#Complexity of Fire Scenes

[forensicfield]

Burn Pattern Analysis

The content provides a comprehensive overview of burn pattern analysis in forensic science, covering principles, methodologies, challenges, significance in forensic investigations, and case studies.

Authored By: Abdulmalik Umar Maje

Continue reading Burn Pattern Analysis

[novelconcepts]

wait wait wait, so we had: a gorgeously diverse, complicated story about the folly of the Jedi, set against the backdrop of truly fascinating Force witch lore and a potential deep-dive into the real fallout of suppressing emotion, complete with totally rad lightsaber fights, grayscale characters all around, and the coolest fucking helmet in the history of the franchise, all tucked into the world of Star Wars, which makes money simply by existing--and they cancelled it?? i am going to explode

[rise-my-angel]

hi! i wanted to get your opinion because i admire the way you write these characters and you're so knowledgeable of the lore.

do you think robert actually loved lyanna or do you think she was just something he felt he was owed? like a prize that was taken away from him by someone else rather than her being her own person.

keep in mind i've only ever seen the show but his behaviour always struck me as obsessive rather than a man truly mourning "the love of his life."

i also don't see lyanna liking robert as 1) he was much older than her right? and 2) arya was a lot like her right? so she was a free spirit and wanted to learn and fight and not be a lady and robert doesn't strike me as someone ok with that in a wife. 3) robert's always been a whore so even if he did "love" lyanna he wouldn't be faithful regardless.

i know ned loved robert but he too saw the type of person robert was (and became after the war) and i don't see ned being truly comfortable with him being with his sister.

anyway i just have a lot of feelings about lyanna even tho i don't know much about her (i've just started the first book!) and i feel for her because girls are never allowed to just be girls. men always ruin everything with their wars and their egos and it's always the women who suffer, especially in game of thrones.

i think often of what it would be like if she lived and how horrid her future would be because of men in her life especially if she still gave birth to jon. she didn't deserve to die but maybe death was a kinder fate.

So interestingly enough, Robert in the show actually provides a lot more interesting perspective on this. Robert in the books is a lot more blatantly dislikable and unsympathetic, but the show provides us a new version of Robert that is actually as tragic as he is pathetic.

The simple fact of the matter is Robert didn't really know her. Robert liked the idea of Lyanna, but because she was gone so early before he could know her, he doesn't actually have a memory of her that is solid and concrete. He only has the memory of the idea of her, and he can only mourn that. So as the years go on, by the time we meet him, he has really nothing left but those scraps of a girl he hardly knew.

It's more explained in the books, but Lyanna did not like Robert. She didn't like he got around so much he had bastards yet was betrothed to her, she didn't like the fact that she knew he would be unfaithful, and clearly did not wish to marry him. Now Ned did try and tell her otherwise because partially yes Robert is his friend, but also because Ned knows he has no control over that marriage and would rather try to make his sister feel better and say maybe it will get better then just tell her what a miserable life shes in store for. Ned wanted to give her hope rather then give her literally nothing.

But Robert in the show is much more interesting, because he in the show, knows exactly what he's turned into. Robert in the show is smart, we see in the way he senses war coming, the way he understands what would happen should the Dothraki invade and in reterospective he was right about getting rid of the Targaryean threat early on before they slaughtered the people of Westeros. We struggle to see he's right though because both what we know about Jon and how that influences Neds responce to all this, and also his passion for his own hatred is off putting, but he's right, he's smart and he knows he is washed up from his own hand.

But Robert too, knows hes pathetic. He knows he has given himself no life to value now, so all he has is the past to cling onto. It's why he cannot give up Lyannas memory. She died before he had the chance to know her as a person and thus his memory of her loss is shrouded in the falsehoods he painted about her.

There's this scene he has with Cersei discussing her, and it's why I think Robert both does and doesn't love Lyanna, it's also one of the most emotionally honest scenes in season 1 from Robert of all people:

"You want to know the horrible truth? I can't even remember what she looked like. All I know is she was the one thing I ever wanted. Someone took her away from me, and Seven Kingdoms couldn't fill the hole she left behind."

Robert is trapped at Lyannas loss. He has never moved on, and he still mourns her as if right in that fresh memory. But he also knows he has so little of Lyanna that he barley has her image in his head, all he has is the memory of loss. It's pathetic and he knows he's pathetic because he laments with shame to Cersei just after this that he never could've loved her in Lyannas place.

He loves the memory of Lyanna rather then her, but Robert in the show is more sympathetic about it. Him saying Seven Kingdoms couldn't fill the hole she left behind is such a good line. He's saying being King did not fufill that loss and thus nothing at this point ever will. He's admitting being King was not a solution to trauma but he knows no other way anymore.

Now would she have been happy with Robert? No. I don't think Lyanna wanted to marry at all, or at least at that age she held no interest in marriage. She was wild and fun and passionate about her people, her brothers, her friends. She wanted to be a girl who still had time to live her passions and maybe pursue something more to her duties as a highborn girl later in life.

Now, some people think Ned would never have stepped in on Lyannas behalf with Robert, but no. Ned hid Lyannas son from Robert, which considering who the father was, that act by Ned could've been considered treason for Jons whole life. Ned does not value Roberts friendship or his loyalty to Robert over Lyanna. And some people equating how Ned handles Cersei to how he'd handle Lyanna is wrong.

Ned KNOWS Cersei is the enemy. Ned KNOWS Cersei would rather see him dead then what she's built up dismantled. Ned feels for her abuse at Roberts hands but will not step in because Cersei has given him no reason to be loyal to her more then his oldest friend.

But Ned cared more about Lyanna then Cersei and more about Lyanna then Robert.

Some people think Ned wouldn't have intervened if Lyanna suffered with Robert but thats not true. Ned hid the biggest secret Robert would've killed for, from him even beyond Roberts death. If Ned wouldn't have stepped in for Lyanna against Robert, he wouldn't have taken Lyannas son in as his own and hidden him from Robert his whole life.

Ned also DOES push back against him. Talks him out of stupid ideas, tells him off, quits being Hand of the King (which too is actually about Neds own fear about Robert learning the truth of Lyanna and Jon, its actually not about Dany at all). Ned clearly does not put Robert ahead of his family until he is given no choice but to stay and serve him. Robert all but orders him to stay in Kings Landing, which even then, Neds plan is to still send his children home even when he couldn't go with them.

I can't say for sure if Robert would've treated Lyanna the way he did Cersei, but I don't think it would be like that. He'd still be unfaithful and hostile, but he hates Cersei partially because he was forced to marry a woman soon after losing Lyanna. He resents Cersei for not being her.

If he married Lyanna I don't think he'd mistreat her the way he blatantly does Cersei but no, it wouldn't have been a happy marriage. But I don't think the degree of abuse and marital rape would have occurred the way people think it would've.

Robert and Ned both do not value Cersei's life the way they both valued Lyannas, and thus the way she'd be treated or protected would be vastly different then how both of them separately handled Cersei.

Robert in the show is more tragic then he is hateable. He didn't know Lyanna and cannot move past the trauma of how she left this world. But in the show, he knows that and he knows he's pathetic for it. Now, what would've happened if Lyanna still gave birth to Jon but lived?

Thats a harder thing to hide. I think Ned still would've done the same thing, still lie and claim Jon as his own son, but would've done everything he could to ensure Lyanna does not marry Robert so she could stay in Winterfell with her son.

The question comes down to, would Robert treat Lyanna and Jon the way he tried to do with Dany when learning she was pregnant. And I don't think I can say conclusively one way or another. Clearly Ned is terrified that the answer is yes, and thats why he quits and desperatly tries to leave the captiol with his daughters. He's terrified of this reaction not for Danys sake but because hes realizing that Roberts love for Lyanna STILL would not protect Jon. He tries to leave the captiol because hes terrified that his best friend would murder Jon if he learned the truth even now, and is living in a trauma asking himself if he'd have killed Lyanna too.

But how Robert would handle Lyanna if she lived, objectively, I do not know.

Robert would try to kill Jon, but would he really harm Lyanna? It's impossible to say. But Lyanna should've lived no matter what. Rhaegar kidnapping her and she survived childbirth, or if that scenario never happened, I fully believe Ned and his brothers would've stepped in if Lyanna was mistreated by Robert. Brandon literally rode to Kings Landing to confront Rhaegar to resuce his sister, had he lived, at the least, Brandon absolutely would've stepped in on Lyannas behalf since he has no emotional attachment to Robert. And I fail to see why Ned would put his friend over the sister he literally risked everything for.

The Starks protect each other. If Ned wasn't willing to side against Robert on his sisters behalf, he never would've hidden Jon from Robert in the first place. He protected Jon because it was his final way of protecting Lyanna.

In the books, I think theres more of an argument to say Robert would've mistreated her, but in the show? I cannot say yes or no, Robert Baratheon in the show is a completely different version of this character.

And I think show Robert is a lot more sympathetic then haters of book Robert will give him credit for. Which I can say, because I, a fan of show Robert actually fucking hate Robert in the books. Get away from Cersei you abuser, I know she's crazy and evil but hiss hiss bite bite.

But really that one line I quoted earlier tells me that he has always had a soft spot for Lyanna, and he knows that being King didn't actually help him move on. In his own way he loves Lyanna, but the way he loves her is just different then the people who are Lyannas actual blood. The same is true for Robert, Ned, and even without realizing so directly, Jon too.

Seven Kingdoms couldn't fill the hole she left behind.

[dantelionwishes]

inspired by this scene i saw in passing that made me go "oh- sugio" HAHAHA

[brown-little-robin]

okay so @quirkle2 sent me an ask about the aftermath of the Teru vs. Mob fight, and I went and wrote out the whole fight in the ask. I'm moving it to this post so that I can answer the Actual Question in the Actual Ask like a normal person. anyway here you go

Teru's Series of Really Bad Decisions

or, How Mob Came Out Of the Teru vs. Mob Fight Completely Unscathed

So here's the thing. Mob's zombie disease colony is pretty invested in keeping its host alive, so even while the fight is happening, he's healing really fast. And despite his top-dog persona, Teru doesn't actually enjoy injuring people. (The sensation of touching another person bothers him—that's why most of his attacks are things like slaps or punches, where he's only in contact with people for a moment before the force of the blow shoves them away. He'll kill or torture people, but he subtly avoids extended contact with them while doing so. It makes him nervous to resort to hands-on violence, because that's how a zombie fights and for his own survival, Teru HAS to act like he's above zombie behavior.)

So it takes Teru a while to work himself up to the point of actually committing to injuring Mob. At first, Teru is just punching him in the chest and stomach, shoving him (he pushes him into the school swimming pool at one point and then has to pull him back out because Mob never learned to swim and is drowning. major L for Teru's pride), taunting him, using blunt force and watching in disbelief while the other boy just takes it and breathes through the pain. He expected Mob to hit back right away, and then Teru would use a bit more strength and intimidate his opponent so much that he'd admit Teru's strength is way beyond him and then they'd be on amicable terms. But that doesn't happen.

Also, Dimple isn't back yet in this AU, so the fight takes place mostly in silence, which weirds Teru out. He's used to fighting with people yelling and screaming around him, and hearing nothing but pained noises and a few confused questions out of his opponent really bothers Teru. He grabs Mob and shakes him, asking why won't you fight back??. He's definitely like Teru! he's got the misty eyes and he's breathing out miasma and he has the healing ability to jerk his arms free of the ropes he was tied with and have the raw rope-scrapes on his arms heal over a minute later, but he won't! fight! back!!

Meanwhile, as Teru is shaking him by the shirt-collars, Mob is having flashbacks to his life wandering as a zombie before the cure. He's remembering Dimple clearer than he ever has before, and he's embracing those memories for once, clinging to his guilt over (he suspects) killing his friend. And, remembering how nice Dimple was to him and Ritsu, how Dimple shared strawberries with them, how he would coax Mob out of the rain, how Dimple reached for Mob's face while Mob's teeth were closing in his arm—he stares at Teru with all the loathing he feels toward himself, for killing Dimple.

Teru says, "What's with that look?"

Mob says, "I was just wondering, why do you feel the need to hurt people who are just trying to live? Do you think you have to, because you're a zombie?"

And Teru, who tries not to think of himself as a zombie, goes, "What?"

"Oh, I was just thinking—there was someone I knew who was a pretty good guy—compared to you. And I hurt him."

That makes Teru drop Mob like a hot potato. He doesn't want to fight like a zombie but he has to get this hypocrite who hurt his own friend and refuses to fight him to DO something—and they happen to be in the home ec room, right by the gas-powered generator for the home ec equipment, so Teru causes a gas explosion on purpose and blocks the door with his body, trying to force Mob to fight his way out to avoid burning alive. That's how Teru ends up losing his perfect hair—he may be special but he's still got zombie disease, his pain receptors don't work right and Mob is coughing too hard in the smoke to warn Teru that the fire ran along the ceiling and got to Teru's hair. The fire is how Mob's clothes get singed. He's not seriously burned, at least not by the time Teru sees him next (Teru rushed to the swimming pool when he realized his hair was on fire), but he's shaken and coughing and smells like smoke.

They both stumble out of the burning school building. Mob has his Moment Of Realization and correctly guesses that Teru's life is completely empty; Teru's acting like this because he's trying to ignore that he's a zombie and has no real friends because everyone is scared of him, and Teru isn't making any effort to live like a person instead of a monster.

That's when Teru just straight-up strangles Mob, throwing away his determination not to fight like a zombie. Mob has already ruined Teru's untouchable appearance and likely condemned Teru to being shot by his own people for causing all this property damage. Teru's life as a human is over already, he thinks. Mob refuses to fight back, passes out, ???% appears, you know how it goes.

And get this: Mob's zombie disease colony has expended a lot of its energy already (consuming its own drones for sheer power) to heal Mob from the blows and the burns, so when ???% puts his body into high gear, the colony registers EMERGENCY CONDITIONS and starts replenishing its energy using anything available—the colony deploys its own disease drones into the entire surrounding area and consumes all of the miasma in the air and water and, STILL not having enough energy for this, dives into Teru's body and eats 90% of Teru's colony. This is the equivalent of ???% absorbing all of the energy in the atmosphere AND Teru's psychic powers, which always makes me hold my breath in canon.

Teru can see this happening, by the way. Like Mob, he can sense the presence of zombie disease in all forms. He senses Kageyama's disease colony suddenly exploding from his body and eating all of the colonies in the area. what a sight to behold.

Anyway, so, yeah, Mob then wakes up with his body fully healed, in front of a burning school building, sensing absolute emptiness all around him.

He can't fix the school building. Not in this au. All he can do is kneel down and cry. He failed to change. He thought he was better now, he thought that he was in control of himself now, but he did it again—he hurt someone on accident again.

And then Teru stumbles over to him with his hip still spasming from where ???% threw him by his leg and goes, "Kageyama, you were right... without our power, we have nothing..."

and Mob looks up to see people stirring around them, and Teru is alive, he didn't kill Teru, he didn't kill anyone, and he goes back to Salt with the Body Improvement Club in a kind of shell-shocked daze.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

cracking up at the saloon sound effect of a guy doing a perfectly enunciated "Yahoo!" when Jed wakes up after passing out at 58 minutes in its so awkward. is this meant to be the sound of a guy having sex. is this what it sounds like. it sounds like the guy doing this sound effect just found out his favorite restaurant was going to shut down and then they were like alright go record something that sounds excited and he was like "... yahooo? :/ can I go home now I'm very sad" and they were like "sure. that works."

[beee-tle]

accepting cashapp now for stuff!!

ill do customs for 5$ (onbase, same-day), abstract scenes for 15$, and full scenes for 15-20$! (examples in order)

[cerealbishh]

"You know what I was for Halloween when I was two? A firefighter. And when I was three? A firefighter. And four through fourteen?"

"You were still trick-or-treating when you were fourteen?"

"Yeah. Yeah, as a firefighter. Eve, all I know how to be is a firefighter."

[sweetestpopcorn]

Why are Green fans so obsessed with Catholicism? They even see Alicent as a repressed Catholic lesbian, while in real life, she would be Amy Coney Barrett, one of the U.S. Supreme Court’s conservative justices.

Hi there,

You seem to be lost here Anon, or maybe you are making the wrong question.

I don’t know how many more times I need to remind you all but there are two canons. Asoiaf and g*t just as there are two Alicent’s. Actual Alicent and Alicia from redacted.

I only debate asoiaf canon unless it’s to make a joke and in that case I mock redacted.

So let’s see who is asoiaf Alicent that some of you try to mix up with Alicia though it takes some pathological levels of cognitive dissonance 😂

Asoiaf Alicent is ten years older than Rhaenyra. She was actually 18 when she married King Viserys who was 28. If any redacted fan needs reminder this is actually one of the smallest age differences considering the Dance couples and in Westeros not only were girls married as young as 13, but 16 was considered the age of majority. No one would consider a 15 year old a child and too young for intercourse. Be that as it may the one seduced at 15 - by Daemon who didn’t give half a fig about her age - was Rhaenyra. Oh and he didn’t suffer from erectile disfunction.

Alicent also became a mother when she was 19-20, an age were most women already had kids. For instance redacted fans, did you know that by 20 Rhaenyra had three sons? And she became a mother at 17 so at least 2 years younger than Alicent? And she married Daemon when she was 23 and he 39. Just a thought if age differences bother you and young women being seduced bother you 😌

But back to Asoiaf Alicent.

We have no indication of her being a lesbian, and if she was, I would certainly not say she had the hots for a woman she bullied all her life, that she wished to die in childbirth, whose sons she called “bastard blood shed at war”, and who took on under her employment a man who she had previously called out for being a creep to her then 12-13 year old stepdaughter. Yes. The only person in the books who says something that could imply that there was something going on between Rhaenyra and Criston - with a somewhat big stretch due to her age and what happened afterwards - was Alicent Hightower.

Does she do anything about it? Yes, takes him under her employment after Rhaenyra is forced to marry Laenor.

Yea that’s right, Rhaenyra is forced to marry not Alicent.

So you see Anon, I discuss asoiaf canon, and the Alicent people like and defend, and the one you are talking about, is redacted Alicia which is a different character so I can’t really comment unless to say she’s actually a walking meme whose entire personality is suffering at the hands of eVIL mEn and show how deranged the Tedescos - especially the men of course - are. Still my heart goes out to her because she was married against her will to the pos wife killer that suffers from Leprosy.

Plus she had to be friends with Renada.

She has my deepest sympathies.

All the best to you and next time please try to find a redacted blog 😊

[caramel-ribbons]

I just watched Avatar for the first time all the way through, and yeah, it’s great, but the one thing that surprised me was how different Katara was compared to the fandom interpretation I’d seen and internalized before watching.

Like, before you watch Avatar, you’ve seen all these memes about Katara and her mom, and based on those memes, you assume it’s one of those lines you have to get used to hearing at least once every episode. But then you watch the show and realize that she only talks about her mom maybe five or six times per season and you also realize she only brings her up when she’s trying to comfort someone or empathize with them because that’s how she processes her grief and that’s one way she connects with people.

Or you hear the infamous line, “then you didn’t love [our mother] the way I did” and you prepare yourself for one of the worst character assassinations ever only to see the scene after nearly three seasons worth of context and realize she was kinda right. She’s been the mother, the nurturer, the comforter. She’s been patient, gentle, and accommodating where everyone else has gotten to be insensible and reckless and childish, and the one moment where she allows herself to feel her grief, suddenly she’s this evil bitch and not, y’know, a 14 year old girl whose been thrusted into adulthood in a way no other character has. A 14 year old girl who should be allowed immaturity and raw emotion and anger instead of the patience and grace she’s been forced to extend to every character without even the smallest amount of gratitude or even consideration in return.

Or you see all of the clips where Katara puts Aang in the “friendzone” and you expect to have this wishy washy back and forth where Aang is putting his feelings out there only to have Katara neither commit nor express any clear reciprocation or rejection. Then you watch and realize that, as cute as the ship is initially, that there’s never a point where Aang returns any comfort or grace to Katara despite her always doing this for him to the point of coddling. That for as much as Aang says he loves her, he never seems to outgrow his perception of her so he can recognize her as someone who feels grief, anger, and pain as much as she expresses love, kindness, and maturity. And instead of having moments where he learns to see her beyond her strength or compassion, you’re instead given moments where Aang forces his feelings onto her, both romantic and non-romantic, and Katara is expected to just…shoulder those feelings the way she shoulders everyone else’s.

Katara is the most misunderstood character in the show. As much as people recognize the complexities of Zuko, Sokka, and Azula, they struggle to do the same for Katara because they see her struggles as somehow lesser, and therefore, less deserving of sympathy. They can handle her so long as she’s being endlessly patient and loving and kind, but the moment her endless love, patience, and kindness runs out, she’s suddenly this annoying bitch who can’t shut up about her mother or reciprocate Aang’s feelings. But Katara’s trauma does matter as much as anyone else’s. No, she wasn’t banished from her kingdom. No, she didn’t lose her entire community, and no, she isn’t the only one who lost her mother. But the difference between her and everyone else whose experienced loss because of the Fire Nation is that she’s never given time to process her trauma. Aang gets to lean on Katara constantly. Toph gets to express her feelings to Katara, and yeah, Sokka also lost their mother, but unlike Katara, he isn’t put in the position of being a substitute for everyone’s parent. He even admits that he sees his sister as a mother. The only characters who ever comfort Katara or allow her to vent is Zuko and her father and that’s, like, three scenes in a show where the other characters are consistently given opportunities to seek out Katara for unconditional support.

The fandom interpretation of Katara has been so bastardized that even those who haven’t watched the show know her for this fanon version and not for who she is. She’s such an interesting character beyond her fandom limitations, though. She’s brave, hot-headed, and hopeful as well as gentle and caring. She wishes to learn waterbending, not only because she wants to fight in the war, but because she wants to continue her culture’s practices because, and people often forget this, she also lost an entire subculture within her already fractured tribe. And she wants to defeat the Fire Nation both because of her deep love and empathy for other people, but also because she wants to avenge her mother. But because some of the fans have reduced Katara to a bitch who constantly whines about her mother and friendzones Aang, you wouldn’t know any of this, and it sucks because she’s the only character whose been dumbed down to such an extent.

[dreamchasernina]

So I had to stop on episode 6. Gonna continue watching tonight. I just have one thing to say so far. People think a good adaptation is the one that follows the story of the original. It’s not. It’s the characters. The characters are the ones that made the original so good. And none of them are as fleshed out here. You cannot seriously tell me the katara you see in the original is the one you see in the live action.

The writers decided to take the struggle and the growth of the characters away. I’m on episode 6. So far, Aang had everything come so easy to him, he didn’t struggle at all. Kyoshi fought for him at Kyoshi island. He enters the spirit world so easily, he finds Roku so freaking fast, he immediately knows Hei Bai is the spirit of the forest, out of nowhere. He learns absolutely nothing through those 6 episode. I could talk for hours about how that scene with Gyatso was a cop out. Why should their main character suffer right? He shouldn’t. So they just make up a scene where Aang meets Gyatso and he just outright tells him there’s nothing he could have done so he shouldn’t feel guilty.

The OG never had that scene. Because the OG knew the audience was smart enough to realize it themselves. There was nothing Aang could have done if he hadn’t run away, he would have died. But Aang needs to realize this himself, he needs to confront his feelings, learn from his mistakes, forgive himself and move on. But these days, writers don’t want their characters going through a journey, nope, the characters are just perfect, from the beginning to end.

Same said for Zuko. The writers apparently decided to make him softer, have higher morals, not as angry or determined, because that would make Zuko complex and interesting. He was good at heart in the OG show too, but he was spoiled and angry and violent. He’s none of that here, he’s gentle and respectful to everyone and just wants to capture the avatar, but not too much though. Zuko doesn’t even give everything he has to capture Aang, he doesn’t hire pirates, he doesn’t hire June himself (Iroh has to convince him to do it), he doesn’t follow Aang into the fire nation, you don’t feel his desperation, his determination, just how much he wants to go home. How could his journey feel interesting when we don’t see the dramatic shift in his character? The most interesting character in the show is not as ineteresting when he doesn’t go from a spoiled angry hurt teenager to an honorable smart and compassionate young man.

Yes, the story is fine, the visuals are nice, but it’s all very surface level. Everything is just flat.

[eglerieth]

Some of y’all are not appreciating Bilbo Baggins enough. I am here to remedy that. This guy has:

• somehow managed to establish himself as a respectable, staid hobbit by the time he was fifty, despite being both a grandson of Bullroarer Took and the Shire champion of pretty much every aiming-game known to hobbitkind

• had an in-depth debate on pleasantries with a random guy passing by in the street, who turned out to be GANDALF

• collapsed in front of his own fire shaking and muttering “struck by lightning” over and over again in response to hearing about dragons and danger

• mind you, this was after he screamed loud enough to startle a roomful of Dwarves

• signed up for a dangerous quest completely outside of his league out of spite

• when told to scout out a mysterious light, saw some trolls, and instead of reporting back with the information, decided to PICK THE TROLLS POCKET

• arrived in Rivendell for the first time and said it “smelled like elves”

• upon meeting a strange creature that visibly wanted to eat him, he decided to play a riddle game with him- and guessed pretty much every one, and made up his own riddles, afraid and alone, that not only were good and full of linguistic puns, but actually stumped the other guy- AND THEN CHEATED AND WON WITH A QUESTION

• showed mercy to said strange creature who wanted to kill him, and was now standing between him and freedom

• eavesdropped on the dwarves arguing over whether to try to save him, then popped up casually smack in the middle of them just as they were debating

• somehow managed to sleep like a log at the really really high eyrie full of wild predators

• found himself in a bad situation, said eff it, and turned around and antagonized and fought off an insane amount of man eating spiders, like enough of them that fifty was a small portion, by singing at them with incredibly complex and punny insulting songs composed on the spot, while simultaneously slaying them in multitudes despite having zero combat training. Seriously, we don’t discuss enough how epic the spider scene is.

• broke a company of dwarves out of the very secure prison of the Elvenking by inventing white water rafting with barrels

• charmed his way out of being eaten by a dragon

• stole the frickin Arkenstone from the guys who employed him, one of whom was a king

• took part in an epic battle, only to be knocked out in the first ten minutes and miss the entire thing

• was named elf-friend by the guy who’s prisoners he sprung

• wrote his own autobiography, complete with all the narrative recognition of his own heroics

• spent 60 years writing said autobiography

• taught his lower class neighbor’s kid how to read

• taught his nephew Elvish- not only Sindarin, but Quenya too

• spent decades telling his cousins his own story as fairy tales, complete with character impressions accurate enough that one of them was able to fool a servant of the Enemy with a second hand impression

• used the One Ring of Power to hide from his neighbors

• planned an elaborate feast with multiple social faux pas to mess with his neighbors, complete with a purposefully bewildering speech and culminating in him vanishing into thin air in front of everyone

• left his cousins and neighbors very unsubtle passive aggressive gifts in his will

• settled into Rivendell, randomly befriended the heir to the throne of like half of Middle Earth, and apparently spent his time writing very personal poems about his hosts and reciting them to crowds of elves

• after being invited to a Council of basically every major kingdom in the continent, spent a quarter of the time reciting vague poems about his friends, a quarter of the time telling anyone who would listen about his heroic past, and half the time interrupting to ask when lunch would be

• volunteered to bring the ring to Mordor

• became one of only four or five mortals in history to live in Valinor

Seriously, Bilbo Baggins may well be the most chaotic, insane person in the entire legendarium, and that includes the likes of people like Finrod “bit a werewolf to death to save the life of guy who he just met and gave up his kingdom for” Felagund.

[kaleidohscopic]

TRY AGAIN — JJH

PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx

You should’ve brought an umbrella. 

The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of. 

A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.

“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.

“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.

She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”

“Yippee. How exciting.”

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”

“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back. 

Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”

“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”

“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.” 

Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself. 

On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.

However, Joy was a meddler.

Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.

Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.

Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.

Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun. 

Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun. 

Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.

Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.

Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.

Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.

You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.

The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?

You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—

And froze.

“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you. 

You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.

This was not happening.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.

How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.

“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials. 

Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.

Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor. 

“Wait,” he pleaded. 

Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold. 

“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.

And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.

“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”

“Did you plan this?”

He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”

Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”

He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?

An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.

Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight. 

Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.

“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold. 

A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago. 

They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.

“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?” 

Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.

Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented. 

For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.

The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.

It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.

“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.

God, this was fucking awkward.

“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”

You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.” 

Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether. 

“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.

You were curt. “No.” 

He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years. 

A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.

“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.

“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.

You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.

“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.

Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”

You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.” 

“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”

“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice. 

Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.

“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would. 

How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself. 

A time rather distant from now.

You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”

Three seconds passed in silence. 

His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.

“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean? 

True? 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush. 

Or maybe you had. 

Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.

Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.

Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said. 

But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.

Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit. 

(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)

Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you. 

You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?

“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”

You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision. 

Please, let’s not talk about that.

A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did. 

And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment. 

“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.” 

Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you. 

You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again. 

The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try mine?”

Sneakiness had never been your forte.

Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.

Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?

But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind. 

A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.

The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory. 

For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.

A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.

“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.

“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”

Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right? 

So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways. 

Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.

You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)

He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.

Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower. 

“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.

“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.” 

There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”

It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.

Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window. 

The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light. 

You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?

“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.

He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car. 

But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things. 

First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.

And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.

There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.

It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.

No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.

A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by. 

“You should have told me!”

You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”

“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”

“You said a total of three sentences about him.”

She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug. 

Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.

“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”

“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”

“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”

She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly. 

“You can what?”

This was new information.

“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.

“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it. 

“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”

“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.

However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.

Speaking of this morning…

“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”

“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”

You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack. 

Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.  

“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it. 

“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.

Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”

Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years. 

“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead. 

A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.

The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow. 

“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.

“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”

You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.” 

“Who did?”

“The guy at the front.” 

Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams… 

The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—

“Jaehyun?”

His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.

You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?

I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.

“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”

You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.

“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.

“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air. 

There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.

Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.

Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.

“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”

“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting. 

Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.

The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought. 

“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. 

Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on. 

“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.

“Are you still in the line?”

“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix. 

Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today. 

Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.

Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience. 

Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.

Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing. 

Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.

The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him. 

“Your cardigan,” he said.

“Huh?”

Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.

“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”

“You do?” 

“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?” 

Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.

“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.

Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence. 

“Let me pay you back for dinner.” 

Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing. 

Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides. 

“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.

“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.

The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.

Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.

“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.

He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm. 

Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.

The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag. 

“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.” 

You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself. 

“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.

You gave him a careful look. 

“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked. 

“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows. 

Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—

“Do you want my number?”

Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words. 

“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.” 

Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.

There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?

“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”

Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.

A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.

“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.

“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”

You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”

“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on. 

Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.

“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.

“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”

“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”

Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”

“So that’s a no to the coffee?”

“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.

And frowned.

You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.

That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.

On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.

Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.

“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”

The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.

“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”

“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.

The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission. 

It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day. 

jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake

The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.

Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.

He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.

You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel. 

You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before. 

Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend. 

You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s. 

With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor. 

Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet. 

“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach. 

“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face. 

You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.” 

The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior. 

“Anyways, I think he left you something.”

You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.

It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule. 

There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook. 

saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^

Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.

“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing. 

“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice. 

“It’s Jaehyun.” 

You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed. 

“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”

You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone. 

“Do you have plans later today?”

You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.  

“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.

“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”

You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living. 

“Come with me?”

The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face. 

“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”

And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend. 

“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.

So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase. 

“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”

“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there. 

He laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.

It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate. 

Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory. 

The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave. 

“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said. 

“Different good or different bad?”

A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”

“So do you,” you replied. 

You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago. 

“Did you taxi?”

“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.

“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”

A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”

The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.

“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”

He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”

“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.” 

Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”

You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.” 

The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.

“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”

The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face. 

Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath. 

You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade. 

The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks. 

“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.

“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”

You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”

You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting. 

Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind. 

Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.  

“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.

“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”

“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”

He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.

“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”

Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.

“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”

The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around. 

Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.

Or so you thought.

“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.” 

“What do you like about it?”

He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”

“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.

“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.

“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”

“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”

Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.

The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries. 

The feeling of coming home.

The shutter clicked.

“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”

You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”

He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart. 

The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.

He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?” 

“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.

If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands. 

The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.

Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition. 

“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.

“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.

“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”

“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”

“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”

“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.

Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.

“What do you say? Want to join us?”

Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.

So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.

Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices. 

After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”

The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.

To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”

“Oh, what?” 

You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.

“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”

You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”

“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”

“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”

The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”

His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold. 

“I wouldn’t leave you.”

The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate. 

“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”

To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.

And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?

No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses. 

As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.

“Walking down an empty street.”

A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you. 

Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv? 

Were you?

“Puddles underneath our feet.”

Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button. 

The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.

You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”

Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.

Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.

And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.

“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around. 

What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.

Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone. 

“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”

Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.

The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.

The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding. 

“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.

You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.

“How about the bus?”

“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”

You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.

“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.

You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.

“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”

“Okay,” you said.

His head shot back up. “Okay?”

You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”

“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”

The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.

You said a silent apology to the building cleaners. 

It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. 

The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes. 

You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. 

Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him. 

It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls. 

You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.

Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.

“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said. 

Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.

The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.

“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.

“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.

“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”

An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?” 

Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.

“Myself.” 

He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.

“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.

For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.

The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek. 

Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both. 

Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”

The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.

“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced. 

You exchanged a glance.

“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.

“Are we having ramen?”

His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.

“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”

It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.

“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him. 

Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.

“No,” he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.

Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display. 

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face. 

Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?

You scoffed to yourself. As if.

A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking. 

Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki. 

The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.

However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.

You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face. 

“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?” 

He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.

“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them. 

You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”

“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled. 

“Was it really that bad?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”

“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.

“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”

You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time. 

Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.

“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.

“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”

“And funnier,” he added.

“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly. 

“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”

You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him. 

“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious. 

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again. 

“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”

Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you. 

I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.

Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm. 

Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.

“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.

If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation. 

“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”

You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”

“You’re her only daughter.”

“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”

The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes. 

You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.

Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?

“You’ve got something…”  Jaehyun murmured.

He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.

Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.

Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.

Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.

“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying. 

Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”

“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.

This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.

You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did. 

“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”

The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest. 

Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.

Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.

Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands? 

How embarrassing.

One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.

“Will you stop messing with that thing?”

Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag. 

“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.

“You’re so pedantic.”

“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”

“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk. 

You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’. 

How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment. 

“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.

“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”

You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”

It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too. 

You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight. 

“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”

He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”

“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”

“Shut up.”

The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect. 

“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”

“Maybe you should let me try.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”

“Hello?” 

An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?” 

“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison. 

“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked. 

“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”

“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.

“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. “I’m Doyoung, by the way.”

You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.

“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.

Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”

You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either. 

There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.

Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.

How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area. 

Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—

“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?” 

Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”

You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.

Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.

“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s. 

There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.

“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.

Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.

“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”

“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.

“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”

“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”

“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”

Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.

“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.

You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”

Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.” 

You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.

“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze. 

Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.

Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement. 

“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.

Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”

“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.

It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room. 

You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.

Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.

You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.

Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea. 

Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.

Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.

“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development. 

And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.

You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?

“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.

You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours. 

The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth. 

(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)

“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”

“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.” 

The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room. 

The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles. 

“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile. 

He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own. 

You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”

“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”

“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”

He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth. 

“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”

Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety. 

At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence. 

“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.

“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”

“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”

You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.

“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.

“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.” 

There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time. 

A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.

“Were you really upset to see me?”

Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.

“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”

A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour. 

Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.

There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.

If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.

Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist. 

“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.

You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.

Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold. 

“Me too,” he said softly.

Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually. 

Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.

“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”

Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off. 

Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side. 

“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”

He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.

“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?

“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 

Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.

“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”

Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.

You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.” 

Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.

Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.

“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.

The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours. 

By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row. 

Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination. 

“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.

“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.

The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules. 

Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.

“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”

You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.” 

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.

“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”

“Mmffh.” 

Another brilliant and enlightening response.

The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway. 

Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.

“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers. 

You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table. 

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”

He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it. 

The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.

“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.

“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.

The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.

Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.

Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”

“Still not a real word.”

You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.

“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”

Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.

The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.

“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed. 

Your footsteps faltered. 

“You’re going to New York?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“When?”

“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said. 

Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?

It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail. 

Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”

The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment. 

Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.

It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again. 

“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”

You.

He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.

He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk. 

“But I have to,” he agreed. 

Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.

Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.

“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”

And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.

There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you. 

And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it. 

You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.

“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.

This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.

And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.

Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you. 

“What is it?” he asked.

There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own. 

Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.

To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips. 

They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently. 

“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory. 

What difference did it make?

It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.

The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp. 

You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it. 

How had you denied yourself of this for so long?

Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.

“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret. 

“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.

Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.

You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips. 

He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. 

“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed. 

Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.

No matter. You’d wait for him to come back. 

“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.

“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass. 

Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”

“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”

The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.

“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”

“Someone should,” you agreed.

Neither of you made a move.

As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.

September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight. 

Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.

“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.

Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”

Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness. 

“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.

It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.

“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”

The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.

Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”

“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.

You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.

Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid. 

The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.

Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.

You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.

this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.

He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.

The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?

You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.

“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

A soft gasp left your mouth.

“Jaehyun?”

He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.

“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”

“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”

Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”

“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”

He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view. 

“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”

“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”

You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront. 

With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.

Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.

He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”

“Oh, Jaehyun—”

“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”

Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.

“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”

It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.

“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”

“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”

You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?” 

There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.

Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it. 

“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”

I do, you wanted to say. 

You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.

“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”

Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.

You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.

“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”

A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.

“You… love me?”

“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”

One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones. 

Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm. 

Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.

“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him. 

His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips. 

“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.” 

“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”

You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”

Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours. 

“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”

“Do you want to go in now?”

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”

He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes. 

“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck. 

“You kept this?” 

“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”

He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated. 

“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”

Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.

“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar. 

A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy. 

joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!

joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet

“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”

Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”

Life was a funny thing. 

“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”

Roundabout. 

“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”

Unpredictable. 

“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”

He raised his glass. 

“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.

“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”

A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.

“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”

Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”

“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.

“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.

Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.

“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”

A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”

“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.

“No! Why?”

He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—” 

Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.

“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.

“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”

“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”

Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.

“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.

He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Or what?”

His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.

“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.

“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.

Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.  

Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.

“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.

Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.

“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”

You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.

Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.

“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”

His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling. 

“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back. 

Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”

You nodded. 

A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile. 

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again. 

There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that. 

“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.

He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”

A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well. 

You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.

“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them. 

You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much. 

“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

“You’ll say it anyway.”

“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”

Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips. 

“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”

You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees. 

“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile. 

He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.

Maybe a little too much. 

You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach. 

“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”

You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.  

“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing. 

You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.

[markrosewater]

The Nadu Situation

This has become a big topic in the community this week, so I wanted to add my thoughts to the discussion. My focus isn’t on the banning, but on the behind-the-scenes processes that led to it. I’m Head Designer, so I want to focus on the design elements of the situation.

When we make Magic there are a few things we do to try and make it the best it can be. First, we design in what we call an iterative loop. That is, we make something, we playtest it, we get feedback, we make changes on that feedback, and begin the next iteration of the loop. We try to get as many iterative loops in as we can before the set is locked (aka “no more changes”).

No matter where we set that line, there’s a last day to make changes. Moving that line earlier doesn’t change anything other than giving us less iterative loops to improve things. Also, we make lots and lots of last minute changes. The vast majority of them make the game better. I understand there’s more focus on the times we make a mistake, but it represents a truly small percentage of the changes.

Also, whenever we design a card, we ask ourselves, who is this card for? If we’re trying to make game play the best it can be, it helps to understand who will use the card, where they will use it, and what they will do with it. Obviously, in a game as modular as Magic, the players can often zig when we expect them to zag, but in general, this process leads to the best design.

We have two play design teams, one focused on competitive play and one focused on casual play. The competitive play design teams determines which cards they think have a shot at competitive play (remember we’re making predictions as where we think the environment might go,we don’t definitively know; we need to make an environment complex enough as to entertain tens of millions of players). The casual play design team then looks as the cards that don’t play a competitive role to see what casual role they can play.

With that said, let me respond to a few popular lines this week:

“Stop designing for Commander” - The nature of competitive formats is that only so many cards can be relevant. As you start making more competitive relevant cards, they displace the weakest of the existing relevant cards. That’s how a trading card game works. That means that not every card in a set (or even just the rares and mythic rares as the commons and uncommons have a big role making the limited environment work) has a competitive role. As such, we examine how they will play in more casual settings. There’s no reason not to do that. And when you think of casual settings, you are remiss if you don’t consider Commander. It’s the 800-pound gorilla of tabletop play (aka the most played, heavily dominant format). Us considering the casual ramifications of a card that we didn’t feel was competitively viable is not what broke the card. Us missing the interaction with a component of the game we consider broken and have stopped doing (0 cost activations), but still lives on in older formats is the cause.

“Stop making late changes” - Whenever you see an airplane on the news, something bad has happened. It crashed, or caught on fire, or had an emergency landing, or a door fell off. Why do we still make planes? Because planes are pretty useful and what’s being highlighted is the worst element. That focus can lead people to false assumptions. Magic would not be better if we stopped making last changes. A lot *more* broken things would get through (things we caught and changed), and many more cards just wouldn’t be playable. Our process of fixing things up to the last minute does lots and lots of good. Maybe it doesn’t get the focus of the screw ups, but it leads to better design.

“Everything needs to get playtested” - My, and my team’s, job is to take a blank piece of paper and make something that doesn’t exist exist. That’s not an easy thing to do. I believe play design’s job is even harder. They’re trying to make a balanced environment with thousands of moving pieces a year in the future. And if we’re able to solve it on our end, that means the playerbase will crack it in minute one of playing with it. One minute, by the way, is the time it takes the Magic playerbase to play with a set as much as we can. There are tens of millions of you and a handful of us. There simply isn’t time in the day to test everything, so the play design team tests what they think has the highest chance of mattering. They take calculated gambles (based on years of experience) and test the things most likely to cause problems. Will things slip through? There’s no way they can’t. The system is too complex to not miss things.That doesn’t mean we don’t continually improve our processes to lower the chances of mistakes, but nothing we’re going to do can completely eliminate them.

Designing Magic is difficult. Next year is my thirtieth year working on the game, and I think we have the most talented team we’ve ever had. Plus, just as we iterate on the designs in a set, we iterate on design processes of making Magic. How we make Magic today is light years different, and I believe better, than how we made Magic when I started. (”If I have seen further, it’s because I stand on the shoulder of giants.”)

One final thing. I’ve always pushed for transparency in Magic design. No one on the planet has written/spoken about it more than me. I truly believe Magic is better as a game because its players have the insight to understand what we, the people making it, are doing. We do ask for one thing in exchange. Please treat the designers who take the time to share with you the behind-the-scenes workings of Magic design with kindness. We are all human beings with feelings. There’s nothing wrong with feedback, but it can be delivered with common courtesy.

[annievrse]

Break Through, Break Down / Act III

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader  Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place post-time skip. W/C: 20k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Zou spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, mentions of torture and violence, mentions of past trauma (Law), Doflamingo.

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

You need to get to Sabaody. 

You don’t know how because Law sure as hell isn’t going back to Paradise, not when everything is going to plan. But it must be done; you must be at Sabaody Archipelago in a month. Everything you’ve done to get stronger has been to meet your family back on Sabaody. 

You feel like you’ve betrayed the Straw Hats by going to the New World before them. That was the plan after all, but you got so caught up with the Heart Pirates and helping Law that the thought of meeting Luffy at Sabaody had slipped your mind. You scolded yourself every day for it. 

Law achieved Warlord status, and as you watch him say farewell to Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, and the rest of the crew, you mull over how much you’ve fucked up the original plan. 

It’s been a year and a half since Law presented the ninety-eight pirate hearts he collected on Hachinosu and the two single hearts, one from Seamus Wells and the other from the noble on the passenger ship before the Navy Headquarters. He wore his usual smirk and callous facade while the rest of you stood on the deck of the Polar Tang with guns pointed at you from every angle. From what you remember, the Marines looked mortified, some sick, and others confused—you were used to it at that point, wearing a bored expression while Law went inside the complex to talk with someone higher up. Your anxiety that day spread like wildfire through your body, but you knew he’d get what he wanted. 

Now, you stand before the Polar Tang on an island overrun with snow and ice on one side and fire and lava on the other. You wrap your arms around yourself, the thick jacket you wear doing nothing against the frigid wind of Punk Hazard. Law stands beside you with his jacket zipped up to his chin, his katana resting on his shoulder. 

“Be careful!” Bepo yells, his paws covering his mouth to project his voice. 

“We’ll be fine,” Law calls. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Penguin laughs before coughing, the winter air tightening his chest. “When are we ever stupid?” 

“Bye!” Ikkaku yells, waving at you. 

You smile and wave back. “Be safe!”

You have grown closer to Ikkaku during your time on the Polar Tang. She no longer regards you with disdain and is grateful for another woman on the sub. It’s refreshing to have a female friendship again—and the thought makes the taste of Sabaody bitter in your mouth. 

Law clicks his tongue and turns, making his way toward the giant laboratory in the mountains. You stand there, watching the Heart Pirates shut the door and descend back into the sea, embarking on their journey to Zou. You sigh deeply and pull the beanie further over your ears. 

“C’mon!” 

You turn, your gaze remaining on when the submarine submerged. Though they aren’t going in the direction you need to go, and somewhere deep in your soul, you wish you could persuade them to go back over Reverse Mountain to Sabaody. 

Law calls your name, and you look toward him. His hand is outreached, and you rush over to him as quickly as possible in this weather and take it. You shake your head to rid your mind of the impossible. 

“This guy knows we’re coming, right?” 

He clears his throat. “He knows I’m coming.” 

“So we’re not going to get attacked?” 

“Shouldn’t.” 

You roll your lips between your teeth and huddle closer to Law. Glancing up at him, the red tint to his cheeks is mainly from the icy wind, but you know it’s also because you’re holding his hand. You refrain from giggling, knowing he’d only scold you for such trivial things, but he knows you too well.

“You better not be laughing at me.” 

You snort. “Never, my love.” 

Law rolls his eyes and says nothing, though he squeezes your gloved hand tighter. 

“While we’re here, I need you to do something for me.” 

You nod with owlish eyes. “Of course.” 

“There’s no doubt in my mind that Caesar Clown has this place on lockdown, with cameras and shit… So we need to do this here,” He pauses, looking toward the mountain. “I need you to keep my heart safe.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stop, the snow squeaking under your feet. “Why?”

Law senses your worried tone and faces you. “I’m going to give my ‘heart’ to them to prove my loyalty.” 

“Your ‘heart’?” 

“I have an extra heart from Hachinosu,” Law says. “You’re going to keep mine safe while I hand over this one.” 

You purse your lips, your own heart racing. “Okay. Right now?” 

“Right now,” He urges, lifting his hand to his chest. “I should’ve done it on the sub, but I got sidetracked…” 

You feel your cheeks warm at the connotation. “Yeah, well…” 

Law uses Scalpel, and a blue cube slides from his chest. “Keep it safe for me, sweetheart.” 

You open the flap of the bag you carry on your back and wrap it in a scarf crafted with Sew. “I have been for two years, haven’t I?” 

He snorts and digs around inside his coat for the pirate’s heart. Law inhales sharply before inserting it into the empty slot, his face scrunching in agony. You place your hand on his. 

“Careful,” You whisper, your gaze running over his face as his expression evens out. 

“I’m good.”

You hum, swinging the backpack over your shoulder. The wind whistles through the barren land, and the laboratory looks further away than it did a second ago. “If you could Shamble us up there right now, I’d be eternally grateful.” 

Law gives a sidelong glance but flicks his fingers up anyway. “You’re annoying.” 

“I love you,” You tease, leaning up and kissing his freezing cheek. 

His gaze softens, and then you’re stumbling. 

Before you can complain to him, Law is at the giant door, knocking. You don’t think anyone will answer until it slides open and a cloud of gas emerges. 

“Ceasar.”

“Trafalgar Law,” The gas speaks before materialising into a figure. A ten-foot man with horns in a yellow stripy jumpsuit and a purple cape towers over you, and you let out a squeak of surprise. “Who’s this?”

“My assistant.” 

Caesar huffs and looks you up and down. “Ugh, fine! Come with me. We have business to discuss before I let you roam around here… unsupervised.” 

You glance at Law, who looks straight ahead and follows the gas man inside. There’s a bad feeling swirling in your stomach, but you pay it no mind. 

— Scene 2 —

The inside of the laboratory is unsettling, almost as much as the looming presence of Caesar as he watches over you. Law is elsewhere, performing his part of the contract, healing Caesar’s underlings while you stay in this room. You make no sudden movements and keep your breathing steady. 

“So, what do you do out here? On Punk Hazard?” 

Caesar narrows his eyes. “Experiments.” 

You nod, knowing you weren’t getting more of an answer than that. “Cool.” 

The scientist makes no sound, and you chew on your bottom lip. 

“I could’ve sworn I’ve seen your face in the newspaper. Who are you again?”

You glance at Caesar, surprised he asked you a question but nervous about the former statement. “Law’s assistant.” 

“Huh,” Caesar mused. “Maybe I’m thinking of the wrong person…” 

Your stomach flips, and before you comprehend the situation, Caesar has you hanging in the air by your throat. 

“A Straw Hat,” He growls, his gas tightening around your neck. “Trafalgar Law brought a pirate into my laboratory.” 

You struggle to breathe and claw at the invisible hand. “No, it’s not like that, please.” 

“Law and I signed a contract,” Caesar says. “I don’t remember seeing your name in there.” 

“I’m just here to learn,” You squeeze your eyes closed and squeak out the syllables. 

“Learn about what?”

“Caesar.” 

The scientist freezes, his gas turning icy against your skin. “Law…”

“Put her down. I won’t ask again.” 

You feel your feet hit the floor, and then you crumble. You inhale sharply, the oxygen burning your lungs as you gulp it down hungrily. Coughing, you rub at your chest. “Asshole.” 

“Why did you bring a pirate here?” 

Law huffs harshly, glancing at you to see if you’re okay. When you are, he cocks his head at Caesar. “She’s my assistant. If you have a problem with that, I’ll happily turn your underlings back as they were.” 

Caesar giggles nervously. “No problems. None at all. Have you finished with them?” 

“Yes.” 

And then Caesar flies from the room. Law rushes over to you and helps you stand, cursing under his breath.

“I shouldn’t have left him alone with you.” 

You smile weakly, resting your palm on his cheek. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not,” He sits you down on the couch. “Fuck.” 

He inspects your neck; his fingers light on your skin as he traces the blooming bruises, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

“What do we do now?” You ask, deflecting his attention. Law’s gaze remains on your neck.

“We lay low, try not to draw attention to ourselves while we’re here. I need to gain their trust.” 

— Scene 3 —

It's been a month since you and Law arrived at Punk Hazard, and it’s been nothing short of boring. But Sabaody never left your mind. The date of the meeting came and went, and you felt guilt deep in your stomach, the feeling making you sick. There’s nothing you could have said or done, though you know Law wanted you to be there—he’d apologised every day, but it just wasn’t possible. 

Most days are the same: wake up, eat a meal of potato, rice, and curry, walk around the facility, eat another serving of potato, rice, and curry, and go to sleep. It’s mundane, but Law ensures there is a means to the end—find the SAD production room. It’s why you’re required to wander around the facility all day to inspect the thousands of rooms and decipher which is the one to destroy. 

You’ve had no luck so far; there are men in yellow suits in every direction who forbid you from going certain ways, but you aren’t stupid— you know the hallways lead to where you need to go. You just don’t know how to go about it. Sure, you could use Seam, and your mind and ability have strengthened substantially since Hachinosu. Still, there’s an unknown number of people in the facility, and anything above 300 souls would send you comatose. The limitation frustrates you. 

Caesar and his underling, Monet, project clear disdain toward you, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The winged woman is eerie, always watching you, like she knows you’re being untruthful about your intentions. There are moments when you’re walking the corridors, and there are screams, child-like wails of terror and anguish that have your hair standing on end. You choose not to ask Caesar or Monet about it; that would be foolish. Law says he’s heard it too but doesn’t know where it’s coming from—the cries echo like they’re everywhere, with no one place to pinpoint them to. It’s unsettling. 

“Located.” 

Law whispers it as he passes by you breezily. You gulp and suppress your relieved smile; the word brings you hope. 

You know Caesar’s hazmat crew hovers over you, the surveillance snails monitoring your every movement, but you neglect to care when you’ve just heard that you’ll soon be leaving. You don’t dare glance back at Law as he walks down the hallway you just came from and clench your fists tight to avoid doing so. 

A faraway scream draws you from your daze, and when it continues, you look back at Law. He’s at the end of the hall, stopped with his head tilted. You take a step, but a loud, echoing thump startles you. 

“Navy’s here,” Law calls, and then he takes off down the hall toward Building A. You sigh, perplexed as to how he could know that. “C’mon.” 

Your heart races as you do, the winter boots you wear barely gripping the slick vinyl floors. As you catch up to Law, you notice he’s taken on a leisurely stroll. 

“How do you know the Navy’s here?” You raise an eyebrow. Law huffs a laugh and adjusts his katana on his shoulder. 

“I heard chaos outside; looked in the surveillance room.” 

Your jaw drops. “How’d you get in there?” 

Law doesn’t respond since he knows you know the answer anyway. You give him a sidelong glance. 

“I’ve been trying to get in there for weeks…” You mumble, pouting. “And all I had to do was ask you.” 

Law shrugs and takes the left hallway at the fork. 

“Why are the Navy here anyway?” 

“I don’t know,” Law says, voice low. “But I don’t like it.” 

The knock is incessant, and it gets louder with each passing second. 

When you get to the door, Law huffs with irritation. He presses a red button, and the thick sheet of metal slides open a few feet. 

“Trafalgar Law.” 

You decide to hang back, not wanting to alert the Marines of your presence… besides, Law is a Warlord, and you’re not. 

You recognise the Navy Vice Admiral when he speaks, his deep timbre annoyed. “Trafalgar Law.”

Law scoffs lightly. “What brings you to my vacation home?” 

You close your eyes at his quip, his body leaning carelessly against the wall. The wind whistles harshly, and the icy air nips at your ears. It’s the only sound for a minute, the Navy seemingly shocked at Law’s presence. 

“Trafalgar! We understand you’re a Warlord, but we need to get past. Step aside!” The voice is familiar, and you comb through your memories to figure out who it belongs to. You faintly recall a woman with a sword, someone who Zoro complained about. “We already know you’re not the only one on this island.” 

You bite your tongue. There’s no way she could know you’re here. Law narrows his eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Tashigi, you remember. That’s her name. When she doesn’t answer, you dare a peek at her. She holds a Baby Transponder Snail in her hand, the gastropod warbling as it gains a signal. 

“Hello?—”

Your heart stops.

“My name is Monkey D. Luffy!”

You can’t move, the icy wind blowing through the crack in the door almost tipping you over. There’s no way. You touch Law’s back, begging to look at the snail closer. 

But you physically deflate when the call goes on and realise it’s a recording. 

“He said cold and named the island,” Tashigi’s voice cuts off your daze. “Given those facts, it's almost undeniable that the signal was sent from here.” 

Law remains silent. 

“And you’ve met Straw Hat before, haven’t you?” Smoker asks, folding his arms over his chest. “You helped him escape from Marineford.” 

You gulp and back away. If they knew you were here…

“Alright then, what now?” Law sighs. “I know you Marines are good at faking those distress signals.” 

Smoker raises an eyebrow, his cigar bobbing between his lips. “If you’re insinuating that this is a trap we set, you’re wrong.”

“Is that so?” Law scoffs. “Well, I haven’t got any information for you.” 

“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” Smoker growls. “Now, let us inside that lab.” 

“It’s my vacation home, that’s all. Beat it,” Law says, his tone growing agitated. “The Navy abandoned this place, so why does it matter if I’m here? I see nobody else around.” 

You’re on the verge of sprinting. The mention of Luffy and hearing his voice through the Snail has made you feel sick. You betrayed them, and now they’re here? You don’t think you can face them.

“And if Straw Hat does come knocking, I’ll behead him for you. Now, get lost.” 

You almost stumble and glare at the back of Law’s head—empty threats. 

Smoker and Tashigi say nothing, but they aren’t leaving. You raise your hand, ready to send their souls to Seam, when there’s a rumble behind you. 

“Wha—” A collection of footsteps clamber down the stairs, and you furrow your brows, your heart clenching with fear. What is that?

Law looks at you, his eyes widening as he spots something you can’t. You slowly turn, ignoring the chatter of confusion outside, and your jaw opens in both horror and shock. 

There are children—tens of them, running toward you, all dressed in the same white gown. But what puzzles you more is that some of them are 4 times your height. 

“What the…” Law muses, his voice trailing off. Your chest heaves like your lungs are trying to increase the oxygen to your brain because… what are you looking at?

The voices that scream behind them cause a chill down your spine. “We gotta get outta here!” 

“Look! There’s a door!” 

It can’t be. You blink,  tears pooling in your eyes. 

Law’s brows tug together as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on. 

Before your eyes, a large raccoon dog throws itself past you, kicking the door wider. You recognise the hat instantly and feel your knees buckle. More people rush past, and you’re disoriented by the chaos around you. 

“Woah! It’s freezing out here…” 

“Nami…” You whisper with confusion. “Nami!” 

You turn around to face the door, your hands clasped together on your chest. You hope you’re not mistaken.

Your name falls from her lips, and it's like the world is rewarding you for sticking it out and for surviving this long. She gasps, her familiar red hair a blur as she wraps her arms around you. 

“Nami,” You cry, pulling her tighter against you. 

“We thought—”

“I know,” Pulling your face back to explain yourself, Nami brushes stray hairs away from your eyes. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to Sabaody. I was already here, and—”

“Don’t apologise,” Nami exclaims, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

You frown, searching her eyes for any hint of a lie—you’re sure they’re upset and angry with you for not coming back when everyone else made the effort. But she’s genuine; she’s not mad. 

Law stands awkwardly in the doorway, staring down Smoker as he grapples with the shock of seeing so many children burst from the laboratory. And as confused and irritated Law is at Caesar for keeping these kids hostage, he can’t think about that when the Navy stands before him, ready to attack. Especially when you’re here, behind him, reuniting with your crew. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Franky the Tank!” 

A stunned laugh forces its way out of your chest, and you turn. Franky is coming toward you in a form you haven’t seen, with two children and Sanji behind him. They don’t seem to notice you and Nami yet, only the hoard of kids they saved. 

“It’s the Straw Hats…” You hear Tashigi call outside. Fear clings to you, and you shove Nami toward Franky and Sanji. 

“Go!” You yell. Sanji’s ears seem to perk up at the sound of your voice, and when he mumbles your name, he’s jumping off Franky and running. 

Law grunts but is focused on the Marines. Sanji yells your name again, a broad grin on his mouth. 

“My sweet!” He brings you into a hug. “I thought I would never see you again, my love. Are you okay?” 

You leer and nod, your cheeks hurting when Chopper and Franky realise it’s you, too. 

“I’m so sorry,” You repeat, taking advantage of the Navy’s shock to talk to your friends for a bit longer.

“Luffy told us everything,” Sanji reassures. “We’re not mad at you. We could never be.” 

You purse your lips in an attempt to stop crying. 

“A severed head?” A yell echoes through the wind, and you look at Franky, who holds one. 

You’re at a loss for words, and you don’t think your heart can take this right now. Rationality takes over your emotions, and panic arises inside you. “You have to go! The Navy’s here!”

“The Navy?” Nami asks. The children are circled around Franky, who tries his best to distract them from the impending danger around them, face wet with tears from seeing you. 

“I’ll catch up,” You say, sniffling. “Go!” 

Chopper squeaks as he cries. “I missed you.” 

Nami, after wiping her cheeks, grabs Chopper and Sanji’s wrists. “She’s right. We should go.” 

You inhale sharply, watching as your friends try and quickly maneuver the kids down the hallway you pointed to. 

“Hey, wait,” Nami squints in Law's direction. “We know him.”

Chopper gasps. “Yeah, we saw him in Sabaody. What’s his name again?” 

Then Nami’s expression turns into one of betrayal. “You didn’t kidnap these kids, did you?” 

You shake your head, upset she’d even think of Law like that. But, then again, the only person who knows him is you. 

“No!” You plead. “This is the first we’ve seen of them.” 

Sanji makes a surprised sound that turns into a growl. “What’s he doing here?”

Everyone’s attention turns to the Vice Admiral, who has moved back onto the snow. 

“Smoker!” Sanji points at him. “And Tashigi! Looking good…”

Law rolls his eyes. “Are you gonna leave before they attack, or not?” 

“We should go,” Chopper whines, tugging Nami’s arm. You look between your crew and the Navy, the tension in the air growing tenfold. 

“Quick!” Sanji shouts. “We can’t get out this way. Go down that hallway!” 

The children start screaming while they run, following the direction Sanji pointed. Nami gives you one last smile before trailing after them, and soon, it’s just you and Law. 

Law takes the stairs down the ice, and the Navy backs up as he does so. You follow close behind. 

Your name falls from Smoker’s lips as a snarl. It seems he’s just noticed you. “You’ve caused us a lotta trouble…” 

Law guards your body with his own. 

“So there are others here!” Tashigi exclaims. 

Law shrugs. “Guess so. It’s a shock for me, too.” 

Without replying, Tashigi draws her sword. “Marines! Track down the Straw Hats!” 

Behind her, there’s a collective yell, the men inching closer. You peek around Law’s bicep, watching them. 

“Wait,” Smoker says sternly. “Back down.” 

But, before you or the Navy can comprehend the situation, Law sticks out his hand. “Room.” 

You gape as a phantom wind pushes the Navy back, the blue dome hardly visible through the thick cloud. “Law…”

He doesn’t hear you. “And Takt.” 

Ice cracks beyond the cloud, and you step beside him. “So, we’re doing this?” 

Law sighs. “They won’t leave…” 

Smoker and Tashigi look behind them, both frozen in place. There’s a large dark silhouette looming over the Marines. You tilt your head in wonder when you realise it’s their battleship. 

“Shit,” You murmur, glancing up at Law to see his eyes closed. “Careful…”

Law swallows, acknowledging your warning. 

“I lied to you for your own good,” He calls to Smoker. “You should’ve listened. And now that you’ve seen the truth… I can’t let you leave.” 

The chatter of the Marines is almost deafening, and you wince. 

“Stay behind me,” Smoker growls to his subordinates. He draws the staff from his back and points it at Law. You narrow your eyes. How dare he wield that at him. 

Beside you, Law reaches for his katana, pulling it from the scabbard. He smirks, his katana blade reflecting the glare of the snow. 

It could be so easy for you to just send Smoker’s soul to Seam, to watch his body go limp, to defeat him. But, since he has a Logia-type Devil Fruit, it’s dangerous for you to do so. 

“Don’t get too close to him,” Law mumbles. “He touches you with that stick of his, and it’s over.” 

“I know,” You sigh, matching Tashigi’s stance. “You, too.” 

The battleship is suspended in the air above you, the hull of the ship to the sky. The ground shakes under your feet. Law changes his position, lowering his arm. 

The Marines behind Smoker and Tashigi yell out, but you pay them no mind. 

“That was the Samurai,” Law mutters. You furrow your eyebrows and look up at him. 

“Who?” 

“The severed head.” 

“Oh,” You frown, regretting not paying closer attention. 

Law’s free hand moves up again; this time, the debris from the battleship flies around, narrowly missing the Marines. 

“Give the ship back,” Smoker deadpans. 

Law smirks. “Eh, fine. But let me make one adjustment.” 

Your lips form a straight line. “Stop playing with them.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” And then he swings his katana upwards, the blade cutting the air. There’s a collective gasp, and then the ship splits into two, and the sound of wood cracking is deafening. 

The two halves of the ship lower slowly, Law moving his finger down slightly to prompt the movement. He stares straight ahead, watching the Marines panic. You watch in awe as a giant iceberg levitates behind it, and Law quickly slashes his sword multiple times to cut the ice. 

The chunks, plus the ship halves and the debris, start falling into the ground, sending the area into more chaos, the screams and shouts echoing far past the laboratory. 

The inside of Room is a mess, like a snow globe just shaken. 

“Let’s go, Admiral!” A voice bounces off the ice.

Law scoffs. “I don’t think so…”

You do nothing but admire the control Law has over the tonnes of wood and ice as they join together like magnets. It reminds you of a game you used to play as a child. 

“Hey! You work for the government too, Bud!” 

“Wait until we tell HQ that you attacked us!”

Law’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, a wry laugh leaving his throat. He flips the katana in his hand, pointing the blade to the ground. “Scan.” 

He drags the blade perpendicular to the ground before propping it back up on his shoulder and closing his outstretched fist. You know the play; he’s done it hundreds of times before. 

A collective thud sounds behind you, and you don’t have to turn to know it’s the Marines’ Baby Transponder Snails. 

There’s a crazed look in Law’s eye that excites you. 

“Warlord or not, you’ve gone too far,” Smoker says, his body turning to smoke around him. And then he takes off, speeding toward Law. Your gasp is smothered by the innate response to protect Law, your body throwing itself before him. 

Law says nothing, knowing you hate when he intervenes. 

“Needles.” 

A large one materialises in your hand, and before Smoker reaches you, you swing it. Law jumps back, his katana out. He presses his back to yours, slashing the smoke that swirls around him. You work in tandem, cutting and slicing the air. You see Smoker’s top half in the sky, speaking to the Marines. It’s your cue to elbow Law. 

He faces them and swings the katana, cutting all of the Marines in half. They all scream, but you don’t take your eyes off of Smoker. He lands in front of you.

“Trafalgar Law!” Tashigi yells, sprinting at him. 

Smoker stands to his full height before you, noticing Tashigi. “Stop! You can’t win!”

She doesn’t let up, positioning her sword beside her head. Tashigi jumps, her blade over her head, and she comes down on Law. 

You take the opportunity to send the Marine’s souls to Seam, and the influx makes you lightheaded. They all slump, the halves of their bodies laying limply on the ice, and you’re grateful for the silence. 

Swords clang, and you turn to see two halves of Tashigi’s sword fly through the air. They have yet to notice their Marines are unresponsive. 

Smoker falters when he sees Tashigi’s torso slip off her hips, her legs remaining stuck in the ice. 

The wind is the only sound; it blows harshly against your face and sneaks its way through your thick coat, chilling you to the bone. You see Law standing there through blurred vision, your eyes watering at the sting of the cold. 

“Why won’t you finish me? Trafalgar!” 

Law clicks his tongue. “Weaklings like you don’t get to decide where you die.” 

The needle in your hand drops to the ground, and then Smoker staggers over to Tashigi, his voice tight and cautious. With the Marines quiet, there’s nothing to be worried about. 

Law stalks toward you, his hat-shrouded gaze darkening when he sees you shivering. Immediately, the wind stops. You inhale as he stands before you. 

“You could’ve done that before,” You say, noticing the wind blowing harder outside the small bubble around you. 

Law shrugs. “We need to get inside and figure out what the hell is going on.” 

You nod, swallowing thickly. “How are they here?” 

“I don't know,” Law whispers, knowing you’re talking about the children. “But I’m gonna kick Caesar’s ass.” 

“Law!” 

The Warlord sighs with something akin to defeat and turns. “What?” 

A cloud of smoke is heading straight for you, but Law quickly slashes it with his katana. 

“You may be a Warlord, but you’re still just a pirate,” Smoker grunts as he dodges Law’s attack. “Just like her.” 

Another needle forms in your grasp, and you jump to the side to avoid Smoker’s staff, the end dangerously close to your shoulder. “Shit.” 

The smoke cloud rises above you. Law is quick to swipe, but Smoker’s quicker. The katana clangs against the metal staff with a sharp zing; Law focuses on keeping the end of the staff away from you. 

Smoker’s hand wielding the staff stays the same, and you don’t realise the rest of his body turning to smoke. He rounds Law, and his other hand tightens around Law’s neck. 

You gasp, stabbing your needle into the space where Smoker’s body should be. 

The Admiral materialises and uses his strength to slam Law’s head into the ice. Law grunts and you aren’t quick enough to react to how fast Smoker raises his staff and slams it into Law’s face.

The impact is loud, but where you expect blood and flesh, there’s only green wood. 

“Sea-prism stone, huh?” 

You spin, seeing Law with his katana ready. Smoker meets him halfway, the metal connecting again. Instead of staying there, the katana keeps going, the momentum too fast to slow, and the mountain of icebergs and battleship Law created before slices in half. 

The Marines below are still in Seam, and you freeze at the realisation—they’re going to get crushed. 

You’re torn but ultimately choose to return their souls to their bodies. The cacophony of noise starts again, and the men flee with terror, confused about where they are. 

They run out of Room, having figured out how to stay safe from Law. A lone Marine runs for Tashigi and picks her up, taking her with him. 

Behind you, Law and Smoker keep fighting. Grunts and snarls combine with the ringing of metal on metal to create a symphony of a duel. 

You watch the Marines leave, doing nothing to stop them—your objective now is to find out why there were children inside the laboratory and how you didn’t know after being here for a month. Where was Caesar hiding them? And for what reason? It sickens you. 

Debris flies in Room; Law’s ability is perfectly altered, so nothing hits you. A harsh call of your name causes you to spin. 

Law stands behind a jagged piece of rock, Smoker’s body leaning over it—the wild look in his eye returning. 

“Scalpel.” 

You run, feet slipping in the snow. With your hands outstretched, threads weave quickly to catch the heart that flies out of Smoker’s back. The Vice Admiral heaves, his body stuck in slow motion as he realises what happened. You know the look all too well. 

You flick your finger to send his heart to Law, who catches it. Smoker falls to his knees, his cigars falling from between his teeth and extinguishing. 

“You can beg,” Law snarls. “But I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.” 

You wince when you round the rock as Smoker grunts and falls face-first into the snow. 

“C’mon.” 

You trail behind Law before catching up to him. He holds Smoker’s heart in his palm. 

“We need to find Caesar,” You say, watching him shove the heart inside his coat. “Creepy bastard.” 

Law’s jaw is set. “I’m gonna kill him.” 

You click your tongue. “You told me I wasn’t allowed to, so you can’t. Not until the plan is done. We need him.” 

“I—”

“Hey! Hello!” 

Your mouth opens slightly. “No…”

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” 

A smile breaks across your face, and you stop. Law keeps walking, only pausing because you do. “Luffy!” 

Law’s eyes widen. “Straw Hat.” 

You laugh; it’s wild and full of joy. “Luffy!”

Your Captain cackles and screams your name. “Hey!”

There’s a collective gasp, and then several heads peek out behind Brownbeard’s back: Robin, Zoro, Usopp, Brook.

You cover your mouth with your hand, the emotions you’ve kept suppressed finally exploding when they all jump down and rush you. 

Robin is the first to slam into you, her arms tight around your shoulders. “Look at you.” 

Tears stream down your cheeks, your cheeks hurting. 

“Hey, it’s my turn,” Zoro grumbles, waving Robin away before his arm circles your neck and pulls you into his shoulder. 

“Yo ho ho ho!” Brook laughs. “Isn’t it nice to see you…” 

Usopp runs into the back of Zoro, his hands clutching the sleeves of your jacket. “You’re here!” 

“I missed you guys,” You laugh. 

“We missed you!” Robin says, giggling behind her hand. 

“Get off her,” Luffy yells. “My turn!” 

Usopp and Zoro are yanked from your body, and you have half a mind to prepare for the impact of Luffy pulling you toward him with his rubber arms. 

“I’m so happy you’re okay!” Luffy exclaims, wrapping his arms around you ten times. 

You choke out a sob. “I’m happy you guys are okay. I’m so sorry I couldn’t meet you at Sabaody.” 

“Don’t worry about it!” Usopp says. “The only thing you missed on Fishman Island was Sanji bleeding out every 10 seconds.” 

You shake your head with disbelief. “Why am I not surprised?”

You all laugh together before you notice the extra legs hanging off Luffy’s lower back. Your mouth opens to ask about it, but Zoro cuts you off. 

“Don’t ask. It’s a long story.” 

You nod and point back at Law. “That’s Law.”

“I know you,” Zoro eyes him suspiciously. “You were at Sabaody.” 

Law doesn’t acknowledge it; his attention is solely on you. He won’t admit it, but his chest is full of warmth—your smile never fails to make him feel this way. 

“Thanks for helping me back at Marineford,” Luffy says, stopping his stride in front of Law. 

Law’s annoyed that Luffy pulled his focus away from you. “Don’t mention it.”

“Nami, Franky, Sanji, and Chopper were here before,” You say. “Did you get separated?” 

Robin furrows her eyebrows. “Here? They’re meant to be on the Sunny.” 

“Idiots…”

“Of course, they are…”

“They’re here?” 

“Hey, over there,” Usopp yells, his arm straight out. You turn, your attention diverted. “There’s a Marine on the ground.” 

You look to where Usopp points. “That’s Smokey.” 

Luffy’s ears perk up. “Smokey?” 

You gasp when you see Tashigi running straight for Law, tears on her face. “Damn you!”

The Marines follow close behind her, their expressions twisted with anger. 

“Really?” Law sighs. “Room.” 

He takes his katana and jabs the air several times, but it’s enough. “Shambles.”

Tashigi stumbles, gripping her chest. The Vice Admiral and his Captain stay down, their bodies limp in the snow. 

“Are they dead?” Zoro asks, his voice low. You shake your head. 

“Luffy, we gotta go!” Usopp screams. “Marines, incoming!” 

“Wait,” Your captain says, glancing at Law. “Traffy—”

“Head to the back of the lab. You’ll see what you’re looking for.”

Luffy nods and makes a sound of confirmation that he understands, and then he looks at you. “You coming with?” 

Your eyes widen, your throat growing tight. “What?”

“Are you coming with us?”

Your crew is silent, the yells of the Marines inching closer with every second. “I–uh, I—”

“Never mind!” Usopp cuts you off; his voice is full of panic. Brownbeard has already taken off with him and the others, leaving you and Luffy alone. “Luffy! Hurry up!” 

“I’ll see you soon,” Luffy says, a smile on his face. 

You don’t return it and nod. “Okay.” 

Law stands in the doorway, eyes tracking Luffy as he enters the fog. You make it up the steps with a frown, noticing the heart in Law’s grip. Smoker’s heart. 

“C’mon,” Law turns, closing the door when you’re safely inside. “You okay?” 

“I think so,” You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. Law knows not to push further, to let you digest your emotions before he asks again. He gives you a sidelong glance when you fall into step beside him, concern swimming in his gaze. 

“What now?” You ask, pulling the ends of the fingers of your gloves. You peel them off and shove them into your pocket. 

“I need to speak to Caesar.” 

— Scene 4 —

“What have you done now, Law?” Caesar snaps. You hover behind Law, eyes darting around the room. 

“Nothing,” Law says nonchalantly. “I took care of it.” 

“Why was the Navy here in the first place?” The scientist asks, eyeing Law suspiciously. 

He shrugs, resting his ankle on his knee as he leans back on the couch. “Distress call, apparently.” 

Caesar’s gaze moves to you. “Are you distressed?” 

Law scoffs, clicking his fingers to divert the scientist’s attention from you to him. “Not from her. But perhaps from one of the tens of children you’ve been keeping here…”

Monet makes a sound from the corner, her wings unfurling slightly. “Watch it.”

Caesar’s eyes widen. “You didn’t tell the Navy, did you?” 

“They saw for themselves.”

“Argh! Get out,” Caesar growls. “I need to figure this out.” 

The door clicks behind you, and you bring the Earpiece Transponder Snail to your ear and adjust it. 

“I should’ve known you’d do this.” 

You wink at Law and press the top of the Snail. A crackling sound comes through the receiver. You planted a Black Transponder Snail under the couch Law was sitting on. 

The call is outgoing, and you concentrate on the voices. One is Caesar, the other, you’ve never heard. It’s deep and jesty, the tone getting harsher with every request Caesar makes. 

The call ends, and you relay it to Law when you walk down the hallway. A room moves with you, Law effectively removing all sound within the dome from the outside. It’s helped you more times than you can count. 

“He says, ‘I can kill them all. The Straw Hats, the G-5 crew, and Firefox Kin’emon. Joker will ensure the losses are officially listed as sea accidents.” 

“Joker, huh?” 

Your eyebrows tug together. “Who is that?” 

“Doflamingo.” 

Men in yellow suits run past you, and you guess they’re on their way to find your crew and the children. 

“What?” Your voice is close to a growl, stopping abruptly. “That’s who I heard… he sounds insane.” 

The voice on the Transponder Snail was bone-chilling. 

Law doesn’t look at you. “You know he is.” 

When Law told you of his childhood a year ago, within the safety of his Room, you didn’t realise just how evil Donquixote Doflamingo was. Law cut open his chest and bared himself to you, his voice raw and eyes glassy. He told you how he met Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi and found his crew. It ended with you in tears and Law’s head in your neck, your fingers working out the tiny tangles in his hair. As he calmed down, you spoke of your childhood—the girl stuck in Seam, your parents, Luffy saving your island, and you joining his crew. The night was a dark one, one you don’t wish to recall that often, but it was vulnerable, your souls intertwining with no way of undoing them. You’ve been attached at the hip since, challenging Bepo’s position as Law’s favourite—he would never tell Bepo, but it’s you. 

“What do we do?” 

“Continue with the plan.”

— Scene 5 —

Continuing with the plan went as you expected. Badly.

The sea prism chains around your body make you dizzy. They rub against your skin, leaving it raw. You curse whoever discovered the stone was harmful to Devil Fruit users. 

Someone is talking, but you can’t hear them, your head too full of cotton to comprehend anything. You know Law lies beside you, and Luffy is on the other side of him. Robin and Franky are to your left, and Smoker and Tashigi sit opposite them. The cell is small, from what you saw when your eyes opened for a moment before you fell back into the abyss. 

With closed eyes, you groan, trying to shift your hip into a different position—being like this is severely uncomfortable. 

“You shouldn’t put your trust in others, Law,” Caesar taunts, and your eyes fly open. It doesn’t make sense he would say that unprovoked unless—

“No,” You gasp, wriggling on the spot, pushing your arms out to try and break the chains. “No! Please!” 

Law turns to you quickly, seeing your panic-stricken expression. His eyes scan your body for any sign of injury, his heart racing at the possibility of you being hurt.

“I see your little assistant has figured it out, shurororo,” Caesar laughs. “If you’re worried about your heart, Vergo’s taking good care of it.” 

Vergo. The name races through your mind; where had you heard that before? 

The man stands behind the scientists on the other side of the wire, his grip around a blue cube holding a heart with an erratic heartbeat. But it can’t be. It should be the heart of the pirate Law stole it from, not his actual heart. 

But your disbelief is punctured when Law screams out in agony, his body writhing. 

“I’m sorry,” You cry, watching Law squeeze his eyes shut. “Please, stop.”

“I know you’re a rather shrewd man, but you never thought to worry about my secretary,” Caesar says, and you can’t bear to look. 

It’s all your fault. “I’m sorry.”

He moans, his body slowly lengthening back to normal. 

“It’s okay,” Law exhales, voice gravelly. “It’s not your fault.”

“Are you okay, Traffy?”

“What’s not her fault?” Robin pipes up, her head tilted. 

You don’t look at her; you focus solely on the man beside you. It's a silent conversation through your eyes, with a painful frown on your face. 

Law glares at you through his lashes; the guilt of giving you the responsibility of his heart in the first place eats at him. “It’s not your fault. I asked you to.”

For someone wrapped in sea prism stone and having his heart in the enemy’s grip, Law is oddly energetic. You eye him suspiciously; indeed, if he did have a plan, he’d have told you… 

You shake your head, not hearing him. 

“Enough domestics,” If looks could kill, Caesar’d be dead. “I thought I’d found a friend in you, Law. I’m disappointed.” 

The captain pauses the heaving of his chest, a smirk gracing his mouth. “So, it was all her, huh? Fine, I can admit that I wasn’t wary of her. That one’s on me. I just didn’t expect someone so smart to work for such a dumbass.” 

Caesar grunts, his fist swinging toward Law’s heart again. 

You shake your head, the adrenaline in your veins heightening as law keens over in pain again. 

“You’re amazing, Traffy,” Luffy says mindlessly. “He has your heart, but you’re still alive. Cool!” 

Smoker scoffs from the corner. “Pathetic… what’d you do with mine?”

Caesar breaks your staring contest with the Admiral, giggling as he raises another blue cube. “You mean this? Shurororo.” 

Smoker makes a disgruntled sound. “You son of a—”

“Uh uh,” The scientist smiles. “Who’s in control right now?”

“Master,” Monet appears behind him, and you jolt against the chains. You bare your teeth at her, pure rage coursing through you at the sight of her. She must’ve searched your unconscious body for Law’s heart since you never parted with it. The thought makes you shiver. “The feed’s ready.” 

A large white sheet dispenses from the ceiling, and a bright visual of outside the laboratory flashes on the screen. There’s a large blue-striped candy positioned in the middle. 

Caesar holds a device in his hand that you assume is connected to a monstrous number of Transponder Snails. “This is Smiley!”

You furrow your eyebrows, seeing a giant magenta slime ball moving feverishly in the snow. 

“He’s a living incarnation of the toxic H2S gas that destroyed this island four years ago!” 

A memory flashes in your mind; you sit in Law’s office on the Polar Tang, looking over photos in a book. 

“Two years ago, when Vegapunk was using the island, the island exploded when one of his scientists threw a fit with his Devil Fruit, rendering it uninhabitable…”

You gasp, using the limited movement of your hand to hit Law’s bicep. He nods, knowing what you’ve just realised. 

“That was the problem with my last test,” Caesar continues. “They were saturated with the deadly gas, but they were still able to evacuate. Boring! Disappointing! So I made a new one!” 

You cringe and look at Robin, whose usually stoic expression is slightly twisted. 

“The candy here boosts his poisonous composition, making him one hundred times more deadly, shurororo!”

“This is bad,” Tashigi mumbles; it’s the first time you’ve heard her speak since you’ve been awake. 

“Now, let the party begin!” 

On the screen, the slimy ball erupts; its face starts melting down, and the bottom of it turns gaseous. Hundreds of people are outside the lab, their bodies like ants on the video feed. 

You watch as the gas swallows them, and when there’s no movement from beyond the purple clouds, you balk. 

“This is crazy,” Smoker mumbles. 

“Everyone out there,” Luffy says. “They’re all going to die.” 

The cage jolts and creaks. Your body sways with the movement. “What’s happening?” 

“Shurororororo. Have fun!”

There’s a crack and metal on metal behind you, and then the cage swings backward. An icy wind hits you, and snow immediately starts pelting the cell. 

“Fucking hell,” Smoker grumbles as the cage starts rising. The swaying isn’t doing you any good, the ground getting further and further away.  

Luffy shivers, his teeth chattering. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“No, you’re not,” Robin says. “Enjoy the ride.” 

You feel the cage rock, but being suspended this high isn’t as scary as the impending gas.

The sudden commotion of cheering has you paying attention to the ground. There are hundreds of Marines surrounding the cage, and Tashigi gasps, throwing herself against the wall of the cell. 

The cage lowers, and the chains holding it creak under its weight. 

“No…” She whimpers, her eyes wide as she looks up. Above you, the purple gas looms. It moves fast and isn’t showing any signs of slowing. 

“I gotta say,” Franky chimes in, making you blink out of your stupor. “They really built this lab as a fortress, huh?”

Robin shrugs a shoulder. “Very true.”

Tashigi makes a sound of indignation. “How are you two so calm right now?”

“Yeah,” Luffy ponders. “How are we getting outta this?”

Law sighs, and your attention falls on him. He definitely has a plan he didn’t tell you about, and you’re secretly seething about it. “I wasn’t expecting Vergo, but no matter. Straw Hat, we’re sticking with the plan.” 

You scoff in surprise. “What plan?” 

Robin and Franky smile smugly beside you, and you suddenly feel like an outsider. 

“Time for the counterattack.” 

Luffy leers, his expression turning to one of mischief.

You shake your head. “So everyone knows about this plan but me?” 

“I didn't know,” Tashigi offers, but you huff with frustration. 

You won’t ask Law here, but the idea that you weren’t included stings. He gives you an apologetic look, but you remain deadpan. 

“We need to speed this up,” Law says. “If anyone can burn things, now would be the time to say it.” 

“Franky can burn things!” Luffy laughs. “He’s got laser beams, too!” 

“Can you set fire to that Navy ship down there?” 

“Huh? You mean half a Navy ship?”

“Whatever,” Law mutters. “Yeah.”

“Sweet. Sit back and be impressed, ladies,” Franky jumps to his feet and leans back. You roll your eyes but do so anyway, the back of your head thumping against the metal. “Fireball!” 

The heat speeds past you, warming you briefly before the cold seeps back in. Marines scream as the Navy ship behind them goes up in flames.

The smoke suffocates your lungs, and you cough, the air burning your throat. The air eventually clears, and Franky is nowhere to be seen. You furrow your eyebrows as you look around the small space. 

“Now, what?” 

Law sighs, standing. The chains around him go slack, clanging sharply to the ground. You blink.

“Are you kidding?”

“What?!”

“How did you do that?” Tashigi asks, her voice light. 

Law looks down at you, his hand rubbing his chest. “Caesar’s Transponder Snails can’t see us, so we only have a few minutes to move.” 

“How’d you get those off?” Luffy gapes. 

“I’ve been here for months. I replaced some chains about two weeks ago. I thought something like this would happen.” 

“And I didn’t know because…?”

He sticks out his hand, his katana materialising before him. “We’ll talk about this later.” 

Scoffing, you look away from him, feeling the sea-prism chains loosen around you. “And you just happened to get the normal one?”

Law tries not to take your bitter tone to heart, but he clenches his jaw and slashes his katana around the cage to cut everyone’s chains. 

Once Luffy’s free, he jumps up, screaming with happiness. You’re not in the mood to do the same. 

“Hey, Traffy!” Luffy yells, prying open the wire of the left wall. “Where do we go?” 

Law clicks his tongue. “We’ll start by—”

“Okay!” Luffy flings himself out of the hole, and you watch him freefall. You go to call after him but figure it's useless when he lands on a railing around the main building. 

“Tch,” Law scoffs, glancing at you. “Quickly.”  

“I’m going to see my Sunny!” Franky exclaims. “See ya!”

The purple cloud isn’t far away, and the sight of it causes anxiety to prickle your insides. It spills over the mountain, and Law uses Shambles to transport you, Smoker, Tashigi, and Robin inside the laboratory. 

Law directs you away from them immediately, tugging you down the hall. 

“This way.”

— Scene 6 —

Law walks beside you, his steps light. You don’t speak but are eager to see where the SAD room has been. 

There is a rattling of footsteps in front of you, and when the men in the yellow suits point their weapons at you, you sigh. Law quickly slices them down using Room, and then you look up. 

A giant door sits in the wall, and Law clears his throat. “This is it.” 

You look behind you. “It was in Building D the whole time?” 

Law says nothing as the doors creak and a siren starts blaring. The doors start sliding open, and the alarms get louder. There’s nobody behind you but the severed torsos of the yellow-suited men, and you follow Law inside when he steps inside. 

“Hm,” Law hums, a smirk on his face. You glance at him and shake your head with disbelief. This is it. This is what you’ve been working toward for almost two years. The realisation makes your heart race. 

“Law…” You exhale, spinning slowly as you take it in. 

The giant SAD tanks loom ominously over you, the bubbling sounds from within them making it all the more unsettling. Now, it’s easy. 

Law draws his katana, the blade reflecting the red lights of the tanks. Anticipation fills the space between you, and you forget why you’re mad at him in the first place. 

You open your mouth to say something, anything to quell the tension between you when a voice echoes through the factory. 

“It feels like I’ve been bitten by my own dog, Law.” 

Law exhales softly and turns, returning his sword to its scabbard while you freeze, the voice familiar. 

“It’s such a shame, Law,” Vergo says. “People like you, so smart, tend to die at a young age.”

You turn, flicking your finger up to summon Sew. A thread weaves around his neck, tightening before Vergo uses armament haki to snap it. 

“It’d be easiest for me to kill you by crushing your heart,” Vergo continues, ignoring your advances. “But that’s no fun. So, I’m going to torment you slowly. Maybe with her—”

Before you can comprehend, he appears in front of Law, slamming his chin up with a bamboo stick. You gasp, staggering away as he continues to hammer Law, pointedly ignoring you. 

It’s been a blur since then. 

The memory makes you falter, a fist knocking you to the floor, your cheek numb. He’s fast. 

Law is across the room, on the verge of passing out. 

“Vergo,” His voice is gravelly, his tone harsh as he says the name. The man watches you heave on the ground, cocking his head and ignoring Law. 

Vergo slinks toward you, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes. “Joker’s been interested in you.”

You clench your jaw tight to stop the shutter that goes through you. Vergo was the one who got Corazon killed. By some cruel twist of fate, this man led to the demise of your lover's best friend.

Law growls from where he lies across the room, slipping in and out of consciousness. 

“You and him have… similar abilities. He wants to meet you.”

“Go to hell,” You wheeze, gritting your teeth. Vergo scoffs a laugh as you cough, a metallic taste flooding your mouth; one of your molars is loose on your tongue, and you realise it just freed itself from when Vergo punched you—you must’ve kept it in place when you set your jaw. 

Law mumbles your name, his hand reaching for you. You spit your tooth out, the molar bouncing on the floor. Vergo walks back over to Law, a familiar blue cube in his hand. 

“Seems you and Law have become close. Joker’s going to have a field day,” Vergo laughs, tightening his grip on Law’s heart. You cry out as Law does. 

“Stop!” You try to yell, your body curling in on itself. The room spins, and you blink away the darkness from your eyes. 

Law grunts, his breathing ragged, and he clutches his chest. “Room.” 

The heart in Vergo’s hand disappears, and when you look at Law, he holds it. You sigh with relief, moving to try and stand. 

But he’s too quick; Vergo rushes Law, kicking him in the stomach, causing him to slam into the railing on the other side of the room. Law coughs, blood dripping from his mouth. The heart flies from the impact, and Vergo catches it. 

“No,” You cry, clawing yourself toward them, your hand flipping slightly to summon Seam.

But as the word slips from your lips, Vergo charges for you, his haki-laced fist punching your cheek. Seam falters; Vergo’s conscience controls his body, but you can feel his soul within you. It’s angry and haughty, the soul struggling against your ability.

“Wha–?”

Law goes flying backwards as Vergo hits him again, his beloved hat knocked off his head and disappearing into the depths of the laboratory. He pants, his hand covering his chest as he reaches his right hand forward. “Counter Shock.” 

Vergo freezes, his body twitches, and smoke erupts from his chest. “I have a message from Joker. He says it’s a shame it had to turn out this way.” 

You scoff weakly, pushing yourself to your feet while Law uses the railing to support himself. There’s blood dripping from Law’s lip, and you doubt you look much better. But as Vergo keeps talking, you register that Law’s attack didn’t work, and from the way his eyes widen, you know he’s realised, too. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Law cuts him off, a tactic he’s used many times. It’s his favourite, you’ve gathered after being with him for two years, to throw off his opponent. “I should’ve known you were his lackey. Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Tch,” Vergo cocks his head, his hand tightening around Law's heart again. “You’re not the only one I’m after.”

You’ll never get used to the screams that escape Law, the sound motivating you to approach Vergo from behind. Silently, a needle takes shape in your fist, and you raise it, aiming for Vergo’s head. 

Around you, the SAD tanks rumble, the red light of the emergency lights casting an eerie hue. Law’s shrieks echo, and just as Vergo lets up the assault on Law’s heart, you swing, changing course at the last moment. 

Sew didn’t work earlier, and it hasn’t worked since, with Vergo using his armament haki to prevent the threads from doing any damage. But this time, instead of hitting him, you jab the needle straight into his back. 

Law moans out with relief, his limbs weak and his body taking the brunt of the pain. He slides down to the floor, hitting it with a thump. 

Vergo pauses, his head turning to glance at you. Your needle protrudes from him, just between his shoulder blades, but he’s not affected. You inhale sharply.

“Really? Now? I’m in the middle of something.” 

You whine with frustration and step back. Vergo approaches you, his nose leaking blood—turns out he is human. 

You breathe heavily, your feet slipping as you stumble backward. 

“I’m right here,” Law calls weakly. “Don’t touch her.” 

Vergo stops his advance and squeezes Law’s heart again. You falter, watching Vergo torment him. 

“Shut up. Lay there and wait until I’m ready for you. I’ve got to deal with her first.” 

“No!” Law pants, voice desperate. “I’m your opponent.” 

Vergo ignores him before vanishing. You try to even out your breathing, to balance yourself, and clear your head. You need to fight. 

“Needles,” You whisper, your head on a swivel. He could be anywhere. You move before he appears, your needle stopping Vergo from hitting you with the bamboo stick. You let out a sound of surprise, jumping back and preparing for his next attack. 

He cocks his head—he wasn’t expecting you to have observation haki. You barely notice the improvement of your haki, arms burning with each meeting of his weapon on yours. It’s fast and tiring, but you channel your ability, using Seam to suppress his soul. 

Vergo growls, his movement getting more erratic with each swing. He ducks, but another needle emerges in your other hand when he does so. You drop the one Vergo is concentrated on and clutch the new one with both hands, swinging it directly into his forehead. You unknowingly infuse it with haki at the last minute and send Vergo flying backward. 

Law laughs weakly, pride evident in the sound. You don’t let it distract you before you vanish. When Vergo’s body slumps slightly, Law sighs. 

You dodge Vergo’s attack as soon as you enter Seam; the man seems to know exactly where you’d be before you arrive. 

Letting out a surprised squeal, you point a needle at his jugular before he moves again.

“I’m in control here,” You pant, a slight grin on your lips. 

Vergo raises an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that, Dreamweaver.” 

You blink at the nickname, speechless. 

“Oh, you don’t know what you are, do you?” He laughs, using your shock as an opportunity to punch you. You swiftly avoid it, your body light inside your mindscape. “Joker has a lot to tell you.”

You scowl, holding a needle like a spear and stabbing him. “Joker’s not telling me shit. When I see him, I’m going to kill him.” 

Vergo scoffs, not bothering to check on the slash on his arm from your needle, the fluff of his white coat poking through the fabric. “I would advise against that. You are worth so much more than… this.” 

“Shut up!” You shout, continuously cutting him down with the little energy you have left—fighting inside Seam always takes a toll on you. Vergo takes the hits. 

“I’m not allowed to kill you,” He says. “Joker’s orders.” 

“If you say that name one more time…”

Vergo turns his head to spit blood. “You could be a god.” 

Shaking your head, your needle pierces his stomach. “Shut up!” 

You watch his soul go limp, hyperventilating as you process what just happened. The blood seeping onto the lush grass pisses you off. You clench your jaw to stop the emotions from overflowing and return to the material world. 

Law cries your name, his body hunched over where he sits. You rush over to him, your hands on his shoulders. 

“You okay?” 

He nods, pointing weakly at Vergo’s body. “He’s not dead.”

“I know,” You say, quickly snatching the blue cube from Vergo’s hand. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Law gulps, taking his heart with a shaky hand. ��Scalpel.”

After he slots his heart back into his chest, wincing as he goes, Law brings you close to him. You wrap your arms around him and shove his face into your neck. 

“We have a lot to talk about when we’re outta here,” You whisper, a tear falling from your eye. 

Law hums. “Is this because I didn’t tell you the plan?” 

Straight to the point.

“Of course it is!” You exclaim, pulling away from him. You wipe another tear that rolls. “If you don’t trust me—”

“—you’re kidding, right?—”

“—I know you, Law. I know you want to protect me, and I know by not telling me the plan, you were protecting me from Vergo’s torture,” You look over at the man. There’s no doubt that if he got his hands on you, he would’ve tortured you for information—you’re Law’s 'assistant', after all. “I know and appreciate it; I appreciate you more than ever. But I can keep my mouth shut; I can be trusted. I’ve been with you for two years and never betrayed your trust like that.”

“It’s not about trust,” Law mumbles, tracing the bruise forming on your arm. “It’s about them.” 

“Who?” You ask, voice dangerous. “You better not be talking about Luffy.”

He bangs his fist softly on the floor. “Vergo. Doflamingo. Everyone from my past that can hurt you. You didn’t sign up for this when we got together.” 

At the sound of Doflamingo, your breath hitches in your throat. Law notices immediately. “What did he say to you? Vergo?” 

“He says Joker has a lot to tell me. He called me Dreamweaver.” 

Law makes a sound of frustration. “Fuck.” 

“You know what that is?” 

“No. But I’ve heard of legends with the same name. There’s no way…” He trails off, seemingly deep in thought.

You shake your head, focusing on the task at hand, trying to wipe the dried blood from the corner of his mouth to gain his attention.

“Anyway, I signed up for everything to do with you when we got together,” You say. “And none of those egotistical assholes scare me.”

“They should,” Law’s eyes peer into yours. “I’m scared of him.” 

“Law…”

“I can’t lose you,” He whispers, voice cracking. “If Doflamingo knows what you are to me, I’m scared of what he’ll do.” 

You reach for his arm, tugging him close again. “I get it.” 

“I know you’re strong, far stronger than me, and you can handle yourself. But I’m a selfish man.”

The only sounds in the factory are those of the tanks. You move to stand, helping Law to his feet. Having his heart back has made Law return to his usual self as you watch him summon his hat and katana back. He sighs when the hat fits smugly back on his head. 

“Ready to destroy this thing?”

“Not so fast.”

You cringe, Law’s hand tight around yours. Vergo stands there when you turn, his coat gone and body purple with armament haki. You freeze at the sight, Law removing his hand from yours to grip his katana, unsheathing it with an unimpressed look on his face—a sure sign that he knows he’ll win. 

Vergo doesn’t speak and speeds towards you, Law’s body poised and ready, like a true fighter. 

“Duck,” He says, and you do, watching in awe and horror as Vergo’s torso separates from his legs. It isn’t until you look up that you realise the room—the mountain—is split in two as well. 

You gape, tears filling your eyes. A devilish smile splits his face, and you return to your full height. 

“You’re incredible,” You murmur, not sparing a glance at Vergo’s mutilated body. Law scoffs, a hand on your hip as you search his grey eyes. 

Distant screams have you looking at the entrance and Law huffs. He casts his gaze over to Vergo, a sadistic gleam in his eye that excites you. “We have to get to Building R. But I’ve something to do before then.” 

— Scene 7 —

You stand against the mast of the Sunny, the celebrations on the ice below doing nothing to bring you out of your foul mood. A missing tooth with bruising and swelling has made you irritable and upset. 

The rest of the mission went smoothly, the only problem being Caesar and the two executives of the Doflamingo family, Baby 5 and Buffalo. Franky was attacked by them before you made it to the beach; their threats of what Doflamingo would do carried away with the wind when everybody else showed up. 

“Keep the ice pack on your jaw!” Chopper demands, lifting your arm back toward your face. You shake the memory from your head, not wanting to worsen your mood. The reindeer wears an uncharacteristic scowl, but under the guise, you see the emotions he hides. He was eager to help you when he saw you again, brushing off Law’s attempts at helping you.

“Sorry,” You mumble, pressing the bag against your face. The icy burn makes you wince, but you keep it there nonetheless. The wind picks up, and you’ve missed the salty air whipping your clothes and hair. 

“I can give you some medicine for the pain, but don’t expect it to do much if you don’t keep it iced,” Chopper says, his authoritative tone fading when he sees the ghost of a smile on your lips. 

Shaking your head, you pat his arm. “Don’t apologise, Chop. It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Bullshit.”

You look up from your friend to see Law. He wears his usual irritated, unamused facade, but his eyes shine with something akin to pride when he looks at you.

Chopper moves to stand in front of you. “She’s recovering.” 

“I can see that,” Law says, remaining where he is. “When can I talk to her?”

“Tomorrow—”

“It’s okay, Chop,” You mumble, stepping around him. He looks down at you in his human form, eyes filled with concern. “It’s just Law.”

“Did you see what he did to those children? They were screaming!”

“I was removing the poison from their bloodstreams.”

“It was terrifying.”

You smile. “He’s harmless, Chopper.”

The reindeer spins, jaw slack and eyes wide. “Harmless?! He cut all those Marines in half!”

“They deserved it,” Law says, his katana sliding off his shoulder. He leans it against the wall beside the door to the study. “Anyway, can I please speak to my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?!” Chopper almost faints. “I gotta go; this is too much for me. You two are crazy.”

As he stumbles away, Chopper shrinks to his usual size. “Food…” 

Law keeps his eyes on you, his gaze wavering to flicker down to the bruise on your cheek. His jaw ticks, and his face morphs into a scowl. “Tch.”

“I’m okay,” You reassure him, stepping forward and taking his hand in your free one. “We just need to get to Dressrosa now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows tug together. “For what?”

“I didn’t plan on you getting captured. You were meant to be with Nami and the others. That’s why there was only one set of normal chains.”

“Oh,” You whisper, looking up at him. “Law, I forgave you for that the second we were out of there. I knew you had a plan, and I was upset that you didn’t tell me, but it worked out.”

Law shakes his head. “I trust you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

A memory flashes through your head, and you bite back a smile. “Stop saying sorry.”

Law seems to understand the reference. He pulls your hand into him, your chest bumping his. “I’ve got something to do before we set off. Want to help?”

It sounds sketchy, but you nod, sending him a grin twinged with excitement. 

—

After the ship sets sail following the Log Pose to Dressrosa, your nerves start to dwindle. Law sits beside you against the wall, snow raining down on you softly. 

You look at him. “Are you sure you want to talk to him?”

He scratches his cheek, sighing harshly. “No, but I have to at some point.”

Humming, you watch your friends dance around the deck, admiring the falling snowflakes. With another weight lifted off your chest, you sigh, content. 

“I didn’t expect to be on this ship again,” You mumble. 

Law gives you a sidelong glance, silently urging you to continue. 

“When we got to Punk Hazard, I wanted to go to Sabaody so badly,” You confess, skin tingling with shame. 

“I know.”

Your head whips toward him. “You did?”

Law nods. “You’re not very subtle, you know.” 

“I’m sorry,” You look at your hands in your lap. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

He tilts his head. “Like what?”

“Like I wanted to leave you because I didn’t. Truly.”

“I know,” He shrugs, voice quiet. “I understand.” 

You squint at him, considering his tone and posture. “Are you okay?”

“I—”

“Hey, Law! The Transponder Snail you asked me to watch is talking!” Robin calls. “And Caesar is chained up in the study.”

“C’mon,” Law rises, his hand outstretched for you to grab ahold of. You take it as a sign he’s not bitter with you—like he never could ever be—and follow him to the study. 

The Snail starts picking up clear dialogue as you sit beside Law, anxiety pouring over you like ice water. You remain locked up in the study; Caesar Clown opposite you with his hands in sea-prism stone cuffs. 

Law leans forward and picks up the receiver. “Colour me surprised. It’s the boss. I didn't think you’d show up in person.”

“Hello, Law. It’s been far too long, hasn’t it? A real shame you didn’t choose to show your face… or that of your assistant.”

The voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I figure you wanna know where Caesar is,” Law says. “He’s safely in our hands.” 

The scientist jolts at the sound of his name. “Joker! Where are you? They got me! Help me, please!”

Law shoots him a glare while you threaten him with a needle pointed at his throat. Caesar gulps and whimpers. 

“Question regarding the state of my cohort’s bodies,” Doflamingo barks. “Where are they?”

Law shrugs. “I couldn’t say. Nor does it particularly interest me. Let’s negotiate.” 

Doflamingo hums down the line, and you pray he’ll take the bait. 

“C’mon, Law, get serious,” He cackles. “Quit pretending like you’re an adult, and let’s cut to the chase. Where are you? Where did you take that girl? Answer quickly, or I may get angry.”

You inhale sharply, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from Caesar. 

“Oh, you’ll get angry?” Law taunts, but his fist turns white as he tightens on the receiver. “And what about your business partner… what’s his name again? Oh! Kaido. King of the Beasts, right? An emperor? If there’s anyone you’d wanna keep from getting angry, I think it’d be him.”

Doflamingo grunts as Law continues. 

“I wonder how he might react after he finds out you can’t produce SMILE anymore. Who knows?”

“Alright,” He snaps. “You’ve carried the joke far enough. What do you want to trade for Caesar? And that girl?”

Law’s face falls, clicking his tongue. “She’s not a part of the deal. Never will be. So get her out of your sick head.”

“Pity,” Doflamingo laughs. “I was hoping to meet her, and—“

“Resign from the Seven Warlords.” 

“Hm?” Doflamingo hums, his tone dangerous now that Law is leading the conversation.

“That’s the deal for Caesar. Resign, and you get him back.”

“C’mon!” Another voice echos down the line. “If Joker quits, he’ll be forced to leave Dressrosa!”

“Yeah, well,” Law says, picking at a small hole in his jeans—he’ll have to get you to fix it for him. “Shit happens, and once you’re a lowly pirate once more, the Navy won’t be able to turn a blind eye to you any longer. You have until tomorrow. If there’s a headline in the morning paper saying that you’ve resigned, I’ll give you a call, and you can have your precious Caesar back. But, if I don’t, my offer is as good as dead.”

He reaches forward and places the receiver back on the snail, and Caesar thrashes in his chains. “What? You’re going to kill me if Joker doesn’t resign?”

“I guess we’ll see tomorrow.” 

“And what of her?” 

Law growls. “Don’t even think of her. She’s a part of no deal and never will be.”

Slamming the receiver down on the snail, who gives a little squeak at his aggression, Law stands. You follow him, leaving the study and Caesar inside. Law blinks quickly when he exits into the sun, and you’re quick to grab ahold of his bicep. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, are you?” Law’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “Fuck, that was—”

“Exhilarating,” You leer, pursing your lips to suppress your grin when he catches the excited look on your face. Sure, Doflamingo scares the shit out of you, but you can’t help the adrenaline that runs rampant through your veins at pissing him off. 

“Yeah, okay.”

You lace your fingers with his to bring him back to you. His mind is miles away, and the simple act of squeezing his hand rids him of the faraway look in his eye. “And now we wait.” 

— Scene 9 —

Salty air swirls around you. The overwhelming scent in the breeze used to make your senses sharper; now, they lull you into relaxation. The sun is harsh, beating down on your skin, but you welcome it, missing the feeling of being on open seas. 

Beams reflect off the deep blue, enticing you to jump in. The urge is irresistible, and you would, if you could, the soul of your Devil Fruit coercing you to dive in, to repent for the sin of eating it. But you hold back, strengthening the grip of your fingers on the railing. 

The horizon is vast, with nothing in sight except for the light blue of the sky and the tantalising indigo of the ocean. You wonder how long it took for the first human to venture out on the seas and if you could have waited as long as they did—the waves too mesmerising to ignore for longer than a single minute. You long to plunge into the icy water, submerge your mind, and just exist. The depths are so close you can taste it.

The steady sway of the Thousand Sunny is enough to bring you to tears, though they don’t fall. You squint at the bow of the ship, the outline of the figurehead and your captain sitting atop it, a familiar sight that sends deep ripples of nostalgia and bliss through your chest. 

Someone joins you, their forearm against yours on the railing. You already know who it is before they speak. 

“Brought you a snack,” He says, offering you a round, plump tangerine. You smirk, watching him spin the fruit in his hand. 

“Nami’s going to kill you.” 

He shrugs, using his thumbs to pierce the top of the tangerine and peel the skin away from the flesh. “Worth it if you get to enjoy it.” 

You turn to face him, watching his expressions with keen interest. Law isn’t a man who believes he wears his heart on his sleeve, but you know better. He’s hiding his true feelings, and with the negotiation with Doflamingo up in the air, you know that his furrowed eyebrows and chapped lips are the outcome of anxiety rather than whatever excuse he would tell you.

Law removes a segment of the fruit, holding it out for you to take. His grey eyes twinkle in the sunlight, and you ponder the true shade of them—you’ve never seen him like this, fully submerged in sunshine. 

You pluck the tangerine slice from his fingertips and bite into it. The juice slides down your fingers, the sweet tang of citrus fresh on your tongue. 

“Silver.”

Law raises an eyebrow slightly, offering you another piece. “Hm?”

“Your eyes are silver,” You say, licking the sticky sweetness from your fingertip. “Not grey.”

Law doesn’t reply; instead, he opens his mouth to accept the segment you press against his lips. Your eyes don’t leave his as he bites into it, juice dripping from his chin. A smile spreads across your cheeks as he wipes it away with the back of his hand, eyeing you with faux annoyance. 

“You think so?”

You nod, using your thumb to dry the corner of his lip. “I know so, and they’re gorgeous.”

He snorts and shakes his head, the tangerine peel clutched in his palm. “Yeah, okay, sweetheart…”

A frown takes over your once joyful expression, and Law sighs, looking to the sky. “Okay, they’re alright.”

You laugh, the sound falling from your lips with such furore that Law inhales sharply at the mere thought of never hearing it again. 

“You’re gorgeous,” He mumbles, clasping his palms around your fingers and keeping them against his chest. “You’re the most precious soul alive.”

You pout; his gaze is intense in the daylight. Your heart swells in your chest; the pressure is almost unbearable. A giddy squeal leaves your mouth, and you jump up and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Who knew Trafalgar D. Water Law could be such a sap.” 

Law's stomach turns as your lips form the letters of his full name. It’s surprising and terrifying, but it’s you. And when you finish saying his real name, he closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how to digest the truth that you’re saying it from a place of love, not malice.

When he cracks an eye open to see your wide grin, his shoulders relax, the tension receding from his body like the ocean at low tide; Law’s glassy, silver eyes search yours, and you lean forward to capture his lips.

He hums in content, tightening his hold around your waist. The affection has been a long time coming, having been on Punk Hazard for a few months, and it’s more rewarding than anything you could dream of. You giggle, Law pinching your side.

“Thanks for bringing me a tangerine,” You whisper, curling your bottom lip into your mouth to taste the remnants of the sweet fruit. 

Law’s eyes flicker down to your mouth. “Always.”

A large bird flies overhead, in his talons, a newspaper. 

“Law,” You swallow thickly, eyes following the creature until the paper drops on the deck. You tug him along quickly, feet slapping against the wood floors as you rush for the main area. 

The grass is plush under your feet when you jump from the third step onto it. In Usopp’s hands is the newspaper, his fingers slightly crushing the thin pages. He holds it out to you, which you take and pass to Law. 

His exhale is shaky as he reads the headline: Donquixote Doflamingo Resigns as Warlord of the Sea. 

“We have to call him!” Luffy exclaims as he bursts from the kitchen. “He resigned!” 

But Law’s already got the ringing Transponder Snail in his hand, the receiver in front of his lips. It rings for a while, and you’re unsure if Doflamingo will answer. 

Click.

“I resigned. Happy now?” 

“Tch,” Law tuts, swerving the phone away from Luffy, who is trying to grab it. “We’re handing Caesar over to you.”

“Well, that was the deal,” Doflamingo growls. “Now, put me onto my business partner. I want to confirm that he’s right where he’s supposed to be.”

Franky pulls Caesar out from the study, the scientist’s face alight with relief. He shuffles over, his shackled hands gripping the receiver when Law shoves it in his direction. “Joker! I’m so sorry! You resigned from the Warlords all because of me!”

Law yanks the receiver away. “He’s fine.”

“Great,” Doflamingo’s voice is slimy, making you grimace. 

“We’ll meet eight hours from now, on the southeast side of Green Bit.”

Usopp, Chopper, and Luffy’s ears perk up at the mention of a new island, their fingers inching to snatch the snail from Law. 

“We’ll leave Caesar there for you at 3pm. Pick him up, and this will be over.”  

A deep, rumbling laugh emerges from the snail. “Don’t say that. I was hoping to meet your girlfriend. I hear she’s got an interesting ability—”

Law grunts and slams the receiver back on the snail’s shell. He runs his tongue over his teeth, breathing heavily. How did Doflamingo find out about his relationship with you? 

“Fuck,” He curses, tugging his hand off his head. You remain still, mind racing. “Fuck.”

The crew is silent. 

“There were no other conditions?” Sanji pipes up. You look at him, confused, your brain swimming with apprehension. You want to pay attention to what Sanji is proposing, but the sick feeling in your stomach overpowers your ability to think straight. Doflamingo knows. 

“Why would there be?” Usopp asks nervously. 

“What if he brings an entire crew with him?”

Usopp and Chopper scream, Nami looking slightly green beside them. 

“That won’t happen,” Law mumbles absentmindedly. “Caesar is a distraction. If he brings more people, that would be better for us.”

“Oh!” Like a lightbulb went off in his head, Usopp stands up straight. “If he brings more people to the tradeoff, then less people will be guarding the SMILE factory?” 

“Exactly. The only problem is, we need to find it.” 

“So, we need a plan,” You finally get a grip on reality, knowing what the word means to the Straw Hats. 

“I was thinking we just wing it!” Luffy laughs, placing his hands on the back of his head. You were expecting this, but from the look on Law’s face, he wasn’t. “Take a trip to Dressrosa, destroy the factory—ooh! Maybe we can swing by Wano when we’re done!”

“No,” Law shakes his head, and you know it’s useless. “We’re going in there blind; we need a plan.”

“Sanji! I’m hungry. What’s on the menu?” 

Law growls, and you giggle lightly when you step up beside him. “I could’ve told you that wouldn't have worked.” 

“Sandwiches.”

“Oooh! I want a cotton candy sandwich!” 

“Just a cup of tea, please.”

“Cola for me!” 

“Where’d you put the booze?” 

“Milk for me!” 

“You guys are boring. Sanji’s sandwiches are the best!”

The rest of the crew follows Luffy up the stairs and into the galley. Law stares in disbelief as they all disappear behind the door. 

“Sorry, but I don’t like bread!” Law yells after them, his expression twisted into one of anguish. You continue to laugh as he gasps at how easily the secret fell from his lips. He glances at you and tuts. “Shut up, you.” 

“I’ll tell Sanji to make rice balls,” You wink before making your way up the stairs and into the galley. Pretending like you aren’t going straight into a death trap is one of your favourite pastimes, and teasing Law is more fun than stewing with anxiety in the darkness of your room. 

Law scrunches his nose, mulling over the thought of stacks of bread before him. 

“Are you just going to leave me here to starve?” 

Law’s usual stoic facade falls back into place as he observes Caesar sitting on the grass. There’s no hesitation when he answers. “Yes.” 

And then he follows your footsteps.

— Scene 10 —

The sight of land after sailing never fails to make your chest warm. Every time you’ve done it, it’s exciting, daunting, frightening, confronting, and unpredictable—and every time, you leave feeling like you’ve achieved something bigger than you could have imagined. Being a Straw Hat pirate is honest work. 

After this morning’s feast of sandwiches, or in Law’s case, rice balls, you formulated a plan. It was shoddy at best because everyone and nobody contributed to the final idea, and while you were used to it, Law was at his wit's end. 

He watches in horror as Luffy jumps off the side of the Sunny, screaming all the way down. You don’t need to check to see that he landed on solid ground; he always does. 

“Luffy!” Usopp scolds over the edge of the ship. “Shut it! We’re in enemy territory.”

Franky is next to disembark, his voice loud as he joins Luffy in discussing what they will do on the island. Usopp is having a meltdown, his anxiety palpable. 

“Straw Hat,” Law calls when his feet land on the island. You’re not far behind, coddling a stressed Usopp. “We can go into town; just don’t take any unnecessary risks. We don’t need—”

“Oh, hey! I just had a great idea,” Luffy exclaims, running over to Nami and Momonosuke. “Let me ride you, dragon!”

Law glares at him with a frown as he runs away. “Tch.”

“I can’t fly!” Momonosuke yells, fear evident in his tone. You ignore the conversation after that, walking over to Law when Usopp has calmed down. Your friends continue their usual antics, egging each other on and arguing about who's more of a man. 

You glance at Law, who has a deep-set scowl etched on his features. “They’re always like this.”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to stand and watch them in silence. Your gaze wanders off to the centre of the island, where there is a singular, giant structure just over the tops of the trees. When you squint to get a better look, you swear there’s a building on top of it. 

“Here.”

The sound of Law’s voice brings you back to the scene before you: Sanji, Kin’emon, and Brook on the ground, injured. You don’t doubt it had something to do with Nami. 

Said woman turns when Law approaches her, and you wonder how he left you alone so quietly—you still haven’t put that bell on him. 

“Take this.”

Nami furrows her eyebrows. “Huh? A Vivire Card?”

“Yeah,” He replies. “It’ll take you to that place, Zou, I mentioned at breakfast. My crew’s there.”

Nami nods, inspecting the piece of paper in her palm. “Uh, okay?”

The breeze is light as you walk to them, and the rest of the crew is crowding around, too. 

“If anything happens to us on Dressrosa, go straight there.” 

Nami goes to ask a question when Law turns and crouches down. You take that as your cue to hand him the map. His fingers brush yours, and you can’t help the heat rising to your cheeks at the mere contact—it’s different when people are around. 

He unfurls Bepo’s map on the ground, pointing to a place at the bottom of the main blob. 

“Kinda sloppy,” Nami mumbles and you purse your lips; you can’t but agree, the familiar paw mark on the bottom right of the paper making you smile. Law ignores her. 

“This is where we are,” Law says, moving his index finger to the middle of the island. “This is where Doflamingo’s palace is.” 

You peer up at the tall mountain in the distance. There. 

“The SMILE factory could be anywhere. So just search for info and don’t raise suspicion.” 

You side-eye Luffy, who gives you a cheesy grin. 

“My team is responsible for handing over Caesar on Green Bit up here,” Law moves his finger upwards to the green blob in the top left. He's talking to you, Usopp, Robin, and Caesar; all of who nod except for Caesar, who winces. 

It isn’t ideal, you being within Doflamingo’s vicinity, but Law knows better than to argue with you about your own safety. So he was at a loss when you insisted you accompany them to Green Bit.

“I think I’ve come down with ‘Can’t Step Foot On Dressrosa’ Disease. It’s terminal.” 

You slap your hand and grip tight on Usopp’s shoulder. He pales, a forced grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “You’ll stick with me, right?”

Beaming, you nod. “Of course. I think I’ve got a similar disease.”

Usopp’s wide eyes close as he cries out. “We’re fucked!”

“As for the Sunny Security Team, be wary of enemy attacks,” Law cuts him off. “You may have to be our decoy.” 

Nami gasps. “No! That’s a thing?”

“That’s okay! We’ve got Sanji to protect us,” Chopper giggles, nudging Brook. You roll your lips inward when the cook is nowhere to be seen. Surprising. 

Chopper screams in fear. “No! You can’t leave us here without protection!” 

“Luffy’s gone, and so are Zoro, Franky, and Kin’emon.” 

Law grunts, tilting his head toward the sky. “Those idiots. This plan is riding on them.”

“Get used to it,” You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Not helping.” 

“You’re not seriously leaving us here on our own,” Nami quips. “How are we going to protect ourselves?”

“Not my problem.”

—

After an argument or two, you, Law, Robin, Usopp, and Caesar leave the Sunny Security Team alone on the Sunny, promising not to take too long. It’s a pain, but it’s the best plan you could devise, considering Doflamingo’s presence on Green Bit. 

You start your journey, first going into the town to purchase disguises, which seems stupid now that you look at Law. 

“Cute,” You comment, mischief swimming in your eye. “Is that because you can’t grow a real one?” 

Law dodges your hand aiming to flick the end of the fake moustache attached to his upper lip. “Quit.” 

Robin comes back with sunglasses and a hat for you; the two pieces are cute at first glance. The sun is bright on Dressrosa, and the summer weather is in full effect, so donning the accessories won’t make you look out of place. 

“How’s this?” Law asks when Robin turns away to pay for your items. You open your mouth to respond, a quip on your tongue before you notice what he’s done.

With raised eyebrows, Law stands there, arms outstretched, his Corazon jacket unzipped, and his abs and tattoos on full display. You roll your lips inwards, suppressing a cheeky smile. 

“Hm?” 

You bob your head, no words forming. The apples of Law’s cheeks redden, and he goes to zip it back up. Robin leaves the vendor, joining back up with Usopp and Caesar, who already have their disguises on. Her sly laughter brings you out of your daze.

“No!” You squeal, lunging to halt his hands. “Well, yes, you’re incredibly sexy like this, but no, don’t cover up. Leave it.” 

Law gives you an unimpressed look, his nose scrunched slightly. “So, good disguise?”

Sighing, you run your hand along his chest, the sparse hairs tickling your fingertips. “Great disguise.”

Law’s eyes flicker down to your mouth, and your chest is tight with anticipation. But then there’s a horn, a high-pitched one and laughter. You jump, glancing over Law’s shoulder to see a clown standing there. 

“Come on, guys!” Usopp yells, waving at you. But you’re focused on the clown. It’s eerily similar to a toy you had as a child, unlike the humans dressed up in costumes on your island. The clown blinks, one eye closing after the other mechanically, and you yelp. 

Law’s hands enclose over your upper arms. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t say anything but blink, hoping your eyes are playing tricks on you. He pulls the sunglasses off his face and mumbles your name. 

You shake your head, and a slight uptilt of your lips have you laughing in disbelief. “I thought that was a toy.” 

Law looks to where you do. “You’re right. Weird.”

“Guys!”

You turn, your gaze on the ground, as you follow the rest of the team to the northeastern side of Dressrosa. 

— Scene 11 —

The bridge is eerily still when you stand at the entrance. There’s signage everywhere, many red with STOP and KEEP OUT printed on them, but the warnings do nothing to quash the interest you have in journeying across. 

Usopp trembles beside you, sweat dripping from his jaw. “Are you sure we need to go across this? Like there’s no other way?”

“Nope.”

He whines, covering his face with his hands. “Why am I on this team?” 

Robin fills the gap between you and Usopp. “I’m excited. The only thing to worry about is the monstrous flesh-eating fish. Think about how big they are; the bridge needs a cage to protect whoever’s on it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Usopp snaps. “I don’t need your morbidity right now.”

Robin shrugs and steps forward, her foot on the first panel of the bridge. “We better hurry, time’s ticking.”

“She’s right,” Law says, ignoring Usopp’s visible breakdown. “Let’s go.”

A hand latches onto your wrist, and you laugh, pulling your friend closer. “Together. Come on.” 

“Your disease seems to be improving,” He mumbles bitterly. Usopp takes a shaky step, the iron creaking under his weight. 

You follow suit, and then everybody is on the unsteady structure. There’s no movement in the surrounding water, and the group silently walks. The overwhelming stink of seaweed and rot is the only thing that abuses your senses. You scrunch your nose and try to focus on quelling the anxiety blooming in your chest. You’ve been walking for a few minutes, the wind howling through the iron bars.

You feel the urge to laugh bubbling in your throat, something to express the utter ridiculousness of walking on an iron bridge and being terrified of fish coming to attack you. The corners of your lips upturn as the laugh starts to escape when Law stops. 

“One’s approaching.”

You spin, the laugh dying on your tongue. “What?”

“Who?” Usopp squeaks, and his grip on your wrist tightens. You pay no mind to the pressure; it keeps your mind from thinking this is fake. 

If Law can detect the fish with his haki, then it’s a lot bigger than you thought. 

“That direction,” Law points to the left, a splash accentuating his statement. 

“There!” Caesar exclaims with his hands pressed to his chest. Your eyes dart to where he’s looking, and low and behold, there’s a giant fin skimming the water. 

The fish disappears under the bridge, and your hands move to squeeze Usopp’s arm.

Something is emerging from the water before you can say ‘go’... It’s unlike anything you imagined: thick, scarred, navy skin, mammoth, twisty horns, and rows of razor-sharp teeth widen before you. You watch as the fish flies above and over the bridge, the underside of its body just metres from your head. 

It continues its path overhead and lands with a splash on the other side of the bridge. 

Usopp is speechless beside you, his jaw slack and eyes bulging from his head. You look around at the group, everyone standing there watching the bubbles surface. 

“We should move,” You whisper, scared that if you speak any louder, the fish may hear you. It isn’t until the fin appears again, and then another, and another, and Law nods. 

“Move! Go!”

Your legs burn like they haven’t in a while, the collective footfalls of the group making the iron panels scrape against one another. 

“Watch out!” 

You veer to the right, a fish ramming its head directly into the iron bars where you just stood. Screaming with surprise and fear, you continue, Usopp a little bit ahead of you. 

The fish’s red eyes follow you, its jaw gnawing on the cage before it slinks back into the water. 

“Special Attack! Exploding Star!” 

Above you, Usopp’s bullets make contact with something, but you don’t dare look up. Sweat runs down the side of your face, and you feel useless. Seam does nothing against beasts like this. 

“Mil Fleurs.” 

You glance back to see Robin’s giant hand punch one of the fish’s heads, and Usopp load another bullet into his slingshot. 

“Skull Bombgrass!”

Law falls into step next to you as an explosion sounds above. The end of the bridge is nowhere in sight, and you feel your heart drop. 

“Are we even gonna make it to Green Bit?” You pant. 

“Usopp should be able to handle it.”

Your friend whips around at his name. “You’re kidding! You’re the Warlord! You do something!” 

Law peers back at the damage already caused and scoffs. “I can’t fight right now.”

“It’s a pack, we can’t fight them!” Robin yells. 

Law swears under his breath and surges forward. Usopp keeps up his attacks, sending bullets of various abilities at the fish. 

“Nose!” Law yells. “Unlock Caesar’s cuffs.” 

“What did you call me?” Usopp growls. “And why would I do that?” 

You answer before Law has the chance. “So he can fly us across the bridge.”

Caesar gasps behind you. “Like hell—”

“I’d reconsider.” You don’t see what Law holds up, but by Caesar’s reaction, you know it’s his heart. 

“You bastard! How’d you get your hands on that?”

Usopp unlocks the restraints, slipping the key back into his pocket. “Hurry up!” 

“You’re all going to die miserable deaths,” Caesar snaps as he turns around. A blue hue covers the bridge in front of you, and you glance back. 

“Law, if you could use that power of yours right now, that’d be great!” Usopp yells, transfixed by Caesar’s power, too. The blue beam coming from him is so large it swallows up four fish at once. 

“I can’t!”

“Well, fuck you then!” 

Law comes to a screeching halt, and you almost run into his back. The memory isn’t lost on you,  but you throw it away when you realise why he stopped. 

“Oh, perfect!” Usopp cries. The bridge drops off into the water, the other side of the iron structure metres from where you stand. There’s no way you could jump across there unless Law uses Shambles, which he won’t. 

“Caesar!” You scream, voice shrill to hurry him up. “Get over here!”

The scientist glares as he flies toward you. “Don’t you start ordering me around!”

You’re scooped up into Caesar’s arms, the wind slapping your skin as he speeds through the iron cage and to the end of the bridge. The wind carries away Usopp’s screams, and Law and Robin remain their usual composed selves. 

“Why didn’t we do this from the start?” Usopp exclaims, his hands grappling for purchase on the allusive gas. 

“Because I’m a hostage, and hostages are meant to be treated humanely!”

—

Green Bit is exactly as you expected: green. Giant flowers, fruits, vines, and mushrooms separate the foliage from the beach, the spectacles enough to stun you into silence. As you take in the sights before you, Robin and Law discuss the abandoned Navy ship to your left, but you don’t look. The flora is magnificent, with mushrooms in colours you’ve never thought possible and vines thicker than the Mangroves on Sabaody; you’re in awe. 

Nobody notices you walking toward the foreign plants, all too absorbed with the ship. Down the beach, there’s a rose, but one that could swallow the Sunny if it wanted to. It draws you to it, and you gladly obey its song, the red of the petals so deep it parallels the deepest blood. 

Sand puffs up behind you as you walk, the boots on your feet long discarded. You haven’t felt your toes in the sand for years; the right occasion never arose for such a thing. The grains burn the soles of your feet, but you take it in your stride. 

A rhino beetle scuttles along the forest's edge, its size much larger than you’ve seen. The sight of it should scare you, but all you can think of is how much Luffy would love it. 

You shed your disguise, the hat and sunglasses dropping to the ground when you reach the stem of the rose. Looking up, it’s taller than the highest building you’ve seen, and the thorns dotting the stem mimic steps that you could easily use. You got to grip onto the slick plant tissue, its fuzzy exterior tickling your palm. 

You hear your name from down the beach, urgency lacing their tone. Tugging your eyebrows together, you look down the coast, a group of people running after you. Fear pricks your skin, and you begin to climb, panic in your veins. 

Quickly, a voice whispers, he’s coming. 

You feel your foot slip as you frantically reach out for another thorn, your body falling backwards. No noise leaves your lips as you free-fall to the sand below. 

“Room.”

And then your feet are back on the sand, the grains uncomfortable. Blinking, you look around. “Law?” 

“What the hell were you doing?” 

You peer over at Robin and Usopp, shock evident on their faces. 

“What happened?” You ask, breathing heavily. 

“You were climbing that tree.”

You glance behind you, the rose still standing tall in the sunlight. “Rose.” 

“Whatever,” Law spits. “Are you okay?”

Still looking at the rose, you sigh. “I heard voices.” 

Usopp laughs nervously, turning around to head back to the bridge. “Okay, that’s my cue to leave.” 

“What were they saying?” Robin asks curiously. 

“He’s coming’.”

Law curses. “Doflamingo is on his way.”

“How’d you get that from that?” Usopp exclaims, eyes moving to the forest warily. “Does the forest speak?”

“Not quite,” Law studies you, and you wait to ask what he’s thinking. “Anyway, we’re dropping Caesar right there in ten minutes.” 

“So that’s it? She wanders off and nearly falls to her death from a giant rose, and we’re meant to act like everything’s fine?” 

“Yep.”

“I’m okay, Usopp. Truly.” Your friend sways on his feet, the lightheadedness of panic and disbelief catching up with him. 

“You two go hide somewhere,” Law regards Usopp and Robin. “Be ready to snipe if the situation calls for it.”

Robin takes off alone, leaving Usopp to complain as he follows. 

Law says your name. “Hide in the tree line. If he attacks, it’s you and me.”

You open your mouth, but the familiar ringing of Transponder Snail pins you in place. Who could possibly be calling at a time like this?

“Take my handcuffs off.” You forgot Caesar was here. The scientist has his head on a swivel, looking unsettled. 

“Shut up,” Law murmurs, fishing a baby Transponder Snail from his jacket. You swallow thickly before raising your eyes to the head of the rose again. 

Who was speaking to you before? How did they know Doflamingo was coming?

“Law! It’s Sanji.”

“Where’d you go? Please tell me you found the factory.” 

“It’s a trap! You gotta go right now!”

Your breath gets lodged in your throat, and your eyes widen. Looking out to the ocean, Dressrosa is in the distance, and you try to understand how this happened. 

“He’s still a Warlord! Right now, you’re handing over Caesar for nothing!” 

Law stills, his body tensing as he follows your line of vision. He eyes a speck flying through the sky, and he squints to decipher what it could be. 

You whimper, your body tingling with panic. “We need to leave. Right now.” 

Caesar breaks into a fit of giggles, and you feel your eye twitch. Expletives fall from Law’s lips before he tells you to run, recognising the pink coat of the man flying toward you. “Go, now!”

The flying figure approaches at an alarming rate, and you race for the trees, only to be pulled backward, your arms thrown behind you. 

There’s a rustling in the trees, but you ignore it, focusing on the tightening of the strings around your wrists. 

“Dreamweaver!” A voice announces. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

You struggle to look at what is restraining you, but from the sharp, cocky voice that echoes down the beach, you already know. Doflamingo hangs in the air; his arms outstretched with a Cheshire grin. 

“Joker!” Caesar yells with excitement. 

“Let go of her,” Law says, his gaze darkening when it lands on Doflamingo. “Now.” 

“And you got a Navy Admiral to show up? I’m impressed,” Doflamingo chuckles. You turn your head at an awkward angle to get a glimpse of the surprise arrival of the Marines, and you can tell Law is seething. “And since I’m no longer a Warlord, I’m shaking in my boots. I’m terrified!” 

“Fuck you,” Law bares his teeth. “You’re a damn liar.” 

You wriggle around on the sand, summoning Needles in an attempt to cut the strings. Tiny prickles cover your hands and forearms in rapid succession, and when Doflamingo opens his mouth to taunt Law again, you free yourself. 

Some Marines to your left are startled at your sudden movement, shocked to be in the presence of two Warlords and a pirate with a 650 million berry bounty. They quickly compose themselves, but the grips on their weapons are tighter than before. 

“Don’t touch me again,” You shout, hands positioned to summon your power if necessary. 

Doflamingo’s stare pins you in your place, and though you can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you know he sports a wild gleam. 

“I’m having some trouble unravelling this situation,” A deep voice says. “I don’t have much experience as a Marine, so I don’t want to make any baseless accusations.” 

You falter, blinking in confusion. The Marines chatter amongst themselves as the Admiral at the head of the bunch finishes speaking. 

“Fujitora!” Doflamingo interjects. “You’re the famous Admiral who got recruited in the World Military Draft, weren’t you? I’ve heard you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

Fujitora brushes him off. “It seems to me, as Warlords, you’re both doing something that steps outside your boundaries. The fellow there referred to you as ‘Joker’... a troubling implication.”

Your steps are silent as you hurry through the sand, nobody paying much attention to you as Domflamingo’s grin turns dangerous. 

“I don’t care what you think about me. As for Law, other here, what will you do about him?”

Law’s eye catches you as you skirt around the back of the Marines’ group, darting his eyes back to Doflamingo so as not to raise suspicion. 

“If you’re referring to his alliance with the pirate Straw Hat, should he confirm this, he’s guilty. But what comes after that depends on his answer… betrayal of the World Government is a serious crime.” 

Caesar makes a strangled noise. “And what of her?” 

Fujitora raises an eyebrow. “I’m unsure I know who you’re referring to.” 

“That girl, the one with the Sew-Sew Fruit.” 

The Navy Admiral mutters your name. “I see. She’s a pirate, too, and with her strong ties to Straw Hat and Trafalgar Law, I see it fit that she should be arrested as well.” 

“That won’t do,” Doflamingo snaps. “She’s coming with me.” 

“Like hell!” Law yells as his calculated facade cracks. “She’s my subordinate.”

“So what will it be, Law?” Fujitora urges, drawing his sword. 

“It’s true! The Straw Hats and I are equal in this alliance!” 

You appear beside Law, the Marines’ looking back and forth to where you were and where you stand now. Doflamingo’s lip curls as he assesses the situation. 

Fujitora leans over, and a purple halo shoots into the sky without warning. You keep your eye on Doflamingo, not risking him moving any closer to you or Law. Caesar gasps, his face stricken with fear. 

The blue sky darkens to deep indigo like the sun has disappeared and night has fallen upon the world early. The tide recedes, and you spare a glance at the water. How odd. 

You ready yourself, feet shifting into a fighting stance and hands poised before you. 

“What is that?” 

Law’s shocked whisper pulls you from your concentration, and you look up. 

“Is that a meteor?” Caesar’s neck is craned back, and you nod. 

“What the—”

Frantic chatter and gasps sound from your left, and the Marines sprint for the tree line. 

“Your title has been revoked, Trafalgar Law.” 

A red hue covers the beach, and Law shoves your shoulder. “Go!”

The blazing rock inches closer, its speed never slowing. You don’t want to follow his demand, ever the stubborn mindset, but the pure fear on Law’s face forces you. 

“Room!” 

It’s quick, and you’re almost into the forest when Law slashes his katana, the monstrous rock splitting in half. One side heads directly for Domflamingo, who swipes his hand. You watch in horror as the rock splits again, this time into ten slices and then twenty. The segments crash into the sand, throwing him off his feet. 

You don’t see where the second half goes, but you guess toward Fujitora by the way the leaves surrounding you go purple. With your gaze on Law, you shout after him, but your voice is lost in the destruction. The aftermath of the impact sends you flying backward, Caesar and the Marines following. You throw your hands out, Sew multiplying at an alarming rate to form a net that catches everyone. 

Coughing through the dust, you emerge from the trees, only to be pulled back by a Marine. Before you is a giant pit that descends into the depths of the earth. It’s an unusual sight, but your heart rate increases exponentially when you think about Law’s whereabouts. 

“Where—”

“Look!”

So you do, and when the smoke clears, you feel your shoulders relax, but only slightly. Law, Doflamingo, and Fujitora stand on their own pillars of rock; the drop below them is endless. 

The men speak amongst themselves on the pillars, and you can’t make out what they’re saying. But, without warning, they all attack at once. Your mouth is dry with fear and apprehension, and you absentmindedly move your tongue to generate saliva. Though, it’s difficult with the dust and sand coating your throat. 

“He’s mine to kill!” Doflamingo cackles, pointing his finger at Law. You scowl and leap from the bushes, your feet sinking into the sand with every step. Law dodges at the last second, and whatever Doflamingo sends his way slices his cheek. Fujitora stands there unmoving, letting them fight.

Law sees your figure running from the trees and escapes from the pit, making his way toward you. “Run.”

Doflamingo follows, and you watch in horror as the pink man flies at you. 

“Law,” He sings, his attention snagged by your sudden attack. You fling a needle in his direction, its sharp tip barely missing his face. “Oh! Dreamweaver’s come out to play, too! How exciting.”

You sprint behind Law, weaving through the giant flora of Green Bit. Law tugs your hand, and you go crashing over a vine. Shambles catches you and keeps you on your toes. A quick zip goes past your ear, and you stagger. 

“Bullet strings,” Law explains, dodging said attack. You swallow thickly, the exhaustion eating at your muscles. “They’ll kill you if you’re not careful.” 

His breathing is ragged as he speaks, and you send a needle behind you, the dark chuckle of Doflamingo letting you know you missed—you won’t dare send him to Seam without knowing the full extent of his power; he’d most likely rip you to shreds. 

“I’ve been keeping a close eye on you, Dreamweaver.”

The nickname is still foreign to your ears. You don’t want to know what it means and why it’s the same as legends past. Law snarls at him, grabbing your wrist and transporting you further away. 

“If you join me, I’ll let your little Law go free, unharmed.” 

His voice gets closer every time Law puts more distance between you and Doflamingo. The offer is enticing only because Law’s safety is the only thing on your mind. As if reading your mind, Law tightens his grip on your wrist. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

There’s no time to dwell on the emotions that rise within you when Law flies forward, his body upside down as he slams into a tree. Almost invisible strings lace over his chest, torso, legs, and arms, and you spin around wildly to face the man responsible. 

Doflamingo slows, his shoes hitting the ground as he stalks toward you.

“No!” Law yells, his voice gruff as he fights against the restraints. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

The King of Dressrosa observes you, his head tilting as he scrutinises you. You stand your ground, protecting Law from the man who ruined his life. 

“Gorgeous thing you are, Dreamweaver… tragic that Law’s been keeping you hidden from me.”

You gulp silently but are unwavering. Doflamingo stops in front of you, his two-metre frame towering. You have to tilt your head back to look him directly in the eyes—though his sunglasses make it difficult to see where he’s looking. 

“Did Law ever tell you what you are?” 

“I don’t know!” Law’s voice is strained, the strings strengthening their hold. “I don’t know why everyone thinks I do!”

“Forget Law, you could’ve been a Warlord. And if you were feeling up to the task, maybe an Emperor.”

The titles he’s throwing at you mean nothing. “Leave us alone.” 

“Love has made you weak!” Doflamingo barks a laugh as he takes a step. He circles you, his gaze piercing. “Who knew that the one I sort was so… pathetic.”

“Fuck you,” You growl, watching him over your shoulder. He makes no move for Law but sighs, his pity palpable. 

“You could be a god.”

Your finger flicks and Doflamingo makes a sound of indignation as a needle pierces his side. “Stop saying that.” 

Turning around, you glower. Law’s expression is painted in surprise at how easily you attacked him, the needle deepening with every movement Doflamingo takes. Blood drips from the wound, and Law gasps. 

“Interesting,” Doflamingo regards the protruding needle, running his finger along its shining body. “Just as I expected.” 

Behind him, needles work to free Law, loosening the strings just enough so he can use shambles to transport to you. 

You ignore Doflamingo’s wondrous tone and continue to impale him. He grunts with each needle that sinks into his flesh, but his smile never lets up. 

“Dreamweaver,” He mutters, arms outstretched and Cheshire grin widening. He looks like a pincushion. “You are the only one who can defeat me.” 

Your power halts. Why would he say that when he’s at your mercy? When you could kill him here and now? Unless you can’t.  

You don’t say anything, knowing he’s toying with you. When you glance at the tree, Law’s gone, so you keep Doflamingo’s focus on you. 

“Come with me now,” He mutters, voice brutally low. “Or I’ll slice Law’s head clean off. I know he’s sneaking around here somewhere, and I won’t hesitate.” 

Your blood freezes in your arteries, and your body feels like it's in slow motion—deep in your soul, you know he’s not lying. He killed his own father and brother, and Trafalgar Law is no exception. 

“Fine. But stay away from Law.” 

“You’re aware of our history then? What’d he tell you about that traitor, Corazon?”

Silently, your hands return to your sides. You inhale deeply, calming your nerves. Law won’t forgive you for this, but you’d do anything to keep him safe. With your glare as sharp as a needle, you put your wrists together before you and shake them. “Take me away, then.”

Doflamingo smirks and cackles, the sharp sound echoing through the trees. Law freezes at the noise, knowing it can't mean anything good. With his heart in his throat, he transports himself to your location.

But when he arrives, Doflamingo is gone, and so are you. 

Taglist:

@fandomhoe101 / @valen-yamyam16 / @chibinasuu / @xsuvs / @curiositycoven64 / @chillerkiller / @loserbee14 / @theloserqueen / @meritxellao / @mirtiell / @dreamistsblog / @notbleachtea / @doxxypoxxy / @hellavadog / @disgruntled-tortoiseshell / @anitaanita / @bi-narystars / @milkteeboba / @starlightaurorab / @newdruid / @tumdlrnewb84 / @alicee-carter / @slep-s / @zzzzzoey / @itsmekalou / @lone-ray

i think this is everyone! if i've missed you or you want to be tagged in the final part, please let me know!!

[spicymambaae]

The story is a continuation of Karina Moans II

----

Giselle stepped into their dorm, the cool air greeting her as she stepped out of her gym shoes. She was drenched in sweat, her muscles aching pleasantly from the day's workout. With a contented sigh, she made her way to the bathroom, ready to wash away the remnants of her exertion.

She stepped into the shower, the hot water instantly soothing her tired muscles after an intense workout at the gym. As the warm droplets cascaded down her body, her mind, still buzzing from the endorphin rush, inevitably wandered back to Karina and Winter. She couldn’t get the image out of her head—the video she had accidentally seen on Karina's tablet earlier that week.

Her thoughts drifted to the explicit video, the sounds of Karina's moans and gasps echoing in her mind. She recalled the sight of Winter, strap-on harness snugly fitted around her hips, dominating Karina with confident thrusts. Giselle's breath quickened as she pictured Karina's breasts jiggling with each thrust, her erect nipples begging for attention. The contrast of Winter's strong, purposeful motions and Karina's yielding, pleasure-filled responses sent a jolt through Giselle's body.

As she lathered her hair, her hands moved sensually over her own breasts, her fingers gently pinching her erect nipples. Her mind replayed the scene of Winter's tongue swirling and sucking on Karina’s breasts. Giselle's own breath quickened as she fantasized about being the recipient of such passionate oral devotion.

Her hands slowly traveled downward, her fingers gently brushing against her flat stomach and dangerously close to her core. She remembered the way Winter's fingers had danced up and down Karina's slit, making her shudder with anticipation. Giselle's thighs clenched involuntarily as she contemplated touching herself, her fingers itching to explore her own sensitive folds.

But suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over her, dousing the flames of desire that had threatened to consume her. "What am I doing?" she thought, her heart pounding. "They're my group members and my friends. This is so wrong. I shouldn't be fantasizing about them like this." She repeated the mantra to herself, trying to extinguish the fire that had ignited within her. “They’re my friends… they’re my friends… AND THEY ARE FUCKING EACH OTHER!?”

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Giselle turned off the shower, stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel. She stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying her hair, her mind in turmoil. The image of Karina and Winter, locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies intertwined, refused to leave her mind. She tried to make sense of it all, her thoughts a jumble of arousal, confusion, and a hint of anger.

“They're my friends and freakin adults”, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. “If they want to fuck each other's brains out, it's their business. I shouldn't let it affect me like this.” She attempted to rationalize their actions, thinking of them as two grown women with healthy sexual appetites. “Horny asses”, she thought with a mix of amusement and frustration “can't even keep their panties on.”

But the fact that they were members of one of the biggest a K-pop groups together added a layer of complexity to the situation. Giselle knew the industry was filled with strict rules and expectations, and the thought of her group members breaking those rules aroused and angered her simultaneously.

“When did this even start?” she wondered. “How long have they been sneaking around behind everyone's backs?” She wanted answers, but a part of her also feared the potential consequences of digging too deep.

As she dressed, her movements were mechanical, her mind still reeling. Giselle's eyes drifted shut as she imagined Winter's tongue teasing Karina's clit, the sounds of their moans and gasps filling the room. She bit her lip, her breath quickening. "Damn it," she muttered, opening her eyes and shaking her head. "Snap out of it, Giselle. This is getting out of hand." She tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing on the upcoming rehearsals and promotions. But the image of Karina's tablet, hidden beneath the pillow, kept flashing in her mind, a constant reminder of the secret she now shared with her group members.

Giselle took a deep breath, she knew that ignoring the situation wasn't an option. The curiosity was eating away at her, and she needed to understand the dynamics between Karina and Winter. Maybe they're just exploring their sexuality, she thought. Maybe it's a one-time thing.

The rationalization brought her a moment of calm, but deep down, she knew that the truth might be more complicated. Giselle felt trapped between her loyalty to her friends and her desire to uncover their secrets. The thought of them together, their moans echoing in her mind, only added fuel to her conflicting emotions.

With a sigh, she ran her hands through her hair, accepting the inevitable. “I can’t believe this; I must be losing my mind.” She began to question her own sanity. “I need to see it again.”

Giselle stood at the threshold of her room. The clashing emotions battled inside her, but her desire to uncover the truth was winning.

She took a step back, leaning against the door frame, her mind racing. “I need to know more”, she thought. “I need to see it with my own eyes again.” The thought of witnessing her friends fucking both excited and scared her, but the pull was too strong to resist.

With a determined stride, Giselle entered her room and made her way to her bed. She knelt down and reached beneath the pillow, her heart pounding. Her fingers closed around the smooth surface of Karina's tablet, and she drew it out.

Holding the device in her hands, Giselle hesitated for a moment. “Am I really going to do this?” she asked herself. “What if they find out?” But the temptation was too great, and she swiped her finger across the screen, unlocking it with the password she had seen Karina enter.

She navigated to the hidden folder, her breath quickening as she recalled the explicit content within. Her thumb hovered over the play button, her heart racing as if she were about to uncover a forbidden treasure.

Giselle closed her eyes for a brief moment, steeling herself for what she was about to witness. Then, with a click, she pressed play.

The scene began with Karina setting the camera on a cabinet, the lens capturing the hotel room and the bed in the center. Karina plunged onto the bed, her legs dangling off the side, her back facing the camera.

As the camera focused on Karina, Giselle's breath caught in her throat. There, walking into the frame, was Winter, clad only in her panties, her perky breasts on full display as she towel-dried her hair. Giselle's eyes widened further, taking in the sight of Winter's toned body and the mischievous grin on her face.

"I can't believe we convinced Giselle to share a room with NingNing," Winter said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. As she slowly walked between Karina's legs, the camera captured the playful seduction unfolding. Karina let out a low laugh and agreed, "Especially knowing there's no bathtub in their room."

At this, Giselle scoffed. "You fucking bitches," she muttered under her breath. "I didn't get the bathtub because you two wanted to fuck?!?!"

Giselle's eyes narrowed, her curiosity battling within her. She watched, transfixed, as Karina made a move to slowly get up, her hands reaching for Winter’s waist. But Winter had other plans. She pushed Karina back down onto the bed and slowly climbed over her body, her movements deliberate and teasing.

"Ya, ya, ya" Karina gasped, her voice breathy as Winter settled comfortably on top of her.

Winter's grin widened as she looked down at Karina, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, come on," she purred, her voice a low, sultry murmur. "You didn't think I'd let you off that easy, did you?"

Karina's hands instinctively rested on Winter's hips, her fingers brushing against her thighs. "And what exactly do you have in mind?" she asked, her voice a mix of playful curiosity and genuine affection.

Winter's fingers traced light, teasing patterns along Karina's breasts, slightly squeezing. "You already forgot what you told me on the plane?" she teased, her eyes locked with Karina's.

Karina's breath caught in her throat, "Why don't you remind me?" she challenged.

Giselle's heart raced as she watched the flirtatious exchange, feeling like a voyeur to a private moment between her friends. She found herself leaning forward, her eyes glued to the screen, eager to hear Winter's response.

And Winter delivered. With a playful grin, she climbed up Karina's body until her clothed pussy was positioned directly over Karina's face. Giselle gasped at the bold move, her eyes widening as Winter slowly lowered herself, sitting on her friend’s face.

Karina didn't hesitate. Giselle heard her moans as her tongue teased the fabric of Winter's panties. Winter pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Do you remember now?" she asked, her voice thick with arousal.

Karina nodded eagerly, her hands reaching up to grasp Winter's waist. Without breaking eye contact, Winter hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them aside, fully exposing herself to Karina's waiting mouth.

Giselle bit her lip, holding her breath as Karina flicked out her tongue to taste Winter. But Winter quickly pulled back, denying her the pleasure. With a firm grip on Karina's chin, she asked again, "I didn’t hear you. Do you remember what you told me?"

Karina's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I remember," she said, "I remember telling you that I want you to cum all over my face and scream my name."

Giselle's breath caught in her throat as she listened to Karina's confession. She couldn’t believe the words coming from her friend’s mouth. She could feel the raw, unfiltered desire radiating from the video, and it sent a jolt of arousal through her own body.

Winter moaned as she lowered herself, feeling Karina's tongue flick against her clit. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, her hips rocking involuntarily. Without warning, Karina sucked Winter's clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it expertly.

Winter cried out, her hands tangling in Karina's hair as she pulled her closer. "Make me cum all over your pretty face," she panted, her body arching towards Karina's eager mouth. “Come on, taste me, baby.”

Karina moaned in response, the vibrations sending shivers through Minjeong's body. "You taste so fucking good," she mumbled between licks and sucks. "I could eat this sweet pussy forever."

The contrast between their public personas and their private lives was staggering, and Giselle found herself intrigued, aroused, and more curious than ever.

Giselle watched in disbelief, her eyes widening as the angle of the video suddenly changed. The scene now unfolded from Winter's point of view, as she held a camera in one hand while riding Karina's face. She couldn’t believe her eyes—the filthiness of her friends knew no bounds.

She felt a throb between her legs as she witnessed Karina's eyes staring directly into the camera, her tongue parting Winter's folds, lapping eagerly at her clit.

"You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my pussy," Winter cooed, "Look at me while you eat me out." Giselle heard the lust in Winter's voice, the command laced with need.

Winter held Karina's head gently, guiding her movements. She started rocking her hips, gliding her wetness over Karina's mouth, the camera capturing the lewd sight of Karina's tongue flicking and teasing her clit.

"Look at me," Winter insisted, her hips moving in a slow, sensual grind. "Watch me as you make me cum." Karina obediently locked her gaze with Winter’s as she continued to pleasure her.

Giselle could hear the lewd, wet sounds of Karina sucking on Winter's pussy, the slurping noises filling her ears. The sight of Karina's tongue probing, delving, and the glistening wetness of Winter's folds was almost too much for Giselle to bear.

Winter moaned, her body convulsing in sheer pleasure. "Yes, baby, don’t stop," she breathed, her hips moving faster, grinding against Karina's mouth with abandon. "Suck my clit," she pleaded.

The camera, still held in Winter's hand, captured the moment in exquisite detail. Giselle watched as Karina swirled her tongue around Winter's engorged clit.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Karina parted her lips and sucked Winter's clit into her mouth, gently tugging and releasing it with a soft pop. Giselle could swear she could feel the suction.

Karina's tongue then ventured lower, nibbling on Winter's puffy pussy lips, her clit twitching and throbbing for attention.

Again, Karina wrapped her lips around Winter's clit, sucking gently while her tongue swirled relentlessly. Giselle could hear the wet sounds of Karina's tongue swirling and lapping at Winter's clit, the camera shaking slightly as Winter struggled to maintain her grip. Karina slowly pulled away, releasing it with another wet pop that made Winter gasp and arch her back.

Winter slightly pulled away, the overwhelming sensation causing her to catch her breath.

The angle of the video switched back to the original view, showing Karina stretching her neck, her tongue darting out to taste Winter once more. "I want more," Karina whined, her hands gripping Winter's thighs. Winter's eyes darkened with lust, her gaze fixed on Karina's eager face. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

Karina nodded eagerly, her heart racing. "Yes," she breathed, her eyes fixed on Winter's glistening pussy. "Please."

Winter slowly lowered herself, her eyes never leaving Karina's. "I'm going to smother you with my pussy, baby," she purred, her voice dripping with promise.

Karina's breath quickened as she felt Winter's weight settle on her face, her nostrils filled with the intoxicating scent of Winter's arousal. She moaned, the vibrations sending shivers through Winter's body.

"One," Winter started counting, her voice strained as she held her position, savoring the sensation of control. "You like being my pussy slut, don't you?" Winter continued, her hips rocking gently. "Being at the mercy of my pussy?"

Karina nodded, her mouth muffled by Winter's soft, swollen pussy. She moaned again, her tongue flicking against Winter's sensitive clit.

"Two," Winter whispered, her hips moving in a slow, sensual grind. "You want more, don't you, baby? You want me to fuck your mouth?" Karina whimpered in response, her body arching slightly, inviting Winter to take control.

Her tongue darted out, lapping at Winter's juices, tasting the sweet nectar that flowed freely. Winter pressed down harder, her pussy covering Karina's mouth and nose, depriving her of oxygen.

"Three," Winter breathed, her hips rocking faster, gliding her wet pussy over Karina’s mouth.

"Four," Winter continued, her breath quickening as the pleasure intensified. "I own your mouth, baby. It's mine to do with as I please." She kept riding Karina's face, her hips moving faster and faster.

Karina moaned in response, her tongue never slowing as she lapped at Winter's pussy.

"Five," Winter counted, her voice strained as the pleasure built. "Fuck, your mouth feels so damn good.”

Winter's body trembled as she relished the sensations, her hips moving faster, fucking Karina's mouth with abandon. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, her hands tangling in Karina's hair. "Keep licking, keep sucking. Make me yours."

Karina whimpered, her tongue never slowing, her hands caressing Winter's ass, urging her on. She tongue-fucked Winter's pussy, feeling the tight walls clench around her tongue. Winter's body started convulsing, her pussy trapped in the vice of Karina's mouth.

With a soft moan, Winter slowly lifted herself, allowing Karina a brief moment to catch her breath and savor the taste of Winter's essence on her tongue. "Good job, baby," Winter cooed, stroking Karina's hair. “You always eat my pussy so good.”

Karina's eyes fluttered open, her face flushed and her lips swollen from the passionate pussy-eating she had bestowed upon Winter.

"Please, don't stop," she begged, her voice hoarse and filled with need. "I need to taste you again, feel you, devour you…make you cum."

Winter smirked, her power over Karina intoxicating. She lowered herself again, her pussy covering Karina's mouth.

"One..." she started counting again, her voice shaking as she felt her own arousal building to a crescendo. "Make me cum, Karina. Put your fucking tongue inside my pussy and drink my juices."

Giselle was so engrossed in the scene, her breath coming in short gasps, that the sudden notification pop-up startled her. She cussed under her breath, frustrated that she never got to see the moment of Winter cumming. Just as she never got to see Karina cumming the last time. Then, she cussed again, realizing how absurd she sounded, getting annoyed about not fulfilling her voyeuristic desires.

"Jesus," she muttered, shaking her head as she tried to assimilate what she had just watched…AGAIN…ON HER OWN WILL. But the notifications kept popping up on the screen, distracting her from her thoughts. It was Winter, sending messages to Karina.

The notifications kept coming, and Giselle's fingers hovered over the screen, unsure what to do. But before she could decide, her phone suddenly started to ring. It was Winter. Giselle's heart stopped, her fingers frozen above the screen, contemplating whether to pick up. “These two are gonna give me have a heart attack.”

Little did she know that Karina and Winter were behind the door all this time, listening to her involuntary moans, smirks on their faces as they knew exactly what Giselle had just watched. They had staged this whole scenario, leaving the tablet for Giselle to find, knowing her curiosity would get the better of her.

---

Winter Moans I Karina Moans I Karina Moans II