#.atzcoke

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role - ACT IX (C.S; S.MG)

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader

warnings: violence near the end, little bit of smut, homophobic parents and just shit all over in general

wc: 11 k

taglist:  @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwamour @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke  @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny @kpopnightingale  @raineadlr @ilikepalta @m4rsluv  @smimingi @bubbleteakittyy  @mingkiyoo @theactresstarringinurbadreams  @mangishii @cryingaboutskz @y2ksturniolo   @layzfeelit   @khjssss  @rdiamond2727 @adajoemaya  @outrologist @smuchsmut @flaminghotcheetoos @dogsongy @seesaw-jk  @seojonneh @hyukssunflower @haatohwa @wonwowzers @downbadreading @moonchele @leeknowsnothing  @noone356097 @raspberryhong  @xciiiomwliah  @belle643 @doom-fics  @cutesince2000​ 

 act viii / masterlist / act x

A/N: WELL WELL WELL...look what the cat dragged in. here it is guys, i whipped this up real quick bc i was feeling better these last couple of days and had some actual time to write!! hope you enjoy <3

"There's a moment in the buddleia's lifecycle, purple flowers blooming, cabbage white butterflies flitting, when it's beautiful and triumphant, sprouting out of the broken wall without an ounce of earth to flourish in. That's what we humans have to do, I think whenever I see it, keep blooming despite the barren circumstances we sometimes find ourselves in. After a few weeks the buddleia becomes a weed again, , with grime-splattered leaves and crispy brown flowers that never fall off. You can only fight so hard, and for so long, before your environment engulfs you." ― Viv Albertine, To Throw Away Unopened

"Seonghwa keeps calling me."

Your eyes pull away from the re-runs of an old sitcom playing on the TV and fall to Wooyoung sitting beside you on the couch. He's freshly showered and already dressed in his pajamas, damp hair falling over his forehead and dark circles under his eyes that show how tired he is.

"I told him you're staying with me." Wooyoung continues in a hesitant tone, casting a glance at you. "He seems worried."

"Oh." Is your only response as you grab the remote again to flick through the channels, hoping it will distract you enough.

"Y/N," He starts softly, glancing at you again before quickly looking away. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Your finger freezes on the button of the remote and you pursue your lips as you stare at the screen.

Wooyoung has been a tremendous help, letting you stay at his place, covering all the costs for now because you have very little cash left in your wallet and always, always offering to talk about it.

You've successfully dodged it up until now. Derailed every conversation from taking any serious routes, threw a question back as an answer to his question and disappeared to his guest bedroom on more than one occasion just to avoid his eyes on you.

But today, it's harder.

Maybe because you haven't left this apartment for two days since you didn't have any classes, haven't spoken to anybody but him in more than a week now, barely ate and were in a desperate need of a shower.

But your defenses were down.

The remote falls out of your hand to the couch and you heave a deep sigh, not having the courage to look him in the eye.

"I almost killed myself three days after my graduation."

When Wooyoung stills beside you, you take a quick glance at him from the corner of your eye before groaning. "It was stupid."

"I," You start, turning to see his wide eyes trained on you before looking at the TV again. Well, you said it so you might as well start from the beginning. "I started taking medication for panic attacks when I was sixteen after one of my dad's partner's son tried to...well, he managed to get me alone at a charity event and tried to...do whatever it is he planned to do."

"Nothing happened." You quickly reassure him, although the memories still bring a sour feeling in your chest, "A staff walked past the room we were in and managed to get him off of me and called my parents."

A bitter smile raises to your lips. Your dad still continued to work with him because the father of the guy promised him benefits for the company just so the entire incident with his son remained hushed up.

"Whatever. None of that is important." You wave off again despite Wooyoung not saying anything, just staring at you with a sad frown. "The point is that I couldn't handle any...events we had after that."

"What do you mean?" He whispers with brows furrowed and you throw your head back to rest on the couch.

"I'd...I was scared that something like that would happen again. I mean-...I mean my parents obviously didn't care enough and I was scared that it would happen again with some other company heir, that he'd drag me somewhere and this time nobody will find us on time." You explain hurriedly, tears already brimming your lower lash line. "You've been to those parties, Wooyoung, you know how they go. I'm not saying all of the guys I met there were bad, some of them were pretty sweet actually, treated me like a little sister and shit but anyways, my mom got sick of me breaking down before every gala or charity even or whatever so...so she started giving me those pills."

"And none of them were with a prescription either." You chuckle humorlessly, running a hand through the strands of hair falling out of your ponytail.

"Nothing is wrong with her, she's just being dramatic." Your mother waves off Seonghwa's concerns. "What do you want us to do, Seonghwa? Take her to a therapist? So the entire world starts talking about how crazy she is? You know how people are! They would talk!"

"Mom, she's not crazy-"

"Exactly! She's fine."

"Like a real suburban housewife, she had a fucking pharmacy in her bathroom cupboard." You chuckle again, fiddling with your thumbs and noticing how some shitty reality show is playing on the TV now. "Prozac, Zoloft, Klonopin, Valium, Xanax...I don't even know how she got them but it was a junkie's dream come true."

You glance at Wooyoung again, the pitiful expression on his face making you want to curl in on yourself. But you can't now. You have to continue, finish what you started.

"I was so young so she'd give me half of a pill before whatever we were going to." "What are they for?" "It's to help calm you down." "A doctor gave you these-?" "Just take it and stop asking questions." "For what they were, they worked."

"But very fast, half a pill wasn't enough anymore so she started giving me one whole." You bite your lip as the memories resurface. "I barely remember a single even we've been on as a family between the ages of sixteen and eighteen."

"So..." Wooyoung clears his throat and you turn to look at him again. His eyes are soft and mouth turned downwards. "So they sent you to rehab for that?"

You laugh a little, "I wish. I wish that's all it was."

At his frown, you continue.

" I wasn't scared of taking it because I thought I was above becoming an addict. I had my head screwed on right for the most part so I thought I was smart and resilient enough to know when to stop." But you weren't. You were weak. A heap of skin and bones, barely working together ran by a brain that couldn't survive by itself.

The girl you see every time you look into the mirror, only at the time, there was no rust, no moss and no bent out of shape nails for smiles. She was shiny and new. Ready to take on the world.

"You know, athletes often become addicts because they suffer an injury and get prescribed pain killers and they get hooked. Your brain starts tricking you that there's pain when there isn't so you continue taking them and ..." You trail off with a sigh, "That's what happened. I told myself they were for panic attacks and anxiety before these parties but then it slowly turned to panic attacks and anxiety before school and then panic attacks for my fuckin' trig homework until I was taking a couple a day."

Wooyoung is quiet besides you and you don't blame him. You wouldn't know what to say either, never that good at comforting others.

"Then I met Jiyeon, he...he was my first boyfriend I guess." Tall, dark and handsome. And always with a different opium in his pockets. "He sold pills to me. Not panic attack medication but pills."

"By senior year, I was an addict. I'd snort shit at parties, have stashes in my room, knew what to say and where to find drugs..." You blink up at the ceiling. "This is getting too fucking long of a story."

"I don't care. What happened next?" Wooyoung asks, not pushing but asking in a way that shows that he cares.

You look at him again, hesitating.

"Y/N, you can tell me." He whispers and your eyes water as you suck in a harsh breath.

"I barely saw Seonghwa during my senior year, he was doing internships and it's not like it matters either, I probably wouldn't have remembered even if I did. But senior year happened, you know, college applications and all that fun stuff." Popping your lips, you wrap your arms around yourself. "I was always supposed to study business, like him."

Wooyoung nods in understanding.

"But I didn't want to. At the time, it seemed like a long shot but I sent in an application for art school as well. And I got in." You shake your head, memories of that spring resurfacing. Of the happiness and hope you felt just for the rug to be pulled from under your feet. "Long story short; I got in and told my parents and they said 'no'."

"I don't want to hear of it again."

"But dad-"

"Y/N. This is your last warning."

"Three days after I graduated, I had a big fucking argument with my parents over it. I kept pushing and pushing, asking and begging...but they didn't change their minds." Turning to Wooyoung with tears in your eyes, you continue. "It might sound fucking stupid and dramatic and bratty but studying what they wanted seemed like a death sentence for me. I just couldn't do it. I...it wouldn't stop with just college, I knew it."

"They would have me for life Wooyoung. After college, it would be to work where they wanted me to and then I would marry someone they pick out for me and then I'd life with my shitty husband in a place they would choose and it would just go on and on and on..." The first tear slips out, "At least it seemed like it at the time."

He's tearing up as well and you can't bare to look at him anymore so you turn to face the TV again. The shame and guilt that you've felt since that day resurfacing and becoming all too much.

"That night I just wanted to forget. I don't think I tried to kill myself, I don't...I don't know. I don't remember but I did want to forget so I took a bunch of pills and mixed it with vodka and..."

You don't remember anything from that night after the first pill.

"Seonghwa found me." You sniffle, "They were at a charity event hosted by my uncle and he came home early and found me in my room."

"Hwa..." You whisper hoarsely, the harsh lights of the hospital room digging into your skull. Your tongue felt like sandpaper.

Seonghwa just sits in the chair by your bed and stares at you. Dark, tired eyes with circles underneath them serving as proof of the unslept days.

You reach out for his hand only to get pushed away.

"How could you do that?" He chokes out, eyes shaking and once the realization hits you, your own eyes start watering.

"Hwa..." Is all you can say.

"Don't fucking call me that. How could you do this?" He mutters, eyes hollow and cheeks sunken, "Did you ever stop for a second and think about your family?"

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it this time, Y/N." Seonghwa snaps and your bottom lip trembles at the harsh words. "You could've fucking died. I thought you were gone!"

"I didn't mean to..." You softly cry out, "I just...I didn't..."

"You're going to rehab." He interrupts you and your lips part at the admission.

"W-what?"

"You heard me. Mom already made the calls, you're going in a week."

"I don't need to go anywhere, I'm fine-!"

"You're fine." Seonghwa laughs sarcastically, standing up from his seat and turning his back to you. "You were choking on your own fucking vomit, don't tell me you're fine! You have a fucking problem, Y/N! A serious one, a problem that could ruin your life!"

"Hwa-"

"Don't." He whispers, turning to you with empty eyes, "Don't call me that anymore."

"They said I was in London that summer, right?" You ask with a bitter smile and chuckle at Wooyoung's nod, "London my ass. I was on a ranch somewhere in Iowa, listening to people talk to me about Jesus and finding the right path for four months."

"No contact with the outside world. They didn't even call the whole summer until my dad did one morning." You sigh heavily, "Said I could study art if something like this never happened again and I agreed. Art was the most important thing, it had to be."

The worst part wasn't that Seonghwa hated you. It wasn't even that you were completely alone and could only rely on the support of strangers that barely spoke Korean for those four excruciating months. It was, in the end, that your parents really could care less whether you lived or died because the most important thing always was that nobody else was allowed to find out.

Think of your image. Think of what people would say. Think of the family.

"So that's pretty much it." You snort, glancing at Wooyoung before looking away with a nervous giggle. "My sob story."

When he remains stoic, you chuckle again awkwardly, "What? Well, I know it might not be as exciting as you expec-"

Warms arms wrap around you until you're engulfed by the scent of Wooyoung's laundry detergent clinging to the material of his hoodie and the sentence dies out at the tip of your tongue.

"Y/N, you'll always have me. No matter what." A squeak leaves you at Wooyoung's words whispered against your hair and the first sob can't be contained anymore until you're loudly crying against him as his hands rub your back in a way that can only be done for someone you you truly love. You think it feels like family.

And it makes you cry harder.

The days continue to trickle by, time stopping for no-one and you continue to go to classes and straight back home. You don't respond to Seonghwa's messages and San's remain unanswered as well.

It's only Wooyoung and you and the little routine you've established.

You can't even remember the last time you've seen Hongjoong. You didn't try to reach out to him but neither did he. Which was okay, you suppose.

Nothing happened between the two of you but people just grow apart. You're not entirely sure just how close you were to Hongjoong in the first place. You guess that it had a lot to do with Mingi and the absence of your study sessions in the library. They're the only thing that tied you to Hongjoong in the first place.

You're freshly showered, sitting on the floor of Wooyoung's guest bedroom and trying to sort out a portfolio that you plan on sending off to galleries and praying someone deems it good enough so you can get some money. It's becoming too embarrassing to look Wooyoung in the eye every time he pays for your meal or buys you basic stuff like shampoo and pads.

You know it's nothing for him because he has money, he's as rich as you are...well, were but it's still uncomfortable. You're not used to being anyone's charity case.

The phone buzzes on the carpet next to you and you know it's another message from San so you don't even bother checking it.

Wooyoung quietly walks into the room and climbs up on your bed and you don't pay him much thought, thinking that he's probably bored or something.

"Hey, can we talk?" He asks softly and you turn to look at him in surprise, not used to his serious demeanor before nodding and turning to face him completely from the floor.

"Yeah, what's up?"

Wooyoung clears his throat, "I scheduled brunch with my parents tomorrow and...I plan to tell them. That I'm gay."

"Oh shit." You can't even hide the surprise on your face, "Okay..."

He chuckles, "Well, we both know how that's going to go..."

You observe the way he avoids your eyes and fidgets in his seat but you have no idea how to comfort him. What to do or say. You can't imagine how he's feeling.

"Do...do you want to talk about it?" You ask awkwardly and he quickly shakes his head.

"No, no. I was just...I was thinking, you know how you got into that fancy summer program and in Paris? You got a scholarship as well, right?"

Pausing for a moment, you already have a feeling you know where this conversation is headed.

"Yeah?"

"So, I was thinking," Wooyoung looks at you with his puppy eyes, the hoodie he was wearing swallowing him whole and making him look much smaller than he actually is. "What if we both go. To Paris."

You blanch, "What?"

"I have some money saved up. It's not a lot but it would be enough to get us through the first couple of months if we learn to budget properly." He shrugs while your mouth is still hanging open. "I mean, we'd have to get jobs eventually, once we're settled in but I could get my master's there and you could go to your school..."

"Wooyoung," You scoff with a nervous smile, "We can't go to Paris."

"Why not?" He questions with a frown.

"Why-...why do you want to go so badly?"

Wooyoung goes quiet and neither one of you moves from your positions. Your gaze doesn't stray away from him, sitting on the bed with his legs criss-crossed.

"After I tell my parents... and they basically say I'm dead to them...then what? Like, what do I do?" He asks with a humorless chuckle, fingers picking at the threads of the comforter.

"You..." There's a pause because you feel like a shitty friend. You want to be there for him like he's been for you but you just don't know how. Swallowing, you continue with determination. "You live your life the way you want to then."

Wooyoung laughs a little at that. "But that's the thing. I don't think I can do that here."

With a frown, you open your mouth to protest but he's quicker.

"I want to be myself so badly, Y/N, but I don't know how to do that here without feeling like an anomaly or something." He explains and your heart aches at the shakiness of his voice. "I don't want anyone here looking at me or talking about me or-"

"Wooyoung-"

"No. You know they will, you know how they are!" He says louder and your mouth clamps shut at the tears in his eyes, "I don't-..." A small groan escapes him as he rubs his eyes, "I want to go somewhere and start fresh and meet new people and show them a new Wooyoung and maybe figure out who Wooyoung actually fucking is!"

You clamber from your seat on the floor and up the bed towards him, when your gazes meet Wooyoung quickly diverts his eyes, scratching his cheek.

"I'm tired and being here...in this city...in this fucking country...it's suffocating." He explains quietly, mouth turned downwards. "I don't care if that makes me a pussy but yes, I want to fucking run away as far as I can."

"It doesn't." You softly reassure him.

You both stay quiet, shoulders brushing and breathing synced. The silence is heavy but words seem to fall short on both of you.

Glancing at Wooyoung from the corner of your eyes, "How long have you felt that way?"

He snorts, "Years."

The way he seems utterly defeated tugs at your heartstrings and hugging him would be the best option but it's so unlike you. Which is selfish and another proof of how shitty of a friend you are but you can't bare to show that kind of affection just yet.

"I know it's a small thing, I mean, we'd be moving to another continent for fuck's sake..." Wooyoung starts, lips folded into a devastating pout, "But this isn't something I just came up with because I was bored, I've been thinking about it for weeks now."

"If you think it's a stupid idea, then okay," He shrugs, turning to you with a small smile, "I just thought it was worth a shot to bring it up."

You lick your lips, looking around the room and trying to get your thoughts in check.

Moving to Paris seemed unimaginable, even when Professor Ahn first brought up the idea but you would be lying if you said the thought of it didn't excite you. Even then.

But could you really leave everything behind and just...go?

The realization that you don't have much left in the first place causes something heavy to settle in your stomach. What would you really be leaving behind? Who would you be leaving behind?

"How about we think about it some more." You say in the end and it seems to be enough for Wooyoung for the time being, at least, because he nods with soft eyes.

In the morning, you wake up when your alarm goes off and start getting ready for classes, not expecting Wooyoung to be up just yet but he surprises you when you find him sitting by the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand.

You already said it, you can't imagine how he feels knowing he's going to tell something to his parents that might ruin his relationship with them forever but you can tell he's scared. His leg keeps bouncing up and down and he's fidgety.

You try stalling while you're having breakfast, trying to come up with comforting words that might put him at ease just a little. But he's avoidant, opts for making small talk about the weather instead and commenting on your outfit.

After you put on your light jacket and have your bag draped over your shoulder, you stop in the kitchen on your way to the door.

Wooyoung's back is facing you as he sits on one of the stools, staring at the marble counter and you gently place a hand on his back.

"Wooyoung," You call out gently and he hums in response not looking back. "No matter what happens today, it's going to be alright."

You cringe at your own words. That's how far your comfort can go for the time being and you wish you could offer him more because it's the least he deserves but you just don't know how.

"I know." He mutters before turning to you with a small smile that seems anything but sure and nodding again. "I know."

You nod as well.

"Okay."

It's like you're sitting on needles for the remainder of the day.

You breeze through the classes, not awfully bothered that you're not paying attention because it's the end of the year anyways and you passed all your subjects already. Every time your phone buzzes, you flinch expecting to see a message from Wooyoung telling you to rush back home but it's never him. It's San.

San: wanna hang out tonight?

You lock your phone back and take a deep breath, having already too much on your mind to think about San.

When you come back home, your new home, it's empty. Wooyoung is still not back and you begin to grow worried.

So you throw yourself into small chores around the place like placing the dishes from breakfast into the dishwasher and folding the laundry that sat on the corner of the couch in the living room for the past three days. When you change out of your clothes into a pair of leggings and a shirt and take off your make-up, you hear the front door open and close and you rush out to the hallway.

Wooyoung is taking off his shoes once you walk into the main space of the apartment and he arrives from the hallway, eyes rimmed red and looking absolutely exhausted.

You already feel the sadness kick in.

"Hey." You greet him softly, with wide and unsure eyes.

"Hey." He croaks out, rubbing his nose before throwing the keys of his car on the counter. He's avoiding your eyes.

"Uh," You wring your hands, biting your lip, "H-how did it go?"

"As expected." Wooyoung laughs but it reaches nowhere near his eyes and you know it's all pretend.

Like an idiot, you just stand in front of him as words fail you. Once again.

"I mean, I knew it was going to happen so.." He quickly adds with a chuckle, "It's stupid that I'm upset, I was literally preparing myself for this so...it's just dumb-"

"Wooyoung-"

"I'm not even upset, it's not a big deal. I hate them anyways so...w-who cares right?" Tears well in his eyes but the smirk doesn't slip, "Like, at least I'm free now right? I can do whatever I want and-"

This time, you don't hesitate like you did yesterday. You don't think if it's going to be awkward or out of character, you just move. Your arms wrap around him and it's all that takes for him to break, for the soft raspy sobs to start wrecking through his frame as he latches onto you and his head buries into your neck.

"It's okay." You softly console him, rubbing his back, "I'm sorry Wooyoung, you're going to be okay. I promise..."

"Y/N." He cries into your hair, fingers curling around the material of your shirt, "What did I do? W-what did I do? I shouldn't have-"

"I promise, Wooyoung." You swear to him, "I know it's hard but I promise."

You hold your best friend as he falls apart in your arms and you think about what family really is. Could people that make you cry this hard ever be family? Or maybe both Wooyoung and you have just been born into the wrong one.

You wonder how both of you would've turned out if things were different.

It's not important now. Nothing matters.

Nothing matters beside your promise. An oath you make to yourself that you will do your best for Wooyoung to be happy. Like he deserves to be.

As the days pass by, you start thinking about Paris more and more. It seems more enticing with each passing hour and soon enough, you start imagining Wooyoung and you sharing an apartment (maybe smaller than this one because you both are going to be broke pretty soon).

Away from your family, away from Wooyoung's family, away from San, away from the prying eyes and expectations. Away from everyone.

From: park_yn.hotmail.com ahn.sooyoung.outlook.com

To: ahn.sooyoung.outlook.com

Do I need to prepare any documents for the application  to Beaux-whatever? Not saying I'm going but heard Paris is super romantic during the winter. Better be safe than sorry.

P.S. Sorry for being mean to you (although you kind of deserved it but I'm trying this new thing out where I act like an adult or something)

As you quietly (and secretly) start collecting the needed documents and papers for the program, you remember the one thing you have to do. One last thing.

San.

You want to see him, just one more time and then you swear to yourself that you will be done.

You're not entirely too sure about that but you're trying to be resilient and you think you owe it to yourself to see him one last time. After fawning over him for over 2 years now, hell yeah, you do.

At first, you console yourself saying it's to get closure but you know that's a damn lie.

There is no closure in this story, there is no ending because nothing has ever even begun. You just want to indulge in him one last time because even after all the pain and heartbreak, Choi San is the hardest drug to get off of.

You will smile at him one last time. Have sex with him one last time. And then bid him goodbye.

And then you will book two tickets to Paris and get as far away from him as possible just so you don't feel the temptation again.

If there was one thing you learned by now, it was not to lie to Wooyoung.

Even though you figure that not telling him where you were going wasn't exactly a lie but hiding it wasn't exactly too far off. And you don't do that anymore, you don't lie to Wooyoung.

"I'm going to see San."

Wooyoung pauses behind the cluttered dinning room table, slowly lifting his head up to meet your eyes. The disappointment in them is evident.

It's been a week since he told his parents and he's been keeping himself busy with hobbies that he picks up on a whim and then drops only days later. You never protest though, sometimes you even join him.

Doing puzzles was fun. So was trying to make your own candy.

"Why?" He asks quietly and you swallow, fiddling with your fingers.

"Because," You start, taking a couple of steps towards him, "This is the last time."

He goes silent again, eyes falling to the table. You know he has a plethora of words already lined up for you but it seems like he learned something as well. You'll do what you want anyways.

"Why do you think that's something he deserves?" Wooyoung questions, anger hidden in his tone as he looks up at you once again. You give him props for holding his composure this well.

"I'm not doing it for him. I'm doing it for me." You whisper, biting your lip. "I spent too much time being...whatever it was w-with him and...I just want to do this. One last time."

He stares at you, warm brown eyes filled with uncertainty before eventually, he nods.

"Alright. You do what you need to do." Wooyoung agrees, eyes still on you, "One last time."

You take the bus to San's dorm because that's something you do know. You travel by public fucking transportation. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

As you walk up the steps to his apartment, you can't help but get reminded of the time of your art show where Choi San broke your heart by breaking another promise.

Yeosang opens the door, as per usual.

The snarky greeting is missing and you have a feeling you know why but you don't let your mind stay on it too long, no matter how much it pisses you off. The last thing you need is Kang Yeosang of all people pitying you.

"He's in his room." He says quietly and you just nod in response and make your way to San's bedroom.

After two soft knocks, San opens the door dressed in sweatpants and a simple T-Shirt, with hair still wet presumably from a shower. Immediately, you're overcome by the smell of his shampoo and just...him.

"Hey." He smiles lightly, letting you enter.

"Hi." You respond back with a shaky smile, looking around his room as if you're seeing it for the first time.

It's still the same, only the desk is a bit cleaner probably because exams have passed and San, no doubt, aced all of them.

"You weren't responding for weeks." He chuckles, closing the door behind him and watching as you walk over to his desk to lean on it. "I thought you found yourself a new boy-toy or something."

You chuckle at that as well, gazing out his window to avoid his eyes. "Nope. No new boy-toy."

The memories of the first time you ever walked into this room surface up and you remember how absolutely smitten you were with Choi San. You remember the hope and fervour you felt to make him yours.

Now, it's just sad.

"So then why didn't you?" His voice brings you back to reality. You turn to him, confused. "Respond. Why didn't you?"

San poses the question with an unusual hardness, as if he knows something you don't.

"Oh. I was just busy." You wave him off. Yeah, just busy and definitely not trying to piece myself up after you took advantage of my blind trust and took a big, fat shit all over it. Also, I got kicked out of my family and am leeching off of my best friend who is about to be as broke as me. Sorry San, you weren't exactly a priority.

"Busy?" He scoffs and you cock your head to the side in confusion once again, not understanding the sudden hostility.

Maybe San realizes how that came out and he quickly seems to recollect himself. You watch him take a deep breath and features soften.

"I know, Y/N."

You freeze at that, eyes boring into his and mind going into overdrive. What does he know? He knows that you overheard him?

Fuck.

That would make you look so weak and pathetic which is the last thing you want.

'Upset that I spilled your secrets, princess? Well maybe you shouldn't have been a naive idiot and told them to me in the first place.'

You can already imagine him saying that. San was good at a lot of things. Sex and math being just a couple examples out of many but he was an expert at being cruel.

"You know what?" You ask carefully, gripping the edge of his desk.

San chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head.

"I know about you and Yunho."

Relief floods through you, no matter how awkward the situation just became. He doesn't know shit.

"Oh." You breathe out, your posture relaxing.

"Yeah, he told me." He nods, running a hand through his hair before settling them both on his hips. "I'm not mad or anything, I mean I have no right to be mad-"

"Yeah, you don't." You interrupt quickly, watching his face tighten for a split second you think you might've imagined it.

"So you didn't have to avoid my texts." He chuckles lightly, playing with the ends of his shirt and you realize that he seems awkward. "I mean, we're fuckin' friends aren't we?"

You stare at him, wondering if he knows how big of a hypocrite he is. You wonder if he even remembers how many times he left you high and dry, ghosting you for days on end and then just coming back without a single explanation.

You wonder how can he so easily lie to you, call you his friend and then break a promise he made to you and betray your trust like it's nothing.

"Yeah."

"So, are you two like..." He trails off, the words seemingly bitter on his tongue. "Are you two together now or something? Or, like, you plan on making it a casual thing with him-"

"No." You quickly say, "It was just a one time thing."

"Oh, okay." San chuckles, brows furrowed as he seems more at ease now. "Then you really didn't have to avoid me. I thought you were into him now or something and you didn't know how to break it to me or whatever...

"Nope," You shake your head with pursued lips, "And I wasn't avoiding you, I really was just busy."

"Okay, busy with what?" San sighs out, sitting down on his bed.

It irks you that now is when he wants to know about what you're up to. Why now out of all the times before?

Still, you play along. The invitation to his attention looking far too tempting not to at least indulge a little.

"Just stuff." You shrug. "I moved to a new place so I was busy with settling in and you know, exams..."

He hums, "You got a new place-?"

"Look, San, let's just jump right into it." You wave off whatever question he had for you with a fake smile, "We both know why we're here so let's start with the part where we get naked."

San looks you over, rubbing his lips together and seemingly in deep thought before he nods.

"Alright. Come here?" He softly calls out, holding a hand out for you and you nod with a heavy breath before walking over to him just to be immediately pulled into his lap.

You're all too familiar with the rest.

Lips brushing against your cheek, down your neck. Calloused fingers brushing your bare waist and taking off your shirt, warm hands gripping your thighs in just the right way.

And you take your time with him as well. Doing your very best to memorize him.

The slope of his nose, the arc of his brows, the fullness of his lips. The way his strong arms feel around you and his thighs beneath you. The firmness of his chest and the soft skin. His scent. San.

Having sex with San so many times by now made him aware of when you needed it and how you wanted it to go. It's not a spectacular trait of his but right now, he could probably feel the sadness. He knows something is wrong but he won't ask because he doesn't exactly care.

But sex was always the sole center of your agreement with him so you can always trust him with that at least. And that means he will slow things down for you. His touches will be softer, the kisses pressed to your neck slower and the way he moves his hips will be gentler.

If your heart wasn't breaking over and over again and if tears weren't threatening to spill at any given moment - you would've been able to enjoy it fully. But even with the tears and the sadness and the pain, it's still nice. Bittersweet.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes fluttered shut as his thrusts continue their slow but calculated pace. You make sure to run your fingers through his dark hair one last time, just so you can try and memorize the way it feels under your fingertips.

You freeze for a split second when his lips brush yours. It's accidental and you observe San's reaction from your barely open eyes.

He's staring at your lips, his own slightly parting and for an actual moment you think he might kiss you.

You don't know if you wanted him to.

You always wanted to kiss San, have been wondering how his lips might feel on yours for as long as you've known him but you know... You know.

You know if he kisses you now, it's going to be over.

He will have you tied to him forever because you won't be able to let go and the thought excites you almost as much as it scares you.

This isn't love but you wanted for it to be so badly.

A lone tear slips down your cheek once San seemingly makes up his mind and presses his lips to your cheek instead, soft breaths panning across your skin as a small moan escapes you and he brushes the tear under your eye with his thumb.

You come and so does he. And now you want nothing more than to disappear.

San's habit of cuddling and lazily kissing your skin after sex persists even now.

You can feel his thumb brush your temple as his fingers get tangled in your hair. His lips cascading down the side of your neck as his other hand lays by your head, fingers intertwined with your own.

This time, you can't allow it.

You've given him enough of yourself. More than you've given anyone else.

You push at his chest weakly but he takes the hint, gently pulling out and then rolling off of you with a surprised grunt once you push at him with more force.

Immediately, you sit up even with your head still foggy from the orgasm and letting your bare feet hit the cold floor as you reach for your skirt that was discarded next to the bed.

You can feel San's eyes on you and you don't have the courage to look back or say anything so you just focus on getting dressed as quickly as possible.

"You're-..." His voice cracks and he clears his throat quickly, the sheets ruffling behind you, "You're leaving?"

"Yeah." You say weakly, trying to hide the shaking of your voice as you pull your shirt on.

"Oh," He breathes out and you hate that your mind is conjuring up the disappointment in his voice. He's not disappointed because he doesn't give a fuck. "I thought we could finish that show we started before I left...We have three more episodes-"

"Can't." You interrupt quickly, chuckling a little bit to try and seem as carefree as possible, "I have an assignment I need to turn in tomorrow, so..."

"Oh, okay..."

After your socks and shoes are pulled on, you stand up and pull your jacket on, back still turned to him. He breaks the silence again when you reach for your bag.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

You pause at the question.

There are two options now.

One is to let the hinges fly open from your face and to turn around and finally let Choi San find out what actually hides behind the perfect facade. To allow him to see all the mechanisms, rusty screws and nails that mold your face. San said that looking at you was like looking into a mirror, so would it really make a difference if you showed him what you see every time you look into the mirror?

The other option is to, one last time, fake a smile and get the fuck out. In the end, that's what you go with.

You turn to him, mouth quirking up in a convincing smile and you know it's convincing because you're a good liar.

"Yeah," You shrug with a breathy giggle but he just stares in response. The covers are draped across his hips and he looks devastatingly beautiful. Why couldn't you just love me? "I'm just a little bit stressed...because of that assignment."

"I'm sure it will be fine." He muses and you nod in response with another crooked smile, heading towards the door.

You grip the door knob. "Y/N."

San is still looking at you, sitting up in his bed as he smiles the same smile that got you into this mess with him in the first place. Dimples and all.

"I'll see you around?"

You chuckle before nodding again, pulling the door open. "Sure."

"Bye." He bids sweetly and you laugh again, tears brimming your eyes and you quickly turn around before he can see them and head through the door.

"Goodbye, San."

You will never see him again.

Back on that steep hill, where you've been twirling with San for the past two years with his hands tightly gripping yours and the harsh winds whipping around you,

"Let go, Y/N!" San yells with a smile, his laugh sounding like bells chiming, "Let go! It will be so good, just let go!"

You've been holding on for far too long. Your hands are cramping up from gripping onto him, your cheeks are sore from the harsh wind slicing through them. Your hair wraps around your throat but you still hesitate.

"Let go, Y/N!" San laughs again but it's distorted and he seems blurry, "Let go of my hands, there's no use anymore!"

Your fingers relax their hold on his slightly but your feet still have the same quick pace.

You want to be set free.

"Let go!" San yells.

And so you do.

You let go and the strong winds sweep you up from the grass and you fly off the cliff like you were placed on a catapult.

The weeping stars greet you from above and then it's gravity pulling you down until you're swept by the fuchsia colored waves.

You drown.

You walk back to Wooyoung's apartment.

It's almost an hour walk. It's the middle of spring and everything is waking up around you. The trees are particularly green, the flowers are starting to bloom, kids are starting to play in the park across the street again and owners of establishments that you pass by are starting to place tables and chairs on the clean terraces.

Spring was your favorite time of the year.

Now, you don't even notice it. You just numbly walk past everything.

Wooyoung is rustling through the cupboards of the living room when you walk in and you would walk straight past him if he didn't stop you.

"Hey, have you seen my Airpods? I swear I left them here somewhere..." You don't respond, just stare blankly at the beige carpet on the living room floor, not even noticing that you're crying. "Y/N, are you even listening to me- What's wrong?"

As always, he drops everything and rushes to you with a concerned look on his face and grips your elbows.

"Was it San? Did he do something again?"

You laugh shakily, the tears streaming down your cheeks as you stare at him.

His hair is much longer now than it was when you first became friends. Midnight black and disheveled, face bare but still pretty. Pretty tan skin and matching moles. In a soft oversized T-Shirt and sweatpants, feet bare.

"I'll kick his ass! I mean it!"

You laugh again at that, Wooyoung couldn't hurt a fly. Especially not San.

You look around his living room, your living room. A space you've been sharing for these couple of weeks but it feels much longer. There is your painting aisle in the corner and Wooyoung's work out gear right next to it. The couch is messy, mismatched pillows and Wooyoung's favorite blanket draped on it. The dining room table is cluttered with hobbies that Wooyoung took interest in, recently or a long time ago, unfinished DIY projects and your make-up mixed together, your sketching pencils, papers, books. There is a sketch of him that you made not too long ago, sitting prettily framed on the wooden commode near the TV.

So many memories and reminders of how your lives are intertwined and that from now on until the end, Wooyoung and you are a package deal. You don't need anyone else by your side, just him.

You reach out to touch his cheek, an overwhelming feeling of gratefulness and fondness hitting you out of nowhere.

Wooyoung. Your best friend. Your favorite person in the world. Your rock.

Your Wooyoung.

"Y/N, what happened?" He asks gently, hand placed over yours that rested on his cheek.

The decision was made a long time ago, you knew that. You were simply too scared to bring it up because bringing it up would make it real but it was bound to happen.

Both alone, scared and wanting to run away.

There is nothing here for either one of you anymore.

"Wooyoung-ah, let's go to Paris."

Bonus:

As San munches on half of an ice cream sandwich he stole from Jongho while they both sit on the outside stairs of his dorm building, he can't help but think about you.

San doesn't think about you all too much if he was honest but...

It was weird.

The last time you were together, you were weird.

And San usually praises himself in being able to read people, no matter how dumb and aloof he sometimes acts because he doesn't want to acknowledge someone's feelings since it's simply easier, he wasn't able to read you last time. For once, you were a closed book and it was fucking weird.

At first, he really thought you had something going on with Yunho behind his back and were planning on ditching San so you could be with him. Dammit, even a month later and he still can't digest the fact that Yunho slept with you.

Thankfully, Yunho is as pure-hearted as they come for most part and was quick to reassure San that nothing is going on between you and him once he starts bringing the same girl more than once back to his room.

And since Yunho is that type of guy, you know...the relationship type, San can only assume that's his next girlfriend.

He doesn't even understand why he's worrying about it so much.

It's not like San would ever date you. You two would be a disaster together and he's nice enough to spare you of that.

But it's also not like he didn't enjoy your company during the last couple of months where you both started calling each other friends.

You were nice to be around.

If things were different and San wasn't...well, San then he could definitely see himself being very close friends with you.

The way you tease him and put him back in his place is funny sometimes, he enjoys the banter. It's refreshing.

Still, nothing explains why you ghosted him like that after he went back home for the holidays.

Were you trying to give him a taste of his own medicine? Because it wasn't pleasant, he always knew that it wouldn't be pleasant to be on the receiving end of it but it never stopped him from doing it to other people.

Well, it's not like San was losing sleep over you not texting back or something. He always had options.

It's just that you were his favorite one.

So after seeing his favorite one after a month of second-bests, he wasn't buying the excuse of you being busy or that you had an assignment due that made you leave so quickly.

God, he was starting to sound like one of his girls.

He stopped feeling embarrassed for that awhile back. Recently, he learned that he's attached to you.

Well, it's not recent per say. As he mentioned before, you were always the favorite one.

Too pretty, too rich and too untouchable for him not to make you his favorite.

But it wasn't just that anymore.

When you agreed on being 'friends', San expected it to be tedious but was quick to find out that it wasn't like that. At all.

You really were nice to be around. Not much like he expected you to be but San was always too quick to make his own conclusions.

So he can't help but be curious.

It's not a curiosity in the 'I-want-to-marry-you-and-give-you-babies' way, he's not sure he ever felt like that about anyone. But he's simply curious about you in a way that he's curious about Yeosang and Yunho.

He wants to know what they're up to and what they're doing from time to time. San thinks that is okay to want to know about you as well. It's safe.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Jongho's voice interrupts his train of thought. San turns to the younger boy just in time to see the teasing smile as Jongho nudges him with his elbow, "Is it a girl?"

San smirks faintly in amusement.

He liked Jongho.

San only knows him from the repair shop since Jongho started college just this year. He was reliable and simple. Minded his business and wasn't obnoxious as his previous co-workers.

Despite being a year younger than San, Jongho was so different when it came to girls and dating.

Jongho wasn't shy but he was definitely reserved. The complete opposite of San, actually. He seemed like a true gentleman. A knight in shinning armor looking for the right person. Looking for his one true love.

San would find it cute if he already didn't know how fucking naive it was.

Love never lasts.

"Uh, you know that girl that came to visit me in the repair shop that one time."

"A lot of girls came to 'visit' you at the repair show, San, you're going to have to be specific." When Jongho puts quotation marks on the word 'visit', San lightly punches his arm with a snort.

"Y/N." San adds, "The one with those little skirts."

Once the realization sets in on Jongho's face, San can't help but laugh. "Yeah, you remember her, you motherfucker. You were drooling an hour after she left."

It's moments like these when San feels pride that he has you because he knows that Jongho never will.

"Well, she's a looker. You can't blame me." Jongho defends himself and San laughs at the way his ears burn red.

"No, I cannot." San agrees.

"So, Y/N. You into her or something?" Jongho continues, the wrapper of the ice cream sandwich crinkling in his hand.

"Nah," San chuckles with a head shake, "It's not like that."

"Oh." Jongho muses with furrowed brows before they jump up high on his forehead and his eyes go wide as he smacks San's side, "Oh."

"Ow. What?" San whines, rubbing the spot he just hit.

"I forgot to tell you but I was planning to!" Jongho is quick to throw himself into a story and San turns to him intrigued, always up for a good anecdote from the younger boy, "I saw her on the day I drove you to the bus station. Twice actually, like how crazy is that."

"I didn't recognize her at first because it's been awhile since I last saw her but she was coming out of your building in a fancy dress and shit and then after I drove you to the station, I went to work out and was passing by the park and she was there with these huge ass suitcases, just standing-"

San flinches.

"Wait, wait wait." Jongho quiets down at San's serious tone and San feels something ugly curl in his stomach. "When did you say you saw her coming out of my building?"

Jongho stares at him in confusion, "Uh, when I went to pick you up to give you a ride."

San's mouth suddenly feels dry, the calculations doing themselves in his head as he stares at the younger boy in silence.

"This building? You saw her come out of this building?" San asks, pointing to his building entrance and Jongho nods, seemingly lost and not understanding why it was a big deal. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jongho nods and San wants the ground to swallow him whole.

"Are you a hundred percent sure it was this building and on that day?" He stresses and Jongho's eyes grow wide in confusion.

"Yes, it was this building. Your entrance." Jongho nods without a single doubt. "What's going on?"

And finally, the last piece of the puzzle clicks into place.

Why you ignored his text messages, why you slept with Yunho and why you were so fucking weird the last time you visited.

You heard. You fucking heard.

There's no way San was overthinking this.

He was in the fucking lounge with his bag prepared waiting for Jongho to pick him up when Yeosang and Yunho sat with him to hang out until it was time to go.

There's also no way San could forget that day because it was one of the biggest fights he had with Yeosang in awhile.

And since it was a fight, it was a given that they were loud. So loud that Yunho had to tell them to quiet down multiple times.

Holy fuck, you heard that.

You heard how San-...

He finally recognizes the ugly feeling festering in his stomach for what it really is. Guilt. It sinks to the bottom, heavy like a bag of rocks.

"Fuck." He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. "FuckFuckFuckFuck."

San thought about that fight with Yeosang for days when he was back home. He pondered over the words thrown around like they were nothing. He thought about the way he gave away something you told him in private. Something so personal and dark and he just gave it away because he can't control his fucking temper and lets words slip out when they're not supposed to just for the cause of him proving a point.

Now, San might not care all too much about you but he cares enough to know that this was a major fuck-up.

It would hurt anyone but it would hurt you a thousand times more because San and you have been through too much already.

“San, if you don’t mean that then don’t fucking say it.” Your bottom lip trembles, “I know I just fought with Wooyoung but I value my friendships more than anything so if you’re saying this because you feel bad then don’t say it.”

He opens his mouth but you’re quicker. “Because I’d rather have us be like this, like before,” When you would just fuck me and then insinuate that you want me to leave, you convince yourself that maybe that is just enough, “than be offered a friendship you don’t mean.”

San looks like he’s thinking for a long minute, “I do mean it.”

You face him with teary eyes and are met by his, now, gentle ones. “If I find out that you’re lying, then you’re as good as dead to me.”

"Fuck!" He jumps up from the spot on the stairs and pulls out his phone from his pocket, dialing your number and pressing 'Call'.

"San, what's going on-" Jongho's voice calls out as San moves to the entrance of the building.

"Uh, Jongho. I gotta go man, I'll talk to you later." He doesn't even pay mind to Jongho's goodbye.

The dial tone rings as San hurries past the small reception area. No response.

"Pick up the fuckin' phone, Y/N." He mutters dialing your number again only to be meet by the same response.

"San?" Yunho's voice calls from the decent arcade room they had set up in the building, Yeosang's head peeks out from behind him. "You good?"

The dial tone rings again and he's met with the same thing for the third time. No response.

He turns to respond to Yunho, "Uh, yeah-"

"Hey, San!" A guy carrying a parcel below his arm calls out from the entrance and San turns in confusion.

There's too much happening all at once and he's gripping his phone so hard it might break.

"What?" San calls out to the guy whose name he can't even remember.

"A guest!" The other guy waves him over, motioning to the taller guy standing next to him. "He's looking for you!"

"Wha-" San mutters confusedly, eyeing the taller guy as he starts walking in their direction back to the lobby.

San has never seen the guy in his life. Nobody comes to a fucking college dormitory dressed in a black suit and hair slicked back.

Did San fuck up his car in the repair shop or something?

As he nears closer, he greets the taller guy with a small, confused smile.

Once he's close enough, San can get a proper look at his face and he can't help but think he's seen the guy somewhere. Yup, definitely knows him.

His eyes, almond shaped with a familiar confident glint to them, too familiar but San just can't put his finger on it.

"Hey, man. What's up?" San nods at him in a proper greeting and the taller guy gives him an almost smirk. Once again, even the smirk is way too familiar.

Who the fuck was this guy?

"Hey." Taller guy nods back, pulling his hands out of the pockets of his expensive looking pants. "Are you Choi San?"

"That's me." San chuckles in response and it turns awkward when the guy doesn't move a muscle. Only seizes San up from head to toe.

"Hm." Taller guy muses out, "I expected you to be taller."

Okay, what the fuck.

San glances around, growing antsy by the second. Scratch that, he was antsy since you didn't respond to his first call, now he might be on the verge of a full blown panic attack,

"Uh, sorry, do I know you?" San's smile is still in tact but his brows are furrowed in confusion.

Taller guy just chuckles with a headshake. "No."

And then his fist is flying straight into San's fucking face and sending him toppling to the floor.

"What the fuck-" "San!" "Holy shit, somebody get him off-" "Dude, what the fuck-" "Get your hands off of me you-"

San really has no clue. It happened in a matter of seconds but all he knows is that he can taste blood from his bottom lip and his face hurts like a bitch.

After a long, hard second of catching his breath - he lets out a loud groan. "What the fuck!"

Yeosang and Yunho are crouched near San, trying to get him up on his feet while two of his dormmates are trying to hold down the other guy. Who San still doesn't have a single clue about.

"If you don't get your hands off of me in the next two seconds I'll have a lawsuit sent to your address by tomorrow." Taller guy hisses and his glare is actually threatening enough for Doyoung, a guy living in the apartment next to San's, to shrink into himself a little.

"What?!" Yunho snaps back at Taller Guy with a glare of his own, "Man, you can't come in here and assault someone and then threaten a lawsuit! What's wrong with you?!"

"Oh my God, San, are you okay?" Yeosang asks hurriedly and San hisses as a cold can is pressed to San's cheek.

"I'm fine." He grunts before turning back to Taller Guy who is still arguing with Yunho.

"Who the fuck are you?!" San exclaims loudly with a glare aimed at Taller Guy. "What's wrong with you, man!?"

"I'm-..." Taller Guy grunts until he's pushed off Doyoung and his roommate from himself. "I'm Y/N's older brother, you motherfucker!"

There's a way too long of a silence that stretches out.

"Shit." San croaks out, face hurting and nose probably broken. And, ah fuck, Y/N.

"Shit." Yeosang's face falls as he glances at San.

Seonghwa's eyes bounce left and right.

"Well...shit." Yunho sighs, throwing his hands up in the air and turning around to walk away.

San opens his mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing can exactly come out. He's not sure if it's because he just got the shit beaten out of him or if just knows there's no exact defense here.

Seonghwa seems absolutely bamboozled as he watches them and San can somewhat understand.

In front of Seonghwa, with his fancy suit and not a single hair out of place even after he broke San's nose, they really do all look pathetic. Ratty sweatpants and sneakers and San still on the floor and, well, bleeding.

Seonghwa sniffs in disdain before shaking his head, "Jesus Christ, she really knows how to pick 'em."

Yunho snorts somewhere behind San and if San's head wasn't hurting as much he'd turn around to glare at him.

"Look, man-" San starts with a sigh and Yeosang turns to him in warning.

"No, you look asshole." Seonghwa interrupts him taking a step towards them with a terrifying glare. "If I hear you're anywhere near my sister again, I'll break both of your fucking legs. Do you understand me? I have the money to get away with it."

San's blood boils beneath his skin at that as the utter humiliation sinks in and his hands clench into fists.

It's always about that, isn't it?

Money. Money. Money.

San doesn't have any so he's a fucking doormat to guys like this. Guys like your brother.

"Fuck you, man." San mutters underneath his breath with a glare, aware of everybody's eyes on them.

"San-" Yeosang hisses, gripping his biceps harder than needed.

"What the fuck did you just say-"

"I didn't do to your precious little sister nothing she didn't want me to." Here it goes again. That pride that tends to get him into deep shit all for the sake of proving a point.

"San, shut up." Yunho warns from behind him but San is too angry to care.

"Oh, she asked you to treat her like a piece of shit for two years?" Seonghwa asks angrily, grabbing San by the collar of his shirt as he crouches above him. "She asked you to air out her dirty laundry to your shitty little friends?"

Well, shit. Your brother knew more than he let on.

"Okay, how about we all just calm down-" Yeosang tries to diffuse the situation to his best ability. Your brother seems to not even want to fight all that much, all bark but no bite at this point. It's San that's the problem.

He is always the problem.

"She must've." San shrugs, smirking despite the ache in his face and the collar of his shirt tugging uncomfortably around his throat. "She was always coming back for more."

This time Yeosang is the first one to yell once your brother's fist connects with San's cheekbone.

San stares at the blank wall of the lounge room, holding a frozen bag of peas to his cheek.

It's been around half an hour since your brother left after the RA finally showed up with security in tow. And now, San is just sitting here blankly staring at the wall with Yeosang and Yunho sitting across from him.

Funnily enough, it's the exact same seating arrangement from the last time they were in this lounge and when you overheard what San said.

"San," Yeosang starts and San sighs immediately, "Are you okay?"

"It feels like I've been hit by a brick, Yeo, but I'm fine." Is San's response and he reaches out for his phone which Yeosang placed on the small coffee table having picked it off the floor of the lobby.

San's eyes start watering once he notices the cracks on the screen beyond repair. He curses internally.

Now, he's going to need money for a new phone. Money he doesn't fucking have.

"Maybe we should take you to the hospital-" It's Yunho.

"I'm fine." He says firmer this time, not looking at either of them. "Just fuckin' fine."

Since he doesn't have a phone, he can't call you.

What would he even say?

You know. You heard and you hate him.

Did you send his brother to beat San up? No, that isn't like you. Besides, San saw you a couple of days ago.

He had sex with you then for crying out loud. Why would you have sex with him if you knew what he said?

God, if your brother tells you what San said today...San shouldn't have said that. Fuck.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yeosang tries again, "Do you want me to go the pharmacy for-"

"Oh my fucking God, I'm fine!" San snaps and Yeosang flinches a little at the loud tone of his voice. "My head and neck fucking hurt and I want to drink until I can't feel my face at all but I'll be fine so just fuckin' stop!"

"San." Yunho softly scolds him and when San turns to the side to Yeosang, he feels like the biggest asshole in the world.

Timid, sweet Yeosang who only tried to help and now, San has to take his anger out on him because he didn't have the balls or the strength to take it out on Seonghwa.

San hates himself. He really does. He doesn't deserve anyone.

"I'm sorry." San whispers before grabbing his broken phone and the bag of peas and hurriedly leaving the lounge and heading towards their shared apartment.

His head is pounding as he walks up another flight of stairs towards their apartment and he's about to enter when a new voice stops him.

"San!" It's a freshman living three doors down from him. San doesn't know the kid but Jesus Christ, he's heard his own name yelled out so many times today that he's sick of it.

"Yeah?" He mutters, slowly turning towards the kid and if he's curious about San's bruises he doesn't ask.

"You got a letter." The boy says with a timid grin, shoving a white envelope into San's hand.

"What is it today?" San mutters to himself, staring at the envelope in bewilderment before bidding the kid goodbye and entering his apartment.

"A fuckin' letter." He's talking to himself now as he drags himself down the hallway to his room. "If this is a fuckin' scholarship rejection, I'll lose it."

But it's not a rejection letter.

San opens the door to his bedroom and steps inside, flipping the envelope over. He stops in his place from the sheer surprise when he reads the name in the left corner.

Park Y/N

Closing the door shut, he leans on it and with shaky and bruised hands rips open the envelope and pulls out the thin white paper hiding inside.

His eyes skim over the first line and San lets out a shaky laugh, before sliding down the door and to the floor.

Dear San,

I hope you know how much I hate you.

[berryunho]

taglist: @knucklesdeepmingi @atzcoke @kpopnightingale @ferrethyun @floatingpluto @wooandtaeluvr @atoz151 @belletiny @avantalem @marievllr-abg @some-distant-century @dysftopia @kodzukein @the-maze-of-books @dogsongy @calirix @sankatchu @elk-1998 @ghoekman @harusoraa @raspberryhong @marsattacks @actuallyalien @tomoonteez @bae4choi @babygurl-hoshi @not-everything-is-so-primative @superheros-and-others @dreams-in-progress-blog @uncoveredsun @realrya @hegdus @xnoelle127xx @aaaaa7on @nov4t33z @yang2sfishkeeper sorry everyone that can't be tagged i understand tumblr less and less as time goes on

THE ANSWER: The Pet

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 4,180 chapter warnings: ... murder. and descriptions of murder. hallucinations. panic attack (??) and just violence in general

Jongho doesn’t revel in the act of killing her.

No, in fact, he would much rather not be killing her. Haseul hasn’t done anything to deserve his wrath, nothing to deserve her life ended.

Other than being friends with the wrong girl. 

Really, this is no fault of the blonde in his arms, her blood flowing freely from the slit in her throat. He had tried to be humane. He holds her as she bleeds out, the front of her shirt blackening with the sickening flow of her blood supply. The blood flows all the way down her front, her arms long gone limp at her sides. Her fingers twitch and Jongho knows that she’s still alive, her life still ebbing out of her.

He’s sorry for her. Wrong place at the wrong time. Contrary to popular belief, Jongho actually doesn’t like killing innocent people. Of course, what someone considers to be innocent might not align with what Jongho thinks, but still. Haseul is, or, was, someone that would be seen as innocent by anyone looking into this scene.

He doesn’t feel guilty. If she had escaped, there would have been hell to pay. Literally. Everyone would’ve been killed. Jongho doesn’t know much about what happens after we die, but he expects that, if the Christains are right, he will burn for all eternity. As would most of the other followers. 

Really, Jongho’s only regret as Haseul’s body slumps completely in his arms is that (Y/n) isn’t here to see it. 

How he would love to look up at her from this position. If he thinks about it hard enough, he can picture her figure here, her face illuminated by the moon. The way it would contort in horror at the sight of her dead friend. The speed at which her eyes would fill with tears, the twisted sobs that would escape her.

Would she fall to her feet? Pull her friend off of Jongho’s lap, cover herself in the gore? Would she speak? Ask Jongho why? Why he did this, how he could hurt Haseul? Or would she stay frozen, unable to move? Would she look away, hide her face in her hands? Run away and cry to San? Hongjoong? 

Jongho scoffs into the silent night. He doesn’t care what her reaction would be, he only cares to see it first person. See the realization in her face when she knows that Jongho did this, Jongho killed her friend and dumped her body. 

But Jongho knows that that will never happen. He’d be lucky for her to ever even find out that her friend is dead. He can already hear San and Hongjoong and Seonghwa in his ears, insisting that (Y/n) never find out. It’s pathetic, really. Shouldn’t she know? Shouldn’t she understand what he can do?

For her credit, (Y/n) can be rather crafty sometimes. Jongho is sure that she’ll eventually figure out that Haseul is dead, and it will probably be sooner rather than later. He only hopes that he’s there when she puts the pieces together. 

A man can dream. 

He slides Haseul from his lap, dropping her onto the ground unceremoniously so that he can stand and assess the situation. 

She’s not twitching anymore. Jongho nudges one of her arms with the toe of his boot, folding it closer to her torso. Minimize the mess. 

His hands are fucking filthy. He tries to rub them on his thighs, but the fabric is too wet already to accept blood. If anything, his hands get grimier when he wipes them, the blood smearing across his palms, seeping into the lines of his hands. The stickiness is almost nauseating for him, the feeling of her sticking to him like tacky glue. 

It’s okay. He takes a few deep breaths, thinking about the feeling of the cold night’s air on his skin and that he’ll be able to take a shower as soon as he takes care of her. There’s no use panicking now, not when there’s still work to be done. He can’t. 

It is a bit funny, though. Is it really just a coincidence that this girl’s name is Haseul? Or is there some higher power at play? Some punishment coming for him that he should’ve expected a long time ago? 

He blinks down at the girl, jumping back when he sees her face instead of the Haseul’s. The gravel crunches under his feet as he takes steps back, the wet rocks making a sickening grinding sound. Jongho blinks faster, his breath coming harder and harder when her face doesn’t change. 

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fu—

He closes his eyes completely, resting a hand on his chest in an attempt to control his breathing. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, focusing on the expansion of his lungs under his palm. It’s not real. He knows that it isn’t real. He knows that he didn’t kill her, even if, in a way, he had. This is Haseul. (Y/n)’s friend. Not her. Never her. 

He peeks his eyes open hesitantly at first, but fully once he realizes that Haseul is, once again, Haseul. Jongho sighs, blinking tears out of his eyes that he hadn’t been aware of. 

The approach of the truck really pulls him back to his senses as he has to shield his eyes to the headlights. 

That’ll be Hongjoong, he assumes. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Jongho isn’t entirely sure why San appears after Hongjoong leaves. He supposes its possible that Hongjoong grabbed him to make him help with the cleanup, considering it’s his fault that there’s even a mess for cleaning. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t really matter to Jongho. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to get rid of her himself.

San is always squeamish about the dismemberment, though. 

Unfortunately, pigs don’t really feast upon entire corpses. They have to be broken down to more manageable pieces. To Jongho, it’s no different than processing any carcass, but… yeah, he can see how it could be gross. 

“Come to help?” Jongho asks, kneeling again at Haseul’s side. He’s been trying to figure out the best way to move her, as he didn’t bring a tarp or any rope out with him. Stupid. Should’ve asked Hongjoong, no matter how pissy he was. 

San won’t even look at her, keeping his head turned pointedly upward, as he approaches the pair. 

“Hongjoong said I have to,” San still doesn’t look, swallowing hard, “He knows I hate this shit.” 

Jongho chuckles, the thighs of his jeans starting to stick to his thighs as he shifts on his knees, “Shouldn’t have let her go, then.” 

San scoffs, finally at least looking at Jongho. “As if that wasn’t the fucking plan? It couldn’t have gone any fucking smoother for him.” He finally glances down at Haseul, wincing as he does so. “Christ, what did you do to her?” 

The irony of the comment almost makes Jongho laugh. “You act like you’ve never seen someone with their throat slit before, Sannie. Weren’t you there whe—”

“Shut up, Jongho.” San takes a few more steps forward, stepping into the pooled blood. 

It’s Jongho’s turn to scoff as he stands, smiling at the audacity of San’s anger. “What? I can’t talk about the blood on your little girlfriend’s hands?” In all honesty, Jongho doesn’t want to think about her, not right now. Not when he just saw her face on the dead girl’s body and not when San is clearly in the mood to shove his fingers in his wounds. But he can’t stop himself, his emotions toward (Y/n) are too hot to keep inside. Too much to not taunt San with. 

“(Y/n) had literally nothing to do with her. If you want to be mad at someone, you should be mad at Hongjoong." San’s voice rises, defending her so fiercely that Jongho almost laughs again. As if San has any idea what (Y/n) did or didn’t do to her. 

“A little defensive, don’t you think? Already attached?” Jongho tries to wipe his hands on his thighs, though, again, this does nothing for the mess on them. “You really shouldn’t speak on something that you know nothing about.” 

San’s lips twitch upward, as if against his will. “All I’m saying is that it’s unfair to (Y/n) for you to blame her for something she knows nothing about.”  

He raises his eyebrows, “That’s funny logic. Do you think she won’t blame you for Haseul’s death when she finds out about it? Even if she doesn’t ever learn that you were here tonight, who does she think was the last person to see her alive? You’ll ‘know nothing’ and yet…”

San steps over Haseul, closing the distance between himself and Jongho. He grabs the front of his shirt, glaring down ever so slightly, “You’re a little fucking degenerate, you know that?”

Jongho shoves San away, blood soiling the front of his button down, “I’m the degenerate? For, what, exactly? Killing people that pose a threat to us? Our way of life? What are you, in that case?” 

“I don’t know what you think you’re alluding to, Jongho,” San swallows, his voice hard, “but you won’t speak a word of any of this to (Y/n).”

“Or what? You’ll tell on me?” Jongho scoffs, sticking his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, “Go ahead. I’m not scared of Hongjoong, and I’m sure he would just love to hear about how deeply you apparently care about her and her opinion of you.” 

San stares back at Jongho, blood seeping into his shoes as he stands in the puddle. “You’re seriously out of touch if you’re not scared of him, Jongho.” Silence lingers between them as Jongho stares back at San, considering his statement. 

Jongho isn’t afraid of Hongjoong because he has nothing to lose. There’s nothing that he could do to hurt him, besides��� well, torture, he guesses, but that wouldn’t be as bad as what’s already happened. 

He shakes his head, clearing his mind and his throat, “Whatever. Just help me with the body. And stop whining about (Y/n).”

“You’re the one that brought her up in the first place,” San grumbles, but squats to help Jongho anyhow. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Jongho slams his door shut behind him, not bothering to lock it before making his way to his bathroom. He had managed to get inside and all the way upstairs without anyone seeing him, thankfully. Though he’ll have to remember to wipe down the surely bloodied door handles he touched, he’s fairly confident that there is little to no evidence that he had been out, just the way that Hongjoong likes it. 

Except for the dead body in the pig sty and the blood on his hands. But both of those things will be taken care of soon enough. And the average Follower will be none the wiser. 

It’s funny, Jongho thinks, their way of seeing things. And Hongjoong’s way of making them see things. Killing people in the name of ceremony, in the name of sacrifice is completely okay to them, because Hongjoong says so. But oh no, no, they can’t possibly know about the ‘senseless’ killing that goes around. As if it all isn’t senseless. 

Nausea churns in his stomach as he enters his bathroom, turning the faucet on and starting to rinse his hands. The water is cold, freezing even. He doesn’t care, rubbing his hands together and watching the water turn red. The blood had started to dry on his skin, caking into the crevices of his palms and knuckles. He knows from experience that his nails are a lost cause. 

Once his hands are relatively clean, he grabs a washcloth, wetting it under the running water as he finally looks up at himself in the mirror. 

The mess is… just about as he expected. There’s blood on his face, dripping down his neck. His shirt is a lost cause, and he’s sure that there will be a faint residue when he peels it off. Jongho scrubs at his face and neck with the cloth, turning his face every angle he can manage. He rubs until his skin is raw, the sensation of the abrasion enough to keep him from panicking. 

Which he won’t do. Not Jongho. Not after making it all night. He makes eye contact with his reflection, sneering at the state of himself. What would she have thought? Would she have been scared of him? Scared of the dog? The errand boy? 

Jongho likes what he is. Likes his purpose. Likes his responsibilities and his roles. Before them, he was lost. He was the other, the weirdo, the freak… except to her. She loved him. Or, at least, she told him as much. But Jongho can’t believe that she would still love him like this. If she had seen him at his full potential, she would’ve been scared of him. She wouldn’t have felt safe in his arms or kissed his forehead or brushed his hair or, or, or anything. 

Not that he thinks he deserves it. If he were an outsider looking in, he would probably be afraid of himself, too. Hell, half the time he is scared of himself. Scared of the pleasure, scared of the joy, scared of the rush of power and scared of the high of the kill. And yet… 

“Fuck this,” he turns away from the mirror, beginning to unbutton his shirt. He has to peel the fabric away from his skin, the shirt so thoroughly soaked with blood that it clings to him. The sound is sickening. 

He drops the shirt to the floor, not bothering to care about where it will land. Tile is easy enough to clean. Wiping his dirtied hands on the washcloth he holds, he steps out of the bathroom. He throws the towel behind him as he hurries into his bedroom, his eyes set on his target.

The Answer sits on his bedside table, where he left it before going out. 

He checks his hands one more time, flipping them over and around to make sure that all of the blood is gone. He wouldn’t dare touch this copy with bloodied hands. He already touches it more than he should, the holy thing that it is. His hands don’t deserve to feel its weight, but…

Jongho picks up the text when he’s satisfied, already feeling relieved. The leather cover feels familiar in his hands, the texture welcoming him back. He opens the cover, his heart clenching at the inscription on the endsheet.  

"For KIM HANEUL: if you ever need any guidance… CHOI JONGHO"

He was stupid.

He flips the first few pages, finding her first mark on the book. Jongho knows her annotations better than the text they’re in, but the blue ink still strikes him. On the first page, she had underlined one word: connection. What it had meant to her, he’s not sure. He wishes he could ask. 

Jongho remembers her like she had died yesterday rather than over a year ago. He can picture her now, dozing on his bed with this exact book over her face, blocking out the sunlight. She always took naps here, on top of the covers, insistent that this time she wouldn’t fall asleep. Her pens would always roll out of her hands, falling onto the ground and clattering in that terrible plastic-y way that always reminded Jongho of lecture halls and final exams.

He would watch her sleep, even if that’s a little creepy. He would watch her breathing, counting her respirations, even. He would watch her fingers twitch in her sleep. He would shut the blinds as tight as he could before lifting the book off of her face, setting it on her nightstand. He would cover her with a blanket he kept in his closet for this exact occasion, so that he didn’t have to pull any out from under her. 

His stomach rolls as he looks at his bed, the covers undisturbed. He hadn’t taken that blanket out of his closet since the last time he folded and placed it there. He couldn’t bear to look under his bed in case a stray pen still lingered. 

Jongho doesn’t hold a grudge against Hongjoong or even Seonghwa. He knows that they had to do it, had to kill her. He couldn’t have been him if she had always been here. And… clearly (Y/n) is the one most at fault. She took Haneul’s spot. If Hongjoong had never found her, never stalked her and decided that he had made a mistake (or, rather, that the Guardians had guided him wrong), Haneul would probably still be alive. 

Or, maybe not. But what Jongho doesn’t understand won’t keep him awake at night. 

What will is the remembrance of her touch, the way that she laughed with her whole body, and the fact that she only brushed her teeth with bubblegum toothpaste. The late nights and the special requests on town outings and the books that she read and the role that she was perfectly willing to fulfill. 

What would be if she was still here? Would the Sign be here already? Would the Guardians be gone? Does Jongho even believe in that bullshit? He has no fucking clue. 

All he knows is that he loves Hongjoong. He worships him, praises him, accepts him as his God. Though he’s not scared of him and doesn’t particularly respect him as a man… Yeah. He knows that none of it makes sense. But it does to him. 

When he’s sure that he’s backed away from the precipice of his panic attack, he sets the book back down onto the nightstand, taking care to drop it gently. 

It’s unlike him to panic after killing, but it’s not unlike him to have the occasional hallucination. He just simply hadn’t been expecting the two to converge. That would be enough to send anyone into a spiral, right? 

Whatever validation he’s looking for, Jongho doesn’t get it. He glances around his bedroom once more, as if expecting Hanuel to walk in through the door at any second. Maybe he is.

He turns back into the bathroom, walking with a purpose to turn the shower on. He finishes undressing and hops in, not waiting for the water to warm up. 

A small part of him wonders what San walked into when he returned to his own apartment as he starts scrubbing at his skin once more. Had (Y/n) been awake? Hah, wouldn’t that have just been the event of the evening? Jongho hopes that she was awake, that she saw his bloodied clothes and sullied hands. He hopes that she’ll see San for what he is. Maybe that could get her scared enough to run again? Scared enough to take him up on his offer? 

How he would love to catch her in the fields. To play a little game of cat and mouse, to hear her shrieks as his hands landed on her. How lovely would it be to wrestle her to the ground, to wrap his hands around her throat and apply his body weight. How sweet to feel her hands claw at him, to have her nails scratch his face and draw blood. How intoxicating to watch as her face became redder and redder until it went pale, to watch her eyes go from full of life to rolled back away into her skull. 

And he wouldn’t let go, no. He would stay there until he was sure that she was dead, not an inkling of life remaining in her. Assuming she has no special training, she should be dead within seven minutes. He could sit there for seven minutes. Gladly. He would enjoy every second of it. 

Would he feel better after killing her? He’s not entirely sure. But that’s not the point, anyways. 

So he hopes that (Y/n) was awake. He hopes that San has to make up some shit cover on the spot and fails. 

…But that’s unlikely and Jongho knows it. It’s quite late at night, and there’s not really much that she could’ve been doing to keep herself entertained. 

And, per Hongjoong’s orders, he obviously can’t touch her. 

No matter how bad it gets, no matter how angry he is or how badly he wants her to hurt like he did… it can’t happen. He can’t let himself lose control with her. All he can do is wait. And hope. That Hongjoong casts her aside like he cast away Haneul. If that happens, surely he would let Jongho have his way, right?

After everything, he owes him that mercy. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Hongjoong had Seonghwa kill Haneul.

He never would’ve asked Jongho to do it himself. Though, typically, that was the sort of thing that he did.

Hongjoong honestly hadn’t had a particular reason to kill her. He just… didn’t think she belonged, anymore. She was loyal to him, but… it felt that she was more loyal to Jongho. And, for that, she had to be punished. The devotion between lovers is strong, Hongjoong knows that, but he felt that, without Jongho, Haneul would leave. 

He had to be sure that the opposite wasn’t true as well. He needed a dependent Jongho. He needed a loyal Jongho. He needed a cruel Jongho; he needed a motivated Jongho. He was sure that this would get him there.

Of course, there was also the issue of (Y/n). She was clearly the one. And there couldn’t be two of ‘the one,’ now could there?

When he had marked Haneul for ascension, Jongho’s jaw had dropped. There was a disbelief that Hongjoong thinks he held until the moment she was in (on?) the ground. He didn’t seem to process any of it; nothing past the original announcement.

Hongjoong had expected begging. He had expected pleading. But he didn’t get it. He watched as Jongho and Haneul spent their last days together, an air of freedom about the two of them that he hadn’t anticipated. They seemed happy enough.

Though he doesn’t completely understand the whims and desires and emotions of love, he thought he understood why they acted the way that they did. Haneul was devoted to the Answer, she was happy to be chosen to ascend, even if that wasn’t what had originally been planned for her. Jongho was happy that she was happy. He wanted her last days on earth to be the best that he could be, so he wouldn’t let her see his pain. Hongjoong supposed that it made sense. 

The day of her death, Hongjoong had expected a snap. 

One didn’t come, though. Seonghwa delivered the news to Jongho, the finality that she was gone. He didn’t ask to see her body. He just nodded his head and excused himself from the room. Hongjoong still wonders what he did when he left, wonders if he wept and asked a different God how this could happen.

He doesn’t think so. Jongho had never wavered in his loyalty, not even for a moment.

And for that, he was rewarded. With his free reign. Jongho essentially gets to do anything that he wants without threat of repercussion, something that no one else enjoys the privilege of. Part of it is the fact that Jongho is like himself, but the devotion is also quite reassuring. 

Jongho could easily manipulate his own group of people into clinging onto his every word, and yet he doesn’t. Instead, he follows Hongjoong and does his bidding. Isn’t that just sweet? Just darling? You kill a man’s love and he becomes nothing but devoted to you. 

Hongjoong’s sure that isn’t the case for everyone, but it sure is convenient that whatever is fucked in Jongho’s head also made him fucked in that regard as well. 

One thing Hongjoong hadn’t been counting on was Jongho’s attitude toward Hanuel’s successor. It annoys him, honestly, the fact that he didn’t foresee the emotions that Jongho would harbor for (Y/n). Emotions. Ugh. Anger is one that he gets, the desire for revenge and the sadism especially, but he can’t very easily predict other people’s emotions. A disgruntling fact. 

Jongho’s hatred for (Y/n) throws a wrench in the works. As sure Hongjoong is that Jongho is completely under his control… he knows what it’s like to be angry enough to kill. He knows what the desire for revenge can do to a person like them. He’s not sure that he could stop Jongho if (Y/n) were to set him off completely one day. 

And that’s a threat. A threat to everything. He can’t lose either one of them, and yet it seems less and less likely that they’ll be able to peacefully coexist.

A problem for later, frankly. While losing Jongho would be inconvenient, losing (Y/n) would be a disaster. He knows who he would pick if it came down to it. 

But it won’t. Surely, it won’t.

Jongho listens like the pet he is. 

← previous || next → || masterlist

[prettyheung]

woosansang parts of your heung series are crazy (in a good way!!) i really enjoyed reading them, looking forward to reading next members’ chapters, have a nice day 🖤

thank you for such kind words!! i'm so glad you enjoyed them :3

and yep stay tuned for the next parts haha, hope you'll like them as much as woosansang's ^^

have a great day too! <3

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role - ACT XI (C.S; S.MG)

title; you know i’d rather walk alone than play a supporting role, if i can’t get the starring role

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader

warnings: angst! errrr idk what else, cursing??? drinking???

wc: almost 22k

taglist:  @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwamourr @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke  @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny @kpopnightingale  @raineadlr @ilikepalta @m4rsluv  @smimingi @bubbleteakittyy  @mingkiyoo @theactresstarringinurbadreams  @mangishii @cryingaboutskz @pr1ncessm1ng1   @layzfeelit   @khjssss @rdiamond2727 @adajoemaya  @outrologist @smuchsmut @flaminghotcheetoos @dogsongy @seesaw-jk  @seojonneh @hyukssunflower @haatohwa @wonwowzers @downbadreading @moonchele @leeknowsnothing  @noone356097 @raspberryhong  @xciiiomwliah  @belle643 @doom-fics  @cutesince2000 @ad0rechuu @miriamxsworld @plants-w0rld  @lilactangerine @maru-matt @ateezourstars​

buy me a coffee!

act x / masterlist /

a/n: well....here it is guys, this is the last chapter i never thought we’d make it here but look at us now..who would’ve thought!!!! but on a serious note, i want to thank everyone who stuck by my side while writing this and giving amazing feedback and contributing to the fun discussions we’ve been having, i had a blast! <3 i started this story a little less than a year ago and i wanted to write it for the longest time, so thank you truly and from the bottom of my heart for joining me on this ride!

“To by held above the earth and be brushed by the wind," she said, "it's like your heart has been kissed by beauty.” ― Wendelin Van Draanen, Flipped

It's hard not to stare.

The conversation that goes around the table during the appetizers is vapid, the two businessmen are taking subtle jabs at each other's expenses, their bored wives are not so subtly ogling the two waiters that are assigned to your table and the younger men sitting at your table (him included). Shallow conversations served with the only purpose of showing off who has more of what and so on and so on.

Two years ago, this was your territory. The exaggerated delight when speaking about vacations you've been to, talking up your family like you don't all hate each other one way or another and pretending you actually enjoy the presence of your company. Now, you feel awfully out of place.

The times when you were at the top of the food chain are long gone because at this table right here; you are the lowest rank. The weakest player. The artist invited for their amusement because they don't take you seriously, not really. The jester.

You learn pretty quickly into the night that you were never brought here from your boss' good grace to help you sell your art, it's for her to be able to show off the new addition to her company even if it is temporary (after this, you know it will be). Look at this new shiny, pretty little thing I have everyone. Isn't she just the cutest?

That's why it's hard not to stare.

Choi San sits opposite of you, just a couple of seats down and looks like he's completely in his element and it's mindboggling because you don't think you've ever seen him like this.

You always found him charming, good looks paired with pretty words and a smooth voice but here...it's a completely different game. The other two younger guys whose names you didn't bother to remember, seem to wait for his every word with a bated breath, the men laugh at his jokes and the women swoon at the charming grin. He is charismatic and everybody seems to be under his spell. Even you find yourself pressing your lips together to stop from smiling at an occasional quip that comes from him.

It's infuriating.

You're the outsider despite growing up in these people's circles and running around fancy restaurants since you were a toddler but Choi San...well, he fit right in.

You don't miss the way he smiles that godforsaken smile at the wife of one of the younger businessmen here. She's gorgeous and on the younger side which isn't surprising since her husband seems barely forty. She seems to be in her mid-30s though and tries to hide her flustered smile by taking a sip of the red wine in front of her.

A breathless chuckle escapes you as your eyes fall from the obvious (and fucking shameless) flirting done by both of them all while her husband is sitting right next to her but is too busy to notice because he's currently in a dick measuring contest with the others.

All that time that San spent making jabs at your wealth and the rich people you were surrounded with, only for him to land in the middle of that same table that he judged you for not even two years later.

A fucking comedy is what this is.

"I need some fresh air." You mumble to particularly no-one but one of the younger guys that seem to have come here with San and has also been laying it on pretty thick to you the entire night, is the only one to notice. When he offers to go with you, you're quick to decline.

The terrace of the restaurant is gorgeous and you feel yourself sigh once you're presented with the wide view of the city in front of you and the cool evening air enveloping you. You figure you still have some time before the main course and it's almost tempting to just spend it all here.

Your heart can't stop rattling in your chest despite it being almost an hour and a half since the short introduction between you and San and you grip the banister tightly with your hands as you try to keep your thoughts in check.

It's not even a big deal that he's here. The introduction was the only exchange between the two of you and so far, the night has been going well. It will be a bust business wise but at least you will get a free fancy meal out of it.

And San...he was acting normal. Whatever the new normal was for him. So yeah, it's not even a big deal that he's here.

"So we have to introduce ourselves to each other now?" A voice quietly says and you freeze at the sound of footsteps until he's standing by your side and his elbow is brushing yours. "Is that what we are now, Y/N? Strangers?"

He's here. And it's a big fucking deal.

You're gripping the banister so tightly that your knuckles turn white but with the utmost grace, you utter; "I don't see what else we could be."

"That's..." He starts before giving you a nod, "Fair."

He pulls something from the pocket of his slacks and you don't give into the curiosity to check what it is until he leans over to you.

An opened pack of cigarettes is presented to you and you glance at it for a second in contemplation before sighing and reluctantly pulling one out before placing it between your lips. After the night you've had, might as well.

He's quick to offer you a light and you take a drag in and exhale as you turn to mirror his position so your back is leaning on the banister and you're observing the people inside the restaurant rather the view.

San takes a cigarette out for himself, lighting it up in similar fashion as he did for you and takes a drag, exhaling with a soft sigh.

"How have you been?"

You scoff out a short, barely there laugh, "What do you want?"

San's head turns to observe you and you will yourself to just keep staring forward.

"Nothing." He responds quietly and you roll your eyes. "I don't want anything. I'm just...just trying to make conversation."

A silence engulfs you as you both take a couple of drags from the cigarettes and watch it get turned into ashes. You watch your figures in the glass in front of you and can notice him glancing at you one too many times.

"Listen, I'm-"

"I don't want your sorry's." You're quick to interrupt him but he's quick to reply back.

"I wasn't gonna say I'm sorry." Your head whips to him for the first time, brows furrowed in insult. He sighs, eyes falling shut for a moment before the flutter open again and meet yours, "Well, okay, you got me there. There is something I was going to say I'm sorry for."

Your frown doesn't move but you don't say anything otherwise so he takes it as a chance to continue. "You told me something in confidence and I-..."

"San." You warn him and uttering his name out loud causes a shiver to run up your spine.

"No. And I couldn't keep my mouth shut because I'm an idiot that let my frustrations get the best of me. And I'm sorry, Y/N, it was a shitty thing to do and you didn't deserve that." He takes a deep breath, "I never promised you much, we both knew what it was between us from the start but I did promise to keep your secrets safe and I failed at that. I know an apology might not mean shit now and I'm not saying it because I expect forgiveness but because you deserve an apology. I'm really sorry."

You stare up at him, chest heaving up and down as you watch him. He's right, you're not going to forgive him...so what now? What do you do and what do you say?

"Kind of weird to apologize here of all places." You comment stoically.

"Don't know when I'll ever see you again." San says back in almost a whisper.

Almost angrily, at yourself and at him, you take another drag from the cigarette before your eyes fall back on your table inside the restaurant. The woman San was subtly flirting with is laughing with her husband now.

You respond back in the only way you know how when it comes to talking to San. Women.

"You've moved on from unsuspecting college girls to older women now?" You ask, flicking your cigarette and taking another drag.

At the look of confusion he gives you, you nudge your head to the direction of the table you both have shared for the majority of the night. He follows your gaze and the realization sets in.

"Oh," He chuckles, one dimple showing as he glances at you. "She's cute."

"She's also married." You grit out quietly, quickly looking around to make sure no-one else hears.

San's brows furrow and his lips are pressed to stop himself from smiling as he leans over to you as if to let you in on a little secret, "Not happily married."

You scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically as you look away from him. He chuckles again.

"It's them who make the first move, never me." San clarifies, smile dimming, "I may be a lot of things but not a homewrecker."

"That is still being a homewrecker, San."

"That home has been wrecked a long time ago, princess."

You shake your head, keeping your judgement to yourself but the curiosity is still there.

What has Choi San been up to these past two years? While you were in Paris shutting yourself off from anyone and everything to focus on your art, what was he doing?

"Them who make the first move?" You repeat in disbelief, turning to him again and you place your done cigarette in the ashtray before crossing your arms and now the judgement is very obvious, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who's chasing after older women now."

San presses his lips together.

"Seriously? Did you completely skip the co-worker phase?"

His brow quirks up in thought, "Hm, funnily enough I don't think I've ever slept with a co-worker." You shake your head at him again and are about to open your mouth to scold him but he continues deep in thought, "Does a boss' wife count as a co-worker?"

Your jaw drops at the genuine question and you have to turn your head to the side just so he won't notice the fact that you're holding back laughter, still a snort escapes you. "Jesus."

At that, San lets out a short, husky laugh as well, seemingly unbothered as he takes another drag from his cigarette.

Same old San.

There is still so much left unsaid between the two of you. So much pain and anger, pure rage, so much sadness that is kept bottled away and so many memories repressed but in that moment...well, you are fucking nosy! Sue you!

"You slept with your boss' wife?!" You whisper yell at him with wide eyes, horrified yet equally amused and if that makes you a horrible person then so be it.

"She-" He tries to explain but you're already shaking your head in judgement, "No, hey, listen listen. She came onto me-"

"And you just couldn't resist, could you?"

His brows furrow in defense, "Hey, my boss is a dick."

You both fall into a silence after that, a summer breeze coasting over and you watch the guy who's been flirting with you the entire night stand up and step away from the table.

"Hey, you know that guy?" You ask San, nodding towards the tall figure walking away.

"Jaehyun?" He responds back and at your nod, "We work together. Why?"

"Can you tell him to lay off? He keeps mentioning drinks at some bar after this and I'm not interested."

San frowns, jaw clenching, "He made you uncomfortable?"

You snort, "Please, he's harmless but I'm just not interested."

"Okay, I'll let him know." He nods before turning around, hands finally free of the cigarette and placed on the banister. He glances at you again after a moment of silence. "So...are you seeing...anyone?"

You tense a little at that. "Yeah."

His gaze is glued to the side of your face.

"Good." San nods, "That's good."

You shrug, not really wanting to talk about it. Not because it's San but because...you just don't want to think about your relationship with Mingi right now despite it being at the forefront of your mind at all times.

Noticing the waiters start walking to your tables with trays of food, you straighten out as well. "Looks like the food is here."

San looks over his shoulder with raised eyebrows and reluctantly straightens out his posture, as if he's not ready to go back inside. Hm. It's seems like San wasn't exactly in his element back there, just a good actor.

You're the first to move towards the glass door but he's quick to stop you.

"Uh," A hand wraps around your elbow and you turn to him in confusion, freeing yourself from his gentle hold. San clears his throat before handing you a small white card. "Here. Have it...for, I don't know...Just in case."

You stare at the business card, a fancy name of a firm that you'd probably know if you were in his field of work, printed at the top with San's contact info below.

With a nod, you simply take the card and tuck it into your handbag.

San motions for you to go first, holding the door open for you and you walk pass him without a word.

The moment you both shared outside, seemingly broken the moment you both join the same table again.

Dinner lasts close to another two hours and the moment one of the couples stands up to leave, bidding their goodbyes - you are quick to follow after them, hurriedly wishing everyone a good night while avoiding San's eyes and leaving the hall.

You don't even mind the five minutes you spend outside waiting for a cab.

Not telling anyone that you've seen San doesn't feel like a big deal this time. You're not on speaking terms with Wooyoung so he doesn't have the right to expect shit from you and Mingi...well, that's a whole other story.

You don't see Mingi through the week as much because you're busy with work that's piling on since your job at the book publishing company is soon coming to an end as your sketches start getting finalized and Mingi is sent out to some conference to Busan for three days.

On Thursday, when he texts you in the morning that he is back -  you buy some take-out and walk to his place after work.

And yeah, you might kiss a little first. Okay, a lot.

But you haven't seen him in nearly a week and it's hard not to straddle him on his couch and lick into his mouth when he's so pliant and needy underneath you. Even if something tells you that the relationship with Mingi and you isn't exactly right, you still like him.

It's almost easy to forget it all when he kisses you, big warm hands trailing under your shirt and brushing across your lower back as you pull him closer by the back of his neck.

After a make-out session that lasts definitely longer that it almost turns into something else, you break apart and through giggles and hushed conversation, move over to the kitchen to prepare the food.

Mingi is such a guy sometimes. His glasses are all dusty in the cupboards since he mostly drinks everything out of bottles or mugs, so you take two and quickly foam them up to wash them so they can be used for your early dinner.

"I missed you," He sighs, leaned against the counter as he watches you with his arms crossed. "The conference was so fucking boring."

You laugh lightly, water splashing around, "I thought you'd take it as an opportunity to catch a break from me. I've been at your place more than I was at my own before you left."

Mingi shakes his head with a hum.

He walks over to the sink and wraps his arms around you. "If it didn't sound insane, I would tell you to move in."

Carefully setting the glasses in the dish strainer beside the sink, you tilt your head enough to kiss his jaw. "Is that something you want? Or is that something your dick suggested loudly enough for your ears to hear?"

He hums, slightly amused and turns his head so he can bite your chin. "Are you accusing me of thinking with my dick, pretty girl?" He murmurs playfully.

"Yes I am." You hum pleasantly at the nip and lean into his arms "Am I wrong?"

"Only partially." He kisses up your jaw and bites your ear next. "But there's also the fact that I want to spend time with you. All that I can. Two years to make up for."

He leans his forehead against your temple, swaying both of your bodies lightly to the tune coming from the radio set up in his kitchen and you want to smile, want to enjoy it but something isn't letting you.

Two years to make up for.

It's the first time he mentioned anything regarding that time, even if he wasn't doing so directly right now either.

Suddenly, standing in his arms feels suffocating. Any other day, you would want nothing more than to be like this with him but now, it's like there is a bag of rocks sitting in your chest and constricting your airways every time he gets too close.

You shuffle away, pretending like you're focusing on preparing the take-out you both bought and Mingi doesn't seem to notice your awkwardness as he simply starts pulling out plates and utensils from his cupboards.

Now might not be the best time but...you should tell him about San, shouldn't you? You've been weighing out the pros and cons all weekend, the white business card feeling like a thorn stuck in your hand every time you catch a glimpse of it laying on your drawing desk.

If you add another thing to the list of things you haven't spoken to Mingi about, it would only make matters worse.

You should tell him. He deserves to know and it's not like you have anything to hide.

"Hey, you remember that dinner party I had on Friday?" You ask, trying your best to seem nonchalant about it.

"Oh, yeah!" Mingi exclaims, "How did that go? You make any money?" He asks jokingly as he moves past you to get the drinks from the fridge.

"No, no, it kind of sucked actually." You reply with a chuckle and quickly jump in to explain once you notice him turn around to look at you with a frown. "They weren't really there for my art, I was just there to be my boss' accessory I guess but it's whatever."

"Wait, wha-"

You sigh, smiling at him. "It's not a big deal. I mean, selling a piece or two would've been nice but at least I got free food out of it," You turn your back to him to wash your hands, "but that's not why I brought it up."

"....okay." Mingi is properly confused now, leaning on the counter.

You take a deep breath.

"San was there."

It's almost funny how quickly the entire mood of the apartment changes.

Mingi stares at the counter with a stoic expression on his face as he drags his fingers slowly over the clean surface.

"San." He repeats with pursued lips and you swallow.

"Yeah." You continue lightly, trying to uplift the mood that you successfully brought down, "He-...well, we talked and he gave me his business card and-"

"You took his business card?" Mingi questions in faint disbelief and you stare at him, stopped mid sentence and with your mouth parted.

"Well, I didn't really think much about it-"

"Of course." He chuckles, tongue peeking out to lick the corner of his lip before he turns to you with crossed arms, leaning against the counter again. He has that almost sarcastic smile that reminds you of how he treated you when you first met him. "So what, are you going to be attending more dinner parties with him or will you just straight up start seeing him again? Like good old times, huh."

He's being passive aggressive in a way that only Song Mingi knows how to be. Because his thing is to never outright be an asshole. He instead tiptoes around it because he's too smart and too fucking noble but it doesn't change the end goal, which is to, without a doubt, be a condescending asshole no matter how much he's trying to lessen the blow.

"It's just a business card, Mingi." You explain quietly and he chuckles humorlessly with a shake of his head.

"It's never 'just' anything with you and San, Y/N." He easily says back and your mouth turns downwards as your brows furrow in slight hurt.

"If you're saying you think I slept with him or something, then I'm here to tell you right now that's not-"

"No, of course I don't think that." Mingi quickly defends before pausing with a quick glance thrown your way, "But usually when something like this happens, it's not far from it."

You take a step back at that, the linoleum cold under your bare feet. "Excuse me?"

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair as you silently stare at him with furrowed eyebrows.

You decide to speak because he didn't look like he was planning to.

"We just talked a little bit, y'know...he apologized and that was it. I took the card because...well, I already told you; I don't know. I just took it because he was offering it." You quietly explain trying to remain calm despite the storm brewing in your chest. "I didn't plan on using it or anything."

Mingi chews on his lower lip while staring at you before chuckling humorlessly.

"I don't believe you." He whispers with another head shake and you face falls in hurt, "I mean, is it that easy to forgive him? After everything he's done? It's that easy for him?"

And that's where your nerves start getting grated.

Certain words are at the tip of your tongue but you refrain yourself from using them, wanting to see how far will he go. Instead;

"Forgive him? Who said anything about forgiving him?" Your voice slightly raises, "I just said I don't plan on using his number. I don't plan on calling him, Mingi."

Something in your brain tells you that it's wrong to have to explain yourself to him like this.

"And I just told you that I don't believe you and you know why I don't believe you?" Mingi retaliates with an equally loud voice, "Because two years you went back to him! Even after seeing how he threw you away for Boyoung, the moment they broke up and he appeared with his tail between his legs, you allowed him back in. So I'm fucking sorry for assuming that it would be any different this time, seeing as you're accepting to talk to him. I don't plan on being anyone's second choice I'll tell you that, straight up, because I, as opposed to some people, have some respect for myself."

You freeze up at that.

San fucks you. He doesn't give a shit about you otherwise and he knows you have very little self-respect for yourself to ever call him out on it.

His voice is laced with sarcasm. Or maybe it's not even sarcasm but it's something aching to mocking and it makes you feel bad. It hurts you and it makes you equally angry.

Maybe you've had it wrong all this time. Maybe you underestimated yourself expeditiously and maybe only Wooyoung has some sort of safety net when it comes to your temper. Maybe you could always hurt Mingi.

Because he was really getting on your last fucking nerve.

You must stay silent for far too long because Mingi seems rigid as well, almost sensing that he pushed too far. Which he did.

His eyes stray away from your face as he furiously blinks around, rolling his tongue over his teeth.

You feel like you're back in the same spot you were in two years ago, only this time the hinges on your face aren't close to breaking. The rusty mechanisms and dirty, bent out of shape nails that lay beneath the surface stay hidden by the tightly screwed shut door. No, it won't be like two years ago.

Because maybe it's time to show Song Mingi just who Park Y/N really is.

"I don't like the way you speak to me when you're angry." You start off calmly, too calmly because Mingi seems perturbed at your tone and then even more so at your words.

He blinks, looking around with furrowed brows before his eyes settle on you, "What?"

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "I don't like how you treat me like I'm some dumb bitch who doesn't know left from right when you get all fired up. There. Is that better?"

"I don't-..." He starts, still blinking at you confusedly before his expression turns colder, "Don't turn this around on me, Y/N."

You let out a laugh which seems to annoy Mingi. Good. "Oh, I think I will, Mingi. I think I'll turn this around on you."

He goes silent at that, staring at you in slight hurt which in your opinion shouldn't even be there. What is he supposed to get hurt over?

"You wanna know what I think?" You ask, placing your hands on your hips as you stare him down, "I think you're so caught up in all this self-righteous bullshit that you don't even realize what kind of a hypocritical asshole you really are."

"What-"

"What? Huh?" You mimic childishly but you don't give a fuck. "All this talk about what San did two years ago, what I did two years ago but what about what you did two years ago? Huh? Wanna preach about that a little?"

It's almost comical how silent the room is.

"Come on. You had so much to say not even a minute ago, so talk." You glare at Mingi's crestfallen face and you would normally feel bad for bringing any of this up. But you're too far gone and you can't find it in yourself to care anymore. "Do you want me to remind you? Want me to remind you how you treated me like an idiot that day? How you choose her over me? Want me to remind you how you said I was trying to trap you into a relationship with me?"

Just saying it makes your eyes burn from the unshed tears that you suck in. You're too pretty to cry, Y/N.

"Y/N-" Mingi starts off calmly, definitely feeling like the argument is going in a completely uncharted territory that he doesn't look like he'll be able to handle.

Thankfully, you're an expert at verbal fights.

"You have a lot of balls to stand there in front of me and judge me for...what? Talking to San? Taking his number? Should that mean that I'm also an idiot that has no respect for myself for standing in this apartment with you at this very moment?" You ask loudly despite the tremble in your voice. "Because let me remind you Mingi, you didn't even apologize. You didn't even bring up what happened two years ago, instead you just went about it as if it never happened. Do you think you're better than San or something?"

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times as he blinks at you bewilderment before he recollects himself.

"First of all, I never called you an idiot." Mingi says quietly before his tone hardens, "And second of all, I am nothing like San."

"No, obviously not." You agree immediately, "But to think that you didn't hurt me would be ridiculous, don't you think? In fact, you hurt me more because you actually made me think that I stood a chance!"

"I never said that I didn't hurt you-"

"So what? You just didn't think I deserved an apology? Or to have at least addressed that between us?"

"Of course-" Mingi groans, rubbing his eyes before loudly exclaiming; "You're turning everything I say into something it's not!"

"Yeah, doesn't feel good does it? To be talked to like an idiot." You throw back meanly before looking away with an eye roll.

"Y/N." He says with a sigh, definitely fed up with the attitude which is too bad because he just scratched the surface.

There is a moment of silence in which you pace along the space of his kitchen as he just stands near the counter staring at you.

"Well, fucking talk!" You exclaim loudly, "Do I have to pull the words out of you with a pair of claw scissors, Jesus Christ. You had so much-"

"I was ashamed!" Mingi exclaims equally loud and you falter a bit with your pacing. He sighs, eyes falling shut as he runs a hand down his face before he's back to staring at you. "Of course, I think you deserve an apology. Don't you think I haven't felt guilty at the way I decided to approach this?"

He's speaking quietly now and you protectively cross your arms over your chest as you stop in one place, to carefully listen.

"I was ashamed. I've never spoken to anyone like that the way I spoke to you that day and...well, it was to you of all people." The words fall from his lips as his cheeks flush, "I've contemplated countless of times, back then, to call you and ask to meet up so we can...so I can talk to you and apologize but I never did and I fucked up, okay? I should've. And then I fucked up again when I just tried to brush it all off when we saw each other again this summer but you seemed like you were in a genuinely good place and...I didn't want to fucking bring it up. I was scared that would just push you away further."

Your eyes fall to the floor as you let his words, delivered in a honey-like voice, sink through your skin.

"I was an asshole that day and I was an asshole now and I am sorry for everything I said, I didn't mean it. Of course I'd go on a date with you, who in their right mind wouldn't want to go on a date with you?" Mingi chuckles weakly and when you look up, only then you notice his teary eyes. "But Y/N, you have to try and understand that I had no idea where we stood back then."

When your brows furrow, he is quick to explain.

"I know we were hooking up and spending a lot of time together and you asked me out on a date but in my head that was all just to get over San and with Boyoung...there were too many things at stake and I couldn't rely on a chance where there was a possibility I would get thrown away in exchange for him." He trails off and you nod.

"So you decided to throw me away instead."

Mingi observes you in silence, sad eyes staring into your teary ones but he doesn't say anything to correct you.

"Damn." You let out a shaky breath, "That...sucks."

The permanent feeling of being something so easily disposable, yeah, it fucking sucks.

"But Y/N, I mean, surely you understand where I'm coming from now, right? After everything with Wooyoung?" Your blood runs cold at his quiet admission, "I mean, being in Boyoung's place-"

"Don't." You whisper harshly, the sole comparison to Boyoung feeling like a dozen thorns stuck in your palm.

"But-"

"Don't mention Wooyoung." You say curtly and Mingi nods after a beat of contemplation.

"Alright, I-I'm sorry but...I'm trying to make it better. I want to be with you. I wanted to be with you then and I especially want to be with you now." He whispers and the first tears slide down your cheeks.

You stare at him with your mind jumbled and emotions at an all time high. Memories from two years ago resurfacing from good ones to bad ones and you find yourself at a crossroad, not knowing where to go.

"I don't think we should be together."

Mingi's face falls, "What?"

"Did you ever watch that movie 'Flipped'?" You whisper and Mingi stares at you flabbergasted, watery eyes and red cheeks.

"Y/N-...what? Flipped?"

"If you haven't, you should watch it, it's a good movie. I read the book too so I know many of the quotes from the top of my head." You talk, ignoring his questioning panicked stare because the easiest way to hold yourself together right now is to go on a tangent about a fucking movie you've been watching since you were a teenager. "I just remembered one of the quotes from it...It goes something like how sometimes a little discomfort in the beginning can save a whole lot of pain down the road."

Mingi is staring at you like you've grown three extra heads. Like you've completely lost your mind.

You laugh faintly, tears still falling. "We're both at fault now. We should have talked about all of this when we saw each other again, no matter how ashamed or hurt we were. We should've talked, cleared everything up, got closure and then went our separate ways...because look where we are now." You shrug motioning to the distance between the two of you, both seemingly heartbroken. "Ended up in the same place, only this will hurt about a hundred times worse."

"Wh-what will hurt, Y/N? What are you saying?" The desperation seeps into Mingi's voice as he takes a step closer to you, almost to reach out but he refrains himself from doing so.

"I'm saying that...right now, all of this...us...it feels wrong."

All this time, while convincing yourself to push it under the rug, you thought that talking about it would be the thing that fixes everything between Mingi and you. But weirdly enough, you feel only slightly better just because there is no longer a rock sitting in the middle of your chest but not in any way enough to say that all is well.

If anything, you feel like things are only worse.

"Wrong?" Mingi asks weakly, watching as you move to take your bag and you bite your trembling lip.

"Wrong." You confirm, trying to act tough despite knowing that you will cry a river once you're in the safety of your home. "And now I'm going to go."

"Go? You can't go!" Mingi exclaims in panic, staring at you with wide eyes and you sniffle a little, "Y/N, d-don't go! Please, don't go, let's just...let's sit down, yeah?"

You glance at him and his face fills with the saddest expression of hope. "Let's just sit down and talk, please. We...we were both upset so let's just-"

"This isn't about how the fight started and it most definitely isn't about San." You say firmly, making sure he knows that. "t's just now that we talked, I'm starting to see how out of place everything between us is."

"No, it's-" You cut him off and he turns his back to you in a hurry. Your heart aches when you see him run a hand under his eyes again.

"Mingi, I like you. So much. I could see myself loving you one day." Your voice cracks when he turns to face you again, "But I don't think I want to fall in love with someone who had to make a choice and that choice didn't include me. Like, really....you didn't even try."

Mingi's crestfallen face is the last thing you see before you turn around and head for the front door, quietly exiting as the guilt, the sadness, the hurt all settle in deep in your gut.

You don't remember the bus ride home. You think someone sat next to you because of rush hour but you're not sure.

You walk up the steps to your apartment and when you close the door shut behind yourself, is when you let the tears flow.

Wooyoung is sitting in the dinning area again, typing away on his laptop with a spreadsheet in front of him when you walk past him without a word.

"Y/N?" He calls after you but you don't grace him with a response, only slam the door to your bedroom shut.

Through your sniffles, you know the best thing to do right now is definitely not go to bed. You will only cry harder, possibly regret the decision, possibly go into a spiral of convincing yourself that you will never be truly loved. You can't do that.

So you slowly start unpacking your work bag, taking out the sketches and notepad and placing them carefully on your desk with your pencils following right after.

You can hear footsteps pacing in front of your door and it's only another reason for the heartache.

It's Wooyoung, probably wanting to come in and see what's wrong, but he doesn't know if he's allowed so now he's pacing in front of your room. You know him so well that you can imagine it and it causes a small watery smile to grow before it's dissolved by the tears again.

Your life is such a mess.

He disappears from the front of your door and you can hear him talking to someone quietly on the phone. You wonder if it's Yeosang.

"Shit." You mutter through the tears as you clumsily knock over the ceramic cup holding your brushes off the desk and sending it into bits and pieces to the floor. "Fuck." You whimper, bending down and trying to collect it, minimize the mess as Wooyoung keeps talking to someone.

"What?!" Is heard faintly from down the hall but you ignore it, too busy trying not to injure yourself.

You cry, crouching on the floor with a piece of the cup in your hand as you have no strength to clean up the mess you made. You never do.

Soft sobs that you try to muffle wreck through your body that you barely even register the bedroom door flinging open and seconds later, a figure is crouching by your side.

"Give me that." Wooyoung whispers, taking the shard from your hand and throwing it back to the floor before wrapping both of his arms tightly around you.

You try to push at him but it only causes his arms to tighten and he mutters; "You can hate me and be angry at me all you want but I'm not letting you cry alone."

A loud sob escapes you and Wooyoung moves both of you to the bed.

"T-the mess-" You try to free yourself from his hold but he doesn't budge.

"I'll clean it up, don't worry about it." He whispers, hand coming up to slowly pat you on your head and it all causes you to cry harder.

The loneliness, the destruction, the feeling of being disposable and always loving people more than they love you; it all comes crashing down on you today and you cry so much that you eventually tire yourself out and fall asleep against Wooyoung's side.

When you wake up, there is a headache cursing through you and a scratchy throat. You're alone in your room and when you move to the kitchen to see the empty coffee pot, you figure that it's still too early for Wooyoung to be up.

After showering and drying your hair half-heartedly, you pull on a long floral skirt and a white blouse, minimal make-up just to hide the dark eye circles and make it seem like you haven't been crying your eyes out the night before.

You make the coffee instead, leaving half of the pot on the counter after pouring yourself a cup which you drink staring at the surface of the dark wood of the dinning table before grabbing your bag for work and leaving.

There is a million thoughts running through your head and you're like a zombie for the entire day. Jihyo and Sana definitely notice so they keep their distance.

"You're finishing up in a week." Your boss stops by your desk and you nod with a fake smile at her. "I'd hope we get to keep working with you even after this book. Hyejeong really likes your illustrations, she feels like they fit her stories perfectly."

"Thank you." You say quietly with a bow, keeping the fact that you're probably not coming back to yourself. You kind of hold a grudge for the dinner party which immediately taints the image you've had of your boss but still, it's good money so you might change your mind. You're not sure.

You're not sure about anything these days.

Mingi texted so many times. Even called a couple but you've ignored all of it. Leaving your phone on silent and even tempted to turn it off completely.

The messages start all the same...'I'm sorry, can we-' and 'Please allow me to explain-' and well, that's all you can see on your phone without actually opening them.

Since it's Friday, you get to pack up your stuff and leave early. While you're at the market picking out some fresh fruit, you come to an idea...or more of a conclusion. You need a couple of days by yourself. You need to be on your own and figure yourself out.

But how do you do that when you have a roommate? The thought of kicking Wooyoung out isn't even a possibility even though Yeosang would definitely let him stay at his place but that's something you refuse to get into.

So the only thing that remains, is that you leave.

When you walk into your apartment, Wooyoung is already home. You can hear him shuffling around the kitchen as you take of your shoes in the small, narrow hallway and you sigh lowly before entering.

Your plan is just to leave the raspberries and plums you bought into the fridge and disappear into the bedroom but of course, Jung Wooyoung doesn't allow that.

"Hey, can...can we talk?" He asks cautiously, fully destroying your plan of just sneaking away in silence and you stop at the entrance of the hallway leading to your bedrooms and shared bathroom.

It would've happened sooner or later but you're real tired of 'talking' to anyone. "Yeah."

Wooyoung wrings his hands nervously, "I heard what happened with Mingi...and I know now might not be the right time... I want to be there for you. And in order for me to be able to be there for you, I need for you to be able to talk to me. So let me apologize...properly."

You just stare at him in silence and he takes it as his cue to continue.

"I'm sorry for lying to you and hiding stuff from you. I wanted to tell you at the beginning but things just kept escalating and I kept putting it off because I knew you would be upset. I wanted to do it on my own terms, sit you down and calmly explain everything to you and tell you about...Yeosang and when it happened so unexpectedly I lost control of the situation and I said stuff I didn't mean, I handled everything in the worst possible way and I'm sorry. But I'm not...I'm not going to break up with him, I...I really like him, love him I think and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." He finishes quietly and you run your tongue over your top row of teeth  as you observe his taller figure, nervously fidgeting a couple of feet away from you.

"Okay." You give him a nod and turn to walk to your room again.

"O-Okay?" Wooyoung calls after you hesitantly, "That...that's it?"

You stop again, turning to him, "What do you want me to say?"

He huffs, "I don't know. Anything. More than this, that's for sure."

You know he feels awful. You know it. Because Wooyoung loves you. You two are more than friends, you're family and you love him too. He's the most important person in your life and maybe that's why you're so closed off now.

The most important person in your life hurt you immensely.

"Do you want me to tell you that I forgive you?" You start off, your voice raspy and low. "Because I don't but I'll say it if it will make you feel better."

He opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head furiously, "No. No, that's not what I want but I just want you to talk to me again. I'm not saying this to make myself feel better."

"We're talking, aren't we?" You shrug with a chuckle, avoiding his eyes as yours start to burn again. You're so tired of crying.

"Y/N, you know what I mean." Wooyoung groans, running a hand through his jet black hair that he's been growing out recently. "I hate that you're avoiding me and that-"

"Yeah, well I'm fucking hurt Wooyoung." You cut him off snippily and he immediately clamps his mouth shut. "I'm sorry that's an inconvenience for you but I'm hurt. You lied to me. You hid stuff from me and then you got angry that I got upset because of that and mind you, I have every fucking right to be upset because you know what happened between Yeosang and I. And then..." You pause swallowing down your tears, "And then you threw the thing with San in my face despite...despite knowing everything. You knew I wasn't like that anymore, you knew I never kept anything from you after that but you still said it because you wanted to hurt me."

Wooyoung presses his lips together, harshly blinking away the tears as you try to keep your own at bay.

"I just..." You pause, biting on your lower lip and focusing your gaze on the blank wall next to you so the tears don't fall and you don't get swept away by your emotions but all of that is always easier said than done. "I never want to hurt you."

You continue through a whisper, "Every time we fought and I'd get so angry that I wanted say so much shitty stuff just so I could come out as the winner but I never did because I never want to hurt you..." Trailing off, your face twisting as you swallow down the tears, "So why was it so easy for you to hurt me?"

Wooyoung seems heartbroken by your last admission, brows furrowed and bottom lip trembling as his jaw locks into place and teary eyes stare into your own. He shakes his head quickly, "It's not-...I wasn't-...."

He doesn't know what to say because really, what can you say to that?

You try to put yourself in Wooyoung's shoes, wondering what you would say and then you realize that you have no idea how to even apologize let alone do enough to be forgiven.

Apart from the time you woke up to a silent Seonghwa by your side in the hospital, you don't remember ever apologizing in your life to anyone. And you definitely had apologies to give.

Girls who wanted to be your friend in middle school so they were an easy target, boys who liked you in high school so they were fun to play with and drag along like puppies, people who tried to stand up against you and only got burnt in return, people who simply looked at you wrong sometimes...

Years of purposefully inflicting pain onto others because you were in pain yourself and having so many apologies to give that you don't even remember all the faces that you've been cruel to when you just wanted to feel more...or sometimes less.

It didn't mean that you never felt guilty over it but usually, it was a temporary type of guilt that would pass as days, hours, sometimes even minutes trickled by and then you would never think of the person you hurt again. You wonder did they think of you more? Did they remember?

You hope not. You hope they haven't thought about you once after they stopped hurting. You don't think you're someone worth remembering.

Do you even deserve to stand here and accept apologies? Did you have the right to ask Mingi for anything? To be chosen? Why?

You're not a good person.

The more you stand in front of a silent Wooyoung who is sniffling in the middle of your apartment, the harder you spiral and it becomes more difficult to be surrounded by anyone.

"I'm leaving for a couple of days." You break the silence looking straight ahead as Wooyoung's head snaps up, face falling.

"L-leaving where?" He asks, wiping away the tears under his eyes.

"Just somewhere."

"Y/N, you can't leave. Where the fuck will you go?" He asks, the previous fragile exterior quickly hardening up the more he sees how serious you are.

" Yes, I can and I'll figure it out." You respond back, already tracking back to your bedroom.

"Don't fucking leave. If you need to be alone then I'll leave for a couple of days but..."

"It's not about just you, Wooyoung." You say loudly, turning over your shoulder to level him with a look. "I just need to leave the apartment-"

"Then go for a fucking walk and then come back!" Wooyoung throws back equally loud and you groan, mussing up your hair as you fully turn to face him.

"It's just for the weekend."

"I don't give a fuck! You're not leaving all of a sudden to go God knows where-!"

"And I'm not asking you for permission!" You yell back. "We're both adults who do whatever the fuck we want, aren't we? So now, I'm going to pack a bag and leave and you're going to let me."

You slam the bedroom door in his face, tears burning once again at the corners of your eyes as you pull out your small duffel bag from where you placed it in your closet and throw in a couple of articles of clothes in it. The hallway is empty when you open the door, so you quickly shuffle into the bathroom and collect your skincare and toothbrush before weaseling into your room again.

You pack your sketchbook as well along with some pencils.

When everything is done, you stand in the middle of your bedroom and rub your eyes with a sigh, definitely smudging up your make-up in the process.

What are you doing, Y/N?

Not allowing yourself to start doubting, you make sure you have everything before you fling the door open and head straight for the front door.

"Don't leave." He weakly calls out and it's only then you notice that he retrieved to his own bedroom and only came out when he heard your door open.

You stop in your tracks at how vulnerable he sounds but you just want to be alone now.

"I'll be back on Sunday, Young-ah." You say equally as quiet, not having the bravado to even look at him before opening the front door and walking out.

There was a small hotel on the edge of the city that you've often admired because it was pale pink.

You've never stayed there for a couple of reasons. One being that you lived with your parents and had no reason to book yourself a room anywhere else in the city. Another being that it wasn't a fancy hotel but something considered below you back then.

It's why you decide to go there now.

They give you a single bed room with a balcony, a humble mini fridge and a dresser on which you place your duffle bag.

It's a three star hotel but it was clean. Clean sheets, clean bathroom, clean towels. And at the moment, you really didn't need anything more.

So you change from the clothes you went to work in and into a pair of white cotton pants and a T-Shirt that you suspect is Wooyoung's but you absentmindedly stuffed it into the bag when you were packing. Clipping your hair back in a low bun, you open the balcony door wide open and sit down behind the small table fixed in the corner, carrying the bottle of whiskey you found in the mini-fridge and a glass.

It was nearing 7 p.m. and the summer heat was slowly simmering down so you lean back, observing the view in front of you of the city and all it's modern beauty.

Your eyes fall to your handbag sitting on the dresser inside the room and you stand up with glass in hand, walking over it and pulling out your wallet.

The white business card sits tucked between the numerous pieces of paper, coupons and cards and you pull it out, throwing it onto the surface of the dresser.

Your phone is next to it.

After a long moment of contemplation, biting your lip in thought and eye flickering over the figures printed on it - you grab your phone.

He comes nearing sundown, two knocks on the hotel door which have you standing up and walking towards the door with a sigh before unlocking it.

San stands leaning on the doorframe, head cocked to the side and dark eyes immediately latching onto yours.

"Didn't peg you as the type to bring your lovers to hotel rooms. You're really a changed woman now, Y/N." He says, lips perking up.

"Get in." You with an eye roll before turning around and heading for the balcony again but not before picking up an extra glass from the tray.

"Okay, wow, you're in a mood." He comments, lips folded in a pout when he finds you back in your chair on the balcony and plops himself in the chair next to yours. "Bad day?"

You snort in response; one- because yeah, bad day is an understatement and two- it's San who is asking.

Silently, you pour him a drink before refilling your own glass.

You pull your legs up on the chair and lean your chin against your knee as you watch him take a sip. San grimaces at the taste, tipping the glass towards you in question.

You sigh. "It was in the mini-fridge."

The whiskey is no doubt cheap. You wouldn't know because it's not usually your drink of choice but it seems like it is San's who instantly recognizes the difference.

Snob.

"Ah."

You fall into an oddly comfortable silence, both staring at the view in front of you. The sun is almost set now, the sky painted the most beautiful mix of oranges and purples and pinks that you've seen in awhile.

"Okay, so since you don't seem like you have any intention of speaking even though you were the one who, y'know, called me up here...I'll start." San says popping his lips as he places his glass on the table, you feel him glance at you from the corner of your eyes. "It's a rather...delicate subject from what I could gather but I think it's best if I just ripped off the band-aid."

At that you turn to him slightly intrigued at whatever bullshit is about to spill from his mouth.

"You called me so I have your number now, right?" Your eyebrow furrow at the question before he continues, "I was wondering if...if I could give it to Seonghwa."

You don't know if your expression gives you away. You try to smooth out your features but your jaw is clenched so tight you think your teeth might break.

You observe San's expression, his eyes boring into yours from across the small garden table between the two of you, trying to gauge if he just somehow found out who your brother is and is just fucking with you.

But San, for all the times he was cruel, isn't that cruel.

"How the fuck do you know Seonghwa?" You whisper, voice coming out slightly hoarse and confusion only deepening when you see San grimace.

"It's a long story." He chuckles almost awkwardly and you clench your jaw again.

"Amuse me."

San sighs, head tipping forwards a bit in contemplation before he straightens out again. "When I got your letter, thanks for that by the way it was a real...whatever, he came to the frat and beat the shit out of me."

Your jaw drops at that in genuine surprise because it just doesn't sound like Seonghwa. At all.

Your brother did boxing occasionally for shits and giggles with his friends but physical altercation is so not him. He couldn't hurt a fly.

"Seonghwa did?"

San chuckles bitterly, almost pained by the question.

"Oh, he sure did. Broke my nose, busted my lip, black eye...yep, the whole package." He recollects with a sigh, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "But that's not...anyway, that's not the point."

You open your mouth ready to ask for more information but he is quick to derail the conversation.

He seems...embarrassed. "Um, a couple of days after that I stopped by your house thinking your mom or dad would be home so I could ask them for your number or e-mail or I don't know...something."

As the shock crosses your face, San is quick to explain.

"Don't overthink it!" He quickly defends himself then lets out a low groan, tipping back the rest of his glass. "I wasn't trying to do a romantic gesture or anything-"

"Oh, God forbid." You comment sarcastically. Of course Choi San would think being romantic is the worst thing in the world. He just shoots you a quick glare before continuing.

"I just wanted to...uh," His finger runs over the tip of the glass, eyes avoiding yours, "Wanted to apologize, I don't know."

You stay silent at that and he sighs again, licking his lips before looking up to you again.

"But they weren't there, instead Seonghwa opened the door and after the, y'know, initial urge to break my face...again, he, uh, let me in. I think it was because he was drinking so it made him all...sentimental and shit." Yeah, that sounds like your brother. "But anyway, he offered me a drink, we got to talking a little bit and yeah..."

You stare at him, gaping.

"So, wait, so...you're friends with my brother...?"

San grimaces at that again, "Well, I wouldn't really call us friends. I'm pretty sure Seonghwa hates me and," He scoffs with an eye roll, "It's not like I'm awfully fond of him either but we sometimes go to a bar and just be...bitter and miserable adults together."

"Oh, so you're fucking friends with my brother now." You conclude sharply, nodding as you run your tongue over the top row of your teeth while staring at the city lights in front of you.

"But can I? Give him your number?" He asks again, this time quieter, "I didn't mention seeing you again or anything and it's sort of making me feel like shit because I know he'd love to hear from you."

You swallow down all the emotion pilling up in your throat. You hadn't seen Seonghwa since the day you got disowned but you surely thought about him. Often. For better or for worse, you always will love Seonghwa.

He was your hero and it's hard to just will all of that away.

"I'll think about it." You say in the end, tipping the rest of your glass back and immediately going in for a refill before pouring into San's glass as well.

"That's all I ask." He nods in thanks when you slide his glass over to him. "So, now that we got that out of the way; Why did you call me here?"

Now it's your turn to avoid his gaze. You focus on the cars passing by below you and pursue your lips.

"I...I don't know." It's such a shitty answer. The last thing you wanted San to think was that you invited him so you could fuck him. Given your history, you can't exactly blame him for it but it's not why.

Since you've seen San again, the thought of sleeping with him hadn't crossed your mind.

Not because you don't find him sexually appealing anymore, no, you don't think that will ever happen. It's not possible with San.

But maybe, you just stopped chasing for relationships where the only goal is to get off. They leave you feeling empty, hollow. You want to be whole.

And there is something about San and everything you've been through with him that makes you want to talk to him.

"My life is kind of shitty right now and I feel like every single relationship I have is falling apart one way or another and I don't know what to do so I just..." You trail off shaking your head, not knowing where you're going with this.

"I understand." San responds quietly. You let out a bitter laugh.

"You do?" You ask meanly, cocking your head at him with a smirk.

He doesn't take it to heart. "Yeah, sometimes you need to spill your guts to someone who you don't like all that much just to hear what they'll say and who's better than the asshole you were hooking up with in college."

"Shit." You let out unintentionally because maybe he does get it. He lets out a laugh.

"Why do you think I have your brother for?" San asks jokingly and you let out a snort at that. He snickers, pushing your shoulder gently with his hand. "So tell me, princess, what's going on?"

So you do tell him. Everything.

You tell him about Mingi. About what happened two years, what happened at the beginning of summer, what happened yesterday.

Then you tell him about Wooyoung. About Yeosang. About everything. You notice how his eyes dim a bit at the mention of Yeosang's name.

The pain, the tears, the anger - you tell San all of it until he's staring at you silently when you finish.

"Well, shit." He chooses to be his opening words, "I can see what you're so fucked up about now."

"Yep." You take another gulp of the whiskey, the nasty overly strong and somehow sweet taste not even being that bad anymore.

"I know this might come off real fuckin' hypocritical but you have to give me more than that. Like, what's the actual issue here?" San asks, grabbing the half empty bottle by now and pouring himself another glass. You give him a confused look. "What I got from this is that they both apologized so what's the actual problem? Forgiving them?"

"It's not..." You start but pause, mulling over your next words. "I'll forgive both of them but...it's not...it doesn't feel enough."

You quickly fix your words, "It's enough with Wooyoung. I'll be mad and sad over it for awhile and then...things will go back to normal because he's Wooyoung. I have a feeling I'd forgive him if he killed someone."

"So, Mingi...?" He asks, taking another sip before pulling out his pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans. He offers you one and you take it with a sigh.

"Yeah, Mingi." You nod, leaning closer when he offers you a light before lighting up the stick between his own lips. "I don't know...I...It's going to sound stupid."

"It might but it doesn't matter." San shrugs blowing out the smoke. "I don't judge."

You stare at him, taking a drag from the cigarette silently. The alcohol makes you more loose-lipped so it's easier to talk even about the things that have been eating you up inside for so long.

"I don't like how he didn't choose me."

"Of course." San nods, flicking the cigarette in the small metal ashtray on the table.

"But he apologized...he feels bad about it...." You trail of weakly, not sure of your own defense.

"So what?" He shrugs, looking at you for a response as he takes another drag. "He apologized because it's the right thing to do but you don't owe him anything."

"But-"

"Y/N, do you wanna be with him?"

"Yeah," You nod before pursuing your lips, "But I don't want to be with someone who just...who just ditched me like that. It doesn't feel okay. It makes me...it feels wrong to me."

And that is the complete and honest truth. You want to be with Mingi. He makes you feel warm and fuzzy and everything you expect you should feel in a relationship with someone but the choice he made two years ago drove a wedge through you and now sits in your chest like a stake which you just can't pull out.

"Well there you have it." San says as if it's the easiest thing in the world. You scoff.

"It's not that simple."

"It feels pretty fuckin' simple to me." He shrugs and it makes you roll your eyes in annoyance. San bites on his lower lip before he decides to speak again. "You shouldn't lower your standards or force yourself to get over something that's obviously bothering you just because you want to be with someone."

"But," You chuckle humorlessly just to hide the tears brimming at your eyes as you turn forward again, to avoid his gaze. "Do I even deserve to have those standards?"

San looks at you in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I just think I'm asking for too much considering I'm not exactly a person that deserves all of that." You say quietly, taking another drag of the cigarette before exhaling. "I'm a bad person, San, do I even deserve to ask someone to pick me? Shouldn't I just be happy that he seems to want to be with me now?"

San stays silent next to you and you clench your jaw, fearing what his response may be. You might've asked him to come here to talk but that still doesn't mean you're not scared of getting hurt.

"That's bullshit."

"Wha-" You open your mouth in frustration but he interrupts with a shake of his head, eyebrows raised as if he's telling you the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's bullshit." He shrugs, taking a last drag from the cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray. "First of all, you're not a bad person, Y/N, I don't know who told you that but you're not. It takes more than saying a few mean words to be a bad person."

"Second of all, don't ever allow yourself to feel like you don't deserve something you want." San states with determination. You open your mouth but he holds his hand up, "No, listen, when you're shopping, right?"

You groan because of course. Of fucking course, San would still associate you with shopping.

"Listen, when you're shopping for, I don't fuckin' know, a bag or something do you buy a bag even though you're like, 'hm this one doesn't have enough pockets and I don't really like the color and it might be too small but it's okay I'll still buy it'...?" You stare at him. "No, you fuckin' don't. You're buying it. You've investing in it. So it should be perfect. It needs to be the best fucking bag in the entire mall."

"Mingi isn't an object, San. He isn't a thing I invest in so I don't see how-"

"Well, obviously he's not a thing but of course you invest in him. You invest your time, your feelings, yourself." He lists holding up his fingers, "So if you're investing all of that in him but still carry that burden of what he's done at the back of your mind then I don't really see the point? Why would you do that to yourself?"

"That's ridiculous." You let out a laugh. "Nobody is perfect, like, everybody will make mistakes. If everyone acted that way and just never got over shit, nobody would be in relationships or have friends or-"

"But we're not talking about everyone here, Y/N, we're talking about you." San remarks giving you a pointed stare. "Some other person would maybe accept Mingi's apology and get over it and I'm not saying that's wrong but you are obviously still bothered by it even after the apology because you said it yourself, it feels wrong to be with him to you."

"And that's fine." He discloses softly and you swallow, taking another sip from your glass. "There's nothing wrong with that either. Nobody can tell you how to feel, Y/N."

You mull over his words, surprised that San of all people is so good at understanding others around him so well. You always took the fact that he was closed off emotionally as a sign that he didn't understand or read emotions all that well or that he didn't care but now you're starting to realize that maybe he reads them a little too well but just keeps it all to himself.

"Wouldn't it be a bit hypocritical to go back to how things were with Wooyoung but leave Mingi?" You ask unsure, the cool air of the summer evening feeling comforting on your skin.

You've thought about it since yesterday. After you told Mingi it might've been better if you hadn't started anything at all, yet still allowed Wooyoung to hold you as you cried.

"Maybe." He shrugs, taking another sip of the golden liquid from his glass, "But who cares? Like, they're not comparable at all in my opinion but genuinely, it's your life. You decide who you want in it."

"That's...a bit selfish, no?" You scrunch up your nose and San laughs lightly.

"Selfish? Sure but everyone is selfish." He gives you an 'are you kidding?' look when you look at him ready to argue, "Everyone is selfish. Everyone around you is selfish and everyone around me is selfish. You and I, we're selfish as well."

"I don't...not everyone..." You mumble, pouring yourself another drink. The alcohol is starting to hit fully now, San seems fine despite drinking more than you though.

"You think your friend wasn't selfish? He started seeing Yeosang despite knowing you were on bad terms with him, that's selfish." San points a finger at you as if to prove a point, "And then he hid it from you despite knowing it would hurt you because he just wanted to keep you and your friendship the way it was. That's selfish as well."

"Mingi as well, he didn't bring anything up even though he knew it would be the right thing to do because it was easier to pretend like nothing happened because he wanted you and knew that bringing it up would make it fresh again for you and maybe drive you away further." He remarks with a shrug. "It's all selfishness but I don't see it as a bad thing necessarily, it all seems to prove their love and care for you. But it's still selfish."

You don't dare interrupt his little rant, probably drunken ramblings at this point but you're equally as drunk and you want to listen.

"You know people sometimes say they want the best for you and sure, that might be true to an extent but really I see it as a 'I don't think you should do this because you'll feel like shit and as someone who cares for you, it will be an inconvenience to me because I'll feel bad as well because I love you' like, they still put themselves first in a way even without realizing it so maybe that's not selfishness but it sure damn is close to it." He nods with his lips folded in a natural pout, "And it's not bad, it's inherently human to be selfish."

You store everything he says at the back of your mind, hoping you will remember it in the morning.

"You know," You start off quietly after a moment of silence, "You're really good at this for someone who hates dealing with their feelings."

San smiles at you over the rim of his glass before taking another sip. "Maybe that's why I hate it. Because I understand how fucking complicated and hard it is."

You really didn't want it to get to this point. Where you're given a chance to talk about San but the opportunity is still too good to pass up on. After all this time, it would still be pretty sweet to figure him out.

"Don't you want someone?" You ask curiously, laying your cheek on your knee as you stare at him while running your finger over the rim of your glass. "To love you? To love?"

San sighs lowly, leaning back in his chair again as he stares out to the city. He murmurs slowly, "I don't think that's in the cards for me."

"Why not?" You push, the one question that's been plaguing your mind for so long. Why not, San?

"Because..." He starts, gaze casted downwards, "Uh, I don't think I would be good to them."

Your brows raise at that, cheek sloshed against your cheek and he glances at you for a brief moment before turning his eyes to the city lights again.

"I'm not saying I'd treat them badly, no, I can do all the superficial shit if I really want to like, remembering dates and buying flowers and being a good boyfriend but..." He smacks his lips in thought, "At one point, that won't be enough. They'd want to know me, want to know more than I want to show and I'd get... I don't fuckin' know, it would start being suffocating. Like I genuinely think I'd feel sick to my stomach as dramatic as it sounds because...it's scary. To be vulnerable."

"You know," He angles his body towards you and he continues speaking almost through a whisper, "That's why I draw the lines. Like, 'we can do this and we can do that but no feelings, no relationship'. And sometimes they'd think they're in love with me," His eyes are on you when he says it before they fall to the table, "And I'd pretend I don't see it because I'm doing them a favor, really. Despite popular belief, Y/N, inflicting emotional pain on women isn't something I enjoy. But making them think they have a chance by starting a relationship, making their feelings more real only for it to fall through in the end when they realize that I can't give them all of me...now, that's cruel. I don't want to do that."

He reclines back in his seat again and you're completely silent, the traffic from the world below you is the only thing heard.

“Boyoung...she might’ve been the closest thing to love I’ve known and the moment she started to want more, to know more, to ask more...I couldn’t do it. It’s like I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe when I was with her when she’d start asking about my parents, my childhood...anything that I obviously avoid. I just couldn’t. I tried that one time and I don’t plan on trying again. I’m just not made for it...” He trails off in thought, "I don't want to hurt anyone more than I have to so it's just best to do what I've been doing until I can."

"And for how long do you think that will work?" You wonder out loud, picking your head up to take another sip from your glass.

"For as long as I can drag it out." San responds quickly with a chuckle, "I've been working for about two years now. Big company, rich people, a lot of money...I'll be moving up the ladder soon and I already think I know what the rest of my life will look like."

"And? What does it look like?"

He starts with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm on the way to becoming a workaholic so I'll mostly focus on that. Spend my twenties and thirties fucking around with different women because a relationship isn't an option and climbing up the company ladder. By the time I'm in my forties, I won't be as desirable to women anymore but I'll have money and probably a top position at the firm."

Listening carefully, you can't help but think what a miserable life that is.

"Then I'll marry someone younger because she'll make me look good but I won't love her. And that's okay because she won't love me either, she'll definitely marry me for the money and won't mind that I only gave her a small part of myself." San takes a sip of the whiskey, swallowing the drink with pursued lips, "And she'll cheat on me with the pool boy or some other younger guy because I'll always be working but that's also okay because I won't be faithful either. And I'll probably develop a drinking problem somewhere in between and we won't have kids because I don't want to bring innocent babies into such a fucked up marriage."

When he goes quiet, you can't help but watch him with furrowed brows and feeling awfully saddened.

"Why would you want to imagine your life like that?" You probe, strands of hair that were framing your face swaying in the cool breeze.

San shrugs, eyes focused on the city lights with his eyebrows pinched. "Just think that's how it's going to be...or at least something similar to it."

He turns to find you watching him and lets out a soft smile, "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" You give him a one sided shoulder shrug and he eyes you.

"Like you feel sorry for me. I don't need your pity." San shakes his head, looking away again. "If I wanted things to be differently I know what I'd have to do to change it but I simply don't see that happening anytime soon. Kind of a bummer, huh?" He glances at you, "How our futures depend solely on us and no-one else."

You give him a weak chuckle in return before both of you fall into another silence.

Another thought crosses your mind and you contemplate whether or not you should say it. You've already told San enough and he told you a little bit as well. But you're both silent now and there's nothing else to do so you decide to say it anyway. You're drunk so maybe you won't even remember it in the morning.

"I want to be in a relationship so badly." You start of shy, back to avoiding San's eyes when he turns to look at you, "I crave stability and I think that's why I started this...thing with Mingi again because he made me really happy back then so I thought...maybe it's not that important that he didn't choose me then if he's back now."

"Mhm," San nods in agreement, playing with the glass in his hand, "And I think you're worried that no-one will come after Mingi."

You scrunch up your face at that, "Well, that...that makes it sound like I'm settling for Mingi or something. It's not like that, he's not someone you settle for. He's great, anyone would be lucky to be with him."

San's expression twists up, "You need to stop putting everyone you're in a relationship with on such a high pedestal while downplaying yourself. You're making it seem like he's doing you a favor by being with you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you as well, Y/N."

"San." You warn him, shaking your head with a laugh.

"What?" He ponders, genuinely confused, "You know for someone who always seemed so confident and acted like they're better than everyone else, you are weirdly insecure."

Your jaw drops, "Uh, fuck you."

"I'm just saying," San groans, popping his lips again, " You have a lot going for you and you're always going to have options so even if things don't work out with him, someone else will eventually come along. If that's one of the things you worry about, I'm just telling you that you shouldn't."

That is one of the things that you worry about....a lot. If you decide not to pursue anything further with Mingi, what if everyone else that comes after him just doesn't treat you as good in comparison to him. And in the end, what if you regret letting him go?

Why couldn't you simply stomach what happened two years ago and just be with him?

"He's a good guy..." You trail off quietly, lips folding into a pout unintentionally.

"I'm sure he is but there are other good guys as well." He maintains eye contact with you, "If you want to be with him then it should be for the right reasons and if you're sure that you won't hold the past against him, not because you're scared of ending up alone or placing your own worries at the backburner for him."

You slump back on your knees as you let San's words sink in.

Forgiving Mingi is easy. You know he feels sorry, you know he didn't mean anything he said that day or yesterday, you know he cares about you in some way.

But letting go of the resentment you feel deep inside over not being worth the fight in his eyes and not holding that against him if you do decide to continue anything with him?

You are not sure you are capable of that.

So is it really fully forgiveness? If you can't let it go?

"This is such a mess." You sigh, pouring yourself another drink clumsily before handing the bottle to San.

"Tell me about it." He responds, speech slightly slurred.

"You really are good at giving advice though, maybe you should listen to yourself more often." You say teasingly, giving him a drunken smile.

San gives you a faint glare. "Shut up. You mention this to anyone and I'll deny every word."

You giggle. "Can't have people thinking you have a heart, yeah?"

"Exactly." He smiles before bringing the glass back up to his lips.

"So..." San starts, pulling you out of your thoughts after the moment of prolonged silence that enveloped you both as you stared at the city in front of you, "How is Yeosang?"

You glare at him. "Seriously?"

"Come on." He rubs the back of his neck, puppy eyes coming out the longer he stares. You sigh.

"He's working at the same IT company as Mingi and lives in a nice big apartment that he shares with a roommate I haven't met before." You list off from the top of your head, "He has a small poodle named Butter and he's also dating my best friend who just happens to be the best person in the world so...I'd say Yeosang won the life lottery out of all of us. Lucky motherfucker."

San goes quiet, rapidly blinking as he stares at the surface of the table but a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. "That's good, yeah."

"You want me to-..."

"No." He shakes his head immediately, already knowing what you were about to say. "I was shitty to him and after I apologized, he said he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. I have to respect that, reap what you sow."

You nod with a hum.

"Your friend is in good hands though, Yeosang is...great. Yeah, he's great." San adds and you nod your head absentmindedly, not really in the mood to talk about Yeosang.

"Why did you choose this hotel out of all places?" He asks suddenly, changing the subject as he turns his attention to you again. "Everything else was full?"

"No, uh," You glance at him, "It's pink."

There's a moment of silence and your cheeks warm up.

"Right." San smiles, dimples on display.

"Shut up." You grumble, grabbing your glass again and taking a sip as he laughs.

"No, it's cute." He adds when he's done laughing, "It's very on brand."

"Whatever."

You sit there for another hour, quietly murmuring drunken stupidities amongst yourselves as you keep drinking. When he mentions college days, it doesn't sting as much as you thought it would. It's so weird.

"I don't think I was ever in love with you." You murmur out of nowhere and San slows down his action of going after the bottle, eyes finding yours.

He smiles, "I know, Y/N."

Choi San was always an enigma. Something you desperately wanted to figure out and have because no-one else could. You mistook your ego getting wounded at the thought of not getting your way with him as love somehow but it was never love. You just didn't know it back then, too blinded by your pain and anger and Choi San's ability to be devastatingly irresistible.

He broke your heart multiple times but it was never a heartbreak that came from love, it was something else.

You smile as well and then sit up to snatch the bottle from his hand.

"Well, time to brotherly share this." You say swishing the small amount of whiskey left in the bottle which you divide as fair as you can between your two glasses.

"Cheers." San says quietly, clinking his glass against yours before you both take a sip.

After both of your glasses are drained and you are sufficiently drunk, San decides it's time to leave so you follow after to walk him out.

"The reception said your cab will be downstairs in two minutes." You tell him, waiting by the door as you watch him check if all his belongings are there and that he didn't leave anything behind on the balcony in drunken stupor.

"Okay." He nods, brushing past you and walking out.

"San," You call softly after him because it is the middle of the night now. He turns in question, just a step away from you. You pursue your lips, arms crossed over your chest as you stand leaned on the doorframe. "You can give Seonghwa my number."

His eyebrows perk up at that faintly but he nods in response.

"And..." You start, the words dying in your throat as you look at him, feeling oddly sad that he has to go.

"...and?" He insists turning to face you fully now, taller frame towering over you that you have to crane your neck a little to look at him.

"And after this, let's not see each other again." You tell him quietly, tears burning at the corner of your eyes but holding your head up high.

San smiles softly, surprising you when his hand reaches up and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before leaning closer and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

He steps back, soft smile, soft eyes, soft voice. Soft. "Okay. Let's not see each other again."

You give him a watery smile, "Good night."

"Take care, princess. Good night." He gives you one last smile, dimples and all, before turning his back to you and walking away.

Locking the door shut, you make sure the balcony door is closed as well before plopping down on the still neatly made bed with a groan. You're out like a light in minutes.

On Saturday, you nurse your hangover and take full advantage of room service by ordering greasy food that you would usually avoid. You draw a little, back on the balcony.

You think you can imagine Miguel The Skeleton owning a pink hotel just like this but it's kind of a busted job because no human wants to go to a hotel owned by a skeleton wearing a hula skirt and a 50s grandma hat. Miguel The Skeleton doesn't look as smug at that revelation.

Maybe if he ditched the ugly hat, you tell him...Would make him look far more approachable.

You don't check your phone at all on Saturday, just put it on silent and leave it to get charged.

On Sunday, you're ready to go home.

In the morning, you take a nice shower and pack up all your belongings. Dutifully make sure all your pencils and papers are in place and get dressed in a floral dress that feels light on you which is perfect for the God awful temperature rising outside even if it's barely noon.

After you check out, you take a cab to your neighborhood and stop by the local restaurant to get lunch from there. Given everything, you still feel bad for just leaving Wooyoung like that. The two of you haven't been separated this long in the last two years and you don't know if that's a bad or good thing.

You unlock the front door and walk in, leaving your duffle bag in the hallway while taking off your shoes and walking inside, carrying the food you got in the plastic bag hanging from your hand.

As you place it on the dinning table, you hear a door slam open and footsteps stomping up to the main area.

"I brought food." You quietly say, focused on taking out the containers without letting anything spill that you don't even notice Wooyoung staring at you.

"You b-bitch." You hear him say, more like whimper and it immediately has your head snapping towards him, brows furrowed in confusion that melts to worry when you notice his disheveled state.

Red, swollen eyes, messy hair and tear-stained blotchy face. Dressed in his pajamas and just standing there, looking at you as his bottom lip wobbles.

"Wooyoung, what-" You straighten out slowly but he glares at you.

"Are you going to move out?" He's trying to glare, seem angry but all it does is make him look so vulnerable as more tears slide down his cheeks and his face scrunches up.

You do a double take.

"What?" You question as you near him cautiously, brows furrowed as your confusion deepens. "Why would I move out? I live here."

"Were you out for the weekend looking for a new place? Be honest with me! Is that what you were doing?" He interrogates you loudly, before breaking out in another sob that immediately has you latching onto his arm to calm him down. "Are you g-going to leave me? Yeosang said you wouldn't leave no matter h-how angry you a-are but I'm n-not so sure now!"

You sigh, placing your hands on his shoulders gently as he stares at his feet, tears dripping down his face.

"Well, it's hard for me to say this but Yeosang is right." You start off quietly, calm and collected. "I'm not going anywhere, Young-ah."

He sniffles, wiping the tears away with his sleeve before bringing his gaze up to meet yours. You immediately soften once you see the fear and insecurity in his eyes and you hate yourself for leaving a little bit despite having the full right to do so.

You place your hand on his cheek before giving him a small smile, "Wooyoung, I would never leave. I just took a little weekend vacation to the city, that's it."

He breaks at that, hands going up to hide his eyes as he cries. "I'm sorry. I'-I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry. I'm-"

Your gaze softens and you start to realize that this took a toll on him more than you expected and on instinct, you grab him by the nape of his neck and pull him in for a hug as he latches onto the skirt of your dress while crying into your neck.

"It's okay." You whisper comfortingly to him but feel him shake his head against you.

"It's n-not okay! It's not. I h-hurt you and I-..every t-time I tried to talk to y-you I ended up m-making it worse and I'm s-so sorry-" Wooyoung rambles through his hears.

You push at his shoulder until he lets go of you and cup his face with your hands, your own tears threatening to fall.

Nobody can tell you how to feel, Y/N. San's words echo in your mind.

"Wooyoung, listen to me," You shush him gently, "I love you, Wooyoung and before we left for Paris, I made a promise to myself that I'd do my best for you to be happy, like you deserve and if Yeosang makes you happy then that's just something I'll have to get over, okay?" You wipe the tears under his eyes with your thumbs as he stares at you, face still crunched up, eyes glossed over with tears and lips wobbling as he tries to hold in his sobs, "So don't even think about that anymore. And the rest, well I'm hurt...and it might take awhile for us to go back to how things were but...but we'll get there. I swear, Young-ah, I'm not going anywhere and everything will be okay, hm?"

His face crumbles again as more tears fall but he nods shakily before burying his face in your neck. "I love you, too."

You sigh quietly, wrapping your arms around him again as your tears slowly get soaked up by his shirt.

You squeeze him lightly one more time before moving to untangle yourself from his hold and he steps back, wiping away his tears again. You smile faintly.

"Come on, I brought lunch from that place down the street." You tell him, heading to get the cutlery and plates from the kitchen cupboard as Wooyoung watches you for a second longer before following your lead and quietly grabbing the judge of juice from the fridge and a handful of napkins.

"There we go. Bon appétit!" You proclaim as you fill up your plate, trying to be as cheery as possible just to make him feel slightly better. Seeing him so down feels like a punch in the gut.

You both eat in silence, neither knowing what to exactly say so you just stick to keeping quiet until finally, Wooyoung starts.

"So...where did you go?" He asks hesitantly, voice hoarse and you perk up in your chair as you chew.

"Oh, I was in that pink hotel near the center." You say while chewing before you slow down, glancing to the side for a split second. "San came to see me there."

The revelation causes Wooyoung to start choking on the bite he was chewing and he quickly flails around, grabbing the napkin as he coughs into it. You take a sip of your juice and clear your throat before innocently taking a peak at him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, y-yeah. Just went down the wrong pipe." Wooyoung croaks out, loudly clearing his throat before looking up at you.

You know he has a plethora of words for you right now and it's almost fun to watch him try to hold himself back from say them.

"Just say it." You shrug, bringing the chopsticks up to your mouth again and chewing.

"No, no, no. I'm not going to say anything." Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to play cool  and you raise an eyebrow watching as his fingers bounce off of the surface of the dinning table for a moment, obviously in distress and knee probably bouncing underneath it. "Okay, fine! I am going to say something!"

Your lips quirk up. You didn't expect anything less.

"Did you-...Why-....I mean, what-..." It's almost amusing to watch him scramble for words, hands going around in the air as if it's enough to explain anything. He sighs, hands resting on the table, "Did you fuck him?"

"No." Is your quick and simple response.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side, "You...didn't?"

"No." You confirm one more time, "I invited him over, we drank and we talked and then I told him I don't want to see him again and he left."

"...oh."

"Yeah."

"Hm."

"Mhm."

Wooyoung sighs, standing up from his chair. "I need something stronger than this fuckin' orange juice. Do you want some vodka with that?"

"Uh," You look around the room, "It's a Sunday noon."

Wooyoung blinks, bottle of vodka already in his hand as he stares at you besides the open fridge.

"Sure." You nod, pushing your glass towards him.

Wooyoung tips a generous amount of vodka in your glass before doing the same to his and then returns to his seat, taking a big gulp.

He sighs in content before giving you his full attention, eyes puffy and hair still a bird's nest. "Now. Tell me everything."

You get tipsy while you re-tell Wooyoung all about your night with San filled with deep, drunken musings that create a ridiculous image in your head as it's not something you ever expected to have to describe.

Wooyoung is shocked, then slightly peeved then confused but all in all, seems to be interested by the newly developed relationship that ended on the same night it started. He even says he's proud of you and you don't exactly know what to say to that.

"So, what about Mingi?" He asks, leaning back against the couch. It's been an hour since the two of you moved to the living room with the bottle of vodka and jug of orange juice accompanying you.

You give him a look.

"Right." Wooyoung nods with his bottom lip jutted out in understanding.

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair. "I'll ask him to meet up this week. To talk properly."

"That's good. Clear the air completely." He says in a supportive manner, stretching his arms above his head.

"...yeah." Is what you decide to respond with. It's not just that, neither is it that simple but you are also not ready to talk to Wooyoung about your current feelings just yet. You might've told him about San but you didn't describe in details what you talked about like you usually would, more so kept to the funny bits and stuff that wasn't all to serious or specific. Not because you're trying to punish him or anything but just...you just can't. And that's okay. It is.

"I'm gonna go to my room." You add after a moment of silence with just the two of you lounging on the couch. "I have to unpack and...get ready for work tomorrow."

Wooyoung's eyes dim a little at the obvious distancing, it's barely noticeable but you know him well enough to read him. Still he gives you a small smile and nods, moving his legs out of the way to let you pass.

After unpacking the little clothes you brought and placing everyone back to it's original place whether it's skincare or sketching supplies, you open the window of your bedroom to let the fresh air in since there seems to be a slight breeze today and plop down on your bed with laptop on your lap, ready to maybe watch a movie or just waste time online...it makes no difference.

A random movie starts playing, just something to fill out the silence as you change into a comfortable pair of shorts and an old shirt before return to bed and get lost in your own thoughts, blankly staring at the screen while thinking of what to say to Mingi if....when you see him this week.

The buzzing of your phone from the nightstand interrupts you and you frown slightly when you see 'unknown caller' on the screen. Only a handful of people here know your new number...

"Hello?" You say into the speaker, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as your frown only grows when you're met with silence from the other side. "Hellooooo?"

Your lips part as a thought crosses your mind. It's silly. It's fucking ridiculous but hope is always the saddest feeling in the world and if you don't try, you feel like it will eat you up from inside. You take a deep breath,

"Hwa?" You ask with a shaky voice, clutching the phone to your ear as you wait for something. Anything.

"H-hey. Hi." His voice cracks from the other side and your eyes burn almost on command.

"Hwa, hi." You chuckle shakily, watery smile growing on your face because it's your brother. It's your brother, it's your brother, it's your brother.

"How, uh, h-how are you?" He clears his throat, "How are you, Y/N-ie?"

You sniffle, tears streaming down your cheeks and getting soaked up by the collar of your shirt. "I'm g-good! I'm-...I got back in May with Wooyoung...I, uh, I....mm, how are you?"

"I'm good as well, yeah." Seonghwa says softly over the other line, "I, uh, I-...San gave me your number. H-He told me that you said it's okay but I didn't...really believe him." He chuckles awkwardly, nervously, "So I...that's why it took me this long to call but I still...I still wanted to hear from you even if...even if he lied or something I still..."

Your face breaks at that and you try to muffle the hiccups with your hand before forcefully clearing your throat, "I d-did! I did, I said it's...it's okay."

A moment of silence ensues.

"Can I see you?" You ask self-consciously, timid of hearing his response.

"Y-Yes! Yeah," Seonghwa laughs nervously again, "Sorry, yeah...definitely."

"So, when..."

"Well, does tomorrow...? I-I mean do you have a-....Would tomorrow work?"

"I finish with work at four." You offer quietly, anxiously waiting to hear his response.

"Okay, so...so would around eight work?...Dinner?"

"Yeah, yeah...okay."

"That...that Italian place near the fountain in the center?" Seonghwa offers and you nod quickly before almost face palming, remember he can't see you.

"That works..." You utter softly and hear him sigh from the other line.

"Okay, great. So...so I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah..."

You indulge in some small talk after that, nothing long or too important...mostly discussing the weather awkwardly if you were completely honest before biding him goodbye and placing your phone back on the nightstand before laying down in your bed, curled up but somehow with a heart that was starting to get halfway full.

The next day you're on autopilot for the majority of it, only being aware of the clock ticking away and every hour passing by while you giddily sit behind your desk at work and try to do some finishing touches to the illustrations.

As soon as the clock hits four, you are out of your seat like a skyrocket, packing up your bag in a rush and bidding the room a quick goodbye before heading for the stairs.

You're excited to see Seonghwa, you really are.

You can't even find it in yourself to be mad or hurt anymore because all you can feel is how much you've missed him. You've been missing him so long even before you left two years ago.

Maybe that's how siblings work. They hurt each other and hate each other but still nothing can break them apart in a way.

Blood is thicker than water after all.

Well, you have a couple of examples that have proven that to be wrong but still...Seonghwa is Seonghwa.

Wooyoung isn't home when you arrive so you take a quick shower and change into something more casual like a cute patterned mini skirt and white halter top, washing your face of any make-up you've had on before grabbing your bag and heading for the door again.

The Italian place Seonghwa mentioned as your meeting spot was a small restaurant where the two of you used to go to when you were younger, both sharing the same appetite when it came to cheese and pasta.

You worried that you might've arrived too early, almost half hour earlier than planned but you were nervous but excited, feeling too many things to just sit at home and wait as you watch the clock.

It seems like it wouldn't be too bold to assume that Seonghwa felt the same way because as you enter a little deeper into the restaurant, you spot a familiar figure sitting alone at the table in the corner and your heart jumps to your throat as you cautiously approach him, shy and unsure like he's not your own brother.

Seonghwa glances in your direction before doing a double take, immediately standing up from his seat, even from a couple of feet away you can see him fiddling with his fingers.

You clear your throat, gracing him with an awkward smile that probably resembles a grimace more than anything else because the longer you stare the more your eyes burn with unshed tears.

"Hey." He utters once you're close enough and you can't help yourself, you walk around the table and throw your arms around him like you're that kid once again who's only friend she had was her big brother.

His arms come around your frame, holding you tightly against him and you squeeze your eyes shut as you latch onto him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so...I'm so sorry, I-..." Seonghwa keeps repeating over and over again and you're not even sure what he is apologizing for but you forgive him. You don't know why or how but you forgive him.

You wish things were different, you wish you were never put into a situation where you didn't see him for two years and had to have him apologize like this but you forgive him. You will always forgive him.

"It's okay." You say quietly against his shoulder. He shakes his head.

"It's not okay. It's...it's not okay, I should've been there. I should've..." His voice cracks and you can tell he's holding back tears, "I should've done more, I should've done more to protect you, to help you, I should've..."

"It's okay." You interrupt him even firmer, pulling away to meet his eye as you step back slightly, "You're here now...right?"

It's never too late when it comes to your brother.

Seonghwa presses his lips together, face pinched as he blinks away the unshed tears before nodding decidedly. "Yes. Yes I am."

You nod as well with a small sad smile before clearing your throat again and pulling out a chair for yourself across from him.

It's awkward and neither of you know how to act, slipping into the siblings act proving to be more difficult than you expected but you don't mind. You missed him so, so much.

"I ordered, uh, press juice or something." He shakes his head with brows furrowed and a small smile on his lips, "So the waiter should be here soon, so you can order-"

"Yeah, yeah." You chuckle, not minding the wait as you lean your elbows on the table.

Seonghwa stays quiet and so do you, eyes coasting over the restaurant before settling back on him. His hair is shorter than it was before you left but still kept neat. He looks somewhat more mature, like a proper adult and it's odd. Does he think the same way about you?

Do you look like an adult?

You certainly don't feel like an adult. People often tell you to quit acting like a child. Parents told you that you weren't a kid no longer but you really can't remember when was the exact moment you grew up.

His eyes meet yours and his expression falters again.

"Y/N, I'm really...I'm..." Seonghwa starts but then pauses, probably searching for the right words to say.

Growing up, Seonghwa and you rarely fought but when you did, you never apologized to each other afterwards. You had no idea if that was how all siblings operated but the two of you would just act like nothing happened after you cooled off and then tried to butter each other up with being out of the ordinary nice to each other.

Maybe that's why you have trouble speaking now.

"I know." You assure him with honest eyes, "Me too."

Seonghwa seems thankful when he nods and then quickly jumps in to wave down a waiter that walks over to take your order.

Throughout the dinner, you indulge in small talk. Paris, work, Wooyoung, Seonghwa's new girlfriend. You both avoid the big elephant in the room but you can't go avoiding it forever, you have to ask even if it's just out of decency.

"How are mom and dad?" You ask before taking a bite of your pasta.

Seonghwa's chewing slows down and he glances at you before shrugging. "They're...same old mom and dad."

You both chuckle after that.

You haven't heard from your parents since that same night but your grandma, your mom's mom, called you one night while you were in Paris.

Apparently, to save face as always, your mother was telling everyone how Wooyoung and you escaped to France because the constant attention here was a bother to your relationship. More privacy where less people know you. So you both transferred schools to Paris to be a happy little couple away from the nosy upper circle and experience normalcy of the Average Joe.

What a load of bullshit that she was still trying to sell and his parents didn't seem to mind either. It was a quick explanation as to why neither of their kids were in touch with them that much when someone asks, even if it is a lie.

It caused your blood pressure to soar when you first heard it and almost made you not return to Seoul at all but in the end, Wooyoung managed to talk you into it thankfully.

The longer dinner stretches on, the easier it is to speak even if the subjects were still fairly superficial. But you really enjoy dinner.

"Will...Will I see you more often?" You ask quietly playing with the napkin on your half empty plate, timid of his response after so much time of getting brushed off and barked at by him.

Seonghwa's eyes soften as he stares at you, "Do you want to?"

"Yes...yeah." Is your immediate answer as you gulp down the happy tears.

Seonghwa seems to be doing the same thing, "Then yes. Whenever."

You wring your hands in front of your face as you look at him before nodding, "Okay."

"I'm really..." Seonghwa sighs before smiling again, glancing at you before looking away, "I'm glad we did this, kid. I'm really happy and you look...you look like you're doing very good, I'm proud."

"Thank you." You whisper, unusually shy to hear the praise but you always craved his approval.

"Would you like me to drive you home?" He asks, waving down the waiter again to get the check.

"Yeah," You sigh, draining your glass of juice, "It's getting kind of late."

Seonghwa snorts with eyebrows raised. "That is something I never thought I'd hear from you. It's barely past ten."

"Hey," You whine, "I'm a working woman now and I'm not so young anymore."

"So I take it you retired from the college parties and shitfests in general." He jokes and you scoff.

"Pfft, awhile back." He laughs again.

"Let's go." Once the check is paid, he gives you a ride to your apartment and you point out the window of your living room to him, you don't know why but it's just in case you guess. If he ever decides to stop by.

When you enter your apartment, you let out a sigh before tiredly taking off your sandals and walking inside.

Wooyoung is always doing something in your shared space. He makes the dinning table his work table on most nights so you're not all that surprised to see him sitting behind his laptop, glasses slipping down his nose as he types away, grumbling under his breath.

"Hey." You greet quietly and his head picks up in surprise.

"Oh, hey." You can hear the 'where-...' before he stops himself and your heart slightly aches. He's always so nosy but now keeps his distance as well until he figures out where exactly you two stand and when he's allowed to start butting in your business again.

You want to tell him about Seonghwa though. You're so happy to see your brother again and you want to share it with someone. Not just someone, your best friend. Your Wooyoung.

You leave your bag on the counter before turning around and leaning against it so you can look at Wooyoung.

You mull over your thoughts for a moment and when you glance at him, you already see Wooyoung staring at you in question.

Clearing your throat, you smile lightly. "I just had dinner with Seonghwa."

His eyes widen in surprise, "Seonghwa? You did?"

You nod, peering up at him and Wooyoung stands up from his seat and mirrors your position of leaning against the counter.

He nods, "That's really great, Y/N. Really...that's...I'm happy for you."

You don't know what to respond. You're happy too, heart full at 68% now and you smile lightly, staring at the floor.

You don't know what to say, so you just lean your head against Wooyoung's shoulder and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you to gently rub your shoulder.

You: hey...

You: can we meet today?

Mingi: Yes

Mingi: What time

Mingi: And where

When you get to the park in your neighborhood, Mingi is already waiting.

He's sitting on one of the empty benches staring at the sun that's slowly setting and you feel your heart pitter-patter with dread.

"Hi." You greet him, sitting down next to him but making sure there is some space between the two of you. Mingi gives you a small smile.

"Hey."

"Uh," You decide to start first, "I'm sorry for just leaving like that last week and then...not answering your texts and stuff, I needed some time to think about everything."

"...it's okay." He says quietly, still staring in front of himself before taking a deep sigh. "I want to tell you something before you say anything else."

"...okay." You abide, placing your small handbag in your lap as you basically straddle the bench so he can have your full attention. When Mingi notices your movement, he does the same thing.

He sighs again. "Remember two years ago, you asked me if I thought that you weren't worth the fight?" His eyes trail up to yours and you nod in confirmation in confusion. "Well, I definitely don't think that because I'm pretty sure I fought with Boyoung every single day for a whole year after you left."

You look at him in confusion and Mingi chuckles, "I might've not fought when it mattered but when I...turned you down...I was so angry and resented Boyoung so much for something that wasn't even her fault that I just nagged and snapped at her and..." He rubs his face with one hand, "I was so angry at myself for what I've done to you, what I said that day, that I took it all out on her until our friendship crumbled completely. She never even knew that the two of us had...a thing back then." He shrugs almost pitifully, "I ended up losing both of you in the end. I turned you down because I wanted to be a good friend I guess and then I wasn't a good friend because I liked you so much that I resented her until I chased her away."

"That's not my fa-"

"I'm not saying it's your fault." Mingi quickly interrupts you, voice soft and eyes reassuring, "It's my fault completely but I'm just telling you this in case you think I took what I did lightly. I realized I made it seem like that when I mentioned Wooyoung last time, like I was downplaying what I did but I always knew that I did wrong by you, I just never knew how to handle it properly."

He gently takes your hand, fingers starting to play with your own and he stares at your two intertwined hands while you stare at him, heart pitter-pattering again louder and louder.

"I'm sorry for what happened that day, for what I said and how I acted and for not...for being so fucking passive that I let you slip away without a fight because you are most certainly worth the fight, Y/N." Your eyes gloss over as you stare at him, "I'm sorry about last time as well, I had no right to attack you like that about San. I literally...I literally behaved the exact same as I did two years ago. Got insecure and took it out on you."

Mingi glances up at you, licking his lips nervously. "I'm really sorry. Whatever happens between us, I need you to know I'm sorry."

You nod after a moment of contemplation. "Thank you."

Now, it's your turn.

You've spent days tossing and turning in your bed at night, thinking if the choice you're about to make is the right one.

And you don't know. You may never know if it's the right choice or if it's something you will regret for the rest of your life but in this moment, it's your choice.

Only yours and no-one else's.

"Mingi, the reason why I asked you to meet me today is because I wanted to bring it all to an end in the right way..." His eyes falter a bit and you squeeze his hand, biting your lip before you continue, "I don't want you to...I guess that I don't want you to carry this burden with you anymore, what's done is done." You try to comb through your thoughts a bit better, jumbled mind making it hard to form sentences when he's staring at you and hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth, "What I'm trying to say is that I understand why you did what you did. I get it, objectively I can't blame you for it because I wish Wooyoung would've done the same for me." You chuckle and his mouth quirks up a bit.

"I forgive you...but I don't think we should be together." You continue and his eyes cast downwards again, your own start to burn as you try your hardest to blink away the tears, "I like you a lot, I already told you that but I can't get past it. I know myself, the first big fight we'd have when we'd be screaming at each other's faces and trying to take digs at each other, when I'd have nothing else to say, I would throw you not choosing me in your face because I'd know you wouldn't have anything else to say to that."

Mingi opens his mouth to refute you but you shake your head with a smile, "I would. I'm that kind of person. Even when I say that I forgive you, which I do, there is still a part of me that resents you and I don't think that will ever change."

You look down at your joined hands, "And you don't deserve that. You don't deserve to have to tip-toe around someone you're in a relationship with or be with someone that resents you in any way for something you've done two years ago and I...I deserve to be someone's first choice in that moment. I deserve to have someone choose me."

"I'm choosing you now." Mingi says, voice hoarse and you look away to stop the flood of tears from coming.

"There's nothing to choose from now." You say quietly. No decision to be made, only cheapened stakes that make the choice obvious.

You gently graze his cheek with your free hand and he picks up his eyes to look at you. He seems on the verge of tears as well.

"You're a good guy...you're a great guy. I'm not doing this out of pettiness or because I'm trying to punish you or something. You...you were the closest thing I ever had to love." His face crumbles a bit at that and you can't keep the influx of tears at bay anymore, "But I deserve to have someone choose me when things get hard and I don't want to continue this relationship that will become emotional torture for both of us sooner or later because it will, it's just how the two of us are it seems..."

"I still think we made a mistake by starting a relationship like this again but..." You trail off, thumb still running circles on his cheek as his eyes bore into yours and bigger hand squeezes yours, "But I don't regret a single second of it even if it ended. It was a really great summer, I enjoyed spending it with you." You give him a watery smile.

"I'm sorry." He whispers shakily and your smile falters, tears still streaming down your cheeks and collarbones, getting soaked up by your shirt.

"Me too." You whisper back, leaning over and pressing your lips to his. A small indulgence you allow yourself just this time before pulling away and burying your face in his neck.

Mingi's arms quickly wrap around you, as he pulls you deeper into his chest and his hand smooths your hair falling down your back.

You don't know how long you stay crying, wrapped up in each other but the sun sets, the night encapsulates you and with the utmost strength you part from him.

You bid Mingi one last goodbye with a smile and then turn around and walk away.

When you walk into your apartment, all the lights are off and you hear Wooyoung in his room probably watching something on his laptop. So you quietly strip and pull on your pajamas before washing your face squeaky clean and then your teeth, trying not to dwell on how red and puffy your eyes are as you stare into the mirror's reflection before tip-toeing to his side of the hall and into his room.

He's laying in bed with his laptop on his lap watching 'Succession' you believe and he turns to you, surprised.

"Hey-" You don't allow him to finish, you quietly climb into his bed and snuggle into his side.

Wooyoung is still faintly frozen in surprise but he lets out a small breath and moves his arm to wrap it around you, "You okay?"

You nod.

"I'm okay."

Time stops for no-one.

The days continue to trickle by. You see Seonghwa more often (usually for coffee or lunch) and each time you do it feels like it gets easier to talk to him.You know that one day, it will be like when you were thirteen again - when it was the two of you against the world. 

(He never mentions San and you never ask.)

Only this time you have Wooyoung as well, with whom you go back to normal easily. Easier than you expected after the initial bump in the road, you never ask about Yeosang though and he never mentions him which you think is a bit unfair to Yeosang.

Now, you might not like the guy all that much but...obviously Wooyoung doesn't plan on letting him go any time soon.

So against your better judgement, you tell Wooyoung that he can invite Yeosang (and Butter) to hang out at your apartment. You invite Seonghwa as well.

It's been a couple of weeks since you stopped working at the publishing company and are back to being a freelancer and doing illustrations for smaller businesses while focusing on your own art in between.

On that God forsaken Friday, you invite Seonghwa and Yeosang back to your place after work and Wooyoung orders take-out and buys beers for everyone.

Yeosang and you don't talk much. You don't really have much to say besides the times it is polite to speak to him but hey, at least the animosity is gone.

He seems to be shy and timid towards you and it takes you by surprise as those were the words you never associated him with before but Wooyoung doesn't seem surprised at all, so you conclude that Yeosang may be a shy person in general only you never saw it because you two were constantly at each other's throats.

Wooyoung puts on Succession again which seems to be a new obsession of his and you don't mind, finding the character of Roman Roy to be quite amusing as you all sit in the living room with the food and drinks and watch the show, someone throwing in a comment or two once in awhile.

"Hey," Seonghwa calls out from the other side of the couch and you turn to him in question, "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

You glance at Wooyoung and Yeosang who notice the conversation but don't pay it much thought. You nod at Seonghwa before you motion for him to follow you.

"Oh, cozy set-up you got here." He says, throwing himself on the chair by your desk, you chuckle sitting down on your bed.

"Thanks. So what's up?" You ask, leaning back on your palms.

"So," He drags out with a small grin, "I was thinking, I'm going to New York next month for work but nothing too much, it's more out of courtesy than anything."

You blink at him, "Okay?"

"How would you like to come with?" He asks, eyes gleaming with excitement.

You frown faintly, "Is this...does this have anything to do with mom or dad-"

"What? No! Fuck them!" Seonghwa interrupts you quickly, "So? You wanna go?"

You chuckle as you stare at him in disbelief, "To New York?"

"Yep. Three weeks."

"Three weeks? I can't go to New York for three weeks, Hwa." You scold him and he frowns at you.

"Why not? You work from home now, right? It might be good for some new inspiration, y'know, might meet some new connections there. I can set you up, I know people." He winks at you and you roll yours. Seonghwa barely knows any people. "We could spend time together, just the two of us. Autumn in New York is something else from what I hear."

"And I hear they have rats the size of skunks. Definitely something else." You deadpan and he laughs.

"That might be something new to see as well."

You sigh, "I have to think about it. Three weeks isn't that short of a time."

"Well, you can always return early or something." Your brother shrugs in response, already standing up from the chair.

"That's it?" You ask, wondering if that was all he wanted to talk about.

"Well, yeah. Just wanted to ask." He chuckles, moving towards the door.

"I'll think about it..."

"Okay."

When you both return to the living room, you notice Wooyoung not even hiding the way he eyes you while Yeosang glares at him.

"And what were you two whispering about that the rest of us can't hear, hm?" He asks nosily, crossing his arms over his chest as Yeosang facepalms.

"Nosy ass." You mutter, plopping down in the seat next to him on the couch.

"I was just asking Y/N if she wanted to come to New York with me next month." Seonghwa explains with an easy smile, being the ever people pleaser he was.

"New York?!" Wooyoung quickly passes the current episode as he turns to you with wide eyes. "You can't leave for New York, what if you don't come back?!" He cries out.

"You are so ridiculous, why wouldn't I come back?"

"So you're going?!"

"Well, I said I'll think about it but I'll definitely come back to Korea, Wooyoung, for the last time, I live here." You roll your eyes in humor as Seonghwa snorts from the other side of the couch.

"New York is nice during fall, the Central Park..." Yeosang trails off once all three of you turn to stare at him. Wooyoung is glaring at his boyfriend.

"Wooooow, Yeosang, don't be so happy. I bet you just can't wait to see me go." You drawl out with a stoic face and you see Yeosang pale, quickly glancing at Wooyoung and blinking rapidly. You almost feel bad when you think he might cry.

Wooyoung laughs, pulling his boyfriend closer by the neck, "She's fucking with you."

Yeosang turns to you again like a deer caught in headlights and you glance at him before turning to the screen again.

"Not you just wanting me to leave so you can..." You motion with your chin towards your best friend who sits between the two of you with a shit-eating grin, "Just so you can do things to my Wooyoung, Yeosang."

Yeosang gapes at you, cheeks flushing red and you press your lips to stop the grin from showing as you go back to watching the TV. Seonghwa snorts but Wooyoung goes all out, almost throwing himself in your lap from laughter.

The sound of it makes your facade break and you let a small smile show once you see the look of pure happiness on Wooyoung's face.

Poor Yeosang, completely red in the face, glances between all of you before pointing at himself, "Me-" Then points to Wooyoung, "-doing things to him?"

"Hey-" Wooyoung tries to defend himself but the laughter overtakes him again.

"Y/N, your best friend is the literal Spawn of Satan." Yeosang deadpans, smacking Wooyoung's thigh who tries to pull him closer but Yeosang smacks him away again lightly, "I am the innocent one here who somehow gets caught up in all of his debauchery."

Seonghwa laughs loudly at that and you let out a laugh as well because you can definitely see that to be true.

"Oh, somehow gets caught up!" Wooyoung rolls his eyes at Yeosang, voice sarcastic. "Oh, okay!"

Once the laughter and teasing has died down, Yeosang leans back on the couch with a small grin, throwing you a glance that you pretend not to notice.

Two days later, you text Seonghwa.

You: new york sounds nice.

(One year later)

One room is the bedroom while the smaller one across the hall is designated for the art supplies, a big wooden sketching desk with papers thrown across it pulled up to the window, painting aisles leaning up in every corner and blank or filled canvases stacked up against the wall. A huge book shelf stretches across the wall filled with pencils and brushes all divided into neat jars and other art supplies lining the shelves below it.

The kitchen is a pretty marble green color with cooking books that she doesn't really touch that often stacked up in an open cupboard and a small shelf for spices that her best friend set up, especially for her. The counter is filled with whatever newest hobby is occupying her time, currently it's building Lego sets. Magnets on the fridge that she started to collect over time along with a postcard from Tokyo.

There are fresh flowers in a see-through vase on the dinning table made out of dark wood (it is used for most Friday night dinners, as they say she has the prettiest apartment now).

In the living room, her favorite show plays on the TV and there is a row of waxed autumn leaves from Central Park hanging above the big screen.

A cozy couch with mismatched pillows and a soft duvet for rainy days along with a coffee table and a colorful rug she got from her grandma as a housewarming gift. And another bookshelf, this one filled with candles, knick-knacks and souvenirs, an old CD player and an array of framed photos that appear all over the apartment.

Some with her best friend, arms thrown around one another in front of the Eiffel Tower, another one of the two of them cheesing at the camera. Some with her brother from the trip to New York. Some of her best friend and his boyfriend with her wedged in between, all three wearing bright smiles and eyes crinkled as they stare in the camera. Two side by side of a certain friend with orange hair, that she met when she was crying in a library, from her trip to Tokyo where she spent last New Years Eve.

There is one with her brother and her, one aged six and the other almost ten, cheeks smudged from chocolate and both having terrible haircuts that they'll get teased about relentlessly as they hug each other clumsily and smile for the camera.

Two big windows stretch across the other wall, the curtains moved to the sides and allowing the sunrays to seep inside along with the view of the park across the street and the market next to it, there is a lower shelf set up underneath the windows with a record player on top and filled with miscellaneous items like records, CDs, books, more candles and magazines.

The windows are wide open letting in the fresh morning air in, the birds chirp and there is laughter heard from kids heading to school so early in the morning.

On the wall next to the windows, there is a drawing framed.

It's her. The girl with smiles made out of rusty nails and little sparks of electricity coming from empty eye sockets. That's her place now. Only all of the moss covered parts, the rusty nails, the loose bolts and screws that she hid for so long are covered by marigolds, violets and daisies which daintily envelop each crevice, make each loose bolt stronger and replace missing pieces that aren't coming back.

She is whole now.

[berryunho]

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THE ANSWER: XXVIII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 14,305 chapter warnings: alcohol consumption

Your month drags on. Despite the heightened activity around the farm, nothing much changes in your day-to-day schedule. You wake up at the same time, listen to Hongjoong ramble for the same amount of time, eat the same meals with the same people, and eventually sleep at the same time. Even book club is monotonous, barely even happening— but that might have more to do with the fact that Seonghwa (who conducts most of your lessons) seems even less enthused about having to spend an hour talking to you than you are. 

Which is strange— ish. Not that you expected much different from him, but you had thought that… or, well, at least, you weren’t feeling such a burning hatred for him anymore, so, maybe… 

But that’s silly. Of course Seonghwa still doesn’t give a rat's ass about you, why would he? All you’ve ever done is be a pain in his side. Even when he’s… comforted you in the past… its been to relieve his own discomfort or guilty conscious, not to actually help you. Probably.

You truly have no idea. Seonghwa is an enigma. 

In a way, though, you’re glad that he’s at least mostly off your case. Maybe due to your slight mental breakdown after seeing the… thing… Seonghwa seems to be less eager to poke fun at you. Not nice by any standards, but he’s certainly less devious around you. 

Which also means that he hasn’t been prying into your personal life. Thankfully. With the secret of your escape looming over your every thought, it would be just like you to accidentally slip-up in front of Seonghwa and blow the whole thing. 

Instead, he keeps things very formal. He doesn’t put his hands on you, he doesn’t stare at your face with that scrunched-up look, he doesn’t ask questions about you or your day or San or anything else. He talks to you about The Answer and lets you leave after. 

Though the arrangement is a bit startling at first, you get used to it quickly. Hongjoong appears less and less at these meetings, not even making an appearance in the last two weeks of the month. You have no idea what he could possibly be so busy doing, but you’re not complaining. 

Over the course of the month, there were several more rituals, similar to the tune of the one that you had participated in. Luckily, you were not called to participate in any of them, and no more— and your hesitant to even give whatever happened a name, but— Guardians appear to confuse and scare the everliving fuck out of you. 

More and more, you find yourself absentmindedly reaching to touch the pins on the collar of your shirt, fiddling with them whenever your hands are free. You want to think that it has nothing to do with Hongjoong’s bullshit about the Sign protecting you… and it doesn’t! Not at all! That would be crazy! It’s just a habit. Like spinning a ring or twisting a necklace. 

… You’ll go with that, anyways. 

Occasionally, you still have nightmares about your encounter. What a horrible night that all was. Obviously, there still is nothing in you that can believe that Guardians are real. That would be silly. And insane. But it’s only natural that you’re still upset about the whole situation. Whatever had happened, it had scared the shit out of you. It affected you— it makes sense that your subconscious would be fixated on such a traumatic memory. 

Right…? Or maybe you’re still actively thinking about that night and what the fuck had happened. Could it have been what Hongjoong said? Could he be right? Or were you blitzed out on some mysterious drug and everyone else was just lying about what they saw? Could Hongjoong manage that?

He probably could. It couldn’t be that hard for him to convince the entire cult into gaslighting you into believing that they had all seen the thing, too. But San… He wouldn’t lie to you about it, right? You find that very hard to believe. 

Thinking on it, San had, of course, never outright said that he had seen the same thing as you— you had never spoken in detail with him about it… But he was disturbed enough to set your escape into motion, which must count for something. Maybe he had seen a Guardian and was terrified enough to run. 

These sorts of thoughts dominate your month. 

You had volunteered to help out with the harvest, almost pleading with San for something to do. You were sure that Wooyoung would take your help back in the kitchens, but Hongjoong denied you any opportunity that seemed to come your way. He wanted you with San, where he could see you. 

Which is stupid, in your opinion. Hongjoong has the Followers, all of whom are incredibly devoted to him; any of them would give you up in a heartbeat if they saw you trying anything that you shouldn’t. He could assign literally anyone to watch you while you did a task, and it would achieve the same thing as having San at your side. But no. You were forced to rot in your apartment, glancing over San’s shoulder to his laptop on occasion, hoping to see something that could brighten your mood (or give you more information). 

Most of the time, you watch out your window, hoping to snag another glance at Mingi. There are a few times when you can see him in the field, but the Followers make quick work of the harvest nearest the compound, and move farther and farther away as the month rolls onward. Sometimes, you swear you can see his hair in the distance, reflecting the sun so brightly. It gets harder and harder to remember why you fought. Why you were holding a grudge. Could you really blame him for having your best interests at heart?

Sure, he had been a little possessive and freaky, but, like, he was kind of telling the truth. And he was just trying to make sure that San wasn’t hurting you.

You’re probably just making excuses for him, now, as you miss his company. Here you were, a cult member, locked away in an apartment, all for him— and you don’t even have him. You can’t even speak with him freely. The irony isn’t lost on you. 

Anyways, it doesn’t come as much of a shock when Hongjoong announces that the harvest is complete. Though the month might have been one of the longest of your life, watching the field workers get farther and farther away everyday at least gave you a sense of time passing. When even their tractors were tiny specks that you could hardly see without squinting, it was clear that the work was almost finished. 

The announcement is met with much fanfare, though you’re not sure why. From what you make of it, Halloween is always the date on which the harvest celebration occurs. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that the harvest is over, especially with the date looming so soon, but the Followers all seem overjoyed. Maybe they’re all just ready to relax after a long, toiling month. 

That said, the day itself comes much faster than you anticipated. Hongjoong made the announcement of the end of the Harvest on the 25th of the month, leaving six days between the sermon for celebration and the actual ceremony itself. 

Which left you with six days to finish your mental preparations for your escape. 

San had refined your plan over the month, including making a timeline of the night and the places you should find yourself. He took over the entire plan, which you really couldn’t be more thankful for. His knowledge of the farm and the workings of the cult provided a level of security that you would have never been able to achieve on your own. 

In essence, the plan remained the same. When the ceremonial party began at 6pm, you would have nothing to worry about… besides socializing for the next nine hours. Just follow the vibes, and you would be okay. San was sure that you would have free reign during the party, that you’d be allowed to be away from a higher-ups side once the alcohol was flowing. At three, you would meet with San near the front doors, trying to not be seen, and make your way into the woods beyond the compound, where San will have stashed your car in the days leading up to the ceremony (it was as he was telling you this that he admitted to having the keys to your car in his office this entire time). 

Despite the simplicity of the plan, you figured that it would probably work. As long as you didn’t raise any suspicions in the coming days, and as long as everything went smoothly on Halloween, there was no reason to dwell on the possibility of it failing. 

Another failed escape attempt was unlikely to be something that you would survive, you knew this. Even with Hongjoong’s delusional belief that you are someone important to him and his religion, you weren’t sure he could tolerate this level of disobedience— at the very least, it would be disastrous if you failed. At worst, you would be leading San and yourself to early graves. 

Maybe Hongjoong’s twisted dependence on you would mean that he couldn’t kill you… But you weren’t going to count on it. He had threatened your life in the past, and you were quite certain that he meant it. He would be able to reason out a way that killing you made sense, if you pissed him off enough.

So. You simply had to make sure that you did not fail. Because you didn’t want to find out what Hongjoong would do with you if you did. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

Much like the rest of the month, the few days leading up to Halloween also fly by before you can appreciate the gravity of your situation. 

Your stomach churns all morning. You chalk it up to nerves, the most obvious explanation for an upset stomach, but part of you wonders if there wasn’t something wrong with your dinner last night. 

Hongjoong announces the party to be held that evening during the morning service, like San had said that he would. You wring your hands together at San’s side, avoiding Hongjoong’s eyes. There’s a small part of you that is so sure that he would be able to figure you out entirely if he got a glimpse into your eyes. You just try to focus on the activity at hand, listening to Hongjoong with an impassive look on your face. 

You must do an alright job, as Hongjoong allows you to leave the chapel with San at the conclusion of the service. You’re even able to eat breakfast in peace, which actually does surprise you. Though Hongjoong had been exceedingly busy over the month, he still typically made time to freak you out most days. 

But San and you are able to sneak away after breakfast, back to your apartment, without a word from anyone. 

As soon as San shuts and locks the door behind him, he asks, “Are you still feeling alright? Up to this?” 

You blink across the room at him, hardly needing a moment to assure him that you very much still are ready to make your escape. You ask if he’s feeling the same way, to which he agrees. 

“Just a little nervous, I guess,” he explains, shrugging. “That’s normal, right?” 

“Of course it is.” You’re sure that San is no stranger to Hongjoong’s wrath; you don’t need to wonder why he’s nervous. Once again, you’re struck by emotion as you realize what San is doing for you, what he’s risking and what he’s giving up. 

He smiles. “What should we do, after we’re out of here?” 

You sit down on the couch, thinking through your answer, “I think we should just show up on one of my friend’s doorsteps and freak the shit out of them.” 

San laughs, rolling his eyes. “I meant more long-term, but we can do that, too.” 

Oh… Long-term. You still hadn’t broached the subject about… well, blowing the whistle on this place again, ever since San flipped out when you suggested it. You certainly still planned on doing exactly that, and you really don’t think that you need San’s approval to do so, either. Like, if you escape and just let this be, aren’t you basically an accomplice to all of the crime? 

The last thing you plan to do with your life is go to prison for Hongjoong, so you’re very much resolved in what you have to do… whether San agrees with you or not. 

“Well,” you start, “when’s the last time you saw your parents? Where did you live before you came here?” 

San sighs dramatically, making his way to sit next to you. “Sheesh, don’t remind me. They’re gonna kill me.” 

“They’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.” You think of your own parents, who will probably also be a little upset… but hopefully mostly pleased that you’re still alive. 

San agrees with you easily enough about his parents, before adding, “Is this a bad time to mention that the Followers have been paying your rent since you went missing?” He asks, “So everything should still be there.” 

You gape at him. “Are you serious? How?” 

You know for a fact that your rent could only be paid through a pain in the ass portal with a very specific and strange ID and password. 

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You had the info saved in your phone… so…” 

Puzzled. You are puzzled. Why would they go to such lengths to just keep your shit in your apartment? You had long since assumed that your landlord had probably broken down the door and left your stuff on the curb. 

Well, you remind yourself, it actually hasn’t been that long. Though it feels like you’ve been on this farm for the better part of your life, it has really only been… what, two and a half months? Maybe your landlord would give you some leeway, but… no need to worry about it, you guess. 

But why would they even do that? It’s not like your rent was cheap. What would they gain from keeping your apartment intact? The illusion of life? 

That’s probably it, you realize. Just a front to make it look like you, in fact, weren’t a missing person. Part of you wants to freak out at San, realizing that he must be the person that orchestrated all of this, but you’re too far past that. If you start being mad at him for doing his job, you’re going to have to be mad about a lot of things. Things that you can look past for the fact of what he’s helping you do tonight. 

“Speaking of my phone, can I get that back?” 

San, relieved that you don’t seem mad, smiles. “I’ll grab it tonight.” 

“Can’t I have it now?” 

He hesitates at that, inclining his head in question, “any particular reason?” 

You shouldn’t need to give him a reason, so you shake your head. 

“It’s probably best to keep it where it is, in case someone goes looking for it.” 

… Ominous. Who would be looking for your phone? 

But he’s probably right. And it’s not like there would be much to do on it, anyways. You’re not going to call the cops now, not when your escape is looming closer and closer with each minute that passes. You can’t jeopardize it now. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

You’re a little surprised that dinner carries on as normal, without any extra fanfare. Though no one had mentioned one, you had kind of expected there to be another ceremony of sorts. But, no, dinner is normal. You sit with San and Wooyoung, the rest of the table almost awkwardly empty as the three of you eat in relative silence.

How is Wooyoung going to react when he wakes up tomorrow and you’re both gone? He’s going to be pissed. But, maybe, he’ll realize that you wouldn’t leave him here. Surely, after what he told you, he knows that you wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t have it in your heart to let him rot here, knowing what Hongjoong did to bend him to his will… or, at least, having an inkling of an idea. 

Before you know it, Hongjoong is standing at the head of the room, commanding the attention of the cafeteria. The room falls into a hush, no one speaks as Hongjoong starts his speech. 

“Everyone,” he addresses the room, “Loyal Followers of the Answer, it is with great joy that I officially conclude our harvest season.”

The room bursts into a polite applause, smiles shared around the tables as the Followers celebrate their leader’s message. 

“Despite a rocky start, we were very fortunate to remain safe for the duration of the month.” Hongjoong, for the first time that day, finds your eyes. “I put my thanks in the faith of our Followers, those who kept our protections strong all month long. Though it may seem that there was no danger at all, this is only thanks to their courage.” 

San reaches across the table to squeeze your hand, giving you a small smile. 

“As always, we will celebrate our safety and our bountiful harvest— which Jongho assures me will last us through the winter and beyond— tonight. Everyone of age shall participate; I do not expect anyone to hold back on anyone’s account, especially not my own. This success is as much yours as it is mine.

“Please, imbibe freely, socialize freely, celebrate your victory over evil. We start now, and we will not stop until dawn.” Hongjoong grabs his glass from the table behind him, saluting the room with it before downing the amber liquid. 

Again, the room applauds, though more raucously. Wooyoung excuses himself from your table, headed back to the kitchens. Soon after, Followers emerge with trays and trays of various specialty glassware, each filled with their respective (you assume) alcohols. Not long after, Wooyoung exits the kitchen with a rolling cart filled with, perhaps, more bottles of alcohol than you have ever seen in one place at one time (which was saying a lot, considering the bars you had frequented with Mingi in college). 

Without anyone’s encouragement, Followers begin congregating at the front of the room, helping themselves to the multitude of drinks available. You’re even surprised to see that someone brought out a case of Coke, presumably for mixing. When was the last time you saw coke? They must’ve made a run into town recently, you realize, though it couldn’t have had the same importance as when San went. 

You shrug it off. Not like it matters much, anyhow. San stands, offering his hand to you. You take it, graciously, prepared to get this night started. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

There is an attempt to pace yourself, considering that you’re going to need to be at least a little coherent later tonight, but… well… it’s been a long time. And you are well aware of the fact that you have, like, basically 10 hours. That’s enough time to get drunk and then sober, if you play your cards right. 

So play them, you do. San sticks to your side like glue for the first couple hours, watching you carefully as you put away more than your fair share of drinks. He drinks, as well, but nowhere near at the speed or quantity you do. You’re vaguely aware that you probably should slow down, but why would you, when you’re surrounded by… like, tons of dudes that would protect you, and you include Hongjoong in that count. 

By nine, you are positively drunk, blissfully unaware of the worries from the morning. What is there to worry about? You’re having the time of your life, do you even want to leave? Why would you leave? The thought makes you laugh, not surprisingly. 

You flit around the cafeteria, having lost San a while ago. Or maybe it was only a few minutes ago… It doesn’t matter. You talk to a lot of people, introducing yourself and smiling when they tell you they know who you are. It almost makes you feel a little guilty, but it mostly makes you happy. So many lovely people know your name and your face and they know that Hongjoong thinks you're so important. How amazing! Tomorrow, you probably wouldn’t be able to repeat a single one of their names, but that doesn’t matter. 

The time flies as you keep talking to new people, your mind completely distracted from the plans you have for later. You do slow down your drinking, eventually, though that’s more so due to the fact that you’re too far away from the bar table to bother going back to it than anything else. 

More than a few times, you find yourself staring at Mingi, and, more often than not, he’s staring at you, as well. Maybe he’s worried about you…? The thought makes you blush. Mingi… Oh, Mingi. He looks so handsome tonight, too. His hair is still red, still bright, and his outfit is beautifully fitted to his bulky body. Phew. You almost need to fan yourself. 

Eventually, sometime, you’re not sure what time, you end up talking with Yunho. He is clearly not even a little bit drunk, you might even say he was stone-cold sober if not for the glass in his hands. Though you thought that he hated your guts, he still seemed a little amused by your presence, a small smile on his face as he has to catch your forearm a couple times. The drunk part of you wonders if you could get away with feeling his biceps, he’s just so tall and so handsome, but even you know it would probably be wrong to feel him up. 

You couldn’t repeat a word of your conversation to anyone, not even seconds after it happened; not that you think it particularly matters. After Yunho, you find Wooyoung and Yeosang, and you can distinctly remember thanking Wooyoung for the incredible selection, but… yeah, that’s about it. 

While you’re about to go talk to Jongho, who looks like he could use some company, a hand wraps around your elbow, tugging you backwards. Not one to argue, you spin around, ready to follow whoever it is. Seonghwa stares down at you, an incredulous expression on his face. 

“Hi, Hwa,” you smile up at him, grabbing his free hand with yours. 

His expression morphs from confusion to disgust. “Do not call me that. How much have you had to drink?” 

You shrug, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth. “Enough to have a good time. What about you?” 

“Certainly less than that,” he tugs you back toward the cafeteria tables that had, apparently, been mostly moved out of the way at one point. “Trust me, you don’t want to bother Jongho tonight.” 

You hadn’t planned on bothering him, just keeping him company, but you figured that Seonghwa wouldn’t see it the same way. 

“What time is it?” You ask him, only remembering that you’re wearing a watch after the words leave your mouth. 

“10:44. Got somewhere to be?” 

“Nope,” you pop the p sound, following his lead as he ushers for you to sit down at the table. 

Time continues to fly by, though Seonghwa isn’t as good of a conversation partner as the other people you’ve been spending your time with. He also doesn’t let you drink anymore, instead insisting that you drink water, refilling your glass every time you empty it. Lame. 

As the minutes pass, though, you can feel yourself coming back to reality. You definitely aren’t sober, very far from sober, but the lights stop being bright and you stop being amused by everything that Seonghwa says and does pretty quickly. You also excuse yourself to the restroom more than a few times, though you dutifully return to the same table each time. 

The night progresses, and you find yourself making eye contact with Mingi more and more. Like, seriously, basically everytime that you happen to look at him, he’s already looking at you. Besides the one time you look over and see him engaged in conversation with Hongjoong, you appear to have his rapt attention. 

You try to look around the room for San, but there are so many Followers and it’s kind of dark and you’re still not in your right mind, so you give up pretty quickly. You have no idea what it is that he could be doing, besides preparing for your escape, so you just let it be. Better to not ask after him and then have the others asking the same questions. 

Though he had stopped you from drinking, Seonghwa had not stopped himself. He paces himself much better than you had, but he keeps drinking as the night wears on, eventually starting to open up a bit more with you. He also lets you get another drink, which you happily allow yourself, as you start to feel much too aware of your situation once more. 

“You know,” Seonghwa mutters, leaning closer to you, “this is, essentially, Hongjoong’s birthday party.”

You pull away from him, confusion evident on your face. “It’s his birthday?” 

“In a week.” He sips his drink, grimacing at the taste. “But he doesn’t make a big deal of it on the actual day, so here we are.” 

You’re actually rather surprised to hear this, and from Seonghwa no less. It’s strange that Hongjoong doesn’t want his birthday to be a huge thing considering his, you know, enormous ego and narcissism issue. Maybe he doesn’t like everyone knowing how old he is. Kind of takes away the appeal, knowing that he’s… how old is he? He can’t be much older than you, just given what you know about him and Seonghwa (who you know to be the same age). You’d ask Seonghwa, but it kind of seems like he wants you to ask, so you’re not going to. 

Instead, you sip your own drink, trying to look like you’re thoughtfully processing and tucking this information away for later. Why would you ever need to remember Hongjoong’s birthday, especially after tonight? Your stomach rolls over as you have this thought, the reminder of your plan being truly nauseating. 

“When's your birthday?” You ask instead, propping your elbow onto the table. 

Seonghwa looks momentarily taken aback, but responds easily enough, “April third.” 

“Far away, then,” you frown. Another realization hits you. “You’re older than Hongjoong.” 

He shrugs, “Believe it or not.” 

For whatever reason, this is, in fact, slightly disconcerting. 

But you ignore that feeling, opting to look around the crowded room. Hongjoong himself is mingling with Yeosang and Wooyoung, both of whom look incredibly pleased to have their leader's attention. Wooyoung is not shy with his hands, clutching the Hongjoong’s arm close to his chest as they speak. Vaguely, you wonder if he’s feeling okay. You’re still not sure how he can be so loyal to someone that apparently had him… what? Tortured? Who even knows. Stockholm syndrome is a real thing, you guess. For once, Hongjoong doesn't sense your gaze, staying completely unaware until your eyes shift away. 

Immediately, perhaps unsurprisingly, at this point, you make eye contact with Mingi. You hold it this time, tilting your head in question as if asking him if he needs something. He’s certainly acting like it, with all this staring, but he looks away from you, resuming his conversation with a Follower you haven't met before. Like everyone else, he still sports a drink in his hand, dutifully sipping it every lull. 

“Princess, can I ask you a question?” Seonghwa speaks across from you, calling your attention back to him. You incline your head in the affirmative, and he asks, “Why did it take you so long to come after him?” 

The question takes you off guard, probably for the fact that you wonder it yourself. You take another drink, looking down at the wood grain on the table. 

“Too personal? I figured.” Seonghwa takes your silence as an unwillingness to respond.

“No,” you're quick to deny him, “it's not that. I just don't know the answer.” 

As horrible as it sounds, the real answer to the question is simply… you were busy. Life happened. You didn’t have any reason to suspect that he disappeared due to malicious circumstances. Finishing university was your top priority— plenty of your friendships fell to the wayside as you wrapped up your degree. And, by the time you graduated, it didn’t seem pertinent. You always figured that, if you reached out, he would answer. Hell, his mom told you where he was, if she knew about this place, at least to some extent, you couldn’t blame yourself for not knowing what it would end up being. 

If you had known the truth, you think, you would’ve come sooner. Of course you would have. There is no universe where you let Mingi go through this terror alone… though that’s essentially what’s happened since your argument and the rift in your relationship. 

Whatever the case, it seems silly to worry about now. You're here. There were a few months where Mingi was here alone, and the idea of those few months horrifies you. Knowing that Mingi went through a Choosing ceremony without any kind of internal support system makes you feel sick… but, you have to admit, he did pretty alright. Sure, he's traumatized and changed and brainwashed, but at least he has friends and a purpose and, well, he seems happy… ish. There's nothing you could've done if you had been here earlier, so it's no use dreading on it. You still would've been kept apart, and there still would've been the same circumstances. 

You take a look at your watch, sighing as it informs you that the time is 11:52 p.m., not nearly as late as you were hoping that it would be. 

Seonghwa huffs at your non-answer, tucking his hair away from his face to stare at you harder. “Sometimes I feel like I can hear your thoughts just from watching your expression change. Mingi wasn’t better off before you got here, if that is what you were thinking.” 

It wasn’t, but, like, that’s kind of close. 

You shake your head, sliding your drink across the table between your hands. “It’s not that I think he was better off… Just that he did alright for himself in the meantime.” 

His face twists, though you’re not sure what emotion he’s trying to convey. “Do you even remember what happened when you tried to leave?” 

Your eyes meet his. 

“He had you back for, what, two days, and then completely broke down.” Seonghwa glances back over at Mingi. “I don’t think he’s been the same since you did that.” 

“You can’t guilt trip me into forgetting my need for self-preservation,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray any sense of, well, guilt. 

He rolls his eyes, looking back at you. “In case you haven’t noticed, Princess, you are very much still alive.” He mutters something else under his breath as he picks up his drink, taking quite a few consecutive swallows. 

You mirror his actions. Hopefully, you can keep it that way.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

In a stroke of luck, Seonghwa let you keep drinking until you found yourself teetering between tipsy and drunk, again. He kept drinking, but he didn’t really keep entertaining you, instead wandering off to do his own socializing. You do try to keep yourself under control, though considering that it’s almost time. 

You take a look at your watch, surprised to see that it’s already 2:15. Blinking through the haze of your tipsiness, it sure seems like 2:15 is an okay time to get a move on, right? Like, surely no one will notice if you slip out now instead of in, like, twenty minutes or whenever you and San had agreed he would grab you. 

Plus, if anyone did notice, you could just say that you needed some air. It wouldn’t be hard to believe, looking at the state of you. You would quite enjoy a nice breath of fresh air. You could always come back inside if it felt like it was too early, or if you got a bad feeling. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to sneak off for just a moment. 

In a brief look around the room, you don’t find anyone paying any particular attention to yourself. In fact, you can see Hongjoong and Seonghwa engrossed in conversation, about as far away as could be. Seonghwa’s hand rests on Hongjoong’s shoulder, a demure smile on his face as he listens to Hongjoong speak. Most of the other Followers in the room all seem significantly more drunk than yourself, with hardly a person meeting your eyes for any longer than a second. 

No one will notice, you’re positive. 

As you begin your attempt to shuffle your way through the crowd toward the hall, a hand grasps your elbow, stopping you in place, for the second time that night. 

Despite the looks that he had been giving you all night, you’re still a bit surprised to see Mingi looking down at you when you spin around to see who the hand belongs to. Your plans to go get a breath of fresh air fall out the window at the sight of him. Why would you need fresh air when Mingi is standing in front of you? He has just about the same effect on you. 

At first, he doesn’t seem to have anything to say, but, if you know anything about Mingi, it’s that he yaps when he’s drunk. And he clearly is, judging from the rosy tinge of his face and the awkward smile he wears as he looks at you, a smile that sends you straight back to college. It’s as if he’s completely forgotten everything that’s happened in the past couple months, forgotten the arguments and the anger and the time that has passed. 

“Hey,” he greets you, having to raise his voice over the din of the party. 

“Hey,” you greet him in turn, politely waiting for him to continue. 

“Can I—” he stops, opting to lean his head closer to yours so that he can talk into your ear. His hand stays on your elbow, locking you in place (not that you would’ve moved away from him, anyways, being tipsy and all). “Can we talk in private?” He asks, his voice deep in a way that you had almost forgotten. 

Nodding, you allow him to retract himself and lead you away, toward the hall that you had originally been aiming for. When the door shuts behind the two of you, the party sounds fade; the two of you isolated from the rest of the world. 

Well, the two of you and a few other Followers that linger in the hall, but close enough. Mingi doesn’t seem bothered by their presence, and you really aren’t either. You’re sure that you haven’t had a truly private conversation with Mingi since before he went missing, given that he apparently seeks Hongjoong’s advice for everything. Anyways, the presence of a few stragglers doesn’t worry you. 

Mingi drops your arm, awkwardly smoothing his dress shirt. “You look nice. Pretty.” 

“Thanks,” you smile, leaning your back against the wall— partly in an effort to keep your balance.  “What did you wanna talk about?” 

He shrugs, observing the hallway like he had never seen it before. “Just wanted to talk. We haven’t talked in a looooooonnngggggggggg time.” 

Part of you wants to ask him who’s fault that is, but that would be cruel, so you don’t. “It has been a while now.” You agree instead, glancing at your watch. 2:22… which is basically 2:25, which is basically 2:30… already. Nerves wash over you again as you clench your hands in front of you. 

“If I’m being honest— and I always want to be honest with you, you know— Hongjoong said that I should talk to you because he thought it would be good for you to hear my thoughts about the situation and also because he said that he thought that you seemed bummed out that we haven’t been talking and that made me sad so I’m taking his advice and talking to you.” Mingi says after taking one deep breath, not stopping for a moment. “Also Yunho said that you still seemed kind of mad and I can’t take the thought of you being mad at me anymore so basically what I wanted to say was that I’m sorry.” 

Blinking, a pout forms on your face at his explanation. He had been worrying about you and your relationship. You could’ve reached out to him at any point in the last month, but hadn’t out of fear that he was still upset with you. And here he was, apologizing. 

“Mingi,” you wring your hands harder together, “it really isn’t important anymore. I stopped being angry a long time ago.” 

He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “It is important, (Y/n), I don’t want this to go unsaid. I’m sorry for confronting you and acting like a douchebag, I’m sorry for scaring you, I’m sorry for questioning you about San, which was absolutely none of my business, I’m sorry for yelling and fighting him and ignoring you for weeks and sending San dirty looks whenever I saw him.” He pauses. “You probably didn’t know about that last one, but, still, I’m sorry.” 

Your frown only grows deeper with each apology, your eyes starting to sting. You don’t want to cry, not when you’re sure that this night will steal plenty of tears already, but Mingi is making it hard. If you had known that he was beating himself up equally as hard as you had been, you would’ve apologized a long, long time ago. If you had known… isn’t that just the statement of your life? 

“When you were attacked at the start of the month, I was terrified.” He swallows. “I wanted to be at your side, but Hongjoong wouldn’t allow it, and I was sure that you would be pissed if you woke up and I was there, so I left. But that solitude left me a lot of time to think, to think about who you are and what you mean to me.

“You might not think of me as your best friend anymore, but I value our friendship more than anything else in my life, (Y/n). More than Hongjoong, more than The Answer, more than all of this; you are what I thank God for everyday. If something happened to you, I don’t think I would survive it.” Mingi swallows again, harder, tearing up himself. “I’m so glad that you’re here. I know you still are on the fence about Hongjoong, but I need you to trust me when I say that he loves us and he lives to make us better people.” 

Finally, you allow a few stray tears to spill onto your cheeks. Mingi’s confession is touching, truly, making your stomach do all sorts of gymnastics, but Hongjoong. How does he weasel his way into absolutely everything? Again, you’re struck by the thought that Mingi will be plagued by Hongjoong for the rest of his life. This… grip he has on Mingi won’t disappear overnight. 

Thankful for the wall behind you, considering your dizziness, you lift a hand to wipe at your cheeks before responding. “Mingi, no matter what happens or how much we fight or if I’m here or not, you’ll always be my best friend.” You smile weakly, hoping that he doesn’t read too deeply into your words. “Nothing can come between us for long.” 

Mingi wipes at his own tears, sniffling. “Can I hug you?” 

Before you can fully nod your head yes, Mingi is pulling you away from the wall and into his arms, crushing you to his chest. You’re quick to reciprocate, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, savoring the feeling. You hadn’t been able to hug him in ages, but his arms feel just like you remember them— if not a little bit more muscled. Inhaling deeply, you rub your face against his shirt, probably ruining the crisp-ness that he had been trying to preserve. His tears wet your scalp, but you don’t mind as you only squeeze him tighter. 

The moment could not be more perfect; reconciling with Mingi fills your heart with such a certainty that you’re doing the right thing. Knowing that he isn’t upset with you, isn’t harboring any ill-will any longer reassures you that it will all be okay. He knows that you wouldn’t just leave him behind— he’ll know that you’re coming back for him (if he ever even finds out that you’ve left). 

That is, of course, ignoring the bit of his speech where he encouraged you to stay and adapt to Hongjoong, but, like, whatever. It’ll be irrelevant in a few hours, now. He’ll be thankful, eventually. 

But no moment can be perfect and last forever. 

A throat clearing from behind Mingi calls your attention back to the world. The two of you separate, though Mingi puts a hand on your cheek as you pull away, wiping away your tears with a tight smile. 

San looks behind Mingi’s shoulder, his face hard as he watches the two of you. You could almost chuckle at his jealousy, but the seriousness of the situation suddenly rises into your awareness once again. 

“I'm sorry, Mingi, you'll have to excuse us,” San says, despite the fact that Mingi hasn't acknowledged his presence. 

Mingi leans close to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he says, quietly enough so that you're the only one who hears. 

Nodding, you untangle yourself from his arms, taking a few steps towards San before offering your hand to him. 

He takes it, offering no final remarks to Mingi as he pulls you further away from the cafeteria. Further away from Hongjoong and Seonghwa and Mingi and the rest of them. Closer to the forest and your car and freedom. 

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest again. Had you lost track of time talking with Mingi? Were you running behind? Why does it seem like San is in such a rush to get you away? It’s almost hard to keep up with his stride, your boots feeling heavier with each step that you take. 

Vaguely, you find yourself worrying over if Mingi will get in trouble for being the last one to speak to you. Surely not… How would he know what you were planning? There wouldn’t be a way for him to… unless they suspected that you had confided your plans to him. 

Which you hadn’t done, but if they were desperate enough to need a scapegoat… No. Hongjoong wouldn’t go that far. He may never even find out that you had the conversation in the first place. Mingi might mention it, but he probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to in the chaos that is sure to ensue when your absence was realized. 

They were bound to figure out what had happened easily enough; they wouldn’t have to interrogate your friends to come to the most obvious conclusion: that you and San had run away in the night, without outside help. 

Before you know it, San is opening the front door, ushering you into the night. 

As you had suspected, the cool air does feel amazing on your skin. Lacking a coat, you know that you’ll grow colder the longer that you’re outside. It’s almost November, now, the air is almost strikingly cold after the stuffiness of the cafeteria. Even the hallway had hardly felt relieving compared to this. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you allow San to continue wordlessly leading you forward. If you weren’t still rather tipsy, maybe you would question his silence. But it doesn’t bother you very much, if you’re being honest. He probably just doesn’t want to risk drawing any unnecessary attention…

He had assured you that there would be absolutely no one outside of the compound at this point in the night, though… 

But, still, he has his reasons, you’re sure. Instead of continuing to walk in front of the building, he veers dramatically to the right, walking the distance until you both turn the corner to round to the side and eventually the back.

Though you had never seen the woods at the back of the compound directly, you had known it was there. The ancient, old-growth trees loomed from behind the building, their leaves able to be seen from a far distance, even from the road. To actually be in front of them was a new sensation, a new emotion. The sight of their trunks startled you into realization.

This is real. You’re doing this. You’re running. You’re getting out of here. 

San stops at the edge of the trees, finally turning to address you in a low voice, “You still want to do this?” 

Nodding, you squeeze his hand in yours, bringing your free hand to grip your joined hands as well. 

He looks at the dirt, kicking a loose pebble at his feet. “Don’t look too hard at anything you might see in these trees, (Y/n).” 

However foreboding that is, you agree with his request, “I won’t take my eyes off of you.” 

San allows himself a small smile, squeezing your hands back. 

Whatever it is that San doesn’t want you seeing, you don’t think you ever had any hope of being able to see in the trees, anyways. It’s pitch black outside, the moon doing little to help you as you walk deeper and deeper. 

You’re almost kind of amazed that he’s able to lead you so confidently. He must not have consumed anywhere near the same quantity of alcohol as everyone else. Which actually makes quite a bit of sense, considering you hadn’t seen him very much at all following dinner. What had he been up to? Was Hongjoong not suspicious of his absence? He must’ve made something up… explained it away… 

More than a few times, you stumble over a tree root or loose brush, twigs snapping underfoot with each step that you take. San holds you steady, slowing his pace when you need it. 

After what feels like forever, but is probably more like a couple minutes, you reach a clearing. At first, you think that you spot your car right away… but then you realize that you can’t be sure. In the clearing, there’s no fewer than twenty vehicles, of all makes and models and sizes. Some look like they haven’t run in years, a thick, dusty coat over their windshields that you can even see in the dark. 

San doesn’t pause to let you take in the clearing for very long, however. He quickly pulls you along with him, between a row of cars, before you’re able to find your own. It looks just as you remember it, albeit a bit dirty. Your heart leaps as you realize what this means.

You’re at your car. Your car. It’s right here, right in front of you. You’re going to fucking get out of here. Holy shit. 

San lets go of your hand, fishing into his pocket before pulling out the keys and handing them to you. “We don’t lock the cars, but…” 

Clutching the keys in your hands, you can’t help but smile. “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

He awkwardly mirrors your smile, glancing behind you before pointing it out. You turn to look, not all that surprised to see that the clearing opens to a dirt road, leading back off into the trees. “We’ll go that way. It meets up with the main road after a couple miles.” 

Nodding, you turn back to your car, almost giddy as you approach the passenger’s side door. Gently, you pull on the handle, hoping the door doesn’t creak too loud as you do so. Thankfully, it’s no louder than normal, and you eagerly sit yourself down in the seat. San stands in the door, his hands resting on either side of the opening. “Ready, then?” He chuckles as you settle yourself into the seat, adjusting the recline to lay back. 

“Let’s go.” 

He gives you a thumbs up, pushing himself off of the car before patting at his pockets. 

His smile falls, his face paling. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, “What is it?” You ask, sitting back up. “Is something wrong?” 

San blinks, twisting to look back the way that you came. “I have to go back.” 

“What?” You almost shout, “Are you crazy? You can’t go back!” 

He shakes his head, leaning down toward you. He grips both of your shoulders tight in his hands, looking in your eyes, “It’ll be fine. I will be right back, I promise.” 

“San, no,” you gape at him, “what could possibly be so important?” 

San closes his eyes, shaking his head at your question. “It’s hard to explain, I— Just, I,” his eyes open as he squeezes you one last time before dropping your shoulders. “I’ll be back, I swear.” 

“Let me come with you,” you plead, attempting to grab one of his hands as he pulls away. “Don’t leave me here, alone, please, San.” 

Shushing you, he shakes his head again. “You’ll slow me down. I swear, (Y/n), it will be fine. I’ll see you in a minute.” 

He takes a step back, shutting the door before you can come up with a response. You’re too dumbfounded to even attempt to open the door again, too confused to try and follow. What could possibly be so important to him? What if someone finds you here? How are you going to explain that, huh? 

But the possibility of that is so remote. No one knows that you’re out here, how could they? Even if someone notices your absence at the party, they’ll just assume that you’ve retired to your room, right? And even if they feel inclined to check, that’ll take a few minutes, in which time San should return to you and get a move on. 

Still, you find it very hard to swallow your panic. 

What if this is it? What if you die because San had to go back for something that he wouldn’t even tell you about? Your breathing grows shallow with each new terrible thought that invades your mind. You can see it now, Hongjoong walking into the clearing, rage in his eyes, knife in his hands. Making you grovel and beg and plead with him only to end it right then and there, anyways. San would come back and find your still-warm body, soon to join you in death. 

You try to blink away the images that flit across your mind, realizing that your eyes burn as if you’d been crying. Your hand flies to your cheek, unsurprised to find it wet. Taking a deep breath, you do anything you can think of to distract yourself. 

The air in your car is so stale, your months old air-freshener doing little to help the dry, bitter smell. You fumble with the glove box, pulling it open while praying that there is anything in it that can distract you from the horror of the moment. 

Papers spill out as you indiscriminately pull everything out, ushering it onto your lap. You throw aside the car manuals and your outdated insurance, searching for just one thing, anything that could remind you of what you were enduring these terrors for. 

A brochure for The Bean slides out, your own face smiling from behind the coffee bar. Adam can be seen in the background. It almost makes you sick, that horrible reminder of the life that you had been forced to give up. You keep sliding the papers around, cutting your finger in your desperation. 

Sucking your paper cut into your mouth, you realize that you're not going to find anything in the glove box. You make a half hearted attempt to shove everything back inside before deciding that it's not worth it. 

Tears still pouring down your face, you reach for the driver's side sun visor, flicking it down to reveal the photos you kept in the sunglass clip. 

On top is a picture of Jungeun and yourself, embracing with your faces pressed together. You quickly slide it back, knowing for certain that you have a picture of Mingi in the stack. 

Seeing the picture will wake you up, you're certain. It will give you the courage to keep going. 

Finally, a polaroid emerges. It's the first picture you had clipped to the visor, a testament to how much time had passed before you started looking for Mingi. How had you waited so long? You pry the polaroid free, it having stuck to the metal after so long. 

Though your hands shake, you don't really need to see the photo in detail to appreciate it. Mingi stands in the center, a peace sign next to his eyes. He's not smiling, rather giving you a sour look. He wasn't pleased to be the first test subject of his gift to you. The second photo was of yourself, taken by him, you remember. The third was a selfie of the both of you. 

You don't have either of the other photos, but you have this one. Something compels you to protect the picture, to keep it on you, so you slide it into your waistline and pray that your pants don't distort it too much. 

A knock on the window almost kills you on the spot, with the way your heart leaps into your throat.

The shock of who you see through the window makes you gag. 

No sooner after seeing his face does he open the door, falling onto his knees next to the car to be eye level with you. 

Seonghwa is drunk, much more drunk than he had been when you were with him earlier, you realize this very quickly with the way his voice wavers as he asks, “What are you doing?”

You have no response. You open and close your mouth a few times, but only choked sounds of fear come out. 

He grabs your hands, holding them in your lap. “Why are you crying? Are you leaving?” 

He sounds so sad that your heart nearly shatters. Your heart should shatter, now, knowing that escape is impossible. But you can only focus on Seonghwa, on his knees, in front of you. 

His bangs brush his eyelids. “You're leaving?” He asks again, “without me?” 

Seonghwa hiccups, frowning. The question is so absurd you can't pay any mind to it. Why would you bring Seonghwa with you? His forehead comes to rest on your thigh. 

“Seonghwa, go back to the party,” you manage to get out, clearing your throat after. 

“I can't,” he pouts, “Hongjoong is mad at me. I can't tell why.” 

You think Hongjoong always seems a little mad at Seonghwa, but you're not going to say that to him now.

“Please, Seonghwa, go.” 

He shifts his face and blinks up at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight so prettily it almost hurts. “Come with me, then.” 

Seonghwa gets to his feet, but he doesn't release your hands. They dangle between the two of you, the height different causing yours to float up. “We can fix this. Just come with me,” he says. 

You're shaking your head before you realize it. “I can't go back. I can't do this anymore.” 

Seonghwa bites his lip, looking around. “This isn't going to end well; please,” he looks back at you, “just come back with me. I won't say anything, Hongjoong will never know, we'll both be fine. We'll be fine. Nothing has to change.” 

“I can't go back.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you can feel its thrum. When San returns, what will he do about Seonghwa? How will he possibly get past him? Seonghwa won't let you leave, but you have to. To what length would San go to get you free? 

You don't want Seonghwa hurt. You realize now, staring up at him, that you care about him. More than you would've ever thought you would. Who is Seonghwa if not the ultimate victim? Is he not just a reflection of yourself?

“Get in the car, Seonghwa.”

He frowns again, pouting his lower lip. “I can't leave Hongjoong.” 

“Yes, you can. Get in the car.”

You don't give a second thought to your proposition, nodding your head toward the back seat.

“I won't leave Hongjoong.” Seonghwa clarifies, dropping your hands. They smack down onto your thighs, stinging. 

You'd question him, start yelling at him if you could. But you can hardly form a coherent thought and every word feels like risking the contents of your stomach coming up. Instead, you frown, looking down at your lap rather than at his confused face. 

“You can't leave Hongjoong, either,” he says. “Even if you run, he'll find you, always. You'd come back on your own, you won't know how to live without him anymore.” He tells you this eerily flat. “Just come back with me, he doesn't have to know about this.” 

Seonghwa is speaking nonsense. Even your flurried mind understands this.

“Please.” He begs. “(Y/n), please.” 

You shake your head. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as singular tears run down his cheeks. “I'm sorry. I tried to help you, I did.” 

Seonghwa turns away from the car as the sinking feeling in your stomach solidifies into a rock of dread. 

Of course, you knew what it meant to see Seonghwa out here. There was never any chance, not after he had found you. If he knew where you were, Hongjoong did, too. Surely, he wouldn’t risk you getting away. He would drag the moment on, though. Making Seonghwa come here, making him plead with you, what sort of torture was that? What was the point? Isn’t he just going to kill you, now? 

Why is it that, when Hongjoong enters the clearing, you aren’t scared? You hardly feel anything. You knew this was coming. You knew that this would happen, didn’t you? There wasn’t any other possible ending to this night. You wanted to believe that it was possible, that you could escape, but it was futile. It was never a possibility. Even with San’s help. You knew it, deep down. 

Like Seongwha said, there is no getting away from Hongjoong. You were foolish to think that you could, and you know it, now. 

Instead of watching Hongjoong approach, you watch Seonghwa slink away. He doesn’t go far, stopping to rest his head against the roof of a car a few down from your own. You can imagine how good the cool metal must feel. 

You snivel, wiping at your eyes as Hongjoong stops in front of you, standing where San had stood, where Seonghwa kneeled. He’s silent. You don’t look up at him, instead focusing on his hands as they hang at his sides. They’re empty, though clenched into tight fists. 

“You have ignored every. Single. Opportunity. I have given you.” He emphasizes each word. “Chances I gave you to make the right decision.” 

It’s not even worth your energy to respond, is it? Obviously, you should’ve known that the various conversations you had over the night were warnings. How else would everyone manage to bring up something that would make you want to stay? And Seonghwa… 

How humiliating. 

“I’m disappointed in you.” Hongjoong says, and it’s so much worse than if he had been screaming and violent. “I thought you were starting to fit in.” 

You glance at Seonghwa, who still has his back turned to you. He seems to be shaking, but you find it hard to believe that, even in this scenario, he would cry for you. This has to be part of it, right? Part of making you feel guilty? 

Looking at him is a mistake, though. Hongjoong harshly grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Look at me when I'm speaking to you.”

You still have no idea what to say to him. It all seems so stupid, in retrospect. 

It's only as you look up at Hongjoong that you start to wonder where San is. If you asked, you'd surely get your ass handed to you. But the terrible feeling in your stomach only gets worse. What if he comes back to this scene? How will he react? Poor San, he was so desperate for you. How will he feel, with the plan destroyed? Does Hongjoong know the depth of his involvement? 

So, you break your silence. It couldn’t get much worse, could it? “Where is San?” You ask. 

Hongjoong lets go of your face, but only to bury a hand in your hair, yanking you into standing. Instinctively you bring your hands to his, crying out in pain. He only smirks, releasing his grasp on you. 

You collapse onto your knees, catching yourself with your hands at his feet. Your nice pants, they're dirty, now, you catch yourself thinking. Like that's the biggest issue right now. 

“Where is San?” He repeats your question, spitting the words out like they leave a vile taste in his mouth. 

Reduced to a heap at his feet, you can't bring yourself to look up at him. This night has turned up just as your last failure had. You're not all that surprised when Hongjoong's boot comes down on your hand, though not hard enough to hurt. “Look at me.” 

You do. From even further beneath him, he looks more Biblical than ever. 

“Who do you think told me where you were?” 

Ah. 

Of course. 

That makes sense. 

Your face contorts, though with what emotion, you’re not sure. 

You want to think that there might be an explanation, one that doesn’t involve San betraying you to a homicidal maniac, but you know that there isn’t. Instantly, you know. 

He never meant to help you. He never cared about you. He had laid a pretty trap for you, at Hongjoong’s request, and had sprung it just as planned.

And he couldn’t even be here to see the fruits of his labor. Pathetic. Your mind swims with everything you had told him, everything you confessed to him, the times you had been warned about him. You fought with Mingi over him, you defended him to Mingi. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong smiles down at you. “All of this has been planned since the day I made you live with him.” 

You nod up at him, realizing that he must want something else from you. 

“You must understand, (Y/n), that I control everything. You can’t trust in anything besides this fact.” Hongjoong kneels to meet your eye line, inadvertently crushing your hand under his foot as his weight shifts. 

Gritting your teeth, you suck in any sound of pain that threatens to escape. The last thing you plan on doing tonight is letting Hongjoong realize the depths of your pain. 

He tilts his head in question. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?” 

Even in your haze of emotions, you can hardly resist spitting a few choice curses at him. “Fuck you.” 

He grimaces, though he’s clearly not actually affected. “Not what I was thinking, Princess, but I’ll give you a pass.”

His hands are suddenly gripping into your shirt at the shoulders, yanking you onto your feet. He hardly allows you to catch yourself before he begins dragging you across the clearing, away from your car, into the trees, away from your last shred of dignity. 

There isn’t a single thing on your mind as he pulls you through the trees and eventually back around to the front of the compound. He’s groveling under his breath, probably cursing you out in any and every way that he knows how. And you deserve it. You deserve every stumble of your feet, every tear burning your cheeks, every horrible thing that Hongjoong can fling at you. 

You failed. Not only yourself, but everyone stuck here in this cult. You’ve utterly failed. No one is going to be rescued, no one is going to be saved. You cling onto Hongjoong’s blazer as he guides you to the barns, having no idea what could be waiting for you there.

Maybe this is it, huh? Maybe he has finally realized that you’re more trouble than you’re worth. For a second there, it had looked like he was going to keep you alive, but maybe not. That was probably just wishful thinking. He’s probably delivering you to Jongho, too disgusted to even deal with you himself. 

Hongjoong releases you to throw open the barn doors. You have to catch yourself on the siding to remain standing, but Hongjoong quickly returns his grip on you, hauling you further inside the barn. 

It’s the animal barn. He walks you into the center aisle, dropping you unceremoniously. You fall into a heap at his feet. Again.

You can hardly hear Hongjoong over the general animal sounds, but especially over the oinking of the pigs. “I’m going to leave you here,” he starts, glaring down at you. “When I come back, you’re going to still be in this building.”

Sniffling, you nod in agreement. 

He scoffs. “You’re lucky, (Y/n), very lucky. If you had made it even an inch down that road, what do you think would’ve happened to you? To Mingi? Haseul?”

There isn’t anything for you to say. The pigs fill the silence. 

“Selfish. Utterly, disgustingly, selfish.” Hongjoong spits. “Stay here— before you try and lure anyone else to their certain deaths.” 

With that, he turns on his heel and exits the barn, shutting the door behind him. The overhead lights remained on, but you barely even found yourself capable of caring. The dark wouldn’t make any difference. You failed.

And Hongjoong was right. You are selfish. Even though you knew the truth about San’s intentions now, you hadn’t known before. You had thought he was risking his life to help you, and you had been fine with it. What was wrong with you? Why is this just occurring to you now? Had you really been so desperate as to involve another person? What’s the matter with you? Have you no shame? No consideration? Were you such a narcissist that you would put your freedom above someone’s life?

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you wipe your cheeks with your hands. The sensation is calming, allowing you to take a few deep breaths as you collect your bearings. As hard as it is, you should try to keep your head on straight… there’s still no telling how the night will end, and something tells you that it’s far from over. 

One thing you know for certain, though, is that you cannot do this again. You can’t. No matter what. Something else will have to give. There is no more escape. There is no more saving yourself. How the fuck could you, after this? 

Standing, you brush your hands off on your pants. Hongjoong hadn’t said anything about not moving from the spot. Might as well look at the animals. Animals can be calming, right? Therapeutic? Maybe?

Wishful thinking. 

Your tears keep flowing, but you find your breathing to be coming back to your control. You stumble with your first step, but quickly regain your balance, tottering over to the nearest animal pen— which happens to be the pigs.

This is where you had confronted Jongho about Haneul. How long ago was that, now? That horrible confrontation lingers as you grip the metal fencing keeping the pigs in place. The bar is cooling, demanding your attention. You realize now that the air itself, though warmed by the animals' presence, is getting rather chilly, as well. 

Tugging your sleeves lower over your hands, you peer down at the animals. Some of them are sleeping, but most of them aren’t. Each sow is separated from the next, in neat, orderly rows. Last time you had seen them, there weren’t individual pens. Jongho had been feeding them in one huge, disorderly mess. It had been rather disgusting. 

You had also fought with Mingi, that day. About so many things that just seem stupid, now. What was there to even be mad about? Mingi is just Mingi. You can’t fault him for being a victim.

And the fact that he was just looking out for you, and, in fact, turned out to be absolutely correct. 

As you turn to walk to a different pen, the feeling of the polaroid at your waist recaptures your attention. Stopping in place, you fish it out of your waistline, cupping it in your hands. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be damaged. You stare down at it once more. It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since you had put it in your pants, and, yet, here you are. Completely changed. 

Mingi’s face frowns up at you, but your eyes catch on something outside of the photo. Your own expression melts into a frown as you lower your hands, shoving the picture back into your pants. 

Wiping your tears again, you kneel down to the ground next to the pen. 

What had caught your attention was a scrap of white, so starkly bright against the packed dirt floor of the barn. 

You reach out to grab it, suddenly overcome with an even worse feeling of dread. Your scalp goes cold, a shiver spreading across your body as you touch the… fabric. 

Fabric. 

Blinking your tears away as fast as you can manage, you pull, feeling your stomach drop as the piece grows into a cuff. Buttons and all. A white cuff. 

There’s nothing that you can do to stop yourself from thinking the thoughts that come— attacking you at nearly instantaneous moments. 

It’s Haseul’s. This is from Haseul’s shirt. What did Hongjoong say would happen? About the pigs? The pigs? Haseul? This is Haseul’s shirt? It can’t be. She’s in her room. She’s been in her room this whole time. This could belong to anyone. This could’ve been cut off of anyone’s shirt. It doesn’t have to be hers. It could be anyone’s. Why would it be hers? It isn’t possible. San said she was fine. He failed, but she was fine. Hongjoong said she was fine. Mingi said— what did he say? Did he say something? Anything? It doesn’t matter. San said—

“You shouldn’t be in here,” a familiar voice calls from behind you. 

You fall onto your butt, forgoing your pants. They were ruined, anyway. Clutching the cuff in your hand, you don’t even reply to Jongho’s warning. Your breathing is out of control, again. Each breath you take is tighter, harder, less satisfying, more panic inducing. The fabric in your hand burns with the tightness of your grip. 

Jongho grabs your shoulder. “Can you even hear me?” 

A fully-fledged sob leaves you as you look up at him. 

His eyebrows furrow in some emotion— probably disgust— as he frowns at you. “Get out of here.”

Shaking your head, you try to say even a single word about Hongjoong telling you to stay here, but you can’t get anything out. If anything, you cry harder, shaking your head back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, shutting your eyes as tightly as you can. 

This cannot be real. This can’t be happening. It can’t be Haseul’s shirt. Even if it is, it doesn’t mean that she’s—

No, you won’t even think it. You just keep shaking your head. It can’t be. It cannot be. 

Jongho’s hand leaves your shoulder.

“This is your punishment, (Y/n).” Hongjoong’s voice booms from behind you. It’s so shocking that you open your eyes, spinning around in the dirt to face him. He’s not alone. Seonghwa and San are with him, both of them looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

Seeing San doesn’t relieve you at all. Seonghwa’s face is puffy, his clothing disheveled and dirty. Neither of them look at you, instead looking at the ground in front of them. Jongho remains at your side, seemingly caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

You don’t know what Hongjoong means, though. Or, rather, your mind completely refuses to see what is in front of it until it is irrefutable. There is still hope, now. There is hope. The cuff doesn’t mean anything until Hongjoong says that it does. There is nothing in you that can accept this until… 

“Haseul is dead.” Hongjoong says. “And San killed her.” 

The wind is completely knocked out of your lungs as you fall onto your hands, heaving. 

Though you can’t see San, you can hear him. His protests are immediate, “What? Hongjoong, why would you say that? I didn’t do that. I didn’t even touch her. I swear, (Y/n), why would I lie—”

“Not to mention that he orchestrated your entire escape attempt at my request,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through San’s pleas to be heard. 

The reminder calls you back into your body. Hongjoong had to say it in front of San, you realize, he had to make sure San knew that you knew of his betrayal. You look up at the three men in front of you as you gasp for air. The cuff lays in the dirt before you, momentarily forgotten. 

San is gaping at Hongjoong, his hands outstretched as if he was in the middle of trying to reach for you. “Are you fucking crazy?” San barely squeezes out in his apparent anger. 

“I am, in fact.” Hongjoong replies, though he doesn’t bother to address San. He smiles down at you instead, watching your facial expression change from one of despair to one of hatred. 

Your eye twitches as you stare at San, who starts to plead for you to hear him out once more. 

“I swear, (Y/n), it wasn’t like that! You heard him! He’s crazy! He only has something to gain if you don’t trust me, right? Why would I ever do that? I love you, you kno—” 

San had been crouching down to your level as he made this speech, which was probably a horrible idea. Using your hands as your leverage, you launch yourself at him, toppling him over into the dirt. 

Pinning him to the ground with your weight, you stare down at his (very surprised) face. 

It takes you all of five seconds to realize what you couldn’t in the past month. 

Hongjoong is right. Again. 

Your tears drip down onto his own face. San tries to speak, but evidently can’t think of anything to say to you. 

Hongjoong laughs at your side. 

You pull your hand back, bringing it back down and slapping San as hard as you can muster across his face. The smack rings through the barn, your hand stinging all the way up your forearm. 

San tries to clutch his cheek, but your knees keep his arms at his sides, and he instead looks up at you, stunned. 

“Say something.” You demand, finding your voice. 

He opens and closes his mouth, grasping for anything to say. “He’s lying to you— I swear it, I had nothing to do with Haseul, and I would never set you up, I would never, you can’t trust him, can’t trust anything that he says, (Y/n), really—” 

You hit him again. This time, he exclaims in pain as you feel your hand go numb. Seonghwa flinches in your peripheral vision and Hongjoong laughs once more.

“Fuck you.” You blink, more tears falling. “Fuck you.” You lean back, freeing his arms, which immediately come up to rest on your waist. “Hit me.” 

San’s face contorts, confused, “why would I hit you?” 

Absurdly, you smile. You smile wide. “Hit me. Do it.” You hit him in the chest, though lighter than you had his face. “What? Are you a coward? You can kill my best friend, but you can’t hit me?” Your voice raises, reaching a shrilling quality. “Come on! Hit me! Do anything!” 

San’s hands remain holding your waist, not moving. 

“Hit me so that I don’t fucking kill you! Hit me to show you at least think your miserable life is worth living! Hit me! Hit me! Hit me! Hi—”

“That’s really enough, (Y/n),” Seonghwa’s voice cuts in as he grabs your arm, keeping you from landing another blow to San’s chest. “You’re being childish.” 

You scoff, but it devolves into a laugh. “Childish? I’m being CHILDISH?” You wrench your hand out of Seonghwa’s grip. “Tell me, Seonghwa, please, how is someone supposed to react in this situation? What is the normal reaction? Enlighten me, please!” 

When Seonghwa doesn’t respond, you stand, turning your full attention to him. San’s hands easily slide off of you, though you remain hovering over him. He finally starts cradling his red cheeks. 

Seonghwa looms over you, his back to Hongjoong as he stares over his shoulder at you. You feel guilty for lashing out at Seonghwa, somehow, but it doesn’t stop you from fanning the flames. There’s nothing that could stop you, not in this moment, from bringing anyone else to your level. 

You make eye contact with Hongjoong, who has his arms crossed nonchalantly, an enormous smile on his face. You imagine that this night is just going peachy for him. Just how he wanted it to. Maybe, just maybe, you can ruin his fun. 

At Seonghwa’s expense. You hardly feel bad about it, though, as your eyes snap back to Seonghwa’s. 

“Without turning around, take a guess. Is Hongjoong watching you, his perfect little whore, or me, the spoiled brat who doesn’t behave?” 

Seonghwa sneers, a small laugh escaping him. Of course, he plays right into your hands. He exhales one shaky breath before grabbing your shoulders, using the grip to shove you as hard as he can, sending you falling back to the floor. You practically land on top of San, your legs resting over his waist, but you can only laugh. 

Seonghwa falls onto his knees in front of you, crawling until he can reach your legs. He grabs you by your calves, pulling you off of San until you’re practically underneath himself. You’re sure that he’s planning on strangling you, there’s a sweet little look in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know.

And you’re excited, you want him to kill you, you realize. Your laughing becomes intermixed with your sobbing as Seonghwa puts his weight on your stomach, the fury in his eyes blazing harder with each sound you make. 

Before you can truly get your way, though, San is grabbing Seonghwa by the back of his shirt, using all of his strength to pull him off of you. You hear the fabric rip as Seonghwa sprawls onto his back in front of you, and San takes the same position that Seonghwa had just had on you. 

You can’t find it in yourself to sit up, so you opt to just turn your head until you can see San. Vaguely, you can hear the sound of him hitting Seonghwa as you had just pleaded with him to do to you, and this only makes you cry harder. 

You turn your head in the opposite direction, and you’re greeted with the image of Hongjoong, still sitting contentedly. He glances down at you, but he doesn’t betray anything.

“Can’t you just kill me?” You whisper to him, hoping the others can’t hear it, “won’t you please just kill me?” 

Hongjoong frowns, then, slowly rising to his feet to come to your side. He holds his hand out, waiting for you to take it. 

You don’t at first, opting to continue looking pathetically up at him. From this angle, with the blurriness of your tears and the extreme perspective, Hongjoong really does look… ethereal. Angelic. Godly. Whatever the word is. You take his hand, allowing him to heave you into a sitting position just in time to see San land the punch that you’re sure breaks Seonghwa’s nose. 

It’s only in this moment that you realize San is screaming at Seonghwa, mostly incomprehensible phrases of anger. Seonghwa is trying to fight back, his hands clenching onto San’s shirt, slapping at his shoulders and face, thrashing underneath him, but San is too pissed to let any of it stop him. 

Hongjoong squats at your side, resting one of his knees on the floor. He doesn’t drop your hand, instead using it to pull you closer to him. He puts his face next to yours, making sure you’re watching the scene unfolding in front of you. 

“Doesn't this make you feel good? Seeing what San would do for you? Even after it’s all over?” He whispers so close that his breath tickles your ear. “It could always be like this. Everyone could love you like this.” 

Love? This is love? Your ploy to upset Hongjoong by including Seonghwa failed. If there isn’t love lost between the two of them, then what on earth about this is love?

Still, your heart skips a beat. 

You had completely forgotten (or, maybe, ignored) Jongho’s presence until Hongjoong turns to give him some sort of look that must tell him to stop whatever is going on. In the next moment, Jongho is resting a hand on San’s shoulder, barely having to pull at him to get him to cease his movements. 

Seonghwa turns his face toward you and Hongjoong, blood pouring from his nose and split lips. 

A sob escapes him, this time, before he turns to face the other direction. 

You really hadn’t meant for Seonghwa to get hurt from this. You just wanted to goad someone into giving you what you wanted, and he was easiest. You avert your eyes from him, wanting to give him the privacy he clearly desires. 

Hongjoong doesn’t care. He drops your hand, standing to go to Seonghwa. 

You look at San and Jongho. San is also sobbing, his knuckles torn to shreds in his lap. 

You don’t feel bad for him. You don’t feel anything for him. You’re sure the upset will come in the next few days. The bomb will drop, the emotions will explode, but now, in this moment, you couldn’t care less if he lived or died. 

Frankly, you couldn’t even care less about your own life. Haseul is dead. She’s dead. And she’s never coming back. You’ll never see her smile again, never text her that you’re bored at work, never hear her complain about her parents arguing again. Her parents. Her own parents. They’ll never see her again, and it’s your fault. Entirely. 

You look back at Seonghwa and Hongjoong just in time to see Seonghwa slap Hongjoong’s hand away from him, groaning as he turns his body to fully face away from his God. 

That can’t be a good sign. 

Hongjoong sighs, crossing his arms over his chest before turning on his heel to come back to you. 

Great. Just what you wanted. 

“Is she really dead?” You can’t help the question, squeezing your eyes shut as they fill with more tears. 

Hongjoong sits beside you, taking both of your hands in his this time. “She is.” 

“For how long?” You don’t open your eyes.

He takes a few seconds to answer, as if contemplating whether you should hear the truth or not. “She died the day she arrived.” 

You’re not sure if this is the best or the worst news that he could’ve given you. You’d believed lies for weeks, but at least she hadn’t been suffering the entire time, like you pictured. 

“Was it really San?” You still had a hard time believing it. Could San kill? Had you really shared a bed with him for over a month, not knowing that he had killed Haseul himself, believing that he hadn’t?

“No,” He admits, letting go of one of your hands, using his newly freed hand to rest on your cheek. You open your eyes, feeling your lips quivering with… every emotion on this goddamn planet. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Whatever. “Jongho killed her, and humanely at that. But San helped with the mess. I didn’t want it to be like this, (Y/n), I warned you.” 

And what could you say. He warned you. Very plainly. And you had disobeyed him. And look at what it cost. 

Hongjoong moves his hand away from your face, using it to wrap around you and pull you back into a hug. 

There's nothing to do anymore. Nothing to say. You cry into his shoulder, finally wrapping your own arms around him in acceptance. 

He rocks you, there, on the ground. “It might be hard to understand now, (Y/n), but everything I do, I do for you.” 

You nod. “Please don't make me see him again.” 

Hongjoong knows who. He strokes your head, smoothing your hair, “Of course, love. Of course.” 

Though you know that this is all because of Hongjoong, you still find his words comforting, his embrace grounding. You squeeze him tighter to you, appreciating the feeling of having at least one person on your side. He’s right, he’s so right, you can’t trust anyone else, not when this is how it turns out. 

← previous || next → || masterlist

[berryunho]

started reading the answer on tumblr and the story sucked me in so bad i just had to read all the chapters on ao3 in one go, i haven’t found any ateez fics with cult au to read before and they just happen to be two of my favorite things so you’re like a blessing me to nhskdjskd love your writing, can’t wait for next update, take care <3

aaaaa!!! thank you so much!! hehe i am also very interested by cults and i recognized a severe lack of their presence in ff that i had to fill :] like esp w ateez's lore i feel like it would be more popular?? but ig not lol BUT AHHH thank you again <3

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role - ACT VI (C.S; S.MG)

title; getting a little sidetracked, catching little feelings, thought we had arrangements

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader (for now lol)

warnings: smut!!, mentions of drug abuse

wc: 11k

taglist:   @joonsthethicc​ @marievllr-abg​ @cookiechristie​ @purenjuniverse​  @littleparkseonghwa​ @hwasong​ @hwadump​ @hongshines​ @kitty4hwa​ @knisterlicht​ @flamingi​ @revehosh​ @gayliljoong​ @naiify​     @btshook​ @atzcoke​  @circusjanreblogs​ @baguette-atiny​ @kpopnightingale​ @xosim​ @raineadlr​ @ilikepalta​ @m4rsluv​ @gojocatt​ @smimingi​ @bubbleteakittyy​  @mingkiyoo​ @theactresstarringinurbadreams​  @mangishii​ @cryingaboutskz​ @y2ksturniolo​   @layzfeelit​   @khjssss​ @hwazzling​ @rdiamond2727​ @adajoemaya​  @outrologist​ @smuchsmut​ @flaminghotcheetoos​ @dogsongy​ @seesaw-jk​  @seojonneh​

buy me a coffee!

act v / masterlist / act vii

A/N:  ❀ for smut!!

"A mighty pain to love it is, And 't is a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain." ― Abraham Cowley, The Poems of Abraham Cowley

"-variable and it's a variable created with the solely purpose of making your code more readable-"

Mingi is talking.

It seems important as well. Which is why it's such a shame that you're not paying attention to a word that leaves his lips.

Pretty, plump lips. Pretty, plump lips that keep moving and your eyes can't help but stray towards them.

He's sitting so, so close. The left side of his chest completely pressed up against your shoulder as he leans over to you, one arm draped over the back of your chair while the other is pointing to your laptop screen.

You're so close that you could lean over and place a kiss over the mole on his cheek.

Also, he's wearing his glasses today.

The thin, black and square-shaped frames perched up at the bridge of his nose were making your life extremely difficult.

Just when you thought Song Mingi couldn't possibly get any more attractive, he had to go and remind you that he wears glasses.

A gentle tug on your ponytail makes you gasp faintly as Mingi nudges your chin so you're facing your screen again.

You can hear the smile in his voice. "Pay attention."

Oh and that voice. Deep, husky and somewhat cocky. You need him.

Your eyes turn to the screen again and he keeps talking but you tune it out quickly, your eyes once again fleeing the screen and observing him as inconspicuously as possible.

Your eyes trace his lips that he wets with his tongue and a shiver runs up your spine at the action. So focused on his lips, when they stretch into a smile, your eyes meet his.

He's looking at you with a slight blush on his cheek but by the smile on his face- he's amused.

Mingi's big hand reaches down and intertwines with yours. He moves his chair back so he can stand up.

"Come with me for a second." He says with a faint grin as his eyes dance from your eyes to your lips, gently tugging for you to follow and you do with parted lips and wide eyes.

You don't even care where you're going but the way you're heading towards the staircase which leads to the upper floors of the library, excitement and neediness starts pulsing through you.

You're on the third floor. The third, very empty floor.

Mingi pulls you through rows of books and leads you to the complete back of the big upper room where you're surrounded by filled shelves in the back corner.

"What are we doin-" Your question is muffled by his lips pressing on yours as he backs you up against the books and a soft groan of appreciation escapes you.

Your hands drag up his back before wrapping around the back of his neck as you quickly lift your leg up and hook it around his waist to press him closer.

He chuckles huskily, "Needy."

"Yes." You pant without shame before meshing your lips together again and he smiles against you but alas, let's you do whatever you want.

You quite like that actually. He knows you're a brat but he doesn't seem to mind.

His hand tugs at your ponytail before he wraps it around his fist and tugs gently again and your head knocks back as his lips trail your neck. You sigh loudly at that.

Mingi is so good.

He's so wonderful. And, oh God, he's about to make you come in a library.

Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. Although you're convinced if the interruption happened only three minutes after, she would've caught you amidst an orgasm.

Your bite his lower lip gently and he grunts before kissing you with even more urge, his hands travelling up and down your body as-

"Oh-" You and Mingi jump at the surprised voice and you immediately push him away to fix your clothes as he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair that you messed up.

You both turn to a girl that seemed younger than both of you, probably a freshman, who instead of leaving like anyone would in a situation like this- is staring at you both with red cheeks.

Well, she's not staring at you.

She's staring at the 6'1 piece of fine nerdy ass next to you and you wouldn't even blame her if she wasn't looking at Mingi like he just ripped out her heart. Oh brother, she's one of the groupies Minjeong has told you about.

Mingi himself seems a little weirded out by the staring so, as always, you have to take matters into your own hands (you would've done it regardless).

"Can we fucking help you?" You ask loudly and the girl jumps before scurrying away with a muttered apology and almost on the verge of tears.

"Y/N!" Mingi whisper-shouts but he has a smile pulling on his lips. "That was rude."

"What? She was staring!" You explain with a huff before you continue with a faint smirk, "Probably one of your fangirls who's illusion of sweet, caring little Mingi just got shattered if he's making out with the likes of me."

"You're being mean." Mingi but he doesn't even seem to mean it because he's holding back a laugh. You smile back, knocking his shoulder with yours.

"You like it this time." You respond and he shakes his head in amusement before pulling you to him by the back of your neck and pressing his lips against yours again.

You cut the kissing off before it escalates this time. "Hongjoong will be here soon, we have to go."

He groans, "Fucking Hongjoong."

Hongjoong arrives early today though, in fact he is sitting with his arms crossed over his chest and a stony expression on his face when you both reach your table.

You and Mingi share a look as you weasel into your chairs across the table, clothes rumpled, lipstick smudged and hair messy and try to act as normal as possible despite the state he caught you in.

"Hey, Joo-"

"You guys just fucked." He states simply, eyes darting left and right as both you and Mingi splutter for answers.

"Of course, no-

"I'd never have sex in a library-"

Mingi gives you a dirty look and you shrug in response.

"But you're gonna fuck somewhere else, right?" Hongjoong asks, growing red in the face, "You're gonna fuck eventually. Just like you've fucked at my party all those months ago because you guys fuck! You're fucking!"

"Okay, can we please stop saying the word fuck?" Mingi asks calmly with cheeks tinted red. You nod in agreement, avoiding looking up.

Hongjoong's head looks like its about to pop off.

"So let me get this straight..." Hongjoong starts, leaning closer to the two of you. "You guys...see each other naked. Often."

Mingi and you remain silent.

"Was the party the first time?"

"Yes." Both Mingi and you respond and the oldest boy pursues his lips.

"And what? Are you guys dating now?" You glance towards Mingi at the question feeling a blush crawl up your neck, he's quiet as he stares at Hongjoong.

"We, uh..." You open your mouth.

"We're not." Mingi interrupts firmly. Right. You're not dating. Right.

"So...you guys are hooking up?" Hongjoong looks positively disgusted before it seems like a thought crosses his mind which makes his face pale, "Did you ever fuck while I was in the house?"

"No!"

"No, we'd wait for you to leave."

"Y/N!"

"What?" You turn to Mingi's chastising expression, "It's the truth!"

Hongjoong puts his acting into good use, emulating a perfect performance of pretending to throw up. "I feel dirty."

"Don't be so dramatic." You roll your eyes.

"Easy for you to say! You didn't just find out that while I was innocently spending time with my family or breaking my back studying, my two good friends were banging in my house!"

You and Mingi remain silent, glancing at each other occasionally to hide the smiles.

"Okay, see! None of that!" Hongjoong waves his pointer finger at you both.

"What?" You innocently let out and he scoffs.

"Stop making those...eyes at each other in front of me!" He snaps before continuing with his rant. "Seriously?! Is everyone having sex besides me around here?"

The answer is most definitely a 'yes', at least from you.

The moment you all pack up your books, you drive home with Mingi sitting in the passenger seat with his hands relentlessly trailing up your skirt as he seemed to not worry at all about causing a potential car crash.

Your house is empty once again, safe for the staff who have by now learned to stay clear of the second floor of your home once they see Mingi walk through the door.

Because they're very well aware what ensues after you both disappear in your bedroom.

❀

You giggle as Mingi stumbles over your coat which was thrown onto the floor as you both fall into your bed, he ignores your snickers and presses his lips back to yours with his tongue immediately slipping in your mouth as you moan in response.

His hands are everywhere and it's something you've grown accustomed to but his touches are especially firm today, kneading the skin of your thighs and ass as he wraps your legs around his slim waist.

Mingi drags his lips across your neck in slow, hot kisses that make heat pool in the bottom of your belly as he grinds into you with whines escaping his mouth along with your gasps. You chuckle, faintly surprised by his own neediness since usually it was you who was the one to lose control of their actions during sex.

"What has gotten into you?" You chuckle breathlessly  as he licks down the valley of your breasts, one hand on the back of your neck while the other was still gripping your thigh.

He sits up and swiftly pulls off his hoodie, throwing it to the floor and your eyes glaze over his torso as your hand immediately heads for the button of his jeans.

"I-...I just.." He pulls you in another sloppy kiss before pulling off your sweater and bra, "I just need you. N-need you so bad."

Your brows raise in faint surprise, never hearing him sound so desperate before as he rids you of your skirt and underwear. Your nails dig into his naked back as something very new but very exciting wakes up in you.

You grin and flip you two over so you're straddling him for once, swallowing his low groans as you continue to kiss him. You latch your teeth on the soft flesh of his neck, just under his ear, and say, "Do you want me like this, Mingi?"

You have no idea where that came from.

You feel him nod, but you want more of a reaction out of him. You begin to slowly grind your hips on him. "Yeah? You like when I'm on top of you, baby?"

Mingi lets out a quiet whimper, sending shocks of arousal straight down to your already throbbing core. You've never heard him make a sound like that before, and you're determined to hear it again. You grind down even harder, and bring one of your hands down into his unbuttoned pants to start palming him through his boxers.

"You like how good I make you feel?"

"Yes– fucking, yes," He moans against your lips.

You use your free hand to lift his chin up slightly and once again press your mouth to his throat, gently biting to leave a mark. "I love how you're all mine. You're all mine and no one else can have you."

He grabs your hips to guide your movements before saying, "All fucking yours, baby."

Those words almost make you go feral.

"Good boy," You whisper, eyes dark. You honestly didn't know where this was coming from, but all you knew was that you both liked it. A lot.

You lift your head up from his neck and begin to make your way down to where your hand was touching him as you kiss down his chest and stomach. He raises his hips helping you pull down his jeans and boxers down to his knees, before licking the precum and taking him into your mouth.

He's breathing so hard, all the while letting out low groans, trying to keep quiet. His hand grabs a hold of your ponytail, twisting it so your hair is once again wrapped around his fist and squeezes his eyes shut. "So fucking good."

You felt pride swell in your chest hearing him groan, the grip on your hair tightening once before relaxing again and giving you the rest of the control. You gladly took it.

"You're amazing, Y/N," Mingi moaned and bucked his hips once before settling down.

You hum and grip Mingi's thighs causing him to moan again. You slowly eased down, taking more in your mouth and letting your throat relax. Mingi let out a throaty moan but he kept still and you were grateful for that. You bobbed your head slowly, barely sheathing half of Mingi's length in your mouth, insistent on keeping the weight pressing on your tongue.

"Fuck, Y/N... shit, that's so hot," Mingi praised, face scrunching up and mouth dropping open in pleasure as he continued to play with your hair. "Shit, it's so wet."

You grunted and sucked, nearly choking when Mingi's hip moved and pressed deeper in your mouth. You can feel Mingi trying to pull away but you tighten your grip on the his thighs and pressed yourself closer to him. You can hear his moans and groans, desperate to fuck your mouth but keeping his promise of letting you take the reign.

After a while of sucking him off, you feel him getting closer. So, you stop and get back on top of him. He's about to open his mouth in protest but you shut him up by saying, "You want me to fuck you?"

He nods frantically.

You bite your lip, hiding your grin. "Say it."

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, swallowing hard. "Fuck me, Y/N. I want to feel you around me."

Jesus.

You lower yourself onto him, a low gasp escaping you once he's completely sheathed inside of you and start grinding your hips like before, this time connected as one. He's gripping your hips so hard that you're sure you'll have bruises from his fingertips in the morning, but you couldn't be happier with that.

Your hands reach up to grab at your breasts, strands of hair falling out of your ponytail from Mingi's tugging. "You feel so good, Mingi." You let out breathy moans, trying to limit the volume you project out as the headboard lightly taps back and forth against the wall.

As your motions become more sloppy, Mingi throws his head back and closes his eyes, "Yes, fuck, yes. Fuck me just like that." His words make the coil in the pit of your stomach tighten.

Mingi removes one of his hands from your hip and brings it down to the center of your spread out legs, using his thumb to rub circles on your clit, causing you to place your hands on his thighs behind you and lean back to bounce even harder. You let out a loud, involuntary moan and he shudders beneath you.

The building pressure eventually gets so intense that your vision starts to cloud over with your eyes rolling back. You force yourself to lean forward over him, chest hovering above his face, and say, "I want you to come with me."

He opens his eyes and looks at you through his lashes, brows furrowed in pleasure. You place one hand just above his chest and below his neck, allowing you leverage to press harder down into him, filling you all up.

His mouth slightly opens, jaw hanging lax. "Oh, fuck."

His features contort into an influx of pleasure and you feel your stomach begin to tighten.

The building pressure eventually locks into place, and your back freezes as you try to keep your hips moving. You let out a loud cry of his name. His thumb movements become wider and messier as you notice his groans come to halt and warmth fills you up. Near the end of your high, he wraps his arms around your back and presses you tightly against him, gripping your ass for support.

You manage to press a wet kiss against his mouth, feeling your walls clench around his throbbing dick, and you melt into each other.

❀

Once you can finally breathe again, you roll off him, both of you panting for air. You both catch your breath for a few more seconds, then you turn to look at Mingi. A stupid grin breaks out of both of your faces and you two laugh, breathlessly. "That was fun."

Then, he surprises you by rolling on top of you and pressing his face into your chest, eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his arms around your waist. "Yeah..."

Your own eyes fall shut as your hand mindlessly cards through his hair as you both bask in the post-orgasm daze. Mingi stiffens in your hold.

His head picks up, eyes wide and panicked, "We didn't use a condom."

"I'm on the pill." You assure him but he still keeps staring, "I'm not with anyone else but you either."

Mingi rests his lips on your chest, puppy eyes peering up at you. "Me neither."

You give him a lazy smile, eyes fluttering shut again as you get comfortable against your pillow. You can feel him tracing his finger over your collarbone before he clears his throat again.

"Uh," You open your eyes to find him staring at your chest, a blush coating his cheeks, "Could we, uh, do it like that again...sometime?"

You try to stifle a giggle at the shy expression on his face which you find endlessly endearing and just nod with a smile, "Yeah, definitely."

Mingi quickly glances up at you before looking away again, lowering his head to your chest again. His cheeks are burning red now but you can feel him smile against your skin.

As you both lay cuddled up to each other, you eventually fall asleep.

"What are your plans after college?"

Mingi's sudden question surprises you and you blink at the white ceiling of your bedroom. It was a couple of minutes since you both woke up from the unplanned nap and your hair was out of the ponytail and fanning out across the pillows as you both lie next to each other with elbows brushing.

"Dunno..." You shrug, "I haven't been thinking about it much honestly. I still have two years to go, three if I decide to do a master's degree which I probably will and it's scary thinking about it."

"I know." He chuckles next to you on the bed, sheets covering everything past his hips. "That's why I'm asking. I decided to do my master's here but I'm scared of what will come afterwards."

"Well, if everything works out the way you're hoping it would," You turn to him, "How do you imagine your future to look like?"

He gives a long sigh at that, observing the ceiling in thought.

"I want to work in an IT company that pays me well but I don't have to do overtime. Ever. I just want a 9 to 5 and free weekends and a bunch of off days during the holidays that are paid." Mingi chuckles, "It already sounds unrealistic. I want to still have time to hang out with my friends and explore other interests... college drained me."

You frown at that but somehow understand what he means.

"I'm only twenty two but I'm just so tired...of everything. And I don't have any hobbies or anything because I either spend my time studying or sleeping and even hanging out with friends makes me feel guilty because I feel like I'm supposed to spend every second of my time wisely." He keeps murmuring and you stay quiet by his side, not knowing what to say, "But I have to. My parents pay a lot for me to be here every year, so I have to finish it as quickly as possible and get a job so I can get off their backs."

"Do your parents...pressure you with your studies?" You ask carefully, not wanting to offend him or overstep.

"No." Mingi scoffs with scrunched brows, "They're always happy to help but...you know, I feel like a burden no matter how many times they say they don't mind paying for my college because they want me to get a degree."

He says 'you know' but you don't know. You have no idea what that's like because you never worried about it before. It makes you feel extremely ungrateful.

"Well, you're almost there." You comfort him with a soft smile as his eyes roam your face, "You can start working part-time next year, maybe it will ease up the burden you feel. Lots of companies hire students without master degrees because they want employees secured. It would be tough, juggling a job and your studies but you'll have a job once you're out of college."

Mingi nods, "Yeah, that's my plan."

You turn your gaze back to the ceiling.

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"How does your future look like?" He asks and you chuckle, a little bit bitter.

"Well, if I fuck up with the art somehow, I'll probably still be living with my parents and I'll get married to a guy they choose for me." You say solemnly before your eyes flutter shut, stomach churning just at the idea of that life.

"Rich people really do that?" Mingi looks half surprised and half disturbed.

"What? Arrange marriages?" You ask and he nods so innocently looking that it makes you chuckle.

"My parents are trying to arrange a marriage between Wooyoung and I." You finish with a small laugh, the idea looking so ridiculous. You and Wooyoung? Married?

"Wooyoung?!" He questions with eyes raised so high that they almost disappear in his hair. "Your Wooyoung?!"

"Yeah."

"Did you and Wooyoung ever...hook up or something?”

“Pft, no way.” You snort, “We grew up together, hated each other half of our lives, there was always some sort of competitive streak between us. But we became close friends as of recently. Don’t ask, I don’t know how it happened either. I guess we both just grew up a little.” 

He nods and you both stare at each other for a second.

"Okay, but that's your future if you fuck up." Mingi starts again after a brief moment of silence, "How does it look like if everything works out perfectly?"

You turn to lay on your side, pulling the sheets up your naked body as you position your hand under your head.

"It looks..." You take a second to think, "It looks like a nice apartment with big windows and a balcony where I can drink my morning coffee during the summer."

He raises his eyebrows again, "That's it?"

You nod.

"In Seoul?"

"Yeah, but not in the center of Seoul because it's too loud and the traffic is horrible." You explain and he turns to lay on his side as well, carefully listening to you. "It's somewhere quieter but still close to the center so I can go there whenever I want."

"So somewhere like Seongbuk-dong." Mingi suggests and you raise your eyebrows happily at the ideal.

"Yeah." You nod, "That would be perfect even though the public transport is kinda shit but it's okay, I have a car anyway."

"And the apartment would have an extra room which I would make as my little art space where I can draw and paint. And I would have a couple of plants that I'd have to care for and it would just look...lived in, you know?" You stare around your room, the wall color that your mother picked out, the vanity that your father had made specifically for you, the curtains the interior designer said suited the space.

Everything in your room picked out carefully by everyone but you.

"I'd have stickers and magnets on the fridge, my mom hates those. And Wooyoung could teach me how to cook so I'd have all those cute shelves for spices and ingredients. And the living room would have one of those colorful rugs and I'd have photos hung up everywhere."

"Would you have your drawings displayed as well?" Mingi asks and you shake your head quickly.

"I don't think so. Maybe I'd have someone else's art displayed though." You respond, "I'd have mismatched cushions on the couch and a blanket for when it gets cold and bookshelves in one corner where I'd place a little bit of everything. Books, records, CDs, photos...every other stupid decoration that I'd buy and didn't know where to place...Yeah, stuff like that."

"That sounds nice." He murmurs and you smile tiredly, the thought of that apartment seemed so far away that it looked even more unrealistic than Mingi's 9 to 5 with free weekends and paid holidays.

"Ugh, whatever." Mingi grunts after another minute of silence and he wraps his arms around you pulling you closer to his chest so his chin can rest on the top of your head. "No more adult talk."

You laugh, cursing yourself by the blush rising on your cheeks at the display of affection as you make yourself comfortable against him. You feel him nosing at your hair before inhaling.

You lift your head up to look at him. "Did you just sniff me?"

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times as he stares back at you before rolling your eyes when he sees a smile tugging at your lips. "Don't make it weird! Your hair smells nice."

Then he goes to bury his face in your hair again. "I might sound crazy but it smells the same way your lips do."

You giggle, red as a cherry as you swat him away. "It's cocoa butter. My favorite."

Mingi hums before muttering to himself; "Cocoa butter."

After Mingi leaves, you take a long hot shower and dress in your softest pair of joggers and a sweater before sitting down behind your work desk and pulling up your laptop from your bag.

Valentine's Day was approaching and with the turn of recent events, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to ask Mingi out.

You've been cowering away from the thought of a date for long enough and finally decided to bite the bullet. You will ask a boy out on a date.

Mingi is amazing and a date with him sounded lovely.

You don't exactly know what you should expect from the date, you'd just like to go on one.

You had two boyfriends in total; one used to sell you cocaine and little pills and the other was Yeonjun - who was more of an annoying nuisance that you were forced to spend time with and whose company you only enjoyed when he'd bury his head between your thighs.

He was the only one you ever went on dates with. But you don't really count them as dates, they were more like business meetings and more for the sake of other people seeing you together than the two of you seeing each other.

San never even bothered but why the fuck would he? He wasn't your boyfriend, he probably takes Boyoung on plenty of fun dates even though it's hard for you to even imagine it.

"What do people do on dates..." You mumble to yourself leaning back on your chair and look around your room, thinking of what the two of you could do.

All Mingi and you had done so far was have sex, eat, study together and watch movies. Besides that you really don't know any of his interests.

Just a dinner sounded lame...

You search up all Seoul cinema sites to check what they're showcasing on Valentine's. If you and Mingi watched movies often, then maybe a movie would be a good idea...make this less awkward if it ever came to that.

With a huff, you scroll down the list but your shoulders only deflate the more you scroll because nothing seems to be good enough until...

You gasp dramatically as you sit up and lean closer to the screen.

'Your name' was a movie Mingi mentioned several times during the time you two hung out but you never got around to watching it and now, it was supposed to have a showcase on the 15th of February in a small gallery in the city. A day after Valentine's.

What are the chances, you think giddily, it didn't matter if it wasn't on Valentine's Day specifically - it could still be for Valentine's Day.

Meet and Greet with the author after - VIP Tickets

You gasp again, already knowing that this is it.

This is the date. You reach for your wallet to take your credit card out, a smile already pulling on your lips.

Mingi will be so happy.

Two days later, is the day you decide to put on your big girl pants (or in your case - skirt) on and ask him.

You spend an embarrassing amount of time on the way you look that morning. You always look good- you’re aware but today, you needed to look extra good.

So you do your make-up a bit more carefully, making sure your eyeliner is even and your shadow is blended perfectly before picking out a lipstick that you think compliments your features best.

You decide on a vintage knitted Chanel two piece which is fancy but still casual enough for school. The soft skirt and cropped sweater cling to your curves and you smile happily before pulling on your white knee high boots and coat and you sincerely hope that Mingi will be as excited as you.

Mingi was, in fact, not excited.

You flip your carefully curled hair over your shoulder and fix your outfit before straightening your posture when you see Mingi coming out of the auditorium.

"Hi!" You say with a bright smile and it only slightly falters when Mingi's brows furrow. He seems disheveled.

"Hey." He greets simply, beginning to walk past you, "Look, I can't make it to the library today-"

"It's okay! I just need to talk to you real quick!" He sighs and you notice how he does it as if you're a burden but you don't let it dim your smile because he stops in front of you.

"What is it, Y/N? Hurry up." He says quietly, very serious.

You gulp nervously, wiping your clammy hands on the back of your skirt. Mingi impatiently taps his foot.

"Y/N, I don't have time today for your stupid shit, just-"

"Okay. Okay!" You interrupt with a nervous giggle, trying very hard not to get upset at the 'stupid shit' part. "I was thinking that, well, Valentine's Day is coming up and, uh, I thought that you and I could, well..."

You were so nervous. You've never asked anyone out before.

"You and I could what?" The change in his tone and the way he looks at you incredulously makes the smile melt from you face.

You blink, even more nervous now. You're scared.

Somewhere in the starry Wonderland sky, Mingi is forcing you to inch closer to the edge of the rug.

"We could..." You stutter out before continuing in a mere whisper, "Go on a date."

Mingi's eyes bug out as if he heard you wrong.

"You and me. On a date?" He repeats, as if even the idea of it was the stupidest thing he has heard all day. "Are you out of your mind?"

Ouch.

"H-huh?" You squeak out but all he does is keep staring. "What do you mean?"

Mingi closes his eyes, head falling slightly as he takes a deep breath and you feel your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

"I can't go on a date with you, Y/N. I can't date you." He says slowly but with some frustration to it, and the way he speaks to you as if you were dumb almost makes tears line your lower lash line.

Song Mingi...rejected you?

"I don't understand. Why c-couldn't you? You don't like me?"

"Whether I like you or not isn't fucking important right now. You think I could just go on a date with the girl that humiliated my best friend in front of the entire cafeteria? Not even a day after she got heartbroken by the same guy you humiliated her for, no less? I'm going to see her right now because she didn't leave her dorm for the past three days." He mumbles seriously with a huff, cheeks red from anger and you feel like this scene of you asking him out was the greatest inconvenience he experienced today.

Then his words registered and without thinking...

"San and Boyoung broke up?" You swear that you ask out of genuine curiosity and surprise.

Mingi doesn't take it that way though.

His shoulders drop and he shakes his head at you in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"

"What?"

"You're still in love with him." He accuses almost dejectedly.

"What are you talking about, Mingi? I don't understand why you're acting like this." You roll your eyes, grateful that you're in an empty hallway right now because you feel like a screaming match will ensue. "What does San have to do with any of this? I'm asking you out on a date!"

You couldn’t even manage to wrap your head around all the new information you were receiving because Song Mingi was in the process of rejecting you.

"I'm not going on a fucking date with you!" He snaps and your jaw drops slightly in hurt.

"Why not?!"

"San and Boyoung just broke up!" You look at him like he was the crazy one.

"So what? What do they have to do with us?" You ask in genuine confusion because you had no idea why he was so angry.

"What do they have to do-" He chuckles humorlessly before muttering, "You're so fucking selfish."

"What?" You whisper and he picks up his head to look at you, disdain clear in his eyes.

"You're selfish! My best friend is hurt because of that asshole and she needs me now! She can't see me going on stupid dates with the girl she hates!" His jaw is clenched and eyes angry.

Boyoung. It's always about Boyoung.

"What about me?" You ask in a small voice. Did you not matter to him at all? Not even a little bit? "How did you think this was going to end?"

"See! You. You. You. It always has to be about you!" Mingi rants and your face pinches in an expression of a newly brewing anger.

"That's not true." You throw back, voice stronger.

"Yes, it is!" He laughs breathlessly as if he can't take your words seriously at all. "Boyoung is my best friend! I'm supposed to stick by her side no matter what. How do you think she'd feel if she found out I'm dating you?"

It's not in your nature to take anyone's bullshit without biting back at least a little bit.

"You didn't seem to think about her precious little feelings when you were fucking me for the past three months." You throw back, a fake but condescending smirk crawling on your face and hiding the fact that you were close to choking.

"So you thought me jumping in your bed and taking interest in your pretentious art would be enough to trap me into dating you?" But you don't expect Song Mingi to be capable of being this mean...

"Trap you?" You whisper, brows furrowed and eyes already filled with tears. "You think I'm trying to trap you?"

Was that what a relationship with you was? A trap?

Did San feel like that, as well? Did Yeonjun? Did everyone else? Mingi did, that much was obvious.

"I didn't-" Mingi starts before throwing his head back with a frustrated groan. "I can't date you, Y/N. I'm sorry, I can't. She's my best friend, she's been with me through everything and I can't do that to her."

"You can't do that to her but you can do this to me." You comment, lips pursuing in a nasty grimace as you stare at him. You refuse to cry. You don't cry in public. "You can fuck me for almost three months, hang out with me all the time and then drop me because you finally remembered that your best friend and I aren't on good terms?"

"What you and I had wasn't even that serious-" Mingi tries to defend himself but you can tell that even he doesn't believe the words that leave his lips.

It was serious. It was serious to you.

Then you notice the words he used.

What you and I had.

Had. Past tense. You don't have it anymore, Mingi just decided.

"I was trying to make it serious by asking you out on a fucking date right now."

"You're in love with San-"

"Oh for fuck's sake-" You pause, feeling like your heart weighs a ton and that it's about to snap off and fall through your stomach. With furrowed eyebrows and eyes filled with unshed tears, you whisper; "Are you in love with Boyoung?"

"What?" Mingi asks in disbelief, eyes widening and mouth dropping open.

"Is that why you're so intent on saying I'm in love with San? Because you're in love with her and think you have a chance now that they broke up?" You guess, the two tickets feeling all too heavy in the pocket of your coat.

"Don't project onto me." He hisses, glaring at you as his anger spikes. "Is that what you plan on doing now that San is single again? Going after him?"

You don't bother correcting him anymore. You don't know why, might be the pettiness. You might even want him to think that you'll go after San.

Ten minutes before this, the thought wouldn't even cross your mind because all you were thinking about was a date with Mingi.

This argument has blown out of proportion and you don't even know what you're fighting about anymore.

You just wanted a stupid fucking date.

"You always act like you're so much fucking better than me for some reason when our situations aren't all that different, are they Mingi?" You scoff with an eye roll. You knew you were going to pay for all of this and now the time has come. "Both in love with people who don't love us back."

"Oh, don't do that." Mingi laughs bitterly, he shakes his head with a dark smile. "Don't compare your version of love to mine."

See, now that you were both angry and hurt, things were bound to escalate.

You take a step back, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that Boyoung does love me. It might not be the way I once wanted her to but she does love me. She shows it every single day when she grabs a cup of coffee for me on the way to class or when she sends me stupid shit that she knows will make me laugh. She's my best friend and she loves me and I love her back the same way." He divulges with a mocking smile at you. Your hands grab the ends of your skirt in agony.

"And San?" He chuckles humorlessly and you know this is about to be the moment that you'll see the tragic end. "San fucks you. He doesn't give a shit about you otherwise and he knows you have very little self-respect for yourself to ever call him out on it."

You flinch like you've been slapped, cheeks burning from the embarrassment and anger as you glare at him.

You wish you could be meaner to him. In fact, you have the insults and jabs sitting at the tip of your tongue.

Something along the lines of; Maybe Boyoung would've loved you the way you wanted her to if you had a proper set of balls. Who wants to date a little bitch of a man? No one wants to be involved with a quitter. Someone who will run away at the first sign of struggle.

And all those would be some of your weakest insults yet but you can't think of anything else on the spot at the moment. Not like it matters, you would never actually say them to him.

You simply can't be mean to Song Mingi. The thought of ever hurting him makes you feel disgusting and wrong and it only serves as proof of the feelings you've developed for him over the past few months you've spent together.

Mingi stares back and you think you can see a tinge of regret color his features for a second at the words he just said but he doesn't address them further.

He sighs, eyes falling to the floor and you stay silent biting your bottom lip until he decides to look up again.

His eyes look softer now, sadder.

"I just don't want to fight with my best friend." He admits quietly. "We've never fought before, not even when I confessed and she rejected me. Nothing was ever worth fighting with her over, not even my hurt feelings so I think it's best that we just end...whatever this was."

You smile shallowly, feeling like the hinges on your face will break and the doors will fly open and your true colors will show. The rusty mechanisms and dirty, bent out of shape nails that hide beneath the surface.

What you and Mingi had always had an expiration date, you knew that, but foolishly you somehow still hoped for a different outcome.

"You don't think I'm worth the fight?" You ask quietly and Mingi's eyes glue themselves to your face for a second too long before they eventually fall to the tiles.

He stays silent and you get your answer.

Finally, Mingi pulls the rug from under your feet and you're tumbling down through the fish shaped clouds and hear the stars cry for you. You're falling past the lively trees and pink mountains until you're landing in the daisy lake with a large splash.

The people that live in the house on the small hill are all asleep, they don't hear your yell.

You're sinking deeper into the lake, inhaling flowers until you're choking on them and there is a clearance on the surface that allows you to see Mingi watching with a stoic face as you drown- before he flies away.

Wooyoung knows something isn't right from the moment you step into his apartment.

But he doesn't ask.

Instead, he treats you like an injured animal and lures you to the couch with promises of food and a movie.

Wooyoung puts on Notting Hill and with a jumbo pizza on the table and two cans of Coke along with other various snacks like mozzarella sticks and dips, you two get comfy on the couch. Your pretty outfit which you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking out for today, is all wrinkled by now as you curl yourself up against a pillow.

You don't eat, you feel like you can't stomach it right now and only opt for staring blankly at the TV screen and ignoring the cautious glances Wooyoung throws your way every once in awhile.

"The food is getting cold." He says quietly and after another moment of silence, you reach out and take a small slice of pizza from the cardboard box and biting into it.

As you chew on the greasy food, you don't even notice the tears welling up in your eyes as you watch William Thacker and his group of friends all pilled into a shitty car, speeding through the streets of London just to get to Anna Scott in time.

With mouth stuff with food, you murmur, "I want that."

Wooyoung pauses mid-chew and turns to you slowly with wide eyes, confusion evident on his face.

"You...want to break several traffic laws in a high-speed chase...?"

You swallow down the bite you took, bottom lip wobbling.

"I want someone to want me that much." You whisper, gulping down your tears because you just feel so fucking stupid. But this is Wooyoung and you can tell him almost anything by now. "I want someone who will be tripping over their words when they talk to me because they're nervous and want to impress me."

Wooyoung's lips part and eyes soften as he stares at you, mouth still filled with food.

"I want someone who will anticipate whether or not I'll call and get disappointed when I don't pick up. I want...I want someone who will take me out on dates and buy me flowers and tell their friends how much they like me. I w-want someone to be into me that much that they drive the wrong way in a one way street no matter how stupid and dangerous it is..." The dam breaks and then the tears start. "I don't care how cheesy or conceited it is, I want all of it."

"God, Wooyoung." You sob softly and can't even look at him in the eyes because you're embarrassed of being this vulnerable in front of anyone. "I'm so tired...I'm so tired of feeling like I'm something disposable."

"Y/N..."

"I don't want to be someone just for sex or to brag about to other people." You cry, vision blurry from all the tears, "I can be s-sweet too! I can be s-someone's girlfriend as well! I...want to be loved! I want to be loved in the most innocent way possible even though I m-might not deserve it."

"You do deserve it." Wooyoung firmly states and it only makes you cry harder.

You drop the slice of pizza back on the table and cover your eyes with your hands, choking on your tears.

"Mingi turned me down."

A moment of silence ensues.

"Oh, Y/N-ie..." And then arms are wrapped around you and you're inhaling the scent of Wooyoung's clean hoodie as you cry into him.

Wooyoung soothes you with calming words and at one point, the sobs shake your whole body and you feel like you won't be able to ever speak again because all you'll do is keep choking on tears and swallowing your words.

"He said no..." You whimper against his chest and Wooyoung runs a finger through your hair, his cheek resting at the top of your head.

"I'm sorry." He whispers and you can tell he feels guilty, "I really thought he liked you."

You shake your head, still hiccuping.

"It's not your fault." You respond sniffling, "I wanted to ask him out. And I don't regret it. At least, n-now I know."

"I spent a f-fortune on tickets for a movie. It was a s-special screening. The writer w-was supposed to be t-there." You explain further, hiding your face in the fabric of his hoodie.

"What movie?" Wooyoung asks quietly, "Maybe you and I can go watch it then."

"Your Name." You reply, cheeks turning red.

"Your Name?" His chest rumbles as he speaks. "The animation? I didn't know you liked watching those."

"I don't!" You whine, tears resurfacing. "But Mingi does. It's h-his favorite m-movie!"

Wooyoung stills for a second before a sigh escapes him. "That's the cutest shit I've ever heard. Mingi is an idiot."

You look up at him with your bottom lip still wobbling, keeping in the new influx of tears.

"I mean it! He's an idiot, if someone did something like that for me I would be over the moon!"

"He didn't know what I had planned..."

"It doesn't matter. Anyone asking you out on a date is pretty sweet. And I take back my words from earlier, I know he likes you!"

"You're just saying that..."

"I mean it!" He persists and you sigh against him as your tears finally subside a smudge. "And what you said before, you do deserve to be loved genuinely and trust me when I say  that a whole classroom of guys would be willing to drive the wrong way in a one way street for you."

You pick the threads of his hoodie as you snort. "Yeah? Where are they?"

"You just keep getting tangled up with the wrong ones!" Wooyoung exclaims with a huff, "Honey isn't the only one who likes cruel men apparently."

"Mingi isn't cruel..."

"Oh my God, can you not defend him right now?" Wooyoung groans and you pout, "You'll feel so much better after you talk shit about him a little bit!"

"He was so mean." You complain burying yourself further into his embrace to hide the tears that formed just at the thought of today.

"Asshole." Wooyoung scoffs, "It takes a lot of courage to ask someone out and if they decline, they should at least be somewhat considerate about it!"

"I guess...but...I don't know."

You were mean as well. A little bit. You definitely made him angrier but that wasn't your fault! He was hostile from the moment he saw you today.

"...what did he say?"

You open your mouth to tell him. 'So you thought me jumping in your bed and taking interest in your pretentious art would be enough to trap me into dating you?' You shake your head, "I don't want to talk about it."

Wooyoung sighs.

"I think you'd feel better if you did but...whatever you want."

Valentine's Day arrives and you do nothing else but be bitter.

Wooyoung stays true to his word and picks you up on the day after so the tickets you've carefully picked out don't go to waste. The movie is nice, it's not your style but you can tell why it would be Mingi's favorite. You don't meet the author though, you don't care enough and you're way too sad.

After the movie, you both go to dinner and it turns into a lovely evening. It's not with a boy who you see in a romantic light but it's with your best friend and you almost think it's better that way.

Maybe you don't need love, maybe you just need Wooyoung by your side. Your Wooyoung. Your rock.

Still, it's not enough to cover up the gap that Mingi left.

Frankly, you were aware that he made himself a permanent presence in your everyday life but it sucks to have to admit it to yourself. Especially now, when it seemed like the time you spent together didn't mean to him as much as it meant to you.

How pathetic.

You didn't see him at all ever since the fight you two had except for that one time in the cafeteria where he was having lunch with Boyoung. You had to walk past their table in order to reach Jennie and the girls so you almost turned back around and just skipped lunch altogether.

But you're not that type of person. When did you ever cower away from anyone?

You walked past them with your head held up high, not even sparing Mingi or Boyoung a glance. You hope it looked like you couldn't care less.

He stopped coming to the library. You didn't because you didn't have the privilege of living with Hongjoong to see him every day, so you and him still met up there almost every day to work.

Hongjoong's third sigh in the last five minutes finally makes you look up from your notes only to have him looking at you already.

"What?"

"Are you ever going to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Y/N," He gives you an 'are you serious?' look and you pursue your lips. "What happened between the two of you? He isn't telling me anything either."

"Well, if he isn't telling you anything then there isn't much to say, is there?" You respond back snippily, hoping it would throw him off your back. But Hongjoong doesn't budge.

"That bitchy act doesn't work on me, you should know that by now." He replies, not moved in the slightest by your harsh demeanor and you roll your eyes. "Now tell me, which one fucked up? Was it you?"

Define fucking up Hongjoong, you think, would asking someone out on a measly date be considered as fucking up? Or was even starting anything with Song Mingi in the first place the part where you fucked up?

"I didn't do anything." You grumble, Hongjoong eyes you.

"So, it was Mingi." He concludes and you huff.

The thing is, you don't want this to affect Hongjoong's friendship with Mingi. You don't want him to think badly about Mingi either. Was this why dating within a friend group was always something dramatic and annoying? You wouldn't know, this was the first time you had an actual friend group but you suppose it could be an obstacle.

You're tied to a tree, the ropes digging into your skin and the pink leaves tickling your temple as you glare at the two men in front of you.

Kim Hongjoong and Jung Wooyoung are dressed in matching detective outfits, hats on their heads and badges glistening under the blue sun.

Detective Hongjoong has a pipe between his lips as he reaches up for one of the branches of the tree and pulls down an interrogation lamp, pointing it's bright light straight to your face which makes you squint.

"Tell us what you know!" He exclaims loudly, pointing at you with the same hand he holds the pipe with.

"You're not getting a word out of me!" You yell back brazenly, eyes still squinted from the bright light boring into your face and a 'tsk' sound leaves him as he turns to Detective Wooyoung who is carefully walking over the patch of grass you all found yourselves on, a magnifying glass in his hand.

"Detective Jung! Anything suspicious?" Detective Hongjoong yells over his shoulder and Detective Wooyoung stands up from his crouched position, the magnifying glass still pressed to his eye, making it look abnormally large.

"Footsteps with traces of stardust in them, sir!"

Detective Hongjoong turns to you with a vicious snarl, pocketing his pipe in the pocket of his long houndstooth coat. Detective Wooyoung crosses his arms with the same glare aimed at you. You gulp, eyes growing wide.

"Stardust, huh?" Detective Hongjoong nods sardonically before his face folds into another glare, "You've been happy!" He yells at you accusingly.

"Hongjoong, just...drop it." You groan but this time softer, "I don't want to talk about it. I didn't do anything, Mingi didn't do anything either. We just decided to call it quits. That's it."

You conveniently leave out the parts that have been prickling at you from the day that conversation in the hall happened. This is simpler.

"And you couldn't call it quits on good terms or something?" Hongjoong questions nosily, eyebrow raising as he stares at you.

You don't have an answer for that.

"It's...complicated."

"Everything is, it seems like." Hongjoong dryly replies.

That Tuesday you walk into Professor Ahn's office. It's still dark and messy but the usual layer of dust on the shelves of her office is missing. She had a cleaning day over the weekend it seemed like.

"Oh, you're here." She grumbles and you try not to roll your eyes at the greeting. Her murky demeanor has almost become endearing over time.

"Yep." You reply, sitting down on your designated chair and placing your bag on the chair next to you.

"Well, I have some news." She says, not paying much attention to you as she focuses on writing something down. "I did something."

You eye her cautiously. "And what would that be?"

"I made a portfolio of the scans from your notebook and sent them in as your application to Beaux-Arts de Paris." She answers simply without giving you another glance and your jaw drops.

"To Beau-the what?"

Finally, Professor Ahn looks up. Her face is pinched into an expression of annoyance which seems to be permanent whenever you're around. You don't think you've ever seen her smile.

"Beaux-Arts de Paris." She repeats in perfect french and you still stare at her like a cow looking at a new gate. "It's one of the finest Parisian art schools."

"And you didn't think that was something I would've liked to discuss beforehand?!" You glare, neck flushing from frustration.

"No. Because I knew you'd be against it."

"Of course, I'd be against it!" You exclaim loudly, "I can't go to Paris!"

Your parents...they would never allow that. They barely let you study art in Seoul.

"Who said you were going to Paris?" She wonders, thin glasses slipping down her nose so she's able to peer at you with that terrifying stare of hers. "You aren't even accepted yet."

"Still! I would've liked to know!" You whine, "And the drawings from my notebook?! Really?!"

Professor Ahn rolls her eyes. "Quit the dramatics."

Just those words are enough to make you huff but also, silence you.

"The worst that could happen is that you don't get in. The best that could happen is that you get in and even then, it doesn't mean you have to attend. It would just be an option." She explains curtly and your hands clench into fists by your sides, something fluttery curling in your chest at the thought of getting in.

"Whatever." You roll your eyes, "I won't go if I get in, anyway."

"Excellent."

"Good."

"Lovely."

"Fantastic!"

"I think you should change the direction of your art."

There is a beat of stifling silence.

"What?!"

Professor Ahn blinks at you before heaving a deep sigh.

"You paint now as your main direction but I think the drawings in your notebook are much more promising and that is the type of art you should be focusing on." She explains and you blanch at her, quite literally at a loss of words. "I think you could be a great illustrator one day."

See, there is something you haven't mentioned before.

Before you started college and after your parents finally agreed to let you take art as your godforsaken major - it was under one term.

You were to be a painter.

It wasn't that your parents were majorly into art or anything, they didn't appreciate any form of it actually. It was that if you were to study something as useless as art (in their opinion), it would be the classiest form of it.

Painting.

Lady-like, sophisticated and classy.

You liked painting, so you didn't see the problem with their condition. But you didn't expect for anyone to ever see the drawings in your thick notebook or to ever actually think they're good.

You never expected the thought of being an illustrator to wake up such an excitement in you either.

"I...I can't do that. I paint."

"You're better at sketching, illustrations, telling a story. You're great at it."

"I can't do that."

Professor Ahn sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a second before they meet yours again.

"Why don't you take some time to think about it? I'm sure it's not an easy decision to make."

"There isn't a decision to make." You respond with a sharp tone, glare set on your features.

"I thought you wanted to improve as an artist. I thought you wanted to grow and learn."

"I do!"

"Your paintings are stagnant and mediocre at best." Your mouth clamps shut at the harsh comment. "The reason why they're picked out to be displayed is because you're surrounded by equally mediocre individuals in that school of yours and you just have half an ounce more talent and imagination that makes you stand out among them."

Professor Ahn obviously wants to drive the point of how mediocre you are to home because she continues.

"There is no growth in your paintings. It's the same thing painted over and over again just on different canvases because it's what comes easiest to you so you stick to it because it's safe." She snaps harshly and you clench your jaw tight. "Your drawings on the other hand...you explore there, with different styles, different colors, different feelings and it turns out remarkable every time because you're not afraid of being judged in that notebook."

"But being an artist means being judged. It means throwing your most vulnerable moments into a painting, drawing, sketch...whatever and showing it to the world no matter how they take it." She spits the words at you and you have to press your lips tightly together to keep the curses in. "It means taking risks and challenging yourself. If you don't do that, you will peak in college because you settled for being better than the people from your classes and don't be mistaken, being better than them isn't an achievement. In the real world, as an artist, your paintings will get chewed up and spat back out because you will be against excellence and not mediocrity."

You swallow, "I don't know what makes you think you can talk to me like this."

Professor Ahn holds her head up high, "You need someone to tell you the truth and that's what I'm here for."

"And your truth is that I'll never make it as a painter?" You chuckle humorlessly, looking away and letting your eyes focus on the pile of newspaper collected on an old coffee table pushed to the wall of the room.

"Precisely. And even a blind person could notice that you don't like painting either and you're only insisting on it because it's what you think you should do."

"You fucking bitch." You hiss out, not being able to contain yourself anymore as swallow down the tears threatening to spill.

"I used to work as a professor so I've been told worse. You can call me whatever you want, Y/N, I couldn't care less." She shrugs and you glare at her viciously, the fact that she seems unbothered by the insult making you fire up even more. "I'm just trying to push you in the right direction."

"Go to hell." You spit out finally, having just about enough of everything and grabbing your bag hastily and leaving her office without looking back.

You're sick and tired of Professor Ahn and her 'help' and backhanded compliments that are only used to disguise her clear dislike towards you.

"Nasty, bitter old hag." You mutter angrily to yourself as you walk to your car parked on the sidewalk in front of her old house. You unlock it and getting, loudly slamming the door shut. You grip the steering wheel tightly, a mocking chuckle escaping you as you put the key in the ignition while you mutter to yourself, "Not peeking out of her wreck of a house, shunned in her dusty office but saying I'm the one scared of being judged."

Over your own dead boy will you let her get into your head.

By the time you reach the driveway of your home, you have managed to calm down and all that's left off your anger is a sour mood and an incoming sadness that will hit once the sun goes down. Which isn't too far away since it still got dark by 5 p.m.

When you start dragging your feet up the stairs to your bedroom, you realize how much you miss Mingi.

But he doesn't miss you.

Once again, it's embarrassing to be the one to care more. It's even worse when you are always the one to care more.

You can't decide to what extent your feelings for him went. It wasn't love but it would've been if you had let it drag on further so maybe it's better that it's over. Well, no point to think about it now.

Seonghwa eyes your frown and tired eyes as you walk past him in the hallway.

"What's up with you?" He calls after you, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He's off from work early today.

"Nothing." You reply shortly, about to slam the door shut without even looking back to him.

"Y/N." He warns and you groan, your fuse incredibly short after the day you had that you turn to him swiftly with a glare.

"I'm not snorting anything up my nostrils, Seonghwa! You can relax!" You exclaim sarcastically and then close the door shut with a loud 'bang!'.

You don't hear his response but can hear his footsteps going down the stairs.

The days drag on after that. They're all the same, fusing into a wormhole of going to classes, meeting Hongjoong in the library, eating, seeing Wooyoung and sleeping. There aren't even any social gatherings which could potentially break the draining cycle.

Before you know it, you're a week into the month of March and you see Mingi again.

Suprise, surprise! He's with Boyoung. Again.

That fucking klutz bumps into you again when you're on your way to the cafeteria. She doesn't apologize this time though and if you knew that she had the balls, you'd think it's intentional.

But Son Boyoung is so fucking bland that you know even if it was an attempt at being spiteful- it was pathetic.

You stand in front of the two of them and notice Mingi holding his breath, avoiding your eyes.

You clench your jaw at the feeling of hurt swirling in your chest once your eyes meet his. He looks cautious. Fuck you, Mingi. I bought tickets for your favorite movie, they were pretty expensive might I add, only to be ditched for the absolute mess of a girl by your side right now.

He probably thinks you'll say something nasty. You wonder if you did, would he defend her. Boyoung seems to be expecting it as well by the way she juts her chin out in a false display of bravado.

And you probably could if you were honest, you had a lot of frustrations that needed to be taken out on someone and sweet, little Boyoung seemed like she was presenting herself on a silver platter for it.

But why the fuck would you be mean now? Contrary to popular belief, being a terrible person is actually quite draining.

Now, when San wants nothing to do with you (not to mention Boyoung and him are over- that was a can of worms you have yet to open) and you obviously don't mean enough to Mingi, Son Boyoung is what she was at the start- meaningless.

You wonder why you don't feel as elated as you thought you'd be by their breakup. You don't feel happy, in fact you think you were more relieved when San and Boyoung were dating. Now, some burden is back on your shoulders and you're not sure what it really means.

"For the last time, watch where you're fucking going." You snap at Boyoung, avoiding Mingi's eyes that bore into the side of your face at all cost as you push past the two of them without looking back.

When you tell Wooyoung about the incident, he says you should've told Boyoung how you fucked Mingi and you fucked him good. But you're glad you didn't do that.

Not because of Boyoung but because you knew it would bring pain to Mingi and you just can't find it in yourself to do that.

You still can't hurt Song Mingi. Goddammit.

A week after that is when everything flips upside down once again.

You're home alone, lounging on your bed and listening to music in your yoga pants and hoodie, when the doorbell rings.

You're confused on who it might be. Seonghwa was in Japan with your father and they weren't supposed to be back until Sunday. Your mother was in Busan for a reunion with her friends. You sent all the staff home as well because it felt selfish to keep them here when it's just you.

Walking down the stairs and into the foyer, you head to the front door as you zip up the hoodie you had on.

You swing the door open and are hit with the chilly air of the March night.

All you can do is stare at him.

"Hey, Y/N."

He's here.

You could've never imagined to see him here with his hands in his pockets, looking so out of place on the steps of your home.

In a thick black jacket and jeans, raven hair falling across his forehead and reaching just above his eyes.

Pretty eyes, that have haunted you for so long now, are staring back at you and his mouth quirks up a bit causing the devastating dimples to show.

Maybe Wooyoung was right.

Maybe you do like cruel men.

"San."

[berryunho]

taglist ^^ @knucklesdeepmingi @atzcoke @kpopnightingale @ferrethyun @ionasfeelings @floatingpluto @wooandtaeluvr @atoz151 @belletiny @avantalem @marievllr-abg @some-distant-century @dysftopia @kodzukein @the-maze-of-books @dogsongy @calirix @sankatchu @elk-1998 @ghoekman @harusoraa @raspberryhong @marsattacks @actuallyalien @tomoonteez @bae4choi @babygurl-hoshi @not-everything-is-so-primative @superheros-and-others @dreams-in-progress @uncoveredsun @realrya @hegdus @xnoelle127x @aaaaa7on @ad0rechuu @wooyoungjpg @xiaxki @bella-hi @flwrshwa @ultgojo @n0v4t33z @fondontinta @rainsunni @calirix @burnsmepls @aaaaas7on @hwasrie-main @fanficlov @frankenstein852 @sollumi @pyeonghongrie-main @eburneon @sankatchu @souydive @uncoveredsun @httpsmultifandom apologies to anyone that cant be tagged </3

THE ANSWER: XXVII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 8,561

You take in San’s words, blinking aggressively. You pull your face away from his, your questions clear from your expression.

San squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at you for too long. “I can’t explain it now. Or, well, I’ll explain it all soon, but we need to leave.”

“Leave? Like, the farm?” You question, your words coming faster than you can control them. “What? San? Did something happen?” 

He opens his eyes, then, staring into yours. The pain is evident in his face, his internal struggle still battling. 

“After today, I can’t predict what Hongjoong will do to get you to break.” San admits, tears welling in his eyes. “He’s going to hurt you, and if he can’t, he’ll kill you.” 

“What happened to you, San?” You ask, more concerned by his disheveled appearance than by the revelation of the thoughts that you’ve had hundreds of times. 

He shakes his head. “It’s not important, I promise. I’m fine.” He pauses, sucking in a breath. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m fine, San, just shaken up, I guess. Do you know how Hongjoong did that?” 

His hands squeeze your forearms tighter, gripping you like he’s going to lose you. “I have no idea. But if he’s willing to go this far, I… fuck, I can’t believe it. I have to get you away from this.” 

You can only gape at him. You can’t believe that San is saying these things to you. San had always been so loyal to Hongjoong, even leading up to the very moments before the ceremony. What could possibly have made him flip his entire script so quickly? 

It’s almost touching to realize how much San must care for you. If he’s willing to abandon this for you… Fuck. 

“San, when can we go?” You try to not sound so eager, but the prospect of getting away is so sweet. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead before replying. “I have to think on it, but I swear that it will be soon. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to figure it out.” 

You want to ask what it is that he’s figured out or what made him realize, but that sits in the backseat compared to the thought that suddenly rises to the forefront of your mind. “What about Haseul? And Mingi?” 

San freezes, still searching your face. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, but no words come out. 

“San?” 

“I,” he pauses, biting his lip, “I’ll have to think about it more. We might have to come back for them.” 

You don’t like that idea, but you had thought it yourself a few times before. It would be a lot easier to get yourself out and come back with people that could actually stand a chance against this group rather than try and sneak out with someone else, risking all of your lives in the process. 

“Just trust me, yeah?” He smiles, letting go of your arms to readjust his shirt. 

You nod, throwing the blanket off of your legs. This is as good of a time as any to get out of the infirmary. Whatever had been going on with San, they must not care too much if you’re back with him considering the fact that he’s here now. 

Once San is reassembled, he offers you his hand again, helping you stand as you swing your legs off the bed. The two of you leave the room, passing by Nayeon as you walk down the hallway. She waves, smiling while you go. 

San drops your hand once you’re outside, but keeps one on the small of your back. He could reasonably pass that off as just helping you stay upright. 

By now, it’s mid-morning, almost 11. The sun is high and the fields— 

For the first time since you had arrived at the farm, you saw the farm equipment actually being put to use. A huge combine harvester moves through the field, still relatively close to the barn. You’re awestruck to actually see work being done, amazed that the time has passed so quickly. 

You halt in your tracks, lifting a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun so that you can watch the machine move. It doesn’t move particularly fast, but, by God, is it freaky looking. You wouldn’t want that thing coming to run you down, that’s for sure.

Which only reminds you of the time that you had tried to escape. And then resorted to hiding in the corn. 

When all of the corn is harvested, how will this place look? Barren. Cold. You don’t want to picture it; all that land with nowhere to hide. Will you even have to see it? Maybe you’ll be gone by then. 

A waving figure catches your eye off in the distance. You’re easily able to identify Yeosang once you look fully at him, and you raise your hand back in greeting, having to squint your eyes against the sun. 

San doesn’t wave back, instead ushering you to turn back toward the compound and keep moving. 

“Are we in a rush?” You ask, allowing him to steer you toward the door. 

San glances around, “I wouldn’t say that. But I’d feel better if we were alone in our apartment.” 

Well, okay, you guess. You would think that it would be a bit suspicious if you both suddenly started acting differently, but it’ll probably be okay for right now. At least until you can talk to San about everything. 

You head inside, trying to walk to the stairs. But you’re stopped before either of you can make the first step, a voice calling your name behind you.

It’s Wooyoung, you realize, before you even turn around to face him. 

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” 

You glare across the foyer at him, wondering what kind of nerve this kid must have to be talking to you like you’re best friends again. 

He has a point, though. You turn your attention to your stomach, but you’re not surprised that the general sense of nausea and unease still lingers there; nothing like hunger. “I’m not hungry.” 

You know better than to directly accuse him of drugging you again. You really don’t know if he did… it’s possible that he didn’t. But, really, looking back on it… Ugh, you’ll just ask San later. He had already told you what he thought, but… you don’t know. Just, whatever. 

Wooyoung squints, a flat expression on his face. “Are you feeling alright after everything? Not just anyone can say they stood down a Guardian.” 

That’s really rich, coming from Wooyoung, you have to admit. The guy that basically told you that you need to accept your role in this place because he isn’t happy with his, either. Maybe he’s trying to sympathize with you, as a fellow skeptic. You won’t take the “compliment” at face value, but you still don’t appreciate the remark. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” you shrug, hoping to end the conversation there. 

He doesn’t look convinced. “I’ll have someone run some food up for you guys.” 

San thanks him for you, clearly ending the conversation there. He ushers the both of you up the stairs and to your apartment, swiftly locking the door behind you once you’re inside. 

You look around your apartment, almost expecting something to have changed, but nothing has. Everything is just how you left it this morning, not a single thing out of order. 

“Are we talking about this now, then?” You question, looking to San as he paces in front of the couch. He doesn’t stop pacing, but he does gesture for you to sit down, “you’re really worrying me, San.” 

He halts in place then, frowning, but not sitting next to you. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” he lets his sentence hang in the air, “I can’t believe… I can’t believe it.” 

“What happened to you while I was out?” You want to reach out and grab his hand, but you can’t, he’s moving too much. 

San starts pacing again, “well, first of all, sorry for disappearing on your right before the ceremony.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Seonghwa appeared out of nowhere and pulled me aside to talk about literally nothing and then, by the time I realized what was happening, the ceremony had started and I couldn’t have helped you.” 

He freezes, as if recalling the memory, “and then the ceremony happened. And, and that thing appeared. I hope to God that Hongjoong or Seonghwa or someone was able to explain that to you, because I can’t. I don’t know what that was, I’ve never seen anything like it or heard of Hongjoong—” he stops abruptly. “I mean that I don’t know how that happened. And I saw it grab you and I seriously, I thought that it was now, that, that Hongjoong had enough of you and— I thought you were going to die.” 

It’s only now that his voice falters, breaking with his last sentence. You’re no stranger to San’s emotions, but his tears always have an effect on you. To his credit, he does a good job of keeping it mostly together as he keeps speaking. 

“But then it was over, and you were on the ground, and I tried to stand up to go to you, but Seonghwa held me down, and I couldn’t do anything. I felt so helpless watching Hongjoong pick you up, watching Mingi run to his side to take you off of his hands and carry you out. I tried to get up again, but Seonghwa wouldn’t let me go. I almost fucking hit him.” He shakes at the memory, his voice thick with both anger and his tears. “We stayed there for a long time. We just waited until Hongjoong came back, and he sure fucking came back. He was incensed. Didn’t even say why. Even Seonghwa looked nervous as he screamed and bitched and threw shit around.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

“You will not take her from me!” Hongjoong screams, at neither man in particular. “I don’t care which one of you it is; I forbade it for a reason and I will be fucking respected!” 

Seonghwa doesn’t move an inch at San’s side. San doesn’t say anything, either.

Hongjoong’s rage permeates the chapel. “Why isn’t she scared? Why isn’t she terrified, whimpering and begging for her life at my feet?” He starts pacing up and down the aisle, kicking copies of The Answer that he had thrown to the ground. “Doesn’t she realize that I am the only thing standing between her and a cold grave?” He whirls to face the other two men. “Answer me!”

“I think she is scared of you,” San mutters, “but she’s good at hiding it in front of you.” 

Hongjoong’s face contorts into a smile, and San knows that he’s fucked up. “Is that it? How do you know, San? Do you hold her at night while she cries in your arms at my cruelty?” 

San only blinks, unable to respond in a way that would please his leader. 

“She doesn’t know about Haseul yet. What is she going to think when she finds out that her boyfriend let her die?” 

“Hongjoong—,” Seonghwa cuts in, “She can’t know about Haseul, even if you want to scare her. It’s invaluable for us to be able to hold this ove—”

“You will not tell me what I can and cannot do, Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong yells, “I am in charge here! I am! If I want her to know about Haseul, she will know about Haseul.” 

“Of course you are, Hongjoong, you don’t need to be so angry.” Seonghwa tries to console Hongjoong, to absolutely no avail. 

Hongjoong puts his palms together, resting his index fingers on his forehead as he thinks. “I cannot take this disrespect much longer.” 

The chapel remains in tense silence, neither San nor Seonghwa wanting to be the first to say something.

Apparently that’s not what Hongjoong wanted, either. “Seonghwa,” he gets the man’s attention, “hold San steady for me, would you?”

San knows what’s coming. Hongjoong’s had it out for him for ages, and this is finally it. He’s outlived his purpose, his presence is only backfiring, it’s time for him to go. He knew that it was coming, he should’ve known that it would be now. His death would utterly destroy (Y/n), there would be nothing for her to do except accept her fate. 

Seonghwa does as Hongjoong instructs, standing behind him to hold his arms in place. San doesn’t struggle. He has to be strong. Go bravely. That’s what he wants. 

But Hongjoong surprises him. He takes a step toward him, smoothing his own ceremonial shirt before grabbing the hem of San’s and pulling it out of his pants. 

Oh… San really hadn’t been expecting tha—

But then Hongjoong hits him. Just once. 

“We’ll see how she feels when you’re not so pretty.” Hongjoong spits, literally, onto the floor of the chapel. 

San can hardly hear him through the pain rippling over his jaw, but the message is clear enough. He doesn’t need a mirror to taste the blood, or feel it pouring down his chin. Seonghwa lets go of his arms and it takes everything in him to not double over. Instead, he looks up at Hongjoong, unintimidated. 

Hongjoong stretches his hand. “She asked for you, Seonghwa. Better go comfort her.” He glares up at him. “But not too well.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, San leaves the… sensitive details out as he recounts Hongjoong’s tantrum for you. Not a single word of Haseul is spoken to you, but the rest is mostly accurate. 

You sit in horror as San recounts these details to you, unsure how to even react. You’ve always known that Hongjoong is capable of violence, and Seonghwa, too, but to hear of them acting such violence onto San, of all people… it’s almost unthinkable. At some point in the not too distant past, Hongjoong had trusted San to watch over you at all times of the day, and now? His own paranoia has driven him to violence? 

Your thoughts wander to Seonghwa against your own better judgment. Seonghwa is his own person, he’s taking care of himself. He doesn’t want you meddling in his relationships, and he has made this more than abundantly clear. 

But how does Hongjoong treat him? It can’t be kind. You’ve seen the slights between them, seen Hongjoong deny Seonghwa of even the simplest pleasure. Behind closed doors, what do they talk about? How does Hongjoong act around him? 

Though you’re loath to admit it, you have to worry for him. If Hongjoong is violent with you, the person he considers to be one of the most important figures in his religion… that doesn’t bode well for Seonghwa. 

“San,” you bring your thoughts back to the present moment, “I’m so sorry that you went through that for me.” 

He doesn’t stop pacing, almost ignoring your sentiment all together. “Hongjoong is crazy.” 

“I’ve known that for a while now.” 

San smiles. Smiles. “I don’t think you understand the extent of it.”

You find that hard to believe, but there probably are things that San knows about Hongjoong that you don’t.

“But that’s not important for right now. I just need you to keep your distance from him as much as possible; I’ll ask Seonghwa for his help—”

“Seonghwa?” You’re astounded. “You’re going to ask Seonghwa to help us escape?” 

San shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, not looking at you. “No, but he’ll keep you away from Hongjoong. That’s basically his number one priority, anyways.” 

It makes sense. If Hongjoong is as volatile as he was with Seonghwa and San earlier, he’s a danger to be around. Even more so than usual. But getting Seonghwa’s help… “Won’t it be obvious what we’re trying to do?”

“You already avoid Hongjoong,” San says. “I don’t think it will be a drastic enough change to draw attention, as long as you’re not refusing to see Seonghwa.” 

The way with which San says this last sentence… is different. He’s not stuttering anymore, you realize. He hasn’t been for a while, now. When San is upset, his stutter is more pronounced than anything else, its absence is suddenly so jarring that you have to wonder why you didn’t realize when it stopped. 

There’s no emotion in his voice anymore. No personality, no San. 

You stare up at him, watching him walk back and forth in front of you. He’s not upset, not anymore, at least. What is this? 

“San.” You try to get his attention. “Are you alright?” 

He finally stops walking, if just for a second, to give you a good look at his face. “I’m fine,” he states. His eyes aren’t red, his breathing is perfectly even, his expression flat. “Why do you ask?” 

“You’re scaring me,” you say. “What’s going on?”

San resumes his pacing. “You should be scared, I should be scared, I should’ve been this whole time; But I’ve been so stupid and now isn’t the time for me to be some sniveling boy.”

You can’t respond to that. 

“I think I know when we can try to get out. I’m not going to fail you this time, (Y/n), I swear.”  

“San, wait, hold on,” you start, shaking your head, “what about your laptop? The phones? Can’t you just call the cops?” 

San smiles tightly, “I considered it, but there would be issues. Hongjoong has a plan, and things would not end well if law enforcement got involved and Hongjoong had more than five seconds to think before he was arrested or killed.” 

“So you’re seriously proposing that we run away, leaving everyone else here… forever… including the children?” 

“Would you rather be alive and here or dead and buried?” San blinks. “That’s what this comes down to for the rest of the group. We can find a way to get Mingi and Haseul, but it’s not feasible to save everyone knowing that Hongjoong has a plan for this exact situation.” 

Your stomach rolls over itself as he explains this. How can you just leave? How could you leave everyone behind and forget about them? How could San even suggest something so horrible?

The thought of freedom is enticing, but the weight that would remain on your conscience… It makes you sick just thinking about it now. 

Whatever. Fuck San. You’ll remedy the situation yourself once you’re out. There’s not a chance in hell you’d leave all of these innocent people to rot on this farm. 

San’s apathy is so jarring. Maybe that’s what waking up after years of brainwashing does to a person.

You don’t want to judge him when he’s so clearly doing this for you. To protect you. You can hardly complain that he’s resolved in this situation. 

… Yeah, no, it still rubs you the wrong way.

But you’ll shrug it off for now. “When can we go?” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

San explains the general idea to you, which he’ll refine in the coming weeks. 

With the beginning of the harvest starting, that puts the farm about one month out from the conclusion. Apparently, they don’t actually own that much acreage, just enough to surround the commune itself, so harvest doesn’t take very long. Throughout the month, there are various ceremonies that all culminate into one, final, grand ceremony at the end of the harvest. After this ceremony, there’s a party. 

It was about here when you realized where this was going.

The party is huge, apparently. Like, all-out, rager huge. Everyone gets drunk (apparently this is part of the ceremony) and everything gets a bit wild and confusing. San’s proposal is that the two of you make a break for it when everyone is (a) extremely inebriated and (b) distracted by the celebrations. 

It’s kind of cliche, but you have to imagine that it’ll work, especially if this party is as crazy as San explained. 

If it doesn’t work… the thought puts a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re not going to start pondering what you’ll do if you get caught for a second time. 

Really, this plan should work. San has access to the vehicles. With a car, you can be fifty miles away before anyone even realizes that you’re gone, so long as Hongjoong lets you out of his sight for even just a few minutes. 

With all of the noise and distractions, no one will hear the car starting. No one will hear you guys peeling out, the terrible crunch of the gravel under the wheels that you had heard what felt like so long ago. 

You think back to the night in the corn field. What a shitshow. You had to give it to yourself, you were very brave. And you got quite far for the amount of preparation that you had done. But that night… 

Remains one that you want to forget. But you’ll never forget the fear coursing through your veins, the feeling of your heart in your chest, your ears twitching with every sound that you heard. When Seonghwa was chasing you, when Hongjoong reduced you to a puddle at his feet. 

It was like being hunted for sport. 

You have to hold out hope that the car will make all of the difference here, which you’re sure that it can. Where you’re going to go… you aren’t sure. 

Surely, you know that you have to get law enforcement involved, but what San said is weighing on your mind… Maybe, if you fully explained the situation, you could get some sort of covert mission operating… But that would probably have its pitfalls, too. It’s hard to know what’s right, but you trust that you’ll figure it out once you’ve saved yourself. 

There’s also the option that the police will entirely write you off and think you’re just some crazy lady. Especially if San… 

No, wait, pause. San would tell the truth, right? Like, he would be your witness? He wouldn’t actually just let this keep happening once he’s out… 

God, the fact that you even have to weigh this option is exhausting. Why can’t you just trust him? You’ve had no problem with it before, so why should it be an issue now? Has San ever done anything to betray your trust? Minus him being a high-ranking cult official, but, like, that’s just part of the deal. You have to trust him, especially now.  If you can’t trust San, who can you trust? 

Your mind wanders to your apartment, your old college dorm room, your childhood bedroom. How dreamy would it be to be anywhere but here? You miss your big bed and your pantry full of snacks you actually like and your bookshelves stacked with your books. You miss sleeping alone, but hearing your neighbors through your thin walls; when you didn’t have a sanctioned bed time that everyone obeyed. 

On your nightstand at home, you have a framed picture of your friends. You try to picture their faces, all of them. Changbin, Mingi, Soojin, Haseul, Juyeon, and Jungeun. And, of course, your own face. When’s the last time you looked in the mirror? You think of your features, your hair, the color of your eyes and your smile. 

Horrifyingly, you can only picture Hongjoong’s smile. 

You stop trying to picture yourself.

Mingi comes to the forefront of your mind. Mingi. Do all roads lead back to Mingi? It feels like it. San had said that Mingi had run to you when you fainted, that he’d taken you from Hongjoong and carried you to the infirmary. You try to picture it, the feeling of Mingi’s arms wrapped around you again. Had he held you close, like a friend, or sterile, far away from his own body, the act of an EMT? Had he let your head hang upside down, over his arm, or did he support your neck like you would a baby? 

You don’t know what feels right. You only know that Mingi had held you and Mingi had cared. 

Maybe he threw you over his shoulder like he used to do when you refused to follow him somewhere. Probably unlikely. But you smile as you think about it, anyways, how he always used his height to his advantage and how he would sling you around like you weighed nothing. 

How many times did he have to carry you to the library? How many times did he carry you out of the library? What does carrying someone mean? When is it an act of love and when is it an act of control?

Haseul had been carried. Where is she, now? In a little room? Is Wooyoung talking to her, keeping her company? Has Mingi been a good companion to her? Is she being subjugated to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, yet? Are you going to have to attend her own Choosing ceremony, soon? 

Hongjoong wouldn’t trust you to just silently watch her ceremony, you know that well enough. It’ll probably just happen and you’ll be told after the fact. When its too late to warn her. The next time you see her, she’ll probably be in the infirmary, recovering from a fucking stab wound. 

Your own scar tingles. Would Hongjoong just kill her? He had made it clear that he decides who lives and who dies. He could just lethally aim the knife. And wouldn’t that be the ultimate punishment? Not knowing she’s dead until being told after the fact? Not being able to see her one last time? 

San wouldn’t let that happen. He would warn you, he would try to help her again, you’re sure of it. 

So you just have to focus on yourself, for now. Keep your head down, wait it out, and trust San. That’s really all that you can do. You can’t help Haseul while you’re stuck here, just like you can’t help Mingi, either. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You had half expected Hongjoong to give you a break for a few days, considering your encounter with… whatever that thing was, but that illusion is quickly destroyed when Seonghwa comes knocking on your door at the usual time the next day. 

San answers, quickly lowering his voice in what sounds like an attempt to plead with Seonghwa to leave you alone for the day. You sneak up behind San, making eye contact with Seonghwa as your appearance calls his attention. 

“What do you think, princess?” He sounds as pissed as he looks. You can imagine that he wants to be here just as much as you want him here.

Resting a hand on San’s shoulder, you tell him that you’re fine to go. Afterall, how else are you supposed to keep up appearances? And you need to learn more about what this month has in store for you.

San steps aside as Seonghwa offers you his hand, which you take. Strange, though, that he doesn’t take your arm as he usually would. Is this his way of…

Your last conversation echoes in your head. Seonghwa seemed genuinely concerned. And quite rattled. And he was honest with you, as much as you could expect him to be. Maybe he’s feeling bad. Or sentimental. Or protective. 

… Pft, who are you kidding? He probably didn’t even think twice about taking your hand instead of your arm.

Hand-in-hand, you walk silently to Hongjoong’s apartment.

Fuck. You can only hope that he’s not there. You could probably play off your curiosity about the month as your worry about what’s going to happen to you, but something tells you that Hongjoong is going to be looking for reasons to be cruel. Or you’re going to be in for some intense attempts at gaslighting you into believing… 

You have to resist a shudder at the memory. With enough effort, you probably could believe that that shit was real. Didn’t you have to beg Seonghwa to tell you that it wasn’t? You still don’t understand what the hell that even was or how it could’ve been faked, but you really can’t bring yourself to think of it. 

Seonghwa drops your hand to open the door, holding it open behind him to allow you to enter as well. 

Hesitantly, you glance around the apartment. 

“He’s not here,” Seonghwa says. “But he wants you here when he comes back.” 

The door shuts, and you sit at your usual spot on the couch. Seonghwa flops into his chair, facing you. 

“When will he be back?” 

He just shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. The image takes you back to a certain other night the two of you have been alone, and you have to clench your jaw to drive away the thoughts, looking anywhere else but at his body. 

“I suppose you have more questions.” Seonghwa doesn't ask you this, but tells you. 

Yeah, you have a lot of questions. The primary ones you either can't ask Seonghwa or you've asked him already, to no avail. 

You look at your nail beds, trying to be nonchalant. “Are you still jealous of San?” 

Why that's the question you decide to ask, you have no idea. 

Seonghwa scoffs. “Really?” He asks. “That's where we're going?” 

Shrugging, you try your best to resist looking at him. “I just thought it was strange that Hongjoong didn't want me to see him yesterday. I can't help but imagine that you must still be feeding him lies,” you say. “He also told me that it was you that had to physically hold him back when I fell.” Not to mention the other holding he did. 

Though you don't look at him, you can imagine his displeasure spreading across his expression. “I don't know why you insist that there's nothing between you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, minus the fact that your misadventures could only cause harm to San.” 

“Exactly,” your eyes flit up to his face, “I'd never put him in danger.” 

“Your loyalty to a man you hardly know is admirable,” Seonghwa says through a sneer. 

“I know San better than I know you.” 

You could swear his eye twitches. “Sure you do.” 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” You blink. “I have no reason to not trust San, and every reason to not trust you.” 

Seonghwa shakes his head, smiling. “I think you're forgetting your situation, Princess. San is your punishment, and you're his.” He brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “I never said you had to trust me. I think you do, anyways.”

You stay silent, knowing that he's at least partially correct. You probably do trust Seonghwa, at least more than a lot of the people here. 

“Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked for me to calm you yesterday.” 

“I asked for San, first.”

“And what would he have told you?” Seonghwa leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Not what you wanted to hear. He wouldn't have been able to assure you of anything. I did.” 

Again, you know he's right. San hadn't been able to do much to calm your nerves, despite tell you his plan for your escape. 

You lock eyes with him, planning to defend San, but your gaze betrays you. Seonghwa leans back in the chair, knowing he's got you.

“Who was in the costume?” You ask instead. 

Seonghwa deigns to look confused. “I'm not sure what you mean.” 

The frustration of the prior day comes back at full force. Why can't just one other person acknowledge the fucking insanity of this place? Why can't Seonghwa just say what he means? Why is he so insistent on agreeing with Hongjoong, no matter the cost?

“Do you ever get tired of being Hongjoong's lapdog?” 

“Lapdog?” He smiles. “Come here.”

You swallow as he gestures for you to stand in front of him, recognizing the gesture from weeks prior. “No.”

Seonghwa stands instead, stepping around the coffee table to be able to stand before you. Forced into looking up at him, you hate this upper hand he's suddenly gained through your refusal. 

He bends, using a hand to grip the sofa behind your shoulder. Face to face, he mockingly pouts. “That's what you think of me?” 

You keep your mouth shut, hoping your gaze is burning through him.

“You said it yourself,” he leans closer to you, “you hardly know me.” 

With his face so close to your own, you hardly even feel like you can breathe, like it would be encroaching on his space. You glance between his eyes, trying your damnedest to not look anywhere else. If you looked at his lips… his pretty, plump lips… 

Fortunately, or, perhaps unfortunately, the doorknob starts rattling a few feet away from the both of you, and Seonghwa quickly leans out of the compromising position. Slipping a hand in his pocket, he stares down at you once more. “This isn’t over.” 

The door opens, but neither of you turn to greet who you know will be in the doorway. You’d have to imagine it’s quite a sight to see, the both of your staring daggers at each other, unwilling to be the first to look away. 

Hongjoong isn’t pleased by your ignorance. He slams the door behind him as he enters his apartment, and Seonghwa finally relieves you of his look. 

Your eyes only move to Hongjoong when he comes to stand next to Seonghwa, his hand resting on his bicep.

“Well, well, well,” he says, “having a lively conversation? Without me?” 

Hongjoong gently turns Seonghwa so that he’s angled to sit on the couch, pushing him down until he’s sitting right next to you. Your thighs brush. Hongjoong moves back to sit on the chair Seonghwa vacated, settling himself in before speaking again. 

“Have you had time to reflect on what happened yesterday?” Hongjoong inquires, tilting his head. He’s wearing his glasses, the overhead light reflecting off of them, obscuring his irises. “If I seemed frustrated with you, I must apologize. You have to understand that it was a very scary experience, even for myself. And I forgive you for the way that you reacted, as well.”

You squint at Hongjoong. As if you had anything to be sorry for. He’s the one that got himself all mad for no reason. He should be apologizing to San. 

But you can only imagine how this conversation will go if you continue to argue with him about the validity of the… thing. And San requested you to keep a low profile. He probably wouldn’t want you bringing up his mistreatment. So you nod a couple times, hoping that he doesn’t want you to vocalize an apology. 

“You must have been in shock,” Hongjoong continues. “Which would explain your inability to accept what had happened.” 

Nodding again, you try to figure out where he’s going with this. Does he want you to start asking questions? Does he seriously, genuinely believe that you’ve lost it, now? He can’t.

So, what? He just wants you to act like you have? He must know that it would just be a ruse, so why does he want you to go along with it so badly?

Seonghwa certainly knows that you’re not fooled, and you can expect that he told Hongjoong this after you spoke to him yesterday. Who is this act for, exactly? 

“As important as you are, it makes sense that you were targeted. The Guardians, in fact, are responsible for the loss of your predecessor.” 

Okay, so, that’s a lie. Hongjoong told you as much himself. He’s really going to go back on his word, gaslight you into forgetting what he already said? He might be able to get you to forget what he told you about Haneul, but not so soon after you found out about her. 

Haneul’s memory is alive and well in your head, despite the fact that you never met her. You owe it to her to remember the facts of her life, and her death, as best as you can. It awakens a tinge of anger in you to even hear Hongjoong so blatantly disregard her truth. He told you, to your face, that he liked you more than her. So he got rid of her. Not these “guardians” or whatever the fuck he’s trying to blame for her death. 

“The Guardians,” you say, plainly. “Are… what, exactly?” 

Hongjoong leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. “Well, there’s quite an extensive explanation in The Answer, but I suppose it could be beneficial to hear about them from me.

“The Guardians, simply put, are our antagonists. They protect the Sign, keeping it in the hands of those that oppose us. When we’re close to reaching the Sign, or when the barrier is thinner than normal, such as during a ceremony, they can appear. They’re rather frightening, and they can kill or bring Followers back to their dimension.”

… You blink at Hongjoong, remembering to nod periodically through his explanation. What are you supposed to say to that? 

“So, yesterday, then, it was trying to… kill me?” You ask, sensing that Hongjoong wants something to bounce off of. 

He tsks. “I don’t suspect kill, but rather kidnap. If they know that you’ve been Chosen, they’ll continue to target you whenever the barrier is thin. Surely they know that we would go to great lengths to recover you if they were able to steal you away.” 

Hongjoong speaks with such a conviction that you can see how people are led to believe in him. If you had a weaker mindset, his crock of shit might just make sense. Or be just scary enough to make you want to believe that he could protect you. 

“But you scared it away? Yesterday?” 

Hongjoong nods gravely, closing his eyes. “They fear my presence, thankfully. Very rarely can they stand to be in the same room as me.” 

You smile, hopefully not sarcastically. “That’s very lucky for me, then.” 

“It is,” Seonghwa cuts in, surprisingly. “Hongjoong will always be with you, so you’ll always be safe.” Even more surprising than his words, Seonghwa slides his hand into resting on your mid-thigh, assuringly squeezing you. You turn toward him with wide eyes, about to question what the hell he thinks he’s doing, when his expression makes it very clear to you that you should drop the subject. 

Bizarre. Why would Seonghwa be warning you to stop talking about what Hongjoong so clearly wants you to speak about? 

So you turn back toward Hongjoong, who’s agreeing with what Seonghwa said, seemingly oblivious to his little boyfriend’s hand on your thigh. “Is there any way to protect myself, if I am alone?” You ask instead of heeding Seonghwa’s warning. 

He squeezes your thigh harder, but you ignore it. What the hell is he trying to steer you away from? If he doesn’t want you to talk about it, surely it’s something that you’re going to want to know, right? Seonghwa can’t be looking out for you, not when Hongjoong is in the room. He has his priorities in order, and Hongjoong far outweighs yourself. 

“Great question,” Hongjoong smiles approvingly. “So long as you have a Sign of the Answer on your person, you can fend them off yourself. They revere the Sign, they won’t harm someone under its protection.”

If that’s the case… you would’ve been fine, yesterday, then. As always, you had been wearing a Sign pinned to your shirt, somewhere. Though Hongjoong would probably try to argue with you that you must have been missing it, otherwise the Guardian wouldn’t have been able to attack.

But then that also raises the question. Is kidnapping someone the same as harming them? Maybe it wouldn’t have killed you, but could it still have taken you? Assuming that Hongjoong isn’t just some very creative psycho, that is. Purely for thought exercise, you have to wonder what the Sign could really protect someone from. Was yesterday an attack? Or merely an appearance?

You sense that Seonghwa is trying to warn you away from the areas that Hongjoong doesn’t have fleshed out. For all you know, yesterday is the first time that a Guardian has ever appeared in the flesh. Hongjoong might not have prepared for every possible question that you could ask. 

The questions that you’re most curious about are things that you can’t ask him. Who did he have dressed up? How did they make that stature, that outfit, that… aura? Where was the face? Were you drugged? Was everyone drugged? Did everyone see the same thing that you did, or is everyone collectively lying to you to help their leader? Seriously, where the fuck was that thing’s face? How did they do that? If it wasn’t for that gaping maw of nothingness, you’d have a much easier time writing the entire experience off as the complete joke that you logically know it must have been. You push the thought away for now. 

“I’ll be sure to always wear my pins, then.” You motion to where you have one pinned to your collar. “I have questions about the ceremonies in general, though, Hongjoong. Can I ask a few things?” 

He motions for you to proceed, and Seonghwa’s hand doesn’t tighten its hold on you, so you do. “Will there be more sacrifices?” 

Hongjoong nods. “There’s a sacrifice for each ceremony.”

“What is the sacrifice for? To what deity?” 

A hint of exasperation crosses his face as Seonghwa slides his hand a little higher. “I’ve explained this. Sacrifices are sent to different universes as aid for our clones. There’s no God in particular the sacrifice is for, except for me.” 

“So they can even use animals, in the other universes? The situation is so dire?” 

Seonghwa pinches you instead of squeezing. Hongjoong’s exasperation melts into wry acceptance. “Yes, it is. Have you ever gone months without eating meat?” 

… Yeah, probably. But you’re not going to press him harder on the subject. “I was just curious, I didn’t mean to question you. How many more ceremonies will there be this month?”

Seonghwa’s hand doesn’t move, and it’s right about now that you’re starting to feel a little bit insane because of it. Why would he put his hand on your thigh, of all places? Why does it keep migrating upward? Why don’t you just say something to stop him? Or use your own hand to move his away? Why is the warmth of his palm seeping through your jeans so quickly? Why hasn’t Hongjoong said something yet?

“There will be one ceremony each weekend.” He says, calmer, now. “But you won’t have to participate in all of them. The most important ceremonies, the first and the last, are different and thus require the Bearer’s presence.” 

Well, that takes a bit of the pressure off, at least. Knowing that you don’t have to personally participate in every ceremony, though, no doubt, you’ll have to be present at each of them, makes you feel just a tad bit better. You have to imagine that Haseul’s Choosing ceremony will be soon… 

“Hongjoong, did I do good yesterday?” You ask, trying to feign your most innocent look. “Can I see Haseul, soon?” 

He gives you a small smile, but his answer doesn’t match it at all. “No. You made me quite mad, yesterday.”

The response is actually slightly shocking. You knew you had made him upset, but for him to vocalize it to you? To deny you seeing Haseul because of some bullshit that he orchestrated himself? 

“But—”

“No buts about it,” Hongjoong says. “You’ll be able to see Haseul once you’re behaving on a consistent basis.” 

“Won’t she have a Choosing ceremony?” You blurt, hoping that you weren’t the one to put the idea in his head. Maybe he had been planning on just keeping her locked up and not actually indoctrinating her. Had you even considered that? 

Hongjoong sighs. “I haven’t decided. Is she worthy of one?” 

What the hell does he mean ‘worthy?’ He’s seriously not going to jump at the chance to bring her in? If he wanted to, he could just kill her then and there; wouldn’t that be his dream? To end her life in front of you? Wouldn’t that just tickle his fancy? You don’t understand. 

Unless he’s taking a certain pity on her, which you highly doubt.

He must see your confusion painted plainly on your face, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. “It’s no matter. You’ll see her when you deserve to. Seonghwa,” —he abruptly changes the topic and his tone— “where exactly is your hand going?” 

Seonghwa’s hand flies off of you, landing promptly back into his own lap.

“That’s what I thought.” Hongjoong tuts. “Do we need to discuss the lines that must not be crossed, again?” 

You shake your head. You do not need the sex talk again from Hongjoong. God. And it's not like you were feeling him up. 

“Seonghwa, you look particularly guilty. Do you need to tell me something?”

You suspect that, if Seonghwa looks or feels guilty of something, it's not the hand on your thigh. It's the warning you to stray away from topics that could upset Hongjoong. 

But, glancing over at him, you’re surprised to see how red his face has gotten. Do you really get him going so easily? You could almost laugh, if not for the circumstances. Surely he's not so embarrassed just to have been seen with a hand on your leg. Its not like Hongjoong walked in on his hand down your pants or anything. And hadn’t he been all up in your face before Hongjoong arrived? Where’d that confident asshole go? 

Hongjoong’s presence makes all the difference, you suppose. Hopefully he's able to play off this little episode as embarrassment about touching you. If Hongjoong realizes what he was doing, he'd probably get in trouble. 

Which is still perplexing. Why had Seonghwa done that? Since when does he want to protect you? The way he's been acting, yesterday and today, just doesn't… align with the picture you have in your head. 

Seonghwa looks literally anywhere else than at you or Hongjoong, shaking his head as well. 

Slowly, he uses his hands to slide himself farther down the couch from you. Hongjoong chuckles from your opposite side, bringing you back into the reality that you temporarily abandoned. 

“That’s pathetic, Seonghwa, really.” 

Seonghwa simply looks back toward the coffee table, his face pink. Hongjoong is so harsh.

“Anyways,” Hongjoong calls your attention back towards him, “anything you want to tell me, (Y/n)? How’s San?”

This obsession with your relationship with San is infinitely annoying. What makes them think that you’re ever going to admit to what they suspect of you? 

“San is perfectly fine.” 

Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches. “Oh? I only ask because he was rather… upset, yesterday, is all.”

“Wasn’t everyone a little upset?”

“Not so personally.” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know how many different ways I can tell you that you made us live together, so it’s only natural that we care about each other.” 

“Well,” is Hongjoong’s entire response. 

The room falls into a rather uncomfortable silence. 

You look back at Seonghwa, but he’s just looking at his hands, folded in his lap, now. 

Hongjoong looks at his nail beds. 

“Are we done, then?” You ask. 

“You don’t have any more questions?” Hongjoong responds with a question, not looking up at you. 

You rack your mind for anything else. Sure, there are plenty of questions, just not ones that he would be happy to answer.

“I guess not.” 

Hongjoong looks up, flicking his eyes between you and Seonghwa. “Shall I escort you back to your apartment?” 

You look back at Seonghwa, who’s now looking between you and Hongjoong. 

“I don’t have a preference,” you say, even though you definitely do. 

“I can take her,” Seonghwa springs up, offering you his hand. 

Taking it, you also stand. “I actually have one more question, Hongjoong.”

He has to look up at you for once. He simply waits for your question while you gaze down at him.

“Is the sacrifice always an animal?”

He smiles. “More or less.”

Great. Wonderful. Perfect. You absolutely hate that response. More or less? Thats the most non-answer answer that he could've given you. And it definitely means that its not always an animal. Which makes you wonder when… and who… 

Stunned into silence, you say nothing. Neither does Seonghwa.

“Hurry back.” Hongjoong requests, dismissing the two of you without another word. 

Once you’re outside of Hongjoong’s apartment, you debate teasing Seonghwa, but decide against it. Though it would be quite fun, the poor guy is probably going to get it from Hongjoong already, no need to add to his torment. Plus, he was just trying to help you. 

He walks you in silence, again, hand-in-hand, back to your apartment. 

No sooner than you’re saying goodbye and shutting the door behind you does San appear in the entryway, grabbing for you. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?” He frantically asks, looking you up and down and all around, his hands flying around your limbs to check for injuries.

Stunned, you stay still. “I’m fine?” 

San sighs in relief, guiding you back toward the couch, sitting and pulling you onto his lap. “I was so worried they’d somehow found out. That you’d be hurt.” 

You shuffle around so that your back can rest against the armrest of the sofa, your legs still resting over his.

“They absolutely cannot find out, no matter what,” San says. “Can you tell me what you talked about?” 

So you explain the conversations for him, using a free hand to card through his hair as you do. He seems to relax after you’ve elaborated, though you leave out the part about Seonghwa and his hand. 

Part of you wonders if you should feel guilty about messing with Seonghwa. Not for his sake, but for San’s. What even is going on between the two of you? You probably shouldn’t be flirting with the enemy anyways, but San probably wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear about the things that have happened between yourself and Seonghwa. The fact that you leave it out when recounting the meeting must prove that you know that it’s wrong. 

“Come here,” you open your arms to him. 

He slips out from under you, realigning himself so that he can rest his head on your chest. “We’ll get out of here, together.” He wraps his arms around your waist.

You do the same, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. There’s nothing you can do but agree with him. The two of you will escape together, and soon. After that, you can forget all about this place. 

… Yeah, in your dreams. The real horror might start after you’re gone. You have to believe that San is telling the truth about Hongjoong. Revealing the cult to the authorities will only end in horror if you’re not careful. 

And you find it hard to believe that you’ll be okay once you’re gone. You’ve considered it before, the way that this sort of trauma affects someone. How long will you have to recover? Will you be able to go back to your old life? 

Will San be part of it? 

You squeeze him tighter and he reciprocates. 

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[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role - THE INTRO (C.S; S.MG)

Summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

Warnings: only cursing for now

WC: 1.2k

A/N: listen, i wrote this like four months ago and i’ll post it now but the information of when the actual first chapter will be posted is between me and God. enjoy!

Taglist: @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwaist @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke​

act i​

“Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.”

- Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home

Dear San,

I hope you know how much I hate you.

You probably never expected to receive a letter like this, just as I never expected to actually send it but anything can happen. I've learned that one too many times for my own good.

And the guy at the airport didn't charge me for the stamps so I decided to make use of his attempts at flirting to save the little cash I have in my wallet.

You're probably wondering why did I decide to open this up with such a harsh greeting. We were once, in fact, friends with benefits. Only we went short on the 'friends' part and fully indulged in the 'benefits' but that's all in the past. It's the now, and now, I'll try to explain.

Ever since the night I met you at that party in my freshman year of college, you have been the root of all my problems.  

San, do you know that two years have exactly seven hundred and thirty days in them?

Well, I have spent seven hundred and thirty long, excruciating days wanting you. I have felt the foolish need to impress you in every single way for those seven hundred and thirty days even when you were taken. Which, in retrospect, is kind of fucked up but my moral compass is always pointing in the wrong direction when you're involved so I'll forgive myself for that.

I have made myself seem smaller and tried to fit in with your shitty group of friends that thought I was too stupid to understand the silent jabs they threw at me every chance they could get. I have dragged myself around filthy mechanic shops, gross bedrooms of your frat house, absolutely disgusting public toilets of bars and clubs that I would only step into over my dead body. I have put up with your insults over my music taste and the movies I like. But above all, I have put up with you thinking I was a vapid, dumb bimbo that was only looking after her credit card.

I did all of that for seven hundred and thirty days and while I did it on my own terms, I did it all for you.

So, imagine my surprise and almost blinding rage to, halfway through those seven hundred and thirty days, see you fall in love with some basic, painfully average goody-two-shoes that had a weird superiority complex because she didn't know the difference between foundation and primer.

Son Boyoung.

God, even her name makes you want to doze off.

But this isn't about her. If you're really in love with her and the two of you get back together then I hope you enjoy the time you spend being emotionally unavailable with her as well, having lots of mediocre, vanilla sex and worrying about her parents not liking you because trust me, that will happen.

This is about me and you.

Before I start, you weren't the bad guy here. You were just the ignorant, prideful one.

I, on the other hand, had very little pride to begin with so... just want to make that clear. You're not the only one at fault. And I'm not blaming you for any of it, well...at least not all of it.

Let me just state that while you were the only guy I have ever been in love with, you were also one of the worst mistakes out of many.

But this isn't a revenge letter. More so, an explanation letter and maybe even a 'thank you' letter if you look at it from the right angle.

If it wasn't for you ditching me two days before my Computer Science midterm when you promised to help me out, Kim Hongjoong would've never found me in the corner of the library that afternoon and I never would've gotten to know him as well as I did.

If I hadn't met Kim Hongjoong, he would've never introduced me to Professor Ahn who was the one who helped me out the most with my degree and in the end, was the one who helped me decide just what kind of artist I wanted to be. She helped me find myself.

If I wasn't stumbling on the top floor of your frat house looking for you, I never would've caught Wooyoung in the compromising position that I did and it never would've led to the blackmailing situation between the two of us which never would've ended with me finding my first true friend.

And it wasn't a blackmailing situation per say, but in Wooyoung's head that's what it looked like at the time. He's a bit dramatic.

If it wasn't for you being so lovey-dovey with your girlfriend right in front of my face, I never would've kissed Song Mingi in that closet. I definitely don't regret that, even with everything that happened afterwards.

If it wasn't for the conversation I've overheard between you and your friends, I would've never lost the last bit of my permanent sanity and I definitely never would've lost my shit in front of my parents like that. Do you know just how much trauma has to be thrown in the faces of parents who care more about family image than anything for it to result in getting kicked out of their house?

If you kissed me the last night we had sex, I never would've called in to confirm the one-way ticket to Paris. So thank you for not kissing me.

During the last seven hundred and thirty days, I admit that there were times where I wondered why did all of this have to happen to me out of all unlucky souls.

Why did my brother suddenly hate me for following my dream. Why did my parents have to choose my partners for me and why was everything with them treated as a transaction. Why did my mother have to be so obsessed with the way I look. Why was nothing I do ever considered enough. Why did I think of broken mechanisms when I looked into the mirror. Why was I instantly the villain just because I liked pink and was a little sharp on the tongue to a girl who thought she was better than me because she listened to underground, indie bands that seemingly no one else cares about. And, above all, why did I have to fall in love with a boy who I knew would never love me back.

Need I go on? I should, I have a lot to say honestly. That's what keeping shit bottled up for so long does to a person.

And you're probably thinking 'aw, poor little rich girl, what does she know about real life problems' like you always do and you might be right. In the grand scheme of things, my parents not loving me and people finding me annoying is quite literally nothing.

But I was always a little bit self-centered and maybe I sometimes wished the world revolved around me a bit more. Which means that my problems are very much valid and honestly, I'm tired of people like you brushing them off.

While I'm writing this at the airport (we came almost two hours early because I have a fear that we will miss our flight) Wooyoung is telling me to hurry. We don't have much time left.

But I guess that's how my story starts, and just like every other, it starts with you. And that's how you like it best, isn't it?

Thank you.

-Y/N

P.S. If you're planning on showing this letter to your buddies so you can laugh it up, go ahead- because I'm well past the point of giving a fuck. But if you do, make sure to pass a message from me to Yeosang.

The message goes:

Fuck you.

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role - ACT V (C.S; S.MG)

title; you make me feel like i’m losin’ my virginity, the first time, every time when you’re touching me

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader (for now lol)

warnings: smut!!, mentions of dieting

wc: almost 14k

taglist:   @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwaist @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke  @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny @kpopnightingale @xosim @raineadlr @ilikepalta @m4rsluv @gojocatt @smimingi @bubbleteakittyy  @mingkiyoo @theactresstarringinurbadreams  @mangishii @cryingaboutskz @y2ksturniolo   @layzfeelit  

buy me a coffee!

act iv / masterlist / act vi

A/N: smut is in italics for this part, there are a couple of more smut scenes but they’re really brief with as little descriptions as possible so i didn’t place a warning for those!

"It's more like every electron in every atom in the universe paused, breathed in deeply, assessed the situation, and then reversed its course, spinning backward, or the other way, which was the right way all along. And afterward, the universe was exactly the same, but infinitely more right."

-Lydia Netzer, How to Tell Toledo from the Night Sky

"We should, uh," He stutters out, breath raggedy, "continue having those lessons."

"We should go for a coff- Oh, hey Mingi!" Hongjoong interrupts his sentence as he spots the newcomer that pulls out a chair next to him and places his backpack in front of the spot on the table.

"Y/N, as I was saying, we should go for a coffee after this. I have a study group at eight and I'm gonna need some caffeine to-"

But you're not listening to a single word leaving Hongjoong's lips as your attention is completely devoted to Song Mingi unpacking his things in the seat opposite of you without a care in the world. You haven't seen him since Saturday.

That Saturday.

Mingi stumbles out of the closet, dragging you out after him with his lips not leaving yours once. You're touching and grabbing, hands tugging on hair, teeth clashing and gasps leaving both of you.

You don't even notice that you're moving until your back is pressed against the door of his bedroom as he grips your jaw, licking into your mouth as you pull him closer with a desperate groan. There's that familiar feeling pulsing through you, the need to have him as close as possible without any barriers between the two of you and you subtly grind down on his thigh that was wedged between your legs.

The sound of a lock turning makes you disconnect from him and you turn your head to the side, where his hand rested on the lock of the door right by your hip. Mingi breathes heavily.

"Is that okay?" He whispers nose brushing yours, probably wanting to know how far you plan on taking this tonight.

You just pull his mouth back on yours and hope he gets his answer from that which he does, as he starts guiding you to the bed and with a couple of adjustments- you're in his lap.

"Hellooooo? Y/N?" Hongjoong's voice drags you out of the memories and your head snaps to him with wide eyes.

"Y-yeah!" You respond, internally cringing at how high pitched your voice had gotten. "Sounds good."

Hongjoong gives you a weird look before shaking his head and going back to his books. Your eyes subconsciously dart to Mingi and a zapping feeling runs through you when your gazes meet.

Mingi's face is otherwise blank but his eyes dance with mirth and you swear that the corner of his lips lift up for a split second before he licks them and goes back to opening his laptop and organizing his notes.

You shift in your seat, feeling a little too hot as you try to focus on the textbook in front of you with pursued lips.

"Wanna try to make a simple program by yourself today?" If there wasn't the silence that followed after Mingi's question, you wouldn't have guessed it was aimed at you with just how high up in the clouds you were.

"Wanna take this off?" He murmurs the question as his fingers run over the buttons of your cropped cardigan and end up playing with the top one, his fingers brushing over the skin of your chest in the process. Mingi's eyes are observing your face, waiting for an answer but you're already too lost to form a coherent thought.

"Uh-huh." You nod like a dumbass and his lips quirk up slightly as his lips connect with yours again and fingers nimbly start to undo each button until the cardigan is slipping down your shoulders and leaving you in your bra.

Mingi's lips part from yours and a gasp leaves you shortly afterwards as his lips start kissing down your neck and his hands grasp your hips tighter at that as you start rubbing against him. He is hard underneath you.

A small groan of his own erupts from his chest and he flips the both of you, so you're laying on the bed with him between your legs.

He swiftly connects your lips again. Both of your lips are puffy and red by now but you don't care. You like that Mingi seems to like kissing you. His warm hands trail down your body again until they reach your boots and he sits up, hands fiddling with the zipper on one of them before he pulls the shoes off. He repeats it on your other leg as well.

"Cute." He mutters with a small smirk, thumb rubbing the inside of your ankle where your socks had Hello Kitty on them. Your cheeks burn a deeper red, you would say something snippy to him but you're just too far gone and only thing you can think about is him and what he could do to you.

His hands gloss over your body again. Up your legs and gripping your hips before he glances at you with dark eyes. You let out an impatient puff of air.

Mingi pulls at the collar of his sweater and tugs it off of himself in one swift move, throwing it to the chair by his desk. Your eyes drunkenly soak up his naked chest. Broad shoulders, slim waist and thick thighs still covered in jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight of his toned torso.

His warm hands glide up your thighs and disappear under your miniskirt, latching onto the elastic band of your panties.

"Let's take these off as well." He whispers, small grin rising on his plump lips as he starts slowly dragging the flimsy material down your legs.

"Y/N?" Mingi's voice snaps your head up and you're faced with both Mingi and Hongjoong staring at you.

"Oh, uh...Sorry, w-what did you say?" You stutter out, swallowing as you blink repeatedly to get your thoughts in check.

Hongjoong looks positively weirded out now, looking at you with a scrunched up face. Mingi, on the other hand, seems to be able to read your mind and looks like he's trying to hold back a smirk which makes sweat collect at the back of your neck as a shaky breath escapes you.

"I asked if you wanted to try to make a program by yourself today. It will be one of your tasks at the exam." He elaborates easily, eyes dancing over your features in amusement and it makes you press your lips in annoyance. Not at him, but at yourself. Why were you acting like a school girl that just lost her virginity to this guy?

"Okay." You nod simply, reaching for your laptop and setting it up in front of yourself. Hongjoong returns to his own work and so does Mingi.

As you wait for it to turn on, you glance at Mingi again. His eyes are trained on his laptop, lower lip tucked between his teeth and a pen dangling off of his fingers. Thoughts of his fingers on your lips flood your mind. What is wrong with you? You can't possibly be this horny.

Suddenly, his fingers tap against his notebook two times and your eyes snap to his.

He's looking back at you with a grin that he can't seem to hide now and your cheeks flush red but you don't break the eye contact. It was a bit of a public fact now that, when it comes to men who know how to make you come, you have very little shame.

Mingi coughs, covering up the smile on his lips with his hand before clearing his throat and handing you a paper. Hongjoong is cluelessly highlighting something in his textbook.

"Here, try this one." Mingi says lowly, gesturing to the paper where the task was printed out and you only nod in response, hiding your face behind your laptop.

You start typing across the keyboard but soon enough, your fingers slow down and you find yourself mindlessly staring into the open program, images of last Saturday plaguing your mind and you try your hardest not to look up towards Mingi again.

"Mingi-..." Hongjoong continues talking to Mingi and the more he speaks, the deeper you get lost into your head.

"Mingi." You gasp out, fisting the sheets on his bed in your hands as a means of stopping yourself from being too loud.

Mingi's response is only a chuckle which vibrates through your body as he indulges in the heat between your legs as he pleases.

Your skirt is hiked up to your waist and his hands are wrapped around your thighs to hold them spread out in their place as his mouth explores your cunt until tears are brimming the corners of your eyes.

It's slow and sensual and there's a strange level of intimacy to it that makes giddiness dance up and down your body as your hand reaches down and brushes through his hair.

It was only a couple of days ago that you were cursing Mingi out in your head and now his face was buried between your legs as he gave you what felt like the best head you've gotten in awhile.

Who would've thought.

"Oh, fuck..." You whimper out, still cautious about the volume of your voice despite Mingi's words of reassurance. 'They're all drunk and downstairs by now. You can be louder.'

But you can't bring yourself to completely rely on them so instead, you bite your bottom lip and try to muffle the moans as he suckles on your clit before dragging his hot tongue over it in a motion that makes your legs shake.

It's dizzying. And hot. You can't be bothered to think about anything outside of what was happening in the space of these four walls.

At a particular twirl of Mingi's tongue, your back arches and mouth drops open as another moan escapes and you think, yeah, you won't regret this at all.

"Fuck, you're hot." Mingi mutters against you before his tongue dips inside of you and is slowly dragged back to your clit and it makes your legs shake around his head, he notices and soothes his palm over your thigh.

"I'm gonna-...Gonna come if y-you don't stop..." You brokenly whisper out and Mingi glances up to you. Fuck, he looks good between your legs.

"That's the goal." He whispers and you only moan in response as brings his tongue down onto you again.

How is Song Mingi so good at eating pussy?!

You had almost hoped that he would suck, just so when it's all over you can go back to being mean to him. But you don't think that's going to be possible because, of course, he has to be a god between the sheets in every way imaginable. You can't remember when was the last time you felt this good.

San gave you everything and so much more but for a limited time period. The sex was mind-blowing but only for the first couple of weeks, after that it felt like the pussy magic wore off or something because he gave you mediocre orgasms with half-hearted oral- with the exception of the times he would fuck up and try to get in your good graces again.

But Mingi eats you out to the point where it seems like he's getting off to your moans and to your very taste.

He works his tongue and lips against you, trying to amplify your pleasure and make you feel as good as possible. It works, and you're sent flying into an earth-shattering orgasm that makes your toes curl and your back arc off of the bed as a high pitched moan leaves you.

It feels like liquid fire is eating you up from the inside out, and your orgasm lasts a lifetime. Mingi doesn't falter for one second, diligently dragging out your pleasure with his tongue, even as you quiver and thrash under his grip.

It takes another long moment for your orgasm to run its course, then you abruptly collapse onto the mattress with a deep groan, drenched in sweat and feeling utterly boneless. Only then does Mingi finally let up on his ministrations.

"Fuck, that was so hot." He mutters as he sloppily licks the come from his lips.

"You-..." Your words trail off as you try to catch your breath and wait for the rapid beating of your heart to slow down.

"-all red in the face. Are you feeling sick?" Your head snaps to Hongjoong, meeting his concerned gaze and it's only then that you feel the hotness of your cheeks.

"Huh?"

"What is going on with you today? You're redder than a fire hydrant." Hongjoong comments with a frown and your cool hands reach up to cover your flaming cheeks as you shake your head. You make the cardinal mistake of glancing in Mingi's direction, just to see his gaze trained on the laptop screen but his lips pulled in a small, annoying smirk.

"Nothing." You respond, fanning your face. "Just remembered something my professor told me, so now I'm stressed out over it."

"Seriously, you need to quit worrying." Hongjoong, the ever so sweet and kind friend, continues and you don't have the heart to stop him. Especially, when he's blowing compliments up your ass. "You're too good of an artist, you won't even need all the theory behind it. I, on the other hand, should go to the third floor and cry my eyes out before this study group today."

"Joong, stop." You whine softly and don't notice the way his eyes soften at the use of the nickname. "Let's not talk about school stuff for the day."

"I agree!" He quips, "Let's talk about last Saturday!"

You stiffen at that, casting a glance towards Mingi who doesn't take his gaze away from his laptop and pretends like neither you nor Hongjoong are speaking. Did Mingi tell Hongjoong what happened? You both specifically agreed to not tell anyone-

"What about last Saturday?" You carefully ask, straightening out in your seat. A habit of yours when you're feeling nervous.

"I must've passed out in the pantry under the staircase the moment the hide and seek game began. Minho made those sangrias way too strong." Hongjoong laughs without a care in the world but from the corner of your eye, you see Mingi glance at him with a guarded expression, "Did you enjoy the party? I hope my friends weren't too much, they can be annoying when they get drunk."

Oh, you enjoyed the party alright.

"Says you." Mingi snorts, lips curled up but not taking his attention away from his work. "You were drunk before she even got there."

Warmth pools in your belly again.

"It was awhile since we had a hang-out. I needed to blow off some steam!" Hongjoong defends himself and both you and Mingi chuckle.

"I had fun." You say with a small smile, trying to seem relaxed as possible.

Your eyes dart towards Mingi for a split second and a shiver runs up your spine when you find him already looking at you. His eyes aren't as hollow as they usually are when he speaks to you, they have a glint of playfulness now. Hongjoong clears his throat and your eyes snap towards him immediately.

"Did I do anything stupid? I can't remember shit!"

"You didn't do anything stupid, Joong." It's Mingi who reassures him, probably because he noticed you were sweating bullets.

You were usually an expert of a liar, but recently, it's almost as if you were trying to be a good and honest person or something so it was getting a little bit too difficult to spew lies from the top of your head.

So here you were, blushing and sweating over a measly lie, like an amateur. How humiliating.

"Oh, good." Hongjoong nods before opening his mouth again, "So when did the party end?"

"At midnight."

"Around three."

You and Mingi lock eyes across the table as a moment of silence ensues. You almost glare at him.

"I mean, I went home around midnight because I told my parents I wouldn't be home late. We had a brunch scheduled for the next day and I couldn’t show up looking hungover." You quickly fix your previous answer and hope the mention of the brunch would steer him in a different direction so you could stop talking about the party.

Hongjoong cocks his head to the side in thought, his books long forgotten by his side.

"Really? I swear the sound of a car going down the driveway woke me up for a second and that was at like...almost dawn. I thought it was yours since you're the only one who drove." He says and your mouth runs dry as you gulp. Mingi shuffles in his seat.

"It must've been a dream. You were pretty drunk and I left hours before dawn." You let out an awkward giggle and Hongjoong doesn't seem to buy it because even Mingi is starting to get a little restless in the seat next to him.

He glances between the two of you.

"Nothing weird happened, right?" Hongjoong questions warily to the both of you.

Your eyes lock with Mingi's.

The thing that surprises you the most with Song Mingi is that you didn't expect the sex to be like this.

And yeah, Mingi is a decent guy from what you've gathered but that doesn't really mean that he's good in bed. He's still a college boy.

You expected him to be quick with it. You expected it to be rushed and clumsy, dirty and empty.

But as always, Song Mingi has a tendency to prove you wrong.

"Oh." You sigh out as his lips cascade down the skin of your neck while his hands fiddle with the clasp of your bra. His naked torso is flush against yours as his fingers brush your back and it all makes you feel warm and so safe that you could melt.

The moment the clasp comes undone, the flimsy piece of fabric is thrown to the floor.

You don't waste any time, you sit up and your hands immediately reaching for the button of his dark jeans. Mingi's lips brush against your temple, one hand still around your body as he reaches to the nightstand for a condom.

"Give me." You whisper, taking the foil from him and ripping it with your teeth while he rids himself of his jeans and underwear.

God, he's so fucking thick. You don't even hide the fact that you eye him up and you swear, you see a faint blush coat his cheeks.

Mingi hisses a little bit as you roll the condom onto him and you mindlessly kiss up his chest while you make sure it's placed properly.

"Lay back." He whispers against your lips, nose brushing yours and you lower yourself back to his sheets and spread your legs apart. Your skirt is still on but he doesn't seem to mind, in fact you think he likes it a little too much.

Now, you expected him to just ram into you a couple of times until he comes with absolutely no rhythm to it whatsoever- you expect that from all college boys.

San excluded because San is San. His expertise is fucking.

Mingi is an IT major that's in love with his best friend, excuse you for not expecting much from him.

But no, Mingi is smooth with it.

Dragging his hands up the back of your thighs before placing them over his own thick thighs and then easing himself into you with a sigh that makes you throw your head back as he stretches you out. There's a pleasant burn that makes you let out a soft moan and you allow your arms to fall above your head as you grip the pillow situated under your head.

"Fuck." He bites his lip, one hand resting on your hip as the other grips the belt of your skirt tightly and uses it to guide you onto his dick.

"That's so good." You murmur brokenly, jaw dropping a little as he brushes against your sensitive spot and a hitched moan leaves you.

"There?" Mingi mutters and you can only nod in response, pulling him by the nape of his neck down to you and pressing his lips to yours.

You whine while his tongue brushes yours and his hips start to pick up speed until he's grasping you tightly as your hips meet.

The room is filled with muffled groans and moans, lewd noises from bodies being connected together and the occasional creak of his bed.

Mingi pants against your neck, one hand absentmindedly cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as you arch against him in pure bliss. You stopped caring about how loud you were halfway through and let the moans fall unabashedly as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

At a particularly hard thrust, you clench around him without even meaning to and he groans lowly, giving you a slight albeit playful glare.

"Y/N," He pants, "Don't do that."

You grin because you somehow live to piss him off and repeat the action, only this time it's with full intent. Mingi let's out a choked groan again, the hand that was on your cheek reaching back to grab at your hair.

"Always such a brat." He mutters, snapping his hips against yours and it makes you moan, eyes fluttering shut. "Can you be a good girl for me?"

And somehow, the question makes you melt. It makes you melt so much that you almost sink into the mattress below you, feeling like everything is about to swallow you whole and of course, none of that goes unnoticed by Mingi.

"Oh?" He whispers, lips fluttering over your jawline and your eyes are closed but you can feel him smile against your skin. "You like that?"

"S-shut up." You stutter out, nails digging into his skin at the fluid movements of his hips against yours. Mingi only hums against you, still placing butterfly kisses over your skin.

"You like being called a good girl, huh?" And he's just fucking with you now, you know that. But his words and the playfulness he delivers them with as he continues to kiss up the side of your neck makes you a gooey puddle in his arms. You can only moan and whine in response.

"Faster. Pl-please." You whine as your legs go high up his waist and he quickly listens to your pleads, picking up pace as he observes your face with his lips parted and heavy breaths.

"Like this?" He pants, the smacks echo through his bedroom and you moan loudly, toes curling.

"Yes! Yes, don't s-stop!" You almost sob as you pull him closer to you.

Your orgasm is close. The build up is there and you're about to burst at any given moment as Mingi continues with his tempo, brushing against your sensitive spot as his face falls in the crook of your neck.

You moans get higher with each thrust as you grow closer and closer to your release and Mingi's own groans are muffled but they're there.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks with a hoarse voice against your skin and you moan loudly in response.

The build up drags on and it snaps inside of you like a rubber band and you're tumbling off of the cliff into complete and utter bliss as you arch your back with the loudest moan yet leaving your open lips, toes curling and orgasm washing over you until you're shaking in Mingi's arms.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Y/N." He grunts out as the pace of his hips grows erratic and you whine in sensitivity.

It takes him a couple more thrusts before he's filling up the condom with a low moan, fingers gripping tightly at your hips as his own stutter against you while he rides out his high and you both fall to the sheets, utterly exhausted.

"We should, uh," He stutters out, breath raggedy, "continue having those lessons."

"No."

"Nope."

Hongjoong's head keeps going back and forth as he stares at you both suspiciously before rolling his eyes.

"Fine. I'll say I believe you even though I know what my eyes saw which was you two being weird as fuck right now." He dramatically points to both of you and you only give a half hearted shake of your head in response.

"Nothing weird happened. The party was fun, thanks for inviting me." You say with a small but sincere smile and Hongjoong groans, turning to Mingi who looks at him in question with brows raised.

"See, that's how she gets you." He complains like you're not sitting right in front of him, your jaw drops a little. "Can't even be a bitch to her when she acts sweet."

You roll your eyes and Mingi gives him a small laugh.

"I'm going to the bathroom and then we can go get that coffee, Y/N." He looks between you and Mingi again with a joking glare, "Not like you two are doing anything productive, Mingi has been scrolling through his assignment sheets for the past five minutes."

Mingi turns to tell him off but Hongjoong is already out of his seat and walking away.

You massage your lips together to keep the smile from forming until Mingi's eyes set on you once you're all alone.

"You have nothing to laugh about." He scolds quietly, blush overtaking his cheeks. "You know for someone who was very strict on keeping this between us, you are extremely bad at hiding it."

"Hey!" You whine, pout etching on your lips, "I got nervous."

Mingi hums in response, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he stares at you.

"You could've just stayed the night." Mingi says as he shudders in the cold, the hoodie he threw on himself before leaving his room doing very little at protecting him from the winter air.

"So Hongjoong can find me naked in his best friend's bed in the morning." You scoff with a small grin as you lean against your car, "No way."

"Well, I mean, you wouldn't have to be naked." Mingi shrugs with a small grin and you roll your eyes, pushing at his chest a little but it doesn't stop him from wrapping his arms around your waist.

It was weird. All the tension between Mingi and you seemed to have dissipated just by having sex with him. At least you think it did, it might just be the post-sex daze that both of you were still in. It was probably that because why in the hell would the two of you be this touchy otherwise?

"I have a thing with my family in the morning so I have to be up early." You explain quietly, you don't know why but the thought of him wanting you to stay made you feel all soft and mushy inside so you felt the need to elaborate why you were leaving.

You didn't owe Song Mingi anything after having sex once but it was a nice change that he wanted you to stay.

He nods and then his face turns serious, a little bit shy and...nervous.

"Hey, so, uh..." He starts and you cock your head to the side, eyes glossing over his face in curiosity. "About what I said the other day. About the math thing."

Your face immediately falls at that before you can even hide it. Mingi's hands tighten around your waist.

"I'm sorry." He blurts out and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. "I googled it after you left. You have a fucking Wikipedia page, Y/N."

He chuckles in what looks like disbelief at the fact that, yes, you do have a Wikipedia page, shaking his head a little, "I'm sorry for saying all of that. I was being an asshole. And...it's an amazing accomplishment."

"It's fine." You chuckle awkwardly, not expecting the apology whatsoever since you were mostly used to it by now.

"Still..."

"It's fine." You say a bit firmer the second time, a smile settling on your lips.

You both stare at each other, smiles slowly slipping and your fingers tighten around the soft material of his hoodie before you pull him towards you again, slotting his lips against yours.

Mingi grunts, cold hand reaching up and cupping the back of your neck as he presses you against the car door. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip and you part your lips so you can taste him, hands getting lost in his messy hair as you moan against him a little.

"My car has a really spacious back seat." You breathe out once your lips part.

"Fuck off." He laughs, squeezing at your waist. He heaves a sigh before a curse leaves his lips and he smashes his mouth against yours again.

It's hot and wanton but you can't get enough of each other and he has to push you away as he takes a step back because otherwise- you really would've ended up in the backseat of your car.

"We can't tell anyone about this." You whisper against his lips, moaning as he kisses you again, hand travelling to your backside.

"That's probably a good idea." He agrees.

The staring contest is cut off by Hongjoong's return from the bathroom.

"Y/n, come on, let's go." He says pulling his jacket on and packs his stuff. "I'm craving a bitter coffee and a muffin."

"I'll be ready in, like, a minute." You respond, quickly starting to pack your staff as he says he'll wait for you outside.

You slowly pull on your coat, watching Hongjoong leave through the door before turning to Mingi.

"Come to my place tomorrow." You say quietly with a coy smile before getting up and leaving, giving him no chance to respond.

You'll be honest right now. When it comes to Song Mingi, you sincerely have no idea what the fuck you are doing. Let alone why you want to do it again.

But you do. You want a repeat of last Saturday so bad to the point that you sit daydreaming about it during a particularly boring class until your underwear is soaked that it's borderline embarrassing.

You think of his big hands, fingers adorned by silver rings, on your naked skin. You think of his lips on yours. You think of the way his hair feels brushing against your thigh. You think of him buried deep inside of you. You think of his deep voice muttering in your ear. You think of him.

Song Mingi has you dickmatized.

That's why when he comes over the next day, you almost jump on him at your front door.

"Wow, your house is- oof!" Mingi's words are cut off as you pull him inside by the collar of his jacket and slam the door shut behind him before pressing his body into the wall with all the weight of your body and pressing your lips against his in a feverish kiss that makes you whine because you had no idea that you needed to kiss him this badly.

"Wow." He mumbles before quickly kissing you again, hands groping your ass through your sweatpants as yours roam over his firm chest.

"Let's go." You pant, pulling on his hand to lead him up the stairs.

"Aren't your parents home?" He asks with comically wide eyes as he follows after you and you shake your head.

"They're in Japan with my brother for the weekend. I sent the staff home as well."

"Where are we going?" Mingi questions, ogling the paintings hung up on the stairwell wall.

"To my bedroom." You slow down once you notice him staring at the paintings, "I'll give you a tour later, come on!"

You stumble into your bedroom and you quickly throw yourself on him, lips glued together as you lead him to the bed and drag him on top of you. You enjoy feeling the weight of his body on you a little bit too much.

"Y/N, slow down." Mingi laughs against your lips but kisses you nonetheless and you whine again, hips already working against his.

"I can't." You whine pathetically, kissing him messily as your nails scratch against the fabric of his sweatshirt on his back.

"Okay, okay." He whispers comfortingly with a small smile and you don't even care about your red cheeks because he kisses you again and reaches down with one hand between your bodies to undo the button of his jeans.

And honest-to-God, you think the second time he fucks you is even better than the first time. Maybe it was because you spent the majority of the week imagining it but he just knows where to touch, knows how to get you going and what words to say to have you crying out underneath him.

"Such a good girl for me."

Yeah, that ones a favorite.

But then, after you both come, something weird happens.

Weird as in Mingi doesn't pull his clothes on and scramble for the door at the first opportunity. In fact, you two almost cuddle. But not really, because you're not that comfortable with each other just yet. But you do kiss though and lay next to each other on your bed, naked skin touching, as you mumble around stupid things.

It's nice though. You don't get it. Why does everything with Song Mingi seem so romantic?

It's probably because you're so touch starved that the slightest hint of affection turns you soft and putty at the palm of his hand.

Once you get up to pull your sweater back on since you were starting to get a little bit chilly, Mingi speaks.

"Oh...should I...go?" You turn to him, face scrunched up and with a feeling of an even bigger cold washing over you at the thought of him leaving.

"No." You quickly respond before grimacing, "I mean, if you want to. I'm not holding you hostage or anything but...I'd like for you to...I mean, we can have dinner or something."

Mingi seems in thought for a second, brows pinched in a way that almost makes him seem...cute? He nods, a second later.

"Okay. That sounds cool."

"Cool. Do you want something to drink? I was going to make myself some tea." You explain, pulling your sweatpants up your legs as you do.

"Tea sounds good."

"Okay." You chuckle at how awkward he sounds before leaving for downstairs.

You try to collect yourself once you reach downstairs, trying not to allow yourself to get too soft with Mingi because you genuinely don't know what the two of you are doing right now?

You're not dating.

But you're having sex. Will the sex be a regular thing? You sure hope so.

Are you in another friends with benefits situation?

Were you even friends with Mingi?

The answer is that you don't know and you're too scared to ask.

You have a nasty habit of always diving into things head first with very little thinking just like you did with San, art school and cocaine. All those things ended with hurt, tears and hate- so really, what's one more thing on that list.

You want Song Mingi, so you'll have him until either one of you decides to hurt each other, resulting in a tragic end and then, you'll just move on.

You climb up the stairs and walk into your bedroom, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of tea on it. Mingi is standing by your work desk.

He's dressed back in his clothes and the bed is made.

He's also staring at your infamous notebook where you keep your drawings.

"Oh, that's-" You start and he turns at the sound of your voice, notebook still in his hand.

"These are really cool." Mingi says with a small smile, you flush once you catch a hint of awe in his voice.

You clear your throat, walking over to him and placing the tray on your desk.

"That's just something I do for fun." You ramble nervously, "It's not my actual work. Those are my-" You point to the canvases stacked up in the corner of your room, "-actual works. Those drawings are kinda stupid-"

"I like them." He interrupts, not taking his eyes away from the colorful pages and you flush an even deeper red.

"Oh...thanks." You mutter before clearing your throat awkwardly, "Here's your tea."

Mingi murmurs a soft 'thanks' as he sits back on your bed with the notebook still in hand and you sigh, feeling a slight shiver.

"Oh, shit. I should turn on the heater." And you walk to your closet and start pulling out your space heater from it. Which catches Mingi's attention.

He looks at you like you're crazy. "You use...that?"

And you guess you could understand, the heater is an old model and definitely looks untrustworthy but it does it's job.

"Yeah." You say as you roll it to the corner of your room and plug it in, adjusting the settings.

"You have a thermostat in your room." Mingi says dryly, pointing to the small white box right by your door. "It's literally right there."

"I don't use that when I'm alone." You shake your head and let out a small, satisfied sigh once the heater starts working.

"Why?"

"I don't like messing with all the buttons and shit. I might burn the house down."

"You do know that thing is, like, fifty times more dangerous, right?" Mingi asks, looking confused.

"I..." You look up, "Don't care. Technology scares me, I like using this when I'm alone otherwise Seonghwa or Mrs. Choi has to come and adjust the thermostat."

When you walk over to grab your mug of tea, you catch Mingi looking at you, extremely amused.

"What?" You ask defensively, leaning against your desk with the mug in hand.

"Nothing." He shakes his head, letting out a chuckle, "You just seem very...human and normal right now."

"Human and normal?" You scrunch your face up, voice going higher in pitch.

Suddenly, you remember you're not wearing any make-up and on instinct, your hand flies to your face to try and cover up as you completely forget that Mingi has been here for the past hour. He has seen you without make-up, he has fucked you without make-up.

"I mean in a good way." He sings, thinking you got insulted ( and maybe you did...a little). "It's nice."

"I'm always like this." You argue back with a huff.

"Eh, not really." Mingi comments, blowing into his mug to cool it down. Your jaw drops a little as he just innocently takes a sip, not even looking at you.

"What do you mean?!" You demand for him to explain. He stops to think for a second, eyeing you up and down.

"Okay, well. First of all, you're very hot-" He began.

"Oh." You giggle like a fucking school girl, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and feeling your ego burst through the roof (not that it needed to go any higher).

Mingi groans.

"See, here you go." He complains, throwing his hand in the air but still not being able to hold the smirk off of his face.

"What? I didn't say anything!" You defend yourself but a laugh escapes you, knowing very well what he meant.

"Be serious." He scolds, "You know you're gorgeous, okay? Get over yourself."

"Okay, okay." You nod, fighting back a smile as another blush climbs your cheeks.

"What I mean is, that you seem perfect. Your outfits and your hair and make-up, your car. Like, the first time I saw you, your notebooks matched your fuckin' outfit. Your...your binders were all color coordinated, they match your laptop and your pencil case and your pens. Even your earphones. It's crazy." He lists off with an exasperated expression on his face, "No college student should be that organized. And you...you can be really fuckin' mean as well. You're a lot scarier than you think, you know?"

You snort. "I'm really not."

"Well, now you're not. You're scared of a fucking thermostat." He grumbles, blowing on his tea again.

"Ugh, whatever." You brush it off, not wanting to think about his words. "Do you want to eat right now or later?"

Mingi slows down the action of placing the mug on your nightstand.

"Uh, I'm not really hungry right now." He responds and his eyes do that thing where they grow a bit wider and make him look impossibly soft that it makes you want to throw up.

"Okay, later then." You nod, then look around your room, not really knowing what the two of you should do right now.

"You wanna work on my Computer Science assignment?" You ask lamely and Mingi chortles.

"Sure."

That's how both of you find yourselves laying on your bed. You're on your stomach with your laptop propped up in front of you as Mingi is laying next to you, flipping through the pages of your notebook.

It's...nice. Really nice.

He helps you when you need help and then returns to analyzing your drawings and you don't even feel uncomfortable that he's looking at them anymore since he seems to like them so much.

But him just being there makes you feel lighter. Usually, when your parents and brother would leave for work trips...your father and brother's work trip- your mother just goes with them to flaunt around Tokyo, you would grow sad because you're all alone far too much. Now, Mingi is here and he makes you feel warm.

"Ouch." He comments and you glance at what he's looking at in your notebook. It's Miss Prudy.

You guess that the comment was about the needle going through her heart.

"Oh, that's Miss Prudy." You say absentmindedly, typing away on your laptop.

"She has a name?!" Mingi asked incredulously.

"Of course, they all do."

"What?! No way!" He gasps and you laugh a little at his open mouth as he stares at the drawing. "What does she do?"

"Stops me from being a slut."

His head whips towards you but you don't even skip a beat, just continue copying the commands.

"What do you mean?" Mingi croaks out and you snort as his ears turn red before dropping the pencil in your hand and looking at the drawing of Miss Prudy a little bit closer.

"Well, I drew her when I did something...bad." Fucked your cousin's boyfriend but Mingi doesn't need to know that. "And I guess...I remember her when I'm about to get tangled up with the next wrong guy."

"Wrong guy?" He asks with his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah, she doesn't like any of them." You pursue her lips, staring at the hem of her long skirt.

"What...w-what about me?"

"What about you?"

"Does she like me?" Mingi questions and your eyes travel from the page towards his wide eyes. You held back a smirk.

Did Miss Prudy like Mingi?

Of course I bloody don't, you idiot! He's in love with the girl you absolutely humiliated in front of an entire cafeteria and you're sleeping with him right now. You come-guzzling, shameless who-

"No." You respond honestly and Mingi almost seems offended that a fictional character that resides in your head doesn't like him.

"Okay, well..." He hurriedly flips through the page and you sigh, pressing 'save' on your document and lowering your laptop to the floor before getting comfortable on the bed next to him since you have a feeling that he'll want to know about every single drawing. "What about this one?"

It's the drawing of the girls with mechanisms for eyes and bent out of shape nails for a smile. You swallow dryly.

"She doesn't have a name. But she lives in mirrors." You say quietly, grabbing a cushion and placing it in your lap. "She lives off of compliments and everyone else's opinions of her. I need to get her a name."

Mingi is quiet for a second, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "This ones my favorite."

You smile shallowly at him but he's already looking away, flipping through the notebook.

"But...does every drawing have a story? Like, you don't draw them just for the sake of drawing them?" His curiosity is evident and it's partly endearing but partly overbearing.

"Uh, it's hard to explain..." You rub your eye tiredly, wondering how you're supposed to explain what goes on in your head to him. "It's characters that I...Sometimes I feel like there's a TV show happening but inside of my head, right?" He nods, "And those are the characters in the show, the scenery that surrounds them and stuff...I don't know."

Mingi hums in understanding and you're thankful that he's not calling you crazy. He's not trying to crack dumbass jokes about you needing a therapist because honestly, you've heard it all before and you wouldn't be hurt or anything. If he does think that, he doesn't show it.

Who knows, maybe he'll have lunch with Boyoung tomorrow and tell her all about how fucking insane you are.

But in this moment, with you, he seems accepting and even more intrigued.

"This one?" You glance at the paper.

The drawing of the man with sky blue hair that reaches his shoulders and mustache to match greets you. It's just a drawing of his face but you know that he's dressed like he lived in the 70s with a colorful button up shirt and patterned flare pants.

He has stars shimmering in his blue hair and Jupiter tucked between a couple of strands. His eyelashes are covered in stardust and his lips could numb you.

"Jesus Christ of Wonderland." Mingi reads your messy handwriting in the corner of the paper.

"I should change his name." You cringe with a small giggle. "I drew him a long time ago."

"So what's his story?"

"He gives people bliss for a dangerous price. Like, he makes them feel really good, head empty, thoughts washed away and instead, can make them feel like they're floating and invincible but only temporarily and then in return; he brings sadness, anger, disappointment, fear...lots of other bad things- to the people they love most."

Mingi frowns at that.

"Would anyone really accept anything from him when it's like that?" He cocks his head to the side, lips folded in a confused pout.

You shrug, still staring at the drawing. "Depends on how bad they wanna forget."

Without another word, Mingi starts flipping through the notebook again and you lean your head against the pillow watching the familiar pages that got filled up over the time. You forgot half of the drawings by now.

"Oh, this one." He stops across a drawing that goes across both pages. "It's incredible but...I don't get it."

"She dies." You point to the small figure of a girl who's face is unrecognizable.

The sky is yellow and has clouds in the shape of goldfishes. The trees are alive, there is life pulsating through their bark and the lake is green and blooming with daisies that tempt you to swim through them. The sun is breathing in a pretty shade of purple and on top of a hot pink hill there is a house filled with people.

"The hurricane kills her?" Mingi asks, pointing to the hurricane in the corner of the paper. You nod.

"Yeah."

"What about them?" He points to the house filled with people who cheer as the girl stands alone just a few feet in front of the daisy lake. "Does it kill them as well?"

"Of course not." You frown, defensively, "They're way too important."

Mingi's fingers slip from the paper as he turns to you with an unreadable expression. He looks a little sad.

"The girl isn't important?"

"It's just a drawing, Mingi." You chuckle, hugging the pillow closer to your chest.

"I didn't say anything." Mingi counters slowly and you roll your eyes and take it upon yourself to flip the page.

He moves your fingers away from the paper and starts moving the pages by himself until he stops at one. One from about half a year ago.

"What's this one?" Mingi asks quietly and your pillow slowly slips from your grasp as you stare at it.

It's a drawing of a boy with a carefree smile that skips from one orange hill to the other. Always so close yet so far because the moment you're an inch away from grasping his hand, he disappears with his soft laughs echoing around you and he materializes on the next hill in front of you.

And no matter how many times he disappears into thin air, you always run down the hill you're on and up the next one just in hopes that you'll get to hold his hand one day. Over and over again.

"That's San." You say quietly, sitting up and reaching for your laptop and notebooks that you left on the floor. Mingi is staring at you, you can feel it. He wants to ask what's the meaning of the drawing, you can feel that too.

"Unreachable." Is all you say as you open your laptop again.

Mingi gathers from your suddenly fallen mood that you don't want to talk about the notebook or the drawings anymore, so he carefully shuts it and places it on your nightstand before he takes your laptop from your lap.

"Let's do your assignment."

Days pass by, the weather grows even colder as you November reaches it's end and December kicks off and you and Mingi still continue seeing each other.

Even after your assignment is turned in and you pass the subject with a strong A, you continue to see each other for study sessions in the library. Hongjoong included, of course. It's the coolest study group ever, he says.

But he doesn't know that you and Mingi play footsie under the oak tables while he's busy flipping through his thick books. Hongjoong doesn't know that every weekend he goes home to visit his parents, Mingi sneaks you into his room and fucks you into the mattress until you're so loud that his other two roommates start complaining. Hongjoong definitely doesn't know that Mingi has seen the inside of your room more times just this month than anyone else outside your family members has in years.

You don't know what you're doing and sometimes you wonder if Mingi knows either.

You wonder if he ever thinks about Boyoung and the way she might feel about all of this. You wonder if he's still in love with her.

At certain times when he's with you- stripping you out of your clothes or just watching a movie on your laptop, you can hear his phone buzz but he just turns it off and you know it's her because you notice the guilt on his face.

The good side of you wants to break...whatever this is, off with him so you can relieve him of that guilt that you know he's carrying inside.

But the rotten part of you is selfish enough to indulge in the fact that he's choosing you over her, the rotten part of you wonders how far he will actually go before he either owns up to it and tells her or breaks it off with you completely.

For now though, having him to yourself is enough.

You moan as Mingi's lips move against yours lazily, both blissed out after the sex and bodies still tangled up with each other as you run a hand through his dark hair while his fingers brush your cheek.

The buzzing of your phone interrupts you and he groans as you move from under him and reach for the phone on your nightstand, reading the text message you got.

Wooyo: I'll be there in half an hour <3

"Fuck!" You hiss, pushing Mingi off of you completely and he falls to the other side of the bed with a surprised grunt as you jump up from the bed and run to pull your underwear back on.

You completely forgot that you told Wooyoung you would be meeting him for lunch today.

After your panties are pulled on, you rush to the bathroom to fix your make-up which smudged underneath your eyes.

"Do you have a boyfriend I should be aware of?" Mingi's voice calls out from your bed and you peek your head out of the bathroom to see your phone in his hand, he waves it in his hand with an awkward smile.

"Wooyoung says there's traffic." He reads off of the screen and you sigh in relief, knowing you would have more time to look put together.

"It's my friend!" You call loudly from the bathroom as you brush through your tangled hair, "I'm supposed to meet him for lunch today but obviously, I forgot."

"Oh." Is quietly heard.

You walk out of the bathroom and pull your bra on before going to stand with your back to Mingi's spot on the bed. "Can you please get the hooks?"

"Sure." He says, carefully pulling the clasps of the bra together. You turn to him.

"Do you wanna come to lunch?" You ask genuinely, "Wooyoung is cool, you'll get along with him."

"Uh, I don't know..." Mingi responds as he starts pulling his clothes back on. "I mean...I could eat."

"Great!" You happily exclaim, tugging your nylons on before pulling the same outfit you wore to classes today which was just a pretty, woolen high waisted midi pencil skirt and a sweater on top and your boots.

When Mingi is all dressed and looking at himself in your mirror, he turns to you again. "I don't think I should go."

"What? Why not?" You frown as you clasp your watch around your wrist.

"Do I look okay?" He asks with a small pout and you eye him up and down with a confused gaze. He's in a sweatshirt and jeans. And looks hot.

You like the way Mingi dresses. His hoodies and sweatshirts seem comfortable and soft, plus he always smells nice and it feels good when he has his arms wrapped around you.

"You look fine."

"Yeah but like...do I look fine as in good enough?" Mingi plays with your fingers and you stop what you were doing to look at him properly.

"Good enough?"

"Yeah, like, I don't wanna embarrass you or something." He mumbles and your face softens so quickly as warmth engulfs you inside out.

"Mingi, you could never embarrass me." And it's the honest-to-God truth, Mingi is handsome, smart and funny. He's a great guy. "And you look great, don't even worry about it." You assure him as honestly as possible. "You think Wooyoung is some rich prick or something?"

You mull over your own words.

"Well, he kind of is but the good kind of rich prick. Just trust me."

After a moment of what seems to be contemplating, Mingi nods and you give him a smile, pulling on your coat.

"You look nice." He compliments quietly, lips quirking up and you hate that your cheeks heat up a little.

"Thanks. Now let's go."

"How come your parents are never home?" Mingi asks as you both start descending down the stairs and you sigh.

"At the end of every year, they have to make sure everything is good in the japanese branch of the company, so my dad and brother are there up until almost Christmas- sometimes even then. Mom just likes going for the sake of going, I guess." You explain as you lock up the front door behind the both of you and you stand in your driveway, waiting for Wooyoung.

"That's kinda lonely, isn't it? For you, I mean." Mingi wonders and you smile before quickly recollecting yourself. Damn him for being so cute.

"It's okay, I'm used to it." You shrug, wrapping the coat tighter around yourself.

"Are you sure I look okay?" Mingi asks one last time and you groan, opening your mouth to scold him but you're cut off by the roar of an engine pulling up in your driveway. You turn to Mingi again.

"Seriously, you look hot and you're worrying too much! Wooyoung is about to step out of the car dressed like a middle schooler!"

"I hear you talking shit about me even from here, you know!" Wooyoung calls, head only poking outside the window of his car and you and Mingi both make your way over to him.

"Oh, and who are you?" Wooyoung asks, ever the charmer. Mingi opens his mouth.

"Can you be normal?" You scold him as you get in and Mingi gets in the back seat. "This is my friend Mingi, he helped me with my Computer Science assignment. I was telling you about it, remember?"

Wooyoung turns to eye Mingi up and down and Mingi, who is taller than Wooyoung by a whole head, looks ready to shit bricks for some reason.

"Oh and he was in your house with hair that suspiciously looks like sex hair and hickeys covering his neck, why?" Wooyoung lists without missing a beat and you take a deep breath, feeling your blood pressure rise immediately.

"Jesus Christ." You hear Mingi mutter from the backseat, fixing his hair the best he could and you almost feel bad for the poor guy.

"None of your business." You throw back at Wooyoung. "Can you drive? We're starving over here."

"Hey, I don't mean anything bad by it, Mingi." Wooyoung reassures, eyes connecting with Mingi's in the car mirror as he starts driving down the road. "If you're the reason she's been in a better mood these past couple of weeks then lunch is on me today. Thank you for giving her a couple of orgasms, Lord knows she needed them."

"Oh my God." You whisper out and you can faintly hear Mingi choke in the background, you turn to Wooyoung, "I'm going to kill you."

And there was Mingi, thinking he was going to embarrass you. Completely clueless that nothing can cause more embarrassment than Jung Wooyoung.

But the lunch ends up being fine. It's fun even.

Mingi slowly relaxes and warms up to Wooyoung because he's Wooyoung- he simply has that effect on people and his laughter and loud personality are infectious.

You enjoy the food, talk about classes, parties and whatnot. Wooyoung is carefully avoiding asking anything about your relationship with Mingi and you know why.

He plans on ambushing you when you're both alone.

"Mingi, you want me to drop you off somewhere?" Wooyoung asks as he starts driving out of the restaurants parking lot.

"That would be great actually. I live two blocks away from campus." Mingi explains and Wooyoung nods in response, adding the address to his GPS.

You're satisfied and happy, with a full belly and cool head, leaning back in your seat and completely tuning out their conversation.

Wooyoung drops Mingi off at his house and Mingi says goodbye with his pinky wrapping around yours briefly through the space between your seat and the car door.

"I like him." Wooyoung announces into the silence as he starts driving away from Mingi's house.

You only hum in response, not knowing what to say exactly.

"Are you dating him?"

"No." You chuckle as if the idea of you and Mingi dating was completely out of the question. "We're just...I don't even know. Having fun, I guess?"

"Ah," Wooyoung nods, before giving a half-hearted shrug, "Well, he's nice honestly."

"Yeah, he's cool." You agree.

Five days after that lunch, you see San in the library.

You come to pick up some books that Professor Ahn suggest you look through the last time you've seen her. You've been meeting her every two or so weeks and it's not anything special if you were honest, but it's nice to be able to talk about your art with someone.

You walk through the Art History section, skimming through the shelves filled with books when a figure sitting by one of the tables near the big windows catches your eye.

It's San. Always, the beautiful Choi San.

He's in a black sweater and his dark hair falls over his forehead, eyes fixated on the notes in front of him as he writes something down. He's studying.

You haven't seen him in awhile, weirdly you don't miss him when you don't see him. But in moments like these, you're reminded of what you once had and it leaves you feeling somewhat hollow.

He's still dating Boyoung, you know that much at least.

You jump a little when his eyes meet yours and you quickly take the book you came for before turning around and walking away.

It's embarrassing to be the one to care more.

As if that's not enough, on the same day, as you're walking out of the library and heading to your car- you spot Mingi and Boyoung.

They're walking together, laughing loudly with steaming drinks in their hands. You don't know if you're hurt but you're definitely not happy about it.

You don't care if she had Mingi first, you want him all to yourself now. She already has San.

Still, you're not crazy. No matter how intrusive your thoughts may be at times, you're not dating Mingi. Boyoung is his best friend and you need to be normal.

You are normal.

You might be a lot of things but you respect other people's friendships.

But...is it just a friendship to Mingi? Is it really? Or are the rumors true? About him being in love with her.

You already decided for yourself that they are because it's better to be let down in the beginning, then you can only go up from there.

Still, you knew how dramatic you could be and you were genuinely curious if the rumors were true. You try to read Mingi's body language, try to figure out if he looks at her in any way that might indicate he has feelings that go any deeper than true friendship but you can't tell.

You get in your car pretending you didn't see either of them and head to Professor Ahn's house.

When Mingi texts you that night, asking if you wanted to come over- you say you're busy.

The spunk only lasts for two days though because on the third one, you pick up Mingi from his house and fuck him in your car in an empty parking lot.

Mingi leaves for his hometown three days before Christmas, so does Hongjoong. You won't see them until almost the middle of January and it dampens your mood. Over time, they've became somewhat constants in your life and you enjoy spending time with them.

Still, you like Christmas.

Your family acts like a proper family for once.

You decorate the tree and the house together with the staff. You eat baked goodies that your mother would normally not even allow in the house. Even your father is home for once.

Your mother makes all of you wear ugly Christmas sweaters and you take photos in the big living room, so she can send them to her cousins and friends to brag about her perfect family and life.

Seonghwa stands next to you, hand placed over your shoulder and your parents sit down on the chairs in front of you two. The nicely decorated Christmas tree is in the background and you all shine bright smiles towards the camera as your mother instructs which pose you should do next.

Your phone buzzes.

Mingi: It's very....

Mingi: It's pretty!!!! Very red

You snort at his response to the mirror selfie you sent of your ugly sweater.

"Is San that funny?" Seonghwa mutters as you both stand against the wall as your mother arranges photos with the staff and you clench your jaw, glancing at him quickly.

"It's not San." You respond quietly, placing your phone in the back pocket of your skirt.

"Then who is it?"

This is what annoyed you most with Seonghwa.

He ignores you on most occasions, isn't very nice for a very long time now but he's still so fucking nosy and wants to know what's going on in your life.

Usually, you would be happy and gladly talk to him about Mingi, Hongjoong and just about anything really, despite the fact that he's an asshole towards you.

But these days, you're growing too tired of it. Too tired of running after him to make things right between the two of you despite how badly you want things to go back to how they once were.

The past is ruined. You can't go back to it, so was there really a point in trying anymore?

"None of your business." You mutter back, without looking at him and he scoffs in response before walking away to sit on the couch.

Then after you brush him off, of course you feel bad about it because you think that every chance he gives you to talk to him is a step closer to fixing things and yet, you've been stuck at the starting point for almost two years now. It's exhausting.

You don't let any of it ruin your mood. You always enjoyed Christmas ever since you were little, ugly sweaters and all.

Maybe you just wish you spent it with different people though. Because after the family photos and the big lunch your family throws every Christmas where you have to mingle with people you don't know very well- you all retrieve to your separate rooms and you're engulfed by loneliness once again.

Your New Year's kiss ends up being Wooyoung.

A sloppy, drunken kiss that ends with snorts and laughter because it happened solely for the reason that you both thought walking into the New Year without kissing someone is for losers.

It's a good party though, the usual rich kids shit but you have Wooyoung and you spend most of the night dancing around and getting drunk with him.

Neither of you care that everyone thinks you're dating.

Winter break is gloomy, cold and also, spent mostly with Wooyoung.

You don't know how neither one of you got bored from each other just yet. You're constantly at his apartment, eating food that Wooyoung sometimes cooks and sometimes you just order in. You watch those Hallmark Christmas movies that are definitely bad but still have something addicting to them.

You paint some more. One of your professors told you he sent your painting for one of the competitions being held in the spring. It's cool, you suppose.

You only visit Professor Ahn once, bearing a bottle of red wine as a Christmas gift. She's alone, all the time.

Mingi surprises you with a text one Wednesday afternoon.

Mingi: I came back earlier so I have the house to myself

Mingi: Come over

Mingi: And stay the night?

So you come up with an excuse that you'll be sleeping over at Wooyoung's place that night and of course, your mother is delighted. Everything goes as long as it's with Wooyoung.

"Hey." You greet once Mingi opens the door, dressed in a thick hoodie with the hood pulled over his head so his eyes are barely peeking from under it.

He gives you a toothy grin and something tingles inside of you.

"Hey, come in." He holds the door wider open as you step in and you take off your shoes before you both awkwardly stare at each other for a second.

You think if you should hug him. You want to because you missed him but you're not sure if Mingi wants to hug you or anything. Are you there in your relationship with him yet where you hug when you don't see each other for awhile?

Mingi lets out an awkward chuckle and you pull the sleeves of your thick sweater over your hands.

"Sorry, it's cold. I turned on the heating like an hour ago but it takes awhile since the place was empty for the month." He explains as you follow him to the kitchen.

There are plastic containers and tuperware on the counter that you look at with curiosity.

"What's all this?" You say, glancing at all the food. Mingi gives an embarrassed laugh, starting to place the containers in the fridge.

"It's food my mom sent me." He chuckles and you think it's endearing how his cheeks flush pink. "She sent too much."

"That's nice of her." You muse, watching him as he diligently places the food on the shelf in the fridge with a little sticker that says 'Mingi's food'. "You won't have to cook for awhile."

"Yeah, she's always worried that I'll starve or something." He chuckles, before turning to you to defend himself with his eyes endearingly widened, "I know how to cook! But I'm kind of lazy."

You giggle and nod in understanding, sitting by the counter and wait for him to be done with putting everything away.

Once the counter is cleared up, you both move to his bedroom with mugs of tea and snacks in your hands.

His room is a lot warmer than the rest of the house but you both still get underneath the sheets as he sets up his laptop for a movie.

Interstellar is one of Mingi's favorite movies, you've never seen it before until he suggested it one night after you had sex. It's a good movie, so you don't mind when he puts it on again.

"How was your break?" You ask as you try to get yourself comfortable against the headboard.

"It was fine. Hung out with my friends a little bit, saw my family and that's it really. Yours?" He turns to you, eyeing the way you squirm and shift the blanket around yourself.

"It was alright. Spent most of it with Wooyoung and painting." He nods at your response and suddenly pulls you into his side. Your lips part as he moves his arm around your smaller frame, so you're almost laying on his chest.

"You move too much." Is all he mumbles and you don't respond, thinking it's better to just focus on the movie.

Halfway through the movie though, his lips somehow end up on yours and the movie is long forgotten as he climbs on top of you and licks into your mouth while his hands drag your skirt down your legs.

"You need to wear thicker clothes." Mingi mumbles against your neck, "It's too cold for skirts."

"I go everywhere..." You pant as he suckles on your sweet spot, "with my c-car anyways."

"Still." He mutters, before crashing his lips into yours again and you moan.

Somewhere between deep groans and sighs, naked skin on skin, him thrusting into you and your broken cries, Mingi whispers; I missed you.

After that night, you're left confused.

You feel something for Song Mingi. But you just can't put a finger on what is it exactly nor will it ever lead somewhere.

You see him a couple of times a week and sometimes, you don't even have sex with him. Sometimes, it's just hanging out. Grabbing a cup of coffee or getting lunch together before class. You're confused.

It doesn't help that Wooyoung keeps mentioning him.

"What about Mingi?"

You turn to Wooyoung with your brows furrowed, mouth full of noodles as you ask carefully, "What about him?"

"Maybe you should try it with him." Wooyoung shrugs, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth.

You were on the topic of relationships as you both watched the newest episode of How To Get Away With Murder. And the discussion about guys suddenly led to Mingi being mentioned.

"I...I don't know." You mumble, tapping your manicured nails against the side of your bowl of food. "I mean...I like him. I wouldn't be having sex with him if I didn't like him."

"But?" Wooyoung drags on with curious eyes, waiting for you to elaborate.

"But I'm confused because...because it doesn't feel like it did with San." You admit, eyes casting downwards. Wooyoung looks at you, munching away.

"Of course, it doesn't, Y/N. Geez, you've been hooking up with San for a whole year and you were, like, obsessed with him!" He exclaims and you wince at the use of the word 'obsessed'. Wooyoung sighs loudly and you pout.

"Listen, Mingi and San are two different people."

"Yeah, but what if I'm not over San? Then what?" You ask, "Am I supposed to start something with Mingi even then?"

"Yes!" He says loudly and you roll your eyes. "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else! You've already done that and don't you feel better?"

You pursue your lips.

"See! All I'm saying is that you should just go with the flow." He continues, "Stop overthinking it. You like Mingi, you like spending time with him, no?"

You nod.

"Then ask him out on a date." Wooyoung suggests, "Just have fun. Not every relationship has to be something serious, you know? You can date for a couple of months and then, I don't know, if it's not working then it's not working!"

"What I'm saying is that you need to break out of this spunk you're in. I know you're a little hopeless romantic. You love that shit!" He accuses you with a finger pointed at you, "So ask him out, go do something cute together for fuck's sake!"

You think about it for a moment.

Maybe there is some truth in Wooyoung's words.

You've always been lead by your emotions and emotions...they're fickle little things. Unreliable and uncertain. They change like the weather and what you feel today, you might not feel tomorrow.

And a date does sound nice. You don't remember the last time you've ever been on one. It was before college definitely.

"You think Mingi would go on a date with me?" You in a small voice and Wooyoung turns his attention from the screen back to you, looking at you like you're stupid.

"Of course he would, what are you on?" He scoffs.

"But what about...what about Boyoung? She's his best friend."

He rolls his eyes at that.

"Mingi has been fucking you for over two months now. He crossed several lines already, I doubt a little date would do more damage than it's already been done." Wooyoung shakes his head, "Just think about it."

You nod in response, with a thoughtful expression as you both change the subject.

The new semester begins and your whatever-it-is with Song Mingi continues just like before, you don't bring up the date around him.

You grow even closer. You're friends now, you're sure of it. You text each other randomly, share stupid videos and funny photos.

You also have sex. And it's still amazing.

"I'm hungry." You grumble from Mingi's bed where you sat, propped up against his headboard with your notebook in your lap as you were drawing while he sat behind his desk, typing away on his laptop.

The hang-outs in his room when Hongjoong was out of the house became even more frequent. Especially since the first time you slept over.

Mingi looks up, his headphones falling around his neck as he gives you an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I got carried away with this bullshit." He points to his assignment and you brush it off saying you didn't mind. "I don't think I have any food here but we could go down to the convenience store. It's just down the street."

"Okay." You nod, already moving to stand up from the bed.

Your trip to the convenience store feels like a trip to Ikea for an average adult. It's like Disneyland.

In reality, it's nothing special. Just a small store at the corner of the street with snacks, noodles and other unhealthy foods that most college students live off of.

Not you though. The last time you were in a convenience store was when you were on a field trip in middle school.

"Woah." You whisper with wide eyes that glaze over the variety of ramen, kimbaps, sandwiches and everything else.

You watch Mingi pick out two cups of ramen silently as you tuck your hands and your wallet in the pockets of your thick coat.

"What are you going to get?" You ask Mingi like a child, as you follow him around the store.

He turns to you, smile growing on his lips as if he was endeared or something.

"Ramen with sausages probably. You?"

You look around the shelves, cluelessly. "I don't know."

He hums in thought, lips pouting as he looks around the snacks as well. "Do you like corndogs?"

"I've never tried them." Your respond, staring at the deserts, unbeknown to Mingi's bewildered face.

"Never?!" He exclaims and you shake your head, cheeks heating up. It's not like you didn't want to but you had lunches prepared for you since you were in kindergarten and it's not like you need anything from convenience stores otherwise.

"Well, we need to get you the full college student experience then." Mingi nods and immediately starts throwing different snacks and foods into the basket on his arm and you just follow after him until the basket is full with a variety of foods.

"Oh, this!" You tug on his arm as you pull out two blueberry flavored jelly drinks from the freezer. Mingi chuckles and just nods for you to place it in the basket.

When you reach the register, you pull out your wallet to pay put Mingi gently pushes your hand away.

"I got it." He says, giving his credit card to the teenage girl working there.

"There's a lot of stuff here." You say pointing to the big bag filled with food and snacks. Mingi chuckles.

"Y/N, trust me. If there's anything I can afford, it's this. Don't worry about it." You open your mouth to argue but he just shushes you, reaching for the bag.

It's night time even though it's little past six p.m. and you can't wait for spring to come so the day can last longer. You both walk side by side up to his house, bumping against each other occasionally.

After Mingi prepares the food, which is really just microwaving it and pouring boiling water into the cups of ramen, you both sit side by side on the counter and start eating.

And you fear that you might grow addicted to convenience store food after that.

You make a soft exclamation sound as you bite into the corndog and see a string of cheese stretching. Mingi laughs as he watches you eat.

That's all you've been doing since you started eating, making sounds of satisfaction at each snack you tried.

"If I knew this would make you that happy, I would've taken you convenience store shopping a long time ago." Mingi chuckles, handing you a napkin. "I eat there all the time."

"The last time I've been in one was when I was in middle school maybe." You respond as you chew, eyes closed as the cheese melts on your tongue.

"You don't ever eat this at home? You know, a lazy meal or something?" He asks still in complete surprise.

"I eat raw vegetables and fruits for lazy meals." You respond, almost inhaling the ramen.

"Why?" He asks as if disgusted by the idea. You shrug.

"My mom is really strict. I've been on a diet since I was, like, fourteen." You say without much thought, not finding anything wrong with your words until you see that Mingi has stopped eating and is now looking at you.

You turn to him.

"Sorry, don't know why I said that." You chuckle humorlessly, feeling stupid for revealing something like that and possibly bringing the carefree mood down. You didn't say it for any pity points, either. "Just forget it."

"No, its..." Mingi starts but quickly drops it with a headshake. "You don't have to apologize."

"So..." You quickly change the subject and hop on something you've been meaning to ask him recently. "There's a rumor about you going around campus. About you and Boyoung."

You don't know where the boldness came from. You haven't uttered Boyoung's name around him ever since you started spending time together.

Mingi pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before nodding.

"Yeah, I know the rumor." He chuckles, seemingly not bothered by the question or the mention of Boyoung so you relax a little bit but still not enough to not wait for his response with a bated breath. "It's not really a rumor per say."

You slow down your chewing on the piece of kimbap you just popped in your mouth.

"We've known each other since we were kids, grew up in the same town and stuff. I confessed to her in our senior year of high school and she said she didn't feel the same way." He shrugs as if it isn't a big deal and you chew with your brows furrowed. "I got over it, honestly. Haven't felt that way about her for a long time."

"Oh." You muse out, not know with what you're supposed to respond with as you reel the new information in.

"Yeah." Mingi chuckles awkwardly, slurping more noodles in his mouth.

"And you just gave up? Just like that?" You ask curiously and he gives you a strange but amused look.

"What else was I supposed to do?" He asks as he swallows his food. "I can't force her to feel something she doesn't."

"Dunno..." You think, "I wouldn't give up that easily."

"Well, I know you wouldn't. You're used to getting things your way, aren't you?" Mingi chuckles before shaking my head. "Nah, I'm pretty content with giving up."

"Well, if you're sure." You shrug but you would be lying if you said you didn't feel a huge amount of relief curse through you at his words. He doesn't have feelings for Boyoung.

After you're done with your food, Mingi stands up to clear out the counter.

"The best thing about having convenience store food for dinner is that..." He starts, as he pushes all the wrappers and paper cups into a plastic bag with one swipe, "-everything goes to the trashcan and there are no dirty dishes afterwards."

You laugh as you stand up, grabbing your jelly drink and opening it to taste it and handing Mingi his own before you make it up to his room.

His room is completely dark when you walk in, only faintly illuminated by the lights coming from the screen of his laptop and the street lamps coming from the window.

"Hey." He whispers, big hand wrapping around your wrist as he turns you towards him after he shut the door. You look at him in confusion as he takes the opened jelly drink away, placing it along with his on the desk before his hands rest on your cheeks.

He kisses you softly, sweetly. You let out a little sound of surprise before kissing back, letting his tongue lick past your lips. He tastes like artificial blueberries.

Slowly, he guides you towards his bed where you fall and he climbs on top of you as he deepens the kiss.

You moan, running your hand through his dark locks before pulling on the ends as he pulls you up to the center of the bed and settles between your legs.

The sex that night is different. You don't know why or what prompts it but it just is.

It's softer, slower but still passionate and you feel like your body is melting between his sheets as he rolls his hips into yours in a torturous pace.

"What are you doing to me?" Mingi whispers against your neck as you moan at the way he thrusts into you that it has you seeing stars, "Why are you so good to me, huh?"

You don't even register the words he says because you're too lost in the pleasure and just...him.

When you both come, you lay under his sheets with tangled limbs and sip on the blueberry jelly drinks as you whisper to each other about nothings and everythings.

You decide to ask Song Mingi out on a date.

That night as you stare at the ceiling of Mingi's bedroom, your eyes trace the shapes of a boy and a girl coasting through the purple clouds  of Wonderland on a Persian rug, admiring the colorful scenery of the green daisy lake and pink mountains. The stars wave as the boy and the girl fly past them.

The stars know that one of them cares too much and the other gives up too easily.

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role - ACT IV (C.S; S.MG)

title; I got a problem with parties 'cause it's loud in my brain and I can never say sorry 'cause I won't take the blame  

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader (for now lol)

warnings (PLEASE READ!): the teaser contains a depiction of attempted sexual assault and descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of drug abuse

wc: almost 16k

taglist: @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwaist @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke  @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny @kpopnightingale @xosim @raineadlr @ilikepalta @m4rsluv @gojocatt @smimingi @bubbleteakittyy  @mingkiyoo @theactresstarringinurbadreams​

buy me a coffee!

act iii / masterlist / act v  

“It's easy to look back and see it, and it's easy to give the advice. But the sad fact is, most people don't look beneath the surface until it's too late.”

― Wendelin Van Draanen, Flipped

"I'm going to Wooyoung's place!"

You can hear your mother gasp out dramatically after hearing your loud announcement as you walk towards the front door, your bag draped over your shoulder and your coat in hand.

Your father lowers the newspaper in his hands as he sits on the living room couch and looks at you over the rim of his reading glasses, a distinct sign that he's not sure you're telling the truth. Even Seonghwa, who doesn't ever seem to care what you're up to nowadays, peeks out from the kitchen with his brows furrowed.

You can feel all of them watch you as you pull your coat on and zip up your boots but you don't look at them, knowing that they think you're actually following what they want by seeing Wooyoung makes you angry so you ignore them and leave the house.

But not before you hear your mother speak, just before you close the door.

"Did you hear that?" She exclaims, probably to your dad, "She's going to his place! I told you it would work!"

You roll your eyes and slam the door shut before walking to your car.

They have no idea that the reason you're going to Wooyoung's place isn't because you're fucking him and he's planning to propose to you but because he's gay and you're annoying and want to try your new make-up palette on him.

"Can you close your eyes normally?" You scold Wooyoung as you shift in his lap, balancing a brand new Pat McGratch eyeshadow palette in one hand and a brush in the other.

Wooyoung is underneath you in his pajamas, with his eyes shut so tight you're worried it will cause early wrinkles.

It's all very two-besties-hanging-out-on-a-Thursday-night but if anyone would walk in, all they would see was you straddling Wooyoung with his hands on your thighs and faces very close to each other.

"Sorry, I'm scared you're gonna poke my eye out." He mutters with his eyebrows knitted and a pout on his lips as he peeks at you through one eye and then tries to relax so you can work on his eyelids.

"Don't worry, I've been doing this for years." You whisper, applying more shadow to his other lid and trying to even it out. You hum in approval. "Oh, a smokey eye looks good on you!"

"It does?" He asks, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt as you continue to work. "I've never worn make-up before."

"You're missing out, it's fun."

"My dad would probably kill me if he saw me like this." He laughs but you can recognize the tinge of sadness that he tries to play off in his voice.

"Then you just have the wrong dad." You shrug, applying a thin layer of color on his lower lash line.

"Do I?" He asks quietly, eyes looking at you timidly. "Or am I just wrong?"

You lower your brush away from his face to look at him properly. He's staring back with a serious expression on his face before his eyes dart away from you and focus on something else in his spacious living room.

"Don't be stupid." You say bluntly, busying yourself applying more shadow to his crease so he doesn't notice just how much his question affects you. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Really? Because everything would just be so much easier if I was normal."

"You are normal." You snap, eyes connecting to him so he knows that you mean every word you say. "It's not your fault that your parents are so shitty that you have to hide who you are from them."

Wooyoung goes quiet, bottom lip jutting out and eyes dropping down as he continues to play with the hem of your skirt.

You close your eyes, taking a silent breath and cursing yourself for snapping at him. A month ago, Jung Wooyoung wasn't someone you cared about in the slightest but things are different now.

He is your....friend. Yeah, Jung Wooyoung is your friend.

And seeing the way he beats himself up, hurts you.

"Is your dad wrong as well?" He asks quietly, interrupting the silence.

You chuckle at the question, dropping down the brush once you're done and moving off of him to retrieve the small mirror from your bag.

"Wooyoung, both of my parents are so wrong for me that if I wasn't the spitting image of my mother, I'd think they snatched someone else's baby at the hospital." You hand him the mirror. "Here."

Wooyoung looks at his reflection in the small mirror, moving his head side to side and admiring the work on his eyes.

"Oh wow, you're right." He nods, almost impressed. "It does look good on me."

Snorting, you sit down next to him and look around his living room.

It's spacious and nicely decorated, modern furniture that matches with the rest of the apartment.

"You got a nice apartment." You hum and Wooyoung drops the mirror down on the coffee table. "Kinda great that they let you move out."

"Doesn't really make much of a difference," He responds bitterly, sitting up and pouring you a glass of juice that he got out of the fridge once you arrived. "They hang over me so much that it feels like I'm still with them. And if it's not my parents then it's their secretaries."

You don't respond to the admission, only let your head hang back on the sofa with pursued lips.

It seems like both you and Wooyoung are in the same boat, no matter what. Both of you can't seem to escape your parents' clutches and not due to the lack of effort.

"Hey, what happened last week with you?" He asks suddenly, taking a sip from his glass. "Somebody said they saw you and some guy fighting in a hallway on campus or something."

Oh, right. That.

You stay silent, intensely staring at his turned off flat screen TV. Maybe if you play it off like you didn't hear him, he'll move on. Wooyoung doesn't budge though.

"Was the guy San?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Is your curt reply.

"Why not?" Wooyoung persists.

"I don't know, why don't you want to talk about Namhyuk?" You throw back quickly, cocking your head to the side only to see Wooyoung's curious eyes melt into a glare.

A moment of silence ensues where you let out a deep sigh and look around his apartment, hoping to see something that you could start a conversation about. Because, as crazy as it sounds considering your history with Wooyoung, you didn't come here to fight tonight.

You just wanted to hang out.

"How about a boy for a boy?" You turn to him in confusion at the question. Wooyoung stares back.

"What? A boy for a boy?" You shake your head, not understanding what he's getting at.

"You tell me about San and I'll tell you about Namhyuk." He elaborates and you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off, "But it has to be the full story. Your feelings about him, how you met, how it ended. Just...everything."

You glare at him for one silent moment, hesitant about the entire situation and slightly hating Wooyoung for making you pick. You're really curious about Namhyuk.

"Fine. If you don't want to then-"

"San and I met at my first college party."

"Look dude, I already told you I wasn't interested!" You try to put as much distance between you and the disgustingly drunk and two-times-bigger-than-you college boy who cornered you the moment you stepped out of the bathroom.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that." He slurs with a sleazy grin as he twirls a strand of your long hair around his finger. "I just want to have some fun. I could definitely show you a good time."

"No, thank you." You say firmly, deciding that maybe if you're nice in turning him down he might give up but he only moves closer making you back up against the wall.

"You're a freshman, aren't you? How about I show you how college boys have fun?" Once he places his sweaty hand on your waist, you weakly push him away and try to make your escape but his hand wraps harshly around your wrist and he pins you to back the wall.

You look around the empty hallway of the second floor as that very familiar panic began to set in at full speed as your hands continue to push at his chest. The music was loud and everyone was downstairs. You had a drink or two but you were still sober enough to think straight so you knew that this guy could easily pull you in the empty bedroom you were a step away from.

No-one would see him pull you in, no-one would notice you were gone because Jennie and the rest of the girls were too drunk and high to care, no-one would hear you scream and no-one would find you until it was too late.

"Please, let go of me." You whimper, pushing weakly but it's like your hands are made out of lead, too heavy to lift up.

Flashbacks of the time you were sixteen start playing in front of your eyes and you squeeze your eyes shut, tears now freely streaming down your face as you feel him touch your back.

"L-let go!" You sob but he doesn't listen instead you feel lips on your neck that make your throat start closing up.

And then it's gone. He's pushed off of you.

You slide down the wall as dots began to cloud your vision. You can faintly recognize yelling in the background but it's overpowered by the buzzing in your ears. You're trying to catch your breath but it's like all the air in the house got sucked in, you feel hands on your clothed shoulders.

"H...y. Yo....ne...d to br...ath..."

You're gripping someone's hand. It's bigger than yours and you can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Something cold is placed at the back of your neck and it makes you jump in place as you look up in surprise, vision finally clearing.

He's in front of you and his mouth is moving, he's the one who is holding your hand.

"Ar... y...u ok...y?"

"H-huh?" You stutter out, blinking away so your eyes can adjust to the lighting. Finally, there's that 'pop!' in your ears and the buzzing disappears.

"Are you okay?"

You finally take the time to look around you, there's a bottle of water opened up next to you and a puddle next to your feet with kitchen towels next to it. The guy is nowhere to be found and your eyes widen when you realize that your ability to speak is back.

"He-! He tried to- He didn't want to let me go! I t-told him no but he-"

"Hey, hey!" A soft but stern voice interrupts you, "I know, okay? He's gone."

You look at him, your head leaning back against the wall as your hands continue to shake.

"Where...where is he?" You whisper, feeling scared that he'll come back.

"The guys  that live here beat him up and reported him to campus police. We're all going to make sure he gets charged. Okay? He's not going to get away with this. I won't let him." He answers, you can recognize the anger in his voice that he tries to suppress for the sake of you but his cheeks are flushed and he's replacing the wet kitchen towel on the back of your neck with a new one. You recognize it as the cold sensation you felt a moment ago. "Sorry, your clothes are getting wet but you were having a panic attack."

A panic attack.

You haven't had those in awhile.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" He asks, moving your hair out of the way as he adjusts the wet towel.

"No." You respond through a whisper, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Did you come here alone?" He keeps prodding, you nod in response despite knowing Jennie is probably downstairs drunk off her ass. How could she possibly help you? "Do you live on campus? I can walk you home."

"I don't live on campus." You answer quickly and he pauses with putting the cap back on the water bottle as he glances at you.

"Okay, that sounded weird, especially after what you just went through." He shakes his head, like he was scolding himself, "I sent the rest of the guys that were here away because I figured you needed space. You don't have to be scared of me, I just...I'm trying to help."

"I'm fine."

"Can you call someone, at least? So they can take you home?"

You don't say that you were the one that drove the rest of the girls here. You realize what a stupid decision it was to drink when you're supposed to drive home but after the fight with Seonghwa today...after he attacked you like that...you needed a fucking drink.

"I...I drove here." You say quietly, avoiding his eyes.

"You drove here...." You can't tell if he says it like he's judging you but you're too shaken up to be embarrassed. "Did you drink?"

"I had two glasses."

He sighs quietly, you notice the music is a lot quieter downstairs as well. You can hear laughter occasionally.

"Okay, we'll just wait for you to sober up then." And he hands you the water bottle.

You take it and stand up on shaky legs but look at the stairs leading to the first floor in reluctance. He notices quickly.

"You don't want to go back downstairs?"

You shake your head in 'no'.

He looks around in thought before turning to you again and motioning to the big balcony. "Do you want to sit with me outside?

Your feet move to the direction of the balcony, the fresh August night air hitting your skin makes goosebumps rise and you take off the wet kitchen towel that was clinging to your neck before sitting down on one of the empty chairs. He quietly sits next to you.

You start gulping down the water to help your dry throat but also to sober you up as quickly as possible.

He clears his throat next to you.

"I'm sorry if I'm handling this the wrong way or something. I'm...I don't know what I'm doing actually." He chuckles nervously, "I'm just trying to help the best way I can and-"

"You're doing fine." You quietly interrupt, glancing at him before looking at the view over the railing. "I don't know how one is supposed to handle when something like this happens so..."

"...right."

Your hands are still shaking and your heart is still beating loudly but at least you're breathing normally again.

"How...how are you just so calm all of a sudden?" He asks quickly, brows furrowed as he levels you with a stare. He sucks in a deep breath. "Because I'm...I'm angry and freaked out."

You turn to him again, face blank and trying to think of what to say. Do you tell him this isn't the first time something like this happened?

"Do you have a cigarette?" You ask, turning to him and he looks at you in a 'are you serious right now?' way before nodding. He pulls out a pack from his back pocket before giving you a hesitant look.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to smoke? I mean, you just had a panic atta-"

"It'll be fine." You cut him off, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and pulling one out, he offers you a lighter.

You breathe out the smoke, watching it disappear into the air as you both sit in silence. His fingers keep tapping the armrest of the chair.

"I'm Y/N." You murmur, needing to do something to distract you from your shaky hands.

"I wish we met under better circumstances, Y/N." He replies lightly and you turn to him, his lips quirk up and dimples show.

"I'm San."

"He didn't start flirting until I started flirting that night." You sigh, running a hand through your hair before leaning to grab your glass from the table. "But he was so sweet and cute. And not in a, like, physical way although, yeah, San is hot. But he was just so nice and despite what happened that night, he made me feel so safe. And it's not easy for me to feel safe with anyone, especially a guy."

Wooyoung sits silently next to you but he hangs onto every word, eyes heavy on the side of your face.

"And I know..." You mutter, playing with your fingers, "I know any decent guy would've done the same thing but San...he was there at every single hearing I had with the campus about that incident. I never told my parents because...I just didn't... but San was there. He didn't even speak more than two words to me at a time but he was there, in my corner, every single step of the way until that guy was suspended and got what he deserved."

You sigh, head dropping back to rest on the couch. Wooyoung stays unmoving on his side.

"I wanted to be with him." You say in a small voice. "I already decided that at the party but the desire just grew. I wanted to know everything about him. Which was a fucking mistake because anyone getting to know Choi San better is his own personal nightmare." You grumble bitterly and Wooyoung chuckles softly. "We started sleeping with each other because, apparently, he doesn't date. Which is bullshit since he's dating someone right now."

Yeah, San and Boyoung were officially boyfriend and girlfriend now. Minjeong told you four days ago.

"And I fell in love." Wooyoung hisses at that and you let out a snort, amused by your own tragedy.

"I blew up on his girlfriend last week. And you know very well what I mean by that..." You throw Wooyoung a smirk because he knows better than anyone just how vile you can actually get as he was your victim himself one too many times- only Wooyoung fought back just as hard and was just as vile.

"I was horrible..." You whisper, brows furrowing as the guilt you've been carrying for the past week seeps through your voice. "I was so...And she just took it. She didn't say a single word to me, instead she just took whatever bullshit I threw at her."

"And then San blew up on me." You carry on, trying to hide just how affected you were by his words. "Said it how it always was, I guess. He never cared about me, was only in it for the sex. Still hurt like a bitch, though."

"I understand that he helped you and everything. And I know you, like, hate losing ever since you were a kid but still, why would you put yourself through that, Y/N?" Wooyoung can't help but ask and you pursue your lips, fingers coasting over the material of your plaid skirt.

"Do you know that movie Flipped?" You question and he looks confused, partly annoyed because he thinks you're avoiding the question.

"No." He shakes his head.

"It's a good movie. It's based on this book by Wendelin Van Draanen." You explain and he just keeps watching you, waiting to see where you're going with this. "Well, it's about a girl who keeps chasing this boy who absolutely never deserved her, in my opinion. The girl's father is a painter and there's this really cool quote from the book about a painting being more than the sum of it's parts."

"A cow by itself is just a cow, meadow by itself is just grass and flowers and the sun peeking through the trees is just a beam of light but when you put them all together, you create something magical." You recite the quote from the top of your head, having read the book so many times that by now you know it from the front cover to the back. "It's stupid and childish, especially when I say it out loud to someone like this."

You chuckle shyly, "But I guess I just really want to believe that San is more than the sum of his parts. Just like the character from that book. And that night...that night and everything that related to it was a reminder that there might be more to him than he lets on. It's what kept me with him for so long. He has to be more than just a hot, college fuckboy. "

"It might be about wanting something I know I can't have and being stubborn because I hate losing. Sure, San is handsome and everyone wants him but cute guys that have game are a dime a dozen on this campus." You bite your lip, remembering seeing San in the hallway every time you were making your way to the office of the campus president. "But someone who cared that much about what almost happened to a complete stranger that they were so invested in the case until justice was served...you don't find someone like that often."

"And yeah, he was flirting with me that night but I genuinely think that he just played into it because he thought it would make me feel better, at least at the start." You poke your cheek with your tongue. "I don't think that he was trying to get into my pants that night because...he didn't try anything until I initiated it weeks after that."

You're in love with the guy you met freshman year on that balcony after going through something enough to traumatize you and I comforted you.

"I don't even know if what I'm saying is making sense at this point but I just...I just want to believe that he's a really good guy." You whisper, turning to him. "Is that so wrong?"

Wooyoung just keeps staring and you start fidgeting in place, eyes falling away from his because you're scared of what you will see.

"Namhyuk was the first boy I ever kissed." You turn to him in surprise, not expecting to hear that. Wooyoung's eyes aren't wavering. "We went to the same private school. We were drunk when it happened the first time and then it just kept happening when we were sober, as well."

Your mouth is hanging wide open, images of a drunk Namhyuk scaring Wooyoung at that party flashing through your mind and you a feeling of an immense sadness overtakes you.

"Young-ah..." You whisper, finally being hit by just how much his words might've hurt Wooyoung.

Wooyoung just keeps going though.

"I already knew I was gay but he said he wasn't, yet he was always the first one to initiate it and that confused me because I don't think being gay is something bad. I know I just had, like, an existential crisis not even twenty minutes ago but I always say shit like that because it's easier to blame myself, deep down I know there's nothing wrong with me." He pauses, breaking eye contact with you to look down at his half filled glass. "Namhyuk does think it's something bad though, so when I said that I refuse to do anything with him until he figured himself out he got upset and we stopped being friends altogether."

"That night of the party, I saw one of his friends on the lawn in front of the house and that's why I didn't want to go in. Because I knew he'd probably be there as well." Wooyoung shrugs with a light smile but you can tell it's just a way to hide the hurt. "It was the first time I've seen him since we graduated high school."

Its silent in the apartment after he that, both of you just let everything you've said hang in the air.

"It's his loss. He's an asshole anyway." You whisper, hesitantly glancing at Wooyoung because you suck at comforting people but you felt like you had to say something.

"You don't have to do that." Wooyoung chuckles with a headshake, "I know better now than to let someone experiment with me and then go back to his girlfriend."

"Still,...you didn't deserve that." You comment quietly with a one sided shoulder shrug.

"Pft, look at you." He nudges your shoulder with his with a grin. "Are you going soft on me, Park?"

"Shut up." You push him away, pulling a pillow to your chest to have something to hug as your cheeks flush red. It only makes Wooyoung giggle more.

"You're a lot softer than you look, you know?" He adds, voice not louder than a whisper as his grin settled into a small smile. But his eyes were still teasing.

"Whatever." You grumble, although your lips quirk up.

"But, I have to ask..." He drags out, "I know you said he won't sue you and it's been awhile and nothing happened but can you really be that sure?"

With a groan, you sit up and rummage through your bag again to take out your phone. Scrolling through the gallery, you throw the phone in Wooyoung's lap once the photo loads.

"Oh, wow..." Wooyoung stares at the screen with brows raised and mouth slightly hanging open, shocked by the image. And you can't blame him.

You and Jennie were both seventeen. Namhyuk was nineteen.

In the photo, you're glued to Namhyuk's side with his hand keeping your cheek glued to his and both of you wear bright, wide smiles. Jennie is laying across his lap, with her shirt pulled up and on her bare back are little lines of white powder.

You hate looking at that photo.

You were so high that night, you barely remember the party let alone that Namhyuk was at it but the photos you woke up to in the morning were proof that he, certainly, was.

You look so young in the photo, too young to ever be messing around with half of the shit you've done back then.

"It took me awhile to recognize him at that last party but..." You trail off with a nervous chuckle. Wooyoung silently returns the phone to you.

"Was it bad?" He asks quietly and you just look at him, mouth clamped shut. "You know...the drugs stuff."

You give him another chuckle, feeling ashamed at the mere mention of it before nodding your head. "Pretty bad."

Wooyoung seems to be mustering up the courage to gently touch your hand and he looks positively delighted when you don't immediately move away.

✩

"Hey, I have a meeting with my project group so I gotta leave early today."

Your head picks up from your laptop at Hongjoong's words as you watch him pack up his books. Nerves kicking up, you bite your lip as you continue to watch him pull his jacket on.

"O-okay." You nod and he gives you a small smile before going to stand up. "Wait."

Hongjoong turns to you in curiosity, still fiddling with his backpack.

"Are you, uh,...are you sure Mingi will show up?" You ask, trying to seem cool and collected. When in reality, your leg is bouncing up and down from the nerves.

He slows down his movements and counters you with a stare that you haven't yet seen on Hongjoong. It seems calculating.

"Why wouldn't he?"

Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I humiliated his best friend last week, treated her like complete shit and made her cry in front of the whole cafeteria.... And I didn't really make any progress on my assignment.

That's what you'd like to say. But you don't because maybe Hongjoong doesn't know what you've done. Maybe you still have a chance for him to think you're a good person, so instead,

"No reason. I was just wondering..." You trail off, suddenly finding your small pink pencil pouch extremely interesting.

"He'll be here." And with one last look, he is out of his seat and heading towards the library exit.

You sigh, head falling to the open textbook in front of you as your lips fold into a pout. Of course you're fucking nervous about what Mingi will say when he shows up.

He almost ripped you a new asshole just because you snapped a little at his precious best friend that day she bumped into you in the hallway because she's a fucking klutz. God only knows what he's about to throw at you after he finds out what happened last week.

And he'll definitely find out because apparently, everyone and their mothers know that you were playing Regina George and being a complete bitch to sweet little Boyoung in the cafeteria that day.

Looking up at the clock, it says that it's ten minutes past five. Mingi is late.

What if he stands you up?

It's not like you don't deserve it but still, quite embarrassing.

The sound of the main library door opening and closing causes your head to look up and you gulp once you see the tall figure of Song Mingi stalking towards you.

You straighten up in your seat immediately as you try not to stare at him.

Mingi pulls out the chair right next to you without a word and sits down, opening his backpack and pulling out his laptop and notes.

He doesn't even glance at you. So you just sit there in silence as well, all your practice books already prepared and enjoying the smell of his hoodie. It smells like whatever detergent he's using and something citrusy and musky, probably his cologne.

"Did you finish what I told you to last time?" He asks quietly, voice low and distant.

You clear your throat. "I, uh, got an error when I tried to test it and I didn't know how to fix it."

Mingi nods, motioning for you to move your laptop closer to him which you do quietly.

The next two hours feel like you're sitting next to a ticking time bomb. Every mistake you make, even a miniscule movement of yours, feels like it will be the thing to set him off and he'll be yelling at you for what you've done to Boyoung.

But it doesn't happen. Instead, Mingi just quietly fixes your mistakes and gives you tips that you obediently write down.

The suspense is still killing you though. You know he'll say something, he has to because he showed just how much he cared for Boyoung the last time, so it's a little bit frustrating to see him drag it out so much.

He's torturing you.

When he's packing up his stuff, you sit quietly in your seat and decide to bite the bullet.

"I didn't think you'd show up today." You say easily pretending to be unbothered, but the fiddling with your pencil is a dead giveaway. You glance at him.

Mingi stops the process of placing his laptop back into his backpack and turns to look at you as he leans back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I wouldn't have." He replies with a half shrug, "Hongjoong begged me to."

The pen in your hand freezes mid-air and blood rushes to your face.

Hongjoong knew? He knew and still cared enough to talk Mingi into helping you out? Begged?

Why?

"Now, God knows what Hongjoong has seen in you that he thinks he should do all of that for you," Mingi continues, finger running over the edge of the wooden table, "But he's my friend, so I agreed even though helping you is the last thing I want to do. Which is why I'm not doing it unless you pay me."

"I will pay you." You quickly mutter, sending him a curt glare but saying nothing else because you're cheeks are so red from embarrassment that you don't want to risk it.

You suck in a quick breath when Mingi stays quiet.

"Well?" You ask, motioning for him to keep talking. "You should get the Boyoung stuff off of your chest as well. Just let it all out right now, I can take it."

"I'm sure you can but I don't really have anything to say."

Now it's your time to be confused and maybe even a little bit surprised. Because how the hell does he have nothing to say? When he almost popped a blood vessel over something as minor as calling Boyoung out for when she bumped into you.

"So, you're not angry?" You ask dryly, almost expecting this to be some ploy for him to humiliate you back. You almost take it on yourself to look around and spot Boyoung coming up behind one of the bookshelves to throw a bucket of pig's blood over your head or something.

"I'm not...angry. Just disappointed."  Mingi responds solemnly and you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue again.

"You sound like my dad."  You chuckle with an eye roll.

Somehow you think that you know what Song Mingi is doing. Someone saying they're disappointed in you is always worse than them being angry with you. Even if he's a complete stranger, you hate that he was expecting something more from you despite barely knowing you.

"And you don't even know me..." You continue, eyes coasting over the surface of the table so you don't have to look at him. He's back to packing up his stuff. "So, you don't have a reason to be disappointed."

"That's true." Mingi nods quietly and stands up, throwing his backpack over one shoulder. "I barely know you and yet I still didn't peg you as the type to put down another girl over a guy."

The quiet sigh leaves you before you know it and you watch his back as he disappears through the door.

You start packing up your stuff with a clenched jaw and a refusal to let Mingi get into your head.

You know what you've done was wrong and you might feel bad about it but what's done is done. No use crying over spilled milk now.

Apologizing to Boyoung would happen only over your dead body. It's not in your nature to admit when you're wrong and especially not to offer an apology to a girl who has San.

You hurt her. San hurt you in response to it.

So it's even.

You were left sad, alone and hurt after a year of running after Choi San, embarrassing yourself by having sex with him in dirty public bathrooms, not standing up for yourself when Yeosang made fun of you, allowing San to think you were dumb. All in the hopes of molding yourself into a girl that San would eventually want. That's punishment enough.

Besides, you have enough on your plate as it is, with school, your parents breathing down your back and keeping up with whatever is happening in your shitty group. Especially now, when everyone knows you and San are done for good and that you lost him to Son Boyoung.

✩

The most infuriating part is that they have the balls to rub it in your face.

"I think it's kind of nice that San finally decided to settle down. Don't you, Y/N?"

Jennie was always the ballsier one out of the bunch. Especially when it came to trying to bring you down.

If you actually gave a fuck about her, it would be heartbreaking. Because you made her what she is today.

Before Jennie met you, she was just another kid who's life changed overnight when her father's company hit it big with a single contract. Kids like that never get accepted in the circles of old money. They were too boisterous, with no manners on how they should behave as the upper class and the immediate confidence that, just because they now had money, they were just like the rest of you.

It was no secret to anyone that soon after Jennie got allowed into your circle (thanks to you), she wanted to take your place.

You stare at her, lips quirking up into a faint smirk as your eyes narrow. Your eyes coast over the rest of the girls at your table, none of them say anything in response but a couple of them chuckle under their breath.

Minjeong, sweet little never-minding-her-business Minjeong, scrambles to say something.

"She's not even that pretty." She nervously chuckles, glancing at you and freezing when your eyes meet.

If you weren't at today's brunch, Minjeong would probably be leading the discussion on San dumping you for Boyoung but now that you're here, she loves playing the pacifist because she knows someone will leave crying and embarrassed and it won't be you.

"I mean, I know we both had a thing with him but I, for one, am happy for him." Jennie continues with a pretty and yet fake smile but it's hard to get past the malicious glint in her eyes.

That makes you let out a small laugh, to cover up that your blood is boiling under your skin. The audacity...

She didn't care about San before you started seeing him. And now, she has the nerve to say what you both had with San was the same.

"You should stop right now, if you know what's good for you." You say lightly, smile settling on your lips because you won't show that she has any effect on you. It's always been below you.

Her smile fades a bit and she glances at the rest of the girls, who no longer find her challenging you as something worth giggling over.

And you don't hide the satisfaction on your face over the fact that while they may rise up Jennie to the stars when you're not there- the moment you show up they no longer have her back and leave her to fend for herself. They hate you but they'll never say a word to you to your face.

"Stop what?" Jennie asks, jutting her chin up in, now, fake bravery. There's sounds of cutlery clinking against plates on the table, otherwise it's silence.

"Thinking that you can compete where you don't compare." You daintily wipe the corners of your mouth with a napkin, "So don't for a second think that you and I are the same to anyone. You're still the same tacky little girl that I brought to this table. You should've learned that by now."

You stand up, throwing the napkin to the table and grabbing your purse. Jennie's jaw is clenched and her face is beet red but she keeps her mouth clamped shut as she glares at you. The other girls are staring at you but you don't give them a second glance, instead with your head held high, you walk out of the restaurant.

Being rotten isn't something you enjoy but its the only way to survive.

"Are you free?" You ask after dialing Hongjoong's phone as you sit in your car in front of the restaurant where the brunch was held. You needed to be in his presence for some reason, he was soothing, always knew what to say.

"Uh, yeah? I'm at my apartment." He responds and you can already imagine the confused expression on his face. You've never hung out outside of school hours. Today was a Saturday.

"I'll come pick you up." You say before hanging up.

✩

When Hongjoong sits down in the front seat and you start driving again, you almost let out a laugh. If anyone were to see you two together, they'd probably be confused to the maximum.

Hongjoong with his split dyed hair, old jean jacket and matching jeans that swallow him up. And you, in a black and pink plaid miniskirt, black cropped blazer and stockings with a fucking matching ribbon in your hair. You look like two characters from a 2000's teen movie.

"Where are we going exactly?" You ask, brows pinching as you follow the directions he gives you.

"You'll see." Is all he says before telling you to take a right.

You stop in front of a house with an unkempt front yard and you turn to Hongjoong, who skips out of the car with a hum.

"Uh," You follow after him, slamming the car door shut and locking it before running a bit to catch up with him. "Are you sure we're allowed here?"

"Of course." He says, holding the fence door for you to walk into the yard.

"If you were planning on killing me, there were easier ways."

"I'm not going to kill you, Y/N." Hongjoong sighs and presses the old button of the door bell.

You hike your purse up your shoulder as you observe the old house which is in such bad conditions that you expect it to be abandoned. A thought crosses your mind that makes you blanch out.

"Hongjoong," You start, wrapping your arms around you. "I don't know what you've heard about me but I don't do drugs."

His hands fall out of his pockets and he turns to you with a puzzled expression.

"We're not here to do drugs."

"Well, then why-"

The front door opens revealing a woman in her mid forties. Her hair is long and wrapped up in a bun at the top of her head, she's in oversized clothes with glasses perched up at the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, Hongjoong! It's you!" She answers, almost relieved but then her eyes catch sight of you. "And you brought company?"

"This is the girl I've been telling you about." Hongjoong replies with an easy smile and you turn to him with a confused face.

The lady assesses you from head to toe. "She isn't exactly what I expected...."

"Just let us in." He only chuckles while your jaw is dropped and brows furrowed at her comment.

The inside of the house is significantly better, it's warmer and a lot cleaner. What catches your attention are the numerous paintings stacked up on one another in the hallway as you follow after Hongjoong and walk into an office of some sort.

It's messy but in an organized way, more paintings, sketches and books littering the dark space and you sit down on the chair next to Hongjoong as the lady sits behind the desk.

"So, what can I help you with?" She asks and you're tired of biting your tongue.

"I'm sorry but who are you?" You question with your face tilted to the side.

She glances at Hongjoong before looking at you with an unimpressed face. "I'm Ahn Yejin. I used to teach at your university."

"Professor Ahn, Y/N here has something that I think you'd like." Hongjoong takes over and you turn to him with a glare that's turning murderous. Maybe you'd be the one to kill him.

"You didn't tell me to bring any of my works." You hiss, throwing a quick glance at the lady.

"Oh, please. You carry that thick notebook everywhere with you, where is it?" Your jaw drops for the umpteenth time as Hongjoong grabs your purse from your hold and pulls out the notebook where you draw most of the time.

"That's not..." You try to grab the notebook back but he's already handing it over to the professor, "That's not my actual work. It's just something-"

"Quiet." She interrupts sharply and you instantly shut up. Hongjoong snorts beside you and you throw him another glare.

On other hand...

"No." You talk back, reaching over and taking the notebook from her hands. Hongjoong is looking at you like you're crazy. "I didn't come here for anyone to look at my sketches. I didn't even know where we were going."

You give Hongjoong a sharp look at that.

"You wouldn't have agreed to come otherwise and I knew this was the only way." Hongjoong replies sassily and you roll your eyes.

"Why do you even care so much?" You argue back and he clenches his fists as he gives you a stern glare.

"Because you're work is too good to just sit in that notebook with you hiding it from the rest of the world!"

"And you would know that because you're a professiona-"

"That's why I brought you here, Y/N, so you can talk to a profes-"

"Are you two done?" Professor Ahn interrupts and both of you turn to her with faces flushed from anger. She raises her brows at the silence and your eyes meet. "Do you want me to look at your work or not?"

"I don't have anything against you looking at my works but what I have here is just stupid drawings that I do in my free time. I have paintings I can bring you-" You start.

"Your paintings aren't as good as what you have in there!" Hongjoong interrupts and your jaw drops at the blatant insult as you give him an incredulous look.

"You bit-"

"Enough!" Professor Ahn snaps, "You're both wasting my time here!"

"You!" She looks at Hongjoong with a glare. "For bringing this brat into my office and giving me a headache!"

Then she turns to you with the same pissed off face. "And you! A measly college student who probably thinks her works actually have some substance to them because God knows they feed you that crap at that university because they're forced to fill out the yearly quota. So either show me what you have or get out!"

Your jaw almost reaches the floor at the insult. All you've gotten here since you walked in were insults actually. Hongjoong scrambles to fix the situation once he sees you began to stand up.

"Wait! Wait, Y/N, I'm sorry! Okay? Sorry for not telling you and bringing you here unprepared, okay?" You roll your eyes, looking outside the smudgy window. "Can you please sit down?"

"Professor Ahn didn't mean that."

"I did." You both throw her a glare before Hongjoong looks at you with pleading eyes.

"I just thought she could help you!"

"Help me with what?" You sigh, tiredly because you don't understand what he wants from you. Still, you fall back down on the chair, slouching.

When you called him, you expected to just go grab a coffee or something. Not...this.

"Help you improve your art even more." He says softly and you yield because you can't say no to Hongjoong, you realize.

And because, frankly, you don't have anything against improvement when it comes to your art. It's something precious to you, something you fought very hard for so why would you turn down advice from a professional who was employed at the university you currently attend? Even if it was a bitter, sharp-on-the-tongue professional like Professor Ahn.

You hand your notebook back to her.

She takes it from you, not before giving you another long and unimpressed stare.

You watch her flip through the pages. Drawings of dancing skeletons with Hawaiian skirts and mismatched eyes. Drawings of girls with rusty gears for eyes and smiles made out of nails bent out of shape. Drawings of two sad people twirling on a lonely, steep hill with their hands glued together as one laughs while the other one cries.

You squirm every time Professor Ahn throws a glance in your direction the more she flips through the notebook, her lips pursued.

"Well, these are..." She starts, glancing at you again with brows furrowed but a thoughtful expression on her face, "Well, these are quite good."

Your eyebrows jump a little at that, not expecting it to be the response. Professor Ahn almost looks as if it's painful to compliment you.

"It's not what I expected." She says, pausing at one drawing in particular. "They're dark. Morbid. Wouldn't expect you to have something like this in you."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, not sure how you're supposed to take her words. Was that a compliment?

"Uh, thanks?"

"How would you like to work with me?" Professor Ahn asks, raising her neatly plucked eyebrows as you look at Hongjoong for help.

"I, uh, what would that mean? Working with you?" You ask, feeling like you should have a lawyer with you or something.

"Just bringing me your sketches occasionally so we can look at them and discuss them." She explains, folding her arms in front of her. "I can give you tips to improve. Maybe even get you into some summer programs which could be helpful for you..."

And so you agree. A couple of more minutes of talking and planning until you and Hongjoong say your goodbyes. You hurry out of the makeshift office but not before you hear what Professor Ahn quietly utters to Hongjoong.

"You did good, Hongjoong."

You think about the exchange as you sit in your car and Hongjoong settles into the seat next to you with a content smile.

"See!" He beams, "That wasn't so bad!"

But you're not as amused.

"How do you know her?" You ask lightly, starting the car and driving out of the old street.

"She owns an art gallery and has an art clinic." He explains excitedly, "She hires students who are studying to be future art consultants and managers to help her scout for students with potential."

"Like you?" You ask, eyes not moving from the road. "You want to be an art consultant."

"Yeah." He nods, relaxing in the front seat. "I met her just before I started school here."

He continues to speak about Professor Ahn but you're not listening. There's a numbing buzz in your ear as you continue to drive.

"Yeah!" He nods enthusiastically, a smile stretching across his lips that made his eyes seem smaller. "I'm Hongjoong. I'm a third year."

"Y/N." You reply quietly, still measuring him up and down suspiciously. You've never seen him around here before.

"I know!" You press your lips together. He's probably seen you with San. And everyone and their mothers know Choi San. "I've read about your painting getting displayed for Mrs. Han's exhibition last year. You were the only freshman who got her painting picked."

"You know, I...I hope even after you turn in your Computer Science project the two of us could still hang out like this." He suddenly says, eyes running off to the side almost as if he's shy. He chuckles lightly. "I don't really have many friends here since I just moved this semester but you seem cool, Y/N."

"Is that your new project?" He asks, motioning to your sketchbook in front of you and the drawing on the first page.

"Would you like to meet a professor of mine?"

"Now, God knows what Hongjoong has seen in you that he thinks he should do all of that for you," Mingi continues..

"You did good, Hongjoong."

"-and she has connections all over the world, I mean, she could probably get you into a great program anywhere! Or help more of your works to be displayed at exhibitions..." Hongjoong's voice trails off, probably noticing how you're not nearly as stoked as he is. "Y/N, this is good news, you know? I mean, you're just a second year and you're already set!"

You pull up in front of his apartment complex. He is still looking at you but smile slowly fading once he notices your stoic face.

"Did you only befriend me so you can get me to meet her?" You ask quietly, leaving the car running as you turn to him and watch his face contort into confusion.

"Y/N...I mean, yeah. I saw the article about your painting at Mr. Han's gallery." He says, still lightly and probably thinking that it wasn't a big deal.

And yeah, perhaps it wasn't.

What Hongjoong did was good for you. A little bit scary maybe because you always thought it was a bit too early to start thinking about your career since you were barely in your second year of college but it will definitely be helpful. You should be grateful.

But the childish part of you feels hurt.

For once, you thought you made a friend just for the sake of it. No ulterior motives, nothing they can get out of hanging out with you and no social ladder to climb.

You thought you had a connection with Hongjoong, a genuine one which was something rare and precious to you.

But now, all the time you've spent sitting at that library table seemed just like he did it because he wanted to impress his boss. And that hurts you.

You liked Hongjoong. You thought he was your friend, while you may have not been a good friend to him and only because you don't know how to be a good friend to anyone, you were willing to learn. But now none of it is the same.

"We're in front of your apartment." You say detachedly as you face the front. Hongjoong glances at his building before turning to you confused.

"Wait, what's wrong?" He asks with a concerned expression.

"Nothing." You chuckle but it holds no humor. "I just...I thought I was your friend."

His face turns serious at that, mouth tugging downwards. "You are my friend."

You shake your head, mostly to chase away the tears gathering and he sits up, to look at you properly. "Y/N-"

"Wait, Y/N, you can't seriously be-" Hongjoong tries to smile, probably reason with you that you're being overdramatic but his smile slips when he catches sight of the tears pooling in your eyes. "Y/N,... you're my friend. Of course, you're my friend."

"I don't believe you." It's whispered out as you grace him with a small albeit fake smile. Hongjoong's hand reaches out to you, "You should get out. I have stuff to do."

His hand falls back to his lap and he lets out a small sigh. "Text me when you get home?"

You stay silent, refusing to look at him and without another word, Hongjoong opens the car door and steps out.

You can feel him watching you through the glass window as he closes the door back but you just drive off.

✩

The house is silent once you enter and you heave a sigh of relief to finally have some silence and peace for yourself. Your mother is probably out with her friends, your father is rarely home anyway and your brother...well, you have no idea.

Walking into the huge kitchen, you prepare yourself a quick meal from the left overs from last night's dinner and heat them up before sitting down on behind the counter and slowly digging in. You were still hungry since you barely ate at brunch, not that you would eat a lot there anyway.

As you ate, you couldn't help but think about Hongjoong.

Maybe you overreacted and made him feel guilty for something that really wasn't such a big deal.

But it was a big deal to you and in the moment, your emotions got the best of you as they tend to do.

You let out another quiet sigh as you shove a spoonful of food in your mouth.

Footsteps are heard patting around the house before your brother walks into the kitchen, removing his Airpods.

His cheeks are flushed and shirt damp with sweat so you can only presume he got back from the gym.

You try to focus on the plate in front of you because Seonghwa and you acknowledging each other around the house has went out the window ever since you started college but still, you can't help that your eyes glance up at him as he shuffles around every once in awhile.

He brings out a couple of ingredients out of the fridge and you suppose he starts preparing himself a quick snack. You remain quiet, trying to not make a sound that would piss him off and make him leave sooner that needed.

You missed your older brother so much that even moments like these where you both pretended like the other one didn't exist when you were in the same space alone- was something you cherished. How fucking depressing.

"Did you actually go to Wooyoung's place that day or are you using him as a cover up for that Choi guy you're sleeping with?"

You look up in surprise at...well, a lot of things. First one being that Seonghwa is actually speaking to you and the second one,...he knew about San?

Your mouth is hanging slightly open, brain trying to scramble for something to say.

"How do you know about him?" You ask quietly, playing with the rice on your plate.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes and gives you that look. The 'I know everything' look that he used with you ever since you were kids when you would try to hide something from him only to get busted later on.

"So, you are just using Wooyoung?" He avoids your question.

"No, I was at Wooyoung's place." You shrug, taking another bite and chewing slowly as you glance up at him. Seonghwa seems perplexed at the answer.

"You..." He looks around the kitchen, "..are hanging out with Jung Wooyoung? Willingly?"

You snort at that, knowing very well why he's surprised. He always knew you despised Wooyoung from an early age, was even a witness to many spats between Wooyoung and yourself while growing up.

"Yeah." You nod, the corners of your mouth perking up in amusement.

"You nearly threw a plate full of soup at his lap the last time I saw you together." Seonghwa muses, eyes on the fruits that he's cutting up. "And now you expect me to believe that you're...what? Dating him?"

"I'm not dating him." You respond, brimming with some kind of excitement because you think this is the longest conversation you've had with him in awhile. So what if it's about Wooyoung? "We're friends."

"Why?" He prodded, brows pinched in genuine confusion. "What could you possibly gain from him besides making mom and dad think that you're marrying him or something?"

"I'm not trying to gain anything from him." You sigh, thinking how it's sad that the first thing your own brother thinks when you tell him you made a friend is that you're trying to benefit from it. "We just...have a lot in common."

"Huh." Is his response as he prepares his snack and you return back to your food.

No other sound can be heard besides Seonghwa's knife against the cutting board and your spoon scrapping against the bowl. You decide to try.

"Hey, do you...uh...do you wanna watch a movie or something later?" You stammer out and his movements slow down. "I heard about this new thriller that just came out on Netfli-"

"I'm busy." Seonghwa cuts you off, the sharpness that you've grown accustomed to in his voice when he speaks to you is now back and he grabs his bowl before heading out of the kitchen.

"...right." You whisper to yourself as you watch him leave without another word. Your eyes are already watering and drop your spoon down, slumping into the chair.

What a shitty day.

After all the dishes from your meal are placed in the dishwasher, you drag your feet up the stairs and into your bedroom. The door to Seonghwa's room is closed shut.

You switch your outfit for a pair of sweatpants and a soft sweater before braiding your hair and heading into the bathroom to take off your make-up.

You stare at yourself in the mirror as the eyeliner disappears, mascara smudges under your eyes and foundation melts off. All that's left are cracks that are carefully hidden under layers of beauty products to hide who you really are. What you really are.

Rotten.

That familiar itch appears and you need something to numb everything and take the edge away, even for awhile. Your hand almost reaches up, out of habit, to your bathroom cupboard where your meds would usually be. It's empty now but the fact that you've even thought about it is bad enough.

Shaking yourself out of it, you leave the bathroom and plop down on your bed, deciding to scroll through your phone which ends up being an even bigger mistake.

The first thing that you see the moment you open Instagram is a photo of San and Boyoung. They're at Han River, bundled up and arms around each other as they both smile at the camera. San's caption is just a simple red heart.

It almost makes you tip-toe to your mother's bathroom cabinet.

You throw your phone away and instead grab your notebook from your bag and start drawing.

Your bad mood carries on through the weekend where you spend the entire day not leaving your room and it doesn't lessen up on Monday either.

After barely managing to get out of bed, you're in no mood to do your make-up. But since your first class is at noon, your mother is in the kitchen when you try to sneak out and doesn't let you leave the house until you're looking as put together as possible.

That was always your problem.

You liked pretty clothes, you liked dressing up and admiring how certain miniskirts looked on your figure. You didn't like make-up though.

And not in the way that some girls don't like make-up. The 'ugh, it's too much work to do in the morning' or 'I don't like make-up but only because I know the guys I hang out with don't like it'.

You like eye make-up. Experimenting with different shadows, colors and techniques that make your eyes stand out.

It seems kind of annoying, to think so seriously about something as mundane as make-up but sometimes, when you leave your house with a face fully done up- you feel like you're going to die.

You feel the exact opposite of how you're supposed to feel which is pretty.

Instead, you feel disgusting. You feel like you're suffocating. You feel like you're a car crash that people are watching happen in slow motion.

That's how you feel today.

It's only Monday and you already feel like the rest of the week will be as shit as your weekend.

Classes are okay, as they always are. Your professor compliments you in front of the whole class for a painting you submitted last month which is nice, it makes you feel a little bit better.

You eat lunch with the rest of the girls. Jennie is there, giving you a fake smile and everyone pretends like the brunch two days before didn't even happen.

You suppose that they feel at least a little bit satisfaction when you see Boyoung sitting with San, Yeosang and Yunho and looking like she actually belongs there meanwhile you're looking just slightly better than completely miserable.

You took San's words seriously that day when he said to stay out of his life.

It doesn't mean it hurts any less to see him look so happy with someone who's not you. Especially when it's with someone who you never deemed enough to be a threat the first time you saw her.

A part of you deep down, had the expectation that San would never settle down with anyone and that he would just hop from one girl to another without getting into a proper relationship and you would simply outgrow him and get over the fact that he didn't want you like that.

But this...Boyoung. She changed everything.

You catch Yeosang's eye and quickly look away, munching on your salad. Maybe he laughed about it to the rest of the table, how pathetic you are. Or maybe he looked at you with pity.

You don't know and you can't tell which one out of those two options is worse either.

After your last class is over, you find yourself in the library. You have a tutoring session with Mingi in two hours but you came early in hopes of finding Hongjoong. It's a relief to see him sitting in your usual place.

You quietly sit down in your chair and pull your stuff out of your bag. You don't comment on his surprised expression to see you there. You've put him through enough, you think.

"Sorry for the other day." You quietly say, taking a peek at him. "I was being dramatic. I'm thankful that you recommended me to professor Ahn."

"It's okay." He shrugs with a small, sweet smile  and your shoulders relax. "I didn't think through how it might've looked to you."

You nod awkwardly and open your laptop to start working on your assignment. You're too tired for small talk today, so you don't say anything else.

"You don't have a lot of friends, do you?" Hongjoong, who has the best ability when it comes to reading other people, asks. And it's asked quietly, not in a mocking manner but just...a question.

"Because, like, I've been thinking about it over the weekend. I always thought you had a bunch of friends so you didn't really care that much about me and you'd be, like, whatever if I stopped hanging out with you." He continues with a small chuckle, "But then you seemed really upset so-...I'm sorry. I'm being rude."

"I don't have a lot of friends." You shrug, not taking your eyes off of the screen even when you feel his eyes on you. "And stop saying I don't care about you because I do. I'm just not...not really good at being a good friend but...I'm working on it."

"I'll be a better friend." You whisper, more to yourself than anything. Something out of determination because you want to be good for him. And Wooyoung. You want to be a good friend to both of them even though you've never been taught how. The only real friend you had was Seonghwa and you managed to fuck up even that.

He's quiet after that and you go back to your work, thinking that the subject is closed. It's only after some time has passed in silence that Hongjoong whispers back;

"You are my friend, Y/N. Don't be doubting that just because of the circumstances over which we became friends."

And somehow, that makes you feel significantly better.

Once Mingi arrives it's a different story. Hongjoong leaves quickly after that and you two are left alone and you're not in the mood to be scolded by Mingi, so you stay as quiet as possible and follow his instructions diligently while trying your hardest to stay focused.

Unfortunately for you, today just ends up being the day when even Song Mingi is more talkative than usual.

"What's got you so down today? Daddy cut off your credit card?" Mingi asks innocently, knowing very well he'll piss you off. You glance at him from the corner of your eye before continuing to type.

"Nope. Credit card is still working." You quip back, sarcasm heavy on your tongue.

He hums lightly, checking your screen before moving your hand away from the mouse and placing his own hand on it.

"You missed another data entry command here." He murmurs and you try not to shiver at his low voice. You were still very much heartbroken and down in the dumps but you were only human so damned be Song Mingi for being so attractive.

You stay quiet as he fixes your mistake before you get back to work.

"You're kinda good at math." Mingi muses next to you and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Here we go again...

"I'm not 'kinda' good at math. I'm good at it." You correct snippily. "I won bronze at the Korean Mathematical Olympiad."

"Sure, you did." Mingi snorts, not believing a word of what you just said and you turn to him with your face scrunched up in annoyance.

"I did." You speak through clenched teeth, feeling awfully tired of everyone thinking you're fucking stupid when you're far from it.

"Yeah, okay. I believe you." He says with a short laugh as he keeps staring at your screen and fixing another mistake, not even glancing at you and looking so far from believing you that it makes your hands clench into fists. "You gotta work on making sure your lies are more believable, you know? Like, saying you had all A's in math when you were in high school is okay but saying you even managed to go to the Mathematical Olympiad is a bit of a stretch. You know what I mean? Like, nobody will believe that shit."

He's saying it like he's talking about the weather and you feel your hands relax and all the fight leaves your body.

You were so fucking tired.

What was it exactly about you that made people think you weren't smart? Was it the clothes? The make-up? Was it the way you spoke? The fact that you were pursuing a degree in art?

Didn't people know that some of the most famous painters in history were mathematicians and physicists with brilliant minds? Not that you were claiming you were on Leonardo da Vinci's level, no, you were just claiming you weren't the ditzy character who only had a pretty face and daddy's credit card going for her.

You stare at Mingi for a second longer. Would he doubt what you just said if you looked different than you do? If you weren't wearing the baby blue cropped sweater with a matching plaid high waisted skirt that made you look like you were picked off of the cover of a bubble gum pop K-pop album?

You don't know what it is but you're exhausted from it and it's then that you decide that you won't sit there and take it anymore.

You reach up without a word for your wallet and pull out the cash you had in it, figuring it should be enough for the lessons he gave you so far.

"Here." You state, placing the money on his keyboard and clicking 'save' on your file before closing your laptop shut.

"What's this?" Mingi asks, not moving to take the money only turning to you with a frown.

"It's for the lessons." You answer politely, packing up your stuff. There was only ten minutes left of your tutoring session with him anyway, you can leave earlier.

"You're supposed to give it to me when we're finished with your assignment." Mingi slowly says and even that, he makes sure to explain to you like you're dumb.

"We are finished." You pull on your Burberry coat as you place your things in your bag. "I have to turn it in next week anyway for the first revision so I'll finish it by myself and if I have any problems I'll just ask the professor for help then. I'll tell Hongjoong I don't need any lessons anymore so...you're free."

You give him a small smile before standing up. "See you around."

Mingi watches you move as you place your bag over your shoulder and start walking into the direction of the exit.

"Hey, wait." He quietly calls after you but you don't turn around, just so he won't see that you're close to crying.

Crybaby.

You do cry but it's after you've arrived home and were tucked away safely in the comfort of your bedroom. You're not even sure what you're crying about anymore but the tears are just flowing.

"What's up with her?" You overhear your brother mutter to your mother out in the hallway after you said you'd be skipping dinner tonight when your mother came to call for you.

"Ah, she's in one of her moods again." You can already imagine her waving her hands off at him.

So it's no surprise that Seonghwa bursts into your room after dinner, seemingly angry.

"Are you doing it again?" He asks loudly, hands clenched into fists as he stares at you sitting behind your painting aisle.

"Doing what?" You counter back confusedly, moving away your brush from the canvas to not mess up the painting. A playlist Wooyoung sent you this morning is softly playing in the background.

"Don't act fucking stupid, Y/N! Are you using again?" He's close to yelling now.

You guess it makes sense that he'd be asking that. When you were in high school every time your mother announced you were in 'one of your moods' it just meant that the high from the drugs came crashing down and all you wanted to do was lie in bed...or die. She didn't know what it really was though, just assumed you were being a moody teenager.

"What? No." You shake your head, brows still furrowed and quickly growing even more upset.

Seonghwa stares you up and down. You're sitting on the stool in your old sweatpants and a thick sweatshirt, your hair held back by a hairclip. It might've not been your best look but you didn't think it was so bad that it would make him believe you're doing drugs again.

Quickly, he disappears into your bathroom and you drop your brush down on the little wooden table before you follow after him.

"What are you doing?" You call after him as you watch him rummage through your bathroom cupboards. "There's nothing there, Hwa."

"Don't call me that!" He snaps, pushing past you and continue to go through the drawers of your dresser, kicking clothes and things that get in his way.

"Will you stop this?! I'm gonna call mom!" You yell back, picking up the stuff he throws to the floor during his raid.

"Do a test." He says breathlessly as he hurries out of your room. You stand in your doorway a confused 'what?' falling on your lips quietly before he's stalking back out of the main bathroom and into your bedroom and heading straight to your bathroom attached to it.

"Do a test." He repeats firmer this time, placing the familiar plastic cup on your sink that you assume was the reason he was scavenging through the main bathroom.

"Are you serious right now?" You didn't even know you had these at home. He must've bought them.

"Dead serious." Seonghwa nods at the plastic cup and with tears of embarrassment welling up in your eyes (not like they're getting ready to fall for the umpteenth time today), you walk into the bathroom and grab the cup.

He's in the small entryway that separates your bathroom from the bedroom, turned with his back towards you as you do your business in the bathroom, sniffling occasionally before you pull your sweatpants back up and place the cup quietly on the sink. Seonghwa drops the dip card into the cup and you both stand in front of it in silence as you wait for the results.

"I'm not using again." You break it to him silently. He's quiet for a moment.

"You're a liar, Y/N." He grits out coldly, not even sparing you a glance. "I stopped believing anything you say a long time ago."

You can't exactly blame him, the shame re-surfaces every once in awhile and you doubt being in the bathroom as your little sister pees in a cup is ideal for anyone, so in a way you understand him.

Doesn't mean you're not hurt though.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying as you both observe the card. Not even two minutes pass by and the two lines that you expected from the start- appear.

Negative.

"Get out of my room." You whisper and Seonghwa almost robotically, without a second word or glance towards you, disappears out of the bathroom.

When you hear the door of your bedroom close shut, you allow yourself to cry into your hands.

After the quiet sobs subsided into sniffles, you pick yourself up from the cold bathroom floor and pad back into your bedroom, going under your bed covers. You didn't feel like drawing, or painting. You couldn't even imagine Miguel The Skeleton or what he might be up to nowadays.

You flopped on your back, focusing on the ceiling and hoping that the dots would connect into something but they don't and every image that you conjure feels so forced that you give up with a sigh and just pull the covers all the way up.

Your phone buzzes.

"Hello?" You mumble into the speaker, not even checking who was calling.

"Hey! What's up?" Hongjoong's cheery voice echoes from the other line and you start to think that he has some medical effect on you. Just hearing him is enough for your mood to spike up.

Is this what friends are usually for?

Maybe you should call Wooyoung...but he said he was busy this week since he was preparing for a huge exam and you didn't want to be a bother.

"Uh, nothing. Just...doing school stuff." You fake a small laugh, hoping he doesn't recognize the grogginess in your voice.

"Oh, well, I was calling to ask if you wanted to hang out this Saturday." Hongjoong speaks and you play with your comforter as you listen. "I'm holding a small get-together at my place. It's not anything big or fancy honestly, like, fifteen people tops but you should come!"

"Um," You press your lips together, looking around your room in thought. "Who's gonna be there?"

"Mingi and the rest of my roommates, a couple of people from classes..."

You frown a bit, it seemed like Mingi will be the only familiar face and you don't think you like the sound of that. Usually, you were pretty confident with meeting new people. You knew you were likeable when you put in the effort but what if they already heard about you and hate you?

But still, you promised you'd try to be a good friend and being a good friend means coming to parties that you've been politely invited to, right?

"Okay." You nod and Hongjoong cheers excitedly before you both bid each other goodbyes.

It's just a party, Y/N. How bad could it be?

✩

"Hey, what's up- What are you wearing?" Wooyoung's voice echoes off of the speaker as you place your phone on the dresser so he can catch a full glimpse of you.

It's Saturday, the day of that stupid get-together Hongjoong invited you to and you spent the last hour cruising through your wardrobe to look for a suitable outfit. You put less effort into the outfit for your last year's birthday party  than you did today.

"Is it bad?" You whine giving him a twirl. You were in a pair of beige slacks with a soft white sweater that reached just above your waist.

"I mean...it's bad for you. Why do you even have those pants?" Wooyoung comments with a scrunched up face and your arms drop to your sides in defeat. "You never wear stuff like that, why would you wear it to a party?"

You have the pants because your mother bought them for you two years ago and they've been sitting in your closet ever since.

"I don't know." You grumble, sitting down behind your vanity so he can hear you better, "There's gonna be a lot of people I don't know, I want to make a good impression."

"And you can't make a good impression in what you usually wear?" He questions and you hear crunching sounds in the background and he appears on screen with his mouth full, chewing on something. "You like this Hongjoong guy or something?"

"What?! No!" You scoff, "It's just that...I don't know..."

You know maybe if you spent less time planning your outfits and more time actually sitting in class and paying attention, you wouldn't be failing.

Woah, where did that come from? Those surely aren't the words of Song Mingi and you surely don't care what about he thinks of you. Your subconscious needs to work on itself because you refuse to allow that asshole to get under your skin.

"Tell me..." Wooyoung whines from the other side and you sigh dramatically.

"They're all going to be super smart and I'm scared that they'll look down on me. Or something. I don't know."

"They're gonna look down on you...because you came dressed nicely?" Wooyoung cocks an eyebrow and you groan in response, running a brush through your hair. "Besides, since when did you care what other people think? The last party you went to, you knocked out a football player twice your size."

When you stay silent, a pout etched onto your lips- he continues with a frustrated groan.

"Y/N, for fuck's sake, God gave you a ridiculously pretty face and a hot body, not to play into your assets would be a stupidity! Is that what you wanted? For me to compliment you?!"

"Was it hard?" You ask with a small smirk, feeling strangely comforted to be talking to him.

"Yes! It feels like I just swallowed acid!" He snaps back and you snort.

"But seriously, you're probably gonna be hanging out with a bunch of art nerds the entire night. Get a grip on yourself, like, you're better than being nervous about that. And if they don't like you then fuck 'em! Who cares!"

"I guess..." You murmur, glancing at your reflection in the mirror.

"Now change your outfit, I can't look at you in that bland sweater." He commands, showing another mouthful of chips into his mouth.

"I wish you could come with. I think you'd like Hongjoong." You tell him as you go back to your closet, taking off the sweater and throwing it to the floor as you rummage through your clothes.

"As fun as it would be to watch you quiver in fear around a bunch of geeks, I'll pass, this week beat my ass." Wooyoung sighs and there's some shuffling heard, "I have an episode of How To Get Away With Murder and some takeout just calling my name before I hit the sack."

"I understand." You respond loudly as you pull on your black knee high leather boots with a chunky heel before walking out of the closet and in front of your phone so the front camera can catch your full body.

"How's this?" You ask, giving another twirl.

"That's what I'm talking about! You should burn those pants." Wooyoung hollers from the other line and you roll your eyes despite the small smile rising on your face.

You turn to your full-body mirror, observing yourself.

You're in your Sundown Tripper cardi that fits you like a glove, stopping just above your belly button and accentuating your cleavage with the top button undone, a high waisted black mini skirt that stops mid thigh and black boots that reach your knees.

You smile because the top has all your favorite colors. Hot pink, purple, red and orange.

"I like wearing skirts." You say decidedly, even scolding yourself a little bit for thinking you needed to dress differently to impress anyone.

Skirts looked pretty on you, they fit your figure well and you felt good in them. Such shallow thoughts but what could you do? Everyone was a little bit shallow.

"Okay, good for you and now that this crisis is over, I'm hanging up because my food should be here soon." Wooyoung sings.

"Okay, bye!" You bid before hanging up.

You go to your jewelry box, adding a pair of small, gold hoop earrings and a matching golden necklace. Your make-up was done fairly simple to what you usually do for parties but you were planning on dressing up like you're going on a funeral at the beginning.

Too late to fix now, the eyeliner and glossy lip will just have to do. You add another coat of mascara to your lashes and ultimately starting to feel better once you're all dressed up.

You give the mirror a small smile.

✩

Hongjoong lives in a house not even five minutes away from campus, it's smaller compared to the rest in the street with a pretty and upkept yard.

You pull your baby pink thick coat tighter around your body to protect yourself from the cold as you walk up the driveway after making sure your car is locked.

You ring the doorbell and soon enough, a very tipsy Hongjoong greets you at the front door.

"Y/N!" He loudly exclaims that it almost makes you jump in place as a surprised laugh bubbles out of you and you step into his opened arms for a quick hug.

"Hi." You greet him and quickly stabilize him as he stumbles on his own two feet.

"Sorry, sorry! The sangria is already starting to hit. Come on in!" He moves out of the way and you step inside the house.

He leads you through the narrow hallway to the open living room space which is decorated with mismatched furniture and random objects which you would expect college students to own. You fix up your pretty smile as you step inside the room filled with ruckus and laughter already.

"Guys! This is Y/N!" You snort once more at Hongjoong's loud voice, it seemed he was a bit more drunk than he let on.

"Hi." You greet cheerily and everyone lets out their own choruses of 'hey's and hi's with bright smiles that make you feel a little bit more at ease. Despite Wooyoung's words, you were still a little nervous to meet Hongjoong's friends.

"I'll introduce you to everyone later but first let's take off your coat and get you a drink!" Hongjoong sings, already heading into the direction of what you assume is the kitchen talking about guessing what your alcohol is but not before nodding at the girl sitting at the end of the couch, "Dahyun, take care of her will you? Before she runs away."

"On it!" She salutes before giving you a smile, you giggle a little bit before unzipping your coat and sliding it off of yourself.

"Oh, let me take that!" Dahyun offers, taking your coat and disappearing into the hallway before quickly returning.

You sit down on the couch next to her as she ropes you in with questions on how you know Hongjoong.

You don't miss the eyes of the guy sitting on the other end of the couch gliding up and down your body, when his eyes catch yours he's quick to look away and so are you but not before you see the faint blush on his cheeks.

A small smirk rises to your lips.

So you like people looking at you! Big deal! Everyone likes attention from time to time. Especially since you've been recently dumped by the boyfriend-who-was-never-your-boyfriend. So the fact that a good looking guy is ogling you isn't exactly something you will perceive as unwanted.

Hongjoong prances into the living room like a little housewife, carrying a tray of different drinks and placing it down on the old, wooden coffee table.

"Y/N, meet everyone!" And then he starts listing the people sitting on the couch by name. You don't remember half of them but you do remember the name of the guy that was ogling you. His name is Hyunjin.

He gives you a small grin when Hongjoong says his name.

"Aaaaand you already know Mingi!" Hongjoong finishes just as a clueless Mingi walks into the room, carrying two plastic bags filled with liquor.

Mingi looks absolutely lost before he catches sight of you and slightly falters in his footsteps. His lips quirk up in a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hi." You greet politely, not letting your eyes stay on him for a moment too long. No matter how good he looked tonight.

You dumb bitch, stop looking at him!  In your mind, that was how Miss Prudy's voice sounded.

She first appeared on your ceiling after you slept with your cousin's boyfriend, the first time.

Miss Prudy must've been an all-girl's school principal in her past life because she was always buttoned up in a black gown that went from her neck down to her ankles. Mismatched buttons for eyes and lips in the shape of a broken heart. Needles that were jabbed in a heart of her own poking straight through her gown. A tight, neat bun at the top of her head and a permanent scowl aimed at you.

Miss Prudy's biggest achievement was the fact that you didn't fuck your way through half of the college basketball team by now. She took her job, of steering you away from men that would ruin you, very seriously and she also failed at her job most of the time.

Hence, why you didn't see her often.

After making a mistake due to your horny state...you'd just think- Sorry Miss Prudy, I couldn't resist  with this one and keep it moving. Oh well.

But it's not your fault that Mingi looks so delicious in a casual sweater and jeans, hair parted and revealing his forehead for the first time since you've met him.

This really isn't the time to get horny, Park. Because you don't have anyone to call up for sex afterwards, San is gone! Remember?! You can't just hop onto someone else so soon.

And once again (unfortunately) Miss Prudy is right. You even consider listening to her this time around and maybe, you will not have sex with anyone any time soon.

Mingi carries the bags out of the living room and Hongjoong takes up the spotlight, explaining how he hooked you up with Mingi for your Computer Science assignment and making sure to place a huge emphasis on the fact that Mingi is a nerd. You only laugh in response, you're not about to tell Hongjoong now that you decided to quit taking Mingi's lessons.

The drink Hongjoong made you is too strong and you have to drive home afterwards anyway so after only two sips, you walk into the kitchen to look for something non-alcoholic for yourself.

The kitchen is cluttered and old but obviously the residents of this place make it work. You smile at the apron with inappropriate photos printed on it laying on the counter.

In the fridge, you manage to find yourself a can of soda that you decide will be your beverage of choice for the occasion.

"Didn't think I'd see you here tonight." A familiar voice stops you in your tracks as you're halfway out of the kitchen.

Mingi appears out of nowhere and leans on the counter, just a mere couple of feet away from you, nursing a drink in his hand as his eyes dance up and down your figure before they quickly look into your own.

"Hongjoong invited me." You say with your chin held up high, defenses instantly being placed high up, just in case he decides to say something again.  But his eyes on your body...its something different. New.

Get a grip, Park!

He only nods in response, lips pressing together so you can notice his dimples for the first time. God fucking dammit.

You take that as your cue to leave and you move to brush past him but just as you're above to walk away, his hand wraps gently around your elbow and it stops you in your place. You turn to him in confusion.

Mingi moves his hand away quickly, gaze meeting yours as he licks his bottom lip. His eyes drop the contact and move around the empty kitchen as you stare at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Uh, I'm sorr-" Mingi starts.

"Are there any sodas in the fridge?" A new voice interrupts and both of you turn to the source coming from the doorway that connects the kitchen with the living room.

Hyunjin.

He's even prettier up close.

And he only seems to ask you as well, his eyes not straying away from you for a second and seemingly pretending like Mingi isn't even there.

Well, well, well....You could have fun with this.

You shouldn't. Shut up, Miss Prudy.

"I took the last one actually." You wave the can in your hand as continue moving towards the door and just as you're about to pass his tall figure, you peer at him through your lashes with a quick smile, "I don't mind sharing though."

Hyunjin chuckles at that, eyes glued to you and feet following after you like a lost puppy.

"Y/N! Good that you're here, you're picking which game we play tonight!" Hongjoong cheers loudly and the rest of the room cheers as well. You chuckle at his drunken antics, despite your brows knitting in puzzlement.

"You're supposed to pull out a piece of paper to decide from that bowl over there." Hyunjin explains with a charming smile pointing to a bowl his friend was holding out and you only hum in response, not gracing him with a different response as you move to the bowl.

You dip your hand between the folded pieces of paper and pull one out, enjoying the way everyone pays attention to you in anticipation. Unfolding the paper you chuckle.

"Hide and seek." You read what the paper says, showing it to everyone in the room.

"Hide and seek it is!" A girl claps loudly, before pointing at a random guy sitting on the couch. "Minho is the first seeker!"

"Aw, man! How come it's always me?" He whines but still stands up and starts walking to the nearest corner of the room.

"Wait, we're really doing this?" You ask to anybody listening and the people nearest to you nod. Hongjoong is long gone.

"Of course, sweets!" Dahyun giggles, cheeks flushed from alcohol. "You have the entire house at your disposal."

"But I don't know my way around the house." You tell her and she pats your cheek as she coos.

"Well, then you better get a head start because Minho is about to start counting."

You dip out of the living room and by the time you're up the stairs, you can faintly hear Minho starting to count and a flood of footsteps going up and down the house as you all try to find somewhere to hide.

As you have no idea where anything is on the upper floor of the house, you run into the first empty room you find, quietly closing the door behind yourself. You don't bother turning on the light as the street lights shine through the windows and you shuffle into the built in closet, hiding yourself behind a row of jackets and shirts. The smell of the clothes is familiar.

You haven't played hide and seek since you were a child so it was kind of amusing to play it with drunk college students.

Until you hear the door opening and closing and you freeze.

You didn't know if Minho already finished counting, too lost in your thoughts but all you can hear now is footsteps approaching the closet.

You push yourself to the back as much as possible until you hit the wood of the closet. You can see someone standing in front of the closet through the gaps of the french doors and then one side is swung open.

"What are you doing?" You whisper-shout at the very familiar, tall figure that squeezes into the space next to you.

"Shhhh." Mingi moves even further into the closet, his chest almost pressing against yours.

"Don't shush me!" You whisper-yell again. "I was here first. Get out!"

"This is my room, princess." He whispers back, almost yelping as a hanger clutters to the floor. "So suck it up and learn to share."

Hongjoong and Mingi were roommates? Since when? That’s brand new information to you.

"Asshole-" Both of you freeze as you hear the door opening.

You hold your breath as footsteps are heard walking across the floor and Mingi slowly places a hand hand against the wooden board right next to your waist, to keep his stability.

The footsteps go from side of the room to the other and stop for a second by the bed. It seems like Minho himself is a little bit too drunk because he forgets to check the closet, instead, after a couple of more seconds walking around the bedroom, he simply retreats out of the room and closes the door behind himself.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, forehead almost coming in contact with Mingi's chest before you straighten yourself out.

"He went into Hongjoong's room next." Mingi whispers and you look up at him. Minho must've turned on some light, maybe a lamp in the room you were in and forgot to turn it off before he left because there is light seeping through the spaces of the french door.

Your eyes roam over Mingi's face as he concentrates on hearing if Minho found anyone.

He really was quite handsome.

Especially his lips. You think they're his best feature. They were really distracting actually. Pink, plush and so, so inviting.

You wonder how it would feel like-

Y/N, don't do it! I know what you're thinking and do not do it! You could almost hear Miss Prudy's voice as you licked your own lips, Do not kiss this guy! You just got out of one mess-

But Mingi is so close, just a touch away. And he smells so good. And he's so tall and just so fucking sexy.

Y/N, listen to me! You will get hurt agai-

You reach up on your tiptoes but he's so tall that you manage to only catch his lower lip, placing a simple kiss to it. His lips part in surprise as a shaky breath escapes him.

Then, when his eyes meet your own, it dawns onto you what you've just done and your eyes grow wide as saucers.

"Oh my God." You whisper as you move away, completely mortified by your own actions. "I am...I am so, so sorr-"

You don't get to finish your sentence because Mingi's hand comes up to the back of your neck and he leans down, catching your mouth in a mind-numbing kiss.

Mingi kisses you and heat pools low in your belly. His free hand wrapped around yours which gripped his sweater as you pulled him closer, his thumb slowly rubbing the inside of your wrist.

You gasped against his mouth before kissing him again and he makes the softest sound which only makes you melt against him more. He tilts his head to the side, the hand on your neck traveling to your hair as he nudges your mouth open and his tongue meets yours.

Sorry Miss Prudy, you think, I couldn't resist with this one.

[berryunho]

taglist :]

@knucklesdeepmingi @atzcoke @kpopnightingale @ferrethyun @floatingpluto @avantalem @marievllr-abg @dysftopia @kodzukein @the-maze-of-books @dogsongy @calirix @sankatchu @harusoraa @raspberryhong @marsattacks @actuallyalien @bae4choi @babygurl-hoshi @superheros-and-others @dreams-in-progress @uncoveredsun @realrya @hegdus @xnoelle127x @yang2sfishkeeper @sollumi @httpsmultifandom @wooyoungjpg @itsokaytobedumb00 @alienvibecheck @savluvsmingi

THE ANSWER: XXIV

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 10,791

“What the hell did you say to Hongjoong?” 

Seonghwa is quick to start grilling you as soon as San leaves the two of you alone, glaring at you across from the dinner table. It takes you a few seconds to even remember what he could be referring to, that conversation with Hongjoong taking the back seat in your mind to everything else that had happened today. 

You set your spoon down, resting your elbows on the table, “I could be asking you the same question.” 

Seonghwa scoffs, mirroring your actions. He leans over the table, though, getting closer to you, “Well I asked first.” 

Frowning, you look him up and down, trying to make him squirm a little bit. Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t seem to find you very intimidating. In fact, he only leans closer to you, his face basically taking up your entire field of view. “What did Hongjoong say that I said?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flit to your lips, but you pretend like you don’t notice. “He said that you told him we had sex. Among other things.” 

“I said no such thing,” you glare back at him, “I only heavily implied it.” 

“Why?” Seonghwa wets his lips, “do you want to get me in trouble, Princess?” 

You don’t want to be the one to back down from this confrontation, but being this close to Seonghwa without him touching you might actually make you insane. His stupid fucking hot ass fucking face. It’s too distracting. 

But… you’re more stubborn than you are uncomfortable. “Only if you want to get me in trouble.” He smiles a bit at that, but you continue, “if you must know, though, I had to use you as a bit of a scapegoat. I figured you wouldn’t mind, considering the lies you’re telling him about San and me.” 

“Lies?” Seonghwa says sarcastically, “what ever would I lie about?” The question is clearly rhetorical.

But you answer it anyway. “You told him that San and I are together.” 

Seonghwa’s smile grows, “and is that a lie? Aren’t you?” 

“Frankly, it’s not Hongjoong’s business, and it’s not yours, either.”

He brings a hand up to rest under his chin, shrugging his free shoulder. “Difference of opinion. Why should I lie to Hongjoong for you?” 

“Well, San and I aren’t together,” you shrug as well, hoping he’s not picking up on the fact that you’re lying through your teeth. It’s actually a bit… uncomfortable to lie about it like this. You don’t want to have to deny… whatever it is that you have going on with San, but that’s just how it is. You suck it up and hope that Seonghwa can’t see your internal battle as you spit the words out.

Seonghwa bites his lip, “is that so? So he wouldn’t mind if I…” 

You do lean back, then, smacking his elbow out from under him so that his head falls, hopefully shocking him back into reality. “You wish, pervert.” 

He catches his head before he actually hits it on the table, gaping at you, his eyes wide as if he can’t believe that you really just did that. Honestly, you’re kind of surprised that you did it, too. Seonghwa is so fucking tempting. But you’re stronger than that…

“Plus, what would he think,” you tip your head in Hongjoong’s direction, not surprised to see him already staring directly at the two of you. He had been congregating with some of the Followers, but his attention is now clearly occupied, a sneer appearing on his face when he catches you looking. “He already thinks we had sex, no?” 

Seonghwa looks back over his shoulder to glance at Hongjoong, quickly spinning back to face you when he sees the look on his leader’s face. “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. I had the time of my life trying to explain that I had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.” 

You shrug, “I needed some way to get his mind off of the fact that someone told me about Haneul. It worked.” 

His eyes really go wide, then, “Haneul? Who the fuck told you about Haneul?” 

“You did.” You smile, finally picking your spoon back up to eat some more of your soup. This is a damn good soup, you have to remember to compliment Wooyoung on it… if you guys are on speaking terms. You’re not sure about that. 

Seonghwa groans, also resuming eating his dinner. “I’m going to get my ass handed to me, Princess. Why wouldn’t you just tell him the truth?” He pauses, dropping his spoon back into his soup, “ wait, let me guess. San told you?” 

You shake your head, taking another bite, ignoring his eyes.

“Who else have you been alone with?” 

You shrug again, just to piss him off. 

It doesn’t work. “When San attempted to help Haseul with the escapade last night, did he have someone watch you?” Seonghwa smiles in disbelief. “He really covered his bases. Who was it?” He searches your face as if the answer will be plastered on it. 

It might be, frankly. “It had to have been Wooyoung. Am I right, Princess? Wooyoung watched you? And told you? How on earth did you get that out of him?” 

Staying silent, you opt to keep eating your soup. Wooyoung is the obvious choice, looking at the people that San is close enough to trust with such a secret, so it makes sense that Seonghwa would be able to guess him so easily. But you’re not about to tell Seonghwa that he’s right, so you do your best to keep your face plain. 

“Oh, this is quite fun information. What else did he tell you? Did you see his back?” 

That must be what Wooyoung had been referring to, where his scars are. But, again, you’re not going to ask questions or make Seonghwa believe that he’s right. The last thing that you want to do is throw Wooyoung under the bus for spilling cult secrets that he clearly shouldn’t have. 

Seonghwa leans closer again, whispering, “if I promise to not tell Hongjoong, will you tell me? I’m very curious.” 

You also lean in closer, putting your spoon down once more, “absolutely not. But will you tell me about Haneul?” 

He rolls his eyes, leaning back into his original position. “No, I won’t. She’s quite a sore subject around here.” 

… Yeah, you could’ve guessed that. “Can you at least tell me about Jongho and her?” 

“No?” Seonghwa looks at you like you’ve really lost your mind, “that’s not your business, Princess.” 

“Oh, so their relationship isn’t my business, but my relationship with San is yours?” 

“So you admit to having a relationship with San, then?” Seonghwa smirks, pleased to have finally gotten something out of you.

You sigh, “if you’re jealous, you can just say so.” 

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “why on earth would I be jealous of Choi San? If I wanted you so badly, you would be with me.”

You try to make yourself look disgusted at the mere prospect, “that’s bold, even for you.” You say this like the two of you had never been intimate. 

Seonghwa shrugs, looking you up and down before leaning closer once more. “If anything, I’m jealous of his ability to disregard Hongjoong’s orders.” The meaning of this admission isn’t lost on you.

You can’t resist returning the look, letting your eyes linger on the way the sleeves of his shirt strain around his biceps. Personally, you don’t give a damn about Hongjoong’s “orders,” but you’re not about to let Seonghwa win this by giving into him. And you have San to worry about. You lean in closer as well, smiling at Seonghwa. 

“You’re a pervert,” you whisper, keeping the smile plastered on your face. 

Seonghwa smiles, too, despite scoffing at your comment, “that’s really cute, coming from you, Princess.” 

“What is?” San’s voice appears from your side, making the both of you jump backward from each other. 

Seonghwa keeps the nasty smile on his face, looking up at San, “perfect timing, San. If you’d left her alone with me any longer…”

San gives you a puzzled look, sliding onto the seat next to you. He doesn’t get himself a meal, which is… a little strange, but you ignore it, going back to eating your own. 

He ignores Seonghwa’s comment easily. “I couldn’t miss the announcement, could I?” San asks Seonghwa, smiling tightly across the table. 

“Announcement?” You ask, looking between the two of them.

Seonghwa holds a hand up before San can start explaining. “You’ll see, Princess.” He smiles at you like you’re not going to like this announcement at all. “But, San, pray tell, where did you just run off to?” 

San gives you a sideways glance, and you can only imagine that he probably was doing something that you wouldn’t exactly care for. “I had a conversation that needed to be held, privately.” 

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows, “is that so? What ever about? Whomever with?” He asks these questions as if he knows perfectly well their answers, but wants to hear San admit it anyhow. “Why couldn’t your dear (Y/n) be in attendance?” 

You honestly aren’t really sure what San means, but the only explanation that you can think is… he apologized to Mingi? That would honestly make you rather happy, though, so you’re not sure why he wouldn’t want to say it in front of you. Maybe Seonghwa truly doesn’t know, and he wants to keep it that way? You’re honestly not too bothered by the fact that he doesn’t want to say. 

Before San can respond, the cafeteria falls completely silent. 

You twist in your seat to face the front of the room, not at all surprised to see Hongjoong standing there, his hands folded behind his back. He still has that weird outfit on, the ties of the robe dangling down, brushing against his knees with each small movement he makes. 

He looks to you, then, giving you a sideways smile before turning back to address the room. 

“It is with great joy that I make this announcement tonight.” The cafeteria is just as silent as the chapel. You look around, not at all surprised to see that not a single pair of eyes aren’t on Hongjoong. “Finally, we are prepared to start our harvest season.” 

A gentle applause starts, much like the kind you would expect at some sort of… gala, or something. Hongjoong holds a hand up and it immediately halts, everyone in the room once again waiting with baited breath. “Of course, this indicates the start of prosperous times for our group,” he gives you another glance, “but it also invites upon us some of the most troublesome ceremonies and events, as well as opening the door to… unwelcome possibilities.” 

… Yeah, whatever the hell that means. 

“As harvest will commence in the morning, our first event will happen during our morning gathering. I expect everyone to be in attendance, including children and those otherwise excused. It’s important that we are united as a group, as you all very well know.”

Everyone? Does that include Haseul? Surely it does, even if she hasn’t had a Choosing Ceremony. You want to believe that you’ll get to see your friend, but… You’re not sure. Hongjoong probably will keep her from you as long as he can; keep you on his little leash until he’s decided that you’re obedient enough again.

He waits, holding the attention of the room for a second longer, a tense look on his face. “You all must know that I don’t say these things to scare you. But the harvest season is trying for the Sign, and our connection is in peril every second that…” Hongjoong clears his throat around the words. “That we leave it unguarded. Those participating in the morning ceremony will be notified tonight.” 

With that, he turns away from the center of the cafeteria, eyes locking onto your table. Conversation picks back up as he strides toward the three of you, a smile replacing the tenseness. 

“Let me guess,” you say to neither Seonghwa nor San in particular, “I’m about to be notified of something?” 

Seonghwa smirks, “you can be so bright sometimes.” 

“(Y/n)!” Hongjoong calls your name when he’s a few feet away, closing the distance enough to rest a hand on your shoulder before asking, “Are you excited for your first harvest?” 

You blink up at him, amazed that he still even bothers, “you just made it sound like something to be weary of, rather than excited for.” 

He shrugs, squeezing your shoulder once before releasing you to sit next to Seonghwa. “We haven’t covered the Guardians yet.” 

“The what now?” 

Hongjoong waves his hand in the air to dismiss your question, “you’ll learn in due time.”

For a second, you think that Seonghwa even rolls his eyes, but that would be truly unfathomable. You’re happy enough to write off whatever the fuck the ‘Guardians’ are. The last thing you want right now is another lesson in cult lore.

“Anyhow,” he clasps his hands, resting them on the table. “You’ll be participating in the ceremony tomorrow. Its a fun one, too.” 

You look at San, though he’s looking anywhere but at you. Turning back to Hongjoong, you ask, “do I get to know what this ceremony entails ahead of time, or are you going to surprise stab me again?” You’re honestly surprised by how bold you feel, given everything that’s happened. Maybe seeing him cry reduces him a little bit… no, that’s not it. Whatever it was, you’re just not feeling particularly intimidated by Hongjoong at the moment, surprisingly.

Hongjoong waves a hand in the air, “there’s no need to be so dramatic, (Y/n).”

Honestly, you still think it was a fair question. But you feel lucky that he’s clearly in the bantering mood as well.

“You’ve already been Chosen; you won’t have to prove yourself again,” San offers, albeit rather quietly and more so to himself than to you. 

“I feel that its best that you’re prepared for the ceremony,” Hongjoong ignores San’s comment, “Seonghwa can cover it with you.” 

Seonghwa jerks his head toward his leader. “I can? I thought I wa—”

Hongjoong smiles, stopping Seonghwa in his tracks. “You’ll do as I say.”

He only nods in response, turning away from Hongjoong. To your relief, he doesn’t lay a glare on you once more, returning to his meal instead. 

“San, let’s talk privately for a moment,” Hongjoong rises, beckoning San to follow him. San furrows his brows, but stands anyway, following Hongjoong until they’re out of earshot from your table.

You turn your attention back to Seonghwa. “Let me hear it.” 

He drops his spoon again, looking annoyed at the prospect of having to spend anymore time with you. “I need a copy of The Answer to properly explain it.” 

“You’re telling me you don’t keep one on yourself at all times?” 

Seonghwa blinks at you. Leaning back, he unbuttons his jacket, reaching a hand to the inside pocket. Low and behold, he pulls a copy of The Answer from the interior pocket, gently placing it onto the table between you two. 

You had been half joking. 

He buttons his jacket again, sliding his tray away from himself. Wordlessly, he picks up the book, flipping to the back pages before landing on whatever page he was searching for. He turns his wrist, showing you the page.

Highlighted in yellow and underlined maybe five times is the title:

HARVEST PRACTICES

The chapter that follows is broken into a few different sections, from what you can see on the pages in view. The first subtitle reads:

INVOCATION AND PROTECTION

“Your hand is shaking too much for me to read that,” you complain, grabbing the book from Seonghwa’s hands. You slide your own tray away, setting the book on the table to read. 

The text continues.

Perhaps one of the most strenuous times a year comes during harvest season. Though the crop can be bountiful and the blessings many, there are also dangers that follow. This implicates the necessity to instate a protective guard around our group; a ward to protect ourselves so as to protect our Clones. 

On the first day of the harvest, the following ceremony must be conducted to insure safety throughout the season. The steps are outlined here; however HONGJOONG may adapt these provisions as he sees fit per the requirements of the year. 

Typical ceremony regalia should be worn by all Followers. Ten Followers are chosen at random to participate in the ceremony.

Participation is mandatory once selected; certain Followers may be required to participate every year due to their given role in Universe One. 

At 6 A.M. The ceremony begins. The ten Followers link hands in a circle.

They recite the following incantation, taking three steps to the left following each break.

On this day we make our vow.

The Answer is near; we shall not wonder or fear.

I myself am mighty and true. My blood will protect and provide anew

The barrier is weak.

United, we cast away the evil that would do us harm. We uninvite the spirits that dance between this Universe and the next.

Following the incantation, each member shall raise their hands. The ceremonial blade is presented, and each Follower shall gently open their left palm, letting the blood drop into the center of the circle while reciting:

I offer this vessel of myself for the betterment of the community. My blood banishes the evil from them, and calls it toward me. I swear this today and everyday.

At the completion of each vow, the final words will be said:

We call upon you to stay away.

The Sacrifice will then be presented. It is to be left on the altar for one day.

This is the conclusion of the ceremony.

This ceremony is not infallible. Should trouble arise before, during, or after, HONGJOONG and designated Followers will resolve the issue. 

You stop reading, looking up at Seonghwa. “Sacrifice?”

He nods. 

“That’s, like, pretty cliche,” you frown, “and that rhyme sucks.” 

“Be more respectful.” Seonghwa mirrors your frown, “Hongjoong isn’t a poet, he’s a prophet.” 

“Really? I thought he was God?” 

Seonghwa only gives you a more exasperated look, rolling his eyes.

You scan over the ceremony again, trying to make sure you’re getting the details correct. “What’s this about ‘calling the evil towards me?’ And the blood? Is that really necessary?” 

He glances over your shoulder, a relieved expression gracing his features, “San, you have a knack for perfect timing today.”

You turn to look back and, sure enough, San is approaching your table again. 

San looks between you, Seonghwa, and the copy of The Answer in your hands, putting the pieces together. “Questions?” 

“A few,” you mutter, suddenly not very interested. You don’t mind pestering Seonghwa for answers to all of your questions, but you aren’t keen on asking San the same way. “But it can wait. What did Hongjoong want?”

San takes his place next to you again, shrugging as he does so. “He was just letting me know the plan for tomorrow.” 

Seonghwa reaches for his book, plucking it out of your hands before you can respond to San. “I trust you won’t be needing my copy, anymore.” 

Resisting the urge to mock him, you respond to San instead. “Such as…?”

“When to be there, how to help you dress, so on.” 

So on… Why does it feel like there’s a lot more emphasis on the ending of that list? They had been gone for a good five minutes, there had to be more than that, surely. Why wouldn’t San tell you the whole truth? What good would that do for him? 

You stay quiet, trying to ignore your suspicions. If you can’t trust San, who can you trust? 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

It turns out that you have to wake up significantly more early than usual.

San shakes you awake at four, ignoring your pleas for five more minutes. “I waited as long as I could, (Y/n).” 

You grumble and moan, but find it in yourself to get out of bed. For Haseul. That’s what you tell yourself. All of this is for Haseul. Your cooperation is for her. Had she not been here, you’d be kicking and screaming the whole way. 

But, unfortunately, Hongjoong figured out how to play you like a damn fiddle. So here you are, tugging on the same black dress pants that you had put on… what, three weeks ago? A month ago? Longer? You have no idea. 

You manage to button your shirt correctly this time, though your face burns at the memory of Seonghwa having to help you dress. What had happened to you? You never would have thought that the day would come where you would voluntarily wear this… cult regalia. 

San watches, already fully dressed by the time that he woke you up. You have to admit that he looks handsome in all black, the clothes clearly tailored to fit him. Two or three silver necklaces hang down his chest, matching rings gracing his fingers. He hasn’t put his mask on, yet, or his hat, leaving his features exposed in the security of your apartment. 

“Let me help,” he offers, squatting to his knees to help you tie your boots as you pull them on. He ties your right shoe as you tie your left, lacing them with the deftness of well-trained hands. 

Of course, he finishes before you do. He takes over tying your left shoe, smiling up at you as you yield the laces to him. “Thank you.” 

He only pats your knee, standing back up and offering his hand to you. You take it and rise as well, glancing at the clock. 4:29. 

The ceremony starts at 6. You’re not really sure why you have to be in positions so early, but… whatever. You’re not going to fight it. You can do this, you’re sure of it. For Haseul, you’ll do it. 

San opens the wardrobe, grabbing your two hats off of the top shelf. Had you ever noticed them sitting there? You’re not sure. Maybe someone had brought them in. 

He hands you yours, swirling his around on his finger instead of putting it on. “How are you feeling?” 

You put the hat on. “Fine.” 

“You sure?” He sounds genuine enough, and you don’t doubt that he’s at least a little worried for you. And, obviously, given the circumstances with Haseul… 

“I just hope I don’t fuck up.” 

San frowns, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. 

“Everything will be fine,” he promises, rubbing your hand with his. “It’ll be over before you know it!” 

Forcing a smile, you nod. He’s probably right. If you just grit your teeth and bare it, the whole thing will be over as quickly as you can say the stupid little incantation. There’s no reason to be afraid or worried. 

… That’s what you really want to believe. But you can’t bring yourself to think that it will actually be that easy. Something is going to happen. Something bad. You’re sure of it, now, in this moment. You’re more sure of it than anything else. 

Hongjoong won’t just let this happen. He won’t just let this pan out easily. He has something planned, and you’re sure that it’s something terrible…

The sacrifice mentioned in the steps… you had never had the chance to ask about it. Something is going to happen then, you’re sure. At the moment of the sacrifice or the moment that it’s presented, it’s going to be something beyond even your imagination. 

Hongjoong’s insanity knows no bounds, and that is something that you know for a positive fact. He can’t just have something go well or normally when you’re involved. He will have to stick his fingers in the pie, have to meddle to make something happen. 

Your stomach flips as you consider the possibilities. You suddenly feel woozy. 

“Hey,” San calls your attention back to the moment at hand, grabbing your other arm with his free hand. “Are you alright?” 

You blink at him, “Just a little lightheaded is all.” 

“Do you want something to eat?” He starts to pull you toward the kitchenette, but the thought of eating only makes your stomach feel heavier. 

Planting your feet, you shake your head. “No, no, I’m fine. I just want to get this over with.”

You’re not lying. If something is going to happen (when something is going to happen), you would rather just have it be done and have it be over. 

Whatever it is, you’re sure that you can survive it. You’ve made it this far without losing your wits or dying, you’re sure that you can make it through a ten minute ordeal. Even if it is particularly nasty or horrible. 

Fuck, you just hope the sacrifice isn’t a person. You’re, like, sixty percent sure that it won’t be, but… that forty percent is still a question mark. At least you know it won’t be you. 

That’s probably not the right mindset. But, hey, that’s life, isn’t it? 

San looks between you and the clock, looking disappointed. “I guess we don’t really have time, anyhow. I’m sorry.” He apologizes, dropping his hands from you. 

You brush off the apology, following him as he leaves the room and approaches your door. 

“You’re sure that you’re okay?” San asks again, pausing by your front door. “I can make up some excuse if I have to.” 

You don’t have to force a smile, this time. “I’m going to be fine as soon as this is over.” 

He nods in acceptance, opening the door and holding it open for you.

The two of you head to the chapel in silence, other Followers wearing their all-black regalia crowding the hallways and stairwells. A few people smile and wave at you, though you can’t really say that you recognize them. 

As you squeeze through the halls, you wonder where Haseul is being kept. In one of the single rooms, you’re sure, but which one… 

You almost have the urge to start knocking on every door on the women’s floor, jangle each doorknob and greet each person until you find her…

But that would be silly, and you know that. You’d only be punished if you went looking for her. Worse, she would probably be punished for your stupidity, too. 

That’s not going to happen. 

So you fight the feeling, just as you fought your panic. Your stomach is still a wreck as you follow San. You don’t hold his hand, not in public, but you wish that you could grab him for some semblance of comfort. 

He would take your hand if you tried, you realize. Clearly, he doesn’t have much of an issue speaking about your relationship, at least with Mingi. 

The memory of their argument brings a sour expression to your face. You’re still not very pleased with how San had acted, or with how Mingi had, either. Even after the apology… 

And San never confirmed that he apologized to Mingi. Well, you had never asked him. 

But whatever. That has to be a problem for another day, for another you. Or at least for the you of three hours from now. You can’t go into this being pissed at basically the only two people that you like here. 

That doesn’t give much credit to Nayeon or Yunho or Wooyoung or Yeosang, you realize, but whatever. You don’t need to be debating who your friends are and who your friends aren’t.

After what happened with Wooyoung, anyways, would you really consider him a friend? Had you really processed any of what he had told you? What the fuck.

Your head swims with the reality of everything that has been happening to you in the past couple days. You’ve experienced enough goddamn trauma to let Dr. Phil run another 12 seasons on you alone. Fucking hell. Literally what the fuck.

You finally reach the big doors, relishing the feeling of stepping into the cool outside air. The hallways had been stuffy with the weight of all of the Followers, and the sudden breeze is refreshing; especially given your fucking outfit. 

The sun hasn’t even poked above the horizon, yet. You wouldn’t even call it dawn. But you don’t have to squint to make out the chapel in this distance. 

The sea of Followers in front of you lead the way to the holy place, a swarm of black across the farm. 

You wonder how many of them there really are. If Hongjoong said that everyone had to attend this ceremony… fuck. There’s a lot of people. Just the people you can see outside seem to outnumber what you would have originally thought. 

How in the world had Hongjoong recruited so many people? 

How many of these people actually believed every word that he said? You’d have to assume most of them. What would they do to make him happy? To keep him happy? 

The thought sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine, only making your stomach worse.

The walk isn’t long, and you soon find yourself passing the doors that are being held open by the swarm of people crowding through them. 

It’s fuller than you’ve ever seen it, the chapel. Some people are already seated in the pews, chatting with their peers. The majority of the Followers, however, are still standing, mingling in the aisle.

You follow San’s lead, presuming that he’ll take you wherever you need to be. He goes about halfway to the front of the chapel, stopping in a less-populated area of the aisle in what you assume is an attempt to make you calmer. You’re not sure that it helps, but you appreciate the gesture, anyhow.

You wonder who the other Followers that were chosen for the ceremony are. Will anyone that you know be up there to comfort you? It probably wouldn’t make a difference, but at least one familiar face would be welcome. 

As you glance around the room, you find your eyes tugging toward the Sign of the Answer, the huge one on the wall. Hongjoong’s chair is gone in preparation for the ceremony, so you’re able to see it in all of its glory. Per usual, the chapel is lit by candles, and the light glints off of the Sign exactly how you remember it looking the night that you had been Chosen. The memory makes you more nervous.

San puts a hand on your arm, calling your attention back to him. You glance at his face first, only to see him looking ahead as someone approaches. For a split second, you’re worried that its going to be Mingi. 

But it’s only Wooyoung, you realize. 

He stops in front of you, two glasses in his hands. “Hello,” he greets you, looking between the two of you.

San returns the hello, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. Something about the sight of him disturbs you. And the glasses in his hands.

He gets straight to business.

“Drink this,” Wooyoung holds out a champagne glass filled with something that is decidedly not champagne. Instead of sparkling, yellow liquid, this is a flat, blood red. 

You hesitantly take the stem, tilting the glass to watch the liquid move. Thankfully, it doesn’t actually seem to be blood. You take a sniff, not all that surprised to smell the familiar red wine scent. 

“It’s just wine. For the nerves.”

Shrugging, you take a sip. He’s not lying, but… “Last time you fed me in this room you also drugged me.” 

Wooyoung mirrors your shrug. “Don’t drink it then.”

You glance at San, who also shrugs. 

“Well fuck it, then.” In an action reminiscent of your college days, you down the glass; ignoring the bitterness as best you can. 

Wooyoung takes the glass back from you. “Good luck, then.” 

He excuses himself, wandering back into the crowd with the other glass. You assume that he’s handing them out to all of the participating Followers, but you opt to stop watching him to look back at San.

“Do you think that was drugged?” You ask San, rubbing your palms on your jacket. 

His eyes go wide, “I wouldn’t have let you drink it if I thought it was!” 

“I’m not sure I trust Hongjoong that much.” 

“I do.” San puts a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently. His words don’t offer you any comfort, but the hand is pleasant enough.

Well, you’ll know soon enough, anyhow. Maybe this would all go a lot more smoothly if you were drugged, somehow. Your heart feels like a damn jackhammer in your chest.

You try to look around, wanting to spot any familiar face in the crowd for any sense of comfort. It’s just so damn hard with everyone dressed like the fucking grim reaper. You think that you spot Nayeon, briefly, her long brown hair contrasting beautifully to the fitted black of her coat. 

Yunho is hard to miss, his height only exaggerated by the hat atop his head. You’re not entirely sure where you stand with him, though, given your place with Mingi. If Mingi’s still pissed at you (which, to give him credit, you’re not sure if he is), Yunho probably is too. 

Speaking of Mingi, he approaches Yunho, his own height rather hard to miss in the crowd. He grabs his friend’s shoulder, exclaiming something that’s a bit too quiet for you to make out. But you know Mingi’s voice when you hear it. 

After this, you have to talk to Mingi. Even though you might be a little… upset? Disappointed? At his outburst and his childish behavior, you have to make things right by him. Yunho, too, you suppose. 

You still hold out hope that Haseul will make an appearance, though you’re sure Hongjoong made arrangements to keep her away. Though… if Mingi is here, who's watching her? It probably wouldn’t be hard to find someone else, but someone else that Hongjoong trusted that much… that’s a different story. You know that you should probably just drop it, but there’s something in you that feels like she’ll show up… you certainly have a lot of feelings, this morning. 

A hand wraps around your elbow, startling you. You don’t have to look to recognize Hongjoong, his touch alone enough to identify him, burning hot even through your jacket.

“(Y/n),” he purrs, holding you close to him, “how are you feeling?” 

You try to pull your arm away, to no avail. “Like I’m going to be sick.” 

Hongjoong laughs, “you’ll be completely fine. You’re not the sacrifice.” 

That doesn’t do anything to calm your nerves. That’s not what you’re worried about. And you’d rather not have to play one of his stupid games. “I have a sense that some anvil is about to fall on my head.” 

“Hmmm,” he hums, “maybe. Maybe not. It depends on what you’re picturing.”

“I’m picturing what you wrote in The Answer.” You force the words out through gritted teeth. It’s so fucking annoying when he does this; when he doesn’t just speak his mind. You’d much prefer him telling you that, yeah, you’re about to be grievously harmed than have him just dangle the thought in front of your eyes.

“Well, either way, I’m sure you understand what will happen if you disrupt the ceremony.” Hongjoong’s voice is laced with that sickening smile of his, “or if you fail to complete your part in it.” 

He’s right, he doesn’t need to remind you in the slightest. You can only imagine the fear that Haseul is in right now, but your own fear for her must be ten times worse. The idea of Hongjoong putting his hands on her makes your gut churn.

The fact that he backed you into such a perfect corner is almost sickening. It pisses you off to no end. Why did he have to bring her into this? Not that you would want him to use this treatment on Mingi, but, like, fuck, he at least already had him here. Was it really necessary to involve a completely innocent girl? 

If you didn’t care what happened to her, you might just spit in the man’s face at this very second. 

“I get it, Hongjoong.” 

“Then you’ll do great!” He releases your arm, opting to pat your shoulder a couple times. “Simply stick to the outline. Do your part. And it’ll be over quickly.” 

You take a deep breath, “Hongjoong,” you hope that saying his name will make him listen to you, “can I see her, afterword?” 

His hand stops on your shoulder, squeezing. “Let’s see how you fare, first.” His voice seems harder with these words, more sharp. Hopefully that wasn’t some sort of huge overstep to him. 

He cuts off the conversation at that, leaving your side to rejoin the crowd of Followers. He’s wearing the same outfit he had been wearing yesterday, the shiny material catching the light of the candles ever so as he moves. 

“San,” you turn toward where San was standing, only to find him gone. You whirl around in a circle in a way that must look comical, searching for where he could have gone off to. He doesn’t appear to be in your near vicinity, somehow completely, wordlessly disappeared. 

Dread swirls in your stomach. You were going to ask him if he knew what the sacrifice was going to be, finally reminded.

As if commanded by some outside force, the majority of the Followers suddenly stop their conversations. The room falls silent as people make their ways to their usual pews, sliding silently into their seats. 

Per usual, you’ve been left out of the loop. 

Without San to guide you into place, you really have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing. You look toward the front of the chapel, expecting to find Hongjoong glaring at you, but not even he is there to tell you what to do. 

Looking around to the other Followers that are still standing, you’re mildly surprised to see Yunho only a couple feet away. He catches your eye, tipping his head toward the front of the room in signal. He starts walking, so you start walking. 

You’re hyper aware of the sound of your footsteps on the wood floors, your boots clicking with each step. Yunho’s do, too. The steps are the only sound in the chapel. 

With bated breath, you reach the front of the room. You glance toward your usual pew, hoping to see San sitting in your spot. He’s not, however, only making the rock in your stomach that much heavier. 

Yunho steps up onto the little stage, offering you his hand to help with the step up. You take it, joining him and turning toward the congregation of Followers. From this angle, you can see… it takes you a second to count the heads… eight other Followers approaching the stage. You try to find Hongjoong among them, but he’s not there. Neither is San.

After what feels like forever, Yunho and yourself are joined by the others. You read this part, you feel okay about it. Well, not okay okay, but, like, you know. At least you know what to expect. 

Yunho grabs your left hand, as someone you can’t recall the name of takes the place to your right; taking that hand into theirs. 

The ten of you link into a circle, hand-in-hand. 

You had kind of expected there to be more guidance from Hongjoong in this process. A narration or a sort of sermon over the top of your actions, but Hongjoong remains unseen and unheard as the Followers around you start their recitation. 

“On this day we make our vow,” you don’t jump into the speech until the next sentence, unsure of how they knew that it was time to start. “From henceforth we pledge ourselves.”

You take three steps to your left. The Sign of the Answer twinkles in your peripheral vision. The Followers in the pews have their heads bowed. 

“The Answer is near. We shall not wonder or fear.” 

Three more steps. 

“I myself am mighty and true. My blood will protect and provide anew.” 

Three more steps to the left. This time, you almost step on Yunho’s toes. You try to look at the other Followers in your circle, but their heads are similarly bowed. You look back down at your feet. You’re lightheaded. 

“The barrier is weak.”

Your hands float upwards, along with the rest of the circle’s. Still connected, everyone’s hands hang in the air of the center of the circle. 

“United, we cast away the evil that would do us harm. We uninvite the spirits that dance between this Universe and the next.” 

Someone, you’re not sure who, breaks the circle first. Your eyes are closed, you realize. You open them only when Yunho’s hand leaves your own; barely hearing his hushed whispering at your side. Before you know it, the knife is in your own hands. 

It’s already sparkling with blood. At least Yunho’s. The lowlight makes it hard to see, but the Sign of the Answer does a beautiful job of illuminating just enough to reawaken your nausea. What the fuck is happening, right now? What the fuck are you about to do?

Yunho’s blood drips down the blade and onto your hand. It’s warm. 

You’re sure that you’re going to faint. 

But you hold the blade to your left hand, anyways, saying the words as quietly as you can. Surely, this is all just some batshit insane cult ceremony, but the weight of speaking them outloud is still sickening. 

“I offer this vessel of myself for the betterment of the community. My blood banishes the evil from them, and calls it toward me. I swear this today and everyday.” 

You swipe the blade across your palm, handing it off to the Follower next to you as fast as you can manage. You close your eyes again. Your hand burns. You almost think that you can hear your blood, dropping from your palm and hitting the floor.

At some point, the last person finishes. The knife clatters to the floor, the only sound in the chapel. You know to take three more steps to the left. And to finish the words. 

“We call upon you to stay away.” 

The scream makes you open your eyes. 

Disorientated, you realize that you’re facing away from the crowd, staring directly at the Sign. But it’s not glowing anymore. 

You turn around, blinded. Every candle in the chapel has gone out.

Was that the source of the scream? The lights going out? What the fuc—

The door behind the stage slams open. You jump again, spinning back as though you’d be able to see anything, anyhow. 

Someone in the audience wails. 

Are they seeing something that you’re not? Your heart pounds hard, so so hard. Is this panic? The spell? A heart attack? 

You need to sit down. Yunho grabs your hand before you can stumble off of the stage. He pulls you behind him, keeping the arm behind his back to hold you there. 

You fist the back of his coat, probably soiling the material with your blood, but it’s all you can do to keep yourself standing upright. The urge to vomit hits you again, but you prevail, closing your eyes as tight as you can. 

Is this supposed to happen? This wasn’t in the outline. Are you meant to feel like such shit right now?

How did all of the candles go out?

Who the fuck is interrupting? 

Something, or someone, drops in the middle of the circle. 

You open your eyes again, peering around Yunho. The rest of the circle had stayed in place. 

At the center of your circle, now, is a head. 

Not a human head, thank God, but a pig’s. Your stomach still revolts, still tumbling over and over itself as you slide back into your spot in the circle. You clamp onto Yunho’s hand like its the only thing that you’ve ever known, grounding yourself the only way that you can. 

Its still so dark. You close your eyes again

You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do now. Is it over? You hope to God that its over. You can’t take another goddamned minute of thi—

You open your eyes at the same instant that Yunho yells. Everything happens so fucking fast. 

Yunho falls backward, off of the stage. You process this secondly. Chiefly, however, your attention is caught by the figure now in front of you, where the pig head had been seconds before. 

It’s huge. You can’t comprehend it entirely, what it is that you’re seeing. It doesn’t even look human. It grabs your now vacant hand, pulling you away from the Followers. 

There’s a collective scream behind you, and you’re not surprised to realize that you’re also screaming. 

You try to look into the face. But it doesn’t have a face. It’s nothing. Is this death? 

You’re falling backwards, now. Before you know it, you’re on the ground, curling in on yourself.

Someone turns the overhead lights on. You cradle your hands to your chest, aware of the fact that you’re crying. The tears are hot on your cheeks. The blood is hot on your hands. The feeling of that, that, fucking thing making you want to retch. 

What the fuck was that? What the fuck? 

Hongjoong appears at your side, his face blurry. From your tears, from the panic? You’re not sure. 

He asks if you’re okay. You can’t answer him. You close your eyes again.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

In your sleep, you see it again. 

Even in this instance, you can’t tell what it is. It’s shaped like a person, but you can’t look directly at it. You know that if you look, it won’t have a face.

In your dream, it’s even bigger than it was. It towers over you, grabbing you over and over, your screaming and begging doing nothing to appease it. 

You can see its hands as they reach, as they latch onto you. They’re white. But they’re not skin. It’s cloth, you realize, gloves. 

The rest of it is white, too. But it certainly doesn’t look like clothing. You couldn’t ever explain it to someone if they asked, and you’re much too terrified to go digging into the details. 

All you know is that it doesn’t have a face. It’s not natural. Every part of you hates every part of this thing. 

You want to wake up.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

And so you do, in the infirmary. 

The first thing you see are the familiar ceiling tiles. The second thing is Hongjoong.

You startle awake, twitching in on yourself as you try to sit up. 

Hongjoong sucks in a breath, though he doesn’t get to his feet to help you. He’s still wearing that outfit. 

You’re still wearing yours, you realize. The pants rub uncomfortably against the blanket laying over you. You’re able to sit up easily enough, and you’re relieved to realize that nothing hurts. You feel fine.

“So, do you believe me now?” Hongjoong asks once you’re up, but he’s not smiling in triumph as you would’ve imagined.

“What the fuck was that thing?” 

Hongjoong sighs, “Exactly what I was trying to protect us from. A guardian.”

You blink at him, dumbfounded. There’s literally no fucking way in hell that Hongjoong has been right about any of this. He’s insane. He is fully, entirely, batshit insane. 

You can’t explain away whatever the fuck just happened, but you’re not about to accept that he’s been telling you the truth. That there are alternate universes and demons that can jump between them. That’s not real life. That’s not how the world works. 

Whatever just happened, whatever that was, there’s a reasonable explanation. Surely. 

Though you can’t imagine what that explanation would be, it must exist. The last fucking thing in the world that you’re going to do now is believe in Hongjoong. Like, what the fuck? What the fuck? Why would you fucking believe in a fucking religion that has fucking faceless demons fucking running around freely? You wouldn’t. You refuse. You will not. 

Even if that is the only explanation for the thing in white, you are not going to believe it. You would sooner believe that you have a hallucination disorder than accept that Hongjoong is right about anything. 

Thinking about it, you probably would have to have some sort of psychosis to accept any of this. But, then again, this is exactly the sort of thing that would trigger psychosis… 

You’re thinking way too fucking hard about this. It is simple. Hongjoong is a freak.

“Where’s San?” The question is natural. 

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, “Interesting follow-up question. I thought it best to separate you two for now.” 

“Why?” 

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he stands up. “How is your hand?” 

You had honestly forgotten about it. Holding it up, you examine your bandage. “Fine.” 

The two of you stay in silence. Hongjoong seems mad. 

“Is that really all you’re going to ask?” He asks, almost sounding whiny. Like a child. 

It’s certainly all you’re going to ask him. He’ll only lie to you. “Can I see Seonghwa?” You ask instead.

Hongjoong scoffs. He brushes his hair back, looking around the room as if he’s expecting some live studio audience to empathize with him. “I know you’re not fucking him.” 

You shrug. “Are you okay, Hongjoong?” 

His face falls flat. He crosses his arms over his chest, turning to fully face you again. “I’m great.” The words are strained. You’ve never known Hongjoong to be a bad liar. 

“You seem kinda pissed.” 

“I am not—” He closes his eyes, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “I’m fine. I’ll have Seonghwa come visit, since you clearly won’t be speaking to me.” He says this like he expects you to apologize. But what the hell would you apologize for? 

Hongjoong leaves without another word once it becomes clear that you won’t be giving him what he wants. You’re sure that he expected more crying, more fear, more begging and pleading for answers. 

You save that for once you’re sure that he’s gone.

Trembling, you pull your knees to your chest. Your fingers twitch with fear, your hair feels foreignly heavy, your wrist burns and burns where the thing had touched you. 

You refuse to believe that it was real. It cannot be real. None of this can be real. There was some trick, some show, some plan that you weren’t privy to. Seonghwa will tell you. He’ll have to tell you. He’s honest, most of the time. He’ll explain it away, he’ll tell you how Hongjoong did it and why it seemed so real. 

Where was its face? 

How had they done that? Where the fact should have been, there was nothing. You couldn’t even say that it was a color. It was a void. An emptiness. There was nothing there. 

The memory makes you dizzy. You lean back against the pillows, praying to God that you’re not going insane. Had you really seen that? You couldn’t have. Because that’s just not something that’s possible. 

If Seonghwa can’t explain this, you might go crazy. You might. What else is there to do? It wasn’t real. But the fear that you’re feeling now certainly is. 

What if it comes back? What if they make it come back? What was it? Where was its face? 

Even though whatever the fuck that was wasn’t real, the memory certainly is. You’re going to be lucky to sleep soundly one night for the rest of your damn life. What the fuck. 

Seonghwa lets himself into the room only a few minutes after Hongjoong had left. 

“You like me so much that you ask for me now?” He smirks, approaching your side. 

His face falls flat when he takes a good look at you. “Stop that. Why are you crying?” 

“Seonghwa.” You feel that it’s quite obvious why you’re crying. 

He only blinks at you. 

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice shakes with the question. 

“I—” He starts, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “Its complicated.” 

You cover your face with your hands. “Was it real? Just be honest.” 

You can’t see his reaction to your question, and he doesn’t answer it, either. 

“What was it?” You moan, hardly able to even spit the words out. To basically admit to Seonghwa that you were scared.

“I think it would be better if you talked to Hongjoo—”

“I am not talking to Hongjoong!” 

You take your hands away from your face, needing to look at him. You hate him. You hate him more than fucking anything. Why can’t he just be honest? Why is he Hongjoong’s little fucking doll? Why does he worship him to such a degree when he’s this fucking evil? Where would he draw the line? 

Seonghwa is stunned into silence. He only stares down at you.

“All I can say is that I didn’t know it was going to happen.” 

He looks blurry through your tears, only making you angrier as you recall Hongjoong looking the same way.

“Stop bullshitting me, please, Seonghwa,” you beg. “I think I’ll go insane if you don’t fucking answer me.” 

He turns away from your bed, striding to one of the medicine cabinets in an attempt to look anywhere but your face. He rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead momentarily. 

“What do you want to hear?” He asks, turning back toward you, though he keeps his distance. “Would you rather know what Hongjoong is capable of or would you rather keep the comforting thought that he’s right? Wouldn’t that just be easier for everybody?” 

“You’re saying that Hongjoong can do things scarier than the thought of fucking interdimensional demons being real?” You throw your hands out in front of you, almost yelling in frustration. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! Yes!” Seonghwa matches your tone. “He’s only going to come at you harder. He exists to make you break! Just fucking accept the truth for what he says that it is, and everything will come easily!” 

“I’m not going to do that!” 

Seonghwa laughs bitterly. “I’m sure you believe that, too, Princess.” 

You stare back at him, sure that you look insane. “Can you be genuine for one fucking second?” 

His face contorts into a scowl. “I’ve never been anything but genuine with you. You’re the one that deludes yourself.” He strides back to the door, freezing in the frame. “Is there anything else you wish to fling at me?” 

“I’m taking this to mean that it wasn’t real.” 

“If that helps you sleep at night.” 

Seonghwa leaves. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Can you bear some girl time? You’re not sure as Nayeon lets herself in, walking casually into the room as if the literal antichrist of her religion didn’t just make a physical appearance before her. 

“How are we feeling?” She asks, dragging out the vowel sounds in her question. 

“Uhm,” you look at your hand, the only injured part of your body, “fine, I guess.” 

“Perfect!” She smiles, reaching out to put her hand under yours. “The bandage looks fine. I don’t think it’ll reopen.” 

Nayeon had found time to change her clothes. She’s back to her usual farm girl outfit, smiling and happy. 

“Are you alright, Nayeon?” You ask, curious to know what a regular Follower made of what the fuck happened. 

She frowns, and then shrugs, and then smiles again. “I mean, it was, like, a bit scary. But Hongjoong made it go away, and he’s always with us, so it’s not like it can come back to hurt us. I was definitely scared at first, but then he showed up and I knew it would be okay.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, slowly. Nayeon has always been a valuable source of information for you. 

“It was just so valiant; do you remember how he saved you?” She giggles, “he still has it going for you. It’s amazing.” 

You shake your head. “I can’t say that I remember much…” Other than the fucking maw of emptiness. 

“Oh, well I got you.” She pulls up one of her rolling stools, sitting herself down right next to your bed. “So the ceremony went great. Textbook, really. But as it was finishing… I guess I’m not really sure how it happened, either. Like, one second everything was fine, and the next Yunho was on the ground— he’s fine, by the way; wind knocked out of him, but yeah, anyways— and the Guardian was there and everyone was screaming, it was so scary. I guess it grabbed you… and then Hongjoong appeared and it was like his presence just scared it away. I didn’t see what happened exactly… but the next thing I knew you were on the ground and Hongjoong was hollering for my help.” 

She shrugs. 

What you gather from that is that she didn’t see how it got there or how it left. Good signs, probably. She’d certainly remember seeing something… appear out of thin air. You almost want to smile. What a silly thought, that that could have all been real… haha… ha… yeah, funny…

“I see…” You respond, not sure what you’re supposed to say, “how much time has passed?” 

Nayeon looks at her watch, “like, three hours.” 

Great. Perfect, actually. It would be very unfortunate to find out that you had been unconscious for a week again, especially given the circumstances with Haseul. She’s probably already freaking out, but not hearing anything from you for a week… 

Is Hongjoong going to let you see her? After your brush with death? It wasn’t your fault that… whatever happened happened. Like, he planned that, not you. Surely he can’t hold this over your head. If anything, you basically almost just got kidnapped into a parallel universe, he should be treating you very kindly, right? 

Asshole. He’s probably going to bitch and moan for the next week about you not being scared of him. Fucking asshat. 

But… God, ugh, this is all so frustrating. On one hand, you’re pissed at him for, you don’t know, literally everything that he’s ever done to you, maybe? But on the other, you know that you’re going to have to play by his rules to get him to leave Haseul alone. Or, well, at least as alone as he can.

When is she going to have a Choosing ceremony, you wonder? Yours didn’t take very long… 

Well, if he doesn’t let you see her after this, at least you have that to… tentatively look forward to… ew, you don’t even want to be thinking like that. 

Nayeon stands at your side, bringing you back. 

You don’t realize why until you look behind her, only to spot Yunho standing near the doorway. 

He’s changed out of his clothes, thankfully. But just seeing him is enough to flood your mind with the thought of the thing, your stomach lurching over again as he welcomes himself into the room, clearing his throat. 

Nayeon pats his shoulder as she walks past him, excusing herself. Yunho stops at the foot of your bed. 

You have to admit that he might be one of the last people you would have expected to visit you, now. You had been thinking it before everything happened, but you don’t really think he has any lost love for you, given your circumstances with Mingi. 

“Thank you,” you break the silence, forcing the words out before you can think better of them, “for, uhm, trying to help me. And, I mean, actually helping me, too.” You can’t forget that he had kept you standing when the sacrifice was presented. How ruined is his coat?

He awkwardly looks at his hands, which are gripping the rail at the end of your bed. “Don’t mention it.” His voice is so meager that you barely can hear him. 

Yunho doesn’t look up. You’re not sure what else to say. So you speak without thinking, again. “How’s Mingi?” 

He peeks up at you, but then goes right back to staring down. “He’s… uhm, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

He pries his hands off of the rail, but then stares at them like he’s unsure that they’re even his hands. Tucking his hands behind his back, he continues, though he still doesn’t look straight at you, “I, uhm, yeah. Mingi is worried about you, and I think his worry came off the wrong way to you and San.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, slowly, and semi-sarcastically. You could’ve guessed that. “He has an interesting way of showing it.” 

Yunho takes a deep breath, “He doesn’t know that I’m here. I just thought that I would try and explain his side of things. From his perspective, he is the reason that you’re here and he feels guilty for that; but he’s also pissed that you’ve gotten close with San so quickly, because he doesn’t like him and he feels like you won’t take his concerns seriously.” 

“I don’t see what there is to be concerned about,” you plainly state, “do you have something against San, Yunho? Any reason at all to believe that Mingi could have reason to suspect that he’s not what he shows me?” 

Yunho startles when you say his name, like someone barely inhabiting their own body. “I mean, no. I think Mingi is probably just projecting his fear onto San, but don’t tell him I said that.” 

“Exactly. So why should I have to cater to Mingi’s ego?” The words sound harsh even as you say them, but its a genuine question. You don’t have much reason to believe that San would ever do anything to hurt you… besides him being someone that Hongjoong clearly trusts, but, like, you’ve been over that a million times before. 

Yunho just shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that maybe you would hear me out, since I know it’s hard for you to be alone with Mingi.” He stops his nervous fidgeting, finally looking directly at you. “I wasn’t nice to you because I harbor any sweetness towards you, for the record. I don’t even care that you’re the new object of Hongjoong’s affection. I only tried to help because I knew that, if I didn’t, Mingi would have.” His voice is harder than you’ve ever heard it; a shocking contrast to how he had been speaking just moments earlier. He maintains eye contact with you, his eyes dark. 

You’re the one to look away, this time, disturbed by what he said. What a very random and slightly disturbing thing to say. 

When you look back up at him, Yunho is already nervously looking around the room. His hands are in front of him again as he plays with his fingers. 

“Well,” you clear your throat, “thanks anyways, Yunho.” 

“Yep,” is all he says before leaving your room, basically running. 

… That was strange. Very strange. 

Nayeon doesn’t return. You’re left alone, puzzling over that entire interaction.

What… what was the point of that? Like, okay, sure you can get him wanting to try and vouch for Mingi. But… uhm??? The last part? What? Why was that so ominous? Huh? 

You had never known Yunho to be particularly timid… or… rude… This all is just very weird. Maybe even weirder than the fake demon situation. 

No, scratch that, definitely not any weirder than that. That one is gonna keep you awake for a while. A good while. But Yunho’s behavior was definitely not his usual, which is almost concerning. Almost… only because you suppose that you don’t really know him that well. Maybe he’s only really nice and outgoing to strangers… 

That wouldn’t make sense, either. 

Whatever, you really can’t be worrying about that right now. You have priorities. 

Priorities of which you would list, at least in your head, if San didn’t come barreling through the door the next moment. 

You startle, shocked by his sudden appearance. He’s changed, but he doesn’t look great. His hair is a mess, his lip is split, his shirt is untucked in places.

He reaches out for you, and you reach him halfway, grabbing his forearms as he grabs yours. Wordlessly, he looks over your face hastily, pressing his lips to yours before you can ask what happened. 

Your lips part, and he puts his forehead on yours. “We need to get out of here. As soon as possible.” 

← previous || next → || masterlist

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role- ACT III (C.S; S.MG)

title;  look into his angel eyes, one look and you're hypnotized, he'll take your heart and you must pay the price  

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader (for now lol)

wc: almost 14k

warnings (PLEASE READ!): this chapter contains mentions of food and heavy dieting, mentions of unhealthy eating habits. mentions of drug abuse and drinking

taglist: @joonsthethicc​ @cookiechristie​ @purenjuniverse​  @hwaist​ @littleparkseonghwa​ @hwasong​ @hwadump​ @hongshines​ @kitty4hwa​ @knisterlicht​ @flamingi​ @revehosh​ @gayliljoong​ @naiify​     @btshook​@atzcoke​  @circusjanreblogs​ @baguette-atiny​ @kpopnightingale​ @xosim​@raineadlr​ 

Buy me a coffee! 

act ii / masterlist / act iv

“She’d been in love with the man, and love is a scary thing. If not reciprocated, it can turn a person into a monster.” ― Michele Young-Stone, The Handbook for Lightning Strike Survivors

You do something you've never done before in your one year long "relationship" with Choi San- you start asking around about his latest conquest.

And by asking around, you mean that you ask Minjeong because she knows everyone and their mothers on your campus. From names to majors to the gossip that might follow them.

You try to do it as inconspicuously as possible because you can't have anyone knowing that some nobody piqued your interest, soon enough after that they'll start to ask why. And God forbid, people could come to the conclusion that you might be threatened by the girl San kissed.

Jennie and the girls would never let you live that one down.

You clear your throat, glancing at Minjeong from the corner of your eye. It's just the two of you at lunch in the cafeteria today and your little friend is munching the sushi she brought for lunch, completely clueless to your incoming inquisition.

"Hey, Jeongie..." You start, swallowing down the piece of salad you stuffed in your mouth before this, as you turn to her innocently.

"Yeah?" She asks, eyes meeting yours. Minjeong is pretty, in a cute sort of way. She's not the type of girl you would usually call hot but she has a brilliant smile and doe eyes that make her seem adorable when she laughs.

"Okay, don't look right away but.." That catches her attention instantly as she turns to you completely, immediately intrigued. Nosy ass bitch. "Do you see that girl sitting next to the vending machine? She's wearing a black hoodie."

Minjeong keeps eye contact with you for a second longer before subtly turning in the direction of the vending machine, pretending to read the drink labels on it.

The girl next to the vending machine, the one San kissed or whatever, has earphones stuck in her ears as she reads a book. She occasionally reaches over for a fry off of her tray which she stuffs in her mouth. Other than that, she doesn't really look up from the book.

Her hair is in a messy low ponytail, strands that escaped are tucked behind her ears and she's in a plain black hoodie. Alone once again. She's really a nobody but the moment she walked into the cafeteria and crossed your vision, your mood dampened significantly.

"I see her." She says quietly, face not giving away much when she slowly turns to you again.

"Do you maybe know who she is?" You question, voice light and unbothered. Making sure not to portray anything other than faint curiosity.

Minjeong nods in response, taking another sushi roll in her mouth, you try not to seem impatient as you watch her chew but your foot is tapping against the cafeteria tiles.

"That's Son Boyoung. She's a biology major."

"That's it?" You push, brows furrowing in slight annoyance. Usually, Minjeong knew a lot more. The juicy stuff like who the other person dated, what stupid thing they did while drunk, what embarrassing thing they posted on social media. Something other than just this.

But Minjeong just shrugs in response.

"I don't really see her around that often, I don't think she goes out or has many friends or anything. The only time I ever see her is maybe the library." She pauses, eyes narrowed in concentration before her eyebrows raise and eyes widen. "Oh, she's Song Mingi's friend!"

"Song Mingi?" It's the first time you hear of him. Minjeong gasps scandalously.

"Oh em gee! Y/N, you don't know Song Mingi?" She questions in a hushed voice. When you shake your head in response, she drops her chopsticks down and gives you her full attention. "Well, he's, like, this computer wiz or something. He's an IT major but most importantly, Song Mingi is fucking hot!"

You raise your brows, not really buying that he can be that hot if he's friends with the likes of Son Boyoung. Plus, you've never heard of him before. Hot people are usually popular. Minjeong is quick to continue.

"He's, like," Minjeong lets out a dreamy sigh, "Tall and just the right amount of muscular and has the best lips ever. And he's mysterious as well, literally no-one knows anything about him except for the small group of people he hangs out with."

"And Son Boyoung is in that group of people?" You ask with an arched eyebrow, not really caring about this Mingi guy much. It's probably overhyped bullshit as per usual.

"Oh, she's much more!" Minjeong leans in closer, "Word on the street is that Mingi is in love with her since, like, forever. They've been friends since they were kids."

"Woah, wait a minute." You pause her ramblings as you sigh, closing your eyes to recollect yourself. "You could've led with that, Minjeong."

"What do you mean?" You shake your head at her question.

"So, you're telling me that this, supposed, God of a man is in love with her? And he couldn't swoop her off her feet by now?"

"Well, it's just a rumor." Minjeong pauses, "But I'm, like, seventy percent sure he's in love with her because he had a project to work on with Chaeyoung, you know her right?" You nod your head even though you have no idea who Chaeyoung was. "She said that Boyoung called him in the middle of their assignment and he dropped everything just to go to her. Chaeyoung was trying to flirt with him as well!"

"He always gives Boyoung special treatment, it makes me kind of jealous." She sighs dramatically and you have to hold back an eyeroll, "And I don't think he ever even hooks up with other girls, at least not that everyone else knows about it. You'd think we'd hear stories about his hookups all the time with how many girls are after him but nothing!"

"Interesting." You hum, leaning back in your chair and letting your eyes wander to Son Boyoung, who still had her nose in a book.

"Right? Maybe he's gay." Minjeong says thoughtfully and you give her a bland stare.

"No, not him-" But you stop yourself, if you mention Son Boyoung one more time, Minjeong might be onto you. She's a bit of an airhead but you aren't being as sneaky as you initially planned. "I mean, maybe he likes her."

"You think so?" Minjeong asks warily, eyes fleeting to where Boyoung sat one more time. "She's kinda..."

"Right?!" You ask gleefuly, making her jump a little. "She's really not that special, right?"

So, you might've been projecting onto Minjeong a little bit right now, who obviously was talking badly about Boyoung with Mingi in mind.

You didn't know Mingi but you know San.

And San kissed Son Boyoung.

"I mean, she's pretty." You say quickly because talking down on a girl's appearance never sat right with you but the shallow, rotten side of you is squirming in delight. "But she's kind of plain, don't you think?"

"Definitely. She dresses weird, as well." Minjeong scrunches up her nose.

It's going to make you feel bad in the long run, the dissection of Boyoung's appearance and dogpiling on it along with Minjeong and probably a dozen of other girls who are after Song Mingi, but in this moment- it makes your heart hurt less.

If Minjeong agrees on this Boyoung girl being no-one special as well, then it's not just you! It's not the jealousy or bitterness speaking in your stead because someone else also agrees that this girl doesn't deserve all this special attention.

Maybe San lost his goddamn mind.

The theory of San having a couple of screws missing up there continues to be the only logical explanation when you're sitting in the library with Hongjoong the next evening.

Your pink laptop is set up in front of you with the rest of your material as you patiently waited for his friend to show up, so he can help you with the main assignment for Computer Science. Hongjoong sat opposite of you, scribbling notes down as he flipped pages of the book in front of him.

You've been spending more time with him recently as San has been completely ignoring you and you'd like to think Hongjoong is your friend. The two of you never hung out outside of the walls of the library, you never asked but neither did he.

"Hey." A deep voice interrupts your train of thoughts and your head picks up at the new presence standing right next to the table where you and Hongjoong sat at.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat once you recognize him as the guy who called Boyoung clumsy the day she bumped into you.

"Mingi! Dude, finally." Hongjoong exclaims in a hushed whisper, failing to hide his excitement at the newcomer as he pulls a chair for him to sit, moving his box to clear out the side of the table.

Wait a second. Mingi?

"Sorry, the TA wanted to talk after class so I got held up." Mingi says quietly as he sits down, eyes fleeting to you and nodding in some sort of greeting you suppose. You nod back, trying not to seem so shocked that Boyoung's friend is, coincidentally, the person that was supposed to help you with your assignment.

Maybe you took Minjeong's words a bit too lightly because fuck, Mingi was hot.

He was tall with broad shoulders covered in a sweatshirt and you couldn't help the way your eyes stayed glued to his hands, decorated with silver rings, as he pulled out his laptop out of the backpack that was hanging off of one shoulder when he walked in.

Tan skin, luscious lips, slim nose and dark eyes that were almost covered by the fringe of dark hair. If you weren't paying such close attention, you wouldn't notice the strands of dark blue in it weaved underneath the raven ones.

But you were mostly focused on his lips. Fuck, Minjeong was right about those as well. They were amazing.

Pretty, pink and plump.

You quickly dragged your gaze somewhere else clearing your throat which seemed to bring Hongjoong's nose out of his book.

"Oh, right!" Hongjoong points to you, "Mingi, this is Y/N. She's the girl who needs help with her assignment."

"Hey." Mingi just repeats, coolly.

"Hi." You respond back, pulling your lips in because you feel slightly awkward since you really do remember him from when you snapped at Son Boyoung a couple of weeks ago.

"Did you start your work already or?" Mingi asks, placing his backpack down on the floor.

Your eyes dart to Hongjoong, who is back to his own work, before you respond.

"Um, I started it but I'm already stuck. I only know the basics..." You drag out and he nods once again before quietly moving to sit on the empty chair next to you and turning his laptop around.

Half an hour later, Hongjoong is long gone saying he has an essay to turn in tomorrow morning and you're stuck with Song Mingi alone as you both try to work on your assignment. But it's quite difficult and you don't grasp it as easily and it definitely doesn't take long for his true colors to show.

"You're doing it wrong again." He huffs, moving your hand away from the mouse and taking it in his own hand. "This is quite literally one of the simplest tasks in the assignment."

"Oh..." You muse out, not really knowing what to say. The fact that you're not good at this subject was already eating away at you but now, he was just making you feel like an idiot.

"What 'oh'?" Mingi asks a little bit harsher and you turn to him, cheeks flushing. His brows are furrowed and he's looking at the screen with annoyance radiating off of him. "'Oh' isn't going to fix shit."

You pursue your lips, watching him click away and re-do your mistake with a clenched fist in your lap. You don't want to be rude because one; he's Hongjoong's friend and two; he's the one taking the time out of his day to help you.

"Where are your exercise books?" He asks as he presses the 'save' button, you bite your lip before turning to him again.

"There are exercise books?" You ask in a small voice, almost trying to act cute so he wouldn't get angry.

"Seriously?" But Mingi is dead serious and looking even more pissed off now. Your eyes fall down to the table, feeling like you're getting scolded by a teacher in middle school. "You know maybe if you spent less time planning your outfits and more time actually sitting in class and paying attention, you wouldn't be failing."

"I..." You mouth is ajar a bit as you let his words sink in before you're just filled with anger. "I'm not failing and I do sit in class and pay attention."

"Oh, really?" He asks almost mockingly and you have the urge to slap him. "Because I'm pretty sure professors are obliged to mention the material for the subjects they're teaching. The assignment is literally from those exercise books."

You clamp your mouth shut, feeling your cheeks turn redder by the second. Mingi hums, eyes dancing over your face for a second.

"Maybe your way of paying attention is as bad as your common courtesy."

Wha-

"Common cour- What the fuck are you even talking about, right now?" You snap in a hushed tone, being completely done with this guy.

Minjeong was wrong about him. He's not the mysterious, smart hunk she thought he was. Song Mingi was just a dick who thought he was better than you.

He thinks he's all that because he's hot and knows how to code stuff.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about or do you intend on playing stupid and acting like you don't recognize me from the day you yelled at my friend." He hisses back in the same way, his laptop already being pushed shit by his big hand.

It seems like your tutoring hour is finishing early today.

"Seriously?! That's what you're so pissed about?!" You chuckle in disbelief, looking around the almost empty library just to refrain yourself from blowing up on him.

The fact that he's being an asshole to you right now, all because of Son fucking Boyoung almost makes you scream.

"I have every right to be pissed about that. You embarrassed her in front of everyone that was there that day." He accused and you roll your eyes before turning to him.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." You lazily waved off, "I merely raised my voice a little bit, she'll live."

Now it was Mingi's turn to let out a humorless chuckle of disbelief as he stared at you for a second too long.

"You're unbelievable, you know that right?" He breathed out, collecting all of his belongings into his backpack. You watch him place the backpack over his shoulder and get up from the chair in silence. "We're done for today."

Then he stops for a second before turning around to face.

"And by the way, I don't care what Joong said. I expect to be paid for these lessons."

And he's stalking towards the exit, leaving you with your mouth slightly ajar as you watch him leave before letting out a final chuckle of disbelief.

What an asshole.

Still, you're not all that bothered by his clear dislike towards you. Song Mingi was equally of a nobody as Kang Yeosang to you, why would you let him plague your mind for a moment necessary .

Especially when you have some fucking rich kids party coming up that Friday, which you really don't want to go to but you have to for the sake of appearances. If they sense that you don't want to run in their crowd anymore, you'll become prey.

You're not scared of any of them, far from it actually, but you know that Jennie and the rest of girls would quickly follow in turning their backs on you. And being an outcast would be easy if you knew you had people watching your back but you don't. You're all alone.

They're all patiently waiting for the moment you screw up, so you could be kicked off of the top and placed at the bottom of their fucked up food chain.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That Friday, you sit in front of your vanity and carefully apply your make as you always do. The hinges on your face are tightly shut because this time, you refuse to see what hides below the surface.

It's peaceful despite the storm raging inside of you.

Until Jung Wooyoung bursts into your bedroom.

He looks entirely out of place as he closes the door shut behind himself and almost awkwardly looks around your room, ignoring your question.

When you just continue to stare at him with raised brows as if he lost his whole entire mind, he lets out a sigh and his head falls a little in somewhat embarrassment.

"Look, my parents sent me here to pick you up, okay? They want us to go to the party together." He explains, face portraying the annoyance you're feeling as well as you exhale shakily as if you're about to explode.

"My parents sent you to my room?!" You hiss with a glare, dropping the brush you were using to apply your highlighter loudly back to the small makeup table.

"I mean, yeah. You mom sent me up here." Wooyoung nods, slipping his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he continues to stare around your room.

"Un-fucking-believable." You mutter being thoroughly done with your mother who never allowed any boys in your room but suddenly it's okay just because it's Wooyoung, grabbing your mascara and pulling out the wand to apply it to your lashes.

You pause when you notice his gaze on your face.

You turn to him, expecting for him to look away or fucking leave.

"Well, don't fucking stand there! You're stressing me out!" You snap rudely and he rolls his eyes, hands sarcastically going up as if in defence.

"Sorry, princess. Didn't know I caught you in such a crucial moment." He's quiet for a moment. "Well, what am I supposed to do then?"

You sigh, hand dropping to the wooden surface for a second as you turn to glare at him.

"I don't fuckin' know. Go sit down or something!" Because you know there's no way around it. You're going to the party with him, there's no getting out of this one.

With a hum, he walks over to your bed and plops down on it.

Once again, he looks as awkward as you feel. You haven't seen Wooyoung since the night of that party a couple of weeks ago and the last time you two spoke, you were very close to ruining both of your lives.

Not that Wooyoung and you ever had anything to talk about. But somehow, with that night in mind, your bedroom seems suffocating with him in it. Especially since he's not as hostile as he would usually be.

"Oh, shit. You actually do paint." Wooyoung sings innocently, observing your painting aisle set up next to the window with one of your current projects half finished, sitting in it. "I always thought that was another pretentious farce of yours."

You grit your teeth as you continue working on your make-up, refusing to give him the pleasure of riling you up.

"I always thought you were going to go into business like Seonghwa. I mean, your parents were sure of it." He keeps talking, before turning to you with head cocked in curiosity. "How did they let you go into art?"

"I'm very persuasive." You say stiffly as you dab your lips with a cherry red lipstick.

"I'm sure you are." He nods but his eyes are narrowed as if he's trying to read you. Your eyes meet his through the mirror and you pursue your lips but still keep quiet. "So, it has nothing to do with the summer you spent in rehab?"

"Shut the fuck up!" You hiss, head turning to him sharply with a venomous glare before you glance at the door in reflex from the fear of someone hearing him. No one can know that he knows.

Wooyoung follows your eyes to the door, getting the message that maybe he's not supposed to talk about that here. With a clenched jaw, "Fine."

You turn to the mirror again to finally finish your look.

A beat of silence.

"It's not something to be ashamed of, Y/N." The way Wooyoung says it, it's almost soft. A first for him to talk to you like that.

"Your shit isn't something to be ashamed of either, yet you're still hiding it." You throw back in a low voice and he holds your gaze through the mirror for a moment before his eyes fall to your carpet.

You watch him through the mirror, his face is stoic but his leg keeps bouncing up and down.

He clears his throat.

"I won't tell anyone, by the way." He's still staring at the floor. "So..you don't have to worry about that."

In Jung Wooyoung's booklet, this was his idea of an apology. For cornering you like that? For using it against you and scaring the shit out you? You don't know. But you can tell he feels at least a bit of remorse for that night.

You don't say anything in response but still, you can't resist the curiosity about the thing that's been eating away at you ever since that night.

You drop down the lipstick and turn to him, hesitantly opening your mouth.

"How did you find out?"

His eyes snap up to you and he leans back on the palms of his hands on your bed.

"I didn't." Wooyoung responds quietly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as your mouth drops to tell him off before he shrugs. "It was just a rumor going around. Most of those end up being true when you're in our circles."

"I just said it without thinking because I was panicking and your face only confirmed it."

Your eyes fall shut at his admission, mad at yourself for making such a fucking rookie mistake.

"Fucking stupid." You whisper to yourself, standing up and heading towards your closet to pick out an outfit because you couldn't bare to sit in front of him anymore.

Wooyoung sits in silence as you flick through the options in your closet before deciding on a white flare dress with slightly puffed out sleeves. You disappear in your bathroom to slip into it and pull on thin black nylons underneath because it was nearing November now and the nights were cold.

You step into your Mary Jane heeled shoes and walk back into your bedroom, just running a brush through your hair as you're really not in the mood for this party or anything else that comes with it.

You grab your small purse from the hanger and check if your phone and wallet are in it. Wooyoung opts to just staying silent the entire time.

"Okay, let's go." You say and he jumps up with a sigh, heading out of your room.

Your mother escorts you out of the house as if you and Wooyoung were heading off to prom, you swear she would've asked to take photos of the two of you if you hadn't just grabbed Wooyoung's hand and pulled him through the house with a loud goodbye.

The party is just like any other fancy party you've attended over the years. Filled with fake smiles and pretending to give a fuck about what these people have going on in their lives since you've last seen them.

The only difference is that, now, you stick by Wooyoung's side.

When the two of you walked in together, almost no-one was surprised which is infuriating as it's equally as comforting.

You're surprised neither you or Wooyoung have wandered off to mingle by now but it seems like he hates these things as much as you do and yet, he can't allow his annoyance to show with anyone else but you.

Which is why you stay glued by him. It's a little bit easier to not have to wear your facade around at least someone here and you can share your discomfort and mean comments with him freely.

It's almost kind of nice.

"Oh, Kim Jisoo got a nose job." Wooyoung mutters next to you with a faint smirk and the fact that he almost looks gleeful not because of the nose job but because he can actually say stuff like that to someone now, makes you snort and you're willing to amuse him by playing along.

"Yikes." You try not to grimace once you catch sight of the girl. "Not even a nose job can make that bitch likeable."

Wooyoung snorts in response, inching closer to you as you both rest your backs against the wall near the balcony.

You wonder why he's not with the guys he usually hangs out with but then it dawns onto you that maybe those guys are his 'Jennie and the girls'. It makes you feel pity for him for a second and you have no space to pity anyone when you and Wooyoung are in the exact same boat.

"She's dating Yeonjun, now." Wooyoung comments quietly, careful of anyone overhearing. "I heard they're set to get engaged next year."

You shrug, taking a sip from the flute of champagne. "Good for them. They deserve each other."

Both rotten to the bone, you want to add but refrain yourself.

"You're okay with that?" Wooyoung scrunches his nose, cocking his head to the side as his eyes catch yours. "Weren't you, like, in love with him?"

An unladylike snort escapes you.

"Wooyoung, Yeonjun and I dated the same way you and I are dating now." You turn to face him, lazily fixing the collar of his blaze that got twisted before smiling bitterly. "It was all our parents. I didn't even have his phone number until the day he texted me that he's breaking up with me."

"But...it seemed so real." He furrows his brows. Your hand falls from his collar now that you've caught enough people glancing at the two of you and you smile at him, widely.

"I'm a good actress."

Wooyoung looks like he wants to ask more but he's interrupted by the buzzing from your purse. You fish out your phone, confused to see Yeji calling you.

"Hello?"

"When are you getting here?" Yeji was one of the rare friends you made in the art department. She wasn't rich but she was popular, a party girl and you liked her enough on a superficial level.

"I'm not getting anywhere." You respond confusedly because you have no idea what 'here' even entails, "I already had plans."

"Well, ditch the plans!" There is music in the background and loud cheering which can only mean she's at a party of her own. "San is here."

And you pathetically perk up at that, chest filling with that familiar longing and want that would make you do just about anything- even disobeying your parents' wishes.

"I'll be there." You respond quickly and she giggles from the other line.

"Are you coming alone?"

"No." You eye Wooyoung who busied himself with munching on a piece of chocolate cake. "I'm bringing some collateral damage with me."

And you hang up.

"What collateral damage?" Wooyoung asks with his mouth full and eyes almost innocent.

"You." You answer swiftly, not looking to see the glare that sets on his face as you push your phone back into your small purse. "Go get your car. We're leaving this snoozefest."

"I don't think I like this." Wooyoung shifts next to you as you both stand in front of the huge sorority house, you can hear music coming from inside and people occasionally spilling out of the door.

It's crowded, even for you who is used to these types of thing.

You turn to him.

"You've been to college parties before, Wooyoung."

"Yeah, but..." He hesitantly eyes the people drunkenly stumbling out of front door, "They're never like this, I think we should just go back."

The timid note in his voice is enough to cause even your eyes to soften, confused by his behaviour. Wooyoung is usually loud, confident and annoying.

"Hey," You softly call, hesitant to show him that you might give a fuck about how he feels. "I just need to see someone, we'll be out as soon as I do. You can wait in the car if you'd like but I think it's going to take awhile for me to find them."

"Promise?" He asks and you cock your head in confusion. "Promise we won't stay here for long?"

You stare at him for a second too long, wondering why Jung Wooyoung would believe any promise you make when even you know it might be a lie.

What if you actually find San and go home with him? Would you really turn that down after weeks of being ignored by him for someone like Jung Wooyoung? Someone who made your life hell since the moment you met him at the tender age of six?

You don't think so.

"Promise." You nod.

When the two of you walk inside, it's exactly how you would expect it. Drunk college students everywhere, sweaty bodies occupying the living room and dancing but on the verge of basically humping. Girls taking photos with their friends, guys trying to get laid and Yeji skipping her way to the two of you.

"Oh, he's cute Y/N!" Yeji gushes as she introduces herself to Wooyoung who stares at her with complete disinterest.

"Stay away from him, Yeji." You say with a snort as you give her a hug. Something tells you that she'll make it a mission to get with Wooyoung by the end of the night. "I don't think you're his type."

She pouts at him and Wooyoung laughs a very fake laugh before pulling you closer to whisper in your ear. "I'll stay with her while you find whoever you need to find, but for the love of fucking God, hurry."

"Okay." You nod before parting from them and continuing your way into the house.

You grimace as you push your way past the sweaty bodies and know that it will be hard to find San like this. You should've asked Yeji where he was but it was too late to go back now so instead, you decide to go to the kitchen which is less occupied to take a moment and think.

Resting your hands on the counter, you let out a deep sigh and thank God that there is a minimum amount of people here.

San wasn't in the living room. If he were, he'd have a crowd of people around him which would attract your attention. The only place he could be is upstairs, again.

You straighten out your posture, eyes falling on the open backdoor that lead to the back porch and you freeze.

....or San could be with Boyoung outside, again. Which he is.

You almost snort at how predictable this is getting.

You can see the two of them through the kitchen window which gives view of the backyard.

They're leaning against the wooden banister, bodies pressed close to each other and they're...talking.

San is smiling softly at her as he whisper something to her that makes her blush, before he gently tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Even Boyoung, who you have usually never seen in anything but hoodies and ugly sweaters, is now in a tight dress stuck to her figure. Meaning she was invited here tonight.

...by San?

Your cheeks flush in...you don't know what. Heartbreak? Betrayal? Humiliation? You're not sure. All you know is that you feel like your chest is caving in and your back is breaking out in sweat as you stare at them with parted lips.

Boyoung says something to him and San throws his head back in laughter, if you listen closely- you're sure you can hear his pretty laugh even from the outside.

Tears well up in your eyes but you just can't look away.

Is she the new favorite? Or was this something else? Was there something more serious between her and San that you have been trying to create for the past year?

And that this nobody managed to do in less than a month.

"Oh, would you look at that." Your body goes rigid once a familiar voice echoes through the, now, almost empty kitchen. "How the mighty have fallen."

"What do you want?" You hiss, eyes falling to the counter so you don't have to look at her face.

Don’t let him giving you attention get to your head, you’re not anyone special to him. You’re just a little freshman who still doesn’t know what she just got herself into.

Seo Yeojin casually leans on the counter next to you, car keys dangling off of her fingers and jacket still on.

"Nothing, just enjoying the party."

You turn to her, eyeing her from her heeled boots to hair in a low bun.

"Aren't you a little too old for college parties?" You sneer, crossing your arms over your chest. She snorts but her eyes hold no offense.

In fact, she looks completely indifferent to you which causes rage to bubble up inside of you because she's actually looking like the bigger person here.

"I came to pick up my baby sister. She's a freshman."

"I don't care." You're quick to respond and she lets out a sigh, eyes falling to the floor for a second.

"You know, you can retract the claws. I'm not trying to fight." Yeojin says earnestly and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

It seems like by not giving her a response it gives her a right to continue speaking or something because she's quick to open her mouth again.

"San seems really happy with her. There isn't that cloud hovering over his head anymore, you know?" Your hands ball into fists and jaw clenches as you draw her eyes away from her and to the kitchen window again. San and Boyoung are still there, whispering amongst themselves, softly caressing each other. "You actually did hold out the longest from all of us, so I'm sure you've noticed it. I'm sure you know how fucking miserable he actually is...why he does the things he does to us."

"Stop talking." You whisper but she doesn't listen.

"He was fucking broken and each and every one of us tried to fix him, Y/N. At one point, you have to give up. Especially now when he seems to find someone he actually might have feel-"

"She's nothing to him!" You snarled, cheeks a deep red as you're that winded up, "She means nothing. She's just another girl to be added to his list and once he's bored, he'll come back to me. Like he always does."

But your eyes well up with tears and your hands shake when you're finished. You're so caught up in your emotions that you have no idea how much you sound exactly like Seo Yeojin did the day she cornered you in that bathroom.

If you were in her place, you would gloat in that fact. You would throw the words you said to her that day, in your own face.

The difference is that Seo Yeojin isn't as rotten as you are on the inside. At the time, you were convinced you were better than her but it seems like it's actually the other way around.

"That's not true." She responds calmly and there is fucking pity in her eyes. For you. Seo Yeojin, the girl you ridiculed and who's place you took the moment you walked into San's life, is pitying you. "And deep down, you know it as well."

"Everything you've said just..." You leered at her. "All of this bullshit. It's what a fucking losers says. You lost him, so now you're trying to convince me that I've done the same."

And Yeojin just smiles. But it's not a mean smile, not even a mocking one. It's a sad smile. The pity in her eyes doubles and it makes you want to curl up and die.

"I'm not a loser." She says with a shrug, "I'm just a girl who found someone that showed her what love is actually supposed to be like. And I can tell you right now, Y/N, that this...whatever it is you had with San, it's not it."

She leaves after that, disappears out of the kitchen and into the crowd of people in the living room while you're left alone.

The hinges on your face are close to coming off. The door is ready to fall and show everyone here what lies behind the perfect facade- the barely working mechanism covered in moss and spider webs, the rusty screws so close to breaking.

You're so close to showing everyone who Park Y/N  actually is.

But you can't do that. The door can only come off in the privacy of your bedroom, it's saved for your vanity mirror which has by now grown accustomed to it.

So you suck in a deep breath and will the tears away and with one last look at San still wrapped up in her, you will the tears away and leave the kitchen.

In the living room, a whole new disaster awaits you.

You try to look for Wooyoung and Yeji, pushing through the crowd of sweaty bodies before you notice a little group gathered near the empty fireplace all stuck between what seemed as some commotion.

Jung Wooyoung is in the middle of it.

You push through the crowd more forcefully to get closer to him faster when you notice just how small he looks in front of the bigger guy who looks at him with a mocking smirk and the eyes surrounding them.

"Just leave me alone." Wooyoung sneers and you know he's trying to look unbothered and maybe even a little bit intimidating but you can tell how his eyes coast over the crowd of people around him in panic and fear and you realize just how much you screwed up by bringing him here.

"Hey, hey." You say breathlessly, latching onto the material of his blazer. Wooyoung's watery eyes are still on the guy in front of him. "What's going on?"

"Oh, look everyone! It's Wooyoung's girlfriend!" The big guy laughs as he loudly exclaims to the crowd who seems to break out in whispers. You stare at him a little bit longer when you recognize him as Kim Namhyuk, the university's star football player and resident sleazebag.

"Y/N, let's just go." Wooyoung whispers but you're stuck staring at the guy opposite of him who attracted so much attention to all of you now. Namhyuk redirects his attention to you once he notices your sharp eyes on him.

"He's not going to fuck you, pretty girl." Namhyuk muses with a cruel smirk and you can tell he's drunk and by his blown out and red eyes- maybe even high on something. His eyes coast over to Wooyoung once again, growing meaner. "He likes dick way too much."

Gasps echo through the room.

"Shut up!" Wooyoung almost begs and you've known him since you were both kids but you have never seen him filled with so much desperation and fear. It caused an odd sense of protectiveness over him to wake up inside of you.

Because no-one fucking bullied Jung Wooyoung unless it was you.

Especially not a homophobe.

"Listen, fuckface, how about you go get jacked up on steroids and worry about the classes you're about to flunk this semester instead!" You exclaim loudly, hand wrapping around Wooyoung's wrist and turning around to pull him after you through the crowded space before Namhyuk's voice stops you again.

"Oh, come on pretty girl! Don't get mad!" You try to ignore him, especially when you notice that even his friends are trying to shut him up but he doesn't seem to care. Still laughing, "I'm sure if I let him suck my dick, he'll forget this even happened!"

You stop in your tracks and Wooyoung bumps into you.

You turn to Namhyuk again, trying to ignore Wooyoung's tearful eyes as he looks at you in confusion because all your attention is on Namhyuk.

And he seems to revel in it because he opens his mouth again, "I mean, I'm not saying I'm into guys but a blowjob is a blowjob, you know what I mean?"

He laughs it off with his friend who doesn't really find it that funny. Wooyoung grips the back of your dress. "Y/N, don't."

But it's too late.

Your fist lands straight into his nose before you've flung yourself on top of him and everything just goes to hell after that.

It might've been the anger you felt from seeing San with Boyoung that was festering below your skin that made you have so much power and anger inside of your small body but-

Namhyuk, a football player twice your size is on the floor. It's all foggy but you remember clawing at his face and his hands trying to protect himself. His friends are trying to get you off of him and it's only after there are scratches covering his face and a busted lip- that they succeed.

You shakily push them off of you as you stand up, your hair falling into your face from the ferocity of your attack as you watch him groan on the floor, you breathe heavily. Wooyoung grabs your hand to pull you back to his side as you stare at Namhyuk with a faint smirk.

He goes wild when he sees it.

"I'm going to sue you, Park!" Namhyuk screeches from the floor as he cups his nose, "I'll take every penny from you, you crazy ass bitch!"

"Just try and see what happens." You say quietly as you chuckle before turning around and letting Wooyoung pull you away through the crowded living room which only seemed to grow in the number of people.

Namhyuk is left on the floor in the middle of his tantrum and it's all white noise from there.

Wooyoung is pulling you out of the house and across the lawn towards his car. He's yelling.

"Are you stupid?!" "He will sue you!" "He could've killed you!" "What will your parents say when they find out?!" "You just messed it up for both of us-!"

It's your soft whimper that causes Wooyoung to cease with his shouting at you. The whimper is followed by tears until you're full on sobbing in the front seat of his car as he sits next to you staring with wide eyes and jaw dropped.

"Y/N....?" Wooyoung asks in a much quieter voice, before his face hardens, "Are you hurt?"

You shake your head in response as you cry, hands covering your face and letting the makeup smudge.

He sighs, head falling to the back of the seat.

"Look, I didn't mean to yell that bad. It's just...what you did was really stupid and I don't need-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" You wail, barely managing to get the words out. Wooyoung looks at you like he doesn't know you at all. "It's my fault! It's all my fault!"

"I mean...it's...well, yeah, breaking his nose was stupid but-"

"No." You whine, tears sliding down your face, "I'm not sorry for ju-jumping on him! I'm sorry for bringing you here! It's all m-my fault! I should've listened w-when you said you wanted to leave! I had no place to even go to this f-fucking party and I'm sorry! If I didn't make you come then you wouldn't have had to he-hear anyone say something like that to y-you! I'm so s-sorry!"

And that was the truth.

The guilt hit you like a truck going at full speed the moment Wooyoung grabbed your hand to drag you outside.

You tried not to make it about you so hard but...

You brought Wooyoung here. You're responsible for this. Without you, he wouldn't have ever met any of these horrible people. He never would've been suspected to their prying eyes and mocking smiles as they tried to humiliate him. He would've never had to hear the words that asshole threw at him.

It would be easy to say that you were simply taking your anger from seeing San with Boyoung and from your conversation with Yeojin, out on Namhyuk. But it wasn't the truth.

The truth was that seeing Wooyoung so small and afraid with those vultures surrounding him as he cowered away- it filled you with rage you haven't felt in awhile.

You didn't have a lot of friends. In fact, you think you don't have any friends. Hongjoong would maybe count if you squint your eyes but other than that, you had no real friends. But it seemed like a newly discovered part of you wanted Wooyoung safe and protected.

That's weird.

"You..." Wooyoung starts, eyeing you like you've gone completely mental as he's trying to connect some dots it seemed. "You're crying because...you brought me here?"

You nod weakly, sniffling and Wooyoung snorts next to you. You bring your head up to look at him through the tears which only makes him want to laugh more.

"Y/N, I brought us here. I literally drove." You stare at him. "Also, I'm two years older than you so I don't think peer pressure had anything to do with this. And I do have a mind of my own so if I didn't want to go or walk into the house, I could've just ditched you, to be honest."

Your sniffles and hiccups slow down.

"So, like, you're not this horrible person you've convinced yourself you are or anything." Wooyoung adds. He looks awkward doing it, probably because neither of you are used to actually being somewhat nice to each other. "And it was actually kind of nice. What you did..."

You don't say anything back, only lower yourself into the seat as you look out of the window and the tears dry on your face. He might have a point, your face scrunches up in thought. Wooyoung looks at you with a quirked up brow.

"Are you okay now?" He asks through a cough, eyes going anywhere else but you as he waits for a response.

You shrug.

"Of course, I am. I'm a good person- you just said it yourself." His head snaps towards you as he chuckles in disbelief.

"Unbelievable. Were those tears even real?" Wooyoung asks with his mouth wide open but you can see a smile threatening to pull up.

"Yes, they were! I'm a mini Mother Theresa if you will." You sniffle and a couple of tears still manage to slide down your face, fingers tapping against the door handle, suddenly feeling a lot better once you got what was bother you off your chest and cried it out. At least one thing that was bothering you, that is.

"Okay, see, a good person wouldn't say that about themselves." He commented. "And I don't think Mother Theresa was famous for beating up fratboys at a sorority house."

You lazily wave off with a sigh.

You're both just sitting in Wooyoung's car, you can see people spilling in and out of the sorority house.

"So...I saw you talking with some girl in the kitchen. Was she the person you needed to see?" He prods, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

Oh, right.

The image of San and Boyoung surfaces up in your mind, accompanied by the conversation you had with Yeojin and suddenly your good mood, no matter how fleeting and shaky it was, is gone.

"No. It doesn't matter." Is your simple response, hopefully enough for him to get that you'd rather not talk about it. You turn to Wooyoung, "Are you okay?"

He looks at you weirdly and you feel yourself blush.

"I mean, Namhyuk is an asshole I always knew that.." You stammer out, "And I'm not trying to find excuses for him, like, I literally just broke his nose but I never expected for him to be so...like that. So horrible, you know?"

Wooyoung chuckles.

"The worst part is that he's not like that." Now, it's your turn to look at him weirdly as Wooyoung starts the car.

"What do you mean? You know him?" You prod because you're as nosy as you are rich.

"Doesn't matter. But what if he sues you?"

"He won't." You dismiss easily as you watch the road as he drives before turning to him. "How do you know him?"

"How are you so sure he won't sue you?" Wooyoung avoids the question which makes you even more interested.

"Because he used to snort coke off of my back when I was seventeen." Wooyoung almost swerves to the other side of the street, you don't miss a beat before you repeat your question. "Wooyoung, how do you know him?"

"Y/N, what the actual fuck?!" Wooyoung freaks out, eyes wide but still on the road as he loudly chastised, "You can't just say shit like that!"

"Wooyoung..." You draw out and he glances at you before sighing, hands tightening around the steering wheel.

"I don't want to talk about it." He says softly but the sadness in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you. "Please just,... stop asking."

You slump in your seat again but eyes still on him. "Okay."

There is a moment of silence in the car, you check the time.

"We still have two hours to kill before we can head home." You press your lips together.

"We could go to a bar." He suggests before muttering, "Lord knows I need a fucking drink after tonight."

"You can't drink, you have to drive us back home." You remind and he groans, saying you have a point.

"Wanna go to McDonalds?"

"Sure." You nod, eyes glued to his side profile for a second too long.

It seemed like Wooyoung and you were more alike than you first thought. Both haunted by secrets and past hurt that neither of you were willing to share just yet.

Three days after that you come to the decision of paying Choi San a little visit.

Now, it was stupid. You were very well aware but the unknown between the two of you, how you stand with him now that all of his attention is on Boyoung- is starting to drive you insane.

And it's not like you only ever think about San. It's not! You have projects to turn in, midterms coming up, pilates classes and brunches your mother scheduled. You even start texting Wooyoung a little bit.

Your mom is overjoyed knowing that and every time she catches you smiling at your phone- she thinks it's Wooyoung, probably trying to flirt with you or something but in reality, he's sending you memes he finds on Twitter.

But then, all of a sudden, San would come to your mind and you just needed to know what happens next. Do you become the next Yeojin as Boyoung takes your place?

You were nervous as you approached the door of San's unit. A guy from the frat San was in was leaving the building and probably recognized you from all the times he's seen you around San so he let you into the building but you usually never showed up unannounced like this.

With a deep breath, you ring the doorbell and wait, praying to God that it's not Yeosang who opens it. Of course, luck is never on your side because that's exactly who greets you as the doors pull open.

"Oh, it's you." Yeosang huffs and with an eye roll moves to the side, opening the door wider to let you in.

"Hey." You greet, because unlike Yeosang, you actually have some manners.

"Don't be fucking loud." He says bluntly with a stoic face, already approaching the door to his room, "No one wants to hear you fucking."

And with that, he disappears closing the door of his room shut.

You're left in the narrow hallway alone and you wipe your clammy hands on your skirt, making a beeline to San's room.

Knocking on the door, you hear shuffling from the other side and the sound of the desk chair moving and footsteps approaching the door.

San stands in front of you looking as beautiful as always. Hair falling over his forehead, in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. His brows furrow when he sees you.

"Y/N." He utters, watching as you push past him and enter his space. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed by the excuse that's about to leave your lips. "I came here for my scrunchie."

"Your...your scrunchie?" San echoes behind you and your cheeks flush. He's looking at you like you're bullshitting him which you are. Well, you did forget a scrunchie at his place but you couldn't give two fucks about it.

"I left it here!" You respond confidently, licking your lips and trying to stop the rapid pounding of your heart. "I need it back. It's my favorite one."

"Well, do you know where it might be?" San asks, eyes roaming over his room like he didn't notice any of your things in it before.

"Uh, I'm sure it's here somewhere..." You drag out, bitting on your bottom lip as you gaze around his room as well.

It's messy but in an organized sort of way, his desk is filled with books and open notebooks with notes scattered around it. Clothes are pilled up on a chair next to his window which he uses to sit on when he smokes. The shelves next to it are still bursting with knick-knacks and among them, you notice your hot pink, velvet scrunchie.

"Ha!" You happily walk over to it and pick up your scrunchie and show it to him proudly, with a small smile. "Here it is!"

San only nods in response, observing you as you plop down on his bed with feigned innocence.

"So, what's up?" You ask, trying not to make the desperation for him as obvious. You doubt you're doing a good job.

"Just..studying." San answers quietly, he seems almost awkward standing by his door and it's confusing you.

You pat a spot on his bed, next to you.

"Why are you standing over there for? Come sit." And in two strides, San sits down next to you with his legs spread out as he leans his elbows on his knees, his hands intertwining in front of him.

"Did you need anything else or-?"

"How are midterms going?" You interrupt, scooting a little bit closer to him. He looks down to the small space left between the two of you but doesn't comment on it which means he isn't bothered by it. Which means you still have a chance. Right?

"Uh, good, yeah." He nods and it's so awkward. San looks so out of his element, like he wants to jump up and create as much distance between the two of you as possible and it brings a pang of pain to your chest.

"What are you studying?" You question again, gripping onto straws of any conversation and just hoping that you can spend some more time with him. It's been so long since you've seen him, since you've been with him.

You haven't been in proper contact with him since the night of the party where you caught him kissing Son fucking Boyoung. And the first time you see him after that, he's with her...again. But if things escalate between the two of you, as they usually would, then it would mean it's all good. It would mean she's just like the others, she doesn't mean anything to him.

Except she got to kiss him. And be held by him at a party filled by other options. He chose to be with her two times in a row now.

But whatever. That doesn't have to mean anything.

Maybe San just wants her in his bed that bad that going out of his way to kiss her is the only way to fuck her. She seems like a prude.

"Math. Error Control Coding." He carelessly responds, eyes roaming over his room again as if it's so fucking interesting. As if he doesn't fucking live here and isn't familiar with the layout of it. Why won't he look at you? "I don't think you know what that is,so..."

And there it is. The insinuation that just because it's math, it's automatically not your thing. Because you're stupid. Daft. Vapid. An airhead.

"Right." You whisper. You could let this upset you, you want to let this upset you because little to San's knowledge, your father had you attending math academies since before you entered high school. You won bronze two times in a row at the Korean Mathematical Olympiad. You were fucking smart.

But San didn't care before when he was fucking you regularly and actually bothered to respond to your texts so you'd be damned to bring it up now, when he barely gave you the time of day.

You have no other choice but to be the Y/N that Choi San is best familiar with.

"Are you stressed, Sannie?" You whisper, hand daringly running through his soft black hair. San turns to you with a sigh at the gesture and it's all it takes for you to climb into his lap.

"I can help, you know." You comment, lips ghosting over the freckles on his neck and pressing a kiss below his ear. "I can help you relieve the stress, San."

For the first time, San seems hesitant and his hands stay glued to the mattress as you continue to layer kisses over his neck. You feel like crying.

He's so unresponsive, so not into it as he usually was. And you have a hunch as to why. You know.

But you would only admit it to yourself over your own dead boy. She means nothing to him. She's nothing.

Son Boyoung is a mediocre nobody. She isn't the reason San is behaving like this. He wouldn't rather have her than you and she is not the reason why he pushes you away the moment your hand trails under his sweatshirt.

"I'm not in the mood, Y/N." He mutters, pushing you of his lap as he stands up.

You sit up on the bed, watching him as he sighs, pulling out a cigarette before opening the window to let the chilly air in. He doesn't look at you as he lights up the cigarette, only sits down on the chair not caring of the clothes pilled on it and you have to press your lips to stop the tears from falling.

He rejected you. Choi San just fucking rejected you. Holy fuck.

"You're not in the mood?" You ask sarcastically, fisting his sheets. He doesn't respond only blows out the smoke through the window.

"Okay, what is going on with you?" You cut right to the chase and San turns to you, probably surprised to see the way your voice takes a serious turn. He isn't used to it, you never use it with him.

"Nothing is going on." He shrugs but his careless attitude contradicts the sharp stare he gives you, "I just don't want to have sex. I'm allowed to not want to have sex with you, Y/N. I know you might find it hard to believe."

"Wha-" You gasp, chuckling in disbelief before, standing up to glare at him. "We don't have to have sex, San, but I haven't seen you in weeks. You could at least answer my texts."

"I was busy." Is his response. Simple and curt. It makes you want to scream.

"With what? Who?" You quickly attack because if he's going to dump you then you want him to do it to your face. You're too good to just get ghosted after a year of running after him and bending over backwards to please him.

"There you go again-" San huffs, rolling his eyes and flicking his cigarette. "It's none of your business."

"None of my business?!"

"Yeah, none of your business!" He snaps back at you for the first time ever. Your face is flushed from both the embarrassment of the rejection but from just the hurt and anger because this is unfair. "You don't see me meddling about who you're spending your time with, do you?"

"You are such an asshole." You whisper, blinking away the tears. You won't cry in front of him. You refuse. He already thinks you're a whiny little bitch, you won't give him a reason to think you're weak as well.

"Oh, am I?" San chuckles bitterly, "And why is that? Because I don't wanna fuck you? Princess doesn't get her way for once and suddenly I'm the bad guy?"

"You know why!" You snap loudly, hands balling into fists at your sides. "You know exactly what you're doing, San! You always did! I'm not stupid!"

By that, you meant that San knew you were in love with him. Of course he knew. Everyone who ever got involved with Choi San somehow managed to fall in love with him, one way or the other. Get trapped in his twisted games of push and pull until it left the other party broken and he just moved on to someone else.

"Well, if you're not stupid then you'd know what our agreement was about and you wouldn't be acting like this right now!"

Your mouth clamps up shut because you know he's right. Technically speaking, if you weren't in love with Choi San and you both still had the same agreement, you wouldn't give a fuck if he answers your texts or not. You wouldn't have bothered to go out of your way to visit him like this.

But you are in love with him, that's an undisputed fact.

He sighs, eyes falling shut as he takes a second to calm down. When he opens them, his dark orbs meet your own.

"Y/N, nothing is going on, okay?" He says quietly, he motions to his desk. "I'm just stressed and trying to pass my midterms."

San is lying. You know it. He knows it. It's bullshit.

But you're willing to play stupid once again, after all it's what everyone else expects of you.

So you feed yourself some more lies; Son Boyoung isn't the reason for your current predicament. She definitely isn't the reason why Choi San has, out of nowhere, turned into a model student apparently that even sex is something he turns down in favor of studying. And she certainly isn't the reason why he suddenly 'wasn't in the mood' to fuck you.

Lying to yourself brings nothing but pain in the long run and yet, it does comfort you for the time being.

"Fine." You hiss out, not being able to drop the bratty attitude no matter how much you want to. You grab your bag from his bed and head to the door with a huff. "Call me when you actually get your shit together."

"Yeah, whatever." He mutters behind you and you want to scream at the nonchalance that he treats you with.

You stalk down his narrow hallway, heading to the front door. Once again, the bane of your existence also known as Kang Yeosang, thinks that's the perfect time to refill his water bottle.

"Oh, well that was quick." He comments like a smartass. You don't miss the amused smirk on his pretty face, letting you know that he heard the yelling from San's room.

"Fuck off, Yeosang!" You snap as you fling the door open and stalk through it, slamming it shut behind you.

When you arrive home and fling yourself on your bed, you spend the remainder of the night staring at your ceiling where Miguel The Skeleton keeps dancing from one corner of the room to the other.

He has a cute little red bow wrapped around his neck now.

You watch Hongjoong copy something into his notebook as you wait for Mingi to show up in the library the next day.

Hongjoong's hair is split dyed, one half black and the other white and he's dressed in a colorful hoodie and has his big rectangle glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He's so cute.

"I like your hair." You say mindlessly and Hongjoong pauses with his scribblings. He looks up at you with wide eyes.

"Thanks."

"Why do you sound so shocked? It looks good on you." You chuckle, brows knitting together.

"No, I..." Hongjoong laughs, shaking his head. "I know it looks good on me. I just had a feeling that you genuinely didn't want me around and that I was just annoying you by being around you when you're in here."

You stare at him, taken aback by the honest answer as your mouth hangs open and cheeks flush before you recollect yourself.

"That's not true." You say because you genuinely have nothing to say back and Hongjoong looks amused, mostly by the fact that he seems to have made the moment awkward.

He goes back to his scribblings and you fish for something to say. You don't know how to convince someone you actually like them as a friend because you don't like most of your other friends and they already know it as well.

"Uh, Mingi ripped me a new one for not having the practice books last time, so...I'm gonna go find them." You scramble to already stand up from the chair and Hongjoong hums in response.

He was so weird.

You shake your head and walk away to climb up to the second floor where the Computer Science section was.

There weren't many people in the library yet, mostly because classes were still being held. With a hum, you grab two practice books- one which you recognize because your professor mentioned it (and you have a feeling Mingi is the type of guy to never let you live that one down) and the other because it looked like it could be useful as well.

You're about to turn around and leave the section but hushed whispers and giggles make you stop in your tracks.

"San, knock it off!" Your throat seizes up and as if you're a robot, your feet move you closer to the source of the sound.

"Why? You like it." It's his voice. It's San. You've heard enough of his whispers to be able to recognize them anywhere.

You look through the small opening between a row of books and the wooden shelf and almost drop the practice books from your hands.

It's San and Boyoung and God, you're really fucking sick and tired of seeing them together.

San's arms are wrapped around her waist, face tucked into the crook of her neck where he seems to be placing kisses as she tries to push him away through giggles and with threats that she definitely doesn't mean because she looks like she doesn't want to be anywhere else but in his arms.

"Someone could see us." She whispers through a sigh as San places a kiss on her cheek and runs a hand through her loose hair.

"So what?" He shrugs with a smile. You can see his dimples and you want nothing more than to be able to hate them and him. And her.

"Can you just..." Boyoung pushes him jokingly one more time and San steps away with a breathy laugh but doesn't take his eyes away from her. "Can you just get me that book? You know, the reason I brought you here in the first place?"

"Oh, I thought you brought me here so we can make-out." He says and relaxes against the shelves opposite of you so you get a clear vision of him. He's still beautiful.

"San..." She whines in a soft tone that makes San smile the way he never, ever, fucking smiled at you and you feel your heart break over and over again.

"When will you let me take you out on a date?" San asks quietly and you can see Boyoung's face flush a scarlet red. It makes his grin widen.

“No.” You answer simply. “I just came here to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?” He asks but by the teasing tone of his voice and the smirk on his face, you know what he’s playing at. San didn’t want to seem desperate for anyone, it always had to be the other way around. “About what?”

“Just, you know…stuff.” Shrugging, you pursue your lips slightly in thought before deciding to bite the bullet. “Like, when you’re taking me on a date.”

You take pride in knowing that you caught him by surprise because his head whips to you for the second time, his eyes wide, brows raised and lips parted. It all falls into the water fairly quickly though, once he lets a laugh leave him.

“A date, huh?” And he’s back to his fucking work, screwing something in under the hood. His arms have oil stains on them and you shouldn’t find it as attractive as you do.

“Yes.” You say with the most confidence you could possibly muster, not letting your eyes falter for even a second from him.

“I don’t date, princess.” And San says it so softly, almost as if he’s trying to spare you the humiliation. But you never wanted to be spared.

The tears drop voluntarily down your cheeks and you press your lips together tightly to stop yourself from making a sound but your eyes can't look away from them.

"You..." Boyoung shakes her head, tucking herself into his embrace which he gladly accepts by wrapping his arms around her. "You're doing stuff to my heart."

San let's out a louder laugh at that and she smacks his chest gently to shush him.

"You're doing stuff to my heart too, baby, which is why I'm asking you out on a date." He looks down at her with a cheeky grin, "Do you want me to beg?"

His thumb is grazing her cheek and he's looking at her so lovingly. Then he kisses her gently and you have to get out of there.

The hinges are flying out, the door is falling off and the broken mechanisms are out for everyone to see as you run down the stairs of the library and to your table to collect your stuff.

You're crying, hiccupping, sobbing and everyone is fucking staring at you but you don't care this time. They can stare.

"Y/N?" Hongjoong asks hurriedly as you pack up your stuff as quickly as possible, you can't speak through the tears. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

Throwing your notebook in your bag, you stop for a second trying to regulate your breathing before turning to him. "Tell Mingi I can't make it today."

"Wha- Wait, Y/N!"

He doesn't get to speak more because you're already out of the door.

Aroma Mocha is empty when you show up. If you weren't a mess, you'd wonder how this place isn't out of business by now but this time, you were glad.

You sit in the furthest corner, open up your sketchbook and start drawing as the tears fall. You manage to order a coffee through broken sniffles and you don't even care that the waiter probably thinks you're crazy.

You don't know how long you sit there. It could be hours. But your coffee is gone. You're about to order another when a strawberry smoothie is pushed your way.

Hongjoong slides into the seat opposite of you, taking off his jacket as he takes a sip from his own cup.

Neither of you speak, you just continue adding final touches to your drawing and Hongjoong is staring through the window next to you. You didn't even notice it started to rain.

"Mingi told me he saw you here, so I came." He says and motions to the pink smoothie in front of you, "Figured you had enough coffee so I ordered you something sweet."

You say nothing.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Hongjoong sighs quietly, eyes dancing to the rain outside again. "I just thought it would be better if you weren't alone."

Your eyes pick up at that and you focus on him. He's so small and gentle, with a heart almost too big for his own body and an insight on other people's feelings that could be nothing else but a burden.

"You were never annoying me." You start and he turns to you, "Sometimes, hanging out with you at the library would be the best part of my day, so...you were never annoying. I like spending time with you."

He nods with a small smile, you even notice a little blush on his face.

Hongjoong feels like a person you could tell anything to and he would never judge you.

"I feel in love with someone who I knew I should never expect anything from but I still did." You sniffle, dropping down the pencil. "And I don't want to talk about it but you need an explanation to what you saw today so there it is. I saw something that made me sad."

"Okay, thank you." He responds softly, eyes falling to your drawing.

You nod and say nothing more.

He clears his throat.

"Is that your new project?" He asks, motioning to your sketchbook in front of you and the drawing on the first page.

"No." You answer, pushing the sketchbook across the table and towards him. "It's just something stupid."

"It's really cute." Hongjoong smiles, staring at the sketch of the skeleton. His fingers trace over the words you've scribbled down as a title of the drawing. "Miguel The Skeleton. Are you going to turn this in somewhere?"

"What?" You scoff, "Of course not, it's horrible. I just draw stupid stuff like that sometimes."

Hongjoong seems deep in thought after he hears you, eyes glued to the paper in front of him before he looks up at you.

"Would you like to meet a professor of mine?"

The next day everything is officially over.

You walk into the cafeteria and spot San sitting at his usual spot along with Yeosang and Yunho but this time, there is a new addition to the group.

Boyoung is with them. Laughing at something Yunho said and eating her lunch, innocent and completely clueless to what's coming her way. The way San looks at her almost throws you off balance.

The way San looks at Boyoung is the way you look at him. The way your brother used to look at his girlfriend. The way Yeosang looks at-

This idiot. This fool.

San was fucking in love with her.

You walk up to their table with a bright smile at the same time San's smile fades once he catches sight of you approaching them.

"Well, isn't this just lovely?" You quip, throwing your bag down on the table and sitting right next to Yeosang.

"Oh Lord, here we go." Yeosang mutters but as always, you ignore him because all your attention is focused on the couple in front of you.

San is staring at you with hard eyes, you're not stupid and you know he's trying to tell you to keep your mouth shut with how hard he's staring at you.

But San always thought you were stupid before, so today, you'll be fucking stupid.

You turn to Boyoung who almost seems to shrink under your gaze and it causes your grin to widen.

"I don't think we met before. I'm Y/N." You hold your hand out to her and she clasps your hand in her soft one.

"Boyoung." She smiles timidly, eyes returning to her lunch and suddenly the table, which was filled with conversation before you arrived, is quiet.

"So..." You lean on the table by your elbows as you innocently look around, "what are we talking about?"

"Uh..." Yunho starts but is quickly cut off by Yeosang. The pretty Kang Yeosang who never spared you of his words before, so he doesn't this time either.

"It wasn't about you, Y/N. So why don't you leave?" He crosses his arms and looks to your side. You giggle.

"Careful, Yeosang. I can easily make it about me." You say with an easy smile as you make yourself comfortable in your seat. Yeosang pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

"We were talking about how Boyoung eats actual food, actually. Unlike some girls who think salads and a cube of cheese is enough to get them through the day." He smiles at you, knowing you recognized the jab and probably expecting you to blow up.

But Yeosang should've known better today.

Because it's not him you're going to go after. Not when Son Boyoung, pretty, innocent and timid is right in front of you.

Your eyes skip to her and you meet her nervous eyes. You don't really know why she's so scared of you, you haven't done anything. Yet.

As you look at her with dissecting eyes, you wonder if Boyoung's mother cooks her anything she wants when she goes home for the weekend. You wonder if when she was a teenager, did her mom allow her to eat as much as Boyoung wanted despite knowing she can gain weight. You wonder if her mother calls her every day to ask her if she is eating well.

Unlike yours who encourages you to skip meals. Unlike yours who made you eat steamed vegetables when the rest of the family was having delicious food. Unlike yours who strips you down every Sunday and makes you stand on a measuring scale.

"Yeosang." San warns and your eyes fleet to him. He's glaring at Yeosang, jaw clenched and it causes your own anger to spike.

Because the only time Choi San stood up to defend you against his friends was when he was afraid that you would take your anger out on his new plaything.

Your eyes are sharp and your smirk widens as you tilt your head to the side, fixating on Boyoung again.

"That's a really nice sweater, Boyoung." You compliment with a wide smile, eyeing the cobalt blue sweater she has on, "Really pretty color."

Boyoung's brows rise in genuine surprise before a small, shy smile settles on her lips and her shoulders relax. "Thank you."

You know you're going to hate yourself for it, it will eat you up inside. You've played the mean girl enough times but it was always to people who have wronged you. This girl didn't fucking deserve it.

But if there was anything you learned from your own mother- it was how to be a vicious bitch.

"And you know it's a good color when it looks good no matter who wears it."

Yunho's head slightly falls as a deep breath escapes him.

Boyoung's smile fades and cheeks flush as you just keep staring at her with a, now obviously, mocking smile. She looks around the rest of the table, eyes watering as the silence ensues.

"Y/N." It's San, his jaw is locked and eyes set on you. "Don't do this."

"Do what, San?" You ask innocently, leaning across the table a bit more to look straight into his eyes. "I just gave her a compliment."

He stays silent, all of them do but you can tell Yeosang is angry as well.

"So, Boyoung," You drive your attention back to her who sits with cheeks deeply red. "You're not usually the type of girl San is into."

Your eyes asses her once more, glossing over each imperfection that you know she is already aware of. She seems like the type of girl who is insecure in her looks, despite the fact that she's pretty.

"Y/N." San warns but you ignore him. You know he doesn't want to make a scene but you're not going without one.

She will go home tonight and compare herself to you.

Turning to San, you shake your head as a small laugh escapes you. Like the two of you are sharing an inner joke. But San is glaring.

"You would hook up with just about anyone these days." You comment to San like she's not even here. San places his hands on the table to stand up but it's Yeosang that speaks.

"Alright, that's enough! You've made your point, Y/N." Yeosang's face is red as well and you wonder if he feels partly guilty for Boyoung's discomfort.

"Oh, my point?" You mockingly smile. "I haven't even started making my point."

"Y/N, leave!" San is quick to intervene but you turn to Boyoung who looks like a lamb brought to slaughter.

A wicked smile grows on your lips.

"You're not that pretty and you're not that smart either if you believe you have an actual chance with him, so the only logical option is that you're a virgin." Boyoung's blush deepens and she blinks away the tears, you chuckle. "Of course. Of course San would be into that."

"Y/N, enough."

Looking into San's eyes you see nothing but hate. It only makes you desperate to hurt her more.

"He always had a knack for ruining things." Giving Boyoung one last look, she's crying. "I advise you to find someone in your own league and stick to them. God knows you wouldn't have many options-"

"Get the fuck up." San says standing up from his own seat as he glares at you. He's angry, you can tell. And it might even scare you a little.

You stand up slowly, trying to seem unbothered as you place your bag over your shoulder. San grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of the cafeteria, every single pair of eyes stuck to you as you grit your teeth and try not to stumble after him.

When you're in the hallway, he flings you away so fast that you almost stumble into the wall. You turn to face him with a glare of your own.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" San hisses as he steps closer to you so he wouldn't have to yell.

"Is it over? Is it over between us?" You ask in a shaky voice, all pretenses falling away. San looks at you like you're actually stupid.

"Over between us?! There is nothing to be over with, Y/N, we were never anything!" He spits out, looking at you like you're gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"How can you say that?" You whisper, tears lining up and ready to fall. "We slept together for a year, San! Even if it was just sex, when were you planning on telling me!?"

"I don't owe you shit." He says lowly, getting even closer to you and making you back up into the wall.

"You do owe me that!" You exclaim loudly, pushing him by the chest away from you. "I deserved to fucking know!"

You near him now, pointing a finger at him. "We slept together for a whole fucking year. I'm not one of your one-night stands, I deserved to know that I shouldn't fucking wait around for you anymore!"

"Wait around for me?" San asks, his voice gruff.

You take a deep breath before looking up at him once again.

"I'm in love with you." You whisper and his face falls.

Before he lets out a laugh. You just stare at him, watching him laugh as the tears roll down your cheeks, staining the collar of your blouse.

"You're fucking crazy." San finally responds and you feel something in your chest hollow out.

"Don't call me that." You whisper, eyes going to the white tiles of the hallway.

"What? Crazy?" He asks mockingly, "It's what you are. You're fucking crazy."

"I said don't fucking call me that!" You yell out and even San is stunned by the volume before he opens up his arms taking a few steps away from you.

"Look around you." He motions to the hallway and the people shocked by your scream as they pass by and whisper amongst themselves. "You say not to call you crazy but look at the scene you've created in here, in there."

Your wrap your arms around yourself, leaning your back against the wall for support as your bottom lip trembles. You're almost too aware of the eyes on you as they pass by.

San steps closer to you again, getting so close that it's almost too hard to breathe.

"You're not in love with me. If you were, you wouldn't have just tried to ruin the one thing that makes me fucking happy. You're in love with the idea of me, Y/N." San whispers, "You're in love with the guy you met freshman year on that balcony after going through something enough to traumatize you and I comforted you."

"That's why I thought that you might change your mind!" You cry out to him but his eyes are dark and blank, "That's why I thought you might care because you were so swee-"

"I only said what I knew you wanted to hear and what I knew would get me laid."

You look at him in disbelief, mouth opening to talk but nothing comes out and all you feel is complete and utter devastation.

"Do you really think I gave a fuck about your crappy artwork or anything else about you?" San hisses, brows furrowed as he pulls his hand away from you when you try to grab it. Latch onto him.

Yeosang and Yunho are the ones to put up the pink tombstone and they leave shortly after. San is nowhere to be found. No one comes to your funeral.

It says; Here lies Park Y/N, The Dumbest Fucking Bitch There Ever Was.

Next to your birth date, the day that Choi San breaks you apart in the hallway of the main building on campus is engraved as the day of your passing.

"Whether you're in love with me or not, I don't give a fuck. Stay away from me, from Boyoung, from my friends. Stay out of my life because we're done."

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role- ACT I (C.S; S.MG)

title; you don’t love me, big fuckin’ deal

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader

wc: almost 9k

warnings: smut, angst, fluff (if you squint), cursing

a/n: y/n has a really active imagination so there are some parts that might seem weird or make you confused lmao

taglist: @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwaist @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke  @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny​ 

the intro / masterlist / act ii

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?” - James Patterson, The Angel Experiment

You stared at the ceiling of your bedroom, tracing patterns with your eyes that strangely reminded you of planet Earth getting blown to tiny bits and pieces across your ceiling, the oceans dripping down your walls and the lava from it's center splattering across your furniture and burning holes through the expensive cushions your mother placed on your window seat.

You vaguely felt like the world was coming to an end today.

Okay, so that might've been a tad bit dramatic but you wouldn't be you, if you lacked your knack to blow things out of proportion. Your brother often called you a drama queen and if you were still on good terms with him, you may have agreed but ever since your last little spat in the kitchen- Seonghwa could argue that the grass is green and you would be calling it blue just to spite him despite knowing he's obviously in the right.

But back to the end of the world.

There should be an introduction of some sort for the biggest cause of all your current ordeals. And that cause goes by the simple name of Choi San.

You met him at your first ever college party in your freshman year and, for reasons you don't wish to discuss right now, you both ended at an empty balcony of a frat house sharing a cigarette.

You were too frazzled by previous events at first to even notice how handsome Choi San is.

It's when you've successfully calmed down, half of the cigarette gone, that you notice his magnetic eyes that pulled you in and dimples that decorated his cheeks when he smiled.

"I study electrical engineering." He responds to your question of what he majored in. "I'm a third year."

Two years older than you. You were always into older guys.

"You?" San asks with a soft smile, eyes attentively glazing over you. The air is surprising chilly for an August night.

"I'm an art major." You respond, hands stopping their shaking finally as you finally relax.

"Cool. First year?" He asks, taking the cigarette from your hand and taking a drag himself. You watch his lips part as he breathes out the smoke.

"Yeah."

"Do you paint or?" San asks, head cocking to the side as he flicks the ashes off the cigarette.

"I mostly focus on painting, yeah, but I do other stuff as well."

"Hm, that's interesting. I'd like to see some of your art sometime, if you'd allow that." He comments confidently and your cheeks pathetically flush.

You watch him for a second longer and it's then that you realize that you want this guy to be yours.  You don't know anything about him but you want to. You want to know him inside out. You want him. Just like that.

He was handsome. He was sweet. He was intelligent. And he had to be yours. It was all it took for you to get your act together and stop being so squirmy and shaken up.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" San chokes out a laugh at the sudden question and you smile as well, knowing how forward that was even for you.

"No." He shakes his head with another pretty laugh. It's such a light and soft sound that makes your insides flutter. He's single. "Why do you ask, Y/N?"

"Just curious." You shrug with a faint smirk but you both know it's more than that. You confirm it by asking the next question. "Are you looking for a girlfriend then?"

San's smile widens and it makes his dimples pop and eyes crinkle and holy fuck, he has freckles on his neck and he's looking at you so playfully that it makes excitement pulse through your veins.

"Are you volunteering?" He counters your question with an eyebrow raised and smile still intact. You bite your lip, looking away for a moment to stop the smile from appearing on your face.

"Maybe I'm just asking for a friend." You say, feigning disinterest that makes him chuckle. You smile sheepishly, a giggle bubbling out of you.

San hands you back the cigarette, watching you take a drag and then skimming you up and down. His tongue swipes over his lower lip as his eyes stay on your short mini skirt barely covering your thighs for a second too long.

"Well, maybe you should give me your number. You know, so I can text you when I start looking for a girlfriend and you can let your friend know."

And that you do. You give him your phone number with a flirty smile and the smile he gives you back stays in your mind for the rest of the night.

It started innocently, you'd see him around campus after that party and he would throw you that irresistible smirk that makes his dimples pop with a "hey, Y/N" uttered in his mellow voice. His fingers brushing your waist enough so it would seem accidental but drag the point across that he was trying to get your attention as he passed you by. They were simple incidents, sneaky gestures that you couldn't even call flirting properly but it's how he was slowly pulling you into his web. Soon enough, you were seeking him out on your own, waiting and wondering if today would be the day that something would actually happen.

In the end, as always, you had to take matters into your own hands.

A month passed since you met him and San still hadn't made a proper move on you by then- you were impatient, horny and extremely curious about him.

And you're not the type to sit around and wait, if Choi San wasn't planning on coming to you- then you would go to him.

He worked at a mechanic repair shop near campus and no, that wasn't information you stalked out of him. San mentioned it at the party during your brief conversation. 'It's hard work, but I learn a lot and the pay is good', he had said with a charming smile.

The shop is easy to find, true to what San said, it's just a ten minute drive off campus. There's a boy with bright red hair sitting in front of the shop when you park your car and get out, your heeled boots clicking against the pavement making his attention turn to you.

He looks young with big eyes and round cheeks, oddly reminding you of a teddy bear.

The boy has a cigarette stuck mid-air in his hand as he watches you with his jaw slightly agape, carefully following the swish of your short skirt. You glance at him with a dazzling smile.

"Hi." You greet him simply, passing by and he simply stares with round eyes and parted lips after you, mind too bamboozled to come up with anything to say. You enter the darker, stuffy space that smelled like oil and whatever else they used in these macho, no-women allowed places. You wouldn't know.

There are posters and calendars of naked women on the walls and music is playing from the old radio. Shelves with random tools are littering the walls and a small door with 'office' on it is smacked in the middle of the main space.

Locating San is easier than you thought because it seemed like only him and the red haired guy were here today. You find him under the hood of some car, arms flexing as he uses his little tools to fix whatever needed to be fixed, you presume.

"Hey." You greet softly, lips pulling into a small smile as you walk further into the space and near him.

San's head whips towards you with furrowed brows. He looks utterly confused by your appearance but nonetheless, a smile pulls on his plush lips as he straightens out his tall frame to look at you properly, gaze roaming over your cropped sweater, short plaid skirt and down your legs that sported leather boots which reached your knees.

"Y/N." He responds, licking his lips as he stares at you for a second longer. "Hey."

You clear your throat, his gaze making you feel hot all over as you turn your attention to something else.

"That's a nice...car." You have no idea what kind of car it is. To you, it's just a car. A red car, at that. You were never interested in them, if you were honest. It was only important that the car was able to take you from one place to the other, the brand or year or whatever didn't matter at all to you.

San's chuckle rings through the dimmed space and you circle around him, trying to seem unbothered when you were in fact, a little bit embarrassed to not knowing anything about cars.

"Do you have a car that would require any of my services, princess?" He asks, going back to his work below the hood of the car as you stand by the side, careful not to lean on the wall or brush up against anything that would leave a stain on your outfit.

"No." You answer simply. "I just came here to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" He asks but by the teasing tone of his voice and the smirk on his face, you know what he's playing at. San didn't want to seem desperate for anyone, it always had to be the other way around. "About what?"

"Just, you know...stuff." Shrugging, you pursue your lips slightly in thought before deciding to bite the bullet. "Like, when you're taking me on a date."

You take pride in knowing that you caught him by surprise because his head whips to you for the second time, his eyes wide, brows raised and lips parted. It all falls into the water fairly quickly though, once he lets a laugh leave him.

"A date, huh?" And he's back to his fucking work, screwing something in under the hood. His arms have oil stains on them and you shouldn't find it as attractive as you do.

"Yes." You say with the most confidence you could possibly muster, not letting your eyes falter for even a second from him.

"I don't date, princess." And San says it so softly, almost as if he's trying to spare you the humiliation. But you never wanted to be spared.

"So what? You just fuck around then?" You ask boldly, although you have to admit, your chest deflated a bit after his statement. So, he wasn't ever even looking for a girlfriend.

"Pretty much, yeah." San nods quietly, before his sharp eyes meet your own. "If you're interested in that, we'll gladly work something out."

"You mean, like,..." You slowly walk closer to him, sitting down on the side of the car and being extremely aware of his gaze on you. "Friends with benefits?"

So he was that type of guy. Interesting. You were in so much fucking trouble, you knew then and there.

"Yeah, something like that." He nods simply, lips quirking up and showing off his dimples. His eyes roam over your frame, sitting at not even an arms length away from him. "You'll get dirty sitting there."

Your eyes meet his and a new fire sets ablaze inside of you as lick your lips, thinking over how this could go.

"I don't mind getting dirty."

Something flashes across his eyes and he let's out a breathless chuckle at your words, gaze unmoving from your from your face. You gulp down the nervousness because everything with him feels like getting thrown into the deep end without knowing if you can make it back.

He straightens out again, no longer hunched over the hood of the car and he grabs a rag to clean his hands with best effort. "Is that so?"

In your head, this is where you're a gazelle, prancing around the prairie and he's the sharp lion, circling around you in the tall grass, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. He expects you to jump up and run when you hear the rustle of the leaves.

But you won't fight. You won't run. You'll sit on the soft green and wait for him, a meal set on a silver platter.

San drags his nose up the column of your neck and you cock your head to the side to give him more access as you grip the side of the car to steady you. His calloused hands grip your thighs and spread them apart easily with your permission as he steps between them.

"You wanna have some fun, princess?" He asks in a hushed tone, hooded eyes staring down at you and making warmth pool on the bottom of your stomach.

"Yes." You whisper against him. He's so close, his lips a couple of inches away from your own.

"Then you came to the right guy." And if anyone else used that line, you would've rolled your eyes but it was San. You couldn't even mind if he was a little corny.

Instead, your hand reaches up to the back of his neck so you can finally kiss him- your patience running thin. Just as your lips are about to touch his, he dodges them and they brush against your cheek instead.

"No kissing on the mouth." He says against your cheek, squeezing your thighs a little bit.

"Why?" You're not even ashamed that you ask it through a pathetic whine. You want to kiss him.

San takes his time with his answer, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck that makes you sigh out loud as his hands travel up your mini skirt and fingers curl around the elastic band at your hips as he steps back so you can close your legs. He tugs the stretchy collar of your sweater down with his teeth, revealing your bra before looking up at you and releasing the material from his mouth. Your legs quiver a bit.

"We can have fun without that."

And he pulls the panties down your thighs, stopping them at your knees and his fingers flutteringly glide over the bare skin at the back of your knees as he stands up straight, gripping your legs a bit firmer, now.

"Y/N, do you want that?" San asks seriously and you swallow down the saliva that gathered in your mouth before licking your lips, "If you don't, there's no problem. We'll just act like it never happened."

"I do." You nod deciding that if you're choosing doom then at least it's with Choi San. A gazelle sitting pretty on a silver platter.

San nods his head slowly, a gorgeous grin stretching across his lips that makes your heart (and pussy) flutter as he continues where he left off and starts dragging your panties down your calves. Once the thin, flimsy material is off of you- San tucks it in his back pocket.

"You're not getting these back." He whispers to you teasingly before dropping to his knees on the dirty floor.

You notice his hands aren't completely clean of the oil because of the stains they leave on your thighs, it serves as a reminder to where you exactly are.

"Wait," You say and he looks up at you. You turn to face the door before returning your attention to San. "I don't want anyone walking in-"

"Princess," San stops you, spreading your legs wide apart that has you gasping, "Jongho knows not to let anyone in here when I have company."

He presses kisses up your thighs, eyes watching as you finally allow yourself to relax.

And then his mouth is between your legs and he's suckling and licking and twirling his tongue around in just the right way that you can't even be bothered to question what he just said.

Jongho knows not to let anyone in here when I have company. Which would mean he does stuff like this often. With other girls.

"Oh-" You choke out a gasp, hand ending up twisted in San's midnight hair as you throw your head back and grind down against his face. All thoughts of how many girls he had like this before you are completely gone out of your head because it's you that's feeling that good now.

"San-ah..." You, at least, try to be quiet but San is probably the most experienced guy you've been with so far. Which fair enough, there weren't a lot, you only had two boyfriends before this. But he picks up on where to touch and lick fairly easily, his hands never leaving his grip on your thighs as you moan and groan in wanton while he devours your pussy like he'll never have it again.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna-" You whine, back arching off of the side of the car where you were perched up at and your orgasm washed up and down your body as San's name in moans and sighs leaves your lips.

He licks up your release and you twitch and whine at the sensitivity before he stands up and levels you with another smirk.

"Is that how its going to be?" San questions, cocking his head to the side as he observes you with hooded eyes and arms caging you against the car on each side. Your confused face gets him to elaborate on his question. "Are you going to come in less than 2 minutes every time I go down on you?"

You blush ferociously at that, looking away to the side as a small whine escapes you which makes San laugh. The sound of it is smooth and melodic, it makes your heart flutter.

"S-sorry, I-"

"No, don't apologize for that." San interrupts you with another chuckle, brows furrowed almost as if he found you ridiculous. Did he find you ridiculous? "We can work on that now that we'll be seeing each other often."

That sentence causes you to gulp as you look up at him again. You're reminded of the 'work something out' part he mentioned earlier and it strangely felt like you're about to sell a piece of your soul to the devil. And maybe you will, only this devil didn't have a three piece and horns but a beautiful smile and fucking dimples.

You're about to reach out for the button on his jeans, as a means of returning the favor after the mind blowing orgasm you just experienced but he's quick to gently push your hand away.

"Not today." San says, his voice sounds deeper and raspier than usual. "Look at this as payment for having to drive all the way to here."

You wordlessly nod because you're not sure what to say. Is that what sex is to him? A transaction?

"Do we have an agreement though? On the having fun together part?" He asks, cocking his head to the side as his dark eyes bore into yours. He was too fucking handsome. A dream guy.

"Yeah." You respond after clearing out your dry throat.

"Great, I'm happy to hear that, princess." That makes butterflies erupt in your stomach because you don't know that he's always 'happy to hear that'. You think you're special. "I'm going to need your phone number."

Your heart drops at that as your lips pull into a small smile at the corner of your mouth while your eyes drop to the floor.

"You already have it. I gave it to you at the party, remember?" If he's surprised or embarrassed he doesn't show it, only nods with the same grin meaning he doesn't give a fuck that he got caught not remembering.

"Right, well, you should go now." San says, placing a small kiss to your forehead. "I have to finish this before my boss shows up in an hour."

"Okay." And you're turning on your heal and walking away. Until San calls you after a couple of steps.

You turn around to find him watching you with those dark, hooded eyes.

"Pull your skirt down." He says, as if he has any right to order you around.

With a scoff, you pull on the waist of your skirt and hike it up even further up your body, revealing more of your thighs which now had grey oil stans on them before you're turning around and walking away after giving him a small smirk.

His laugh rings through the stuffy and darkly lit space.

Jongho, as you learn his name is, doesn't look at you in the eye when you walk out but you can see him jump a little when you open the front door to find him not moved from his seat. His cheeks are flushed red and he clears his throat. You find him adorable.

"See you around!" You sing to him with another dazzling smile, completely unashamed that he probably heard you have an orgasm not even five minutes ago.

"B-bye." Jongho stutters out, and you know his eyes are trained on your long legs with oil stains on your thighs as you walk to your car.

San texts you three days after that, he doesn't even beat around the bush a little and instead, simply asks if you want to hang out in his dorm around nine. You say yes, of course.

San's frat had an entire apartment building for themselves so it was three guys on one apartment and it was a pretty neat living situation for a college student (not that you would know, you lived at home still). He quickly gave you a tour of the apartment and then took you to his room.

And then, he fucked you. Really, it was that easy.

You didn't know if it was some sort of special treatment he gives to girls when he has sex with them for the first time but it was the best sex you will ever have with him.

He made you come four times that night. Once on his tongue, once on his fingers, once on his tongue and fingers and then, on his dick.

You remember leaving his place at around three in the morning, worn out and sore but so fucking satisfied and happy because you had him. You had Choi San.

Except you didn't.

Or maybe you did in a way. Yeah, you did have Choi San but so did a dozen of others. You didn't care to remember their names except for one. Seo Yeojin.

She was his favorite one. Or at least, that's what your friend Minjung told you. Now, Minjung was usually a backstabber and someone you could absolutely never rely on- but she knew her gossip.

It was a first to hear about this Seo Yeojin, though. Never met her, never heard of her. But you did allow a shot of satisfaction to run through your system at the fact that she knew about you and she didn't like you.

Usually, you didn't care what people thought of you. You grew up surrounded by the upper class so if you let everyone's opinion affect you, you would be six feet underground a long time ago but knowing that Seo Yeojin disliked you without ever even meeting you could mean only one thing- she was threatened.

Something about that made you feel giddy, if you were honest.

The first time you come face to face with her is at a party a week after you hook up with San for the first time.

You're in the spacious bathroom of some college house, fixing your lip gloss when a girl walks in the room. You make eye contact with her through the mirror and can see her stare you up and down but you don't do anything about, typically used to people sizing you up.

It's when she steps towards the sink and fishes out a cheap drug store lipstick which she begins applying to her lips, that  you get a hunch on who is next to you.

"You're Y/N?" Her voice is higher than you expect and you turn to her, to look at her properly.

"Who's asking?" You ask simply, turning your attention back to your reflection in the mirror.

"San's girlfriend." Her response makes you let out a loud laugh and you can tell it pisses her off with the way she flushes and her hands clench into fists. Terrible manicure, you notice.

"San's girlfriend?" You counter with a tiny smirk, eyes crinkled at the corners. Playing indifferent and being obnoxious is something you have mastered by now and yes, you put it to good use most of the time.

"Yeah. I'm the one in his bed almost every night, so you could say that I'm his girlfriend." She says flicking her damaged hair over her shoulder and you have to stop your eye from twitching at her admission. This was Seo Yeojin. You refuse to let her know that she has any sort of effect on you. It would be humiliating.

"Well, shit. I guess I'm San's girlfriend, too." Is what you say, leaning against the sink by your hip and crossing your arms over your chest, a smirk still playing on your lips.

"Don't piss me off, kid-"

"Is there a reason why you're talking to me right now?" You interrupt, fuse running short the moment she uttered the word 'kid' as if the fact that you're younger than her, gives her the upper hand somehow.

"Yeah." She nods, crossing her own arms over her chest. "Don't let him giving you attention get to your head, you're not anyone special to him. You're just a little freshman who still doesn't know what she just got herself into."

"It seems like you're not anyone special to him either, if he's fucking me. A little freshman who doesn't know what she got herself into." You draw out, smirk dropping for once as you glare at her.

It's fucking embarrassing, arguing with another girl in a bathroom at a party over a guy who doesn't give a shit about either of you. But you have too much pride to be the bigger guy and walk away from an argument, especially an argument with a bitch who thinks she has any claim over the guy you were currently infatuated with.

"You have some balls, I'll give you that." She chuckles almost in disbelief as she glares at you equally hard. Before her face softens and an annoyingly pretty smile grows on her lips. "But I'm his favorite one. Always was and always will be."

"Not for long." You mutter before you could stop yourself and if you cared that she heard you, you might've been a little bit nervous.

She takes a step towards you, arms falling to her sides.

"I'd take the attitude down a notch or two, freshie." She whispers with a knowing smirk that causes your jaw to clench in annoyance, the indifferent facade easily cracking. "You'll be interesting to him for a week and then you'll get put on the back-burner while he returns to someone who actually knows what they're doing."

She's a year older than San which means she's three years older than you and you should respect her, she's a senior after all. But the catty part of you just doesn't allow it, her words filling up a new type of rage because; is this the type of girl that was San's first choice?

She was pretty but not that pretty and definitely not prettier than you. Her face was regular, there were a dozen of girls that looked like her at this exact party. Boring, cheap clothes and with the way she articulates herself and moves, she's not particularly smart or classy either. What was there to favour so much?

"Maybe you're used to being placed on the back-burner Yeojin," You utter, jutting your chin out in confidence that looks very real to everyone but yourself. Her smile falters when she realizes that you know her name. With a snarky smile, you take a step forward. "but not me. I'm not forgotten so easily."

Yeojin lets out a disbelieving chuckle, her eyes narrowing as she stares you down with her jaw slightly dropped.

"We'll see about that, freshie." And she's walking away, leaving you to stare at your own reflection in the mirror. The hinges are so close to coming off and for the first time, you think that you bit off more than you could chew with Choi San but....But.

You were never a quitter. Ever since you were little, you were taught that if you wanted something you should stop at nothing to make it yours and you fucking wanted Choi San.

But seeing and hearing all of this about him. About his reputation. It caused something heavy to sit down at the bottom of your stomach. Days passed and you saw the other girls, heard the other stories and got enough warnings- all very helpful in building an image in your head of who Choi San really was.

Heck, even he himself told you he doesn’t fucking date.

You realized very early on that you could never be the only one in his book and sometimes even you had to settle with the next best thing . So in this matter, if you couldn't be the only one- the next best thing was to be the favorite one. To take Seo Yeojin's place.

And maybe, from there, you could meticulously work and plan on how to become the only one.

So you slowly started going up the list of his girls. It was such a disgusting label. San's girl. But that's what all of you were. A pretty girl that he fucked around with and the one that sometimes got the privilege to be let into his small, elite circle of friends. You fucked him the way he liked, left when he said to leave and pretended like you were completely okay with everything being San's way. It's what the favorite one did, wasn't it?

And being the favorite one meant being one step ahead of the competition at all times which, and you don't say it to be mean, wasn't hard at all.

The girls San usually slept with were so...basic. If you lined them up next to each other, you would think that they were all variations of the same person. The same very basic fashion style that they probably saw their favorite Instagram influencer wear bought off of Shein, the same eyebrows, same lip liners, same cookie-cutter mold that made none of them stand out in the mass of girls he had flocking around him.

They all looked like each other. Which wasn't a bad thing, they were pretty (he wouldn't fuck them if they weren't pretty). But you were simply better.

For starters, you never wore the same outfit twice and your jewelry didn't leave blue prints on your skin because it wasn't fake. You looked pretty with or without makeup and a bottle of your perfume costed almost as much as their three monthly rents. You didn't look like you got picked off of someone's Instagram feed and you actually knew how to apply your bronzer and trim your eyebrows to suit your face. In looks, you easily triumphed over the rest.

They were superficial reasons, you were very aware and San didn't care for any of that. A pretty girl was a pretty girl to him, he didn't give a fuck about her outfit unless when he was planning on taking it off of her. The real reason why you were the favorite one was because in San's book you were listed under 'The Rich, Spoilt Brat That Not Everyone Could Have', and he had you.

Men always liked knowing that they were special enough to attain something which was otherwise considered untouchable and San was no fucking different. Knowing that he had the rich girl who didn't fuck around with just anyone under his thumb got him going.

You could tell he liked it when you walked into the room and everyone's attention went to you but you were looking at him. He enjoyed knowing that he was the only one taking you to bed and you often wondered if you didn't have the old-money name to back you up; would you be on the same pile as the rest of the girls you surpassed?

Thinking about what made you special to Choi San was a dangerous game. Was it the sex, the high-fives he gets from his friends for fucking the granddaughter of one of Korea's richest CEOs or could it ever be just you?

Still, you enjoyed it. He didn't love you but at least he knew you were better than the rest.

And boy, did that feel good as you stared back into Yeojin's eyes with a smirk pulling on your glossy lips as you placed a soft hand on San's arm which was draped over your shoulder in the smoky, crowded room almost two months after your first meeting in that bathroom. He was conversing with Yunho, not paying an inkling of attention to you but at least, he wasn't paying attention to anyone else either.

Especially not Yeojin.

'I win.' You mouth to her, and you know there's a mean look in your eyes but you knew that if Yeojin was in your place, she'd be gloating just as much (if not more) to your face.

So you don't feel all that bad about it.

You were the new favorite now.

And you remain the favorite one all through your freshman year and the summer after it.

There are other girls, of course, but they're all one-night stands and flings that come and go. You're the only one he keeps by his side, no matter how many times he's fucked you. It's a burden as much as it is a relief because while San wants you around, you're constantly looking over your shoulder to check if someone else caught his attention for the night. It's pathetic and demeaning.

It's even more demeaning when you're in the presence of his friends when he decides to hook up with someone else for the night. His friends, Yunho and Yeosang, hate you.

Yunho is two-faced and at least pretends to be nice to you when you're in their presence at a party or share a lunch table at the cafeteria, even though you know he bad-mouths you the moment you turn your back.

Yeosang on the other hand, well... he is just nasty to you to your face. If he didn't outright despise you, you might've liked him a little bit. You might've even tried to be his friend because you always had a thing with people for no filter.

Also Yeosang gives off the vibe that he's maybe killed a man, but if you were to ask him directly about it, any answer would feel like he's lying. Which makes him even more interesting.

But San's friends weren't the only problem. Your own friends weren't any better because they were trying to fuck San.

Now, everyone must be thinking; Y/N, with what kind of people do you surround yourself with? And the answer is pretty simple- terrible people.

You didn't really care how honest or trustworthy anyone was because almost every single one of your friendships was for the sake of connections and climbing up the social ladder. Also at the time, you had Seonghwa. He was your best friend.

But your friends were actively trying to fuck the guy you had some serious feelings for and the worst part is that one of them succeeded. Jennie fucked San almost half a year after you started hooking up with him and she rubs it in your face to this day.

You were hurt obviously but not so much by Jennie because you didn't give a fuck about her. You were hurt by San. Why would he sleep with your friend? Even if you two weren't together, surely there must be some sort of rule in the friends-with-benefits rulebook that says you can't fuck each other's other friends.

And you could get back at him, you know you could go and fuck someone else but why would you? San wouldn't care in the slightest and you'd only give yourself away to someone to try and spite someone else.

If nobody concluded by now, your life was kind of a mess but San was the hurricane in the center.

When you thought about him, you imagined the two of you in a whirlwind of tangled hands, twirling in the middle of a steep hill. Your hair is whipping you in the face from the speed of your movements, white dress clinging to your body as you stare at him from across from you.

Big, beautiful smile with dimples popping and eyes crinkled. Black, soft hair falling dancing with the wind and revealing his handsome face. White button-down shirt getting swayed by his each movement.

He's yelling; "Let go, Y/N! Let go of my hands!" with a big smile on his face, "Let go of me, Y/N!" But you never do, instead you stubbornly hold on as both of your feet pick up pace and you twirl even faster.

But you handled it well. The unrequited love, the traitors you call friends, the snarky remarks from his friends. You took it like a champ because you were the favorite one and no-one could take that from you.

Until Son Boyoung walks into the picture, or rather bumps into it.

Like every plot-shifting, drama- starting event in Gossip Girl, it all starts with a party. The first party of your second year of college to be precise.

A party you didn't even want to go to if you were honest, you might've just preferred to fuck San in his dorm and then leave because that's how the night will end anyway. This entire tradition of getting ready for two hours to be surrounded by horny college boys trying to get with you while San partied around got old a long time ago.

"Wanna go?" San's breath coasts over your ear and it makes you shiver lightly as you nod in response. His breath smells like beer but he's not drunk, you can tell because his eyes are still crystal clear and he wasn't tripping over his tongue yet.

You let him lead the way, his pointer finger wrapped around your own loosely so he doesn't lose you in the crowd as you both make your way through the dimmed room.

You both don't make it three steps forward before someone is bumping into San and causing you to bump into his back when he stops in his tracks suddenly.

You're more focused on the fact that there's beer spilled all over his shirt now rather than who spilled it on him as you gasp lightly.

"Watch where you're going." San says darkly to the smaller figure in front of him and for the first time you turn your attention to the girl who was hold an, now, empty cup in her hands and looking absolutely mortified. You kick yourself to this day for feeling bad for her.

"You're the one that bumped into me." Your brows raise in surprise at the sudden bravery in her voice. She still looks small and slightly nervous, but she's stubbornly holding her own and you can't help but respect her a little for it. "You watch where you're going."

And she's pushing past both you and San with him only left staring at her back with his jaw slightly dropped and gaze pissed off. His jaw clenches, eyes on the unknown girl for a second longer before he's nodding for both of you to head to the entrance.

As always, you both walk side by side to his dorm which is just a three minute walk from the place where the party is held. Usually, this is your favorite part because it's when San is the sweetest to you.

His attempt to woo you out of pure courtesy because you both know he doesn't have to since you would sleep with him with or without the sweet words but he still does, maybe he knows how much you like them.

Tonight, he's agitated by something and it doesn't even cross your mind that it might have something to do with the girl from earlier.

"What's up with you?" You ask lightly, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt teasingly. It seems to snap him out of the staring contest with the pavement because his head snaps to you.

"Nothing important." He replies with a crooked smile. His finger gets hooked around the belt hoop of your mini skirt and he pulls you closer to his side as you both walk down the empty street. You let out a loud laugh at that, attempting to push him off but only ending up with his arm draped across your shoulder.

"You want something to drink?" San asks as you enter his unit. You push off the high-heeled boots off of your feet, leaving them by the door and immediately going to his room.

"Water!" You shout back, knowing that you're alone in his apartment because you've seen both Yeosang and Yunho at the party tonight.

You tune out San's shuffling in the kitchen as you take your jacket off and throw it across the chair next to his desk. You turn on the desk lamp, not bothering with the ceiling light and look over his cozy bedroom. It's messy but in a very organized way and you always find some new detail in it to nitpick over, all in hopes to learn something new about him.

Tonight, it's his small collection of records which sits in a neat row at the bottom of his small bookshelf. It's a mix of old school bands and RnB records with an occasional indie artist that you're not familiar with. You wonder if he plays them while studying or does he use them to impress girls?

Two hands hooking below your elbow catch you by surprise and with a small squeak you're lifted to your feet, back coming in contact with a firm chest.

"You're always snooping around my room." San comments in a hushed voice against your ear and you know he's smiling. His hands lightly skim over your hips before they rest on your stomach. You huff.

"I'm not snooping!" You defend yourself with a pout, watching over the little knick-knacks scattered over his desk. "Just...observing."

He chuckles against you before you feel him reach for something behind you.

"Your water, princess." A bottle of water comes to your view and you take it with a 'thank you' before opening it and taking a couple of gulps. "And if you're done with your 'observing'..."

San's hands return to your front only this time, they don't rest on your stomach but starts fiddling with the button of your skirt until it's undone and he's tugging on it until it slides down your legs and hits the floor.

"I was observing. Don't get a big head." You giggle with a small whine, worried that you'll spill water over the floor because of his wandering hands and kisses pressed to your neck.

It doesn't take long for you to get in the mood with San simply because you always want him. Something about him is so irresistible and so magnetic that something as easy as a pretty smile can turn you to mush.

You place the water bottle down on his desk and relax in his hold, relishing in his touches and kisses pressed to your skin. With his hands wrapped around your middle, he walks you both backwards to his bed and pulls you into his lap.

The kisses to your neck turn hotter and slower as one hand dips between your thighs, fingers running up and down your clothed heat while the other feels hot and heavy on your waist. A sigh leaves you, head lulling back onto his shoulder and giving him more access to your neck as you start grinding down on his lap while his fingers continue to tease you.

"God," San sighs lowly into your ear, lips at your temple as you grind down harder on him.

"San, do something." You whine against him.

Suddenly, you're picked up and placed on the bed with him hovering above you. He tugs your panties down and throws them over his shoulder before quickly spitting on his hand and spreading the essence over your cunt, slicking you up with parted lips and watchful gaze.

"Fuckin' pretty." He mutters and you whimper a little as his fingers start carefully rubbing your clit, the motion making your hips jolt.

His fingers dip inside of you, stretching you out and making you moan softly as your back arches off of the bed.

"San, please." You whisper through a moan, looking up at him and letting out a loud groan when his thumb brushes your clit. "J-just fuck me. Please."

"Whatever you want, princess." And his fingers slide out of you.

You watch him remove the black shirt he had on, admiring his broad shoulders and toned stomach. A silver necklace decorates his chest, hair swept to the side and lips flushed and you can't stop the staring. He's beautiful.

When he catches your eyes on him, San laughs lightly and grazes your hip with his fingers before rummaging through his bedside table to find a condom  and it makes you smile sheepishly as you adjust yourself on the bed.

Soon enough, the rest of his clothes are discarded and you remember you still have your top on which you quickly slide off of yourself and throw to the floor.

San pulls you towards him by your ankle and you squeak in surprise before it turns into a laugh when his fingers dig into your waist, tickling you. He puts the condom on swiftly before nestling himself between your legs.

You mewl when he slides inside of you, the delicious stretch overwhelming you accompanied by the torturous kisses to your neck and collarbones that turn into soft bites when he starts thrusting into you.

"Always feel so good." He mutters, hips snapping into yours as you grip his shoulders. Soft whines and whimpers leave you as the familiar feeling in your stomach starts building and your nails dig into the skin of his back.

"Fuck, San..." You sigh when his lips wrap around your nipple, tongue rolling over the sensitive bud. He pulls away with a groan, lips trailing upwards before his face is buried in your neck, breath coasting over your sensitive skin and making goosebumps rise.

"Say my name, again." He whispers against your neck, hips bucking into yours which causes you to moan loudly.

"San..." You whisper, hand getting tangled in his dark hair. His name continues to leave your lips like a prayer with each thrust and his lips trace your skin.

And that's how both of you lose yourselves in the moans and shared breaths, skin on skin, profanities and lewd noises filling his room until the coil in your stomach is snapping and you're coming undone underneath him so hard that you see white in front of your eyes. San finishes not long after you, filling up the condom with a low groan against your skin and all that's left are heavy breaths that fill up the silence and cold air meeting, now, sweaty skin.

You often think how if this was some other guy, you would probably be kissing him while he fingers you, while he's balls deep inside of you, after he makes you come and you've come down from the high and in a daze. But not with San. He doesn't kiss.

You found it peculiar and wondered why because if he's willing to eat you out, why was he so against something as innocent as kissing? And after days of pondering over it, you finally understood.

Kissing is way too intimate for him.

Sex was something incredibly normal and daily for San. Well, sex is normal in general. Everyone fucks. But to San, it was just an action that he did with the means of getting off and it didn't represent anything special to him.

Kissing, on the other hand, didn't always lead to sex. Sometimes you just kissed people because you wanted to kiss them. Wanted to have them close like that, wanted to feel that tender moment of when your lips disconnect and you look into each other's eyes, wanted to express how you feel towards them through tongues.

San never kissed you. He only ever had sex with you.

And sex didn't mean anything to San so it subsequently followed that you didn't mean anything to him either.

The end of the world that you were currently mulling over though, happens on the first Monday after that night.

It was the first day of classes of your second year of college and after four hours of classes, you find yourself in the campus cafeteria. Coincidentally, San has lunch at the same time as you. Well, Yunho and Yeosang are with him as well but who gives a fuck about them.

"Hi guys!" You greet cheerily, sitting down at an empty seat and placing your lunch box in front of you. San gives you an amused eyebrow raise while Yunho nods at you in greeting, neither saying much. Thank God Kang Yeosang is there though.

"Oh, Jesus." He mutters and you sigh, suppressing an eye roll as you open your lunch box and take out your chopsticks. "Don't you have a Twice video to stream or something? Why are you here?"

"I did that last night while I was doing my nails, Yeosang." You reply simply, taking a bite out of your salad. "I'm having lunch just like you."

"Well, can you take your plated grass somewhere else?" He asks with a sarcastic smile as he eyes your salad with distaste and you clench your fists, holding yourself back from lashing out at him the way you want to. They way you always want to but don't, for the sake of staying in San's good graces.

Instead, you fix yourself up in a polite smile.

"There's plenty of space here."

You only get an eye roll in response and he turns to Yunho, starting a conversation about some topic you don't really care about.

You open your mouth to ask San how his first day of classes was but when you turn your head to him, you're completely gagged by the expression on his face and it quickly makes you clamp your mouth shut.

San looks determined and intrigued, which wouldn't be anything out of the usual, if his attention wasn't directed to something over your shoulder. Or rather someone.

You follow the direction of his gaze, eyes scanning the almost empty area and wondering who he was looking at so intently and so wistfully. The red head? The tall girl with a wolf cut...she might be his type. The girl that's rumored to model for Calvin Klein?

It's when she catches your attention. Sitting behind an empty table, in a sweatshirt that swallows half of her body, hair braided and falling over one shoulder and earphones plugged in as she writes something down in her notebook, is the girl from the party. The girl who spilled her beer all over San.

She's sitting alone, a little bit to the side and she's got a pretty face but in the sea of pretty girls surrounding her, she is completely unnoticeable and plain. You turn to face San again, his eyes would fly behind your shoulder too often for your liking.

Surely, he couldn't be...?

"I'd be worried if I was in your place, princess." Kang Yeosang whispers in your ear and you jump a little, surprised by the sudden closeness. "It seems like you're about to get replaced by a nerd."

Your eyes connect with his and your stomach twists at the annoyingly pretty but vicious smirk on his lips, eyes dancing with mirth.

You want to laugh in his face. You want to tell him that a girl so mediocre could never be even up to your knees. Even the fact that you’re comparing yourself to her is ridiculous. You were you and that Plain Jane could never be a threat.

But words fail you because this doesn't feel like all the other times a pretty girl would catch San's attention. The fact that she doesn't fit San's type of pretty girls makes you clutch the chopsticks firmly and you can't find yourself to respond as you turn to San once again and your heart drops.

That's how the world explodes on the ceiling of your bedroom later on, this afternoon as you replay what happened at lunch over and over again while laying on your bed. From San's intrigued gaze to Yeosang's words to the way even you felt something shift during that lunch because...

While you were looking at San, San was looking at her.

[nonclassyparty]

starring role act 2

hi everyone, sorry for clogging up your notifs like this but i had to separate the taglist from the posted chapter because im having trouble with my tags so while i work through that i just wanted to let everyone know that part 2 has been posted!

taglist: @joonsthethicc  @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwaist @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke  @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny @kpopnightingale @xosim @raineadlr

[berryunho]

taglist: @knucklesdeepmingi @atzcoke @kpopnightingale @ferrethyun @floatingpluto @wooandtaeluvr @atoz151 @belletiny @avantalem @marievllr-abg @some-distant-century @dysftopia @kodzukein @the-maze-of-books @dogsongy @calirix @sankatchu @elk-1998 @ghoekman apologies to those that couldn't be tagged i hate tumblr </333

THE ANSWER: XXIV

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 9,348

“Greet your friend.” Hongjoong gestures behind you, nodding his head in the direction of the door. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds since she called out to you, but your terror drags every second out to the expanse of infinity. 

The world moves in slow motion as you turn your head. You hardly register her face before you’re fighting for release of your arm, throwing your elbow back into Seonghwa’s chest as hard as you can muster. 

He doesn’t let you go; instead, he grabs your other arm as well, pulling you against him. You fight his grip, not taking your eyes off of her face for a second. You try to scream, try to think of a single word to say, but there is nothing that you can do. Seonghwa restrains you perfectly, not even flinching against your protests. 

Haseul looks as scared as you feel as the realization catches up with her. At her side, Mingi wraps his own hand around her arm, locking her in place. 

You hardly even process Mingi’s presence at her side, your eyes locked on Haseul as her face contorts in confusion. You struggle against Seonghwa’s hold on you, trying to do anything you can to get out of his grasp. He pays you no mind at all.

Hongjoong’s hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing you tightly. “Looks like you’re a bit emotional, (Y/n).” He clicks his tongue, leaving your side to approach Haseul himself. “San, why don’t you bring her to your apartment?” It���s not a suggestion. 

You swing your head to look at San, your eyes wide with warning. There’s no chance in hell that you’re letting Haseul out of your sight, let alone leaving her with Hongjoong. San looks between you and Hongjoong, a pained expression on his face. This is the decision, the one he couldn’t make, right in front of him. You didn’t want it to come so soon, either.

Hongjoong sticks his hand out to Haseul as he approaches her, and you finally find your voice. “Don’t fucking touch her.” 

He looks back at you, feigning confusion as he grabs her hand into his own. He turns back to Haseul, over enunciating his words to ensure that you hear them. “Sorry for the confusion, Haseul.” He shakes her hand, resting his free hand over their joint hands. “I’m Hongjoong, the…" he trails off, looking shy, "leader, you could say, here." 

Haseul looks over his shoulder at you. Her confusion is obvious; she has no idea what the hell is going on. And she has no idea what she's gotten herself into, either. 

Seonghwa squeezes you tighter to him, lowering his lips to your ear to whisper. "I will gladly gag you if need be, princess. Keep your mouth shut." 

You fight against him, nearly managing to knock your heads together, but he's quick enough to evade the strike. Bastard. Creepy fucking perverted bastard. You couldn’t give less of a fuck what Seonghwa threatens to do to you. All you want is for Haseul to get out. 

Haseul still hasn't responded to Hongjoong. She looks back at him, analyzing his appearance. You have complete faith in her reasoning, you know that she'll see right through him. She's always been good at sniffing out the bad ones. This won't be any different, especially with the way you're being fucking restrained right in front of her. She'll know, even if you don’t dare say anything further. The less Haseul knows, the more likely it is that she can go, right? 

Your gaze shifts to Mingi, then. He really needs to redye his hair. An absurd observation, given the circumstances, but it's true. He doesn't look as confused about the situation, his grasp on Haseul quite sure. You wonder if this fear is what Mingi felt when he saw you walk through those doors for the first time… but you doubt it. Mingi might have been confused, but he certainly wasn't scared for your life. He had embraced you, welcomed you. 

He meets your eyes for the first time in days. It's brief, hardly a few seconds, but it's enough for you to see that he's gone. Whatever Hongjoong told him after your argument, he believed it. Proof enough is his presence here. He is Haseul's captor right now. Mingi and Mingi alone holds her in place. If he just let her go… 

What a dirty fucking trick. Using Mingi. Whether it was designed to hurt you or make Haseul more trusting, it fulfilled both purposes. You're sure she was probably elated to see him after so long. And she had probably been so excited to see you, too. Fuck. How many people are you going to drag into this? How many people are going to be hurt because of you?

You think again of San, who still hasn't made his decision. He stands at your side, clenching his hands so tight it almost hurts your heart. Your poor San. Forced to choose and so soon after you told him he didn't have to. 

Not that the choice isn't obvious. You know he'll take you from Seonghwa and drag you to your apartment eventually. You know he'll probably feel terrible and beg your forgiveness immediately after the door shuts behind you. And will you give it? 

Your heart is already so soft towards him, you fear that you will. Immediately. Even before you leave the room. You’re already forgiving him, in fact, before the choice is even carried out. You don’t have much of a resolve, especially considering that he really has only one option. It’s Hongjoong or it’s nothing. He can’t have Hongjoong questioning his faith, not with everything that’s been going on. 

“Hongjoong, nice to meet you.” Haseul doesn’t smile and her voice doesn’t waver. “What the hell is happening right now?” 

Hongjoong chuckles, finally dropping her hand. “Do you want the truth?” 

She looks at you again, a frown marring her usually beautiful face. “Obviously.”

“You’re going to die here.” Hongjoong shrugs, turning back around to you. “Unless someone learns how to behave. Speaking of, didn’t I tell you to take her away, San?” 

You ignore his last question, a new burst of adrenaline tearing its way through you. What in the everloving fuck does Hongjoong think he’s doing? He thinks he can control you by threatening one of your best friends? That you’ll suddenly bend to his whim because he has another captive? 

… Yeah, and he’s right. He fucking knows you. He knows your guilt, and he knows how it eats you. He couldn’t just use Mingi? He had to drag another person into this? Christ, not that you would want him to use Mingi against you, no, but… being the fault of one ruined life is better than two. Hongjoong is a monster. 

Haseul surprises you, laughing as San finally latches a hand onto your arm. “Let’s go, (Y/n), please.” He whispers, lighting pulling on you as Seonghwa loosens his grip.

“No, I’m sure that I won’t.” Haseul looks at Mingi. “Let me go, kiddo. I want to talk to (Y/n).” 

As soon as Seonghwa’s hands are off of you, you’re trying to tear out of San’s hand. As you suspected, his hold on you isn’t very tight at all, and it easily breaks from the full force of your body. You sprint toward the other group, your eyes locking with Hongjoong’s. 

For a moment, you think he betrays a sense of… worry. But the look is gone as quickly as it appears, Seonghwa’s hands latching onto you and pulling you back so suddenly that your knees give out underneath you. Seonghwa catches you by your underarms, stopping you from falling all the way to the floor, but not being gentle at all about it. 

“Haseul!” You finally find it in yourself to scream. “Run!” 

She looks between yourself and Mingi as Seonghwa yanks you to your feet, locking a hand over your lips. Whatever. You got the key message out. So long as she at least tries… 

And she does. Haseul lets herself go limp, the sudden weight too much for Mingi to support with one hand. She slips right through his fingers, scrambling to her feet as she turns back toward where she came. 

Much like yourself, however, she doesn’t get very far. Mingi is right behind her, scooping an arm around her waist and stopping her in much the same place they had already been standing. 

Hongjoong laughs, then, clapping his hands together in front of him. “Aren’t you two quite the pair of runners? Tell me, Haseul, how was your drive in? Think you can run the eight miles to town? (Y/n) tried. And failed.” He smiles, entirely dropping any sort of ruse, even the usual charismatic charm completely ebbs out of him. His unfiltered self is more than upsetting. 

It’s fucking scary. He’s normally scary, but, without even a minor reassurance of his humanity, Hongjoong is more terrifying than ever. His cruelty laid bare, his megalomania so strong that he can’t even reign it in for appearance’s sake… it’s too much. 

You stop your fighting, not wanting to make anything worse. Which, clearly, you are. 

“Are we done?” He asks you, pouting. “I was just starting to have fun, though. I could let you both go; we could play hide-and-seek in the fields again. Wasn’t that fun, (Y/n)?” He approaches you where Seonghwa has you locked in place. Your breathing is heavy against his hand. “Maybe the both of you could manage to get somewhere, together. Or, more likely, your friend would end up in the fucking pig feed.” 

It’s in this instant that you give up. Hongjoong isn’t playing. There’s no chance that you’re going to be able to do anything to help Haseul at this moment; it’s better to play it safe. Not risk the ire. 

Hongjoong smiles, but it’s not his usual smile. It’s utterly unhinged, a vein in his forehead making an appearance from the strain of his face. You try to back into Seonghwa, but he doesn’t budge as Hongjoong gets closer to you. He rests a hand on your shoulder, continuing. “What do you think, (Y/n)? Do you want to play? Or do you want to listen?” 

Seonghwa removes his hand from your lips. Tears well in your eyes as you blink up at Hongjoong, your fear so great that you can hardly find your voice. “Hongjoong, I want, I… I’ll listen, please. Hongjoong, please don’t, don’t hurt her.” 

He squeezes your shoulder too tight. “Are you sure? I’m happy to let you go.” 

You nod your head, closing your eyes tightly in an attempt to not let any of your tears fall. 

“If you insist.” He lets go of you. You let out a deep breath, opening your eyes to watch as he walks away from you and toward Haseul and Mingi. “Mingi, you’re going to take Haseul to her room. And, San, you’re going to take (Y/n) to your apartment. And you’re not going to let your girls out of your sight.” He glances between Mingi and San, his tone not changing at all, even when addressing them. 

You can’t see San, but you can see Mingi. He nods, ushering Haseul out of the cafeteria. You watch her back as she goes, her looking over her shoulder to get one last look at you. It’s almost heartbreaking. You look back at Hongjoong, watching his shoulders bounce as he laughs to himself. 

He really is sick. 

San returns his hand to your arm, but you can’t look at him. You can’t take your eyes from Hongjoong. “(Y/n), please…” San pleads with you, and you don’t fight when Seonghwa lets go of you. “Walk with me?” He whispers, pulling you ever so gently as he starts moving toward the door. 

You stumble at first, and San nearly whimpers as you force him to guide you out the door. It’s hurting him to treat you like this, you know, but you… can’t go along with it. You can’t just go. You keep your eyes locked on Hongjoong, even when it means turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. 

He wiggles his fingers at you as you go, a taunting wave. ‘I win’ that wave says. And why not? Hasn’t he won? 

You watch as Seonghwa approaches him, stopping a few steps behind him. You wonder if that little display had any effect on him. Does seeing someone you love be so utterly insane change the way you feel about them? Seonghwa never denied being scared of Hongjoong, did he? More than likely, Seonghwa is used to this behavior. He might even like it, for all you know about the freak. 

San turns the corner out of the cafeteria and your spell finally breaks. You shiver, not able to contain the feeling of relief to be out of his presence. San slows his pace, nervously glancing at you as you continue down the hallway.

“Are you okay?” His voice trembles with his question, and you’re sure that he already knows the answer. 

You stare straight ahead of yourself, willing your feet to keep going. Just make it to the apartment, and then you can let go. Just a few flights of stairs and you can rest. 

San doesn’t try to ask again when you don’t respond. He leads you in silence, though his grip on your arm gets lighter and lighter with every step that you take. His hatred of putting his hands on you really is endearing, but there isn’t time to think about that. 

You’ve got to figure out how you’re going to get Haseul out of here. There’s already an inkling of an idea brewing in your mind, but it might be… a bit… exploitative. And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. But… It's Haseul. You can’t let her stay here. You’ll have to find it in yourself to not feel guilty when asking for help. 

In the best case scenario, she would become another brainwashed follower (not that you could ever see that happening). In the worst… she would be another tortured prisoner like yourself. In fact, she would probably have it worse than you, considering that Hongjoong apparently has no special plan for her beyond using her to make you obey him.

The actual worst case scenario is something that you refuse to even consider. 

Once you reach the apartment, San is barely even touching you. You let yourself in, walking determinedly to the couch, where you allow yourself to collapse. San shuts the door behind him, locking it before coming to stand in front of you. He stays quiet, frowning down at you. 

You smile at him, though that quickly devolves as you begin to cry in earnest. You can’t help it. The waning adrenaline suddenly makes your emotions so much more vivid, sending you into a fit. You put your face in your hands, letting go of your self control for the time being. There’s no use in trying to contain your emotions, not here, not with San. 

The depression in the couch next to you follows very quickly. San wraps his arms around you, resting his cheek on your back. From what you know about him, you’re sure that he’s probably following your lead. Have you ever cried in front of him and not been mirrored? 

He sways with you, gently rocking you through your fit. 

You just… don’t understand. How could you not have seen this coming? Doesn’t it make perfect sense that Hongjoong would exploit you like this? Didn’t it seem like things were going too well? You should’ve been prepared for a blow like this; did you really think that there was anything Hongjoong was above doing? Because, if you did, you were blind. 

And you can’t get over how fucking scary he was. He had scared you in the past, sure. He’s always been scary. But that was… something else entirely. He’s had his moments of anger with you, yes, but even then he wasn’t so… brazen. It’s like he has an entirely different fucking personality in him, and you’re horrified to think that that is probably his true self. Without the bells and whistles, without trying to charm and deceive… that’s what he is. 

You’d do well to remember that. Things were getting… a bit chummy there. Had you been reading The Answer? Voluntarily? Christ, the idea is laughable now. What the fuck had you been thinking? Not to mention your other endeavors. Pathetic, honestly. 

And, again, how are you going to get Haseul out of here? There’s… only one person that you could possibly even think of convincing to help you, and he’s currently holding you in his arms. 

Is it wrong to ask him? When you know that Hongjoong is already on his ass? You would be putting him in danger to even ask him such a favor, but… its Haseul. Haseul. You can’t let your best friend rot here on account of yourself. And you can’t just not use every resource. 

But… say shit goes south. Then Hongjoong gets rid of two people that you care about. And wouldn’t that be just your luck? Two people, gone in an instant because of your need to help one of them. That would be… unforgivable. You wouldn’t be able to bear that guilt. 

But how the fuck can you possibly even consider bearing the guilt of Haseul being trapped here? Used against you? You can’t. You couldn’t possibly. 

So the choice is simple, really. You have to risk them both. Maybe, just maybe, the universe will let you get your way this time. And, if Haseul is able to get away… you could get out of here. You could be saved, and not in the way Hongjoong wants. You can’t give up the opportunity that Haseul could escape and get the fucking police involved. So you have to try.

You let San rock you as you settle your tears. He probably won’t want to be near you after you say what you’re about to say, so you savor the warmth of his arms and the touch of his hands for as long as you can. You have to hurt him, have to. You can’t risk him not taking this seriously, and you can’t think of any other way to drive him to do what needs to be done.

If you asked him nicely, he could say no. He could try and reason with you and beg and plead that you don’t do this, because it could end up bad for you. And he would be right, but that’s beside the point. You have to be mad. You have to yell and scream and drive home your point. There can be no doubt in his mind that the only way to keep you is to help you. 

It’s manipulation, pure and simple. And you know that it’s wrong, but… what else can you do? Haseul has to get out, and San is the only hope that you possibly have. 

San adjusts his hold on you once you lower your hands from your face. He looks at you, and, sure enough, he had definitely been crying as well. One of his arms remains around your waist, but his free hand grabs for one of yours. “I’m so sorry, (Y/n).” He swallows hard, a frown staying on his face. 

You nearly crack. Then and there. How can you possibly go through with this when he’s… him? But you think of Haseul, probably terrified out of her mind in one of those tiny bedrooms with Mingi. You can’t let this happen to her. 

You pull your hand out of San’s, standing up off of the couch. His hand on your waist lingers for as long as it can, but you quickly step out of his reach. Using the ball of your hand to wipe at your tears, you steel yourself. The quicker you can convince him that he has to help you, the quicker this can all be over. 

“I can’t believe you, San.” You swallow back more tears as you watch his face contort in confusion. 

He quickly sits up, leaning forward to reach for one of your hands again. You take another step backward, preventing him from succeeding. “What, (Y/n), what do you…” His eyes sparkle with fresh tears. “What are you talking about?” 

You scoff. “You obviously knew about this.” You turn to go, planning to head back to the bedroom. If he thinks that you’re leaving… 

San stands behind you, trying to grab onto your hand. “Wait, wait, (Y/n), just—” But you’re already taking off down the hallway, easily able to slip your hand out of his hold.

“Wait, (Y/n), you have to listen!” San chases after you, following you as you walk as fast as you dare toward the bedroom. “I swear, (Y/n), I swear that I had no idea!” 

You stop in your tracks in the doorway to the room, your chest heaving as you turn to face San. “You didn’t know?” Your tone is as accusatory as you need it to be. You almost find yourself getting truly angry with him. And you might, if not for the tears now pouring down his cheeks. “You’re trying to tell me that you didn’t fucking know that Hongjoong was bringing one of my closest friends here? When all of that shit is entirely your responsibility?” You’re yelling by the end of your sentence, stepping closer to San with each word. 

San reaches out to you, snatching your wrist out of the air as you point at his chest. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” His voice is calm despite his crying. You try and wiggle your arm out of his grasp, not liking the feeling of being restrained by him. “I never would have done this to you, ever.” His voice deepens as he whispers through gritted teeth. 

You continue trying to pull your wrist from his grasp. “I don’t believe you.” Your tears return with this sentence, the lump in your throat hard to swallow. 

“Why not?” San retains his iron grip on your wrist, making you stay in place as he takes a step closer to you. He holds your hand to his chest as he stares down at you, his tears drying up. 

You look up at him, hoping he can’t see through you. This is it. “I know that you,” you spit the word with as much anger as you can muster, “are the reason that I’m here. Excuse me for not trusting you, San.”

He sets his jaw, breaking your eye contact to study the paint on the walls. He nods once, twice. “I deserve that, and you’re right.” He finds your eye again. “You might not believe me when I say this, but I swear to you that I regret it everyday. You’re free to hate me, but you have to know that I would take it back if I could. I’d sooner have never met you than have caused you all of this pain.” He pulls you closer, your chest knocking against your conjoined hands. “Which is why I will never hurt you again. Meaning, I would never have invited Haseul. Even if Hongjoong asked.” 

“I don’t believe you.” You shake your head up at him, finally letting your tears fall again.

“How can I make you?” 

The climax of the conversation reaches you and you’re hardly able to spit the words out. “Help her escape. Help her get the hell out of here. Then I’ll believe you.” 

San’s expression doesn’t change. He continues looking down at you, searching your eyes for any indication of a lie. “Will you?” 

You nod. 

“Okay.” He looks at you for a second longer, taking in your expression, before letting go of your wrist and stepping away from you. “Stay here. I’m going to send… someone up here to stay with you. I don’t want Hongjoong getting mad if he sees me, somehow.” 

You nod your head again, your stomach flipping as you realize that you actually just pulled that off. You do feel bad, you can’t deny it, the tears still streaming down your cheeks confirm your guilt, solidify it. 

“Don’t worry if it takes me a while to come back,” he smiles, but it looks fake, “I will come back to you. Is there anything you want me to tell her?” 

Pondering this, you take a second to wipe your tears away. You know it’s only making him hurt worse to see you cry. Might as well try to spare him of some of it. What would you want to say to her? “Just… tell her that I’m sorry, and that I love her.” 

San reaches out to you one last time, cupping your face in his hand as he wipes your cheek for you. He pulls you close, leaning in at the same time to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s short, however, and he’s already walking out the door before you can process it. “Wait for me.” He calls behind himself, leaving you alone in the apartment. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You can’t really remember the last time that you had been alone, really alone. There was the time before the trip into town, but, even then, you had actually been surrounded by people. Now, you’re completely alone in your apartment. You could, theoretically, run away. 

But Hongjoong made it quite clear earlier how he felt about that option. And you’re really not eager for a repeat of the corn fields. So you stay put. It’s better this way, anyhow. You wouldn’t be so stupid as to put Haseul’s escape at risk. 

You do wonder who San will choose to send up to watch you, though. Probably another higher up… but… who? Who could he trust with the knowledge that he’s left you alone… for some… mysterious reason that is totally a coincidence that your friend just showed up and is about to mysteriously escape somehow… 

The knock at the door alleviates the curiosity, at least. You call for whoever it is to come in, having moved to the couch since San left. It hadn’t been that long, maybe ten minutes, but you were not vibing with the silence. You’re quite used to hearing another person’s breathing 24/7, thank you very much. 

You’re pleasantly surprised when Wooyoung peeks his head into your apartment. When he sees you on the couch, he lets himself in, gently pulling the door closed behind himself. “(Y/n), it’s good to see you…” He glances around the room. “But what’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” Surely he knows something is up. but you’re not going to tell him anything that he doesn’t need to know. 

Wooyoung frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why did San come crying to me about you two having an argument?" 

Ahhhh. It’s a good enough cover, you suppose. Especially given the way that you’re positive your emotions linger on your face, it’s believable enough that you fought. And, anyways, San probably thinks that you did fight. 

Wooyoung clears his throat, still frowning. “You should know by now that he’s… sensitive.” 

You nod slowly, feeling genuinely apologetic. Again, its not like you wanted to hurt him, but… “I know, Wooyoung. It’s just that everything is so… I don’t know. Nothing can go right, and I guess I took it out on him.” 

“Aren’t you happy to see your friend?” He asks, dropping any of the attitude that he had clearly wanted to have with you. “It’s a good thing, her being here!” 

You clench your jaw, keeping your mouth shut. Wooyoung doesn’t deserve your anger anymore than San did. “It’s complicated, Wooyoung.” 

He sighs, sitting next to you on the couch. “I know that things were hard for you when you first got here, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be the same for your friend.” 

When you don’t reply, he keeps trying. “You like it here, now. Please don’t try to say that you don’t.” He reaches for your hand, but you pull it away before he can grab it. What the hell is he on? His voice raises as he continues. “Look around you, (Y/n). Is this so bad? Is San so terrible? Are the people here not your friends? Just because things are hard with Hongjoong doesn’t mean that you’re being tortured here; you don’t know how lucky you are.” 

You look at Wooyoung in utter shock. You could’ve expected this rant from plenty of people, but Wooyoung? To have Wooyoung say such things to you… You get to your feet, putting more distance between the two of you.

“You can’t possibly think that I’m lucky.”

Wooyoung smiles up at you, but with a malice that you’ve never seen from him. You don’t know what the hell has him so worked up, but you’re seeing an entirely new side of Wooyoung. “Do you think that you’re the only person here that had a hard go of it? Did you think that no one before you ever resisted being Chosen?” He shakes his head, the smile fading. “Plenty of us suffered at first, but we weren’t rewarded with instant status. You have no idea what I went through, (Y/n). You are lucky.” 

There’s really no way for you to contain your surprise. Wooyoung. Wooyoung. Happy-go-lucky Wooyoung is, what, scolding you? Bitching you out? For not being happy that you’re being held hostage by a cult. And, for what reason, other than he, himself suffered through the same thing? Shouldn’t he understand your position more than anyone? He’s never shown you the side of him that you’re speaking to now, how were you supposed to know? 

“But you, you’re—”

“I’m what? Devoted? Yes, I am, do you know why?” He waits for an answer that doesn’t come. “I can show you the scars. They’re only a couple years old.” 

Wooyoung stands, grabbing the hem of his shirt like he means to take it off. No, you don’t want to see any scars. You reach for one of his wrists, locking his hand in place. “Please, you don’t need to show me.” 

He snatches his hand out of yours so violently that he ends up smacking himself in the chest. “I believe in the Answer and I believe in Hongjoong. Truly. What got me to this point was not pretty, though I didn’t dare do anything as bold as you.” He looks you up and down and you feel as though he can see right through you. “And yet… I don’t see signs of the same treatment. I have to wonder what makes you so different.” 

You never thought that you would find yourself scared of Wooyoung. You inch a few steps backward, keeping your distance. You don’t truly think that he would hurt you, but… There’s no way of knowing. You can’t trust anyone in this fucking place. Just when you think you might know someone, this shit happens. 

“It’s the prophecy or whatever, I know.” Wooyoung shakes his head, ignoring your movements. “Hongjoong thought someone else was you, you know? Have you heard that one yet?” 

You shake your head, but you mean it in more of a ‘please don’t tell me’ way than a ‘no I haven’t’ way. Really, you do not need to know. You don’t want to know. This is entirely new information to you, but you’re not ready to hear it. 

Wooyoung smiles, taking a step closer to you. “He thought she was the one, but… she wasn’t. And what did Hongjoong do? How did he reward her loyalty?” You take another step back, but your back hits the wall before you can put enough space between yourself and Wooyoung. He advances further, looking down at you with a fire in his eyes that you never could’ve expected. “He had Seonghwa kill her. Her body decomposed in the fields. You can see her bones from the road in the winter.” 

You won’t cry. You’re not going to cry. Not again. You find it in yourself to shove Wooyoung away from you, able to get away from the wall that is now suffocating you. He laughs behind you as you practically jog to your bedroom, desperate to be alone.

What the fuck. Genuinely, absolutely, positively, what the fuck? 

You slam the door shut behind you, running your hands through your hair as you pace. What the fuck was the point in telling you that? What has gotten into Wooyoung? He was like you? Is he still like you? Does he want to leave? He’s mad at you because you weren’t abused like he was? He’s jealous? 

None of it makes any fucking sense. If there was another girl, one before you, what would’ve made Hongjoong change his mind about her? And, if she was actually loyal to him, how on earth could he possibly have thought that you would be the better choice?

And why had no one mentioned her to you before? San had never told you anything like this. It doesn’t make sense. Why would it be such a secret? Because she’s dead? Was everyone just supposed to forget that she ever existed, just because Hongjoong decided she wasn’t the one to do… whatever the fuck it is that he needs done? 

Your heart aches for the girl that came first. She didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t deserve to be brainwashed. Your stomach twists as you think of how she must’ve died, fully believing that she was fulfilling a purpose for Hongjoong. It’s sick. Hopefully she wasn’t scared. That’s the only solace that you can find for her. 

And Haseul, Jesus fuck, Haseul is here! Where is San? Shouldn’t he be back by now? Shouldn’t he have done whatever it was that needed to be done?

There’s too fucking much to worry about. You can only be sick over so many different things at once. Every damned day in this place makes everything a thousand times more complicated. 

Once San is back, you’ll ask about Haseul. And then about the other girl. And then about how he got here. And then about Wooyoung. 

If Wooyoung was taken by force, it’s entirely possible that San was, too. You’ve never spoken about how he got here, or about his past life at all. It’s suddenly a bit stifling, the realization that there is so much about him that you don’t know. But, if San was taken like you were, couldn’t he… no, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. But… 

San is already defying Hongjoong for you. Your relationship, for one thing, was outright banned in front of your eyes. Now he’s helping someone escape for you. If he’s willing to do that… couldn’t he be willing to help you? Couldn’t you get him to see your perspective, with a little bit more begging and pleading? 

If San never wanted to be here in the first place, couldn’t you convince him to leave? 

A knock on the door startles you. “Hey, (Y/n), listen,” Wooyoung’s voice carries through the wood, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all of that, you didn’t need to know. You’re not even supposed to know.” 

You hold your breath, waiting for him to try the doorknob. You hadn’t locked it behind you, he could very well open the door. 

“Can I come in? I can explain things better, I swear.” 

You gnaw at your lip for a moment, weighing your options. You don’t think that Wooyoung would hurt you. He’s always been genuinely kind to you, up until twenty minutes ago. He sounds like he’s calmed down, too. Wooyoung was one of the first people you… liked, here. 

But… he was being really freaky. Like, really weird. He did not need to behave like that with you. You probably shouldn’t let him in, and yet you find yourself telling him that he can. 

He inches the door open slowly, frowning in the doorway when he sees how upset you look. 

You stop your pacing, opting to climb up on your bed and sit, staring at Wooyoung. 

He doesn’t come in. Instead, he leans his shoulder against the door frame, his fingers nervously twisting together in front of him. “I shouldn’t have… let myself speak to you like that, (Y/n). I’m really sorry.” 

Wooyoung hardly looks at you as he says this, looking down at his hands instead.  “You’re right, and thank you for the apology.” 

He nods, wetting his lips. “I shouldn’t make excuses, and I won’t, but I just can’t help but wonder why so many of us were treated so poorly when you’re… not. And I don’t say that to make you feel guilty, but I just don’t really understand it. I know Hongjoong has his plan for you, but—”

“What is the plan, Wooyoung?” You feel only a little bad for cutting him off. You can unpack his words later, now is… really not the time to add more worries to your mind. 

He finally looks up at you, tilting his head and almost hitting it against the door. “You haven’t read it, yet? Honestly, the text explains it better than I could.” 

You resist rolling your eyes. Why is that always what everyone says? You don’t want to read it, you want another human being to look in your eyes and tell you what’s going to happen. Maybe it’s flawed logic, but you feel like hearing it from someone else would make it easier to stomach. Knowing that someone else knows, too, could be comforting, right? “Can’t you just give me the gist of it?” 

Wooyoung smiles, though this one is actually humorous. “The gist of it is that you’re important to Universe One. It goes into detail about a girl that will link the universes; allowing free travel between them. The Sign of the Answer,” he taps the pins on his collar, “she’ll bring it to fruition.” 

The room stays silent as you think of your next question. You glance at San’s copy of The Answer on his bedside table, the edges of the book crinkled with use. How many times has he read it, you wonder?

“How?” You finally ask, looking back at Wooyoung.

He shrugs. “Doesn’t say.” 

Well isn’t that just great. Isn’t that just perfect. What are you supposed to glean from that? What is that supposed to entail for your future? 

“When?” You ask. 

“Doesn’t say.” Wooyoung repeats. 

He pushes himself off of the door frame, taking a few steps into the room so that he can stand in front of you. “I’m sorry that this all has happened to you, (Y/n). But I need to emphasize this to you again… I know that you don’t want to hear it, but you are lucky. Things would be a lot easier for you if you simply… accepted your new reality.” 

You cross your arms, looking up at him. He’s right, you don’t want to hear it. You’re not lucky. Lucky doesn’t mean being taken by a cult and treated ‘nicely.’ You wouldn’t say ‘aw, you’re so lucky that you only got raped and not murdered,’ to a Richard Ramierez victim, would you? No, you wouldn’t. Because other crimes do not minimize the ones being committed against you. You know that, at least. 

“Things would be easier, you’re right,” you nod, “but I don’t want them to be easier.” 

“That’s your choice, I guess.”

The conversation reminds you a lot of one that you had had with San outside of the barns. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Wooyoung stays with you through dinner, though neither of you make an appearance. You’re sure that Hongjoong wasn’t expecting you, anyways. After this afternoon, you wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to keep you locked up in your apartment as punishment. You’d frankly be quite surprised if things carried on like they had been, after such a display from yourself and from him. You still don’t know what the hell got up his ass or why the fuck he was so scary, but you also don’t think you really want to know.

You’re not sure how Wooyoung accounted for his absence, or if he even did. For all you know, he’s allowed sick days every now and then or something. But would Wooyoung be willing to lie to Hongjoong for San? Would any of them lie to cover for each other? You really don’t know. 

You watch the sunset through your bedroom window, wondering where San could possibly be. It’s been hours since he left, and each passing minute honestly only makes you feel worse. You’re really starting to feel guilty about… essentially extorting San into carrying out your bidding. It was wrong of you to use such a manipulative tactic, but it really had seemed like the only way to help Haseul. Even looking back on it with regret, you don’t know how else it could’ve gone. There was too much of a risk of San not taking it seriously enough. 

But you also have to worry about San, too. What Seonghwa said about him has continued to linger in your mind. If Hongjoong really wants him out of the equation… this could definitely be grounds for it. If San is caught with Haseul… there could be serious repercussions. 

At this point, you don’t know if you’re more worried about Haseul escaping or San getting caught helping her. Obviously you needed San to be the one to help her, but fuck you’re worried. 

You feel guilty. And you feel guilty for feeling guilty. It should be your number one priority to make sure that Haseul gets away safely, but you’re also just so worried for San. You don’t know how long you were expecting him to be gone, but it certainly wasn’t the rest of the day. 

Maybe you have some sort of attachment issues. The pain in your chest could be caused by any one of the reasons that you’re stressed, but you suspect that it’s San. You miss him. That’s all. It’s weird to not have him with you, especially when you’re going through so much. 

Wooyoung has been alright company, at least after he stopped being a freak. But he sits in the living room as you sit in your bedroom, the both of you waiting for San to arrive back. Its a bit awkward, even though you’re in separate rooms. You wonder what he’s doing, but it’s probably much the same as what you’re doing. Thinking. 

The sun is setting noticeably earlier these days. Long gone are the 9pm sunsets, each day inching closer to a 7pm twilight. You wonder how long it’s been since you arrived. You should’ve kept count, somehow. At least three weeks, you’d think. Maybe a month. Maybe a little more. It’s hard to tell. They still haven’t started harvesting the corn, which inclines you to believe that it can’t be much later than early October, if that. If it is October, that would mean that it’s been six weeks, which feels too long. 

You’re really not sure. 

The days have blurred together. Without any contact to the outside world, it’s impossible for you to have enough of an idea of what happened each day, let alone how many days ago something happened. There are no landmarks, no events that you can recall for certain happening on specific days. 

You arrived, and time passed. You were chosen, and time passed. You got a job, and time passed. You decided to escape, and time passed. You were made to live with San, and time passed. You got close to San, and time passed. Haseul arrived… and time will pass. 

It’s just one thing after another. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You’re not sure how or when, but you must’ve dozed off. You wake up only when the shower in your bathroom starts, startling you awake.

You’re disorientated the way you always are after a nap. You’re too hot, your jeans are too tight, your shirt is askew, your skin imprinted with the lines of the blanket you slept on top of. It’s dark.

Sitting up, you look toward the bathroom door as you straighten your shirt. It’s closed, but it must be San. Through the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor, the only source of light pours into your room. It shines brightly. The clock on your bedside table reads 1:09 A.M.

Fuck, that certainly took a lot longer than you had been expecting. Stretching your arms over your head, you try to wake up a bit. There’s going to be a conversation that you want to be wide awake for. You change into your pajamas as you wait for him to finish his shower, sitting patiently on the bed, ready to hear everything that he has to tell you. You want every detail of every minute. You need to know that Haseul is safe.

It is entirely possible that San will be too tired to talk. It’s also possible that he failed. That there will be nothing to tell you other than the fact that Haseul is still here and that there was nothing he could do. It’s surprising, really, that this is the first time such a possibility has really occurred to you. It’s probably more likely that he tried and failed than he tried and succeeded. Sneaking an entire person off of the farm without either being caught would be… difficult. 

Your guilt reawakens at your ignorance. You could’ve set them both up for failure, and you hadn’t really considered it before this moment, when San is back in your bedroom. You had been worried about them being caught, yes… But you hadn’t considered the third option where nothing happens and shit is exactly as it was this afternoon. 

Just when you think that the sound of the water hitting the wall is going to drive you crazy, the water shuts off. You turn toward the door, letting your legs hang off the side of the bed. 

San opens the door, the light from the bathroom suddenly pouring out into the bedroom. Shielding your eyes with your hand, you try your best to look at him. 

He stands in the doorway, staring back at you like a deer in the headlights (though you’re the one in the headlights, really). You can’t tell if he’s just surprised to see that you’re awake, or surprised to have you sitting right there when he just emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his hips. 

His hair drips, the droplet hitting his collarbone and trailing down the rest of his chest before sinking into the towel. Hopefully your staring wasn’t as obvious as it felt. You look back up at his face, and you both start to speak at the same time.

“I’m sorry that I was ma—”

“Did I wake you u—”

You both smile, and you’re instantly feeling more relieved. San is back. And he’s smiling. That must be a good sign, right?

“You did, but it’s okay.” You reach out your hand to him, wanting him to give you one of his. “I’m sorry for being mad, earlier.” He steps closer to the bed and slides his hand into yours as you say this, smiling down at you. You really are sorry. The feeling of his hand in yours only reassures you that everything must be okay. 

His hair drips onto your lap, dampening your fresh pair of pajama pants. “No, don’t be sorry.” His voice is soft, his free hand coming to rest under your jaw. “You didn’t say anything I haven’t thought myself. I’m sorry for waking you up, or, well, I’m sorry for everything, I mean. But especially waking you up.” 

“It’s alright, San. How did… How did it go?” You squeeze his hand, hoping you don’t look too expectant. It’s natural for you to want the best outcome, of course, but you don’t want San to beat himself up if he couldn’t get it. You want Haseul to be safe… but, in a way, she’s safe here. As long as Hongjoong holds her over your head, he can’t hurt her, right? 

San sighs, taking his hands away from you to make his way over to his dresser. “I… did my best to help her. I think she should make it.” 

The words are an instant relief. You could nearly cry. “Really?” You keep your head turned toward the bathroom door, letting him dress behind you.  You would turn, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but the domesticity of seeing someone naked without any sexual intentions is too much for you right now. That can all be unpacked later. So you keep your head straight, no matter how much you want to look as he speaks to you. 

The bed dips on the other side and you take that as your cue to look. He’s laying on his stomach, pillow punched up in his arms. He didn’t put a shirt on. “I got her in her car, at least. She shouldn’t have much trouble, unless someone heard the engine start.” 

You do tear up, then. Holy shit, San really did it. He really got Haseul out of here. And that means… that means that you will be out of here, and fucking soon. You turn so that you’re fully on the bed again, sitting upright to look down at San. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” he smiles, untangling one of his arms to lay it around your waist. He scootches closer to you, his face in line with the waistband of your pajama pants. “It’ll all be okay, you know?” 

You laugh as he kisses your side, his lips tickling the sensitive skin. “I know, I’m just, I’m so happy, San. And I’m so… grateful. That you did this for me.” You brush his hair off the side of his face, tucking the longer strands behind his ear. 

He smiles against your side. “I’m happy that you’re happy. But I’m sorry to be back so late, you were probably worried, huh?” 

“Maybe a little bit,” you admit. “How did it all go, though? How did she seem? What did you do all day?” 

San takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he thinks. “She was… weary of me. Didn’t trust me at all, which made helping her a lot harder than I had been hoping. Once I convinced her that I was trying to help her, we kinda just hung out until it was late enough for me to get her car.” 

“No one came to check on her? All day?” You frown, wondering why she would’ve been left completely alone. When you first got here, you at least got your three meals a day brought to you. 

“Mingi was with her when I got there, I just told him Hongjoong had told me to take over with her.” San’s eyes are still closed. 

That brings back a bit of your dread. If Mingi was supposed to be watching her, and she got away… Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. This could be precisely what Hongjoong was needing… Oh God. Ohhhhhhh dear. 

Hopefully it won’t come to that. Haseul will be back with help, and soon. Help should get here before anything can be done, right? There’s no chance that… 

Mingi will be fine. You have to believe that. Mingi and Haseul are okay. San is okay. Everything is going to be a-okay. No one else is going to get hurt and absolutely no one is going to die. No way no how. 

“Are you worried?” He asks, disliking the sudden silence. “He’ll be okay. Everything will be. Lay down?” 

How does he sound so sure? Is he really that confident that everything will work out, or is he just trying to comfort you? You have no idea, but you do as he asks, repositioning yourself until you’re on your side, face to face with San. 

“She’s really okay?” You whisper, tucking your hands under your head. 

San’s arm wraps around you again, pulling you closer to him. “She’s perfectly fine.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, much as he had done earlier. “Please don’t worry.”

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Hongjoong slams the truck door shut behind him, already furious. If he was a less dignified man, he’d kick the tire as he walks past, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets his anger out through his voice. 

He’s already yelling before he even reaches the scene. “What the fuck is this?” He sweeps his hands in front of him, gesturing toward the mess. He stops across from Jongho, who looks no worse for the wear, despite his blood soaked shirt. It’s too dark to really see the color; it looks like Jongho is simply wearing a black shirt. But the way that the fabric clings to his skin is enough to know that its wet. And the girl in front of him is evidence enough of what could’ve possibly gotten him so messy. 

Jongho shrugs. “Dead body.” The blood is still seeping from her, the puddle growing bigger and bigger. Jongho stands in the puddle, but he doesn’t seem to have any motivation to move. His shoes are already ruined. Hongjoong, however, takes small steps backward every few seconds. 

Hongjoong’s jaw drops in anger. Obviously its a dead fucking body. He’s not blind. “Do you remember who I am, Jongho? Please, enlighten me.” 

Hongjoong lets Jongho get away with a lot. He likes him. Jongho is… the same as Hongjoong, he thinks. There are differences; Jongho probably couldn’t get the ASPD diagnosis that he’s carried since the bright day that was his 18th birthday. Jongho has been in love, Hongjoong knows that, and that’s really… the key difference, he thinks. Otherwise, Jongho’s brain is wired the same as his.

Jongho knows how to get what he wants. He’s not afraid to be manipulative. He’s charming to the outside observer, intrinsically charismatic. He loves to have power over people (probably the reason he enjoys killing so much). It’s useful to have him around, so Hongjoong is willing to let Jongho have more freedom than the others.

As much as Hongjoong lives for the thrill of power himself, he doesn’t particularly care for getting his hands dirty. He’d much rather keep control of living people than have momentary control over someone that’ll be dead in minutes. So Jongho is quite the guy to have around, even if he’s a pain in his ass sometimes.

“You said—”

“I know what I said, Jongho.” Hongjoong doesn’t appreciate Jongho’s tone. “However, I didn’t mean that you could kill her in the middle of the fucking road, where, I don’t know, anyone could see?” 

Jongho smiles at his leader, not the least bit intimidated. “Does it look like anyones around to see?” He gestures around the road, looking between the two fields to his left and right. “We just have to replace the gravel.”

Hongjoong grinds his teeth, rubbing his temples. Why can’t this shit ever happen in the daytime? He’s fucking tired. “You can get rid of the gravel. I’m going back to sleep.” He ignores Jongho’s first comment out of the desire for sleep. Despite his soft spot for the kid, he (typically) still doesn’t tolerate open disrespect. 

“What do I do with her?” Jongho asks as Hongjoong starts making his way back to the truck, almost having to yell after him with the speed that he’s moving. 

Hongjoong stops, smiling as he recalls this afternoon. It was always the plan for Haseul to die tonight, he only wishes (Y/n) had taken him up on his offer. It would’ve been a lot more fun to play again. He turns back to Jongho, his smile growing wider. 

“The pigs are hungry, I’m sure.” 

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a/n: happy new year &lt;33