to clink against, you do so before downing it without hesitation, the drink still chilled enough that it seems to cool your nerves.

 Your conversations with Mike were as you had predicted; nothing of interest to note. You talked movies; about the food you just ate which lead to food preferences to other interests that you don’t go too in depth with (at least on your behalf, Mike doesn’t seem shy on talking about how he’s really into cars). 

 Eventually, you make the conscious decision of stopping yourself from taking anymore shots of soju because you realized by the second and a half glass, you’re starting to faintly feel the creeping affects of the alcohol, a light misting of inebriation blanketing your mind causing you to find it difficult to recall how much time has passed. So when Mike had offered to refill your glass, you politely decline. The bottle was still a little more than halfway done, and though Mike attempts to get you to help him out, you were steadfast in sobering up by the time you get to leave.

 Besides, the alcohol is starting to mess with your sense of judgment in which you can actually feel the deterioration of a rather vital thing to your conscious; a filter.

 Which brings you to eyeing your phone surreptitiously from under the table, what should’ve been just a peek to read Jaehee’s text reminding you to call her if you needed anything, turned into a rapidly growing curiosity of ‘what-ifs’ that involve a certain demon.

 What if you just…talk to him?

 You’re hearing Jaehee’s words echo in your head, though you swear somewhere in the back of your mind they’re way out of context. But the point of it remains; what would happen if you were to send a text to him? Would he be annoyed? Would he text back? Hell, you don’t even know if he’s still alive! What if his boss was unsatisfied with his work and just straight up burned him to a crisp with the infernal flames of hell?! Oh my god! Why haven’t you thought of that before?! Now it’s been over a week since you’ve last heard of him you’re so stupid—!

 “Hey, Y/N!” 

 “…Huh? Oh? Sorry did you say something?”

 Mike, who stares at you with a rather glazed look, pulls you from irrationally making one direct call to hell. A quick glance at the soju bottle tells you he’s made good work on it, coming down to the last glassful. A little pink in the face but he still looks way better than you would if you'd down that much soju. 

 “I was askin’ if you had a boyfriend.”

 Oh.

 “Um…’s been a while; got too busy with school and work.” 

 “So…do I have a chance with you?”

 …. HUH?

 You freeze, doing a double take. “W-What?”

 “You know, a chance to be with you…"

 Okay so you didn’t hear wrong. That still doesn’t mean you know how to respond to that appropriately. You didn’t want to hurt him because you’re sure it’s liquid courage that’s making him ask this, also the fact that he hasn’t done anything to upset you.

 “Aha…whoa uh,” You flounder through a nervous laugh because you’d rather get some sort of response out instead of remain silent. “I uh, I…dunno…?” 

 “What’s not to know?” He asks rather boldly and you’re completely taken aback. “I thought we had somethin’ goin’ on.” 

 “H-Hey, I think you’re a nice guy, but I don’t think I'm really looking for a relationship right now. I’m sorry if I lead you on somehow.” 

 “So would you ever love me?”

 Now you’re speechless, can’t really believe just how fast things have snowballed that it almost has your mind sobering up in an instant. You’ve tried your best to let him down gently but it’s like it’s not getting through to him. Perhaps you should take it as a sign as your cue to leave.

 “Uhh…I think I should go. You should go too! It’s…late. It’s been nice.” You slide out from the other side, clutching at your purse and phone. Your heart’s pounding in your chest again and you can feel it pulsing in your ear too. You fumble with shaky fingers to type in your phone’s lock code, getting it wrong twice before getting it right to tap on Jaehee’s number. You press the phone close to your ear, letting the dial tone ring as your feet take you out of the restaurant and onto the streets. The chilly night air does wonders in further clearing your mind but it also makes you painfully aware of how hot your face still feels.

 “Hey Y/N! How’s the date going?” Jaehee’s cheery voice comes through after the third ring. 

 “H-Hey Jaehee! Uh..um…I wouldn’t say well…? He might have had too much to drink so he sorta—“ You’re speed walking in the direction of your home, completely tunnel visioning so you fail to notice a pair of heavy footsteps fast approaching you from behind. A force almost knocks you over; you stumble forward in a mess of legs, fighting to stay upright the same time you feel your phone being ripped out of your grasp.

 “Jaehee? Is that you? Y-Yeah everythin’s okay! I’m okay! Y/N’s takin’ me home now, drank too much haha! She’s just lettin’ ya know! Yeah, yeah no don’t worry! Okay bye!” 

 By the time you’ve righted yourself, Mike’s hung up on Jaehee with the bullshit he’s spewed. You’re absolutely livid when you turn on him with a glare so piercing you’d think Jimin would be proud.

 “What's wrong with you?!” You yell out, trying to snatch your phone back but Mike who’s significantly taller than you, easily keeps it at bay with minimal effort. It only makes you fly more into a blinding rage.

 “W-Wait! Let’s head back to my place and chill?”

 “Like hell I would! Give me back my phone!” 

 “At least walk with me to the subway?” 

 You’re heaving with effort, energy exerted from your fail attempts at getting your phone and your pause to catch your breath must’ve made him think you were going to agree to his request because he’s looking at you hopefully. You wanted to laugh in his face but you’d rather face the devil himself at this point than be with this guy for another minute.

 “I’ll call you an Uber! Now give me my phone!” You seethe.

 “C’mon Y/N, don’t be like that. I’ve been nice to you so can you at least—“

 You swear steam is coming out of your ears at this point, your hands shaking at the audacity and just when you’ve locked in your choice to rugby tackle him with all your body mass, another voice cuts through the both of you.

 “I do believe the young lady said no.” His drawl is a bone-chilling calm that you could almost feel the temperature drop even further by it. 

 Under the flickering street lamp’s light, you catch a wisp of black smoke; the tendrils trail before fading out of sight over Mike’s shoulder. You follow it up until you reach Mike’s hand — the one holding your phone — where you see extra digits wrapped firmly around his wrist, nails digging into the skin. Mike’s head whips behind him alarmed, to reveal the shockingly beautiful face you’ve come to know.

 Jimin stands unperturbed behind Mike who visibly struggles against his hold, even when Jimin is at least a good inch shorter than him. His face an inscrutable mask and eyes swirling a deep garnet, the only thing betraying his utter displeasure.

 “H-Hey what the fuck man! Who are—ARGH!!” Mike’s exclamations turns into a howl of pain at the sounds of a crack, hand dropping your phone to which Jimin smoothly catches and lets him crumple to the ground to cradle his wrist. You step back to avoid being in his line of falling, mouth gaping and trying to catch up with what just happened. So far, you’ve only registered that Jimin is here.

 “Darling you’ll catch flies if you keep that up.” Jimin tuts, stepping over Mike’s curled up body. He takes your hand and places your phone in it and you’re in such disbelief that you nearly drop it. He still looks immaculate as ever, dressed in an all black except this time he’s wearing a cozy looking turtleneck under a leather jacket and fitted jeans. His hair is styled in the usual way it is — coiffed with a few strands hanging over his forehead with such volume that it made you envious— but you’re shocked to see that it was no longer plain silver; there’s a blueish tint to it now. The sight mesmerizes you.

 Jimin goes to say something teasing, you just know it as you see the upturn corner of his mouth but before he can get it out, a shuffling and a grunt from behind makes his face drop back into the frighteningly stony mask again, plush lips drawn into a line. You see Mike stumble to his feet, still clutching at his wrist while trying to burn a hole into the back of Jimin’s head. 

 It was then that you realize that Mike, a human much like yourself, is staring directly at Jimin and now that you think about it, he had also addressed Jimin when he first appeared just as he does now.

 “W-Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Mike growls. Jimin merely scoffs; you don’t need to see his face to know he’s probably rolled his eyes. But instead of addressing the angry man, Jimin slaps on a benevolent smile your way and begins to usher you.

 “Come darling, you must be cold standing out here and we really ought to get—“ He cuts himself off by reaching up and catching a flying fist aimed at him. You gasp out in shock at the speed and the suddenness of Mike actually having the balls to try to throw a punch. Eyes wide, you look up to gauge Jimin’s reaction to find that yes, he looks pissed; jaw clenched and eyes burning with hellfire itself.

 You let out a surprise yelp as Jimin clamps down on Mike’s fist and with little effort, flips him and begins to drag him off, heading to an alley concealed by shadows. You scurry after him after snapping out of your initial shock, panicked and stuttering out words incoherently because you are not going to have another dead body on your conscious, at least not someone who you actually knew no matter how douche-y he turned out to be.

 “I’ll break your other wrist, and then your legs, and then your neck. And if you want a tour of hell, come back three more times.” You hear Jimin spit out between gritted teeth, but you highly doubt it got through to Mike who’s too busy writhing, screaming and cursing from the ground.

 “Jimin! Wait, I said no killing! Jimin! Hey, you jerk! Listen to me!” You had to yell over Mike’s voice, wondering how it is that you guys haven’t woken up the whole neighbourhood yet as you push against Jimin’s very firm chest to get him to halt in his tracks.

 “Sweetie, not now. I need to enact the Lord’s good graces and teach this petulant human some manners.” 

 “That does not make any sense! And—SHUT UP!” The incessant yelling from Mike finally gets to you, having heard enough of his voice for the night as you impulsively deliver an adrenaline filled kick to his face. He knocks out immediately.

Jimin drops his hold on Mike’s fist with an unceremonious thump, bewildered. “Way to kill steal from me, pumpkin.”

 You gasp loudly, nerves shaken from what you just did and what Jimin has just told you as a new wave of rising panic sets in. “O-Oh my god did I actually kill him?! Is he dead?! I didn’t mean—!”

 Your demon guardian throws his head back, a boisterous laughter escaping him as he folds in on himself. You jump back startled and could only stare on in silent horror because of course he would find this funny and would be of no help!

 “J-Jimin! This isn’t funny! What are we gonna do now?!” 

 “Relax darling…” He finally wheezes out, straightening himself up while wiping the corner of his eyes. “He’s not dead, unfortunately; just K.O’ed by a swift kick to the face. Probably broke his nose though so good job on that.” 

 You gape like a fish out of water and all he does is stare back at you with the lingering traces of a fond smile that has your traitor of a heart skipping a beat. Damn him!

 “You—!” You start, huffing and puffing and though words escape you, your fists don’t as you land a hit on his chest. He takes it with little resistant, relenting himself as you let out your pent up frustrations. “You stupid jerk and your pretty stolen face! Just showing up like you own the place without even saying anything to me for more than a week! And then let some other stupid jerk try to get a jump on me! Some guardian demon you are! I could’ve just handled it all myself!” 

 You tire yourself out by the time you’re done your tirade, strength leaving your arms as they slap uselessly against the leather of his jacket until you stop altogether. Jimin’s quiet, the quietest you think he’s ever been. You refuse to make eye contact with him, staring determinedly down on his shiny black loafers but instead of some snarky comment about owing him for using him as a punching bag, you hear a shuffle of movement and then something heavy drapes over your shoulder, a waft of all too familiar vanilla lavender smell easing whatever remaining tension left in your body.

 Your gaze automatically whips up to his. He busies himself securing the jacket to you before his eyes wander to meet yours; the soft brown colour that stares back comforts you.

 “You’ve had a rough night darling, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there. So I’ll forgive you for beating up my Saint Laurent jacket and we’ll call it even?” 

 For a moment, you thought of scowling him and his love for name brand things but all you really want to do now is go home and fall asleep, so you nod softly, giving in. Jimin lets out a quiet chuff of amusement, hand coming up to stroke your hair with a gentleness that has your heart aching with the disgruntlement that you do miss having him by your side.

 “Y/N!” A shout freezes you up like cold water being dumped over your head as you whip towards the source of the call. To your astonishment, you see a familiar face running towards you, her figure unmistakable and as she draws nearer, you can see clearly who it is.

 It’s Jaehee.

 She slows to a stop, panting heavily from how hard she must’ve ran, shoulders slumped as she braces herself on her knees but even then she’s still trying to muster out words in between gasps of breath. “You called and….suddenly Mike was on the phone! Saying how he drank too much? That you were taking him home! And I just…I had such a bad feeling I had to… Are you okay?!”

 Jaehee makes to lunge at you but stops midway as she finally notices your frozen, wide eyed appearance and you see with pinpoint accuracy the way her eyes trail from your face to your shoulders to the extra hand on your shoulder all the way up to Jimin who is quite at a loss for words as well. 

 You watch with baited breath as she squints up at him with a gaze so fixated on analyzing him, a myriad of emotions flitting across her own face before she utters.

 “Have I…seen you from somewhere?”

[emulatingrizal-blog]

The Worth of a Sacrifice

2014 - 05880 | MHG

A bright flash. A loud bang. An endless cry of pain.

“No!”

Red immediately filled my vision as I regained my consciousness. Slowly, I realized that the sun was shining in my eyes as I blinked them open. Sunlight was streaming through the open window beside my bed, warming up the room from the cold of last night. For some reason, my heart was beating loud. Not fast, but loud, the slow thump thump of every heartbeat banging against my chest as if it were ensuring me that I was alive and real.

I then recalled the image, or rather the feeling, that I woke up to. It was pain and fear. I couldn’t quite grasp why I felt that. It must’ve all been a bad dream, one I couldn’t fully recall thankfully. I was still reeling from my dream when the clanging of a church bell resounded from far away. As if on cue, my mother entered the room.

“Oh good, you’re awake, hija. Get dressed and come down, it’s almost 9 am.”

I quickly looked at the clock above her head. 7:30 am. “Yes Mama.”

Mama left the room with smile. Being Isabela Constantino, the only daughter and child of San Diego Governor Ricardo Constantino, had its perks and downfalls. I quickly dressed and went to eat breakfast. Mama and I were going to mass together today. She was dressed simply in a simple white blouse with beige slacks, ever the classy woman she is. I wore a simple blue dress, my favorite Sunday dress, along with the necklace that Carlos gave me.

I can never forget that day, a beautiful day with the most perfect weather. Carlos Montemayor was the most perfect man in all ways: handsome, charming, affluent, caring, and secure. Being the son of Santa Clara Governor Matteo Montemayor definitely had a bearing, but I knew that he was more than this image that he has to keep up. So the day he went down on one knee and held up an open box with this necklace in it as he asked me to marry him, I said yes. Since then, everything has been smooth sailing. We plan to marry before election season starts next year. Following in the footsteps of his father is no easy feat. I understand him, though, because I do love him and I knew that he would be what was best for Santa Clara.

Mama and I left for Sunday mass as soon as the bells sounded again, signifying the end of the earlier celebration. With the church just a short walk away from home, Mama and I went to the streets with no need to go there by car, much to my dismay. I usually wouldn’t mind, but the walk to the church was something I avoided as much as possible because of everything I see. Too many families on the streets, too many people struggling, too many children starving. We could pass by there with no problem because of our security team and they never try anything every time we passed because they knew who we were.

It just wasn’t right. For some reason, Papa always turned down my offers of wanting to help them by establishing various programs and neighborhoods. I have no idea why Papa seemed like he didn’t care despite the times I have seen him sneaking to this place and offering a rare helping hand. He was flanked by guards but I have seen him giving these people food in secret. Why does he keep denying it?

We finally reached the church just as the mass was about to begin. As the opening hymn started, I could feel an air of unease around me, or was it just me. I looked over at Mama and she looked fine. As she held my hand during the “Ama Namin,” her grip was tight, firm, as if she was telling me something. I looked over at her once more and saw her eyes tightly shut. After communion, she knelt beside me and I noticed once again the tension around her as she hunched over her tightly clasped arms, her shoulders tight.

Once mass was over, Mama looked at me with a smile. I knew she was very religious, always turning to the Lord for guidance in almost everything. I may not have caught on to that behavior, but I understood her nonetheless.

“Are you okay, Bela?” Mama asked with a sudden worried expression on her face. “You look troubled, hija. Is anything bothering you?” I then realized my face was contorted into a similar expression but more anxious than worried.

“Oh. Nothing, Mama. I just feel a bit tired, but I’m fine,” I told her with an equally tired smile. I did sleep a little late last night since I was still chatting with Carlos at 1 am.

I suddenly heard a woman’s startled cry resounding the church plaza. I quickly searched the crowd to find the source. By the gate, I could see a group of men and teenagers surrounding a woman. I could see her eyes from a distance, scared and helpless like a lost child. As if they had a mind of their own, my feet started moving towards the girl and the group of males. I realized that I was angry and frustrated. After seeing the scenes this morning, seeing another scene of injustice was enough to flare this unsettling feeling in me. Despite the screams from my mother and the flurry of movement from the security personnel around me, I stormed through them and reached the girl. I shoved everyone away and shielded the woman from them.

“Stay back!” I cried out. After the initial rush of adrenaline died down a bit, my sense of fear suddenly started rising as the group of perpetrators started closing in. I obviously did not think this through. As I started to shrink into my fear as well, two men shoved the perpetrators away. Thank God Mama thought to bring extra security with us today. I usually thought they were a nuisance but now their arms were like safe havens as they grabbed us from the group of men’s piercing stares. Once they recognized who I was and who they messed with, the group of men quickly dispersed with cautious eyes.

I sighed a huge breath of relief that I didn’t know I was holding in. I heard a small cough behind me and saw that the woman behind me was palpitating and taking shallow breaths.

“Hey, look at me,” I told her, to which she obliged. Her eyes were still scared as they met mine. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

The woman’s eyes watered and she let out a deep sigh. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She shed a few tears and composed herself, giving off a small smile of gratitude.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Juli,” she said.

“Hi Juli. I’m Bela. Know that you’re safe now, okay?”

Her eyes widened when she heard my name. “Ms. Bela! I am so sorry for being a worry. I didn’t recognize you at first.” She started to look lost and scared again.

I grabbed her hands and looked at her. “No, no Juli. It’s okay. You needed help. It was a good thing we were nearby when that happened. At least you’re safe now.”

“I’m sorry. There are just a lot of things happening right now. I’m really sorry I was a bother.” She looked down in shame.

“Juli,” I said with an air of authority so she would look at me. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it any longer. If you need help of any kind, or if you just need a friend, just go to my house. I’m sure you know where it is, right?” She replied with a nod. “Just look for Manang Lucing and tell her you’re there to see me. I will come.”

Finally, Juli smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Bela”

“Please call me Bela.” I smiled back at her and gave her a hug.

I heard my mother calling for me and we both parted ways. Three days after the incident, Manang Lucing my maid, told me that Juli was there to see me. I’m one to keep my promises so I did. Her visits became frequent as we saw each other during weekends, especially after Sunday mass. I started going to the afternoon masses with her so we could talk before the mass.

Juli is the daughter of Kabesang Tales and the fiancée of Basilio. Unfortunately, due to the uprising against President Fernandez, Basilio has gone missing and Kabesang Tales is missing, seemingly kidnapped by Fernandez’s cronies. Through her stories, I realized that I have been seeing life through rose-colored glasses. Seeing the world through Juli’s eyes, her friends and neighbors going missing one by one just to find out that some of them have been murdered, her father and her fiancée wrongly accused. The trend of extra-judicial killings have been rising higher and higher by the week. Slowly, my anger was building up against the administration, how ignorant it was to what the people felt and needed and only serving their own self-interests.

But the day came when I would be struck by the most horrible tragedy as well.

One morning, Manang Lucing came into my room. I was shocked to see her eyes filled with tears and red from crying.

“Ms. Bela. You need to see this,” she said.

I got out of bed in a hurried state, anxious with fear. When I saw the news flashed on the television, my whole being just sank. My heart, my body, my soul.

“GOVERNOR’S WIFE KILLED IN POLICE OPERATION”

Governor’s wife? Which governor? Wait where was Mama? Wasn’t Mama with Carlos? Where did they go?

“…Teresa Constantino, with Carlos Montemayor, son of Santa Clara governor Matteo Montemayor, were just some of the civilians killed in the bloody incident. The cause of the incident is unknown at the moment. Sources say that a fight between protest groups and the police broke out earlier, leading to the incident…”

When I heard their names, I felt my knees go from under me. Waking up to this news was nothing good. I did not even know where they went. Now they’re just…gone.

Once Papa heard what happened, he locked himself in his room for the whole afternoon. I would sometimes go by the door and listen to what he was doing inside. I heard episodes of pained cries and moments of pure silence. I wanted to hug him, hold him. I missed Papa. We needed to be together now.

The next morning, Papa emerged from the room and looked at me. He finally hugged me, the tightest hug he could give. He told me to be safe always since we never knew what can happen on the streets. I understood his sentiments, we both just wanted to be safe.

“Papa, what did Carlos’ family say?” I asked tentatively.

“I’m going there right now after breakfast. I need to talk to Matteo about the funeral and about this because incidents like this need to stop. No one deserves to die like this anymore. We need to end this right away.” Papa looked at me with determined eyes.

I hugged him. “Thank you, Papa. You take care too.”

He left for Santa Clara later in the day and came back home in the evenings. He would do the same in the days that followed. Sometimes I would wake up and he was nowhere to be found. He’d always come home though and at least he was safe.

One day, on another trip to Santa Clara, he never came back. He did not come home.

I contacted everyone. I asked help from all who were willing to help. It was weird because some of our security personnel at home went missing too. Were they accomplices? Or were they just collateral damage as well?

A knock sounded on my door. I looked to the sound and saw Juli. I ran to her and her open arms. I couldn’t take it. I felt weak and alone. Where was my family? They were all gone.

“Shh. It’s okay Bela. Just cry your heart out,” Juli said as she tightened her hold on me. So I did. I cried out all the pain, the suffering, the hurt, the confusion, the loneliness. And she held me. She kept quiet because no words were needed to be exchanged.

I regained my composure after a while in a sudden burst of realization. I looked at Juli.

“Juli, I will help you. I can’t believe it took this happening for me to finally move to action,” I told her with a new resolve in my voice.

“What do you mean?” Juli asked.

“I will help you get your family back. I don’t know where Papa is, if he is alive, or if I can still find him, but at least I can help you find Basilio and your father. I can help you get them back, and we will. I promise you.”

Juli’s eyes watered. “Thank you Bela. I will help you. Thank you so much.” We hugged each other tight, a new resolve evident in how we held each other. We will find a way.

The Montemayors still arranged a funeral for my dear Carlos and for my mother. I was glad they took her in as well. Governor Matteo and his wife welcomed me. Their eyes had a certain chill when they looked into mine. Their hands were cold to the touch and made me want to flinch away. They weren’t always like this. They used to be warm and inviting much like Carlos. There was something wrong, I could sense it.

I approached the coffins slowly, as if I could break at any moment. It was a good thing that I was holding on to Juli for support. Once I saw their faces, I bit my lip. I knew I couldn’t break down in front of everyone. Mama’s face, used to be full of life, is now painted and cold. Carlos’ beautiful eyes were gone, his lips closed shut. He can no longer give me smiles that would make me feel special.

“My deepest condolences to you,” a deep voice suddenly appeared beside me. It was accompanied by a figure in a dark suit, tall and strong. His eyes were behind dark lenses, making them undecipherable.

“Thank you, sir.” I replied in a curt manner, not wanting to attract any further attention. This was Simoun. He was a frequent visitor, often bringing various treasures from all over the world to sell back here in the Philippines. It made him rich, a simple thing like that for him.

“Simoun. No need for formalities,” he said. He took of his glasses to reveal deep dark eyes. I looked at him and saw that they were even more mysterious than when he had his glasses on. I could sense that this man had a troubled and dark past. Rumors often went around about Simoun.

I nodded to him in acknowledgment, but to my surprise he held my wrist with a tight grip. I widened my eyes at him in anger and shock, but his eyes told me to calm down. Once I found the willpower to swallow my words and anger, he let me go.

“What do you want?” I said.

“I have what you need,” he replied. “Come with me if you want to know.” Then he went outside, leaving me confused. I followed after him and demanded to tell me what he knew.

Simoun took a deep breath. “I have been here a month, yet things have become worse as if I have been gone a year. President Fernandez is doing nothing to rectify this situation because he is the cause of the situation. You mother and fiancé? They could have been spared in the riot, but they were killed by Fernandez cronies there. Where did the cronies come from? Right here in Santa Clara, from Carlos’ father himself. He only intended to kill your mother just to get to your father, but Carlos stood in the way so he was done with as well. No one cares about your life, that is what President Fernandez truly shows in his actions.”

I reeled back with all this information. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know you can do it, Bela. I’ve been watching you here in San Diego, looking from afar. Not to come off as being a stalker, but it just so happens that you were always in my line of sight. And I knew from your actions, you knew it all along deep inside.”

“Bela? Where are—” Juli stopped midsentence when she saw the man I was with. “Simoun?”

“Juli,” Simoun said with a small smile. Juli smiled and quickly hugged. When she pulled away, her eyes were bright with tears.

“Have you any news of Basilio? Please tell me he is okay, tell me my love is okay,” Juli pleaded with him.

“He is fine. He will get out soon enough. But for now, we have to focus on the plan at hand,” Simoun looked at me with resolute eyes.

“Plan? What plan?” I questioned.

Simoun gestured for us to come with him once more to a more private and remote place. There, he laid out his plans for the Santa Clara government. He planned to bomb the city hall during a city gathering to kill off most of the Fernandez cronies, including Matteo Montemayor and his wife. They were converted to become staunch supporters once they were bribed with money. This was to happen in a week. I was to come as a guest to bring in the bomb disguised as a lamp. Juli would serve as my companion and handmaiden to ensure that I was not alone.

The day came and Juli and I were prepared for the city gathering. We both steeled ourselves to face the people we hated the most, the people who took our families and loved ones away from us. It was only a few hours of enduring them so we could achieve a greater freedom for the country.

Once we both went down the car, we entered the building that was decorated to look like a grand ballroom. I quickly placed the lamp on a nearby table and activated it so we could be done with. Juli noticed this and we knew our job was done. The only task was to get out within an hour. We mingled for a bit with the people, I thanked them for their condolences.

As we were about to leave the building, two men suddenly blocked our way to the door and Governor Montemayor greeted us with a sly and evil smile.

“Going somewhere ladies?” From that moment, I knew things were not going to end well. With only 10 minutes left, I knew we had to think of something quick.

“Governor! We were just about to leave. The two of us have been feeling a little sick recently so we thought it best to rest. But thank you for inviting me here. I really was lovely.” Sweet talking might just work.

Governor Montemayor returned the sickly sweet smile with his own version of his but filled with contempt. “No problem, my dear. But you know, I noticed that you left something behind.” He held out the lamp. Juli’s eyes widened. Five minutes. “It would be a shame for you to leave it.”

I laughed it off. “Oh, that thing. Sorry for my indecency but it was intended as a gift. I couldn’t find you or your wife so I simply left it for you.”

A tight grip enclosed my arms and I saw the same for Juli. We both struggled to get free. “What is this? Let us go!” I demanded.

“I think I should be the one asking the questions here, no?” Governor Montemayor laughed.

Juli and I knew that the bomb was about to explode. So I kept quiet and looked at her, both of us saying our silent farewells.

A bright flash.

As I closed my eyes and braced for the blow of the bomb, a bright flash enveloped the place, but it wasn’t from the bomb. It was from the lights exploding as planned, more intense than how we thought it would play out.

A loud bang.

A pained voice cried out. Juli. Before we were plunged into darkness, I saw her expression. We were both hit by the sparks and the shrapnel from the exploding lights. All of a sudden, gunshots resounded from everywhere, echoing across the room. Deafening screams harmonized with the gunshots in a symphony of death and suffering. I blindly grasped for Juli’s hand. With the dim light from the moon and the faint glisten of the faraway floodlights, I made out Juli’s face from the darkness. We both fled as the gunshots still resounded.

We went to the discussed meeting place with Simoun but he was nowhere in sight. I then felt Juli give way beside me, crumpling to the ground, That was when I saw it: two pools of blood on her abdomen.

An endless cry of pain.

“No. No!” I cried out as Juli was bleeding out. It was my endless cry of pain. I lost my best friend. I held her hand tight. I tried to cover the wounds with my hands hoping it would disappear from under them. Simoun came quickly and saw this scene.

“No.” He was panting from the running, bloodied with his hair unkempt. He was holding a gun.

I pleaded, begged with him. “Save her! Do something!”

Instead, he grabbed my arm and brought me away from her body. “Bela, we have to go. We cannot be caught.”

“No!” I insisted on going back to Juli, my friend, my best friend. I love her, I don’t want to let her go.

“We can’t do anything about it! Listen to me. We can’t help her. We have to go.” Simoun turned me to face him as he said that, but I tried to push him away. With no other choice, he dragged me to his car despite my attempts to fight him. We drove away with me in grief, an endless stream of tears coming from my eyes.

I awoke to the sound of an idle engine. I didn’t notice that I fell asleep. I looked out the windshield to see Simoun leaning on the hood of the car. I went out to see him.

“The plan failed. The bomb didn’t work, unfortunately. That was my fault. The gunshots were from rioters that wanted to fight and I knew they could, so I told them about this plan. A rebellion of sorts, but it failed. And...” he paused for a brief moment. “I’m sorry about Juli. She became a friend too because of Basilio. She counted on me to set him free. Now they will not even meet anymore. So close yet so far.”

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Somewhere up north. We’ll find out in the morning.” Simoun looked weary and tired. I knew I did too.

“This country is in shambles. All because of one person. President Fernandez won the people over, but failed to realize the repercussions of his actions. Sadly, we failed to recognize them too. I hate how this all could’ve been prevented in the first place.” I sighed in defeat.

Simoun looked at me. “This is why I have to continue my plan. Though what happened back there failed, it was a start, a spark. I could do it again. It could work. I know it.”

I returned his look with a scowl. “That? That so-called ‘plan’ of yours? It backfired! It cost the life of a friend! And you want to do it again?” I was beyond frustrated.

He remained calm despite my tirade. “Yes. It failed, I know, but that’s what will make it succeed in the future because we know what to do next time.”

“Next time? No, screw you. And if you think I’m coming with you after this, I won’t. There is no ‘we’ in this plan of yours. It was rash and lacked tactics. It was poor. It was wrong. I was wrong to trust you.”

“I said ‘we’ because I believed that you knew what we were getting into. I believed you to know the consequences. I believed that you knew what we were fighting for. I must’ve been mistaken.” Simoun released a sigh, obviously trying to keep in his anger. “Get back in the car and sleep. We have a long drive ahead.” He was about to enter the car when he retorted, “If you don’t get in, I tell you this, I’m leaving without you.”

I went in grudgingly as he started to drive. After a few minutes, I dozed off into a dreamless slumber.

I woke up to the sun shining in my eyes. I was still in the car. Memories of last night flashed back in my mind, causing me to wince in pain. My body ached everywhere. There was a long gash on my right arm I never noticed last night. I blinked the sunlight away and noticed we were parked by a small hut in the middle of nowhere surrounded by greens and trees. I looked out the window to see Simoun and another man in a black shirt and dark jeans. He was lean, but his stance looked weak. His eyes were dark with sleeplessness. His face radiated defeat but for some reason his body was still standing straight. His eyes met mine as he glanced at the car. Simoun’s line of sight followed suit. This prompted me to get out of the car and face the two men.

“Hello.” I gave a small smile. The man in black went to me and offered an outstretched hand.

“Basilio.” Straightforward and no nonsense, this man introduced himself. This was Juli’s fiancé. I flinched as I remembered Juli.

“Bela.” I shook his hand. He gave a courteous smile that disappeared as quickly as it came.

Simoun left for a while without a word, leaving the two of us alone. I decided to break the silence. “I’m sure you know by now, so I’m sorry about Juli.” He winced at the mention of her name. “I know how you feel, it’s hard. She was my best friend. I love her too.”

“I know. Simoun told me all about it. Thank you for being her friend.” He gave off a small smile.

I looked at him, his eyes were downfallen. “How do you know Simoun?”

“We have a long history. He’s helped me in more ways than one, so now it’s my turn to help him.”

“Help him? And his plans? After hearing what happened back in Santa Clara, to Juli, you still plan to help him?” The incredulous tone evident in my voice.

He simply looked back at me and said, “Yes. Because I know he has plans for the country. He can work things into his hand. A lot of people support him because they can see the possibility. I hope you see it too.”

Suddenly, all the plans we talked about before came into full view. Then and there, with despite the feeling of doubt, I knew Basilio was right. I just knew it.

Simoun came back with a few bags in hand. “We’re leaving again, we have to go further up north to meet up with several others.” Basilio nodded and got the bags from Simoun’s hands.

Both of them paused to look back at me. “Are you coming?” Simoun asked.

With everything that has happened on my life so far, I knew that there was something more worth fighting for. President Fernandez was not what the Philippines deserved and needed. Lives were at stake, and I was willing to give it for the people.

With this, I said, “Yes.”