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hwaslayer · 5 months ago

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love you in slow motion (psh) | five.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist ♡

—summary: seonghwa will go through hell and back for you, as long as he can continue to see that smile on your face. because to him, that smile feels like a rainbow after the rain, thewarmth of the sun on a winter day. because to him, you’re more than just his bestfriend—you’re love. even though everyone seems to see that except you.

—pairing: park seonghwa x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriends to lovers | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 9k

—chapter warning: cussing/mature language, implied sexual content, lots of overthinking, crying, mentions of death and death anniversary, friends & family being like ?? 😭, flashbacks, mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex — sorry if i missed anything & if it’s all over the place! i tried to edit as much as i can while im away!! but enjoy & ty for being patient with me 🫶🏼 if you need something different, here is part one of yeosang’s fic!

Seonghwa doesn't remember when exactly he fell in love with you.

It might've been when you watched all of his football games growing up.

It might've been when you beat up that one kid because he wouldn't stop bothering Hwa for the answers to the homework and called him out of his name unnecessarily.

It might've been when you'd come to his house and sneak through the back door just so you could lie down on his bedroom floor and listen to new music together until you fell asleep.

It might've been when you first got your license and drove him to the hospital and stayed by his side when his fever didn't go down.

It might've been the trip to Hanoi with his family.

Or, it might've been when you sat with him during his first day in 3rd grade at your school, even though he was a child and didn't really know what love meant. He was surrounded by it, and so he was familiar with it. You gave him the same vibes. It must've been, right?

Of course, he had been in relationships. Those relationships did make him feel like maybe, those feelings for you were a fleeting moment; something that would pass, especially since things hadn't changed between you two. He wasn't gonna force it. He might've believed at some point that it was probably all a lie, that he wasn't meant to be with you in the end.

An idea that was way too good to be true.

But, then those relationships would end and he'd be back to square one. And he'd sit there and reflect on everything, revisiting the idea if he was saved for someone else [you]. Truth be told, he did love his exes. They'll always have a special place in his heart. But along their journey, he always felt like this wasn't his end goal— that this instead was the fleeting moment, that particular something that would pass.

In the end, it was always gonna be you.

"So, what happened with Makayla?" Wooyoung asks as he cleans his table and starts unpacking some new supplies that had just been delivered.

"Nothing." Seonghwa shrugs. "Y/N came that morning, ran off, then Makayla kinda knew. I feel so fucked up about it cause she's so nice and understanding."

♡ FLASHBACK

Seonghwa smiles when Makayla steps into his car, her sweet perfume immediately filling the air. Earlier in the week, he had asked Makayla if she wanted to go to a casual dinner and she instantly replied saying she'd love to. It put a smile on Seonghwa's face, which felt nice after the gloomy and upsetting days he'd been having.

He takes her to a casual ramen restaurant in town; it's small, cozy and intimate. They sit at the bar next to each other, taking the time to get to know each other over some hot, comforting bowls of ramen. He finds that Makayla enjoys a lot of similar things; she's outgoing, likes to go on adventures and explore new places, try new foods, would always be down to try something thrilling like skydiving or zip-lining in a tropical place.

Shit like that.

Seonghwa isn't as adventurous but he'd be down, and he likes that about her. On top of that, she's really sweet and laid back. Seonghwa doesn't feel like he has to try and paint this certain image to impress her. He doesn't; he can be himself for the most part, despite the fact that he's still having to try and keep it cool since it's the first time they're hanging out. Even when they finish their ramen, they sit there for another 30 minutes or so just chatting it up— learning more about likes and dislikes, past relationships, you, even.

"Yeah, so there's me, San, Wooyoung, Hongjoong and Y/N. I met San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong in college, and Y/N—" He pauses a bit as he twirls the straw in his cup. "She's been my bestfriend since the third grade."

"That's sweet. So, you guys are all close and everything? Y/N probably knows you the best, hm?" Makayla chuckles.

"Yeah, she does. I guess. We've been through a lot together." Seonghwa looks at her and nods. Makayla isn't one to press more, but she can tell there's a little more to you and what you mean to Seonghwa. Of course, he's not gonna divulge now. Makayla doesn't expect him to. But there's a pause, a silence that falls between them that says there's more to it than he's letting up.

She'll let it be, though. She can tell you are special to Seonghwa.

"That's nice, though. To have someone by your side after all these years. You two are still going strong. I feel like a lot of friendships crumble, or people just get distant because we grow and become different people over time."

"Mmyeah. I think we are. We're just.." Seonghwa shakes her head. "Yeah, nevermind. We're just in our fighting phase but it's not anything we haven't experienced before." He lies to skip out on details. He's torn between telling Makayla the messy ass truth or keeping it on the low— cause honestly, this was a harmless dinner. Seonghwa didn't expect anything out of this.

Maybe he should've just been honest from the beginning but his head is fucking everywhere right now, and he doesn't wanna think about it.

"I see. I hope things get better."

"Yeah, same." Seonghwa lets out a pathetic chuckle before sipping the last bit of his water and standing. "Anyway, ready to get out of here?"

"Sure. Thanks for dinner." He smiles and takes her hand to lead her out of the restaurant.

"Course. Thanks for joining me." It's a bit of a chilly night tonight, Seonghwa and Makayla can see their breath in the air as they walk back to the car together. Seonghwa truthfully is having a good time with her and he doesn't necessarily wanna part ways so soon. He might take this as a distraction, he might use this as a way to get even closer and have something to build off of— he couldn't really tell you what exactly goes through his head at this next moment. He can't lie that it is a good distraction from the bullshit he's been dealing with, and although he doesn't mean to compare Makayla to you, he can't help but say she's been making him feel way better about himself than you lately.

He hates that it even has to come down to this because at the end of the day, life clearly still revolves around you.

Seonghwa tugs the passenger door open and lets her get settled before he hops into the driver's seat. He tugs on his jacket a bit before starting the car and turning up the heat, pulling out his phone to quickly see if there's any notifications he needs to tend to from the boys [you].

"Any plans for the rest of the night?" She shakes her head.

"Nope, none at all. What about you?"

"None. Should we find something else to do then?"

"I'm down!"

"Anything specific come to mind or.. we can hang out at my spot, if you want? No pressure. I can take you home, too. It's whatever you wanna do." Seonghwa looks at her from the driver's seat.

"No, we can go to your place. I'm fine with that."

"You sure?"

"Mhm." She smiles, giving Seonghwa the green light to start up the car and drive back to his apartment.

When they get back to his place, he grabs a bottle of wine and little snacks before popping on a thriller movie she suggests. He plans to keep it chill for the evening. He doesn't plan for anything specific to happen, he doesn't plan for the night to go a certain way. He lets it be; even when Makayla scoots next to him and cuddles up under his arm. Even when his fingers seem to be tracing circles on her arm, even when he suddenly feels the urge to kiss her.

To feel something.

And so one kiss eventually turns into another, and another deep kiss. Then, it eventually turns into Seonghwa tearing off her clothes and vice versa as they rush to his room and get in his sheets. He quickly rolls on a condom and gets her laid out underneath him. He enjoys this, yes— he's not gonna lie. He's a man and he's got needs, that's why he's indulging in every second of this. He fucks her good, deep into the mattress. Makayla's moaning his name and digging her nails deep into his shoulders, whining right into his ear and begging for more of him.

It's an ego boost, and it's making him feel ten times better about himself.

He makes her cum twice that night, from missionary and from behind. He hopes his neighbors don't complain about the noise— headboard lowkey banging into the wall with his name being called out like a mantra.

He has a good fucking time, though. He doesn't kick her out. He lets her stay the night, handing her a shirt to sleep in to feel more comfortable. He holds her and falls asleep quickly, the morning coming not too long after they had fallen asleep together.

Seonghwa planned to sleep in a 'lil bit that morning since he wasn't needed at work until 10am. In his head, he had planned to wake up at his own liking, prep a small breakfast for him and Makayla before offering to take her home on the way to work.

But, his plan is completely ruined when he hears a loud knock on the front door that also startles Makayla awake.

"Are you expecting someone?" Seonghwa's brow turns up as he ponders for a bit. He isn't expecting any packages and he doesn't remember putting in any maintenance requests. So.. no?

"No." He gets up, but Makayla does too and he feels a bit bad her sleep was ruined. "You don't have to get up, you can stay in bed if you'd like."

"No, it's okay. I should probably get up and get ready." He gives her a small smile before walking out, throwing on a white tank top to cover his indecency and tidying up a bit for whoever the hell is on the other side of the door. Who he expected, he wasn't sure. But he sure as hell wasn't expecting it to be you on the other side this early in the morning.

He swings the door open and he's not sure what to say or do, and it doesn't help that Makayla is brushing past behind him in his shirt to gather some of her things.

"Oh." Is all you say, and Seonghwa feels his heart break to a million pieces when he sees the look on your face. You're trying your hardest not to show how much it hurts you, but he knows you. He knows you well, that's for damn sure.

"Y/N—"

"It's good, I didn't meant to interrupt, I'm sorry— I'll catch you later."

♡ END

"I mean, it's not like you were expecting Y/N to come on that morning. Plus, you didn't necessarily lie or do anything behind anyone's back. You tried." Wooyoung feels a little silly knowing he knew about your plan, but he definitely didn't know Makayla spent the night until now. He took a 'harmless dinner' for what it really was; not Seonghwa taking her back home for good times and good vibes in the sheets. Or else, he probably would've prevented you from going on that morning and lied about Hwa's shift time to keep everything as smooth as possible. But, it doesn't make any sense when Wooyoung really thinks about it. Because even if he did tell you Hwa had an early shift and that it'd be better to see him later, would that help fix anything? Which exactly is the lesser evil?

For Wooyoung, he thinks it just had to unfold the way it did, unfortunately.

"Mm. Yeah." Is all Seonghwa says before finishing up wrapping some KT tape on his client. "Makayla was cool, though."

"Took her out and took her home, ey." His client chimes in, making Seonghwa shake his head.

"Thought I'd move on." Seonghwa shrugs.

"Clearly not." Wooyoung snorts, tossing in some fun to brighten the mood. "No, but, honestly. I think it had to happen this way? Instead of it getting too deep with Makayla and Y/N comes back around? Less mess."

"Less mess is always nice." His client chimes in again. "So, what are you gonna do? Does Tyson know about the whole thing with his cousin?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. He hasn't mentioned anything. If he asked, I'd be honest about it." Seonghwa shrugs. He wasn't entirely hiding anything and he likes to think he tried to go about this as normally as possible. It wasn't like he was out to intentionally hurt Makayla. He could never. He just didn't expect things to play out the way that it did, and he could never lie either.

"Well. What're you gonna do now?"

"Somehow talk to Y/N."

"You haven't heard from her since then, huh? Well, I guess since the club." Wooyoung corrects himself.

"Nope. I have not." Seonghwa's bottom lip pokes out into a pout before patting his client on the shoulder to signal that he was finished with the KT tape.

"Damn, Hwa." Is all his client says before walking out of the room, making both Seonghwa and Wooyoung chuckle.

"I really wanted her to take the lead on this one."

"Technically, she did. It just happened to be at the wrong time." Wooyoung shrugs. "Give her a little bit of time before you reach out again. She probably feels really defeated after that. And don't get me wrong, I love you both and the situation is unfair for both ends. But I think right now you two just need the space."

"Yeah. I'm not gonna force anything right now. I just hope she's able to talk to me before jumping to more conclusions."

"Mhm."

"Have you been able to talk to her recently?" Seonghwa fully turns to Wooyoung.

"Yeah, but she's not really saying anything about it. I think Sannie—"

"Sannie.. what?"

"She called Sannie after the whole thing and cried to him about it."

"Oh." His heart breaks hearing that you've cried over him yet again. Maybe Wooyoung was right— maybe you both needed this space after all.

♡ FLASHBACK

"San? Sannie?" You repeatedly call his name over the phone and San is confused. He has just woken up, but he's immediately alert when he hears you crying, your voice trembling on the other line.

"Hey Y/N?" He says in a questioning tone as he sits up in bed and rubs at his eyes. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I'm so fucking stupid." You quickly start your car and reverse out of the spot to drive off.

"Don't say that, what's going on? Talk to me."

"I just tried to talk to Seonghwa about everything. I was gonna tell him everything, I was gonna be honest. Sannie, I was gonna be honest—"

"Slow down, where are you?"

"I'm going home." You cry and San starts to get up and get ready.

"I'll meet you there and we can talk more, okay? Just please get home safely and I'll be there." You nod even though San can't see you, trying as best as possible to race home in a safe manner. All you wanna do is crawl into bed and cry everything out so you can put on a brave face for work later.

When you get home, you immediately toss your pajamas back on and curl up on the couch. You put on a random movie for background noise, picking up your phone to see the missed calls and texts from Seonghwa.

[seonghwa]: y/n where are you?

[seonghwa]: can we talk, please?

[seonghwa]: just text me back or call me.

[seonghwa]: y/n please talk to me.

You let out a sigh and set the phone aside, not knowing how to respond to him right now. Your thoughts are all over the place, and you're regretting everything that's happened between you and Seonghwa recently. You were too late and this was the price of your actions, reactions, everything.

This is exactly what you were afraid of— losing Seonghwa, even as your bestfriend, for good. Because now, things seem irreparable. Your relationship won't feel the same and it's truly awful.

"It's me, San." You suddenly hear at the door before he lightly jiggles the doorknob. "I'm coming in, okay?" You don't say anything and he proceeds, eyes instantly landing on your form on the couch. "What happened?" San positions himself on the middle of the couch, looking down at you with sympathy. He really does hate seeing you cry— he's hated it since he's known you and grown close to you.

"It's too late. I'm too late. I'm so stupid." You cry, explaining to San about how you finally gained the courage to talk to Seonghwa. You tell San you woke up early and tried to put yourself in a good mindset in order to work through things properly. You tell him about how you got yourself there, ran up the steps and knocked on his door without turning back. You explain the look on Hwa's face, you explain how surprised he was to see you.

You explain how you ran off when you saw her in his shirt.

You explain how your heart dropped, you explain how awful the feeling was hearing him call after you, seeing his texts and missed calls.

"But, he was calling after you. He wants to talk to you Y/N."

"No. I ruined it. He's probably just gonna explain how he needed to move on and tell me shit that's gonna hurt like hell."

"Why don't you hear him out, hm? It could be entirely different, and he might wanna work this out with you."

"We kissed at the club. So after all of this— the kiss, the argument after the fight with Mingi, today—I don't think Seonghwa and I will ever be the same again. I fucked it up." You ramble on and San's slightly having a hard time keeping up cause he's stuck on the fact that you just told him you and Hwa kissed. It's not like he's entirely surprised, it just makes sense as to why things feel too fucking complicated.

He sees why now. But truthfully, as both your friend and Seonghwa's, it's not his place to say anything. The best advice he has is to just let it play out how it should. You'll get your time to talk to Seonghwa. Whatever unfolds from there is what will unfold.

"Hey, don't say that. Please don't." San says softly. "I know everything feels messed up and all over the place right now, but I know Seonghwa wants to fix things just as badly as you do. You're his bestfriend before anything, he'll never let that happen."

"I don't know what to do."

"Why don't you give yourself more time and space? Talk to Seonghwa when you've had a chance to clear your head and gather your thoughts properly." He gently rubs at your back. "This is the best thing you can do for yourself right now. For you and him, maybe." You dig your head into the pillow and release a sigh, almost finding the need to scream at how frustrating everything is.

But, he's right.

Time.

♡ END

"Heard you two kissed at the club." Wooyoung teases Seonghwa, causing him to toss a roll of gauze at his head.

"Shut up."

"Ow, what? It's cute!" Seonghwa glares at him before letting out a sigh.

"It just seems like everything's against us right now." Seonghwa laughs a bit, but deep down, he isn't sure how he feels. He's sad. He's heartbroken. He's not sure if he wanted the kiss to happen purely because of what you two are now. Because even though he knows it's not the only problem, it is probably the biggest.

"Give it time, yeah? You two will talk it out when things settle and it'll get better no matter what that looks like. I know you mean a lot to Y/N, and she wouldn't just drop 16 years of friendship over a silly little squabble."

"Mm." Seonghwa hums.

"Have you talked to Makayla since then?"

"Yeah, and she still wants to be friends. There weren't any expectations so.." Seonghwa shrugs. "At least she doesn't fucking hate me even though I deserve it"

"Dude, again. You weren't intentionally trying to hurt her. It's just a complicated situation."

"Yeah. Anyway. You're coming to my dad's thing right?"

"Of course, the fuck?" Wooyoung laughs. "This weekend, right?"

"Yup."

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"I wonder if Y/N is still coming."

"She will." Wooyoung gives him a small smile. "I know she will."

The weekend comes quick and Seonghwa is hauling ass from the wee early morning hours to get ready for his dad's retirement party. He's helping fix up the house and the backyard before running to the store to grab more things his mom needs. Though he's not trippin' about being tasked with errands alone, he'd usually have you tag along for company and extra hands. He feels it a lot today, and it's killing him how he can't even do this with you.

He doesn't even know if you're coming, or if you remembered, even if Wooyoung reassured him.

"You're done?" Seonghwa's mom asks, peering over his shoulders as he hauls in grocery bags and a cake.

"Yeup. Why? Don't tell me you need more, ma. I told you—" She playfully pinches him on the arm and furrows his brows while he lets out a low 'ow.'

"Told me what, hm? That's all! I'm not adding to the list! Where's Y/N?"

"What do you even mean?" She crosses her arms.

"You normally do these things with her. Where is she? Is she okay?" He shrugs.

"Sorry, she's busy." She eyes him, taking note of the way he shrinks and avoids eye contact. "Where do you want me to put the groceries and cake? Fridge for now?"

"Mhm. Thank you."

"Where's dad?"

"Showering and getting ready for his special day."

"I probably should do that, too.”

"Y/N is coming, right?"

"Mom, yes." He says in a slightly exasperated tone because he doesn't know the real truth. He honestly just wants to stop talking about you for a second. Just one second. "I'm gonna get ready." He walks off to get ready, sorting through his duffle bag of clothes that he brought over.

His mom likes to tease him, even though deep down, she gets sad when you two fight. It's not even just the fact that you welcomed him so warmly when he was the new kid in town, it was the fact that she has never seen Seonghwa connect with someone so well. You've always pulled the best out of him, and you were always there to make him laugh, to make him happy. Despite all the troubles you've endured, you've always treated them with respect and you've always shown love even if your own life felt like it was lacking of such. This didn't feel like any other fight she's witnessed between you two— call it mother's instinct, but she knew there was way more to it than Seonghwa wants to let on. She just hopes that whatever it is, you two can pull through. She knows you both are stronger than that.

When Seonghwa gets showered and throws on some better clothes fit for the occasion, he helps his mom and dad get the house clean and tidy for the party. His dad had officially retired, and Seonghwa was happy he could finally rest. Enjoy the things he loved doing. Spend more time with his mom. He helps put up the decorations around the house, fixing up the backyard and getting the grill ready for the food. Wooyoung, Hongjoong and San are one of the first to arrive, along with his relatives. They immediately start drinking and enjoying themselves, playing music and grilling meat to start kicking things off as more people trickle in.

Wooyoung briefly offers to take over the grill while Seonghwa heads into the kitchen to pull out more of the fruits and non-alcoholic drinks for his cousins and relatives that don't drink. He's busy setting things aside when his mom's loud scream startles him, his eyes immediately diverting to the source near the front door.

"Y/N's here with Yaya, Soyeon and Charli!" Seonghwa's mom lets out an excited yell when she sees her favorites walk through the door, throwing her arms around you for a big hug. Seonghwa turns from the kitchen, watching as you greet his family members that immediately swarm you at the entry. You happily greet his dad near the living room, giving him a big hug and congratulations for his retirement. It's the first time he'd be speaking to you after everything, let alone seeing you. He tenses up a bit, but he doesn't ignore the excitement he feels seeing your face, your smile. You're in a white denim maxi skirt and a black off-the-shoulder top, and Seonghwa can't help but stare.

"Hey!" Soyeon playfully punches him on the bicep and pulls him out of his thoughts, with Chacha screaming at the top of her lungs right next to her mom. "Chacha, jeez." Yaya laughs when she hugs him first.

"She sure loves her Uncle Hwa."

"Uncle Hwa!" She continues to scream, making Seonghwa laugh and swoop her into his arms. He gives Soyeon a one-armed hug before placing a kiss on Charli's temple.

"Chacha!" He matches her excitement. "Missed you, pea." He turns to Soyeon. "Junseo's at the restaurant?" She nods.

"Yep! Holding it down like always." She laughs. "He wanted to be here, though." She turns to Charli. "Baby, let's go eat first? You can play with Uncle Hwa after." Charli whines but doesn't fight it, making Hwa promise time after time that he'll play with her after she finishes her food. He does, anyway. He'll do anything to keep that smile on her face.

At this time, you finally make your way to the kitchen and Seonghwa isn't sure how to act. You give him a tiny, toothless smile before throwing one arm around him, clearly avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

"Hey." Seonghwa says, hugging you back. "You drove with Soyeon and Yaya?"

"Mhm."

"Should've told me so I could've picked you guys up."

"It's okay, Hwa." You give him another reassuring smile before grabbing a cup to fill up with some of the fruit juice his mom made. "Is everyone else here?"

"Yeah. Outside in the backyard. Food is out there, too."

"Thanks." You say, sipping your cup before walking out to the backyard. Seonghwa lowly groans to himself when he realizes he's being dumb, maybe slightly afraid, to talk about everything that's been happening.

Maybe it isn't the right time, either. But, he hates being this way with you. It feels terrible, and he wants nothing more than to just be okay with you.

"Are you and Y/N okay?"

"Ma, we're fine. I promise."

"Park Seonghwa if I find out that you've done something to her—"

"I didn't do anything!" He almost squeaks when he responds. "What about me, mom? How about 'are you okay, Seonghwa?'"

"I ask you all the time and you always give me the same answer!" She responds in a higher tone, but Seonghwa knows she's teasing just to push his buttons. "You never want me in your business anyway!"

"Whatever." He sighs and shakes his head, walking out to the backyard to hang out with everyone. Everyone old enough to drink [and isn't driving] raises their cups high for a big toast before knocking some soju back. Seonghwa catches up by taking the shot Wooyoung hands him to the neck, making a face at the bitter brand of soju they've decided on.

You've parked yourself in between Hongjoong and San, with Yaya, Soyeon and Charli sitting nearby as they eat their food. You have a plate in hand while you laugh along with San, Hongjoong and Wooyoung poking fun and making faces at Charli nearby. Seonghwa plops onto the empty bench space next to San, sipping on his drink while watching his cousins play in front of everyone. San sees you shift in your position a bit, now paying more attention to Charli, Wooyoung and Hongjoong, while Seonghwa continues to quietly sip on his drink. San isn't gonna lie— he feels a bit awkward since the tension is coming from both ways. But, he brushes it off anyway; trying to keep everything as normal as possible to keep the party running on a smooth note.

"Uncle Hwa." Charli comes in front of him with a huge smile on her face.

"Yes?" He gives her the same smirk, setting his cup down onto the table. "Finished eating?"

"Ya. But, mommy says I can't play yet."

"30 minutes!" Soyeon yells from her seat.

"She's right. You need to let your food settle." He pokes at her tummy and pulls her onto his lap. "Here." He hands her his phone to play on.

"Uncle Hwa." She calls for him again as she watches him pull up her favorite game.

"Mhm?" She puts up her tiny hands near his ear to whisper something so incredibly confidential:

"Are you and Titi Y/N fighting?" He chuckles.

"A bit, but we'll be okay."

"Why?" She pouts at him.

"Just grown up things, Chacha. We'll be okay." He repeats.

"You promise?" She's still whispering and Seonghwa's heart melts when she puts up her pinky for a pinky-promise. "Titi Y/N loves you. Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad." He wraps his pinky around hers. "Promise, okay? Here." He passes her his phone once the game loads.

"Uncle Hwa, I wanna play with your legos." She plays Mario Kart Tour furiously on his phone.

"Which one do you wanna play with?"

"Any." Seonghwa laughs and nods, carrying her as he stands to grab his legos from his stash in his old room.

"Let's go find one, hm?" You watch as Seonghwa carries Charli with ease into the house, remembering the night you two spent with Charli a few weeks ago. Feels pretty distant, and it hits you how sad your situation with Seonghwa is right now. You quickly shake off your thoughts and stand from your seat to throw your trash away and grab another drink, grabbing more trash from the group when they see you making your way inside. You toss the paper plates away, engaging in small talk with Seonghwa's cousins as they pass in and out of the house. You pour yourself another cup, getting slightly startled by Charli zooming out of the house screaming in pure happiness while holding one of Hwa's small lego sets.

"That girl talks in screams." You mutter to yourself. "Oh shit." You look at the small spill to the side of your cup, letting out a sigh when you reach over for a napkin—

"Here." Seonghwa cocks a brow up when he hands you a napkin. "Can always count on you to make a mess, I guess." You roll your eyes at his sarcasm and snatch the napkin out of his hand to wipe up the spill.

"Thanks." Seonghwa continues to stand there, awkwardly watching you clean up the spill. You turn to him once more, furrowing your brows in confusion. "What?"

"We're just not gonna talk about it?"

"We're not doing this right now." You look at him. "Not at your dad's retirement party."

"Then when, Y/N? You're just gonna leave everything like this?"

"I don't know, Seonghwa! I guess so, cause I'm definitely not doing this now." He lets out a hefty sigh before slowly nodding his head.

"Wow, so you're fine with—"

"Stop." Seonghwa licks his lips and purses them together before breaking eye contact first. It's the easiest comeback he has, and he's not sure why he feels so angry, so triggered, right now. It's probably because he wishes you had just talked to him before the party. It's probably because it's been too long and he's not even sure where this leaves you two anymore. It's probably because he misses you and wishes he could just hug you. Call you. Text you. Do everything that he used to. Regardless of the kiss.

"Alright." Seonghwa says, surrendering and waving the white flag. You catch the way his jaw slightly clenches when he tears his eyes away from you and breaks eye contact. It does break your heart, and you hate that this is what you two have become. But, you weren't gonna do this on his dad's special day. Not at his dad's party.

"Excuse me." You grab your cup and Seonghwa steps aside to let you walk out first. He follows suit, shutting the sliding door behind him. Your friends and Soyeon don't fail to catch how bothered you two look even though you try to keep it under wraps, continuing to keep distance even as the afternoon goes on.

While Charli continues to play with the lego set in between playing with Seonghwa's baby cousins, you, your friends, and Seonghwa's relatives engage in more drinking and karaoke. Seonghwa and his mom take a moment to say little speeches over the cake, congratulating his dad for his retirement and for reaching a milestone in his life. You go about the party as normal as possible, keeping the energy and the good vibes alive even though it truly feels the worst not being able to genuinely be happy around the people you love the most.

You knew it was time to talk to Seonghwa soon, and that he was waiting for you to do it. He had been waiting for you, and god knows how disappointed he must have been in you.

Everything just feels so fucked up, and you feel so torn about everything. You wish you could just run away and hide from it all, even though you equally wanted to fix this and figure out where you two lie in all of this.

What about Makayla?

Was he still seeing her like that?

That's probably the one thing you were most afraid of. Seonghwa was your bestfriend. Despite all of this, you should be happy with whatever he chooses. He deserves it. He didn't deserve what you gave him at the club or how you failed to be honest about your feelings. This was all because of you.

As the evening arrives, you and Soyeon plan to leave in the next half hour due to Charli getting restless. As you pack some food to go for the both of you, Seonghwa's mom rushes over to you and puts her hand on your back. She looks at you lovingly like she always has, a soft smile on her face.

"Come here really quickly.” Her hand laces with yours as she shows you to their room. "I was cleaning up the garage the other day and found these photos and videos." She hands you some old photos of you, your dad, and Seonghwa and his dad while out. You flip through them, feeling the tears welling up in your bottom lids.

You missed your dad so, so much.

There were even photos of you and Seonghwa on the playground, photos of you and Seonghwa laughing while on a family trip, photos of you and Seonghwa hanging out in each other's backyards. Photos of you, your dad, Seonghwa and Seonghwa's dad together.

"This, too." His mom slips an old VHS tape into the VCR and you giggle a bit at how long it's been since you've watched something on tape. A huge wave of nostalgia immediately rushes over you as you gently place the photos down and watch the video of you and your dad during the fourth grade trip to the local zoo.

"He truly adored you more than anything. You will always be his little girl." She says and you start crying. Seonghwa's mom leans her head on your shoulder, and you lean onto her; silently enjoying the footage together. All of this was perfect timing, and you knew Seonghwa's mom did it for a reason. Your dad's death anniversary would be coming later in the week and it was everything you needed to find some comfort.

"I miss him."

"I know he misses you, too."

"Thank you." You look at her and give her a toothless smile. "Can I take these pictures?"

"Of course! Want the tapes, too?"

"Is it okay if I keep it here? I don't have a VCR." She laughs a bit and nods.

"Yes, absolutely." She rubs your arm before pulling you into another hug. "I'm glad you came out today."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You and Seonghwa seem to be fighting." She makes a face that makes you laugh. "What happened? What did he do?"

"Nothing. It was me. We just got.. into a disagreement, I guess. It's my fault though, and I just haven't been able to talk to him to apologize."

"You two will be fine."

"I know." You give her another tiny, toothless smile. "I hope." The two of you sit together for a little longer, taking in the rest of the photos before you wrap it up and head back out to the party.

At this point, your friends are taking their leave, with Charli laying on Soyeon as her mom holds her. She hands you the bags of all the food you packed for yourself, Yaya and Soyeon, saying your goodbyes to everyone still around. You save Seonghwa for last, giving him a tiny smile as he pulls you into a full-armed hug. You embrace the hug, pressing your cheek against his chest before he pulls away and looks at you.

"Wait." He says, holding you by the shoulders. "Have you been crying?" He looks deeply into your eyes and takes note of your wet eyelashes. You brush it off and look away, shaking your head as a response.

"No, I haven't." You brush past him to finish saying bye to his parents before rushing out the door to your own family. Seonghwa furrows his brows and looks at his mom, realizing she also has wet lashes and just looked like she finished crying.

"Were you and Y/N crying together?"

"I showed her some photos and videos with her dad that I found in the garage." She shows him the date on her phone and it’s enough for Seonghwa to understand what it means.

"Oh. I see." Is all he says. "Was she okay?"

"I think so. She can always say she's okay even though deep down, she's not." She puts her hand on Seonghwa's arm. "I don't know if it'll ever get easier for her."

"Goodmorning Hwa! Have you heard from Y/N yet? I wanted to ask her something but she hadn't texted me back and her phone is off. I think I might know why, though." Seonghwa lets out a breath and licks his lips before responding.

"I see. I'll check." He says. "I got you."

"Thanks. If you do see her, tell her to call me later when she's up for it."

"I will." And with that, Seonghwa cuts the call. He looks at his watch before devouring the rest of his breakfast, grabbing his bag and heading out the door much earlier than expected. It's a crisp, cold day. Somewhat of a drastic change compared to the days they've been having. Seonghwa can see his breath in the air, and he's regretting the light windbreaker jacket he grabbed as he rushed out the door— hoping it'd get warmer.

But, it doesn't.

He has to be at work in a bit, and he's probably even gonna be late. He's just concerned about you, and even though things still feel weird, awkward— he knows he needs to be here for you. Especially during this time.

And Seonghwa's timing couldn't be any more perfect. Because although today isn't the exact day of your dad's death anniversary, it's in two days and you never know how to prepare. Lately, you've found yourself avoiding the exact day, visiting your dad’s grave a few days earlier to say some words, say your peace. Cry and reminisce. When the day comes, you try to keep yourself busy. You work and you work, and you spend time with Yaya, or Soyeon, or even Seonghwa's family because it's the love you need to surround yourself with. As much as you love them all dearly, they aren't your dad and it never gets easier. It's an unbearable pain you can't even describe. It doesn't go away. It just sits there, leaning onto your already-broken heart and weighing heavily on the surface.

You've been quietly sitting at your dad'd grave, fingers tracing over his picture. You smile whenever you see his bright smile, his eyes holding all the irreplaceable love in the world. You're not even sure how long it's been since you got here, maybe an hour or two. It's cold, but you don't want to leave. You want to spend as much time as you can being here even though it is hard.

You continue to cry and slowly fix the flowers around his grave and other offerings. You set one of the framed pictures of you, Seonghwa, and your dads onto his grave before crying, and crying some more. Suddenly, you feel someone drape a jacket over your shoulders, and with the circumstances, you would've been spooked if it were any other day. But, you feel at ease. You feel comforted. You feel completely fine because everything feels familiar. Your feelings are confirmed when Seonghwa wraps his arm around you and pulls you close.

"It's cold, how long have you been out here for?"

"Awhile."

"You should've called me." Is all he says before there's a brief silence that falls between you two.

"I always think it'll get easier." You mumble as you wipe away at your tears. "When a new year comes, I always feel like it'll be the year I'll finally be able to process this and say my peace to it." You start breaking down again and Seonghwa sits still, silently listening to you cry. "But, it never turns out that way. It just gets harder."

"It's an unbearable pain that doesn't go away. I'm sorry it had to be you, and I wish it didn't turn out this way. I wish it wasn't like this for you." Seonghwa says lowly as he continues to hug you and keep you close. "Your dad is always here, watching over you. And I know he'd be so proud of you for being so strong and overcoming all the adversity that came your way."

"I just miss him, Hwa. I really wish I could hug him again. I'll never forgive myself for taking advantage of all those chances and for being too comfortable."

"Y/N, this is the sort of tragedy that you can't control. It's awful, but you would have never known. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it. You did your best as his daughter, and I know he appreciated every moment until the end. I know he felt your love through everything." You cry onto his shoulder, letting everything that you still have left in you out. Seonghwa continues to hold you close, hand rubbing up and down your arm as his cheek rests on the top of your head.

"You really didn't have to come, pichu."

"And let you do this alone? I don't think so." You shift in your position to look at him. He gently takes a thumb underneath your eyes, wiping away at your tears.

"Can we talk? At my place?"

"Yeah. I'll come as soon as I'm done with work, okay?" You nod and Seonghwa gives you a tiny smile. The two of you sit in silence for a little longer before you're saying your goodbyes and heading your separate ways.

"By the way, Soyeon wanted to ask you something." He dips his head. "Call her when you get home." You nod again. "Drive safely for me." He taps your door frame before shutting it close and heading to his own car. You watch in your mirror, waiting for Seonghwa to step into his car before you drive off and head home.

Getting home, you immediately wash up, get into comfier clothes and call Soyeon to check in with her when you see her texts. You agree to picking up a few extra shifts throughout the week to cover for Jini finally taking some time off for personal reasons. You hang out on the couch, putting on a reality TV show you had already finished— you figured it'd be good for background noise. Filling up the emptiness of your space. You end up taking a long nap, waking up close to dinner by Yaya calling you into the house to share some food with her. It felt nice catching up on sleep, since you weren’t able to get much the night before. You spend most of your early evening with Yaya, helping her clean up around the kitchen before you retreat back to your place and pick up your phone when a text goes off.

[seonghwa]: need anything for dinner?

[you]: no i ate already, ty. just get yourself something!

[seonghwa]: okay. i'll be over in a few mins

You tidy up even more as if it's the first time Seonghwa is coming over. But, you feel nervous all over again. You feel like every inch of your apartment has to be clean in order to prep; overall, it feels like nothing can really prep you for whatever will go down tonight between you and Seonghwa and this is only helping distract you from that thought. You just hope it ends on a good note.

"Sorry it took me a little longer, had hella shit to do for the trainees today." You shrug as you look at him from the couch, wrapped up in your blanket.

"It's okay."

"What'd you do when you got home?"

"Hm, clean. Nap. Eat dinner with Yaya. How was work?" He shrugs.

"Tiring." He plops next to you on the couch. You notice he's drinking a protein shake, with nothing else in hand.

"You didn't get anything to eat?" He shakes his head.

"I'm not really hungry."

"Hm, okay." You hum. "Thanks for still coming over even though you had a long day." He looks at you and gives you a toothless smile.

"Course." You scoot a little closer and he continues to watch you. He watches the cute little frown on your face build— staring at him all doe-eyed and it makes his heart flutter.

"I'm sorry for everything, pichu. I didn't mean to get mad at you that night the fight broke out. I just didn't wanna see you hurt and I'm stupid for not pushing Mingi away. For finding excuses. You shouldn't have to save me every single time and I'm sorry it has been that way over the years." You tilt your head. "I really am sorry, and I didn't mean to make things more complicated especially with the kiss. I probably ruined things with Makayla—"

"We're just friends." He chimes in. "We're just friends and you didn't ruin anything."

"She was at your place? In your clothes?" He nods and chuckles a bit.

"Yeah, cause things escalated for one night. I'm not gonna lie. But, that's really it. She knew.." Seonghwa looks at you and shakes his head. "Nevermind."

"No, tell me. She knew, what?" You place your hand on his and gentle shake it.

"She knew the way I felt about you, especially after that morning."

"Oh."

"I guess she could just tell."

"I'm sorry, Hwa." He clicks his teeth and caresses your cheek.

"Stop saying sorry. Nothing was ruined. Everything's good between us and we're still friends."

"Where does that leave us?"

"You know what I want. What do you want?" You look at him for a moment, really look at him, and he's patiently waiting for your response. His big, brown eyes are holding hope, holding love, holding every bit of affection he has for you— even though he's trying his best to keep it at bay. At this moment, you couldn't even question how Seonghwa felt for you because it's overflowing from his look alone. He really wanted you. He really wanted to give you the world, if you'd let him.

"I'm just scared, Hwa." You say, close to a whisper— bottom lip trembling. He lifts your chin as he scoots closer, keeping you close and warm while his big, brown eyes peer into yours with pure adoration. There's a mix of worry, concern, but he knows better than this. He knows you two are better than this.

"I am too, I have been for a long time. But, please trust me when I tell you that I'm here and that I'll never leave your side no matter what. I'm here, Y/N. I want this, I want you. I have always wanted this."

"Don't lie."

"You know I hate liars." He chuckles a bit.

"I feel the same, Hwa. I do.”

"Yeah? You're with me? Genuinely?" You nod. "I need you to be sure of us, Y/N."

"I'm sure. I'm sorry I ever doubted you or questioned it, but I'm sure." You shed a few more tears while Seonghwa chuckles a bit. "Hey." You whine. "I'm serious!"

"I am, too." He smiles. "Stop crying, you look ugly when you cry." He teases and you smack his arm. "Just come here." He says, pulling you closer and lifting your chin up. "I got you, okay? I got us.”

"Okay."

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" Seonghwa asks, close to a whisper. You quietly nod, watching as he dips forward and closes in for a kiss. It's soft, it's sweet, it's light. It makes your lips tingle, it makes you feel all sorts of butterflies. Before Seonghwa can pull back, you immediately chase after his lips— asking for another, just deeper, more intense. It quickly builds without having to do or say much; Seonghwa's large hand cupping your cheeks right before you straddle his lap, careful not to break the kiss. Your tongues are fighting for dominance, background noise now also being filled with the sound of wet kisses. Small whines and whimpers. Seonghwa's hands fall to your ass, giving it a good squeeze when he feels you slowly rock against his already-hard cock.

"Fuck." He hisses just as you suck onto his bottom lip and tug back on it. "Hold onto me." He demands as he swiftly carries you, letting you wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He drops you onto the bed and continues to kiss you, making his way down to your jaw. Neck.

"Gonna ask again.” He places a kiss on your jaw. “Sure about this? Us? If you want me to stop, I'll stop." You shake your head as Seonghwa continues to plant kisses wherever he can, thumb fiddling with the hem of your shorts.

"Keep going." You reassure him through a quick cheek caress when he stops and stares. "Please. I’m sure."

"Okay." He whispers before dipping in for a final kiss on the lips. The both of you continue to shed off your clothes, tossing them at different points in your studio. "You're still on birth control, right? I'm clean."

"Mhm." You barely respond before you let out a small gasp when Seonghwa's thumb run down your folds, feeling for how wet you are already. He presses at your sensitive nub, biting onto his bottom lip when he sees how you easily respond.

"So wet already." Your mouth waters when Seonghwa finally sheds off his boxers and pumps himself a few times. When Seonghwa tugs the covers up and slightly hovers over your body, he teases you for a few minutes by running his tip up and down your folds. He lets out a small moan before slowly breaching your entrance, sliding in with ease because of how wet you are.

This whole thing feels so raw, feels so new, feels so.. meant to be.

So perfect.

Like fitting in the last piece of a 1000-piece puzzle.

Seonghwa slowly works himself into you to adjust to the feeling, his mouth slacked open against yours at how good, how perfect, you feel. He finds a steady rhythm, your legs cocked open for him as he dives deeper, and deeper— hitting you in all the right spots. Seonghwa thinks the feeling is indescribable. It's the fact that the person he genuinely loves is underneath him, the person he genuinely loves has admitted in feeling the same about him, about this. It's the fact that everything feels so, so right.

It makes everything about this exciting, more pleasurable.

"God, you feel so good—" He groans. "Baby, fuck." The pet name sends shivers down your spine, eliciting a loud moan to slip from your lips. He picks up the pace, fucking into you rougher, faster.

"Seonghwa—" You whine. He sits up, hands splayed out on your thighs to keep them spread open while thrusting into you. He watches as you shut your eyes, back arching in pleasure, teeth biting onto your bottom lip to prevent yourself from moaning too loud. "Mm'close." You mewl as Seonghwa's hips become a little sloppier, his movements rough and hard. You start to move your hips to match his movements, tipping closer and closer over the edge with every move, every moan, every kiss. Suddenly, you still as you let out a loud moan of Seonghwa's name— a huge wave of pleasure, ecstasy, washing over your body. Seonghwa takes the opportunity to chase his high, hips stuttering just as he releases his seed into you shortly afterwards. A strangled, deep moan leaves his lips as he presses wet kisses against your neck, jaw, lips.

"Y/N." He looks at you, brushing the hair away from your face.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

♡ taglist: @hwasbabygirl @fairyofhueningkai @chngbnwf @tinyteezer @everyonewooeverywhere @pearbunny @mxnsxngie @starhwahwa @woosmaid @yeosangsbbg @jycas @lyracarvahall @huachengsbestie01 @laurenwidjaja @taz-97 @asjkdk @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 8 months ago

Text

1968 [Chapter 3: Hermes, God Of Thieves]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 4.5k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji @sunnysideaeggs

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

They say it’s the most dangerous job in Vietnam. That’s why I wanted to do it.

Chinooks transport men and equipment, Cobras are gunships, Jolly Green Giants are used in search-and-rescue missions. But the Loach—Light Observation Helicopter—is a scout. We have to fly low enough to spot fresh footprints in mud, glints of sunlit metal, blooms of firelight from smoldering cigarettes in the primordial maze of the jungle. And when you go looking for the enemy, sometimes that’s exactly who you find. U.S. Army regulations decree that each Loach must be inspected after 300 hours of flight time, but they rarely make it that long. I’ve been shot down twice already. You roll out of the wreckage, grab your buddies, and book it out of the area before the Vietcong kill you, or worse: drag you back to the Hanoi Hilton so you can die slow.

Currently we’re just north of Pleiku, coasting close enough to the treetops that I could reach out and touch them. I’m in the back seat with my M16, no door between me and the outside world, my hair tied back with a green bandana, the wind hot and sticky. It’s so fucking humid here. Why can’t the communists be trying to take over Malta or Sweden or Monterey Bay, California?

It was the old men who suggested I might be of greatest service to the family by enlisting. I was 25, newly graduated from Columbia Law—a family tradition—and dreading the desk job that awaited me at the Department of Justice. Some people are born to type their lives away in some leather-upholstered office with a view of Pennsylvania Avenue, but not me, and I know this like I know the sun or the stars, ancient truths that can never be changed. And so when Otto and Viserys sat me down—my father had only had one stroke by that point, and was still relatively involved in the day-to-day minutia of putting a Targaryen in the White House—and said Aemond having a brother in Vietnam would make him more relatable, more sympathetic, more noble, not an observer to the carnage of the war but a fellow victim of it…I told them I’d go.

Everyone needs a project. If you don’t have something to distract you from the futility of human existence, it’ll break you in half. I have the Loach. Otto and Viserys, both immigrants ineligible to serve as president of the United States, have their shared ambition of getting their bloodlines in the Oval Office. Aemond has his legacy. My mother has her children, and Criston has my mother. Helaena has her gardens, her bugs, quiet gentle things that she tends with her own thorn-pricked hands. Aegon doesn’t have a project, he never really has, and it’s driven him to the cliff’s edge of insanity. See what I mean?

Anyway, let me tell you something about Vietnam. The Army gives us all the steak, beer, and cigarettes we can handle, but I’d kill for a lemon-lime Mr. Misty—

“Daeron, get down!” the guy to my left screams over the noise of the rotors. His name is Richie Swindell, and he’s from Omaha, Nebraska, and now he’s plummeting out of the helicopter as bullets riddle his chest. I duck low and cover my head as we spiral sideways into the trees, snapping branches, shredding leaves like confetti. I can hear the pilot yelling something, but I can’t tell what. When we hit the earth, the lightweight aluminum skin of the Loach does exactly what it’s supposed to, crumpling to absorb the shock of the collision and reduce trauma to us mortals inside. I scramble out of the rubble on my hands and knees and go to check on the pilot, but it’s too late. He’s already being hauled out by the Vietcong and gets a bullet to the brain. I reach back into the ruins of the Loach to grab my M16, but there are hands around my ankles yanking me out. And now I’m next, and there’s nowhere left to run, and I’m hoping Criston will be there to hold my mother when she gets the Western Union telegram.

One of the soldiers shouts and stops the others, shoving them aside to get a better look at me. With the barrel of his AK-47, supplied by either China or the Russians, he prods at the patch displaying my last name: Targaryen. His compatriots don’t seem impressed. Again, he batters my nametag, speaking to them in Vietnamese.

He knows who I am, I realize. He knows Aemond is running for president.

Now there is a hell of a lot of excitement. The men are talking rapidly amongst themselves, marveling at me, poking and examining me. Then two of them grab me by the arms. I look to the soldier who knows English, at least enough of it to read those nine fated letters. He smiles at me, not like a friend. Like a wolf baring its teeth.

He says: “It is okay, Targaryen boy. We just have some questions for you.”

Guess I’ll be checking into the Hanoi Hilton after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to Aegon strumming an acoustic guitar and singing Johnny Cash. The guitar must be new. The one he left at Asteria is plain maple wood and covered in stickers; this unfamiliar instrument is a vivid, Caribbean blue and has Gibson written across the headstock.

“I hear the train a-comin’, it’s rolling ‘round the bend

And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when

I’m stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin’ on…”

“Let me die. I’m ready to go.”

Aegon laughs, setting his new guitar aside.

“Is Ari okay?”

“Yeah, he’s doing great. And I got the stuff you asked for.”

Sure enough, there are three roomy sundresses hanging from the coatrack—you wanted to have options in case you had trouble finding one that fit correctly, though you gave Aegon a general neighborhood for sizes—as well as an array of cosmetics on the nightstand, including a bottle of shimmering champagne-colored nail polish. “I’m really impressed. You barely forgot anything. Though I will look odd with blush but no foundation.”

“Ohhhhh. Fuck.”

“And this isn’t human shampoo. It’s for dogs. That’s why it has a mastiff on the label.”

“I thought it looked like you,” Aegon says, smirking mischievously.

“Well, thanks for trying.”

“And I found this at the gift shop.” He tosses a card at you like a frisbee. You open the envelope to see a cartoon cow on the front, black and white and wearing a huge copper bell and a party hat. Inside is printed: May your graduation be legenDAIRY! Aegon has crossed it out and written instead I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf! followed by his illegible scribble of a signature.

“A cow,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “Because I’m Io.”

“You’ve got about a million of those pouring in from all over the country. Congratulations cards, get well soon cards, we really hope your husband gets elected so we aren’t consumed by nuclear Armageddon cards. And then Richard Nixon sent a pipe bomb.”

You set Aegon’s card on your nightstand, half-open so it will stay standing upright. Then you drink the apple juice from the tray the nurses left for you. “Aemond’s not here yet?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” Aegon says vaguely, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. He’s been shopping for himself too. He’s wearing a denim jacket over a black The Kinks t-shirt, ripped jeans, moccasins. He uses the remote to turn on the television: The Dating Game. “So, what did you study in college? You went to Manhattanville, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You really don’t listen when I talk, do you?”

“I try not to.”

“Yes, I went to Manhattanville. And I studied math.”

“No way. You didn’t major in math.”

“Women can’t do math?” you tease. “That’s sexist.”

“I didn’t say women can’t do math. I’m saying there’s no way your parents sent you to a housewife factory like Manhattanville College of the Sacred Heart to get a math degree.”

“They didn’t, which is why my bachelor’s is in math education. So half-math, half-kid stuff. Makes it a little more…domestic.”

“Cool. Teach me math.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He digs around in the pockets of his jeans until he finds a receipt, then locates a pen in the nightstand drawer. He hands both to you and then stands so he can watch over your shoulder as you work. You can smell him: cigarette smoke, rum, the cool grey rain that is falling outside. It drips off his hair, carelessly slicked back from his face.

“What’s something you don’t know how to do?” you ask, expecting to get an answer like exponents or calculating the volume of a pyramid.

“Uh. Long division.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Going all the way back to 4th grade. Alright then.” You begin writing. “So let’s take a large number—this year, 1968—and divide it by…hm…how many kids you have. So five.”

Aegon whistles. “Five kids. Goddamn.”

“Yes, and you probably couldn’t name them, but there are indeed five. Trust me, I’ve counted.”

“Okay, this is the part I don’t get. Five goes into 19 almost four times. But there’s no way to say almost four.”

“There certainly is not. Five goes into 19 three times, so we put a three up top and then subtract 15 from 19. We get four, drop down the six from 1968, and now we’re dividing 46 by five.”

“Nine.”

“Right. Five times nine is 45. So the nine goes up top and we subtract 45 from 46.”

“45 is basically 46. Let’s call it a day. Close enough.”

“No,” you insist. “We get one, then drop down the eight from 1968, which makes 18.”

“And five goes into 18 three times.”

“Where’s the three go?”

“Up top,” Aegon says, observing fixedly.

“And then we subtract…”

“15 from 18, which is three. So the answer is 393.3.”

“Wrong. Loser.”

“What! How am I wrong?!”

“You don’t just put the three after the decimal,” you say. “You drop down a zero—”

“A zero?! Where the fuck did a zero come from?”

“From the fact that 1968 is a whole number, so it’s actually 1968.0.”

“Oh.” Aegon blinks a few times. “Gotcha.”

“Add the zero after the three to get 30—”

“And 30 divided by five is six. So the answer is 393.6.”

“I am so proud. You are officially as smart as an average nine-year-old.”

He takes the receipt from you and studies it. “This was super enlightening.”

“You want to try calculus now?”

He cackles and sinks back into his plush salmon pink armchair, his miniature dominion in your hospital room kingdom. “You like teaching?”

“I love it,” you admit. “I had to do a semester of student teaching the spring before I graduated, and at first I was kind of petrified. But the kids are so hilarious and interesting and full of excitement about everything, and they’re sweet in totally unexpected ways. They’d chatter all through a lesson and make me want to jump out a five-story window, and then bring me some of their Easter candy. That’s when I realized they weren’t trying to torture me. They’re just kids.”

Aegon is meditative. “Yeah, kids are fun.”

“I wasn’t aware you had much interest in them.”

“No, I do.” And something about the way he says it makes you feel bad for taking the shot. He runs his fingers through his hair, perhaps debating how much he wants to share. “You know Viserys made us all do these little missions after college so we could learn about the real world, right?”

“Right.” Daeron spent his on lobster boats up in Maine, Helaena learned horticulture in France, Aemond helped register voters in Mississippi and Alabama. You can’t recall ever hearing about Aegon’s.

“I got sent to Yuma, Arizona to teach on the reservation there. When I stepped off the bus, I thought it was hell on earth. And then when my time was up I didn’t want to leave.”

“What did you teach?” And then you add: “Hopefully not math.”

“No, definitely not math,” he says, smiling but distant, remembering. “English. Books, poems, all that. But my favorite thing to do was take a song and break it down line by line, really get them curious about what the author was thinking. And then of course we’d all sing it together. I’d play guitar, they’d run around jumping on the furniture, it was a good time.”

“But you couldn’t stay.”

“No,” he sighs. “I had to come back here so I could get dragged kicking and screaming through law school and then married off.”

“And elected mayor of Trenton,” you say, trying to make him laugh. It works.

“Oh God, we are not talking about that. Most miserable two years of my life.”

“So far.”

“Yeah. If Aemond wins and makes me the attorney general, that might be worse.”

“Knock knock!” comes a cheerful trill from the doorway, and then Alicent and Mimi rush in. They descend upon your hospital bed, cooing and soothing, squeezing your hands and trying to smooth your untamed hair.

“What did it feel like?” Mimi is morbidly fascinated, swaying a little, eyes bleary with gin. “When they were digging around in there?”

“Well, obviously she was sedated, hon,” Aegon says, a bit impatiently. He and Mimi share a nod in greeting, no warmth, no depth. You wonder what it must be like for someone you spent so much time tangled up with to become a stranger.

“Oh, darling, I barely recognize you!” Alicent says. “You poor thing, you must be in such awful pain. I’ve never seen you like this before. Your face, your hair…”

Aegon gives her a quick, disapproving look and then lights a cigarette of the traditional variety. He puffs on it as he gazes at the window, like he’s counting the raindrops on the glass.

“I’m feeling a lot better now,” you assure Alicent.

Her eyes flick down to your belly, still swollen beneath your blankets. “Will it scar terribly, do you think?”

You shrug; you haven’t thought much about that part yet. “It’s a battle scar. Aemond gets them in the real world, I get them in here. Same war, different arenas.” You peek out into the hallway. “Is Aemond…is he with you…?”

“He wanted to be,” Alicent says, like it’s a consolation. “But, Washington, you know…the primary there is so close. So, so close. He kept saying that he and Humphrey were neck and neck, and they still are, I believe. Every vote counts, and he’s campaigning all over the Puget Sound.”

“He’s still in Washington?” Your voice is flat with disbelief, with disapproval.

“He wishes he could be here with you and the baby,” Alicent insists, stroking your hair. “I’m sure he’ll fly back as soon as he’s able. But he’s thinking of you so, so much. That’s why he let me and Mimi leave this morning.”

“Right,” you reply numbly. And then you remember what you’re supposed to say. “The election is important. It affects everyone, our son included. For the greater good, personal sacrifices are necessary.”

“We saw him,” Alicent tells you, radiant with joy. “Aristos Apollo.”

“So precious,” Mimi says. “But so small! And trapped in that hideous machine! We could only see him through those little round windows.”

Aegon casts her a violent glare. You are alarmed. “He’s not in an incubator?”

“They have him in a…what was it called, Mimi?” Alicent asks. Mimi has nothing useful to contribute. “A hyperbaric chamber, I think. To help him get more oxygen.”

“But he’s fine,” Aegon says firmly, giving his wife and mother a warning. “Didn’t the doctor say it was a precaution?”

“He did, he did,” Alicent promises you. “Yes, just a precaution, that’s what we were told. The doctor has been trying to reach Aemond, apparently, but since he landed in Washington, he’s never in one place for long…”

“We should buy gifts for the baby,” Mimi says excitedly. “Adorable hats and shirts and trousers. Although even the tiniest clothes might be too big for him right now.”

“Yes, gifts! We must shop for gifts. Oh, it’s all been such a whirlwind. We hurried off the plane to come straight here, love,” Alicent tells you. “Can Mimi and I get you something for dinner?”

“Sure, sure.” You are distracted, still thinking of Ari. “Anything is fine. Wherever you end up.”

“Would you like me to bring a priest to pray with you? Saint Nicholas Church is right around the corner.”

You smile. “That’s very kind, but I think I’d prefer some books.”

“Baby clothes, dinner, and books. We can do that. Can’t we, Mimi?”

“We absolutely can,” Mimi agrees with tipsy, girlish enthusiasm.

As an afterthought, Alicent says: “Aegon, have you been here all this time? You must be exhausted. We’re going to book a suite at the Plaza, there will be plenty of room for you too. We can drop you off there on our way to go shopping, if you’d like.”

“I’ll stay,” he says softly, watching the rain again.

Alicent’s brow furrows; her dark doe-like eyes are puzzled. “Alright, dear.” Then she and Mimi disappear into the hall.

“Is he really okay?” you ask Aegon when they’re gone.

“Yes. That’s exactly what the doctor told me, just a precaution. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Aegon,” you say, and don’t continue until he meets your eyes. “Why are you still here?”

He lights a fresh cigarette. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I’m not alone anymore. Alicent visits me, Mimi visits me.”

“Yeah, but you feel like you have to put on a show for them. Play the perfect Targaryen wife with all that stoic, dignified, unshakable faith. You hate me, so there isn’t as much pressure.”

“I don’t hate you, Aegon.”

“Yes you do. You always have. You don’t have to be polite about it.”

“Well…I have valid reasons to hate you.”

He smiles, exhaling smoke. “Right.”

“And you hate me too.”

Now he shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Everybody worships you, everybody thinks I’m a waste of chromosomes, is it really that hard to psychoanalyze?”

“No one worships me. They worship Aemond.”

“But you’re a package deal. Jack and Jackie, Franklin and Eleanor.”

You trace the lines in your palm with a fingertip, not knowing what to say. You’re so close to Aemond, so inseparable, and yet so vastly far. “Will you wheel me downstairs to see Ari after dinner?” It’s best to go at night when there are less staff around to try to stop you.

“Sure. You want a Mr. Misty?”

“Yeah. Lemon-lime.” That’s what he brought you last time, and it wasn’t bad for a cardboard cup of florescent green sugar water.

“Got it,” Aegon says, and leaves you alone.

You look at the phone on your nightstand. You’ve tried to call Aemond to no avail, though you spoke to Criston twice; on both occasions he said Aemond was in the middle of an interview. It’s understandable that you would have difficulty getting ahold of your husband while he’s off campaigning, leaping from town to town like an electric current. There’s nothing unusual about it at all. But Aemond could call you anytime he likes. You haven’t moved; he knows exactly where you are.

You keep staring at the phone. It doesn’t ring.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s night again, and you swim up from morphine-soft dreams into your hospital room, dark except for the flashing color of the television, low volume, NBC news. Aegon is curled up in the chair he’s claimed, snoring and half-covered with a cheap, pale blue hospital blanket. And it’s a strange feeling—a foreign language, a new religion—to realize that you’re relieved to see he’s still here, that there’s a comfort in it, a safety.

Suddenly, Aemond is on the television screen. You sit up in bed as gingerly as you can, leaning in, listening close. He’s rarely looked better: blue suit, prosthetic eye, rested and measured and sharp. He’s giving a speech at the Hotel Sorrento in Seattle, three hours behind the time you’re living in on the East Coast. Flanking him on the stage are Criston, Otto, Helaena, Fosco, the eight charming children. Five-year-old Cosmo keeps waving at the camera.

“Right now, my wife and newborn son are at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City,” Aemond says, beaming, and the audience whistles and cheers. You should smile, but you can’t. He’s not supposed to be there. He’s supposed to be on his way home. “But tonight I’m here with all of you, fighting with everything I’m made of to win the great state of Washington. And I won’t leave until the job is done, because I know the greatest act of devotion that any of us can show our children is to ensure they grow up in a better America than the one we find ourselves in today…”

You look over at Aegon and see that his glassy eyes are open, watching the television just like you are. You don’t know how long he’s been awake. The two of you exchange a glance, and there is a silent, shared recognition of what won’t be said. You can’t criticize your husband. Aegon isn’t going to kick you while you’re down. You are grateful for this. It is a conviction he has only recently acquired.

Aegon pulls his blanket up to his chin and rolls over, turning away from you. You close your eyes and dream of being a child back in Tarpon Springs, mesmerized as you watch Greek sponge divers emerge from the bubbling depths in their suits of rubber armor.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the afternoon of the 13th. The Washington State Democratic Convention is being held tonight, and so win or lose Aemond will be walking into Mount Sinai Hospital tomorrow. He has to, he doesn’t have a choice. He’ll have no excuse to be anywhere else, and journalists will be swarming at the entranceway like bull sharks in the Gulf of Mexico.

It’s raining again. You’re reading one of the books that Alicent brought you, Dr. Spock’s Baby and Child Care. You had been meaning to get a copy before you were consumed by Aemond’s campaign and then his near-assassination, his maiming, his fleeting brush with oblivion. Aegon is cross-legged in the salmon pink armchair and plucking lazily at his guitar, singing so low no one outside the room would be able to hear him. It’s a Rolling Stones song, slow and mournful.

“You don’t know what’s going on

You’ve been away for far too long

You can’t come back and think you are still mine.”

As you flip a page and raindrops patter gently against the window, you find yourself thinking how easy this is, your hair undone and your feet bare, no photos to take or lines to remember, no practiced smiles, no overwrought itineraries, only compassion that is quiet and small and real.

“Well, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time

I said, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time…”

Aegon abruptly stops playing, cutting off with a twang. You look up at him. He’s gazing back with eyes that are filling up his face, glistening with horror. You turn to find out what he’s seen. There’s a doctor standing in the doorway, but he’s not alone. There’s a Greek Orthodox priest with him.

“Mrs. Targaryen,” the doctor begins, then glances to the priest. The holy man—black robes, gold chains, clasping a komboskini like the one Aemond keeps in a box on his writing desk at Asteria, stained with his own blood—gives an encouraging nod. “We’ve tried to reach your husband. We’ve called his hotel in Tacoma several times, but the senator must be out campaigning, and…” Again, he looks to the priest. Aegon is setting his guitar on the floor, covering his mouth with his hands.

Ari. Too early, too fragile, too defenseless in a world full of wolves.

Your words come out in a whisper. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“We must remember, child,” the priest tells you, vague patronizing pity. “That the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, but what is lost to us in this life is never truly gone. Those we love wait for us on the other side in paradise—”

“Please leave. I don’t want to talk to a priest. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

I just gave birth to him. I just started to believe he was mine.

The doctor begins: “Ma’am, I’m so sorry to have to deliver this news—”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone, I want to be alone. So please leave,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I want to be alone. Please leave me alone.”

The doctor looks to Aegon. A man’s permission is sought. “Go,” Aegon manages, raspy and strangled, and the doctor obeys.

“God bless you and your husband, Mrs. Targaryen,” the priest says as he departs with a swift bow. You can’t reply. You’re biting back sobs as the tears begin to slither down your cheeks, scalding and furious, not just grief but the bottomless rage of Nemesis.

Aegon is watching you, not knowing what to do, not knowing what you need.

Aemond would want you to be stoic. Aemond would want you to have faith, forbearance, grace. “It is God’s will.”

“Hey.” Aegon reaches across the space between you, grabs your hand, holds it so tightly your bones ache. Still, you wouldn’t want him to let go. “You’re allowed to be fucked up about this. I am too.”

When your eyes drift to him, they are glaring and heartsick and poisonous. “Where’s Aemond?” Why isn’t he here?

Aegon sighs deeply and picks up the phone with his free hand. He spins the rotary dial with his index finger and then holds the handset to his ear. He waits as it rings. “Pantages Theater, Tacoma, Washington,” he tells the operator. A minute or more crawls by. “I need to speak to Senator Targaryen immediately. Yes, I know there’s a convention underway there, that’s why I’m calling you. Go get him.” More minutes, eternal, terrible beyond description. “What do you mean you can’t find him?!” Aegon snaps. “Okay, give me someone else. Anyone travelling with him. Criston Cole, Fosco Viviani, Otto Hightower, Helaena Targaryen. Hurry up. Let’s go.”

Outside the rain grows heavy and loud; it falls in sheets against the misty windows. In the distance, thunder growls.

“Hi, Criston, it’s me. He needs to come home now. Right now.”

Aegon closes his eyes. Criston must be arguing with him.

“No, you don’t understand,” Aegon says, forcing the words to leave his lips and ride the wires to the West Coast, to where the sun sets, to where the future is dawning. He’s still holding your hand. “Aemond doesn’t have a son anymore.”

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