#So good for LP I guess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuswhore · 1 year ago

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Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (2)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut, making out, breast play, fingering (f. receiving), p in v sex (protected + unprotected), oral (f. receiving) uhhhh i think that's it lmk tho

[A/N]: Part 2 !! shit goes down in this one so be prepared ig lmao. thank you for the love on part 1, i hope you enjoy the finale too hehe

For the third time this week, you wish you could squeeze your brother’s brains with your own two hands and watch it explode like a grape without legal repercussions. Or parental ones.

You slam your phone down on the counter after you end your conversation with him, frustrated as you watch the empty shelf where you left your dinner for today in the fridge last night, and the other green box that was actually your brothers. Refusing to eat the dry PB&J he usually packs for himself, you slam the fridge door shut, trudging out the door to leave for work, thoroughly annoyed at the prospect of needing to eat out.

It’s gone forgotten for most of the day, that is until the clock hits eight and you feel your stomach grumble, immediately putting you in a sour mood as you remember you couldn’t enjoy your pasta because your brother was enjoying your pasta. You only had another hour left, supposing you could wait till you get home to make dinner yourself, not feeling the burger joint across the street in the slightest. Eating a moonpie to satiate yourself for the time being, you go back to stocking the shelves for the new LP shipment, making a vague mental note to ask Mingyu if Jia liked the gift he picked out a couple weeks ago.

Your opportunity arises almost automatically as you walk over to greet whoever came in, abandoning the opened box of bubble wrapped LPs as you hear the bell chime softly at the front of the store.

Mingyu was here (again), hands occupied with a bag, looking relieved to find you emerging from the shelves.

“Oh, you’re here. I was afraid you left already,” he says, smiling slightly.

“Would’ve been closed if I did.” You nudge your head towards the clearly unlocked door, donning the neon open sign.

He looks a little dumb, turning to look at the door. “Oh. Right.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Caught me at a good time though, I was just about to start wrapping up here.”

He suddenly looks like he’s reminded of what he’s come here for, placing the bag on the desk next to him. “Seok told me to drop this off for you, he said it’s food.”

Snorting, you take a look at the inside to find takeout from your favourite pasta place, which also happens to be your most expensive favourite pasta place. Seokmin felt bad enough to spend extra dollars on your dinner tonight, you guessed you could forgive him.

You sigh as you speak. “And you strike as his errand boy yet again, sorry he’s been making you do all this.”

“Did he piss you off?” Mingyu asks.

“Hm? He’s been pissing me off all week, this is him trying to get on my good side before I spit in his coffee.”

He laughs at that, a toothy smile that has your stomach lurching. The flashback was brief but vivid all the same, his grin triggering a long forgotten memory. You could almost see the black studs in his ears again, his bangs falling in chunks on his forehead, his face turning into the boyish sixteen year old recollection on your kitchen counter, drinking cans of Monster and helping you lie to your mom.

“Explains why he was ready to drop that much on a bowl of pasta.”

“Hey, it’s good.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He grins, “I’m gonna leave your pasta in your loving embrace, I have to feed my car now. Been putting it off till payday.”

“Oh, right. Thanks for dropping this off though, appreciate it.” You offer him a tight lipped smile. One that he returns, canines almost glinting in the light (but that’s just you).

“No worries, I’ll see ya around.” You don’t remember what you were meant to ask him until he’s long jingled the glass door shut, walking to his parked car. You supposed it could wait, Jia would’ve liked anything he got her. You could ask him later, not wanting to have him turn around to answer the obvious question.

The opportunity does not arise as easily as it did this time, a couple weeks passing in relative uneventful indifference, slow days at the store and nights in seven days a week. You were starting to wish you’d taken summer classes while you were stuck here anyway, the mundane days pushing you to believe you’d rather be busy than inexplicably bored. It’s not until your brother has a near mental breakdown from only having a sister as his main recreational contact that there’s a change.

Mingyu sits on your couches in the dark, useless blanket thrown over his torso as both of his sock clad feet hang out in the air. To be fair, nobody’s looking at anybody as the eyes remain on yet another unnecessary explosion on the screen. You vaguely wonder how the ship hasn’t sunk yet.

“What the fuck do you mean he’s been alive this whole time?” Seokmin utters, voice thick with the entire stick of butter he stuck into his bowl of popcorn.

“Who funded this?” Mingyu mumbles from the other end, a deep frown etched on his face.

“The people who funded the other three monstrosities.” You roll your eyes, inching your way into a sitting position, the ache making its way into the crick of your neck.

“There’s more?!” The prospect had Mingyu hurtling into a sitting position, but not without his own set of winces as he feels the bones cracking and muscles aching. His hair is a mess, his hoodie nearly backwards, and you can’t help but laugh at the mildly confused and bewildered expression he has on.

“Yeah, you wanna watch those too?” you ask through giggles.

Glancing at the final pub scene that’s playing on the TV, he's quick to mumble, “Fuck, no.”

“I haven’t watched a real shitty movie in a while.” Seokmin groans as it’s his turn to stretch. “This was fun. Hollywood’s back.”

Both you and Mingyu pointedly ignore his statement, your own mind debating whether you wanted to watch another movie. It’s not until you look up to see Mingyu doing something on his phone that you remember what you wanted to ask him.

“Hey, Mingyu, did — Seokmin!” Your brother’s decided to begin his aerial stretches, touching his toes and cracking his back. You shift your head wildly to get a gap through his restless movements, eventually giving up finding Mingyu. He could hear you. “Did you – ugh – did you get to give Jia her present?”

You aren’t sure what it is, but the way the question has Seok landing on his heels mid tip toe stretch and how Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up, you don’t doubt you’ve touched on something sensitive. There’s a part of you that wonders if it’s too late to take it back when both boys make eye contact with each other, but your brother beats you to it.

“I, uh…forgot to tell her,” he lowtones.

You look to your brother and then to Mingyu.

“We broke up.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu smiles a little awkwardly, and Seok makes a strangled sound that may have been a laugh of his own. Or a cough, you aren’t too sure. “But…she did like the present, when I gave it to her anyway.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s good,” you manage, not knowing what to say. “Sorry that happened though…sucks.”

“She ended it–” that has your own brows shooting up in disbelief. Kim Mingyu got dumped? “–over the phone, she decided she wanted to stay home for a while to figure out what she wanted to do. Uni wasn’t cutting it for her here…”

“I mean, good for her, I guess. Hope you’re doing okay, though.”

He blows air out of his cheeks, scratching his neck. “I mean, we’re fine. Ended it on good terms.”

Seokmin’s still standing awkwardly staring at the still running ending credits for something to do. “Should we get food?”

“I don’t know, are you hungry?” Mingyu asks.

“How is the heartburn not getting to you yet? You basically emptied the country’s dairy reserves in a single popcorn serving,” you grumble.

“Don’t underestimate my ingestional abilities,” he retorts.

Mingyu stares for a moment. “Aren’t you lactose intoletrant or something?”

Seokmin turns to him, mouth open as he points his finger, “You know, I might be.”

“No you aren’t, if you were lactose intolerant then I’d be lactose intolerant,” you shoot.

“Explain the empty can of air freshener in the bathroom after queso and chips?”

“Have you considered during queso and chips that queso is a dip and not an optional beverage?”

Mingyu’s cutting between you two before you can go on with your bickering, afraid he’d have to physically peel you off of each other if it goes on, “Let’s just go to a drive thru, you can get your lactose or…non lactose options however you like.”

That’s how you’re shoved into the backseat of Mingyu’s car, Seokmin fiddling with the GPS to find the nearest McDonalds.

“How do you not know where the nearest McDonald’s is, you live here,” Mingyu hisses as he takes his fourth right turn in a row.

“We always just order in, who sits in a car and goes to McDonalds.”

“Us apparently,” you lowtone to Mingyu from the back, picking at a crusty flower that you found in between the seats. They ignore you.

“Okay, I think it’s this one. Dude, get a new GPS, this one responds after fifty years, of course it’s gonna take this long.”

Their own bickering is starting to zone out into a buzz in your ears as you stare at a patch of leather behind Mingyu’s seat. You vaguely considered that you’re falling asleep.

The streetlight has other plans, however, when you sense something glinting in the sudden light underneath the seat. Your interest is piqued, moving forward to see what it was. Mingyu senses you shifting and asks you what you’re doing.

You don’t answer him as you shuffle around to catch sight of it again. And then you see it, a tiny necklace on the slightly dirty mat, a circle charm with a single ‘J’ in the center. You aren’t sure why you froze at the sight, the gold glinting prettily even in the dark. Leaving it there, you emerge from under the seat, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”

Mingyu’s common occurrence in the bookstore is starting to concern you, never catching him as the type to read something other than the occasional bad riddles on the back of a cereal box. You stand corrected however, as you find yourself trying to find a hardcover for him on the computer system, mumbling incoherently.

“Never knew you read.”

“Well, now you do. This one’s really good though, you should read it too.” He notes, motioning towards the paperback version he brought with him for the book he’s finding.

You snort at his suggestion. “Have you realised this is one of the most popular books in its genre right now? Hard to find someone who hasn’t read it.”

He frowns at the revelation, “Oh. None of my friends read it.”

Seokmin hasn’t opened a book for recreational purposes since he was twelve. As for his other friends…they didn’t exactly seem like the smart type either. You get up to move to the shelf the computer’s indicated, trying to walk off your annoyance at a particular memory before it begins to show. Mingyu follows you in your pursuit to find his book, skimming the shelves himself as he strolled behind you.

“Oh, right, how’s that exhibition thing going? Forgot to ask about it,” you ask as you spot the box of the hardcovers at the top of the shelf. You grab the ladder that rests near the wall as he answers.

“It’s going pretty good, nearly done. I just need to send the final pieces over – what’re you doing?”

You grunt as you begin to climb up the metal ladder, trying to get to the box. “Getting your book, genius.”

“Wait–” He moves to grab the ladder at the base as he watches you step higher. “Get down! I’ll go up instead.”

“You get cold feet at the bottom of an escalator, be serious, Mingyu,” you grunt as you pull the box towards yourself, the ladder shaking with the force it takes, and it has Mingyu gripping the metal tighter. You pull the familiar cover out before closing the box back up. “There.”

“Why would you keep supposed bestsellers there, isn’t this like, in demand?” He grumbles as he continues to hold the ladder as you climb back down.

“Ran out. Need to restock them at the front, but I’ll do that tomorrow.” You huff as you jump the last step, earning a loud yelp from Mingyu.

“Chill out,” you chuckle as he puts the ladder away. “Okay, do you want me to look at anything else for you?”

“What would you recommend for my next imaginary adventure?” he asks as he picks out a random book from the shelf, trying to find the blurb.

“Not that one.” You scrunch your nose at the sight.

“This one I know is popular. What’s wrong with it?” He chuckles as he puts it back.

“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet,” you call out as you walk back to the front.

“And believe you instead?”

Oh, you wish.

Picking up your current read from the front of the store, you wait for him to reach the end of the opening where you stand to hand it to him.

“You can decide that for yourself. Haven’t finished it yet, but it looks super promising. Try it out if you want.”

He barely looks over the glistening title before handing it back to you, and you nearly assume he didn’t want it.

“Ring both of them up,” he says, and then with a pause he continues, “And anything else you think is good too, I don’t really care.”

Deciding you’d test the waters with this first recommendation, you only cash him in for two. He doesn’t question it as you do your job behind the desk, making casual conversation as he waits for you to find the right barcode.

“How far are you with that one?”

“The one I gave you? Just touched chapter 20, I think.”

He only hums in response as he pays, grabbing the bag that you push towards him.

“Let me know how you like it,” you comment before he begins to turn to leave.

“‘Course.” He grins, and you can't help but grin right back. He leaves you in the store with a slight heat coming up to your cheeks, and a wad of gum in your mouth to keep your stomach in check.

By the time the next day rolls around, it’s been nearly 24 hours before you hear from him again, his contact seemingly only ever gracing you within the walls of the bookstore – except he isn’t physically here. Mingyu texts you, and you nearly fall out of your chair at the sight of his name on your phone.

It’s near embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone, passcode going wrong once, twice, thrice…you decide it’s the top five worst times your phone’s refused face ID. You’re slamming your fingers onto the screen harder than you should, watching the warp in the pixels at the pressure. By the time it does open its secrets for you, the annoyance has settled. Not at him though.

[Mingyu]: hey [Mingyu]: i got to chap 20 [You]: what [You]: how [Mingyu]: started reading when i got home [Mingyu]: and then i got to 20 [Mingyu]: i think i pulled an all nighter [You]: you think? [You]: was it that good [Mingyu]: couldnt put it down [Mingyu]: i wanna talk about it but my eyes are closing [You]: you know where to find me when you wake up

The typing ellipses don’t pop up after that, and you assume for the better that he’s succumbed to his afternoon drowsiness. If he was serious about that all nighter (which you don’t doubt, no way he could’ve plowed through twenty chapters and gotten any sleep), you assume he’ll be knocked out for at least the rest of the afternoon.

Smiling to yourself at the thought of him wanting to text you about your matching achievements (and actively pushing your mind away from the blessed image of a napping Mingyu), you find yourself scrolling up the conversation, trying to remember the last time Mingyu had texted. That was easy to find out as the short scroll past the sparing details from your photography adventures landed you straight into late last year, a sparse conversation regarding your brother’s whereabouts when he wouldn’t answer his phone.

You remembered the conversation. As mundane and ordinary as it was, it was difficult to forget the way your hands were shaking as you typed your one word replies, how your breathing was coming out uneven at a mere text back. You could argue there was less of that this time round, proud of yourself for learning to control your emotions better.

There’s a train of thought that leads you to every recent interaction you’ve had with him. The conversations where you could look him in the eye, your relative indifference when he would show up unannounced, the disappearance of the wad of emotions in your stomach at the mere mention of his name.

The latter may be slightly untrue, but you can't help but note how the ounces of fear within the concoction is gone. You were never quite sure what it was that you were so afraid of, perhaps the fateful night at Seungcheol’s party had answered that question for you, but still.

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

Despite telling yourself it was the alcohol talking, maybe even a couple puffs of whatever — the mild disappointment remains. Thinking about the weeks following that, the moping and the hurt, you almost don’t blame Mika for acting the way that she did.

Your brother had always been oblivious to all the frolicking in your heart that would ignite as Mingyu would enter the room, and for over a decade at that. And yet, it was during those weeks that he had noticed you acting like you had been dumped, asking you what on earth was wrong with you.

“Did somebody say something to you?” he asks.

“Huh?” you frown, annoyed at the way he's planted himself directly in front of the cabinet that held your beloved moonpies.

“You’re acting like you’ve been rejected by the love of your life. Nayeon’s not telling me anything and you’re being avoidant, what is up with you?” He huffs, hands on his hips.

Oh, if only he knew how right he was. But you weren’t upset because the love of your life rejected you (anymore, at least), you were upset because he was a public asshole.

It takes more coaxing from him to get you to start talking. It’s easier when he brings out the big guns: “D’you want me to tell mom?”

You tell him a little, not naming any names, much to his dismay. “Some guy was an ass, something about me being too easy or whatever.”

“You’re upset because some drunk dude decided to run his mouth?” He scrunches his nose at the thought. “Ignore him, he’s stupid.”

“Thanks for the help, I’m cured,” you deadpan, pushing him aside to get to the gold inside the cabinets.

“I could get Mingyu to help me beat him up, I just need a name.”

Oh. You briefly wonder how he'd feel if he had to beat up his best friend.

More than his attempts to sound like a cool older brother, the image of Mingyu beating himself up brings you more amusement than anything else. You crack a smile at the thought.

That was months ago, yet you can’t seem to forget the hurt. Trying to shake off where your thoughts were taking you, you get up to take a walk around the store for something to do, fixing microscopic displacements on the shelves and wondering if you should restock something, only to realize you’d already done that when you came in, not wanting to whip out the ladder again to restock the ones you'd just landed from.

Landing inevitably back behind the counter, you instinctively reach for the book wedged beside the computer. Your outstretched hand stops midway, thinking about how Mingyu’s reached as far as you in the story quite literally overnight. Retracting your hand, you decide you’d wait.

The bell chimes signaling a customer, and you find yourself grateful for the distraction.

It’s nearing 8:30 when you decide you should close early. It was slower than usual today, the few walk-ins leaving without purchases too hefty, rendering you bored in your seat for most of the day. You’re locking the drawers of the main desk when Mingyu walks in with the familiar tune of the bell chiming, soft smile as he greets you quietly.

“How was your nap?” you ask, trying not to giggle at his still dazed expression.

“Pretty good, didn’t wanna wake up though.” His voice remains relatively coarse, and you don’t miss the light indent on his left cheek. It’s endearing, enough to have you wishing you could cup his face in a loving squish.

But you don’t.

“You don’t say,” you comment. Pointing at your own cheek as you continue, “You sure you don’t wanna take the night off too?”

“Fuck,” he whispers as he looks down to fumble for his phone to see for himself in his front camera. The puffiness hasn’t gone away entirely, evident when he’s frowning and looking downwards, and the urge to squeeze comes hurtling back.

“Did you drive like this?”

“Uh, no, I walked.”

“Walked?” You try to comprehend if that was even more dangerous. He only nods. “Why?”

“Wanted to see you.”

It takes effort to not clutch your chest at the way your heart leaps. Kim Mingyu, you bastard.

“Had to talk about the book.”

Your voice comes out a little more breathless than you’d like, but you hope his drowsiness skips over it. “You could’ve texted.”

He pauses as he mulls it over. “I mean, yeah…I don’t know. I just put my shoes on and came here.”

You decide you’d spare him the brain power and continue your remaining closing duties, talking to him as you move around the store.

“We can take my car to my place, better than getting distracted here.”

He only nods in response. “Do you want any help?”

“Nope, just need to turn off the lights and lock the doors. Let me grab my bag.”

By the time you’re home, an XL pizza and drinks in your arms to satiate Mingyu’s post nap ravenous tendencies, you drop down on the couch with a huff. Seokmin hears the ruckus and appears from his room, not wasting time to break on the pizza with Mingyu as you leave to freshen up. By the time you settle with your own slice it seems as though Mingyu has roused himself significantly more than before.

“Okay,” you huff as you land on the soft cushioning, “What did you think about the book?”

“Hard to believe this is her first book, it’s really good.”

“Her world building is amazing, some of the best I’ve read.”

Your back and forth discussion grows increasingly passionate, forgetting the fact that your brother was also right there excluded from the conversation. His head shifts back and forth as the both of you converse, utterly lost. It would’ve been funny, except neither if you were actually looking at him.

He manages to get a word in as one of you pauses for breath. “Since when do you read?”

Mingyu gapes at the question, seemingly trying to find an answer. “Recently.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? I just wanted to start reading,” he scoffs in a manner that could be described as exaggerated. If he’s trying to throw Seokmin off his scent, he’s succeeded, as he watches Seokmin get up and announce that he has work to do. That leaves the both of you alone.

The conversation takes you into the late hours of the night, Mingyu’s prior nap releasing him from the chains of reasonable sleeping hours as he remains wide awake despite the 3 AM time on the dial. You manage to keep up with him, even when he follows you to the kitchen to brew a coffee.

“Do you usually work this hard just to make coffee?” he asks as he watches you discard the used espresso puck.

“We have a bottle of the instant stuff here somewhere for when I’m lazy,” you explain as you pour the fresh shots into the prepped ice and milk. “Doesn’t taste the same though.”

“Coffee is coffee,” he says as he stirs the drink you push towards him.

“Quite the contrary. Besides, the instant stuff fucks with my stomach, I’d rather not.” You take a sip of your coffee, glancing at the sink. “Will say, hate everything I have to wash afterwards.”

“I’ll do ‘em later, gotta pay you back for all the manual labour that went into this thing,” he refers to the latte he’s sipping on currently.

“The appreciation is enough. We can make Seok do them in the morning for being a loser and going to bed early,” you snort. Mingyu laughs at that, the image of Seokmin doing dishes while the both of you sleep in.

“You sure you don’t wanna call it a night?” he asks you as you place yourself on the kitchen counter.

“I’m having fun, Mingyu, seriously. I’m off tomorrow too, I don’t have to wake up,” you reassure for the nth time.

He doesn’t reply, only stares up at you from his leaned position. He’s chewing on his lip, and you find yourself unconsciously chewing at your own, the already raw skin stinging at the abrasion. Mingyu’s hands come up to your face slowly, like he knew it was hurting as he pulls your bottom lip to release it with his thumb.

“You’re gonna bleed,” he whispers. His hand that grasps your chin doesn’t move, rough thumb continuing to graze at your lip lightly.

“You never stopped picking at your lips, did you?” he wonders out loud, eyes trained on your mouth.

Your own hand comes to lightly grip at his forearm. He remembers your habit, picking at the skin of your lips since near middle school, getting yelled at when you had to excuse yourself from the dinner table when they would bleed.

“Old habits die hard.” Your voice is thick despite the gulp you had to take before opening your mouth.

It was true, probably too much as you continue to look at his near perfect face. The oldest habit, the hardest to die.

Mingyu drops his hand, landing it in your lap, your own hand still gripping his forearm. You aren’t sure what’s going through you as you trail your hand up further, to his wrists, to the dip of his palm, landing on his fingers. You grip his hand, tight this time.

“I’m gonna jump,” you whisper, and you feel his grip tighten around yours as he braces to support you off the counter.

You face him in silence, contemplating, “It’s hot in here, let’s go back out.”

He watches as you pick your cup off the counter and leave, not waiting for him to follow you. He finds himself trying to take deeper breaths, stalling, but not for long as he joins you back on the couch.

It probably came as a shock to both of you the first time Mingyu announced his leave much earlier in the night, when you stopped him, asking him to stay. It was silent for a few sparing moments as you both absorbed what had come out of your mouth, trying to make sense of it. You found yourself needing to coax him a little more to convince him he wasn’t overstaying his visit, that you were having fun. He sits back down, warning you that this was going to be a long night.

You don’t think you could ever forget the absolute somersault your stomach performed, the after effects leaving you still as a plank.

It was a long night indeed. And yet, when you found your eyes closing after a fight, much later on the couch with a large blanket shared between the both of you, Mingyu watches you doze off while leaning on the couch facing him, wishing the night was longer.

If you were awake, you probably would’ve found yourself agreeing.

There’s a lot Mingyu has to learn about himself. He’s reminded of the fact nearly everyday. Especially right now as Seokmin runs his mouth sitting with him at a secluded booth in some bar.

They had company, a couple guys joining them for dinner before leaving not too long after. That left him and a slightly tipsy Seokmin alone, who’s currently munching on a platter of crackers in front of him. He was bright enough, the energy from the others keeping him going as they played their drinking games and ate their obnoxious amounts of food. It was alot more somber with only the both of them left, his mood deflating as their friends slowly dwindled in number. That wasn’t about to stop him from ordering another beer though.

“Summer’s so boring,” he grumbles in dejection, flicking a stray crumb off the table.

“You chose to stay here,” Mingyu replies.

Seokmin doesn’t answer him, but continues to look like a kicked puppy, a slight pout forming on his face.

Mingyu fights the urge to scoff, “You can’t possibly be this upset about summer being depressing.”

“It’s not about that.”

Mingyu takes a swig of his own drink before sighing loudly, “What’s this about then?”

Seokmin says your name, and Mingyu is suddenly very interested. “She just seems to be doing a lot better since she started working at the bookstore.”

“Better?”

“She told me about this guy a couple months ago.”

Mingyu’s trying really hard to not look visibly deflated, not that Seokmin would notice considering his state, but he attempts to sound nonchalant regardless. “Do we know him?”

“I – no, that’s not,” he huffs in exasperation, “She said she overheard him, basically calling her easy.”

“Easy?”

“I don’t know, something about her chasing his tail or whatever, she won’t tell me who it is. She hadn’t been doing too great recently and I’m pretty sure it was because of him.”

It is dawning on Mingyu, embarrassingly slowly, that the guy Seokmin is talking about — may be him.

His voice is hoarse, a little frantic. “And she’s doing better, you said?”

“Oh yeah, the bookstore’s been amazing for her. Not sure how though, ‘cause she just sits there doing nothing for hours.”

He can’t bring himself to meet Seokmin’s eyes, remnants of his memories flurrying around in his brain in an attempt to figure out what other bullshit he had spewed that day. He was sure you weren’t there, you couldn’t be.

“Maybe doing nothing was what she needed.” Mingyu’s reply is whatever came to him off the top of his head, mind still racing.

“Hm, I guess. I was trying to get her to tell me, we could’ve chopped his dick off together,” Seokmin grumbles.

Mingyu winces slightly, eyes tight shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a protective hand that subconsciously reaches his crotch area. “Yeah, yeah totally.”

“Fucker got let off easy, he should be happy she’s doing good.” Seokmin continues to ramble, voice getting increasingly louder.

“Yeah…”

“She’s not easy. My sister isn’t easy at all! Running after his tail, my ass! She doesn’t need some motherfucker with bad hair to be running his mouth, drunk as a bitch.” He stabs a single chopstick into the spare piece of meat on his plate, and the force has Mingyu flinching slightly.

“How do you know he has bad hair?” Mingyu continues to stare at the impaled piece of beef that Seokmin brings to his mouth.

“I don’t need to know a motherfucker to know he uses shitty hair gel.”

Mingyu may try to run his hair gel past Seokmin at some point. But right now, he’s only trying to make it out of the bar with his sex organs intact.

“Hey, we’re past this, remember? She’s doing great right now and that’s all that matters.” Mingyu sounds overly flustered, but he can’t bring himself to care as he attempts to reign in an angry Seokmin. They were garnering looks, and the last thing he wanted was to get kicked out before they had paid.

Seokmin is still huffing and puffing, but significantly less so as he finds reason in Mingyu’s words. “I’m gonna find out who he is.”

“You hate living in peace.”

“My sister’s hasn’t had any peace because of this dickwad, I’m—”

“OKAY! Okay, got it. We’ll figure that out when you’re sober.” Mingyu rises from his own seat as he finds Seokmin lifting his own butt off his chair in a near war cry.

He manages to fend him off, waving for the bill before he has to pull him back from aimlessly marching to whoever’s house he had in mind. He calms down as they wait for the check, finishing the remaining scraps on the table in silence.

Seokmin seems nearly back to his regular self after a few minutes, forehead creases smoothing over during his cool down time. He speaks, except this time it’s in a more socially acceptable manner.

“Hey, I’ve been noticing, you and her have been getting pretty close lately. I don’t know, it’s just, I woke up and saw both on the couch and —”

“Here’s your bill!” The waiter cuts him mid sentence, placing the check on the table.

Mingyu knew what Seokmin was getting to, and he was thanking every star in the galaxy for bringing the waiter into their lives at that exact moment. He’s quick to fuss over the glossy piece of paper, humming and making comments at their purchases to fill in any silent opportunities to let Seokmin continue. Mingyu’s slips his card in the wallet.

“It’s on me,” he announces as he flashes a quick smile to the waiter. “You can cut a ten for yourself.”

“Wait, what — let’s split, what’s wrong with you?” Seokmin jolts up as registers what’s happening a little too late.

“It’s fine, you can pay for the next one.” He says as he shifts around the table to look for his phone. “You should probably go to bed too, it’s getting pretty late. Sleep off the beer and whatnot.”

Seokmin is left speechless as Mingyu gets up, grabbing his stuff.

“Wait, your card—” Seokmin starts.

“Is here,” Mingyu spews a quick ‘thanks’ to the waiter, waving his card in front of Seokmin so he’d finally stand the fuck up.

“Do I need to drag you out of that chair, let’s go!” he says, grabbing Seok by the arm to lift him off his seat. It was nearly funny how he couldn’t get him to stay within the vicinity mere minutes ago and now is begging for him to get up.

By the time Mingyu’s jamming Seok’s key into your apartment, he’s tired of his endless rambling. He can only appreciate his drunk brain for not bringing up the last question he tried asking him. He’s opening the door, urging Seokmin to walk inside, slapping him awake from his nap against the wall.

Mingyu deems it best to physically put him in bed for the furnitures’ sake, pushing him in front to lead him to his room. Mingyu’s spent by the time he’s done and Seokmin is snoring, his back cracking from the hunched position he’s kept from tucking him in and taking his shoes and jacket off.

He tiptoes out (despite knowing it’d take a marching band to wake him up at that point), closing the door as quietly as possible.

“What’re you doing here?”

Mingyu nearly jumps out of his skin, landing a mile as he hears your voice in the dark hallway, hand coming up to his heart. “Jeez— announce yourself, would you?”

“In my own house?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Just—” he waves you off as he comes round, standing straight. “I was putting Seok to bed.”

You inhale sharply. “Did you drink?”

“Me? No, but he’s knocked out right now, he’s probably gonna need a pill in the morning,” he replies.

“Hm, I’ll see to it in the morning, or whenever it is that he wakes up.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu is standing awkwardly in front of you in the dark hall, not having anything else to say. “I’ll get going now.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Get some sleep,” you say as you let him move past you.

“You too, don’t know why you’re awake,” he chuckles quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep, I’ll go to bed now though.”

The awkwardness is painful, Mingyu can feel it in his chest. But what he’s feeling more is the way you look in your night shirt now that you’re in the light of the living room, legs shown farther up than you’d usually let them go. He wonders if you're wearing shorts underneath, but slaps himself out of it when he realises he’s been silent for too long.

“Uh yeah, I’ll go now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

Mingyu replays the last five minutes in his head the entire car ride home, when he’s changing out of his clothes, when he’s brushing his teeth, when he crawls under the warm covers to finally call it a night. Mingyu thinks about what he said all those months ago at a dumb party, how he’s hurt you more than he thought he had. There’s an ache that plunges into him, the thought of you going through that because of him while he stayed blissfully unaware.

He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do to make it up to you, but right now, he’s happy. Happier than he’s been in a while, falling asleep to the thought of you.

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

You, on the other hand, are far from happy as you find yourself in yet another car related predicament.

Having to run to work in the middle of July is never a preferred option, yet you find yourself needing to do it anyway when you walk out to your engine refusing to start.

You really needed a new car.

Abandoning the hunk of what was turning out to be just expensive scrap metal, you rile other options out in your head.

Seokmin was long gone with his car. The bus was gonna take too long. No way in hell were you about to overpay a taxi to take you somewhere that was essentially just a 15 minute walk (read as run).

So you find yourself slinging your bag as a crossbody, thanking the heavens that you at least didn’t need to change your shoes. You pray for your white sneakers as you run across town, blurting apologies to passerbys that would gape at your hurried form. As apologetic as you were, it didn’t compare to how sorry you felt for yourself, the heat pricking your skin in an agitated rise anytime you’d slow down.

The AC is near heavenly as you gasp walking into the bookstore, red faced and hair sticking to your forehead.

“Sorry,” you gulp frantically. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh god,” you hear your boss comment as she sees you walk in. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just need a minute. Car broke down.”

She ushers you in front of the AC, waiting for you to collect yourself before taking her leave.

“I think I’m okay now, sorry about that.” Your chuckle comes out a little choked. So much for being convincing.

“You really should get a new car. I have a friend who’s daughter is selling hers, do you want me to ask them for you?” She’s patting your shoulder as she talks to you, and you recognize her courage to look past the sweat that’s accumulated there.

“That’d be great actually, thank you.”

Your second blow of the day comes right after you’ve finally gotten rid of the buckets of sweat on your body, seating yourself behind your desk to do some digging of your own.

You immediately wish you hadn’t as soon as you open the first second hand market site, the price tags landing you somewhere between never happening and impossible. Groaning, you place your head in your hands as you try to think of what to do. You pray your boss would come back with a quote that isn’t as outrageous as everything else you’ve cursed your eyes upon, seeing as that seemed the only viable option for you.

Closing the windows off your computer, you decide this was a headache for another time. You reach for your bag to rummage through it, only to find yourself in your third predicament of the day.

You had forgotten your book.

It shouldn’t have been a worry, considering you were in a bookstore and had access to about 56 more of the same edition that you could borrow for the day. Except it was a worry, because your copy had been religiously tabbed and annotated as you would read, not a single thought left to be forgotten in your head as they would spring up. You can almost see the pink cover sitting on your desk and you nearly begin to cry.

You wonder if you could break your ‘one book at a time’ streak for the sake of it, picking up another one off the shelf to start. The thought nearly makes you gag, the anxiety of losing interest in your current one leading you to sit aimlessly at your desk for the rest of the day.

What’s even more anxiety inducing to you, however, was the promise you’d made with Mingyu the week prior, to be finished with the book by the end of today so you could finally decide whether the end was worth it or not. The thought has you nearly picking up a copy off the shelf anyway, annotations be damned. Force of habit, however, forbids you as you are shunned by yourself to play solitaire for the rest of the day.

Things seem to look up for you though, as you find yourself reading a text from Mingyu nearly halfway through your day.

You hadn’t spoken to Mingyu at all for the entire week, caving when you found an excuse to finally talk to him to ask where he’d left off on the book. It was even longer before that, reaching the near three week mark where you were virtually zero contact.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you, his sudden absence raising a mild panic within you as your mind raced with the possibilities.

Was he uncomfortable with you?

Was he avoiding you?

Were you less low key than you thought? Was he catching on to how you still weren’t over him?

The wilder thoughts seemed to be laid to rest when you couldn’t take it anymore, texting under the guise of your mutual book topic. Your brain still couldn’t handle it, picking up minuscule details in his texting behavior. Perhaps his replies were choppy, perhaps they were shorter than usual, but it was enough to give your mind the rest it needed regardless of whatever the facts were.

Needless to say, you were more than happy to receive a text from him first after weeks, immediately replying.

[Mingyu]: hey [Mingyu]: are you at work today? [You]: yeah [You]: i get off at 10 tho [Mingyu]: can i see you today?

You try to contain the growing flurry of excitement as you type. It was easier to stay casual over text, you find yourself appreciating.

[You]: course [You]: are you coming to the store? [Mingyu]: i’ll meet you at your place when you get off [You]: okay!!! [You]: see you then

There’s a ghost of a smile on your face as you switch to playing computer chess in celebration. Your day was going horribly, but perhaps it was to balance out the happiness you were feeling at the thought of seeing Mingyu in person after nearly a month.

Were you being dramatic? Possibly. But you figured you’d been left waiting long enough. You let yourself have a spring in your step for the rest of the day, closing up nearly an hour early as you practically skipped back home, enjoying the significantly better nightly weather. Maybe you were abusing your employee privileges, but you couldn’t take the anticipation anymore.

Humming to yourself, you're hopping into the shower as soon as you get home, wanting to freshen up as quickly as possible before he gets here. It was near heaven’s plan the way the day is unfolding for you. Perhaps the universe knew you needed the time to unwind today, bringing Mingyu to you despite the near four week gap.

Grabbing your pens and your book, you settle on the kitchen counter to do something you’d been looking forward to all day, nearly giddy that Mingyu would be joining you to wind down with you soon enough. You’re invested by the time the doorbell rings, a simultaneous text from Mingyu, confirming that he was at the door.

Opening the front door is probably the easiest thing you’ve done all day, grin at the ready as you greet him.

“Hey,” you breathe out at the sight of him.

“Hi,” he replies, slipping inside as you give him space to take off his shoes.

Leading him into the kitchen, you comment lightheartedly, “Nice to see you’re still alive.”

He chuckles slightly at that, “Yeah…sorry about that. I’ve been pretty caught up with…stuff.”

“The exhibition? Weren’t you nearly done with that?” you question as you pass him a glass of water.

He takes a sip before setting it down again, both hands holding the cup on the counter. “It wasn’t that, I’ve been done for a while. Just waiting.”

“It’s next week, isn’t it?”

He hums in response, taking another minuscule sip of water.

“What was it that was keeping you this occupied for so long then?” you continue with a slight snort, trying not to over analyze his slightly…off putting behavior.

“Uh,” he starts, “Is Seokmin home?”

“Seokmin?” you frown, confused. Was he here to see your brother? “He’s out. I thought you knew.”

“Yeah, I know. Just confirming.”

“Oh.” You sit down on your own chair at the counter, trying to make sense of his mood.

“Mingyu, are you okay—”

“I need to talk to you.”

“O-okay.”

It’s silent. Painfully so.

“I don’t know how else to bring this up so I’m just gonna cut to the chase.”

There’s no reply from your end as you simply stare at him in anticipation, wondering what on earth had him looking this serious as he faces you in his seat.

“I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you. Never enough to match what you’ve felt, but I know you’ve been through the muck because of me, and it makes me feel horrible that I was the cause of something like that.”

“Mingyu—“

“I want to apologize, before I say anything else. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. And I know an apology isn’t gonna take away what I did to you, but I just need you to know that I’m really, really sorry.”

His breathing is heavy as he talks, while yours is near nonexistent as you need to remind yourself to breathe manually.

“I’ve done a lot of growing up in the past year. And I hate myself for making you a subject of that transition when you were the last person that deserved it. I’m happy to say that won’t happen again, because I’ve learned my lesson. For good.”

He pauses.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, because… because I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve it for what I’m about to say. I may be acting selfish right now but, I think you deserve to know after everything.”

“I love you. I love you so, so much it hurts. I…I’m sorry, I love you. I don’t know how else to say it but, I love you. And I might be hurting you even more with this but I swear I’m not lying. I love you.”

There’s tears now, heavy ones that drip down his face as he refuses to look back up at you, eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to halt the pure emotion that’s trailing down.

You have your own wet cheeks, glossy, shaking eyes that don’t tear away from his hunched form. You’re listening. You’re listening to everything and it’s too much.

“Mingyu,” you whisper. You give up on trying to talk as you let out a breath that sounds almost like a sob.

It’s silent for a few more moments as you absorb everything that’s happening, mind running a hundred miles an hour yet, still as a rock. It’s too much.

“Mingyu, I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.” Your voice is quivering, but you manage the words. “After everything. You’re standing in this very kitchen and saying this to me.”

The deja vu was overwhelming, and you’re projected back to last year when the both of you stood on these very tiles, as you poured your heart out to the man in front of you, only to be told you were an idiot to think he could ever love you like that. The words may not have been said, but the message was clear: you were not made for Kim Mingyu.

And yet, you find yourself in front of an apologetic man, expressing his remorse. And oozing love for you, of all people. Why now? You want to scream. Where was this when you were ready to take him so willingly in your arms.

You’re lying if you say you still don’t want to plant yourself in his hold to sob out your own wretched “I love you”’s. You wanted to go to him. To take what you’ve wanted for so, so long.

But you can’t. You can’t do it.

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m not asking you to do something about any of this. I’m not asking anything of you at all. I just need you to know.”

You bite back a remark, trying so hard to calm yourself down.

“I think you should go.” Your voice breaks. “Please.”

Mingyu is gone. But his scent lingers. His cup remains on the counter, the same one he put his lips to. As he prepared to speak, and speak, and speak.

You can’t stand to stay in the kitchen anymore.

You were fourteen the first time Mingyu broke your heart.

It was an accident, perhaps, considering you were willing to do absolutely anything to be around Mingyu when your brother would have him over. What you didn’t know this time, was that the both of them had company.

Tiptoeing down the hall was easy the second you heard your brother's voice coming from the kitchen, announcing that he was getting drinks for them. The plan was simple; walk in under the guise of being annoyed at Seokmin for something and then relish when Mingyu would defend you from his inevitable rage — except this time you’d have a few extra minutes alone with him before your brother trudged back.

Putting on the best annoyed face you could, you stalk past Seokmin’s room, immediately wishing you hadn’t. Mingyu was in your brother's room as expected, sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers with numbers and letters too complex. But he wasn’t alone. There was a girl that sat between his legs, turned over in his arms as they whisper to each other. They weren’t studying at all; the giggles and smiles were a dead giveaway.

You halt in your tracks at the edge of the doorway in mild disbelief, brain computing the situation in front of you. They hadn’t noticed you yet, it was apparent with the way she leans into him to place her lips on his in a peck.

There’s a yell of your name behind you as Seokmin sees you loitering around his room. You jump in surprise, not expecting him back so quickly. Your brother, too, isn’t alone, a girl of his own accompanying him with her arms full of cans, peeking over his shoulder to catch sight of your distressed form.

“What’re you doing?”

Running was the worst thing you could do, and yet you found yourself doing just that in your cornered state. Catapulting face first into your pillows, the sobs coming before you could muffle them. It was humiliating, even more so when you feel your mother’s hand coming up to your shoulder in a stretch of comfort.

“I yelled at him, he won’t do it again!” she attempted to reason with you, trying endlessly to get you to emerge from your cavern of comforters.

“It’s not that!” you groan.

“What is it then? Darling, I won’t know if you won’t tell me.”

Your mother gave up a little bit after that, and your brother had apologized for yelling at you; apologized for all the wrong reasons. You brushed him over.

There were worse things circling your mind in that moment, like the image of Mingyu in a liplock with another girl, the image of him holding her with all his limbs.

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

“What the fuck, is wrong with the both of you?” Your brother swoops in like a pesky seagull and snatches the book right out of your hands, eyes blown in exasperation.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Give it back!” you yell, reaching for the book that he’s placed over his head. Climbing the couch does little when he simply moves away from you.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on between you and Mingyu.”

“Nothing is — ugh,” you drop back onto the couch in frustration. You take a deep breath. “Nothing is going on. Now can I have my fucking book back?”

“No, you're avoiding each other.”

“He’s your friend, why would I hang out with him?”

“Stop dodging the question!” he spits.

“Stop dodging.” You exclaim as you jump for the book another time.

“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” He throws the book to the corner of the room. It takes every fiber in your body to stop yourself from plucking every strand of hair off his head.

“Seokmin!” you scream.

“Your book’s fine. Is this about the guy you told me about?” He asks, hands grabbing you by the upper arms, forcing you to look at him.

“No, it’s not,” you grit.

“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” he repeats, making direct eye contact.

“Because,” you start, exhaling deeply, “I’m tired.”

“It’s an exhibition for fucks sake, an exhibition with your face plastered all over it. You go in for five minutes and you’re out. Put something on and let’s go!”

“I don’t want to go.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer. You’ve been doing nothing but go to work and stay home, you need air.”

“I need you out of my air,” you swat his hands away, thoroughly disgruntled.

“I’m giving you twenty minutes.”

He was serious, you realize as he begins to pound on your door with two minutes left to spare. You decided you weren’t about to be embarrassing and show up in your sweatpants, encasing the final shreds of dignity you had left. You couldn’t imagine being asked “who?” when the face on the walls doesn’t match with the one you brought to the place, not doubting the number of fancy scouters that’d be gracing the crowd tonight.

Opting for a plain black dress and a coverup felt enough for you, your usual makeup and matching accessories helping you feel better about the bags under your eyes your concealer couldn’t quite erase.

Seokmin says nothing for probable fear of having you landing back on the couch, choosing to ask you a simple, “Ready?” instead.

The drive is short and silent, the remnants of you and your brother's prior argument still hanging in the air. You weren’t about to apologize to each other, but you would let the hours cool you off before you’re back to your normal selves. For now, you’re glad to step out of the stuffy car, the anticipation having you needing to breathe in an elevated sense.

The place is more crowded than you thought it would be, men and women in fancier than necessary clothes loitering the entrance carpeting. You suddenly feel underdressed.

Catching Mingyu’s name is easy, the display at the front doing the most to highlight the star of the night, catching sight of him is proving a little more difficult. Not that you’re trying, but Seokmin’s embarrassing neck stretches are having you restraining yourself from pulling him down by the collar.

Walking into the display is a strange experience, for you at least. The pictures are larger than you’d thought they would be, spanning the giant walls of the gallery. Your face is huge.

There’s a few other one’s that scatter between the portraits, beautiful all the same. You find yourself wandering as you note the plaques next to the pieces, descriptions and words from the artist; Mingyu’s words. It’s easy to begin looking at the pictures through his eyes, the meticulous scanning you’re doing proving easier for you to zone out despite the crowd.

You’ve gone through nearly every picture, approaching the last one, the one that looked a little more important than the rest as you take in its size. The steps you take towards the plaque are halted as you hear someone calling for you. You recognize his voice, how could you not?

Mingyu is weaving through the crowd to get to you, eyes locked as he tries to make way for himself. Your mouth is open by the time he’s here, mind frantic as you try to figure out what you should say.

Congratulations.

You’ve worked hard on this.

This looks great.

How’ve you been?

“You’re here,” he says, simple as that.

“I’m here,” you breathe out, a nervous smile on your face as you look down at your shoes.

“Seok told me you were here too.”

Your head snaps up, “You were looking for me?”

“I mean, it’s a bit difficult with the crowd—”

“Oh,” you cut him off before you could forget. “Congratulations, by the way. The turnout looks great.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s great.” His eyes skim around the large hall.

You hate how his craning is drawing your eyes to everything else. So to say the plain black button up and slacks he’s sporting, the thin chain he wears around the unbuttoned collar. You hate how he’s put in no effort, and you hate how it makes him look even better somehow.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks after he rounds back to you.

Your reply is drowned in your throat as somebody calls for him across the hall, pointing at a mic in their hands.

“I have to go address everyone, you’ll be here, right?” he asks, but he once again has no chance to listen to your answer when somebody physically drags him by the elbow and yanks him away from you. You lose sight of him in the crowd of people, his face disappearing.

It gives you enough opportunity to slowly turn around to go back to your plaque reading, exhaling loudly as you walk up to the final, biggest piece on the wall. It’s labeled as the focal point of the collection. It’s a picture of you, and for some reason, you can’t remember taking it, or posing for it at all.

You recognize the mountain top, more so the grueling trek up the place for your last shoot with him. It’s a side profile, your arms folding over the railing, face tucked into your padded arms. A single ray of light illuminates your eyes, the background soft.

The picture was an accident. A moment that may have gone forgotten, yet one that appeared right when it was meant to. A mistake made on purpose, one that manages to carry the weight of years. A slow accession of golden rays, dawn illuminating the subject in hues indescribable, except those that describe a feeling. A feeling in turn, indescribable.

Soft. Legible. New.

You take a step back.

And another

Then another.

You look at the picture, the picture of you. Taken the one time you weren’t actively posing for the camera, the one time he wasn’t meant to take a picture of you. It landed here, at the seemingly deserved position of a final piece. The piece that was meant to emulate all that the artist wanted to come out of his work.

You crane your neck up higher, the name of the collection in bold block letters right above the picture that supposedly says it all.

THE BEGINNING

There’s a ball forming in your throat, one that's cementing itself where it stays.

There’s noise happening in your peripherals, somebody speaking into a mic on stage. You’re not paying attention until you hear his name.

“I’m pleased to present to you the man of the hour, mister Kim Mingyu…”

You watch with glossy eyes as he takes the stand, clearing his throat before he begins to speak.

You needed to leave.

Finding Seokmin is easy, and you thank every plane of heaven that it is, considering you’d rather be caught dead than be seen red nosed and teary eyed.

“Let’s go home.”

“Huh? Right now? He just started talking.” Seokmin argues, tearing his eyes away from the stage to gape at you, only to note the expression on your face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Seokmin, you said five minutes.” You grip his sleeve tight. “Please, either give me the keys, or I’ll get a cab.”

He pauses for a moment, and you immediately hate yourself for making him choose between staying for his best friend or leaving for his sister. He slowly comes down to grip your hand, pulling you away.

“Let me drop you off home.”

You’ve calmed down a significant amount during the car ride home, managing to convince (fight) Seokmin into going back to the exhibition hall before Mingyu noticed that he was gone. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you made him miss something as important as this just because you couldn’t control your emotions.

He hugs you at the door, tight, and you hug back just as strong, holding back the river of tears that suddenly threaten to let loose. He presses his lips to your temple, muttering a little ‘I love you’ before he leaves. He knew nothing, yet was ready to comfort you like he did.

You let yourself sob after that, as wracking and strong as they’d come. It’s freeing, to fall to your knees and simply cry like a child. You aren’t sure what it is that you’re crying about, yet you know all the same. The thought of both those things make your head begin to spin, causing another fresh wave of tears to come rushing down.

Remnants of the day Mingyu spoke his truth to you in your own kitchen come tumbling back; the shock, the anger, the hurt, and despite everything, the love.

You loved Mingyu, you weren’t going to sit here and deny it when you were a mess of jewels on the floor with only his face at the forefront of your mind. You’re a liar if you say you don’t love him. You’re a liar if you say you’ll ever stop.

Years and years of pining and wishing and praying, to hope that one day, Mingyu would open his eyes with the realization that he loves you the same.

The day came. Your prayers were granted, your wishes came true; you no longer had to sit on the sidelines as an ignored constant. And yet, you found yourself wanting to be anywhere but in his presence as the prayer unfolded.

Were you too weak to handle reciprocation? Have you gotten comfortable pining by yourself? Or was it something completely else. Were you still hurt by his words? Were you aghast at his audacity to have the courage to speak his heart to you, when you went years without doing so?

Were you protecting yourself? Or were you actively throwing the golden chance you’d received right out the window?

You’re tired, it’s evident with the effort it takes you to simply reach your bedroom, heels thrown somewhere in the doorway as you made the trek barefooted. Hoping your muscles would release the pent up tension at the learnt feeling of the mattress, you find yourself closing your eyes awaiting the relief.

Still clad in your dress and makeup, you attempt to find the solace of sleep, knowing you’d feel nothing if there was nothing to perceive. The universe doesn’t seem to want to give you that luxury, your eyes wide awake despite closed lids. The thoughts aren’t showing signs of slowing down either, every part of your mind alive as you remain still as a rock on your bed.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been in bed, but as you hear the distinct jingle of keys in a lock, you know Seokmin is home. The door of your room is opened very quietly, and closed just as quick when he sees your form in bed seemingly asleep.

You open your eyes for the first time in hours, the darkness remaining as you slowly sit up against the cushions. Your movements are sluggish as you stare into the abyss, brain quiet for once as you swing your bare legs over the mattress, slowly trudging down the hall to your brother's bedroom.

Knocking slowly, you hear a slight shuffle before the door is opened, the light from inside the room illuminating the dark hall and forcing you to squint.

“Did I wake you?” Seokmin asks, sporting formal trousers with his dinosaur pajama shirt.

“Uh, no, I was awake.”

“Why haven’t you changed yet?”

You ignore him, cutting straight to the chase, “Can I borrow your car?”

There’s silence for nearly three seconds before Seokmin speaks, “What on earth do you need my car for this late at night?”

“Nayeon’s”

“Bullshit.”

You let out a loud, loud sigh, “Will you believe it for now?”

Your brother looks at you with an expression you can’t really pinpoint, eyes like he’s scanning into your soul. “The keys are at the door.”

You walk back to your room to grab your phone and your cover up, not bothering to change as you grab Seokmin’s keys and leave. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave the house so late at night, but your brain seems to have activated tunnel vision as you nearly stalk towards the car. You’re pulling up to where you need to be within minutes, the empty roads leading you on near autopilot.

By the time you’re standing in front of the door, your desire to settle this once and for all turns pungent in your head. You needed to end this one way or another, you were tired of running in circles.

Ringing the doorbell is easy, it’s just the realization that settles during those few moments of waiting that grab you by the throat. You were really doing this.

Mingyu opens the door quicker than you’d anticipated, after briefly wondering if he’d already gone to sleep after the long day he’s probably had. His brows furrow as he registers you at his door, your name tumbling out of his lips in mild confusion. He’s still in the clothes you saw him last, and you doubt it’s been long since he got home too.

“Promise me you mean it,” you say.

“What?”

“Promise me you mean it.”

“Mean what?” The crease between his brows deepens as he tries to make sense of what you’re saying.

“Whatever you said. Promise me you mean it. Promise me. On all the years we spent together, on every truth you've ever said to me. Promise on me that you mean it.”

The silence is deafening, yet you wait. You wait for him to respond. You wait for him to understand what you’re saying.

Mingyu gulps before opening his door wider, expression neutralizing slightly as he invites you inside. “Why're you standing on the door? Come inside.”

“I’m not taking another step in your direction, Kim Mingyu, not until you answer me,” you snap.

Letting his hand leave the grip on the door, he brings them both up to rub at his face, taking a simultaneous breath, deep and shaky. When he emerges his eyes are showing a hint of red as he licks his lips.

Your grip on your own fingers tighten as Mingyu talks.

“I want to rip my heart out for what it wants from you. I want to rip it out for what it did to yours. Believe me when I say I’ve forgotten how it felt to be this sincere. I love you. I don't deserve to say it, but I love you.”

There’s a beat that passes, one that you barely feel as you throw your bag on the floor of his entryway, grabbing him by the collar with both hands as you yank his face down to hover right in front of yours, nose touching, lips not quite.

“If you’re lying to me,” you whisper, shaky voiced, “I’m gonna chop your balls off.”

Mingyu answers for you as he finally, finally closes the cursed gap between you, lips capturing yours in a long awaited kiss. You let him pull you inside as you move your lips against each other, the distinct click of the door signaling you were finally inside.

His hands grip your hips and waist in a manner that’s near painful, yet you can’t find yourself complaining even as he pushes you against the now closed door, hard. His mouth leaves yours for what is barely a second, before your desperate hands move his face back in to continue what you’ve been wanting to do for years.

His mouth is warm, the vaguest hint of champagne on his tongue. You wonder how many toasts he’s clinked and downed, how many times he thought of you as he celebrated.

“I love you,” you mumble against his lips.

Mingyu’s hands are pushing your body against his own, so flush and tight you can barely breathe. Like he’d rather die than bring space between the two of you in that moment.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled back between kisses. “I love you so much.”

Both of your hands are beginning to roam, less innocent than the fingers tangled in his hair and digging into his shoulders, less innocent than the grips on your hips and neck. It isn’t until his hands are groping your ass that you begin to subconsciously tug at his shirt, wanting the wretched thing out of the way to finally feel him in full.

There’s a warm hand that grips yours as he stops you, lips pulling away slightly as he rests his forehead against yours. There’s a wild moment of sobriety as you wonder if you’ve read the situation wrong, if you pushed too far.

“You’re asking me for something I’m ready to give you.” He sounds breathless. “But I need to know if you really want it.”

He looks absolutely gorgeous with his swollen lips, your lipstick staining his own mouth, his messy hair from all the desperate fingers running through them. It takes one look into his bedroom eyes to have your yeses tumbling out your mouth.

“I want it. I want it if you’ll give it to me. Mingyu, please.”

He leans in to give you a soft peck before pulling away slowly. “You can stop me whenever, just say the word.”

He’s facing you as he speaks, hands pulling you further into the house in slow and steady steps. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, I promise.”

By the time you reach the four walls of his bedroom, you’re itching to have his hands on you again, something he senses as he presses his hot mouth to your awaiting lips. His touches become decreasingly respectful as his hands run up your sides, thumbs brushing against the sides of your clothed breasts as he moves his mouth further down.

Kisses line your jaw, reaching the joint as he nips at your earlobe teasingly. Pushing the coverup off of your shoulders is easy, fingers tracing the exposed skin as his mouth moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking teasingly. Your breathing is embarrassingly heavy.

“You’re gorgeous,” you hear him breathe out.

His fingers fit under the zipper of your dress not too long after, pulling it down to reveal your back tantalizingly slow. His hands smooth over your waist once he reaches the bottom, bringing them up to your upper body as you feel his palms grab your breasts in a soft squeeze. The moan you let out is small, but enough to encourage him to bring his hands to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders one after the other.

“Do you realize how good you looked in this today,” he says. “Was so happy you came, so, so happy to see you after so long.”

Mingyu kisses you again in a slow, passionate manner, hands pushing down the tight fabric of the bodice to let it fall off your body to a pile on the floor. It leaves you bare save for your bra and panties.

Mingyu lets out a groan at the sight in the dimly lit room, the sound checking in as one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard, the vibrations leading straight to your core like they belonged there. The focus goes back to his hands that continue to roam your body, mouth traveling further south to leave hot, open mouthed kisses on your cleavage.

Your own fingers come up to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt, managing to pull a couple loose as you whine, “Mingyu.”

“Patience, my love.” He moves you backwards slowly as his mouth leaves your chest, pushing you into the plush of his mattress as you feel the back of your knees bump into the edge. “Let me take my time with you.”

He brings a knee up to the bed as he keeps his gaze on you, beginning to unbutton the rest of his shirt as you prop yourself up on your elbows. For once, you’re allowed to stare at the sculpt of his chest and abdomen, letting your gaze take you to the dipped V before the cut off. The mere sight of his fingers working against his belt have you needing to close your thighs for the sake of your now throbbing core.

Only clad in his dark boxers, you let him climb over you in a way you can only describe as a prowl, inserting himself between your legs as he pushes your head up to the headboard. The hand that splays out on your thigh is having the muscle twitch, the anticipation for what he might do next gripping you.

“Let me get this off of you,” he says with his hands toying with the elastic of your bra, prompting you to arch your back so he could reach under to unclasp it in a way you can only call professional.

There’s barely any time for you to feel a semblance of embarrassment when he flings the padding away, mouth coming in direct contact with your breast in a harsh suck. The feeling has you moaning his name into the dark room, only encouraging his wet tongue to circle around the bud before going back to suckling. He doesn’t forget your other breast as he brings his hand up to squeeze the mound and play with your nipples the same.

The sensations are overwhelming already, your hands gripping his hair in desperation as you throw your head back at his ministrations. The ache in your underwear is becoming increasingly difficult to resist, the foreign feeling of his mound against your inner thigh only coursing more want into your awaiting heat.

Your chest is a mess of redness and saliva but the time Mingyu’s had his fill, pulling away to admire the work he’s left.

“Fuck, Mingyu, please,” his name is the only thing that comes out in your pleas, hoping he’d give you wanted before you lost your mind for good.

“I love this lighting on you,” he says simply, moving to sit on his knees as he takes his eyes up and down your practically naked frame.

Both hands come in to push your thighs further apart, giving him better access to the gold that sits right in between. “You’re beautiful.”

You feel the pad of his thumb come in contact with your clit in the lightest pressure, slowly brushing over the muscle as he continues. “The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

He presses his thumb in further, pushing down to meet your hole, the source of the large wet patch on the fabric of panties. The whimpers the new feeling is having you let out are near embarrassing. Hooking his fingers around your panties, he asks, “Can I take these off?”

“Yes!” you gasp out immediately, hip rising to let them slide the pesky fabric off and away.

He wastes no time in bringing his fingers to your folds, gathering your arousal in his fingers as he spreads them across your throbbing clit. He’s rubbing the area in circular motions, the feeling having you wracking out sounds you never thought you could make. The sheets are bunched up in your grip as you throw your head back at the feeling that encases you, eyes screwed shut.

“Oh, Mingyu,”

That only encourages him as his other hand joins the party, a lone finger circling your entrance in preparation to plunge into you, slowly, all the way to the hilt of his finger. Zoning in on the feeling, the pump of his fingers into your core, the constant ministrations of his other thumb on your clit. Your hands leave his wrinkled sheets as they come in to grip his wrists and forearm, needing to feel his skin to anchor yourself into the present. Not being able to bring yourself to open your eyes, he takes it upon himself to insert another finger, encouraging your lids to fly open at the stretch and the loud moan that comes with it.

“God, you’re so fucking wet, I’m barely pushing.” It may have embarrassed you a little if you weren’t so withdrawn from pleasure, the prospect only having you whimper his name even more.

It isn’t when he curls his fingers inside you that you feel the need to stifle the sounds that come out of your throat, hand to mouth as the volume has you needing to shut yourself up. He brings his hand off your clit to grab you by the wrist, freeing your mouth of restraint.

“Don’t,” his voice gravelly as he gets off his knees to hover over you, his other hand continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you in perfect motions. “I wanna hear your voice. I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you’re making.”

He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your mouth, fingers quickening their pace as your sounds grow louder, “Mingyu, I think I’m…I think I’m close.”

“It’s okay, let go whenever, darling, it’s okay.” His other hand goes back to its rightful position on your clit, thumb circling the bud in quick motions as he encourages you to climax.

And you do. The blissful release comes crashing into you hard, the feeling leaving nothing but white hot space in the expanse of your brain, letting the feeling take over as you melt into the sheets. “F-fuck…”

He doesn’t stop either hand till you physically have to push his fingers off of you, the overstimulation coming in hot.

You don’t come around for a little bit, but feel every searing kiss he leaves on your skin in the aftermath. Pressed into your chest, your collarbones, you neck and your jaw. He makes his way up to your face slowly, pressing his lips onto your closed lids as you wait for your breathing to even out. His face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, leaning forward to press your own lips against his.

“How was that?” he asks slowly, and you don’t miss the hint of a smirk on his face. You can’t help but break into a smile of your own.

“Great.”

“Great?”

“Amazing.” You lean in to kiss him again, palms coming in contact with the expanse of his back as you move your mouths together. It’s not long before your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, hands coming up front to feel him through the fabric, palming him in the process.

You feel him shudder in your hold, lips pulling away as he stares into your eyes.

“What?” you ask in a whisper when he makes no other moves.

“I’m trying to think if I have condoms or not,” he whispers back, and you can’t help but let out a laugh at his delivery. He begins to giggle with you, backing up as he reaches over to rummage through his nightstand.

“Fuck yeah,” you hear him say as he comes round with the shiny pack. He’s giggling as he undoes the wrapper, the lighthearted nature of it all bringing a laugh to your own lips.

Pulling his underwear down and off, you watch as he preps himself with the rubber, your own hand coming up in a trance to stroke his gorgeous length lightly, his palms ghosting over your hand at the feeling. Once he decides he can’t take it anymore he’s grabbing both your wrists to pin them beside your head in one swift motion, earning a gasp from you at the abruptness.

“I’m gonna put the tip in first, let you adjust before I go in further,” he explains as he uses his knee to push your thighs apart to grant him more access. “I’m gonna listen to you throughout, okay? Just say so if you want me to stop, I’ll hear you.”

When you don’t reply he continues, “I need to know you heard me, baby.”

“I heard you,” you answer, and he finally lets go of one of your hands to guide his length to your entrance, gathering your remaining arousal. He’s sliding his tip across your folds, grinding onto your clit within his length and it has you nearly careening off the edge.

“Mingyu, in, please!” you beg, and you hear him chuckle before he’s finally pressing the tip into your prepped hole.

You almost breathe a sigh of relief as you feel him begin to push into your hot core, keeping his promise of only getting to the tip, before bringing himself out and going back in. He’s slow as he stretches you out, his hands coming up to the sides of your head as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. Lifting one of your legs, you wrap them around his waist as you grant him further access into you, one of his hands coming up to keep your raised leg steady.

He halts when he finally bottoms out, pausing for breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just,” you manage, arms wrapped around his shoulders tight. “Give me a second.”

When you give him the green light and he begins to move out slowly, only to thrust back in, you find yourself settling into the sheets more consciously, ready to take what he was about to finally give you. You’re both a mess of whimpers and sounds, the feeling overtaking any shreds of restraint you had left. His hands are groping you everywhere, his fingers finding your breasts again as he begins to toy with your nipples, all while thrusting into you at a steady yet equally maddening pace.

He feels amazing, beyond just his dick. The feeling of his body pressed against yours is heavenly, the tears beginning to slowly prick at your eyes as you let yourself melt into his hold, a metaphorical layer away from morphing into his skin entirely. The sounds he’s making are pure melodies, the groans, grunts and heavy moans floating around in your otherwise empty head like they’d never ever leave. They do more when they encourage the building feeling in your abdomen, your moans growing increasingly erratic.

If the bed is creaking from his incessant thrusting, you don’t hear it. The only thing ringing in your head being the near closure you’re about to receive from him. “Gyu, I’m…”

“Shit, me too.” he grunts, and you believe him as his movements begin to grow sloppier, his hips slamming into yours with more force than before.

And then it’s bliss, the feeling dropping in on your body as you feel yourself begin to spasm in his hold, the loudest moan ripping from your throat at the sensation. You’re contracting around him so, so good, and it’s enough to have him moaning into your own ear as he feels his climax come over him as well.

He’s shooting his load into the rubber, and for a wild moment you wish he’d rip it off and finish inside you instead, your blabbering brain wanting to take all of him in. The fever passes in a few heavy minutes, Mingyu’s body is dropped on top of you, his length remaining inside your warmth as you both relished in the post sex haze.

He’s first to pick his sweltering body off of yours, the cool air hitting your skin as he pulls out of you slowly. You’re still trying to come to earth, even when you hear the water beginning to run in the attached bathroom, even when he walks out in a fresh pair of boxers, walking over to your form on the bed.

His fingers run through your hair as he places soft kisses on your temple, coaxing you to open your eyes. “Come on babe. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

When you make no moves to get up despite opening your eyes, he’s physically pulling you up to grace your head on his chest in an effort to take a step back into the world. His fingers continue to thread through your hair, massaging your head lightly as you breathe in his scent. You do end up getting up and letting him lead you to the bathroom, but only after he threatens to carry you there over his shoulder. The bath is already drawn when you dip your feet into the warm water, planting yourself inside as you lean against the walls of the tub.

“Gyu, why is it warm?” you whine, wanting a cooler temperature to hit your sticky body.

He chuckles as he sits by the tub, hands coming in to wet your hair for you, “I’m scared your body’s gonna go into shock if I chucked you into a cold bath. You’ll feel better in a minute, love.”

You don’t argue as he does most of the work for you, shampooing, scrubbing and conditioning. He lets you sit in the tub for a little bit as he leaves to get you a towel and a shirt, coming back to continue coaxing you to leave the tub this time. You grab his outstretched hand, pulling him down to sit next to you again.

“Sit with me for a little bit, right here,” you say as you lean over the edge of the tub.

“I can sit with you in bed once you’re dried up,” he tries to reason. “Under the covers. Where it’s more comfortable than hard acrylic, remember?”

Pouting a little, you let him wrap you in a towel as you admit defeat, too tired to argue much more than that. He continues to shrug one of shirts over your shoulders, going as far as drying your hair before finally letting you crawl back under the covers. He joins you soon after, wrapping his limbs around you in a tight embrace, breathing in the mix of his own shampoo and your scent.

“Are you okay? Did I do too much?” he asks quietly.

“Mhm,” you hum into his chest. “I’m okay.”

There’s a deep vibration in his chest as he finds your lack of response amusing, looking at your face that looks about three seconds away from slipping into dreamland. Nearly, he realizes, as your eyes are suddenly pushed wide open, a gasp leaving your throat.

“What? What?” Mingyu asks as you sit up all of a sudden scrambling to find your phone.

“My phone, where is it?” you ask as you ruffle through the covers.

“Did you bring it with you?”

You suddenly remember your bag that you threw in his entryway a couple hours ago, your phone nestled inside. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you attempt to stand up to retrieve it, only to find out the universe wasn’t about to let you do that. You don’t miss Mingyu’s chortle as he watches you nearly fall over after wobbling around like a fawn, your arms trembling as you pull yourself up back on the bed.

“What the fuck?” you breathe out.

“Get back on, I’ll get your bag for you.” He’s still smiling when returns, throwing your purse on the bed.

You immediately unlock your phone to find Nayeon’s contact, choosing to leave her a text considering the late hour.

“What is it?” Mingyu asks again as he watches you type, arms coming up from behind to engulf you in his hold again.

“I told Seokmin I was at Nayeon’s. He didn’t believe me but I’m telling her to cover for me anyway.”

“Oh.”

The thought comes to you later than it should have, realizing you’d have to involve Seokmin in…whatever this was, sooner or later.

“Don’t,” you hear Mingyu say behind you.

“What?”

“Don’t. I know what you’re thinking about. We can deal with Seokmin when we need to, don’t think about it right now, that’s my job.”

“I-”

“He needs to deal with me being serious about you,” he continues, giggling, “Even if I have to make you run away with me.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

He brings your wrist up to his mouth, placing a kiss there, “It won’t. I promise.”

The sitting up thing doesn’t last for too long, both of you wanting nothing more than to lay down for the lack of energy. Limbs are a tangled mess as you both lay in silence, tired but not wanting to go to sleep just yet. It stays that way for a while, head on his chest as you take in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

You just had sex with Kim Mingyu. He loves you back. And you know he means it. This isn’t a hyperrealistic childhood fantasy, this is real life. You’re touching him, he’s holding you, you can hear his heart beat, you can feel his skin under the palm of your hand.

You’re distracted from your thoughts as you sense Mingyu reaching over the edge of the bed to his nightstand as he looks for something, bringing his hand over to show you a very familiar pink cover in his hands.

“Oh,” you let out as you recognize the title, snorting as you remember where the verdict for that ended, “We were supposed to talk about the ending.”

“We could do that right now.”

“Uh, about that,” you say. “I never actually got to finish it.”

“You were supposed to be done like two weeks ago,” he frowns.

“I didn’t get to finish it the day…the day you came over. Couldn’t bring it in myself to touch it after that.” you say as you note the little tabs sticking out the sides, wanting to address them.

“You can use this one to finish it then, it’s yours.”

You glance up at him as he talks, opening the book to skim through the pages. And then you see it, tiny scribbles on margins, sticky notes at chapter ends with his thoughts, colorful tabs sticking out of every highlighted line, everything complete with a color coded key in the front.

“I saw you do it with your other books, found out it’s not actually a crime to write in books and…I guess it became fun.” he explains as he watches you flick through the pages. “I was gonna give this to you at some point. Sounded like a thoughtful idea in my head.”

You don’t answer him, simply facing him in silence before continuing, “I would’ve been sucking your dick right now if I wasn’t so tired.”

He throws his head back in a loud laugh, the high pitched noise sounding across the room as he nearly curls up from the hilarity. You don’t think it was that funny, but maybe it’s because you were telling the truth. You’re pretty sure you’ve joked about wanting to do that to someone who’d do something like this for you, perhaps you could find the transcripts hidden in some text messages with Nayeon later to show Mingyu.

His laughter is contagious regardless, giggles of your own coming out as you watch him practically lose it.

“I think you need to go to sleep,” you comment through bouts of laughter.

He sighs a vocal sigh as he calms down slowly, agreeing with your suggestion that the near morning delirium was getting to both of your heads. You rest your newly acquired, yet equally prized possession to the side, finally turning in for the night as he reaches to turn his night lamp off.

Mingyu moves to press his forehead into yours, not before placing a tiny peck into your lips as he mumbles against them in the dark, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you hum back as you press your lips together one last time, finally letting his breathing lull you into sleep.

The mattress is foreign, so is the pillow, and so are the scents that linger in the room. It’s colder than you’d usually have it and the blankets feel different on your skin. And despite the most foreign thing in the room, the one that has his arms and legs wrapped around you, the one that whispered his love for you into your skin before drifting off, you find yourself falling into a sleep that’s more blissful than any you’ve had in a very, very long time.

The sun is doing nothing to help itself against the tide of annoyance tht rises in your sleepy state. You’d get up and yank the curtains but can’t bring yourself to have the motivation to leave the soft mattress, simply bunching the blanket up to your face to block out the remnants of sun rays that invade the room. You’ve nearly lulled yourself back to sleep when you start registering noises coming from outside the bedroom walls, muffled yet familiar.

Your brother is talking about something you can’t make out, Seokmin’s voice is undeniable despite passing through the folded layers of comforters around your head. You don’t doubt the presence of the sweat that’s probably already accumulated on your scalp.

There’s nothing that alarms you in the moment despite Seokmin’s yapping — that is until you hear a second voice.

You recognize it immediately as the sound of Mingyu’s talking, the words equally as muffled yet the intonation clear all the same.

Kicking the sheets off of your overheating body, you squint as you open your eyes in a desperate attempt to reign yourself back to earth, recollections of the past twenty four hours hurtling back to you like a constant line of K.O’s.

The gallery, the picture, the drive up to Mingyu’s place,the sex, the falling asleep in his arms. You sit up in Mingyu’s bed, clad in nothing but his own T-shirt as you realize your brother is downstairs talking to Mingyu, and you have no idea if he knows you're here.

You realize very quickly that you’re trapped, being left with no other option than to remain in Mingyu’s bedroom until he comes back up to give you the clear, despite wanting to walk out to take the tiniest peek. You’re not sure what’s worse, getting caught or sitting in the growing pool of anxiety before Mingyu gets back.

It’s a long, long twenty minutes, in which you’ve done just about everything to get to hear their conversation a bit better; or to distract yourself from the fact that it’s happening at all. Pressing your ear to the door before going back to make the bed. Freshening up in the bathroom before going back to jamming your eye into the keyhole (you aren’t sure why considering door faces a plain wall). You even hijacked a spare cup Mingyu had lying around the room to stick into the wall, hoping all those Mr. Bean cartoons hadn’t been lying to you.

They were simply talking in a tone too low for your ears to catch (despite the Mr. Bean hack), and you resorted to scrolling on your phone to pass the remaining time. It’s catastrophic to say the least, when you’re met with a string of frantic messages from Nayeon as well as a couple missed calls from your brother.

[Nayeon]: fuck [Nayeon]: i didnt see this [Nayeon]: he called this morning asking about you [Nayeon]: i accidentally told him you werent here [Nayeon]: im so sorry where are you [You]: its okay its my fault for texting so late [You]: i was at mingyus place [You]: ill tell you more later [Nayeon]: WHAT???

By the time Mingyu walks in, he’s mildly surprised to see you awake, pausing at the door as he takes in your huddled form. You sit up immediately, noting his still messy hair and the backwards sweatshirt he’s thrown on over his boxers. The question tumbles out of your lips before you can help it, “Was that Seokmin?”

“Good morning to you too,” he grumbles sarcastically, coming up on the bed to join you in your huddle fest. You’re a little embarrassed at the way you’ve greeted him first thing when he sees you, but his expression when he continues replaces it with something akin to fear. “And yeah, it was him.”

You want to ask him a follow up question, but you aren’t sure what to say, simply staring at him, hoping he’d get the hint and continue by himself. He does.

“The idiot has a spare key so he just…” He trails off, rubbing his hands on his face, “he just walked in straight to the room. Got the shock of his life, I suppose, ‘cause it woke me up while you kept snoring.”

“He walked into the room?!” you nearly screech, hand clamped over mouth, horrified. “What did he say to you?”

Mingyu has the audacity to laugh, simply tugging you back down on the bed to hold you. You briefly wonder how he’s so casual about this. “There’s not really an expected reaction from someone when they find you half naked in bed with their sister.”

The haphazardly shoved sweatshirt and no pants look was starting to make sense. “I heard you talking downstairs, what were you talking about?”

“Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about,” his lips graze the shell of your ear as he snuggles further into you. “He wants you home by seven though.”

You throw your head back in a whine, “God, what am I gonna do?”

“You’ll be fine, he didn’t smack me, he can’t possibly be that mad at you.”

“What was he then, ecstatic?” you retort.

“I mean,” his energy shifts a little. “I think he’s just a little hurt that he wasn’t told.”

“So you’ve done your damage control and now I need to pray he doesn’t disown me.”

“God, you’re being so negative,” he comments and you can’t help but round up on him.

“And you’re acting like you don’t care!”

He’s planting a fat kiss on your cheek at your outburst, coming in to coddle you even more. “I’m kidding, I just want you to relax, don’t be upset.”

“Has he given you his verdict yet?” you ask quietly.

He sighs at the question and you can’t imagine his answer being any good. “Not yet, pretty up in the air about it.”

When he sees you deflate even more in his arms, he continues, “I’m sure he’s gonna come around, he loves you too much to not. It’s just a matter of time while he gets to make sense of the situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I hope so,” you reply.

“We might have wash his socks for the next five years once he does, but it’s okay.”

You can’t help but snort at the prospect, “His feet are stinkier than the regular human’s, are you sure about that?”

He grins, “I’d do it for you.”

You push his face away, rolling your eyes at his attempt to be sappy. “You’re gonna keep me for five years?”

His smile drops as you feel the atmosphere shift in the slightest, his presence moving impossibly closer to you. “I’m gonna keep you forever.”

Hearing it is enough to have you lurching forward, closing the final gap between you so you can give in to the urge to kiss him. He’s enthusiastic to give back, pulling your body to face him entirely as you mumble between kisses, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

The rest of the day (once your anxiety’s calmed down, at least) is spent loitering around each other as you migrate around the house in random excess. He makes you breakfast, and you need to physically restrain him to stop feeding you every bite of pancake and bacon. You let him make your favourite for lunch though, after you finally admitted how much you truly liked his Chow Mein, going as far as to run to the store to grab the stuff he was missing. He returns with a bag of groceries, not missing an abnormal amount of moonpie value packs that he stashes in his cabinets because “you’re gonna be around all the time”.

6:30 rolls around quicker than either of you would have liked, needing to wiggle out of Mingyu’s hold on his couch to change out of your half naked state. He continues to delay you another ten minutes as he refuses to open his car door to let you walk into the apartment building, leaning over the console to continue mumbling whines between your own consoling kisses.

By the time you’re making the walk of shame up to your door, the pit of anxiety that began to brew this morning returns from its dormancy, no Mingyu here to help ease your nerves, Gripping your key tight in your hands, you brace yourself to jam and twist to finally end this matter once and for all (at least you hope you can).

Seokmin is waiting on the couch for arrival like a parent waiting to catch their child in the act. He briefly glances over at you as you whisper a tame “Hi”, slipping off your shoes. He doesn’t reply as he merely grabs the remote to pause his show, casting a heightened awkward atmosphere at the silence that’s now engulfing the room. You tread carefully over to the couch, where Seokmin sits with his arms crossed.

It takes one look at his face for you to suddenly want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. He didn’t look angry, and perhaps you would’ve preferred his aggression if it didn’t mean having to look at a hurt Seokmin. You sit in silence for a couple dramatic minutes, hoping he would start talking so you wouldn’t have to. Yet, when you realize you might have to say something anyway for fear of crushing under the pressure, you find yourself opening your mouth.

“Are you upset?” Of course, he’s upset, you idiot.

“I just–” he starts, before sighing. “I just wish one of you would’ve told me what was going on.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you reply. “I didn’t want either of you to have an excuse to be upset with each other, so I just…”

“I get that it was a recent thing but I think I deserved as much to know what was happening when I wasn’t around.”

You wince as speaks, realizing he hasn’t caught on to the fact that this isn’t recent at all — for you at least. “Um, about that…”

“What? There’s more?” he scoffs.

“I, uh…I’ve liked him since like fifth grade—” He’s immediately jaw dropped, eyes bulged, taking a sharp breath. “But! In my defense, it was really obvious—it’s honestly your fault for not noticing.”

‘My–My fault?!” he sputters. “That’s like, forever, and you told me nothing? Mingyu told me this was recent, why did he lie?”

“He didn’t, nothing happened till last night, I swear.” You cringe at what you’re entailing. “It was just me that liked him for that long, he figured it out pretty early on but…”

“He’s finally reciprocating now?” he suggests, almost sarcastically.

“Yeah,” you breathe out lightly.

“This is insane,” he blows out a breath of air, massaging his temples.

“I’m not being stupid about him,” you mutter lowly, “This isn’t some puppy dog crush, especially not after so long.”

He’s silent.

“I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m jumping into this blind, especially for what it means for you too.”

No response.

“I’m sorry that you had to find out like this, it’s really not how I wanted it to go.” And when you’re met with even more silence, you find yourself continuing. “Please, talk to me. Cuss me out if you want, I’d honestly rather you yell at me.”

Seokmin sighs for the near hundredth time, finally looking like he might say something. “I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, mind immediately going to the worst. Was he going to ask you to break up with him?

“I’m gonna choose to trust the both of you on this,” he starts, and you nearly melt into the cushions, “It’s your life, you can date whoever you want. And…I guess Mingyu is better than someone else. Probably uses bad hair gel though.”

You’re catapulting yourself off the couch at the sound of that, throwing yourself onto an unassuming Seokmin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“OW! Okay! Geez, get off,” he grumbles as he finally stops wrestling you to let go of him, hugging you back as you squeeze his shoulders tight.

“I promise I won’t keep anything like this from you again.”

“You better not,” he huffs as you let go of him, “Don’t think this means you’re forgiven. You still have a lot to tell me.”

“I promise I won’t leave out a thing.”

The following weeks are near bliss, following your very loud confrontation with Nayeon when she gets back from her summer vacation, her screams at every plot turn having you praying for her neighbors. You doubt she believed you despite everything, not until she physically sees Mingyu come in one day, making a beeline to peck you on the lips before greeting anyone else. Her dropped jaw was very telling.

Even now, as Mingyu sports the title of the lame alumnus that still hangs around campus as he grips your hand, walking through the grass, the double takes you’re receiving seem to be traveling quite fast. You wouldn’t necessarily blame them considering the trickier than usual dynamic you sport due to your brother (and you guess due to his reputation as well).

But you also knew they’d be quick to die out as the newer batches of students come flying in — Mingyu will soon become a very well kept secret, in one way if not the other.

His neighbors, however, must be wishing he had the same sentiment as well, considering the absolutely foul noises that are coming from his apartment.

You’re learning very quickly that Mingyu’s innocent touchiness can turn into something of the opposite at any given time, exhibit A being now as you try your damn hardest to muffle the sounds coming out of your mouth as Mingyu works his own mouth on your cunt. The knees over his shoulders are shivering from the expense, fingers pumping into your hole as he rubbed a particular spot with his tongue that had you gripping onto his hair tight.

As much as Mingyu loves to hear you, you find his other hand being brought up to place two fingers in your mouth for you as the perfect pacifier, sounds limiting extensively.

By the time you’re coming undone, sprawled on his couch like you just ran a marathon, you’re quick to realize that he has no intention of letting you have a breather. It takes one shove for him to pull his pulsing length out of his pants, tip pushing into your still sopping hole as he invited all of him inside you.

You’ll never forget the first time Mingyu fucked you raw, right after you told him he had the green light after taking your birth control pills. It was magic, you’ve never seen him this vocal as he finished inside you nearly four times in a single night. His moans remain loud even still, as he brings your thighs to press over your chest, basically folding you in half. The mere sound of your wetness as he pumps in and out of you is enough to have you nearly careening over the edge, especially when you feel a desperate hand reach out to rub fast circles on your clit.

You throw your head back as you cum for the second time, pulsing around him in a grip Mingyu can’t believe has the ability to become tighter. It’s enough for him though, as he leans his forehead against your chest as he releases himself inside you.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it, watching you filled to the brim with his cum, even as it drips onto the blankets you’ve laid down below. He has half a mind to stuff the liquid back inside you, but fears you’re tired enough, the overstimulation too much for you.

By the time you’ve cleaned up and resumed the movie you should’ve been done with hours ago, cuddled impossibly close to him, you find yourself remembering something quite out of the blue.

“Hey, not that I really care anymore,” you start, “But who were the guys you were talking to that day? From the party.”

“Stopped hanging out with them ages ago,” Mingyu scoffs, face souring at the mention of them. “I mean, it was me who said all that bullshit, but they weren’t exactly good influences either. Learned that pretty quick.”

“Oh,” you reply simply, letting your head fall back onto his chest.

He doesn’t seem to be having any of it, grabbing your chin to have you face him. “I’m still really sorry about that. I don’t care if you chase my tail for another fifty years, it’ll always be adorable.”

“Forgave you a long time ago, but I think I have a condition now.”

He quirks a brow at your words. “What does her Highness ask of me?”

“That you chase my tail for another fifteen to make up for all the running I’ve done.”

He’s laughing at that, agreeing to your condition as places loving smooches all over your face. “Consider it done.”

It’s later on in the night, both of you huddled in ratty hoodies and mismatched slippers, plastic bag crinkling along Mingyu’s arm as you giggle about something he said. You’re enjoying your fudgsicle in the peace and serenity of the 1 AM hour, making your trek home after raiding the corner store down the block. Mingyu suddenly halts in his tracks as he sees a particularly pretty set of flowers, illuminated by the fluorescent street lights.

“Babe, babe, stand here let me take a picture of you.”

“What?” you frown, holding up your stick of iced chocolate. “I’m not done yet.”

You watch as he grabs the melting popsicle from your hand downing the entire thing in one go as you watch him, hand still outstretched and jaw dropped. “Mingyu, you bitch!”

He only smiles as he mulls the chocolate in his mouth, words basically gibberish, “‘ere’s more in the ba’, now go stan'!”

You huff as you trudge to where he was asking you to pose, throwing a couple peace signs to satiate the home video urges in him so you could rip open your second fudgsicle.

“Wait! You got a little chocolate on your mouth.” he announces, and you stick your tongue out to lick past the remnants of the sweetness. “No— wait.”

He walks over to you as your still trying to find the spot you missed, unassuming as he swings into your face to kiss the remaining off. “Oh, nevermind, it was nothing.”

You push him off as heat crawls up your face, feigning annoyance at his antics. You decide to forgive him when rips open another fudgsicle for you, offering it with both hands, promising to not steal a single lick. You believe him, snatching the stick from him as you continue your trek home.

It’s not until he’s attempting to send you the pictures he just took to your phone so you could post them (which, with the way you looked, fat chance) that he notices something in your albums.

“Oh, are these grad photos?” he asks as he clicks the album open.

“Mhm,” you hum not paying too much attention as you walked and ate.

“Why’s there only one picture here?” he asks as he pulls up to find nothing more left to load.

It’s only then that you bring your full attention to your phone in his hand as you realize what picture he’s talking about, “Oh god, don’t look at that one.”

He does the obvious thing and opens it anyway, a louder than necessary “aw” coming out his mouth. “Why do you look like I’m about to eat you?”

“It felt like it!” you whine, remembering the moment clear as day. “They kept pestering me to take a picture with you too, I was tryna book it out of there at first chance.”

He giggles as he zooms into the photo, “I’m sending this to myself.”

You groan loudly at the thought, “God, just delete it, leave it alone.”

He tucks the phone into himself further, not letting you grab it. “No, you’re not deleting it. Why do you have it tucked into a separate folder if you hate it so much.”

He’s got you there, you realize quickly, and he reigns in his victory as he watches you grimace at the phone slightly, adding on, “it has a lot of feelings attached to it, I get it. But look, we can attach new feelings to it, now you’ll think about right now the next time you see it.”

“Think about you hijacking my fudgsicles? I think I prefer heartbreak,” you say, bringing your half eaten pop closer to your body in case he tries anything.

You’re deemed correct when he replies, motioning towards your concealed treat, “Careful, I can still pounce when you’re not looking.”

Shoving your hands into the swinging bag hanging on Mingyu’s arm, you bring out a thing of sausage and shove it towards him, “You leave me and my fudgsicle alone, go be lousy and suck on this or whatever.”

“You’d know alot about that, wouldn’t you?” he notes casually, grabbing the sausage anyway as he unwraps it to take a bite.

It takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about while he stares at you with a mischievous expression, coming to shove him when the innuendo finally registers in your head. You do the opposite this time, pointing the melting chocolate toward him instead, threatening to smear it all over his white hoodie.

He laughs at the sight, disarming you by simply moving your wrist away, coming to kiss you on the mouth hard regardless of your annoyed expression.

“Love ya’” he giggles.

“Hm.”

“What, hm? Say it back.”

You pretend to wonder, “I don’t think so.”

“Say it!” he groans, “Say it, say it!”

You manage to wriggle out of his hold, booking it before he realises what’s happening.

“Hey!”

Your both probably waking up the entire neighborhood with how loud you’re yelling and laughing, and even when he manages to tackle you down on somebody’s lawn, coaxing the words out of you with borderline violence, you still manage to smile, thanking your lucky stars that you got what you wanted after all.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks with an undertone.

“Thanking my stars they led me to you,” you reply.

“More like the other way around. Needed the fattest fucking star to realize what was in front of me all along,” he jests himself.

It sparks a laugh out of you. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

4K notes · View notes

ohsohoney · 3 months ago

Text

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Eight

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: A real long one. Honestly don't know how I did it but it was one session and now I'm dead, hopefully it's good enough! Lots of cuteness though and another snippet with Danny! Be warned cake mix is too baking. So :)

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

“This is a bad idea, right?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Marsh.” I admonished, sighing as I rolled my head to the left to level him with a long look before my eyes eventually wandered back on over to the store’s front.

“What? You said it.” Marshall chuckled lowly, hands interlocked in his lap.

We were currently sat in the car park of a Trader Joe's, in a spot at a roundabout the midway mark. I hadn’t thought too much of the ask during my sudden excitement to roam around a grocery store I’d yet to see (What? I was showing my age. Bite me.). But it was now hitting me at full force.

“Why’d you say yes anyway?” I was quick to shoot back at him, voice a tad bit strained. I shook my head and eventually resolved into brushing the whole idea away, “Let’s just forget it.”

A scoff and Marshall was rolling his eyes at the notion, “We’re already here. No point in leavin’ now.”

“We didn’t think this through though. I mean, what if somebody spots us?” I pointed out, gaze already surveying the mostly empty parking lot for the next potential pap.

“You make it out like we’re about to case the joint,” Em snorted, earning a wry smile off of me in retort, a reaction I couldn’t quite help. “Said you wanted to bake a cake, so we gonna. ‘Cause I’ll let you know now, I ain’t got the shit to make this back at the house.”

I blew a soft breath from out of my nose, vaguely amused. “No shit.” I replied, unable to imagine the man in a frilly pink apron and covered in flour on a casual Tuesday afternoon. I ended up sighing again anyway, “You sure? I mean, I could just run in.”

Marshall was already shaking his head at me, “Nah, it’ll be fine. If you really that worried you can take my cap. Or think I got another hoodie in the trunk.”

Blinking, I was unable to say much else before Em was hopping out and rounding the car to pull apart the contents of his boot. He muttered away, mostly to himself, before he returned a couple of moments later, standing by the driver’s door with an oversized hoodie in his hand. He held it out towards me and I found myself taking it with a gentle smile in thanks.

It didn’t take long for me to tug the jumper on over my head, the hood messing up my hair and catching on the seat belt before I had the commonsense to just unbuckle the stupid thing. Marshall watched the struggle with a mirthful smirk, the silver watch on his wrist glinting in the sunlight from where it rested against the edge of the door, until he eventually moved to close it, cropping up outside of the passenger’s side a second later. He tugged on the handle and I blinked over at him when a gust of wind washed over me.

I guessed I must have looked a tad bit pathetic as I turned in my seat to face him, legs moving to dangle out the side of the car, or at least it felt that way, what with how Marshall’s expression had since settled into something almost akin to fondness.

My nose wrinkled just as he let go of a soft laugh. It was a sound I found myself feeling a hint of pride about whenever I heard it, even if it meant that I was the victim of the current joke.

“Here, let me.” He spoke, already reaching out to fix my hood and to brush a tangled strand of hair behind my ear. If he heard the way my breath hitched at the sudden motion he didn’t mention it, but I witnessed how his keen eyes flickered back and forth between my own. “There. Screams incognito.”

Snorting at the heavy use of sarcasm, I smiled up at him, only to notice then how he’d crowded himself between my legs to help aid me. My stomach swooped at the realisation and I swallowed thickly, but before I could question the feeling, Marshall was stepping away again, sporting a wry grin of his own.

“Need my hat, Kim Possible? Or you good?”

Rolling my eyes, I shuffled further forward in my seat to jump out of the SUV, feet hitting the gravel with an audible scuff. “She doesn’t wear a hat and even if she did, I doubt it’d be Kangol.” I retorted, slipping by him to reach out and shut the door.

“Aye, what’s wrong with my cap?” Marshall prodded as the headlights flashed behind us to signal the car locking. I noticed how his brow had wrinkled at the slight when I looked over at him and so I nudged my shoulder with his as we walked across the lot.

“Nothing.” I claimed with a growing smile, reaching up to knock the brim of his hat just as we made it to the entrance. “Suits you.”

Marshall hummed a sound that was vaguely disbelieving, eyes lingering on me before he turned to pick up a basket. “Know what you need?”

“Sort of.” I replied distractedly, trying to take everything in. “This place is like every Hallmark movie I’ve ever seen come to life.”

“The fuck?”

Rolling my eyes, I just continued on, walking past Marshall, who’d since paused to shoot a bewildered glance my way, and towards a horde of fruit and veg stalls. “It’s just so fuckin’ American. Back home the closest place you’d get to this is a Big Tesco’s and even that’s like a standard food shop. This. It’s something straight out of one of them films.”

“It’s Trader Joe’s.” Marshall deadpanned, blinking back at me now with an expression that just had me cracking up.

“Stop making me feel dumb.” I rebuked lightly, head darting every which way as he slid on over to catch up to me before he then barrelled straight past. I let him lead, figuring he’d be better off knowing where everything could possibly be more than I ever would. “It’s just a big change, ‘s all.”

His cheek twitched with the beginnings of a smirk. “Everything's a big change with you.”

I poked his side in retaliation, pleased when he bristled but didn’t comment further on it. “Where do you reckon cake mix would be then?” I wondered out loud, peering around the aisle we were headed down. Honestly, cereals galore. Captain Crunch, Coco Pops, Cinnamon Toast Crunch… And those were just the C’s. Hang on a second, Eggo’s?

“Cake mix?” Em questioned me, flicking a raised brow my way and tugging me from my observations, “Bitch, I thought you was bakin’.”

Snorting, I couldn’t do much other than shrug. “It is baking!” I attempted to defend, but he was having none of it, shaking his head mockingly back at me. “Just the easier version?” I attempted to argue sheepishly.

I was rewarded with a soft tut, but Marshall did in fact then tilt his head over towards the right to signal where he figured the box mixes might be, “Cheat.”

Giving into the childish urge, I poked my tongue out at him and dipped around the next corner, smiling at the way his low humoured huff followed after me. It was only when I saw an all too extensive stock of baking goods parked up ahead that I quickened my pace, leaving him to trail behind.

“What do you reckon then, red velvet or vanilla? You sort of seem like a vanilla guy.” I commented when he finally caught up, gaze flitting between the two cake mixes I’d since picked up off the shelf before my eyes then darted over to meet his teasingly as he approached.

He kissed his teeth and batted the box of vanilla I held away from his view, rolling his eyes even though we both could see that he was trying to withhold another grin. I allowed the motion. “You don’t know me at all.” Marshall scoffed, getting in my space once more today to make a grab for a box sitting on the shelf just above my head. “All about the chocolate, sweetheart.”

Biting my tongue, I worked hard to keep my face from giving way to how the proximity seemed to make my skin prickle. His eyes found mine though as he held the winning mix up between the two of us. I swiped it from his hold, scanning over the necessary ingredients to keep myself from focusing too much on– whatever it was I was feeling. “Hm, only need to add eggs and milk. Could deck this out though.”

“Whatchu thinkin’?” Em asked me in that way he usually did, like he was genuinely invested in everything I had to say. He’d propped his forearm up on the shelf as he waited for me to weigh in and my stare tracked its way up from the back of the box to roam over the steady way he was now watching me. I reached up to tuck another fallen strand of hair behind my ear, the hood making the typically effortless action that much harder.

“A shit ton of chocolate?” I proposed with a raised brow.

“That mean you gone put my kid to sleep then?” He said, then snickered at my sudden change in expression, the corner of his lip tugging upwards. “Z will be bouncin’ off the walls.”

“It’ll be portioned!” I rebuted in the face of his amusement, quick to fall back on all my so-called years of parenting, “She’ll be fine!”

Marshall snorted in retort but appeared to relent, pinching the cake mix from my hand and throwing it into the basket haphazardly, “I’ll be sure to bring this moment back up when I’m right.” He added before he took off, probably in search of the confectionary aisle.

But see, since knowing the man, I’d long since come to realise that he had a big enough sweet tooth that could rival that of my own, meaning that all this posturing back and forth about decking out the cake was just a facade of sorts, him attempting to put my neck on the line for when the fallout eventually happened. I couldn't bring myself to mind though, not when he was wearing that stupid smug smile and not even when he ended up tossing a majority of the chocolate we’d collected into the basket.

I ended up grinning all the way back to the car.

“See! It was well worth it now, don’t you reckon?” I said with a sardonic smile, covered in cake mix, egg and frosting, my dirtied hands settled on my hips as I stared down at the hazardous cake we’d gone and created.

My head tilted just so, allowing myself to look at it from a normal perspective seeing as it had somehow managed to slant far left whilst it’d been baking in the oven. But I blamed Em for that one, the idiot having set the temperature up way too high.

“What, so we can cover up the monstrosity?” Marshall shot back at me from where he was stood by the kitchen sink, washing his hands free of all the frosting he’d been licking from the bowl moments before I’d stolen it out from under him. “Yeah, but you know what they say, a pig in lipstick is still a pig.”

Haughtily, I spun around on my heel just enough for my hip to press against the counter and for my eyes to hone in on him. I smirked, “Saying’s actually, a hog in armour is still but a hog.”

“Same fuckin’ thing.” Marshall admonished in a grunt, flicking his sopping wet hands out at me when he pulled away from the sink in search of something to dry them with. I tensed at the attack, feeling the splatter hit me before I peered down to spot a couple soup duds clinging to my arm and the collar of my top. He just chuckled, greatly amused.

“Dick.” I huffed and picked up an M&M from the bowl I’d just poured the bag into to toss back at him in retaliation.

Irritatingly, Marshall managed to snap the treat up out of the air with ease, pushing the blue ball forward on his tongue to flash it tauntingly between his teeth before he finally chewed on it. The crunch resonated in the quiet hum of the house. “You were sayin’?”

I narrowed my eyes, “Show off.”

But all that did was earn me another light laugh, Em sliding on closer to pinch a few more from the same bowl. “I’m just that good.” He retorted egotistically, before he turned to level me with the last M&M he held, titling his chin ever so slightly to goad me into trying to catch one myself.

Relenting to the fight all too easily, I braced myself in a steady stance and waited. When he tossed it, I managed to extend my neck near enough that I was close to capturing the colourful sweet, but just not close enough, my nose scrunched in annoyance when it bounced off the side of my cheek and onto the counter with a clatter. “Fuck.” I sighed, but not one to be outdone I looked towards him again, “Again.”

He raised a single brow at the demand but followed, picking up another handful and smiling as he prepared to pelt them my way one by one. It was something we continued on with for a short while, tossing the things back and forth between us as we tallied up a score, he was winning of course, but surprisingly I wasn’t too far behind, which actually eased the loss a fair bit.

We were actually at it long enough that we’d begun to squabble, calling one another a cheat, aiming for anything other than our mouths, even going as far as to switch up tactics by propping ourselves up on counters and barstools to annoy the other, before then crouching down as low as we could on Marshall’s tiled floors. It was there that we were eventually found.

Marshall spotted her first, arm already propped up before him and preparing to aim when his eyes shifted over to the left and caught sight of something standing in the kitchen doorway. His grin wobbled in further amusement, most likely due to the face I’d gone and pulled when I followed his line of sight, still stuck in my current position; squatting by the backdoor.

We were trying for a record, okay?

“Hey creep, what’s with the face?” Marshall greeted, his laughter carrying throughout the room when he finally tossed the chocolate treat my way only for it to actually make it into my mouth this time around, hitting the roof and sending my startled frown into a gasping smile.

Rosie was stood there, just off to the side by the counter now, seemingly content to simply watch us with a soft, goading smile on her face, her school bag settled by her feet. She shrugged, glancing over at her dad whilst I bounced on back to where I’d left Em to guard our semi-completed cake. “Nice to come home to noise, is all.”

The tip of Marshall’s nose did something odd then, a reaction to the words that went unnoticed by the girl, but he continued on smiling, dropping the few remaining M&M’s he held back into the packet we’d opened once the bowl had run dry.

“Didn’t hear you come in.” He mentioned as he rounded the counter to pull his daughter into a hug, steering her away from the onslaught of chocolate that littered the side when Rosie attempted to make a grab for the nearest share-pack of Hershey’s Kisses. “Nuh-uh. Dinner first, kid, then we can talk about you gettin’ a slice of our masterpiece.”

“Masterpiece?” Rosie’s eyes widened as she gifted the two of us a disbelieving snort, gaze jumping back between her dad and me, I narrowed my eyes playfully in retort whilst Marshall settled for poking her dimpled cheek. “It looks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

“Hey!” I chided, just as Marshall responded with, “What we were aimin’ for.”

The pair of us shared a mirthful look before we both started cracking up, Rosie merely shook her head at our antics but it was with the distraction that she finally managed to grab a wrapped Kiss. My eyes widened at the flash of silver I caught sight of just as she darted around the island to escape Em’s outstretched arms when he caught on too, crowding into my side when he shot her a long look, obviously hoping to put her off eating the treat. But it was already unwrapped and on her tongue before I could even blink back down at her.

I snorted, forever amused by the duo’s antics, and ran a hand over the girl’s plaited scalp. “Snooze you lose, Mathers.” I said encouragingly with a lazy shrug.

Z grinned at the show of support and sent a smug look back at her father, baring her chocolate covered teeth to him. Marshall leant forward so that his palms could press against the countertop and levelled the two of us with another long look, only this one was out of exasperation.

Rosie and I shared a glance of anticipation before we both turned back to face him with a matching set of innocent smiles, Rosie doing a much better job than me seeing as she could work that whole doe eyed perspective. Em heaved a hefty sigh. “Dinner, then cake. Cool?”

The girl beamed and was quick to nod her assent, squeezing my waist in what must have been a delayed embrace of hello, or maybe thanks, before she took a moment to assess our handy work. The cake was sparsely decorated, topped with a plethora of icing, at Marshall’s demand, and scattered with pieces of chocolate that we’d managed to stick on during our M&M disaster. I grimaced a tad whilst Em just looked on in pride.

“This is what you did whilst I was at school?” Z asked, dipping down to get a closer look at the disaster we dubbed a cake. Her expression truly was hilarious when she slowly stood again to dart a quizzical look between us.

“What d’you mean ‘this’?” Marshall answered her, raising a brow high enough to rival his daughter's own. “This is where hard work gets you.”

“Yeah,” I laughed, only adding fuel to the fire with my next comment, “Besides, we made it just for you. Don’t you like it?” I asked teasingly, batting my eyes over at her in hopes to see her crumble just a tad.

Rosie looked back at the sad excuse of a cake and didn’t falter, “Cake is cake. But next time you guys should probably wait for me.”

“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a chef.” Marshall smirked, having moved to join us on the other side of the island to allow his eyes to roam over the tilting structure, he shucked Z’s chin in addition which only earnt him a prod to his bicep.

“A baker, actually.” Rosie corrected with a smile, ever so pleased with herself.

“Oo,” Em dragged out, taking a stripe of frosting off the cake’s side just so that he could wipe it across the tip of the kid’s nose. “She’s a smartass, too.”

Rosie’s eyes widened in alarm to the smear and her jaw dropped as she gasped, not having anticipated the move. “Dollar!” She exclaimed in turn, wiping the chocolate off her nose before smearing it down her dad’s front.

With a roll of his eyes, Marshall huffed but it was more of a chuckle than an actual sigh as he looked back up from his ruined tee. “Touche.” They shared a laugh as Em went to grab a kitchen towel to wipe his hands clean with, “Go ‘n grab my wallet.” He told her and I watched on as Z did exactly that, swiping a green bill from its contents so that she could go and stuff it in the jar.

I shook my head ever so at the dynamic they made, continuing to smile as Marshall dropped the tissue he’d just been using into the bin before he made a grab for his daughter, causing her to jump and laugh as they tumbled about the kitchen together. I was perfectly content to watch on, slowly packing away the ingredients we had yet to use whilst wiping down the sides, the pair of them eased up after a minute or two, making their way back to the island, Marshall still defending our chocolate monstrosity.

“It’ll taste good, so who cares what it looks like?”

“Most people, Dad.” Rosie countered with a sly smile as she settled onto a barstool, handing over a frosting covered spoon that had apparently strayed during our decorating. I smiled softly in thanks, grabbing the other utensils that littered the space and crossing the floor to wash up.

“I got that.” Marshall assured me, hip checking my side before I could even reach for the dish soap.

My forehead wrinkled, “I don’t mind.”

He smiled in return, already moving to further roll up his sleeves, “I know, but I got it.”

I let it go, knowing when to pick and choose my fights with him now, and instead wandered back to see if I could make the cake work, picking up a couple of Whoppers that were supposedly meant to be the equivalent of a Maltesers, but I just couldn’t taste it.

“Can I help?” Rosie asked after a moment, capturing my attention when she sidled up to join me.

“‘Course,” I replied easily, already handing over the bag, “I think if we just cover it with as much chocolate as we can it’ll look…”

“Better than it does?” Z finished for me, her giggles spilling from her lips seamlessly whilst she began to dot Whoppers around the rim of the highest tier.

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” I tried, nudging her elbow with mine, but ended up chuckling too. “It was your dad’s fault anyway, all my previous cakes have turned out perfect.”

“I can still hear you.” Marshall’s voice cut in from behind us, garnering our focus for a split second before I waved him off.

“Yeah, yeah. Just letting Z here know I’m not to blame.” I told him, scattering the remaining M&M’s we had to spare over the top, managing to cover up some of the frosting we’d gone and butchered with a colourful swirl. Rosie snickered, having since switched up with her choice of chocolate so that she could place a few Kisses to the lower layers.

“I was just followin’ your instructions.” Em argued with me, the huff that followed was evident.

“Not well!”

A giggle had me smiling down at Rosie, who was happy enough to let her gaze drift between the two of us. “I bet it still tastes good.” She interrupted, trying to soothe her father’s bruised ego probably. But it was sweet enough to have me agreeing.

“Yeah, I mean who doesn't like chocolate?”

–

Dinner was apparently a Mathers Household classic. Spagbol. Or well just spaghetti to these lot. Something I hadn’t been able to let slide what with me being a fan. Though Marshall seemed amused rather than put off by my attempts at rapping the opening to Lose Yourself whilst he’d cooked, something which earnt me points with Rosie seeing as she could spit it far better than the composer himself.

It was sort of strange to be a witness to him doing such a mundane task like cooking though, but I enjoyed it all the same, watching him talk with Rosie about school as he drained the pasta and added a couple of herbs to the ground mince. An odd sense of privilege came with the slight peak into his daily life, figuring that most would have just expected him to have a live-in chef or a plethora of meals waiting to be reheated in his fridge. But no, Marshall appeared to actually enjoy the activity, enjoy the hush of music that played overhead whilst the steam from a boiling pot simmered under his steady hand, enjoy how slowly the process came together so that he could boss Rosie and I into setting the table when the food was almost ready.

Rosie had led me into the dining room they used, a room more intimate than the larger one the man had shown me during his grand tour, obviously used for when he had more than just one person over. As I set down a couple placemats, I guessed it was a room that only he and Rosie typically got use out of, the table circular and just large enough so that you had your own space but could easily be roped into another’s. It reminded me of the one we’d had as a kid, wooden, small and quaint, but that had been before one of mum’s boyfriends had fallen through it.

“You okay?” Rosie’s questioning broke me from my thoughts and I looked up to find her settling a fork down onto the mat opposite.

I blinked and then smiled, feeling how easy the gesture came to me. “Just lost in thought.”

She smiled too, hers crinkling the corners of her eyes as she finished setting up by dropping the last spoon down. “It’s nice having you here, you know. Sometimes it’s quiet just me and Dad, even when Ayla comes over.” She remarked, mentioning her older sister with the kind of sincerity that you only really held for your siblings, “You make him laugh, too. Like a lot.”

Blowing out a soft breath that sounded more like a chuckle, I reached out to fix a placemat that was a tad bit crooked, finding it simpler to focus on the small task rather than what the meaning behind Rosie’s words might possibly mean. “He makes me laugh too.” I replied and shot her a slight grin, it was then that Marshall emerged carrying two plates.

“And voila.” The man said as he set the dishes down, butchering the French word enough to have me hiding an indulgent smile.

“Smells good.” I commented, watching as a plethora of steam erupted up off the mountain shaped plate of spaghetti.

Em flashed me a bright grin, an actual one with teeth that had my mind short circuiting for a split second before he was speaking again, “Lemme grab the last one. You want some drinks?”

Rosie, who had already settled into the seat she’d been standing behind, nodded eagerly in answer, “Soda?” When she received a single brow in retort, she giggled and relented, “Juice, please.”

Smiling at the exchange, I was only caught a little off guard when I looked back at Marshall to find him waiting on my own reply, I silently scrambled for an answer, “Um, just water, please.” I said and he gave a dip of his chin to show he’d heard before he turned to head back to the kitchen. “Want help?” I called out, just managing to catch him before he slipped past the hall.

He looked ready to wave the offer off, before he thought about it. Three drinks and a single plate was easy work for a girl who’d worked a majority of her teens in pub restaurants and the like, but Marshall seemed to realise the slight struggle he might face. “Sure.”

As easy as that. Or so it only appeared, because from the expression that clouded Rosie’s face when I glanced back over to shoot her a quick smile, the exchange seemed to have perplexed her ever so.

Em had already continued on his route to the kitchen when I looked back to him, hoping to catch something in his answer to the face she’d pulled, but it seemed he hadn't been witness to it at all. “You okay?” I found myself asking, mimicking Z’s earlier question.

She looked a little startled when her eyes flew up to find mine, before she blinked and blew out a gentle laugh. “Didn’t think he’d go down without a fight.”

And oh. I had to chuckle a little at that too, having seen the way he’d been so prepared to deny the help just before he’d nodded. It made me wonder how much she’d bared witness to throughout the years. Em was strong, yes, but he also had a stubborn streak a mile long.

“What can I say, Z?” I sighed dramatically as I headed towards the door, “I just have a way with people.”

Her cheeky grin was the last thing I saw before I was padding around the corner and then into the kitchen, finding Em stood by the counter with a bowl of grated cheese and the drinks we’d asked for already waiting to be picked up again.

I snorted softly at the picture he painted, a handful of the shredded cheese halfway to his mouth and face only a tad bit surprised. He flipped me off as I came around to take hold of the drinks, only furthering my amusement.

“I mean, what an appetiser.” I teased, the words followed by a bout of giggles when he flicked the remnants at me. Thankfully though, most of the cheese only made it about halfway over the countertop, causing my grin to widen that much more.

Marshall went to pick up another load and so I squeaked, grabbing the drinks and darting back out of the room before he could toss it at me.

I was chuckling away to myself by the time I made it back to the table, Rosie having already started in on her dinner, the dead giveaway being the slight red smear of sauce that stained her lower lip even as she pretended that she’d just been waiting patiently for us to return.

I wiped the corner of my own mouth after settling down her juice in an attempt to warn her and watched as her eyes widened before she cleared the smear away with the back of her hand, the action seemingly saving her from another one of Em’s disapproving looks because not a second Marshall reappeared.

Taking to my seat in an attempt to hide my slight smile, I thanked him for the food, to which the man merely rolled his eyes, ignoring the gratitude altogether. I bit down on my smirk and instead opted for shaking my head as I picked up my fork.

The food was honest to God some of the best I’d had in a long while, whether it was down to it having been ages since someone had cooked a proper homemade meal for me or just him having mastered the art of the dish, I didn’t know. But I made sure to tell him.

Never in all my life would I have expected to have been a witness, let alone the cause of the light flush that coloured the tips of his ears. But it was impossibly endearing, so much so that I refrained from playfully mocking him for it. Rosie though, had no such qualms. “You look a little red, Dad. You gettin’ sick?”

If Marshall could have he would have scowled at the ask, but this was his baby and so I knew that the smile he gifted her as he turned was levelled with a strained edge. “Fine.”

I snorted quietly, but from the way the flush dropped to the back of Em’s neck it seemed he’d heard it all the same.

Cake followed dinner, as promised. And to my surprise it hadn’t tasted half bad. The chocolate frosting wasn’t all it was cut out to be, not much of a shock seeing as I was alright with it in small doses but even my cupcakes lost their tops nine times out of ten, so Em was gifted the majority of it, something he seemed both pleased and a little guilty about, probably down to the excess amount of sugar. Still he worked his way through it, the three of us talking about Rosie’s day and then our own, leaving out the more exciting details as to not make her feel left out, before we all started packing away.

“Told you so.” Em commented when we’d loaded the dishwasher and wiped the sides free of cheese, his gaze was trained on his daughter, who appeared to be talking a mile a minute about the movie her and her friends had watched at their last sleepover whilst bouncing from foot to foot.

Ah, the inevitable sugar rush. I turned my face away to hide my growing smile before I lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “It’ll die down soon enough, might even make it easier for her to fall asleep.” I murmured, passing him a tea towel that he used to dry his hands.

With a grunt that was more an amused hum, Marshall paused by the counter and waited for Rosie to take a breath before he cut in, “You got homework?”

The girl seemed to think about it, eyes flitting to the ceiling as though she could see the inside of her brain and was set about working her way through a catalogue there, before dropping her gaze back to him and shaking her head. “No, but I did promise Sara I’d call her tonight.” At her father’s expecting look, she tacked on, “If you said it was okay, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Marshall blew out a soft chuckle, lips quirking ever so before he waved the kid off, tossing the tea towel over his shoulder. “Go on, just not too late, yeah?”

“Promise!” She grinned, darting around the kitchen to knock into his side, arms encasing his torso in a brief hug before she jumped to do the same to me. I barely had time to wrap my arms back around her before she was darting away again, this time headed for the stairs after stealing yet another Hershey’s Kiss from the last of the cake we’d yet to hide away.

“Z!” Was the only scold she heard before she was gone from sight, leaving only a trail of laughter behind her.

I snorted too, shaking my head mirthfully whilst I worked my way around the kitchen counter to place a cover over the cake slices and putting them up out of reach.

“Kid’s gonna be the death of me.” Marshall added in a low sigh, still staring off after his daughter before he cracked a soft smile, eyes then flitting over to meet mine. “Best pray the sugar wears off quick.”

I widened my eyes in jest to his warning, but paid it no real mind, knowing he was only being stupid. “Dinner really was good, you know.” I mentioned it again, mainly just to see if I could provoke the same flush from earlier, but also so he knew I meant it. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

To my pleasure the tiniest hue could be made out from across the island, but Marshall hid it all too easily with a calculated tilt of his head. He shrugged softly when he answered me, “Know how it is, sort of had to provide for myself for a long while. Mom wasn’t always around when I was a kid, Nate grew up and relied on me most nights, then when I was out in LA tryna make it big, was skimming money off the top of the odd jobs I worked jus’ so I could eat and send some back home.” He levelled me with another look then, palms coming to rest on the countertop, “Sort of enjoyed it, I guess. After a while, just helped me escape.”

I nodded slowly in understanding. Before I could say anything though, the silence the kitchen had gotten swept up in was quickly broken by the sound of my phone.

Jumping at the ring, I blinked out of the dazed staring match I hadn't even realised I’d been a part of with Em before looking around to try and spot the last place I’d left it. Marshall picked it up and handed it over with a sly smirk, having caught on to my short term memory.

“Thanks.” I breathed out in appreciation and then looked down to see who it was that was calling, my grin grew. “It’s Danny.” I let slip to Marshall before hurrying to pick up the call, “Hey stranger!” I greeted the second the line connected, surprised to note that the signal wasn’t as shitty as it usually was.

“Oh, it’s you.” Came my brother’s short reply as though he hadn’t expected exactly that, his face cropping into view from where he perched on a lower bunk, all tanned from the Cyprus sun.

I let my eyes fall into a narrowed glare, “Know you’ve always been short of two brain cells, but who did you really expect to fuckin’ see when callin’ me?”

Danny’s smirk came into full focus before he was grinning away, stare jumping away from the camera for a brief moment before it darted back. “Love you, too.” He chided halfheartedly and with a slight tut, leaning forward to rest his forearms against his knees whilst I moved to settle my phone down onto the kitchen counter, “Just figured I’d give you a bell whilst I had some time, that so hard to believe?”

Even when rolling my eyes, I couldn't dampen my smile. “Yeah, it is.” I chuckled, taking in the background and anything else I could, “You at camp?”

He hummed around a nod, looking off to the side probably to get a feel for what I was seeing. “Told you, din’t I? At a base here for a couple weeks, doin’ some more trainin’ for the deployment followin’ my leave.”

“Well, you mentioned the first half.” I acknowledged, but wasn’t surprised. Danny always tended to stick to the most basic of explanations, such as the time he’d gone away with his mates to a festival for a weekend and said he was on his way back– failed to mention that it was a days fucking trip though.

The twat just waved me off, “Exactly. Anyway, what you up to, where you at?” He came in a little closer then to the screen as though he was attempting to look behind my head. “Not still in New York are ya? Thought you’d want shot of ‘em by now, all them Americans.”

Snorting and casting a chance glance up, I found Marshall by the sink, rinsing the few glasses we’d used earlier, he shot an unimpressed brow my way. “Not in New York, no. But still in The States, with said Americans.” I answered him, shaking my head at the way his lips pursed in a low hum, “So be careful, there are big ears listening in.” I also remarked, thinking back to Drew’s nickname for Em.

“Aye.” The man mentioned then warned, having since finished by the sink so that he could now point a warning finger my way, I rolled my eyes but my smirk was far too playful.

Danny’s voice dragged back my attention to how he had since crowded in closer in an stupid attempt to see through the screen and into the kitchen. “Oi, who’s that? Don’t tell me I was spot on with the mystery man, El! Shit!”

The reminder of Dan’s earlier words the night before I’d met Em had me flushing slightly and immediately my traitorous gaze shifted over towards the man himself, who seemed far too amused as he slid on closer. “Fuck off, Danny.”

The twat only laughed though, all too happy with my reaction it seemed. “Ah, come on! Lemme meet him, just wanna say ‘ello!”

I pressed my lips together to keep the biting words which lined my tongue from springing forth, could always trust your own flesh and blood to turn on you at the drop of a hat. The traitor. “Fuck off.” I repeated, but my words lacked any real heat when Marshall rocked into the side of me to catch a quick peek of Danny’s glinting eyes.

My brother paused as he took in the sudden newcomer and his face was a right picture when he started to stumble over his next sentence, “Ah– right, hang on. Fuckin’ what?”

Unable to help myself, I laughed freely, feeling a little euphoric now that I was no longer on the end of all his ribbing. Em seemed to get a kick out of it too, even now that he was no longer in view he was still close by, smirking at both Danny and I’s reactions.

“Elia!” Danny called hotly, eyes wide as they flickered all over my face as if he hoped to find some sort of answer there, “Tell me that wasn’t who I thought it was.”

Snorting, I gifted him a smug smile, “Can’t do that, sorry.”

“Lia.” Danny practically hissed, before pulling out the face he knew I hated, one which he’d mastered decades ago and had since taught Lottie, seeing as it was the kind that always had me feeling guilty or had the two of them forcing my hand. “Come on, you know you can tell me anythin’.”

I flipped him off, scoffing at the attempt to butter me up but even so, I still felt my walls crumble. “Ugh, you’re such a prick, Danny.” I blew out, eyes straying away from the screen and over to where Marshall still stood, looking back at me, “Do you mind?”

With a smile that I couldn't quite place the emotion behind, Em rolled his eyes at the ask and slid back into view, close enough now that his entire side pressed against mine. I chewed on my lower lip as I watched my brother observe Marshall whilst slowly losing his mind.

“Jesus Christ, man. Shit.” Were the first few words he spouted, a hand coming up to rake across his face whilst Em shook a tad with a light chortle, “I mean, fuck.” Danny continued once his arm had fallen away, attempting to take in the scene again before his stare dragged back to me, “I know you’re in with these lot, El. But shit– Eminem? How the fuck does that even happen?”

I had to laugh at that, knowing full well how he was feeling.

“I mean, come on! Mate! It’s an honour, I swear.” Danny started to fangirl, jaw still agape and eyes almost starstruck.

“Good to meet you, man.” Marshall said in his usual voice, not the one reversed for the public, for interviews and the like, but the one he used with Rosie, with Soup and Drew, with me. I was immensely thankful for it. “Heard a lot about you.”

Danny seemed to remember himself at that, sitting back a bit in his bunk, dog tags rattling with the motion, as he dragged out a long breath. “Only good things I hope.” He chuckled in that charming way of his, the type that used to get him free sweets down at the local shops and have the old ladies outside the cafe swooning.

“Nah, I let him in on that laundrette heist you committed when you were fifteen and told him ‘bout the times you wet the bed.” I interrupted, smirking when Dan’s eyes cut to me.

“You know that weren’t me, it was Danny Evans.” Danny sniped back far too quickly, “How many times do I gotta tell you?”

I chuckled around a small a-huh, “Sure, Dan. How’d you barrel into the pub the same night and piss away a load of ten pences on the fruit machines then?”

He sniffed, feigning ignorance as he glanced away, “No idea what you’re on about.”

Shaking my head, I found Em watching me with a smile of his own.

“So you ain’t gone deny pissin’ the bed then?” Marshall wondered out loud, chin coming to rest on the fist of his hand.

Startled, Danny’s head shot back round to the camera, he raised a finger at Marshall, “It’s slander, is what it is.” He told the man, “Always been jealous of me, she has. Me bein’ the fitter one of course.”

“Ha. Hilarious.” I deadpanned, but allowed a small smile to creep through when Em’s knee knocked into mine. “What you been up to anyway, arsehole?”

“Fuck me and all my shit, question still stands, Li.” Danny was hasty to retreat back to his previous ask, “How’d you two meet?”

Thankfully Em was the one to answer him. “I reached out.” He told him, gaze straying over towards me as he carried on, “Listened to her stuff for a while before I saw that video your sister posted online, figured it was a shot in the dark.”

“One which worked out,” I teased, before I shook my head over towards Danny, who appeared to be watching the pair of us with a dopey grin, “Acting as though I didn’t shit myself the second I found out it was him.”

Marshall snorted beside me, probably remembering the conversation, the way I’d stressed over sudocrem spots and my sound system, whilst he'd been perfectly content.

“Nah, I can imagine.” Danny laughed in ridicule, knowing how much of a fan I’d been growing up, “Failed to fuckin’ mention it though, din’t you?”

The way he’d levelled me with a look, which spoke more words than said, had me shifting somewhat sheepishly. “It was new!” I exclaimed, “Didn’t know how it would all work out. No one but Mila knows where I am, well Lotts too– sort of, I know she’d kill me if she knew knew.”

Smiling at that, Danny’s chuckles dimmed into a low titter before his eyes wandered back on over to Marshall, “Take good care of her for me, yeah? She acts tough but she’s soft as.”

I scoffed lightly, already prepping to roll my eyes when Marshall’s reply caught me a tad off guard. “I’ve realised.” He said gently, giving me a quirked smile when he caught me watching, “But no, she’s in good hands here. Me and my daughter are enjoying havin’ her here.”

My heart warmed at his words, the smile which overwhelmed my face too sappy even for my own liking. I made a vague sniff, pressing further into the man’s side as I hung my head to hide my reaction. Em didn’t falter, in fact he pressed closer too.

“Good to hear it.” Danny’s voice came through before there was a rather loud crash on the other side of the call, one which had Danny’s head shooting up, his eyes widening a fraction before a rowdy figure flew into him, knocking my brother sideways.

I shared a startled look with Em, completely confused, but noted the way Marshall backed away ever so at the new figure who’d come and intervened. A few more blokes fanned in and around the background, though those seemed to be preoccupied, not even paying Danny and his fellow soldier anymind, as though it was all normal.

“Er?” I heard myself say and it was after Danny had managed to shove the man off him with a breathless laugh, attempting to right himself once more, that I caught sight of the slight amusement which shone in Marshall’s eyes.

“Fuckin’ lump, I told you to stop doin’ that.” My brother exclaimed, and where I’d expected him to sound a bit miffed by the sudden attack, I was surprised to hear real affection there.

“But, my darlin’, I missed ya!” Came a bright Irish lilt just as a plethora of fawn coloured curls spilled over the bunk’s bedsheets before following his body back up into a standard sitting position. His grin was overwhelmingly white and almost large enough to hide his green eyes from view.

There was a bit more roughhousing as Danny shoved his army mate away when the kid started making kissy faces at him. “Piss off, you twat. I’m on the phone.”

It was that which had the other lad pausing in his messing, his head rolling over to the left where he found Dan’s phone, as well as me, I supposed. I waved, still a little surprised by the whole ordeal. “Hiya?”

“Fuck me.” The Irish man murmured lowly, eyes wide enough for me to see just how light his green eyes actually were, before he shuffled forward to flash a charming grin my way, “Aye, you’re lovely, have we met before? You look awfully familiar, mhuirnín.”

I had zero idea how to answer that, though I wasn't confused enough not to recognise the sweet name he’d used for me there. “Uh.”

“Leave it out, Lynch.” Danny huffed, swatting the other soldier who was still geared up in his tactical vest. “That’s my sister, you dickhead.”

“Wha?” Was the reply Danny received, before his mate turned back to the camera with another endearing grin, “I’m Tadhg, darlin’.” He introduced, name sounding more like Taig. “But I swear I weren’t lyin’ when I reckoned ye looked familiar. We din’t mess ‘round behind a Spoons on me last leave, did we?”

His brash words and assumption startled a loud laugh out of me, one which had Em’s brow furrowing slightly and Danny’s face falling into a scowl. “No we did not, you little shit.” I said, my head shaking at the cheek of it even as he continued grinning cheekily.

“Lynch, I’m warnin’ you.” Came my brother’s low mutter as he yanked his mate back away from the camera, Tadhg didn’t seem to mind the manhandling much.

“I’m just introducin’ meself, Danny boy!”

“Well don’t, she’s taken.” Danny retorted, confusing me a tad, yet I didn’t deny it, rolling my eyes at my brother's obvious displeasure.

My stare wandered over to Em, who was fiddling with his thumbs, he looked up at me as though sensing my gaze, I smiled. The gesture grew when it was returned.

“El. El– aye, Lia!” Dan’s voice rang through, I snapped my attention back towards him but it was almost as though he hadn't expected his shout to draw in one of the lot behind him–

“Oh shit, is that Elia?”

It was sheer impulse, the way my head turned towards Marshall at the unexpectedness of hearing my name. Em seemed to sense my sudden dismay because he was plastered back to my side in a second, arm coming to wrap around my waist. The touch settled the anxious response that had been drilled into me and I was a tad bit thankful for the fact that he was only portionally in the frame when I looked back to my brother.

A third guy seemed to have joined our Facetime call, his eyes as dark as his braided hair and caught on me from where he’d come to kneel on the bunk behind both Danny and Tadhg. “Shit, it is!” His voice was layered in a thick Mancunian accent, one which reminded me of a friend I had back home, “How’d you know Elia, pal?”

“Elia?” Tadhg wondered, eyes flitting across my face before a sheen of recognition settled in there, “Fuck, I just asked Elia if we shagged behind a Spoons.”

“You did what?” The Manc spluttered slightly, his eyes alarmed.

I bit my tongue to keep from chuckling at that, but Em had no such qualms, apparently having picked up on a bit of slang whilst he’d been in the UK, that or just having been ‘round me far too long.

“Idiots.” Danny sighed, giving Tadhg one last final shove before he let his shoulders drop and glanced over at me, “Sorry, El. I wouldn’t have called if I’dve known this lot would come bargin’ in.”

“You’re alright.” I told Danny genuinely, I’d take any sort of interruption if it meant I got to talk to him for a little while. “It’s nice to meet your mates though, you lads doin’ alright over there?”

“All good, Els.” Danny assured me, but it was short lived because Tadhg was turning to grace the third soldier with a perplexed look.

“How’d you know who she was anyway, Sully?”

Sully, the dark eyed lad with the Manc accent, shrugged as he looked back down at his friend, “Mate, she’s been like my crush for years. Had a poster of her on me wall when I were back home.”

My eyebrows raised at the admission (I mean how old was this kid? Fresh out of school?) and it was then that Marshall chose that exact moment to clear his throat. I shot him a knowing look, one which he returned with a rueful smile.

The three lads turned to us at that exact moment, Tadhg laughing at the sudden sheepishness Sully’s smile took on, whilst Danny just heaved another prolonged sigh.

“Fuck, that’s well awkward.” Sully noted, only furthering said awkwardness.

Marshall looked over to me, that smile still as present as ever, “Didn’t know you had posters.”

“Me neither.” I snorted quietly in return, leaning into him until our moment was cut short.

“What the fuck, Danny!”

Both Marshall and I’s head spun around to see what had happened, only to realise that it had been us. We were what had happened.

“What the fuck, man?” Tadhg said after a long moment had passed. Too long.

I cringed a tad, expecting to have Marshall move away now that he’d been spotted too, having leaned too far into the camera’s view when his head had ducked down to join mine. But he didn’t, move that is. Didn’t shy away at all. In fact, he nodded to the duo in a small hello. “Sup.”

Tadhg and Sully’s eyes were boring into us now, utterly stunned, which would have been funny if it wasn’t for the shock of it all. Danny sat off to one side with his face buried in his hands before he slowly lifted his head, showing off an all too apologetic smile.

I waved him away before he could open his massive gob to say something as stupid as sorry, it wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t like we’d really discussed anything, about his army friends knowing who I was and certainly not about them meeting Marshall, who Danny himself had only just realised was said ‘mystery man’.

“Alright, clear out.” Danny ended up saying instead, shooing his pals off his bunk.

Seemed that the pair weren’t all that easily led though. “Oi, whaddya mean? Let us meet the famous people!” Tadhg hassled, shoving back on the hand Danny was trying to push him away with.

“Yeah, man! I mean, fuckin’ hell, Eminem was the last person I figured I’d be meetin’ today, lads.” Sully added as he rocked further into the little space that sat between Tadhg and Danny, elbows coming up to rest on either man’s shoulder.

“He’ll be the last person you’ll ever meet if you two don’t piss off.” Danny huffed, swatting Sully’s hand off.

“Ooo, tetchy!” Sully laughed, prodding Danny further by deeming it alright to hang over his shoulder instead now, Tadhg’s face being squished against his torso. “Heya, mate! Your last album? Fuckin’ fire, fella!”

Surprisingly, Em seemed to snort at the kid’s words and had since settled into the fact that he was now wholeheartedly a part of this conversation. “Appreciate it, man.”

I watched on as Sully continued to rant about all the emotions he’d felt whilst listening to the LP and was warmed by the way Marshall answered each of his and Tadhg��s questions with a genuine acknowledgement, delving when and where he could. Danny appeared to watch it all too, observing how his mates fawned over Marshall and even me at times, though Tadhg’s, I figured, was more down to the fact that he was a massive flirt, having picked up on him even trying his luck with Marshall, much to the man’s obliviousness.

A while must have passed before Danny finally cut in, giving Marshall a small reprieve, “Alright, as enlightening as this has been,” He mentioned, eyes flitting over to Tadhg, who simply winked at him in return, “I wanna talk to my sister for a bit.”

“Awh, mate! We’re soldiers, this is like our make a wish or summat!” Tadhg almost whined, Sully and Danny snorting at his huffy behaviour as though it was typical, but the pair did eventually make a move to leave, Sully giving us a big thumbs up and a toothy grin whilst Tadhg shot us a joint wink. “Here if you ever need a rebound!”

Danny kicked his arse with the side of his boot as the man dipped out of view, though we heard the hearty laugh that followed in the Irish boy’s wake. He was shaking his head ever so when he glanced back at Em and I, “Sorry ‘bout them. Army life makes meetin’ normal people that more exciting, you know?”

I huffed a quiet chuckle whilst Marshall gifted Danny an easy but tired grin, he rapped the counter as he pushed to stand back to his full height. “I’ma go check on Z,” He mentioned to me before turning back to face Danny again, “Was good meetin’ you, man. Have to do this again sometime, for real.”

Knowing my brother like I did, I could see the slight ripple of surprise that echoed through his reaction to that statement, but on the surface he just dropped his chin and gave Em a sporting grin in turn. “‘Course, mate. Lookin’ forward to it.”

Just before he could slip away, Marshall lingered a second longer, hand squeezing my waist where it had failed to fall away in all the time we’d spent speaking and his smile widening just a fraction for me to see. “I’ll come find you in a bit.” I promised, he dipped his head and I listened as he padded out of the kitchen and over to the stairs.

Danny was the one to break the quiet we settled into. “He’s nice.”

I peered back at him to find him wearing a genuine smile, not a trace of animosity to be found in his voice. My grin was small, an attempt to hide the fondness I knew he’d find there. “Yeah, he is.”

Shaking his head around a knowing smile, Danny took his phone into his hand, “I was so right about there being a mystery man.”

Scoffing at the words, I cut my eyes at him but still looked back over my shoulder to make sure that Em hadn’t heard, even though it was impossible that he had, he was upstairs with Z.

“Shut up, idiot.” I told him, slipping over to the backdoor and into the cool air the garden offered. I’d only been out there the once but it was just as lovely as the house’s front driveway, though a lot larger. “It isn’t like that.”

Danny hummed, unconvinced. “Sure it ain’t. Remember though, I know you.”

“And what’s that meant to mean?”

He laughed giddily in reply, “You’re smitten!”

“Fuck off.” I huffed, looking away.

He wasn’t having any of it though. “You fuckin’ are! Know it too.” He continued to chuckle, all smuglike, “Deny it all you want if that’s what makes you happy though.”

I rolled my eyes, “It really isn’t like that, Dan. He’s– well, he’s him.”

“You’ve always been a right idiot, you know that?” Danny fired back, voice a little heated though his sigh told me that he wasn’t willing to expand on his statement, “What you been up to anyway? Seen his Porsche yet or is that reserved for red carpets?”

“You’re such a prat.”

Danny grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

Blowing out a breath, I resolved to let the argument go. “It’s been good here, nice. It’s so different from London. I mean, I’ve seen so much already. Even had a fuckin’ rap battle with this friend of Em’s.”

Danny looked like he didn’t believe me.

“I swear it, Dan!” I laughed in defence, pressing my knuckles into my mouth to keep from being too loud.

“Come off it, you?” He asked, though there was a slight note of awe there.

“Me.” I retorted with a great big old smile, “It was so surreal, like I don’t know how it even happened.”

Danny started chuckling and he shook his head at me in utter disbelief, “Only you, I swear. Wish I could’ve been there.”

“Me too.”

A wave of quiet passed between us.

“I’m glad you’re havin’ a good time.” Danny finally murmured, looking at me with those eyes that so often reminded me of Lotts, of Mum. “If anyone deserves a bit of happiness, it’s you.”

My eyes flickered between his, a tad bit teary after hearing that, and so I sniffed and looked away in hopes to cover it up. “Hush up.”

Danny’s chuckles resonated even through the phone, bouncing around me and filling my chest with a sense of nostalgia. “Okay, only if you let me know when it happens.”

Brow furrowing, I looked to him with a question, “When what happens?”

All I received was a gentle smile, “You’ll know.”

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