#TECHNICALLY this is like the last line i wrote LAST week

[dandelion-wings]

Last Line Challenge

Tagged by @canonical-transformation

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

He plays Father afterwards, unsurprisingly losing, and then Father leaves the two of them alone to play a final game.

I'm not tagging that many people sorry. At random and off the top of my head: @mommalosthermind @awake-my-oceans @emanation-aura @46hasu @idance2silence @esmeraldablazingsky ? And anyone else who wants to do it can consider themselves tagged!

[oddinary4bts]

Always Been You | hhj

☆ summary : when two estranged best friends meet again at their friends' wedding, an old spark reignites. You swear to yourself that you won't fall for Hyunjin again, until alcohol blurs the line between you two. Is it your fault if you find yourself drowning in the familiarity that is him?

☆ pairing: Hyunjin x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (technically 13+? There is no smut just lots of fluff)

☆genre: best friends to strangers to lovers, idol!au; fluff, some slight angst

☆warnings: mention of cheating, Hyunjin be a ghost, alcohol consumption

☆word count: 18.7k words

☆a/n: Sooo, yes I do write for both stray kids and bts. I really love this fic and I hope you guys will love it just as muuuch✨ enjoy your reading! Also I wrote this 2 years ago so obviously my writing has changed a lot but I hope you still like it!!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Prologue – five years ago

The smell of fresh rain on pavement filled your senses as you walked, legs moving in almost a half jog as you made your way to Hyunjin’s place. The hot summer air was rendered colder by the rain, and you quickened your pace as the rain doubled up.

It was unlike Hyunjin to invite you over at this time of the night, so unlike him that you had found you couldn’t say no. It was true that you had… sort of avoided him for the last week. Ever since Hangyeol had asked you out and you had said yes, to be precise.

The distant rumble of thunder had you moving into a quick sprint, right as Hyunjin’s house came into view. Though you loved the summer storms, you knew better than to stay outside when lightning was cutting through the sky.

You ran to the door, grabbing your phone to text Hyunjin that you were there. Though it was unnecessary, as the door immediately swung open in front of you.

“Hey”, Hyunjin said, moving aside to let you walk in.

“You better have a good reason for making me come here in this weather”, you said as a greeting, while Hyunjin shut the door behind you. You took off your shoes to put on slippers, before turning to look at your best friend.

“Let’s go to the playroom, I don’t want my parents to know you’re here.”

You furrowed your brows – the Hwangs had known you for a few years now, and had always liked you.

“Why?” you asked, unable to help yourself.

Hyunjin seemed to fidget for a moment, clearly uncomfortable under your gaze.

“What’s wrong with you?” you enquired, brows knit together.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, and he ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

Oh. So this was about Hangyeol.

“Let’s go to the playroom”, you repeated his words, walking around Hyunjin towards the sliding door that led to the small inner court of the house. The playroom was on the other side of the small court, and it sort of was your usual hang out spot with the rest of your friends.

You both took off your slippers as you stepped outside, grabbing them in your hands before you ran to the other side of the court as the storm had finally hit. Once you got into the playroom, you dried your feet on the carpet near the entrance, before putting your slippers back on and heading into the room proper. You sat in the L-shaped couch, Hyunjin’s foot tapping on the ground as you looked at him and an awkward silence filled the air around you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked once you couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Hyunjin blurted out.

“I haven’t?”

“Oh.”

Another silence moved in the room, only interrupted by the tick of the clock on the wall.

This was unlike you. So unlike you that you felt dread moving through your blood.

“There’s something I need to tell you”, Hyunjin eventually said, his eyes meeting yours.

You pursed your lips, biting the inside of your bottom cheek. “What’s up?”

His foot started moving even faster, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, even though you were starting to understand where this was heading to.

Hyunjin let out a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know. Jihoon-ah forced me to do this.”

As Hyunjin fell silent, you tilted your head to the side. “Do what?”

He looked away, his eyes falling on the painting that you had made with the rest of your group of friends a few months before. “I know you’ve started talking to Hangyeol. And before it’s too late, you need to know that I have feelings for you.”

He punctuated the end of his declaration with your name, uttered in a whisper that barely even reached your ears. It had the effect of a cold shower on you, and a stunned silence was all you were able to offer him.

“I… I know I’m a trainee and I don’t really have the time to… to give you what you deserve. But please don’t go with Hangyeol. He’s the worst.”

“You don’t get to tell me not to be with Hangyeol”, you let out. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Hyunjin gulped, wetting his lips. “Because he’s going to treat you like shit. He cheated on his ex.”

“They were together for two weeks, they barely even were a couple”, you said, your tone raising. “Why do you care?”

“I told you. I have feelings for you, I don’t want to see you get your heart broken.”

Little did he know that his words were breaking your heart right now. “Jinnie, you don’t get to tell me you have feelings for me. I moved on from you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“A year ago? At Seonhwa’s birthday dinner”, you said, trying to explain, but not really wanting to.

Not when he was fidgeting twice more in front of your eyes, and you felt as if he was slipping through your fingers.

“I was dumb”, he let out. “But now that you’re graduated I thought…”

“What did you think?” you asked. “That I was going to crawl back to you?”

You didn’t know why you were as angry as you were. All you knew was that the more he looked distressed, the angrier you were growing.

“You’re my best friend, nuna, I’m not talking about crawling just… I’ve been a trainee for a year now and you’re always there to support me… I was stupid last year.”

“Fuck that, you asked me to just be friends and we are now, why are you screwing that up?”

“Why am I? You’re the one who decided to pursue Hangyeol”, Hyunjin spat, his tone finally meeting the venom in yours.

You scoffed. “Hangyeol already asked me out and I said yes, Jinnie, it’s too little too late.”

A stunned silence met your words, as Hyunjin just looked at you, lips slightly parted in surprise.

Not the positive kind of surprise.

“Don’t look at me like that”, you said, crossing your arms on your chest as you glanced away. Looking at that painting, and at the memories that it held.

“You’re dating him?” he asked, voice small, after a few more seconds of silence.

You sighed deeply, slightly shaking your head. “I am. You’re just my best friend, Hyunjin-ah, and that doesn’t have to change…”

“I don’t want to watch you get played by fucking Hangyeol, of all people.”

“Then you should have been honest to me before!” you exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have waited until I was with someone else…”

“I didn’t think you’d be with someone else! I thought… I thought we’d figure it out.”

“Fuck that, we had nothing to figure out, you’re just my best friend”, you said, repeating your earlier words.

“I know, I got it”, he said, shutting his eyes as he clenched his jaw. “No need to repeat it.”

“It hurts, uh?” you said bitterly. “To be told that.”

He glanced at you, though his eyes avoided your gaze. “Can you please just calm down?”

You scoffed. “Calm down? Please, you made me come here at midnight to tell me that you have feelings for me when I’m already dating someone else, what were you expecting?”

“Not that, honestly.” He finally met your gaze, and your heart broke at the pain in his eyes. “Not that at all.”

Your mouth fell open as you tried to find a retort but came up short. All you could think about was the way your heart was constricting in your chest, and the fact that you couldn’t quite breathe.

“Let’s take a few days to think about it”, Hyunjin said. “Just please consider it.”

“I won’t”, you said. “I don’t need to think about it, I’m perfectly happy with Hangyeol.”

“You barely know him.”

“And now you’re making me feel as if I barely know you. Did you really think I was going to wait for you? You said you wanted to be friends.”

He wet his lips again, his eyes scanning your features. “I needed time, I guess.”

“It was too long”, you said, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s getting late, I should go home.”

He breathed your name. “Please stay. Let’s just talk it out.”

You shook your head. “You’re the last person I want to talk to right now. Just leave me and Hangyeol alone.”

“So, you’re just going to drop our friendship like that?”

“No, I won’t. We’ll pretend tonight never happened and things will go back to how they were before.”

“I told you I don’t want to see you get your heart broken”, he said, voice small.

“Who says I’m going to get my heart broken?” you asked. “Just give him a chance.”

Hyunjin remained silent for a while, holding your gaze. You found you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face anymore, and it scared you shitless.

“If that’s what you want.”

*****

Present day

You stood behind Seonhwa, your hands a little clammy, as Jihoon was reading his vows.

Your friends’ wedding was a grand affair, one you had been expecting for quite some time now, as the two of them had been dating for what seemed like forever now. As the maid of honour, you had helped to prepare the wedding for months and to see everything going on perfectly felt quite gratifying.

Though, the sight of Jihoon’s best man made you feel… strange inside.

Hyunjin was dashing in his suit, blond hair styled in a man bun, piercing gaze moving from the couple to you every once in a while. Each time your eyes met, you felt as if your heart had forgotten how to beat.

You hadn’t seen each other in… well, years now. Though you had remained friends after that dreadful fight, you had lost touch as Hyunjin had debuted and grown distant with the whole group of friends. Or just you, apparently, if he was still Jihoon’s best man. An information Seonhwa had kept from you.

The ceremony moved on, and you tried to pay attention to it, ignoring the old ache in your chest every time Hyunjin looked at you.

You had been best friends, once. Until you had started dating your ex, and Hyunjin had confessed his feelings for you in the hope that you were not going to pursue your relationship with Hangyeol. Which honestly would have been the right thing to do, had you known any better.

Things had changed after that, and you had lost Hyunjin on your birthday the year he had debuted. He had ghosted you, actually. Had said he was going to meet you at the restaurant and had never shown up. Never answered any of your texts after that either.

Losing him had been sour, but back then you had Hangyeol, and you were happy with him. Or rather you had thought that you were happy.

After the ceremony, you moved into the reception hall, as your friends had decided to have a reception, a rare thing in Korea. The hall was a wide room decorated with plants and tall chandeliers, a room that looked straight out of a fairytale, if you were being honest. Especially with the soft fairy lights that were illuminating the place, and the crystal centerpiece that laid on each table. A long rectangular table held the presents that had been gifted to the bride and groom, even though most people had gifted money. Another long rectangular table was waiting for you all, at the end of the room.

Well, for Seonhwa, Jihoon, Hyunjin and you. The old squad, reunited after years apart.

“Have you talked to Hyunjin yet?” Seonhwa asked in ushered tones as you walked arm in arm towards your seats.

“Focus on your husband”, you reprimanded, though your eyes trailed to Hyunjin’s back.

“I can’t believe I’m married”, Seonhwa let out, looking down at the ring on her finger.

You chuckled, but you didn’t have time to talk more as you made it to your seats.

Soon enough, food was distributed, and you started eating, as the chatter of the guests filled the room with a euphoric buzz. Once dinner was over and the speeches were said, music replaced the conversation, and dancing ensued. You remained aside, looking over the evening, making sure that everything went smoothly, from the cake to the pictures.

As the night advanced, you found your maid of honour duties to finally be over, leaving you with… nothing to do but to watch the people partying and drinking. Soon enough, you found a glass in your hand, and you too indulged into the alcohol, as you watched Seonhwa and Jihoon partying as if there was no tomorrow.

“Hey”, a voice said beside you, and you didn’t have to look at the person to know who it was.

“Hey”, you let out.

You didn’t speak for a time, watching as your friends fell into a slow dance as a ballad replaced the lively beat that was playing a moment before.

“How… have you been doing?” Hyunjin asked.

You steeled yourself before glancing at him. He was much more beautiful up close, especially in the dim light. He looked… ethereal.

“I’ve been great”, you replied, politely, before your eyes moved back to the couples on the dancefloor. “How have you been doing?”

“Great”, he said. “I… it’s crazy to think that Seonhwa and Jihoon are married, uh?”

A small smile moved on your lips. “It is. We always knew that they were going to marry, though.”

“We did. Didn’t we make bets about it?”

You met his gaze again, your smile widening at the memories that filled your mind. “We did. You said they would have a kid before they married, didn’t you?”

Hyunjin chuckled. “I did. Seems like you won the bet.”

Eyes sparkling, you nodded. “I have. What was the winner supposed to get?”

“Wasn’t it a lifetime supply of bungeoppang or something of the sort?” he said.

“That, and the painting in your parents’ playroom.” You laughed as Hyunjin’s eyes widened.

“Right. Not our best work, though”, he said.

You shrugged. “You’re the only one of us who actually knew how to paint, it was to be expected.”

“You got paint all over my mother’s carpet”, Hyunjin recalled. “I had to buy a new one before she noticed.”

You laughed as your eyes moved back to your friends. “You didn’t want to move it, it was your fault.”

“Mmh, maybe”, Hyunjin let out, nodding slightly. “At least she didn’t notice.”

“Do you remember when we burned it? It smelled so bad!”

“It did.” He nodded as he put his hands in his pockets. “We were lucky we weren’t caught.”

“We really were. I think your mom would have hated me forever”, you said, a pensive look taking over your features as you recalled his mother.

You hadn’t seen the woman in forever.

“My mom has always loved you, she wouldn’t have batted an eyelash.” He shrugged as you met his gaze, an eyebrow cocked quizzically. “Trust me, as long as she hadn’t thought me responsible, we would have been good.”

“Right.”

Silence moved around you, and you took a sip of your glass.

“How’s work going?” he asked, words aimed to fill a silence you knew he wasn’t comfortable in.

“Great! I mean, I’ve published my first book”, you said shyly, avoiding his gaze.

He wet his lips. “I know, I’ve read it.”

Your eyes widened as you looked up to meet his gaze. “You have?”

He chuckled at the look on your face. “I rather liked Chung Hee. He kind of felt similar.”

You knew you had turned completely red when he started laughing.

“I… uh… right”, you let out, fumbling on your words. “I hope you didn’t mind.”

“No, on the contrary”, he said. “I liked it. Chung Hee and Cha Young’s ending was better than ours, though.”

“I didn’t want to write a book with a sad ending”, you said, your eyes falling to the glass in your hands.

“I… I missed you, Y/n.”

It was the raw truth behind those words that had you looking up at him again.

“I’m sorry for how things happened. I was a shit friend.”

“It’s okay”, you said, voice small. “I’m over it, now.”

He nodded once, before looking away, as the ballad ended and was replaced by another lively beat.

“You were right anyway”, you added after a time.

“About what?”

“I… assume Jihoon and Seonhwa told you about what happened with Hangyeol?” you asked.

He pursed his lips, before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So, at the end of the day, I probably should have listened to you”, you said, shrugging your shoulders. “But it’s all in the past now.”

He nodded once again. “It is. But I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did. I know it was a long time ago, but it sucked.”

“The night we fought, or when you ghosted me?” you asked, a tiny bit of venom seeping into your voice.

“Both. Mostly the ghosting, though. It was childish.”

It was strange to see how Hyunjin had matured. You didn’t quite feel like he was the teenager you had known, and you rather saw the adult in him. The man he was becoming every day.

“It was. But I’m not angry at you anymore. Being angry over stuff like that is a waste of time”, you said. Voice soft, because you wanted to reassure him. Wanted to relieve him of the heaviness that suddenly seemed to be plaguing him.

“You’re being too kind”, he let out, before sighing. “I don’t think I deserve your forgiveness.”

“Then why have you come to talk to me?” you asked, voice small.

He looked at you, scanning your features for a while before he spoke. “I wanted to apologize. When I saw you earlier… all the memories came flooding back. I don’t like the person that I was then, and I hate that I treated you the way that I did.”

“It’s okay, Jinnie, it really is. I’m over it now.”

His lips spread into a soft smile. “You’re as great as I remembered you to be.”

You chuckled slightly. “I’m the best, I know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, don’t start with that.”

“The door was wide open, of course I had to start.”

He laughed lightly, his eyes sparkling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest, and you took another long sip of your drink to calm yourself down.

“We should hang out again”, he said. “You could come to my next concert. You always said that you were going to be my number one fan.”

A soft smile moved on your lips. “Oh, I’ve been following your journey through the K-pop industry, don’t worry about it.”

“Have you now?” He smirked and you chuckled.

“Of course. Just because we had a falling out doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to support you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You know, a small part of me always imagined you cheering in the crowd. I’m glad I was right.”

You let out a loud laugh. “I’ve never been to any of your concerts, to be fair.”

You hadn’t been able to, even if you had gotten tickets twice.

“All the more reasons for you to come to the next one. We have one here in Seoul next week.”

“I’ll gladly come if you introduce me to Changbin”, you said, winking at him.

He scrunched up his nose as if in disgust. “I’m not even your bias?”

“Nah, you lost that privilege after you acted like a dick.” You shrugged, but mischief still lit up your gaze. “Besides, I’m more into Bangtan anyway.”

“Right, you already were into BTS back in high school”, he said, laughing. “But if I’m not your bias, then I don’t think you can come to my concert, unfortunately.”

It was his turn to wink at you.

“Your loss, then”, you said. “I have much better stuff to do anyway.”

“Of course you do. Like writing about me in a book.”

“Please, Chung Hee was merely inspired by you. I just used some of our stories.”

“Like that time we sneaked in the principal’s office.”

“Precisely like that.”

“And when you were sick because of some seafood and I had to take care of you.”

A blush crept on your cheeks. “You really read the book, did you?”

“Twice, actually. Seonhwa made me read it when she realized it was about us.”

You shook your head. “It isn’t about us. We never ended together.”

The silence that followed filled with tension as Hyunjin looked at you, his gaze intense with emotions you hadn’t expected to find there. Didn’t want to find there either.

“We indeed haven’t”, he said after a time. “Maybe… maybe we could try being friends again, though?”

It was hopeful, and it was what you wanted the most. Because talking to him right now had reminded you of what it had been like to have him in your life. The familiarity with which you interacted… you needed it, really. More than you imagined.

“I would like that very much”, you said, nodding slightly. “I miss your mother’s cooking.”

Hyunjin burst out laughing. “Of course that’s what you think of.”

“You can’t blame me, her kimchi is legendary.”

“I’ll ask her to make a batch for you, I’ll bring it at the concert.”

You grinned. “You better, if you want me to consider you as my bias.”

“Nuna, we both know I’ve always been secretly your bias.”

“Right.” You chuckled, glancing at the people around you.

Strangely enough, talking with Hyunjin made you feel … alone in the world. As if it was just you two, and you had an eternity in front of you.

“How have your parents been doing?” Hyunjin asked, the question taking you by surprise.

“Great! Awesome, really. They spend half the year in Toronto now, and my brother has gone back to Canada full time.”

“Oh, he has? He never really adapted to Seoul, didn’t he?”

You shrugged. “He was older when we came here so I guess… I guess it was harder for him? He was in his last year of high school and he barely was able to make any friends.”

“Yeah, I remember. You were always concerned for him.”

You nodded. “Still am. Though he’s engaged now, and they are expecting a child.”

“Adoption?”

“Yeah! Funnily enough, his boyfriend is Korean, but they met back in Toronto.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Awesome. He couldn’t fully escape Korea, couldn’t he?”

You laughed lightly. “Who can blame him, even I am in love with the Korean people, and you know how I hate people.”

Hyunjin laughed, before smirking. “Of course you are. That’s why I was always your favourite in high school.”

“You’re aware that everyone but me was Korean, right?”

He shrugged. “I still was your favourite, wasn’t I?”

You looked up, as if deep in thoughts. “Mmmh, I think I’ve always liked Jihoon better.”

“How scandalous, now that he’s married to Seonhwa.”

“I shall live my life in the regrets of never having told him he’s the better part of our group of friends”, you said, hand on your heart.

Hyunjin grinned goofily. “What a sad life.”

“At least I’ve got you as a consolation prize”, you said, winking at him as he furrowed his brows.

“Do you really, though?”

He winked as you pursed your lips to keep from smiling.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Always”, he said, cocking an eyebrow. “Especially if it annoys you.”

You chuckled, as silence moved around you. Though it was not an awkward silence. It felt comfortable with the familiarity that you always had had for each other… and you found you rather quite enjoyed it. Rather quite enjoyed that time and distance hadn’t changed you one bit. Even after the ache you both had caused the other.

“Do you want to dance?” Hyunjin asked, and your eyes widened slightly.

“I can’t dance with you, you’re a professional”, you replied quickly, as a small blush crept on your cheeks.

He shrugged. “Please, that’s never stopped you before.”

“You were barely a trainee back then, it doesn’t count”, you mumbled, as your heart raced in your chest.

He held out a hand for you, a small smile on his lips. Your eyes fell to his fingers, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor of them.

So, he was anxious, too.

“Your loss if I step on your feet”, you finally said, grabbing his hand lightly, skin barely touching because you didn’t know if you’d be able to really hold him.

Not when your heart seemed to be dancing to its own beat now, a beat you didn’t know was echoed in his own chest too.

Hyunjin led you to the dancefloor, right as a song ended and a new one began. A wide smile spread on your lips as you realized it was a BTS song.

“Too bad they haven’t put any Stray Kids in the playlist, uh?” you said.

Hyunjin threw a puzzled expression your way, before leaning forward.

“What?” he asked.

You moved a little closer, so you could talk directly in his ear. “I said too bad they haven’t put any Stray Kids on the playlist.”

Hyunjin chuckled, and his warm breath tickled your ear as he moved even closer to speak. “That would have been a tad awkward, no?”

“Mmh, you could have shown us some of your choreographies, I’d say that would have been a win for all of us.”

He laughed once again, and you shut your eyes. The proximity of him… it felt so natural, and yet wrong. Wrong, because he had just barely come back into your life. You didn’t want to risk losing him by doing something stupid.

“Come to my next dance rehearsal. Then you can see me dance.”

He pulled away, just enough to look into your eyes.

“I’ll even introduce you to Changbin.”

Your cheeks once again tinted with pink. “That would be awesome.”

“But first, show me your moves, nuna.”

You chuckled, before downing the rest of your glass. “I hope you’re ready for a disaster.”

“It would never be a disaster with you.” He winked at you, and you shook your head as you rolled your eyes.

“I didn’t remember you being a flirt”, you said, but before he could say anything else, Seonhwa threw her arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

Seonhwa drunkenly said your name in your ear, making you laugh lightly. “Dance with me.”

And just like that, Seonhwa pulled you away from Hyunjin, and the two of you started dancing together, laughing as you moved along to the music.

“You’ve been talking to Hyunjin-ah”, Seonhwa said as you spun in a circle.

You chuckled. “I would have continued if you hadn’t pulled me away from him.”

“I’m just waiting for the next slow song so I can push you back in his arms.”

You shared a laugh, before you looked down at the glass in your hand.

“I should go put that down somewhere before I drop it here and there’s glass everywhere.”

“Well, come back quickly, I asked for a slow song next”, Seonhwa said. “I’m not letting you avoid Hyunjin any longer.”

“I’m not avoiding him, you literally pulled me away from him”, you grumbled, glancing over her shoulder to meet Hyunjin’s gaze.

He smiled and you smiled back, though Seonhwa caught your attention once again.

“He’s been talking about you, you know”, Seonhwa let out, voice barely above a whisper.

The only reason why you heard was because the song ended, and the promised ballad started.

“You told him to read my book”, you said reproachfully.

Seonhwa shrugged. “Yeah. It didn’t take a lot of convincing, he had already bought it.”

Your eyes widened. “He had?”

“You seem to forget that you were best friends once.”

“He ghosted me”, you reminded your friend.

Heads started turning your way as your tones became more vehement, and as you stood unmoving in the middle of the dancefloor while people slow-danced around you.

“Because he couldn’t see you with Hangyeol”, Seonhwa explained. “Surely you were aware of that.”

“We were just friends”, you said, gaze flickering around at the few people that were looking at you.

Seonhwa didn’t know about your fight. Unless Hyunjin had told her, but she had never mentioned anything…

“You never looked at him as if he was just your friend.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s your wedding, let’s not talk about this.”

“Y/n…” Seonwha let out, but you were already walking away.

To where, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you had to get away.

On your way out, you put your empty glass down on a table, not once looking back to see if someone was following you. There was a garden outside, and you walked to the middle of it, where you found a small gurgling fountain next to which you sat, eyes moving up to the starry night sky.

You took a deep breath to calm down the wild beats of your heart, as you scolded yourself. For causing a scene at your best friend’s wedding, mostly. But for also thinking that everything between you and Hyunjin could be fixed by a simple conversation.

You had to remind yourself that you didn’t know him anymore. And no matter how much you had missed him, he had still been the one to ghost you. On your birthday, of all moments. Were you ever going to be able to forgive him for that?

The answer to that came to you far quicker than you thought it would, as the shuffling of footsteps was heard over the gurgling of the fountain. Your gaze moved towards the path from which you had come, down which Hyunjin was now walking. Towards you.

He looked even better under the light of a thousand stars, if that was possible.

“Are you okay?” he asked, walking closer.

His hands were in his pockets, and he looked the perfect picture of nonchalance. As if everything that was in your past didn’t matter anymore.

And truly, maybe it didn’t.

“Yeah, sorry”, you said, looking down at your hands in your lap. “I needed a breather.”

“Can I sit with you?” he asked as he stopped a few steps in front of you, as if not wanting to invade your privacy.

You nodded, patting the stone bench next to you. “Yeah, come here.”

He smiled, and soon enough he was sat next to you. Almost close enough for your thighs to touch, and the space between you felt alive with electricity.

“Don’t listen to Seonhwa”, Hyunjin said after a moment of silence. “She really wanted to set us up tonight.”

“What?” you let out, bewilderment filling your entire being.

He chuckled lightly. “Seonhwa is a busybody, and she has taken it upon herself to set us up. She said we should have always been together.”

“She didn’t tell me that”, you admitted. “I… She knows we’re not even friends anymore.”

Hyunjin seemed to tense next to you. “And that’s my fault. I’ll forever hate myself for it.”

You scanned his profile as he was looking down at the ground in front of his feet.

“But I’ve matured”, he added after a time. “And I don’t want to live my life without you in it.” He looked up to meet your gaze. “You were my best friend, Y/n. You still are.”

“Hyunjin-ah…” you let out breathlessly.

“I’m serious, it fucking sucks without you around.”

Silence met his words, as the echoes of them seemed to fill the air around you.

“Seonhwa really shouldn’t interfere in stuff that doesn’t concern her”, you eventually whispered.

He chuckled. “Yeah, indeed.”

Another few beats of silence passed, as you just exchanged a long look. A look that conveyed more than words ever could.

“I’ll come to your dance rehearsal and your concert, Jinnie. It fucking sucks without you in my life too”, you finally said.

The warm smile that grew on his lips put the stars to shame. “I would love that. Let’s be friends again.”

“Let’s please be”, you agreed.

He wet his lips, as his eyes twinkled with emotions. The same emotions he could see in your own eyes, you were sure of it.

“You look beautiful, by the way”, he breathed. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I didn’t really know how to approach you.”

You blushed, looking away from him. “Stop it. You aren’t usually one to compliment me.”

“It’s a new friendship, let’s set different rules for it”, he said, shrugging. “If you want.”

“You… just friends, right?”

He nodded. “I can’t offer you more anyway.” He paused, as you remained silent. “Not that you would want more, but you know what I mean.”

You almost said that you had wanted more since that day he had confessed to you, but you kept it in. Because it wasn’t entirely true, and your mind was just drowning in the softness of the moment.

“I do.” You nodded, a small smile growing on your lips.

And even though your heart seemed to beat steadier when he was next to you, you knew that you would be content in being just his friend. It was better than not having him in your life anyway.

*****

You bit your bottom lip, as anxiety moved through your blood. You had been anxious ever since you had gotten to the dance rehearsal, even more as Hyunjin had introduced you to the seven other band members. Who all seemed to know who you were already, and you didn’t quite know what to make of it.

You were currently at JYP entertainment’s studios, a place you had never expected you’d visit one day. The room in which you were was wide, with mirrors along one of the walls, in front of which the boys had been dancing for a while.

That also meant that you were hearing one of their unreleased songs on repeat, and you had had to sign an agreement not to record anything. It had all been very awkward, and you almost regretted coming. Especially after you were told you would have to sit in one corner of the room, from which the camera that was filming them couldn’t see you.

You hadn’t realized what being friends with Hyunjin was going to be like until you were sat in that corner.

“Fuck”, Hyunjin cursed as he plopped himself down next to you.

You looked at him as he wiped the sweat on his brow.

“I’m sorry I barely can talk to you”, he apologized. “I didn’t know we were going to be recorded today.”

You shrugged. “It’s okay, it feels like a private show.”

And it kind of did, but mostly it felt as if you were stuck in some kind of a dream.

You didn’t know if you liked it.

“Hope you enjoy it”, Hyunjin said, smiling as he took a deep breath. “It wouldn’t be so damn long if we didn’t keep messing up.”

“You’re the one messing up”, Changbin said as he stopped next to you two.

You looked up, meeting his gaze for half a moment before looking away.

You didn’t know what Hyunjin had told Changbin about you, but he was the member that had spoken to you the most ever since you had gotten here.

“We don’t usually have spectators”, Hyunjin said, shrugging.

You chuckled. “You perform in front of crowds all the time.”

“He’s been anxious about you being here”, Changbin admitted, and Hyunjin sprung to his feet.

“Shut it”, he said, pushing Changbin playfully as the guy laughed.

“Just being honest.” Changbin shrugged, and you chuckled as you watched Hyunjin’s cheeks turning red.

“Don’t listen to him”, Hyunjin said, meeting your gaze.

He held out a hand for you to take and you grabbed it as he pulled you to your feet.

“They’re just jealous that I’ve got a pretty girl coming to see me”, he added, winking at you as Changbin burst out laughing.

You knew you had turned beet red, but you tried to play it cool.

“So you think I’m pretty, uh?” you teased as you let go of his hands. “Too bad I really came here to see Changbin.”

Changbin’s eyes widened as he looked between the two of you. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“Who can blame you, Changbin’s the best of us”, Felix said as he threw an arm around said boy’s shoulders.

You laughed lightly, glancing at Hyunjin as you felt the weight of his gaze on you. He was smiling softly, and it warmed you inside.

Felix said something to Changbin that you couldn’t hear, and a second later the two boys were walking away, leaving you alone with Hyunjin.

“Do you like the new song?” he asked after a moment.

You nodded quickly. “Oh, it’s really good. I’m going to have it stuck in my head for a while now though.”

“The perks of hearing a song on repeat for hours on end”, Hyunjin said, laughing. “We should be done soon though.”

“No pressure, I have nothing to do today anyway.”

“Then if you want, I can give you a tour of the studios after?” he suggested, running a hand through his half-undone hair.

Though he had tied his hair back, dancing had caused him to be quite disheveled… and yet he still looked so effortlessly good.

It was unfair, really.

“Sure, I’d love to”, you accepted. “Only if we get something to eat too, I’m starving.”

Just on cue, your stomach grumbled, earning you a laugh from Hyunjin.

“Of course I’ll get you something to eat.” He undid his half bun, blond hair falling around his face.

You just watched him in awe as he tried to pull it back into a new bun, but failed to do so.

“Do you need help?” you asked, chuckling, as a few strands of hair escaped the bun.

“Honestly, I think I do.” He handed you the hair tie, before turning around.

You hoped he couldn’t feel your hands shaking as you raised them and ran them through his hair, once.

“You’ll have to bend down, you’re too tall for me”, you said, voice small.

“Right.” He obeyed, and you once again ran your hands through his hair.

It was silky soft, just like you remembered it, even though it was sweaty. You skillfully tied it back, massaging his scalp for a little before taking a step back.

Ignoring the way you could see Minho and Han looking at you and speaking in ushed tones.

“Thanks, nuna”, Hyunjin said as he straightened and turned to look at you, blocking the view of his band mates. “I’ll have to go back now, but we shouldn’t be long still.”

You nodded, pulling on the dry skin of your bottom lip. Hyunjin’s eyes dipped down to your lips, and you felt your cheeks burning.

Though they had been burning for a while, now, in all honesty.

You heard Hyunjin taking a deep breath before he turned around and walked away, leaving you standing there and feeling awkward.

You clearly couldn’t manage that friend thing at all.

You sat back down, fiddling with your fingers as the music started playing once again, and they went through the choreography a few times.

That distracted you from your thoughts… until you realized you were paying way too much attention to the way that Hyunjin was moving his body. It was then that you grabbed your phone instead of paying attention, because really you didn’t think you could trust your thoughts anymore.

You scrolled on Instagram while the boys practiced, not even realizing that the music had stopped until someone grabbed your phone out of your hands.

“Hey!” you let out.

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin asked. “Are we boring you?”

You scrambled to your feet, trying to grab your phone from Hyunjin’s hands, but he put it over his head, out of your reach.

“No, give me my phone”, you grumbled.

“Instagram is better than our dance rehearsal?” he asked as he looked up, scrolling on your phone. “Wait, were you really watching edits of us?”

“Give me my phone”, you begged as you tried to get to it.

He looked down at you, and you only then realized how close you were standing. Only then realized that you had put one hand on his chest to try to get to your phone.

You didn’t move for a time, only holding each other’s gaze. You looked between his two eyes, breath coming up short, until you glanced down at his lips.

That seemed to startle him out of the trance you had been in, and he took a step back, which almost made you stumble forward.

“Here”, he said, cheeks red and you grabbed your phone, a shot of electricity running through your arm as your fingers touched.

“Thanks”, you breathed as you looked down at the device to turn it off. “Are you finished yet?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can give you a tour now. Unless you want to eat first.”

He looked behind him, which had you looking at the other members too.

“I think the boys are going to get a bite and some drinks now, so it’s really up to you”, he said.

His eyes found yours again. “I… I don’t mind, do you want to go with them?”

He chuckled. “As long as you’re with me, I don’t mind what we do.”

You blushed, chuckling lightly. “Well then, we can go with them. If they don’t mind, that is.”

“Of course they don’t mind”, Hyunjin reassured you. “They’re going back home, though.”

“Right, you all live together”, you said.

He nodded. “Yeah, so I can give you a tour another time, maybe?” He scratched the nape of his neck, tilting his head to the side. “If you’d like that, of course.”

“Yeah. Yes, definitely.” You looked at Bang Chan, who was walking towards you.            

“So, are you guys coming?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’ll be right behind you”, Hyunjin replied.

“Don’t be too long, we’re starving.” Bang Chan smiled at you, before meeting up with the boys at the door. They exited the room, leaving you and Hyunjin alone, as the staff had already left too.

“Thank you for coming”, Hyunjin said. “I really am sorry I couldn’t talk to you more.”

A smile grew on your lips. “It’s fine, Jinnie, at least we’re hanging out now.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. And you’ll be happy to know I have some of my mom’s kimchi at the dorm.”

Your eyes lit up as you grinned. “This is the best day of my life.”

His lips spread into a smile too, and he nodded towards the door. “I can get you some of that bungeoppang too. Since you won the bet about Seonhwa and Jihoon.”

“Right, I had forgotten about that”, you said, laughing lightly. “Let’s do that. You’re going to have to give me that painting too.”

“It’s in my room, just leave with it”, he said, smiling. “It’ll be missed dearly, though.”

“Wait”, you said, eyes widening. “You brought it to your dorm?”

He wet his lips, nodding. “Yeah, how else was I supposed to remember where I came from?”

“A weird way to keep you humble.”

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “The dorm needed decoration anyway, so I figured why not.”

“Right.” You chuckled. There was a silence, during which you just looked at each other. You didn’t like the way that it made you feel inside, but you couldn’t stop looking at him. “Should we go, before the members leave without us?”

“I’ll grab my stuff, hold on.”

 You watched as he jogged to the other side of the room, where he had left a duffel bag with god knows what in it, as he hadn’t even touched it. You followed him as he aimed for the door, turning to look at you.

“I’m really happy you came”, he said, a soft smile lighting up his eyes.

“That’s what she said”, you joked, and Hyunjin burst out laughing.

“I really fucking missed your childish jokes”, he said as you left the room.

You grinned wickedly. “Happy to provide with your daily dose of bad jokes.”

He laughed, eyes crinkled with his smile. “Hopefully you won’t start with puns again.”

“Seonwha has always been better than me with puns, don’t worry about it.”

You continued chatting for a while, falling back into your usual familiarity, all tension gone from the conversation. You made it to the dorm as you talked and joked and laughed, as if no time had passed between you. As if you still were kids in high school, with no responsibilities and worries in life.

It was healing, really. To be with him like that again.

And even though you hadn’t known his band mates before today, they all were welcoming too. Warm, even, though they all seemed to be keeping some sort of a distance. It had you wondering what Hyunjin had said about you, and you figured it was better if you didn’t know.

After you all ate – Hyunjin’s mom’s kimchi was as good as you remembered – you sat in the living room of one of their dorms, drinking soju and beer and chatting about everything and nothing. The boys eventually started playing Smash on a switch, and you found yourself sitting on the couch, between Hyunjin and Changbin. The latter was sitting really close to you, and the heat of his body made you feel… strange inside.

All the stranger, because each time you looked at Hyunjin he had a knowing smile on his lips.

Was he trying to set you up with Changbin?

 “Should we invite Hayoon and her friends?” Bang Chan said from where he was laying on the floor.

“You want a consolation prize because I’ve just beaten your ass in Smash?” Felix asked.

Bang Chan threw a pillow at Felix, and the group laughed.

Only you seemed to have noticed that Hyunjin had tensed next to you.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Seungmin asked. “Didn’t she have sex with Jinnie last week?”

That explained Hyunjin’s tensing. Your eyes widened slightly, and you glanced at Hyunjin as the boy seemed to want to disappear through the floor.

 “Shut up, Seungmin”, Hyunjin grumbled.

There was a silence, and Bang Chan, Felix and Seugmin turned to look at Hyunjin. The latter’s eyes widened as he glanced at you, before resuming his attention on Hyunjin.

“Sorry bro”, Seungmin let out.

There was another awkward silence, only interrupted by the music of the game on the television. Bang Chan eventually scraped his throat, before handing his controller to Jeongin.

“Should we play another round?” he asked. “Who hasn’t played yet?”

Though you hadn’t played, you remained silent, sipping on your beer instead. You had never been quite a fan of beer, but you had assumed that drinking would help ease your nerves. It seemed you had been wrong.

Or maybe realizing that Hyunjin had an entire side to him that you didn’t know of was making you feel anxious.

“Do you want to play?” Changbin asked you, voice low so only you could hear.

You blushed slightly – talking to one’s bias was definitely not an easy feat.

“I’m trash, I don’t think I should play”, you replied and he chuckled.

“It doesn’t matter, we’re just playing around”, he reassured you, smiling softly.

You nodded once. “Alright then, I guess I can play.”

Changbin handed you the controller he was holding and you put your beer down on the coffee table in front of you. You sat back in the couch, glancing once at Hyunjin, who was looking down at the bottle he was holding.

“Do you know how to play?” Changbin asked.

“She’s just going to press all the buttons and call it a day”, Hyunjin said from beside you.

You stifled a laugh and you turned your head towards him.

The small smile on his lips reassured you in ways you couldn’t quite yet understand.

“And what about it?”

He laughed and you smiled softly, before turning back towards Changbin.

“I’ll be fine, I don’t care if I lose”, you said and Changbin chuckled.

“Jeongin is good, so you were probably going to lose anyway.”

You all laughed, and then started playing the game. You chose the Wii fit trainer as your character, which led to you being unable to stop laughing during all the fight, and of course Jeongin beat your ass. Though you couldn’t even stop laughing afterwards, especially not when Hyunjin played next and won against Jeongin, by playing with said Wii fit trainer.

You kept on playing for a while, and soon enough your mind was buzzing with alcohol and you felt far more comfortable with all the boys. It helped that Hyunjin was being a little sassy shit, and you and Changbin teamed up against him, teasing him to no end.

It was one hell of a great night, if you were being honest to yourself.

“How did you guys meet?” Changbin asked later that night, after Felix, Minho, Seungmin and Jeongin had gone back to their own dorm.

Bang Chan had disappeared in his room a while ago too, but Han was still with you, playing Smash online. He was currently winning his fourth game in a row.

“His first day of high school”, you said. “I was showing his class around the school and he started talking to me because he wanted to know where I was from.”

“And you had a tea and you dropped it on me, don’t forget”, Hyunjin recalled, tone teasing. “You’re lucky it wasn’t hot anymore.”

“You’re the one who ran into me, dumbass”, you said, laughing. “Wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been looking at me like that instead of looking at where you were going.”

“I was following you, of course I was looking at you! You just stopped dead in your tracks.”

“Mmh”, you let out.

You both turned towards Changbin, who had followed your exchange with slightly widened eyes.

“That’s cute”, he said as you just looked at him.

You all chuckled and then Han cheered, gaining your attention as he won his fifth game in a row.

“I’m on fire tonight baby”, he said, and Hyunjin high-fived him before sitting back in the couch.

“You’re only winning because you’re not playing against one of us”, he said.

Han turned towards Hyunjin, an offended look on his features. “Fuck off, Jinnie.”

You all started laughing, and then Han handed Hyunjin a controller.

“If you think you’re so good, then try to win against me.”

“I’ve drunk way too much for that”, Hyunjin admitted, shaking his head no. “Though I’d take another beer.”

You chuckled, feeling pretty drunk yourself. “I think we drank everything you guys had.”

“This is the end of the world”, Hyunjin said, putting a hand on his heart dramatically. “We’re all going to die.”

“Shut up, loser.” You laughed, punching him playfully in the shoulder.

Though you were still sitting closer to Changbin, the space between you and Hyunjin once again filled with electricity. As it often did now.

Hyunjin grabbed your hand, a smirk moving over his features. “We should play against each other. I’m pretty sure I’ll beat your ass.”

“Anyone here could beat my ass”, you complained. “Why would I play against you?”

“If you win I’ll let you sleep in my bed”, he said, head tilting to the side. “I’ll take the couch.”

You furrowed your brows. “Who said I’m sleeping here?”

Changbin chuckled from beside you, as if aware of what Hyunjin was planning. Because clearly, he was up to no good.

“I did”, Hyunjin replied, shrugging. “I won’t let you walk home so late.”

Brows still knit together, you grabbed your phone to check the time. “Oh shit.”

Han laughed as he threw you a look over his shoulder.

“So, you’re staying tonight”, Hyunjin declared. “And you get the bed if you win against me.”

“I’d say yes if I were you, Y/n”, Changbin said from beside you. “Chan’s room is close and he snores loudly, you don’t want to have to sleep in the living room.”

You glanced at Changbin, before returning your gaze to Hyunjin’s. “It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

His smirk only widened. “Well then, why don’t we head to bed? I’m tired.”

Right on cue, he yawned, which in turn made you yawn too. Changbin and Han remained silent, as if aware that you two needed privacy for a moment.

“You promise to stay on your side of the bed?” you asked softly.

“Of course, nuna”, he replied gently, his smirk melting into a soft smile. “Shall we?” he asked, getting up and extending a hand out for you to take.

You did, entwining your fingers, before glancing at Changbin.

“It was nice to meet you”, you told him, before looking towards Han, who had started another game. “You too, Jisung.”

“Nice to meet you”, the two boys echoed, and you got up to follow Hyunjin to his bedroom.

Strangely enough, it felt as if your heart was going to burst in your chest. And not because you were happy, but rather because you were becoming more and more anxious with every step you took. You could feel Hyunjin’s hand shaking in yours, so you knew he was feeling exactly the same way.

What was wrong with you?

You walked into Hyunjin’s bedroom, and the boy closed the door behind you as you took a few steps forward in the cool darkness of the room. Red LED lights turned on, and you spun around to look at Hyunjin.

You looked at each other in silence for a time, until your eyes scanned the room, landing on the painting that was hung over his bed.

“I can’t believe you’ve put it on display like that”, you murmured, right as Hyunjin moved farther into his room, sitting on the side of his bed.

“It holds great memories, how could I not?” he whispered.

You walked to his side, sitting next to him, as he looked at his hands in his lap.

“I know we have barely started to talk again…” you started, putting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer. “But I’m really happy to be here with you.”

“You have no idea how happy I am too”, he replied, putting his head on top of yours. “You remind me of before.”

“Before what?” you asked curiously.

“All of this”, he said, motioning with his other hand to your surroundings. “Sometimes I forget that I wasn’t always an idol… and I miss it. I miss when life was simpler.”

You pursed your lips, moving a little closer to him. “I miss it too. Not when you weren’t an idol, because to me you haven’t changed, but when we used to make memories every day. Those are the best memories of my life.”

“Even when I accidentally burned some of your hair with your curling iron?”

You chuckled, smiling fondly at the memory. “Even that. All of it, if I’m being honest.”

Though you had looked quite weird for a time, as the strand of hair hadn’t grown back in over a year.

Hyunjin sighed and you looked up at him, pulling away slightly so you could gaze into his eyes.

“We were stupid, weren’t we?” he asked.

It was your turn to sigh. “We were young. Stupidity and youth often go hand in hand together.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “We’re still young, you know that, right?”

You nodded. “We’re not teenagers anymore, though. So, we’re a little less stupid.”

“I wish I still was stupid”, he murmured, as his eyes dipped to your lips.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you became all too aware of every inch of him that was touching you. “Please don’t”, you breathed.

He slightly nodded before getting up and moving away from you. “You’ve never dated after Hangyeol, have you?” he asked as he started rummaging through a drawer.

The change of subject had the effect of a cold shower on you. “No. Well, yes and no. I went on a blind date once, but it didn’t go well.”

“Mmh”, he let out, as he got an oversized white sweater out of the drawer. He threw it at you and you caught it, looking at him quizzically. “So, you don’t sleep in your clothes.”

“Oh”, you said. You looked down at yourself, and then at his unmade bed. “You still don’t make your bed.”

He chuckled, and when you turned to look at him your mind went completely blank.

He had taken off his shirt without you realizing.

You blushed, looking down at the sweater in your hands, as your heart went crazy in your chest. You heard him putting on a shirt more than you saw him, and you didn’t look up until he moved closer to you.

“There’s a bathroom outside of my room. First door to the right, if you want to get changed in private.”

You nodded, before getting up. “You’re sure you don’t mind me sleeping here?”

He smiled, cocking an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say it isn’t our first time sleeping together anyway?”

You rolled your eyes, before moving around him to head to the door. “Right, never mind.”

His laugh followed you out of the bedroom, and you went to the bathroom, where you changed, hands trembling slightly at the thought of putting on some of his clothes.

Just like when you were younger.

You moved back to his bedroom when you were done, only dressed in the oversized sweater, which rested around the middle of your thigh. Not something you would have worn in public, but it would suffice for sleeping.

Hyunjin was already in bed, scrolling on his phone, when you walked in. He glanced at you, and quickly looked away as you put your clothes down on the chair of his desk. He had put a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed, and you laughed as you moved closer.

“Did you really do that?” you asked, sitting on the left side of the bed.

He looked at you from his side. “I figured you wanted your privacy.”

You smiled softly. “How kind.”

You settled down under the covers, turning to face Hyunjin. You pulled down one of the pillows until his face came into view.

“I like the LED lights”, you said. “Gives the room a chill vibe.”

He looked around, before resuming his attention on you. “It does. Red is better when you go to bed anyway.”

You furrowed your brows.

“Something about your brain producing melatonin”, he said, shrugging his shoulders – which proved to be awkward in his position.

“Right”, you nodded.

You looked at each other for a time, until you looked away. Holding his gaze was becoming far too difficult when he looked at you like… that.

“You keep your hair tied back when you sleep?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

Change it from what, you didn’t know.

“Ah”, he let out. “I don’t.” He sat up, untying his hair.

It fell around his face, and he put the hair tie on his night table before lying down again.

“Can I play with your hair?” you asked, unaware that you were going to ask until the words had crossed your lips.

It was hard to tell in the red light, but you were pretty sure he had blushed.

“You’ve always loved to do that, have you?”

It was your turn to blush, and you really did hope that the red light was hiding it.

“Your hair is really soft”, you explained, or tried to, because really you had no idea why you had asked in the first place.

He moved closer, turning around so you had access to the back of his head.

It was easier to breathe when he wasn’t looking at you, you realized. That was until you started running a hesitant hand through his hair, and he sighed as you massaged his scalp.

“I think the part I missed the most about us is this”, he whispered, and you chuckled.

“I thought you missed my jokes”, you said, teasing.

He laughed. “Nothing beats you playing with my hair.”

“Not even when other girls do it?” you asked, as your fingers paused their dance in his hair.

He didn’t reply for a long time. “You heard what Seungmin said, uh?”

“Well, it was hard not to hear it, he yelled it”, you said, tone… hesitant, really. Because you didn’t know why you were bringing that up.

It wasn’t like you cared, no?

“I don’t date, if that reassures you”, he said. “But… I’m not against casual sex.”

You resumed playing with his hair. “Do you do that a lot?”

You would have given a lot to be able to look him in the eyes as you had asked the question.

“Not particularly”, he replied. “I don’t do feelings and relationships, so…”

“Because of the clause?”

He chuckled, and it sounded bitter. “Not really. The clause has never really stopped anyone.”

Your heart picked up its pace as the words settled in. “Then why don’t you?”

“I…” he let out, before pausing for a long time. So long you almost thought he was never going to reply. “I’ve never really met anyone that I’ve liked enough to consider that.”

You almost gulped, as your fight echoed in your mind, even though years had passed since then.

He hadn’t met anyone after you, he meant. You were convinced of it.

“I’m sorry”, you breathed.

“Don’t be, it’s not like I really have time to date anyway”, he said.

He turned on his back, glancing at you as your hand hovered next to his face. “Why didn’t you date after your ex?”

You turned on your back too, hand moving away from him, though the silky ghost of his hair still played on your fingers.

“It didn’t really end well, as you already know”, you whispered. “It’s been hard to trust anyone since then.”

Though he was unaware that most of your trust issues came from when he had ghosted you.

“I wish I would have been wrong”, he said gently. “You didn’t deserve the way he treated you.”

Your heart ached in your chest for a moment. You remembered the fight, and how he had warned you about Hangyeol… Ever since Hangyeol had told you he had been cheating, you had often found yourself wondering. Wondering what would have happened if you had listened to Hyunjin. If you had decided to give him a chance, back then.

A part of you wondered if you would have been like Jihoon and Seonwha.

“Nobody deserves to be cheated on���, you said, shrugging it off. Because you didn’t want him to remind you of just how much you had screwed up.

“Yeah.”

You fell silent, looking up at his ceiling, until he turned to look at you. It took you a while to look at him too. Your eyes fell to the mole under his left eye, and you pursed your lips.

“We should go to sleep.” Your words were barely above a whisper, and he slightly nodded.

“We should”, he agreed. “Thank you for coming today.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Jinnie.”

You exchanged a soft smile, until you yawned once again.

“I’ll take that as a cue to turn off the lights”, Hyunjin said, chuckling. “Good night, nuna.”

“Good night”, you replied, sighing as you nuzzled your face in the silk of your pillow. The room fell dark, the echo of the red light playing against the sudden darkness. “Stay on your side of the bed.”

He laughed lightly, the sound the last thing you heard before falling asleep, far quicker than you had in a while now.

*****

                You woke up with a pounding headache, feeling way too warm for your own good. You kept your eyes shut for a while, apprehending the moment you’d open them… until you realized why you felt so warm.

And no, it wasn’t because you were wearing a sweater.

Your eyes fluttered open, breath catching in your throat as you realized that Hyunjin was pressed against you, face nuzzled in your neck as you were laying on your back. His arm was on your stomach, and his soft breathing indicated to you that he was still very much so asleep.

Asleep and cuddling you, for God’s sake.

You didn’t move for a while, breathing in the scent of him as his proximity filled your nose with the fragrance of his shampoo, and maybe some cologne he had been wearing last night. His hair was tickling your face, and you slightly turned it away from him, though you didn’t quite feel like putting any sort of distance between you.

Not when he seemed so peaceful.

As your heart raced in your chest, you hoped that he couldn’t hear it. Really fucking hoped, otherwise you were afraid it’d wake him up.

You took a steadying breath as you shut your eyes once again. His room was still dark, so there was no use to getting up. Especially not when he was close to you like that, and it felt as if no time had separated you at all.

You wondered what he would think, if he were to wake up right now, so close to you you could feel his chest moving every time he took a breath. You liked to think that he would be happy. That, maybe, he had done it on purpose, and not while he was sleeping.

 It was a dangerous thought to have, when your friendship was still so precarious. So close to falling off the edge, you felt… threatened. By him. By the thought of him and his words and the way he was still looking at you after all these years.

Best friends indeed.

Hyunjin’s arm tightened around your stomach, and he pulled you even closer. Too close for your own comfort. Where the hell was the pillow wall anyway?

“Everything alright?” Hyunjin whispered, startling you.

“You’re not asleep?” you asked.

He chuckled, deep sound reverberating through his chest. “I was.”

He made no move to move away from you, and you felt yourself relaxing, even if the proximity of him… it was a danger. A threat to your own sanity.

“Seems I’ve crossed the pillow wall”, he whispered against the skin of your neck, and the feeling of his lips on you made you lose your mind.

“Hyunjin-ah…” you breathed out, heart beating out of your chest.

“I’ll go back to my side”, he said. Though he didn’t move for a time. As if waiting for you to ask him to stay.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t ask him that, knowing just how dangerous it was to let him in like that. He had broken your heart without a single ounce of regret, hadn’t he?

Though maybe you had been the one to break his heart in the first place.

The weight of his arm lifted from your stomach, and you almost whined at the loss of contact. It scared you shitless.

 He moved away, and the bed suddenly seemed very cold. Though the cold came from within, and you were all too aware of it.

“I’m sorry I cuddled you like that”, he said after a moment of silence.

“Oh”, you let out. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

In fact… you were disappointed. Disappointed that he had moved away, and you hadn’t asked him to stay close.

You rather liked to have him so close to you like that.

“Good.” He yawned, and you glanced his way, though you couldn’t quite see him in the darkness. “Good night”, he added a few seconds later, and his breathing evened out, indicating that he had already fallen back asleep.

You almost were jealous of it, as you knew sleep would avoid you for the rest of the night. Especially since your heart was still racing in your chest, and it didn’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon.

Fucking hell.

*****

The next few days passed in a weird anxious blur, with you and Hyunjin not seeing each other except that morning after you had slept in the same bed. He texted you a lot though, more than you had thought he would, and it really felt as if no time had passed. As if you were still the same Jinnie and Y/n, and really you loved every second of it.

Especially as you finished the first draft of your second novel, and submitted to your editor a week in advance. Not a big win, but something you were proud of nonetheless. It seemed you had found your inspiration back, and you were no fool.

You knew it was all thanks to Hyunjin.

The day of the concert came far quicker than you had thought it would, and you stood in front of your closet for a long while, not knowing what to wear at all. You still had Hyunjin’s sweater, but you didn’t feel it was… appropriate, for a concert. Especially not when Hyunjin had posted pictures of him in that sweater in the past, so fans could connect the dots between you.

Something you didn’t want happening, as you were just friends.

Instead, you chose a short black skirt, that you paired with a white t-shirt, along with black converse shoes. It was a cute yet simple outfit, that you paired with your lilac purse.

You curled your hair, putting on a bit of make-up too. Just eyeliner and mascara, as you had to get to the venue in advance. Indeed, Hyunjin had invited you to the soundcheck during the afternoon, and you didn’t want to miss it for the world.

You made your way to the concert venue with public transport, mind filled with memories of you and Hyunjin back in the days. Mostly, you thought about his parents, whom you hadn’t seen since before he had ghosted you, and whom you had already appreciated, as they had always made you feel welcomed under their roof. You wondered if Hyunjin would invite you over for dinner, and you thought maybe you should suggest it to him.

After all, he had been the one to invite you to the dance rehearsal earlier this week, and to the concert today. It was only fair if you tried to plan something now.

You made a mental note to talk to him about it when you would get the chance today, as you got out of public transport to walk the rest of the distance to the venue. You texted him that you were there, and he told you to meet him at a garage entry, which proved to be a lot harder to find than you had expected.

After fifteen minutes of searching, Hyunjin called you on your phone, clearly wondering what was taking so long. You picked up the call, unable to hide the annoyance from your voice.

“Where the fuck is the garage?” you asked and he burst out laughing.

“You know where the front doors are?”

“Yeah”, you let out.

“Turn left from there. It’s on the other side of the building, but that’s the quickest way to get there.”

“I’ll be there soon. But please stay with me”, you begged, as you quickened your pace to make it back to the front doors.

“They’re expecting me in five minutes, so be quick”, he said, voice sounding far from the phone. “I’ll hide so they don’t find me here.”

You chuckled, as you neared the corner of the building. “I’m almost back to the front.”

“I’d meet you there if I wasn’t afraid to be seen by fans”, he said.

“It sucks to be famous, does it?” you teased him.

Though a crowd of fans came into view, which surprised you, because the doors didn’t open until seven tonight. But then again, you also had arrived early to all the BTS concerts you had gone to, so you didn’t blame Stray Kids’ fans for doing the same.

You walked around the crowd, picking up your pace even more as Hyunjin sighed.

“They’re calling my name”, he whispered in the phone. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“I’m not going to start running, that would be suspicious”, you said. “Hold on, I’m almost there.”

Soon enough, you finally found the garage, and Hyunjin walked out of where he was hiding, though you could barely call it a hiding spot. The crew hadn’t really searched for him if they hadn’t seen him standing behind the bus.

“Hey”, he said, hanging up the phone as you came into view.

You jogged towards him, and you quickly hugged, before walking in the building.

“This place was far too hard to find”, you grumbled as Hyunjin led you down a hallway.

He chuckled. “I’m glad you made it though. Tonight’s going to be fun.”

As he smiled at you over his shoulder, you felt your cheeks burning. It was going to be fun indeed, especially since she was going to be with him.

Well, not when he was going to be on the scene, of course. But the rest of the time yes.

You followed Hyunjin down a few hallways, almost jogging behind him as he was walking far quicker than your small legs could allow you. He laughed at you, and you playfully pushed him.

“You’re annoying”, you said.

“You’ve got tiny legs”, he countered-back.

You squinted your eyes at him in annoyance. “The concert has better be good if you made me come here just to insult me.”

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked at you. “Our concerts are never bad, nuna.”

You moved into a wider room, where people were running around, trying to get everything ready in time for the concert.

“Hyunjin-ah!” a young woman said as she stopped next to you. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere, the others are already on the scene.”

“Sorry, I was waiting for her slow ass”, he apologized, pointing to you.

“Hey!” you let out, and you moved to punch him but he jogged out of your reach, before turning around and winking at you.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t miss me too much”, he teased, and then he was gone.

You just stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. The young woman who had talked to Hyunjin hadn’t moved, and she looked between you and the place where Hyunjin had disappeared.

“So, you must be Y/n”, she said, as her eyes finally settled on you.

You nodded, though a slight blush crept on your cheeks. Had Hyunjin told everyone about you already?

“I’m Yuna”, the girl said. “Nice to meet you.”

You bowed at the same time, as you echoed Yuna’s last words.

“I’m Hyunjin’s hair stylist”, Yuna continued. “I was supposed to dye his hair before the soundcheck.” She sighed, and you only then noticed the hair product Yuna was holding.

“I can help you with that after, if you want”, you suggested.

Yuna’s eyes lit up. “That would be really helpful.”

“I’d be glad to help”, you said, smiling. Though a tiny part of you knew why you had suggested…

Goddamn it, were you really jealous of his hair stylist?

As you waited for Hyunjin to finish the soundcheck, you moved closer to the stage, though you didn’t really have a good view of it from backstage. A crew member told you that there were going to be TVs later, which was a relief, but you still managed to catch a glimpse of the boys as they sang a couple of songs, just to make sure the mics were well tuned and that everything was going to go smoothly later.

Once Hyunjin came back, along with the others, you stood to the side to let everyone pass, as Hyunjin was the last one in the line. He stopped next to you, a little out of breath and smiling widely, and truly he looked so happy it almost made your heart burst right then and there.

“Excited for tonight?” he asked.

You grinned back at him, unable to hold your smile in when he was looking at you like that. “Yes. But now we’ve got to get your hair dyed.”

He nodded, and you walked back towards the main backstage room. “Yeah, my hair is going red for tonight.”

“Ooh, can’t wait to see”, you said, chuckling. “I’ll help your stylist because I was the one to cause the delay.”

Hyunjin smiled, and his fingers brushed the back of your hand as you walked towards the chair where Yuna was waiting for you. The feel of his fingers against your hand had your heart missing a couple of beats, and you quickly pulled your hand away, pretending to put your hair behind your ear.

You were blushing again, for God’s sake.

“Yuna looks pissed, doesn’t she?” Hyunjin whispered as you walked, and you chuckled, though it sounded more like you were choking on air.

You really needed to get a hold of yourself when you were around him. You barely were friends again, and there you were letting your heart betray you like that.

“She does”, you said after a few more seconds of silence. “She probably hates me.”

“Nobody can hate you, nuna”, he reassured you, gently nudging you with his elbow. “Except when you’re being a little shit, then I do hate you.”

“Jinnie!”

You laughed as you punched him in the shoulder.

“You’re even worse than you were before.”

“Oh, you’ve barely seen anything”, he said, chuckling, as you finally reached Yuna’s side.

Yuna got up from the chair, motioning at it with her hand. Hyunjin sat, and soon enough she had a towel wrapped around his shoulders to make sure no dye got on his shirt. She then handed some gloves to you, and you put them on as Hyunjin carefully watched you in the mirror in front of him.

“What?” you asked as you grabbed some of the product.

“Careful not to get some in my eyes”, he said, winking at you.

“Just close your eyes and let us work”, Yuna said, patting him on the shoulder.

The familiarity of the move made you twice as jealous as you already were. You swallowed down the feeling, though it had a vile taste.

You really didn’t like how you felt around Hyunjin.

You all fell silent as Yuna showed you how to apply the product, and soon enough you got to work, as Hyunjin scrolled on his phone. As if he too sensed the awkwardness in the air. Or maybe that was just you, and you were being jealous for absolutely no reason.

With the help of the hair stylist, you dyed Hyunjin’s hair red, using a towel to prevent from putting some dye on his face, though the dye was said to be washable with water. Soon enough, Hyunjin’s hair had turned a bright shade of red, and the hair stylist sauntered off after having rinsed the little dye that you had accidentally put on the nape of his neck.

Hyunjin turned towards you as soon as the stylist left, a wicked smile on his lips.

“How do you like it?” he asked.

“What?” you let out.

He rolled his eyes. “The hair, dumbass.”

“I know, I was just teasing you.” You winked at him, and then made a good show of looking at his hair. Though he looked really fucking good, you weren’t going to tell him that, no? “It suits you well, though it’s a really bright color, is it not?” 

He shrugged. “It’s just for the show. It’ll wash off tonight in the shower.”

“My hard work, gone so soon?” you said, putting a dramatic hand over your heart.

“You’ll just have to do it all again at the next concert”, he said, chuckling. 

Though you didn’t miss the way his cheeks slightly tinted with pink.

“I can’t make it to all your concerts”, you said, scanning his features. 

His face slightly fell, but a make-up artist stopped next to him, and he couldn’t reply.

The make-up artist began by putting blue contacts in his eyes, before applying some make up on his features. You carefully watched, trying to ignore the weird tingle in your heart every time the make-up artist brushed her fingers against his face.

Really, it wasn’t normal for you to feel like that. That thought kept spiralling in your mind for the whole concert, so much so that you found you couldn’t quite enjoy it. No, panic was slowly gaining a hold of you, and you didn’t know what to do with it. Didn’t know if you should accept that, after all these years, your feelings towards him hadn’t changed at all.

It was terrifying, really, even if he seemed to display those same feelings. He had broken your heart three times – when he had asked to just be friends, when he had told you about his own feelings, and then when he had ghosted you. You would be a fool to let him in this time, just because the timing seemed… better.

You pushed the thoughts aside when the concert finished, even though they kept haunting the far back of your mind. It was nothing a bit of alcohol wouldn’t numb anyway.

You returned to the dorms after the concert, along with the other members. They all seemed over energetic, and buzzing electricity moved through the whole group as they sat around the kitchen table, eating what you considered to be a literal feast.

It was easy to be with Hyunjin in a setting such as that one. He was a friend, and not… whatever else he could be when you were alone. Which was a relief, because those thoughts really weren’t that far. Even after all the soju that you had drunk while eating.

And it was fun. A buzzing kind of fun, the fun that came when one had their mind swimming with alcohol. Not enough to reach the point of no return, but just enough to reach… this feeling. This euphoria that was gaining control of you with every laugh and smile. 

The members of Stray Kids truly knew how to have fun, behind close doors. And they also really knew how to make someone feel welcome. Really, you almost felt as if you had always been friends with them, as if they were all part of that friendship you had shared with Hyunjin. And maybe that was the reason why you were so comfortable – because they were Hyunjin’s closest friends, like you had once been. Like you wished you would be again someday. 

“Nuna”, Hyunjin said, moving closer to whisper in your ear.

Everything in you stopped at once, and you hoped he didn’t notice the way you had stiffened next to him. 

“What?”

“What do you think about Changbin?” he asked. 

Your eyes trailed to the man in question, and you exchanged a small smile before you resumed your attention on Hyunjin.

“Why are you asking?”

“Do you like him?” he asked, once again moving close to you so he could whisper in your ear.

Your brows knit together. “I barely know him.”

“Would you like him?” Hyunjin asked again, speech slightly slurred by the alcohol.

You almost died right on the spot when Hyunjin’s lips brushed your ear as he spoke. You ignored the looks the other members were throwing at you as you focused on the space between you and Hyunjin.

There really wasn’t much space, wasn’t it?

“Why do you want to know that?” you enquired, voice breathy.

“You…” he let out. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Hyunjin-ah”, you breathed as he once again brushed his lips against the lobe of your ear. You slightly moved out of his reach, though you leaned to whisper in his own ear. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know”, he let out, and your eyes shut as he sighed, and the warmth of his breath brushed the skin of your neck.

You slightly turned your face towards him, no longer in control with yourself. All you knew was that you, too, wanted to press your lips against his ear.

Though you went as far as nibbling on his ear, alcohol inhibiting all restraint you usually would have had. All restraint you thought you had, actually.

Clearly, you hadn’t had much.

He sighed once again, a hand moving up so he could brush your hair behind your shoulder, and his mouth immediately moved, barely pressing on the spot where the collar of your shirt stopped. He left a light kiss there, and you slightly opened your eyes, looking down at him.

Until he moved up, face a few inches away from yours. Far enough so you could see the blue of his contacts and his red hair. Close enough to know there was no turning back now.

You leaned in, closing the space between you. The space and the time that had separated you, really.

You lightly brushed your lips against his, and your eyes shut in synch as Hyunjin let out a shuddering breath. Your heart started racing in your chest, and you were pretty sure you were trembling when he pecked her lips. 

You were in your own little world, away from everyone else. In your own little bubble of peace and contentment, really. A place where you should have met a long time ago.

You fully pressed your lips against his, the taste of soju on his mouth making you dizzy inside. Even more so, as he ran a hand through your hair, grabbing the back of your head to pull you closer as he deepened the kiss. One of your hands rested on his thigh, and you slightly parted your lips as his tongue swiped on your bottom lip.

Your tongues met in a passionate dance as a breathy sound bubbled in your throat, your other hand getting lost in his hair as you pulled at it. He grunted, and you wondered if he was shaking or if it was you. 

Maybe it was both of you.

And you were shaking… for what exactly? You didn’t even know. All you knew was that you were about to burst right then and there, and your heart couldn’t quite take it.

He whispered your name against your lips, and you kissed him harder. He met your pace, and you were pretty sure he would have pulled you in his lap had someone not cheered.

You pulled away from him, eyes wide, as you realized what you were doing.

His gaze met yours, and there was fear in his eyes. 

“I should go”, you said, and you were up before your sentence had ended.

Hyunjin followed you, slightly stumbling as you stormed towards the door.

“Y/n, wait”, he let out. “What’s wrong?”

Moving out of the dinning room, you walked down the hallway leading to the door.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, turning around to look at him.

You were shaking with your whole body now.

“We… we just kissed, it… Why are you freaking out?” he asked, and you tried to read the emotions on his face.

All you knew was that he too was panicking.

“That was wrong”, you said. “We shouldn’t…”

He chuckled bitterly, taking you by surprise. “It was time we kissed, don’t you think?”

“Just because Seonwha wants us to be together doesn’t mean we should be.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Nuna, I’m not talking about Seonwha. Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same about me.”

“We had this conversation once, Hyunjin-ah, and look where it led us.”

“It led us to tonight, didn’t it?” he pointed out, with an edge to his voice you definitely didn’t like.

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to be with you like that.”

“You kissed me”, he said, venom dripping from his voice. “You want it just as bad as I do.”

“You can’t just come back into my life like that, Hyunjin-ah!” You glanced at the door, though you were slowly starting to see red. It wasn’t anxiety making you shake anymore, but rage. “You came back when it was convenient for you, uh? You waited until I wasn’t with Hangyeol anymore, and then you pull off this shit?”

“You’ve broken up for months, I didn’t come back right away, didn’t I?” He scoffed. “I wouldn’t have come back at all if it hadn’t been for Seonwha.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have.”

The silence that fell around you was heavy, pressing you down as you felt your lungs burning. You just stared at each other. You tried to pretend you couldn’t see the pain on his features, but youncouldn’t ignore it. 

“Leave me alone”, you said, voice small. “I need to think.”

“What is there to think about?” he asked, and his voice broke on the last word.

You motioned between the two of you. “This. Whatever just happened. I… it’s better if we don’t talk for a few days.”

“Please don’t go”, he begged, and you shut your eyes as your heart sank in your chest.

“This is not the end”, you said, hoping he could hear the promise behind those words. “I just need a few days.”

You opened your eyes to see him blinking back tears. 

It came as a surprise that your own gaze was still dry.

“Okay”, he let out. “I’ll give you a few days.”

You nodded, scanning his features one last time before you turned around, aiming for the door. You didn’t hear him move, and neither did you look over your shoulder to see if he had. You weren’t quite sure you would have been able to leave if you had looked at him then.

*****

                You stared at the blank page on your laptop. Lost in the dizzying twirls of your thoughts. 

It happened to you a lot lately, quite honestly.

It had been a little over a week since your fight with Hyunjin. You hadn’t exchanged a single word since then and, frankly, you weren’t quite sure you wanted to ever speak to him again. You were embarrassed, far too embarrassed to acknowledge that you had kissed him. That you had wanted to drown in his sweetness, and in the way his lips had moved against yours.

You tsked, blinking a few times to chase the memory away. To focus on your blank page once again, and on words that had been avoiding you for days now. Since…

You scoffed, closing your laptop before sitting back in your chair, your head resting against it. 

You had been lying to yourself all those days, if you were being honest. Trying to convince yourself that you were angry at him, that you didn’t want him. You had never been a liar before, but it seemed Hwang Hyunjin brought that ugly part of you out. 

A part of you you didn’t think you had, but that had gained control of you when you had realized you were kissing him.

You wanted to hate him. Hate him for coming back like that and expecting them to be together. As if he hadn’t abandoned you for so long. It was unfair, really, that he expected you to be his after he had treated you like he had.

Why did you still want him so bad, then?

Seonwha had been furious, the last time you had spoken to her. Clearly, Hyunjin had told her everything, because she gave you the lecture of the century, calling you stupid and selfish.

You rather thought Hyunjin had been the selfish one. He hadn’t even considered the fact that you might just want to be his friend. He had…

You sighed deeply. You didn’t want to just be his friends. You didn’t think you wanted to be his either. That was why you hadn’t texted him yet.

You hated the effect that it had had on him. Because you had been unable to keep away from the idol part of him, and you had watched their two last shows online. Had seen him mess up a few choreographies. Had been able to see the hurt in his smiles, and in the way they never reached his eyes.

You knew him far too well for your own good.

You tapped your fingers on the back of the laptop, as you once again relived the kiss.

It had been the best goddamn kiss of your entire life, if you were being honest. And you doubted nothing would ever top that.

You had forgotten how to think, how to breathe, how to exist in that moment. All you had known was that there was him, and there was you, and you were two. Two souls, bound to be together. Bound together, lips sealing the deal. 

Maybe you never should have kissed him, because you weren’t quite sure you would ever feel the same again. As if it had made you realize that you were missing half of you, and that the only way to get it back was to be with him. Was to drink in the taste of him until you’d be drunk and old and grey, until eternity would set you apart, in infinite darkness.

You had always been a romantic, had become a writer because of it… but this was a next step. As if you hadn’t known about the love poets spoke about until that moment when your lips had touched. And really, you were aware of that. Were aware that he’d always be the better part of you, the sweet and loveable and kind part of you.

A part you were running away from, content in your own little misery. In that disgusting part of you that wanted him to hurt like he had hurt you. You knew it was wrong, because you knew he had been hurting too. You couldn’t imagine how you would have felt had the roles been reversed. Had he been the one dating someone toxic. Had you had to look at him slowly dwindling away to nothingness.

Though that was the part you couldn’t quite forgive him for. You had been dying, with Hangyeol. Had suffered more than you’d ever admit it to anyone. He had known it, all too well, and had chosen to leave without a single word. 

That silence… it had killed you, relentlessly. You had been forced to rebuild yourself, a little changed, and probably not in the right way. Though it had led to you breaking up with Hangyeol, if you were being honest.

Because, if you had had to choose between Hyunjin and Hangyeol, you would have chosen Hyunjin, no hesitation. 

You hadn’t thought that choice was going to be taken away from you, though. Hadn’t thought Hyunjin would ever walk out of your life… and now he had come back, and you were the one walking away.

You turned your head towards the sliding doors to your right, the city of Seoul coming into view. The sun was getting low in the sky, and you sighed once again. You hadn’t been productive at all today.

You got up from your spot, moving closer to the sliding doors, before stepping outside, the sounds of the city engulfing you. The balcony of your apartment overlooked a small plaza, and you looked down at it, watching people walking around, eating bungeoppang from the street vendor or just rushing to wherever they had to go.

It was strange how life seemed to be moving far too fast around you, when you were still stuck in that dorm kitchen, lips pressed against Hyunjin’s. As if time had stopped for you then, and you’d forever be stuck reliving the moments. Again and again, until you’d go crazy from it.

A breeze caught in your hair, and you shut your eyes, appreciating the warmth of the sun rays on your skin. 

Maybe you were being too harsh on him. Maybe…

Maybe you were meant to be together after all, and he wasn’t wrong. Maybe your timing had just always been off.

Then why did it still feel so wrong?

You stayed there for a while, a lot longer than you had first wanted to. Just letting the sound and smells of the city carry you through your thoughts, because really, there was no escaping.

The worst part was that you missed him, so much. Wanted to share with him every funny pictures that you saw on Instagram, wanted to hear him tell you about his days, wanted to see his smile and listen to his laugh…

Perhaps you had waited long enough. Perhaps you were two puzzle pieces that were meant to be together, and it was time you faced the truth. Running away from it wasn’t going to lead you anywhere good.

As if it finally clicked into place, you knew what you had to do. Though you had probably known it all along, and you had just been waiting for your stubbornness to give in to the feelings in your heart.

You walked inside, hands slightly clammy as you looked for your phone. Ignoring the voice in your head that was telling you not text Hyunjin. That was begging you to not be with him…

As if you were trying to punish yourself. 

Phone in hands, you just stood there for a moment, as realization hit you like a train.

Hyunjin deserved explanations, and some good ones at that.

*****

You sat in the couch, in that same spot you had been for the last hour. Hyunjin had replied to your text saying that he had a performance tonight, but that he could come over after, if you didn’t mind. And frankly, even if you knew you would be tired the next day, you couldn’t wait. Needed to set things straight between you, before he floated too far away for you to be able to reach him again.

Your television was turned on, a K-drama playing with the sound muted. You hadn’t been paying attention to it at all, and had just needed some sort of… company, as you were waiting for him. Because you couldn’t bare the darkness of your apartment.

Your eyes were lost in the void as you nibbled on the dry skin of your bottom lip, unable to focus on anything other than your racing heart. You didn’t even know what time it was, had stopped paying attention to the clock on the wall because time seemed to move so slow.

You couldn’t wait for him to arrive. Couldn’t wait to explain everything to him. Though you were anxious that it would be too little too late.

You startled as your phone started ringing next to you, indicating that someone was at the front door downstairs. Hyunjin.

You buzzed him in, your hands starting to shake as you got up to wait for him at the door. Fingers flickering, as the tick of the clock on the wall echoed every odd beat of your heart.

At this rate, you clearly were going to have a heart attack before Hyunjin was going to reach the door.

There was a slight hesitant knock on the door, and you quickly threw it open, to the sight of a slightly dishevelled and apprehensive Hyunjin. His eyes widened, mouth falling open, as you just looked at him standing there.

It was the five most awkward seconds of your entire life.

“Uh, come in”, you said, blushing as you realized you had been staring.

You moved to the side, blushing even more at the thought of him, in your apartment. The apartment in which you lived alone, with only a few plants to keep you company.

He walked in, staying a good distance away from you, as if he’d get burned if he touched you. He looked stiff, and he didn’t really hold your gaze, instead scanning the living room of your apartment with his gaze.

“Welcome to my… home”, you said, shutting the door behind him. “I… How was the concert?”

His eyes settled on you and you felt like a deer in headlights for a moment. Until he wet his lips and spoke. “You’ve finally decided to talk to me again?”

You gulped. Straight to the point it would be, then.

“Uh”, you let out. “I have an extra pair of slippers, if you want to come in. We can sit in the living room.”

A crease appeared between his brows, but he took off his shoes and put on the slippers, before following you to the couch.

You sat at the two extremities of it, a whole world between you.

“I… have been thinking”, you started, hands shaking. You hid their trembles by sitting on your hands, even if the position was somewhat awkward. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

He remained silent, only looking at you. Well, not quite, as he seemed to be looking at a spot right next to your face. You glanced at it, though there was nothing there.

“I… You mean a lot to me, Jinnie”, you continued. “We’ve been through a lot, and I guess I… was afraid to lose you?”

“Why would us kissing make you think that?” he asked, voice cold.

It took you by surprise, and all your resolve dissolved like some cotton candy in water.

“Because…” you trailed off. “We were best friends for years, and then I lost you. I don’t think I ever really allowed myself to realize just how bad it hurt to lose you.”

He scoffed. “You were the one dating that asshole.”

“You didn’t have to leave”, you said, your tone a little vehement too. “You could have talked to me.”

“I did, nuna. I told you what I thought about him and you still dated him.” He crossed his arms on his chest, slightly shaking his head. “It fucking sucked seeing you with him.”

“And I realize that now!” you quickly said, hoping to diffuse the fight that was starting to build up before it exploded. “I made some mistakes, and I’m sorry I did.”

Only silence met your words. He really wasn’t making that easy, wasn’t he?

“I think I panicked the other day because… you mean so, so much to me and I don’t even want to imagine a world in which I’d lose you again”, you said softly, looking away from him. “But at the same time, I’m pissed at myself for dating Hangyeol after you told me how you felt, and… and I don’t think I deserve you.” You blinked back a few tears. “I don’t deserve you, Hyunjin-ah. I don’t even understand why you still… want me like that after everything that happened. You deserve so much better than how I treated you…” You dried the tear that slipped out of your right eye with the back of your hand. “You deserve someone that’ll love you from the start, and that won’t torture you like I did.” You gulped, swallowing down the lump that had started forming in your throat. “I was selfish, to think that you were the one in the wrong. We both made mistakes, and… I guess I don’t think I deserve your forgiveness. Don’t think I deserve the kiss we...”

“I’ll stop you right there”, Hyunjin interrupted you, voice strained with emotions. “This is not about deserving each other.” You looked at him, heart breaking in your chest at the sight of tears rolling down his cheeks. “You don’t control who you fall in love with. And sometimes, people are meant to be lessons in each other’s life. Fuck’s sake, I thought you were a lesson for a long time. It hasn’t stopped me from feeling what I feel for you though.” He wiped his tears, chuckling, the sound bittersweet. “There wasn’t a day I wasn’t thinking about you, longing for you. But since that day I told you how I felt… it changed me. I couldn’t just be friends with you, and I had to get away.”

You nodded, vision blurred by a new wave of tears. 

“But fuck every day I thought of you. The boys helped me with it, and their friendship really helped through the pain of losing you, but the love remained. And when I saw you at Seonwha’s wedding… It took me back to the day I told you how I felt, and for a moment it was like not a second had passed. And I pictured myself living that moment again, with a happy ending instead.” He looked away, eyes focusing on the silent TV, as the credits of the K-drama rolled on the screen. “I’m rambling, sorry.”

“Don’t”, you quickly said. “Don’t apologize for telling me how you feel. It’s past time we tell each other how we feel.”

He smiled through his tears, wiping them away. 

“I’ve been in love with you all those years, Hyunjin-ah. Ever since that night at Seonwha’s birthday party.” Flashes of that night swirled in your thoughts as you reminisced the moment when you had told Hyunjin you loved him, and he had said he couldn’t be with you. “I’ve loved you every day and I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop”, he said. “I told you it’s not about who deserves who.”

“But it is though”, you insisted. “You… When you told me how you felt, I was scared. So fucking scared when I had been waiting to hear that for months. It pissed me off, though, because I knew it before. We both knew it.”

He nodded, meeting your gaze. 

“It’s always been you, Jinnie. Every moment of every day it’s been you. Even when I was with Hangyeol. Even more then. That night at the wedding… I saw a future with you. It scared me, and I panicked when we kissed last week but it was… the best kiss I’ve ever had. You are… so much. I can’t even say so much what… you are just so much… you.”

He chuckled, as he blinked back a few more tears.

“You’re everything that I want, that I’ve wanted, and I don’t deserve it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because… I don’t know”, you said, shrugging as you too chuckled. “Because I’m young and dumb and afraid of commitment and afraid of getting hurt. And you’re… you’re an idol, you live in a complete different universe than I do.”

“I’m still the same.”

“You are. And that’s why I still feel like that about you.”

“Like what?” he asked, a teasing smile moving on his lips.

The sight of it made you feel like a rainbow had appeared in the storm of your life.

“Don’t make me repeat it”, you said, laughing lightly. “It’s… fuck why didn’t I tell you before?”

His face fell serious as he carefully watched you. “I didn’t think the timing was ever going to be right with you”, he admitted after a time. “Always thought that I would be forced to live my life knowing I’d let the one slip through my fingers.”

“I’m right here”, you said, voice filled with emotion. “I was really fucking dumb but I’m right here and I never want to leave again.”

“I won’t let you”, he teased you, as he reached out to grab your hand. And than seemed to be considering it for a time, before pulling you closer. Pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss was the confirmation you needed. That he indeed was the one. That he was the love poets write poems about, and singers sing songs about. That he was the oxygen to your lungs, and the light in your darkest nights. 

It felt like coming home after a long journey. Head full of memories, heart full of feelings, but finally ready to settle down. To relax for a while, and to just enjoy being alive. Being there, in the moment. Not caring about the world. 

Just him and you. You and him. Intertwined on your couch in a dance of passion, lips against skin, skin against skin, breaths heavy with release and love and everything in between.

You felt free, like a bird soaring high in the sky, after years of being grounded. Like a kite in a summer wind, or a wave hitting the shore. 

It was an abundance of feelings you didn’t even know existed, yet felt just right.

He was just right. For you, that is. And you for him. Two souls, connected on a deeper level than you had ever thought possible, as if you finally knew the secrets to the universe. And maybe you did. Maybe he was the secret to your universe, and you to his. Maybe he was the rules of physics to which you responded, and you were the mathematics of his dreams.

When you were laying in your bed, somewhere between the hours of midnight and dawn, you took the time to look at him. Truly look at the boy you had always known – man now. And you knew. Knew that everything that had happened to you in life had happened for a reason. To lead you there, with him, to the place you were destined to find. Because the feelings in your heart… it was faith. You knew it. And instead of being afraid of it, as you had been at first, you welcomed it in with open arms.

Embraced it, really, because what else was there to do, when the love of your life was right next to you?

“What are you thinking about?” Hyunjin murmured, voice groggy with sleep.

Though you hadn’t really slept at all.

“You”, you whispered, nuzzling your face in his neck. The smell of him was almost enough to make you go crazy. “Us.”

“Look at you all cheesy”, he said, chuckling. The deep sound reverberated in his chest, and you smiled against his skin.

“I’m a hopeless romantic, what were you expecting?”

“Nothing less”, he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I wouldn’t want nothing less than that from you.”

You felt your cheeks burning, and you hid it by cuddling further into him.

“You know what?” Hyunjin said.

“Mmh?” you let out.

“I think I fell in love with you first.”

You chuckled. “Bullshit.”

“No, I’m serious”, he insisted. “The day we met. You were wearing the school uniform, and you had your hair tied back in a ponytail. You looked so cute and I couldn’t stop staring at you. That’s why I walked straight into you. I knew then that you were the one.”

“Why did you tell me you just wanted to be friends, then?” you asked, hand moving up so you could gently put behind his ear the strand of blond hair that was falling in his eyes.

“Because we were young”, he said, as if it explained anything. “I knew you were the kind of love I wouldn’t ever be able to walk away from. But I had this dream of being an idol… and I guess at the end of the day I was selfish, and took you for granted.”

“We both were selfish”, you whispered. “But we’re here now, and it’s all that matters.”

He smiled softly. “It is. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You blushed, giggling. “Who’s being cheesy now?”

He laughed, pulling you into his chest, hugging you tight against him. You put your head on his chest, right above his heart, and you listened to his heartbeat for a time, your own heart meeting the pace of his, as if they too had been in synch from the start.

“I love you”, Hyunjin said after a few more moments of silence. “Always have and always will.”

Warmth moved throughout your whole body, and you wondered if it was possible to be happier than you were then. You highly doubted so.

“I love you too.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

I hope you enjoyed!! I feel all fluffy rereading it, this couple was really fun to write. The way they are both hopeless for the other like🥺🥺

Let me know what you thought of the fic! Feedback is always appreciated

Love you all✌🏼

[melon-kiss]

I know some of you don't speak Polish and we can't afford to translate 40-min-long chaotic interviews for you and I'm a bit bored (meaning: my brain wants a break from writing but I'm stubborn and I want to finish it TODAY), so I thought I'd give you a bit of a trivia based on interviews with the actors and the crew of 1670:

throughout all the interviews, no one really asked if we're getting season 2. I mean, someone did and the response was: "Well, we know nothing" but nobody really asked if they had any IDEA about what would happen in the next season

I'm not sure about the actors but the creative and directive levels went to a series of lectures on how people lived in Poland in the XVII century

they received a substantial funding, especially considering the directors were complete "no-names"

filming took 3 months, December through February 2022 if I recall

they all lived in an open-air museum in Kolbuszowa; in fact, almost all of the building were already there, they only had to build the house, the barn and the forge

there was no delay in filming, which is apparently rare in the industry but that was because they had a very tight schedule and couldn't afford staying longer in the museum

the last episode was filmed on one day and that was the last day of filming and because of technical issues with cameras working in the inn (the short shot of Maciej serving the pig to the Adamczewskis' table had to be re-done 20 times!), they had to completely rearrange the wedding party scenes, turning them into long shots; the entire labor/dancing scenes were supposed to be shot from 13 (!) different perspectives and be arranged in a "music video fashion"

one of the first episodes (if not THE first episode) to be filmed was episode 7

the script was written with Bartłomiej Topa (Jan Paweł) in mind, however, the actor wasn't really convinced about participating in this project and took his sweet, sweet time to decide on it; same goes to Dobromir Dymecki (Bogdan). Topa says it wasn't because he didn't find it good - it was because he was afraid that the project would be underfunded and therefore fail as projects like that usually don't get the attention they need in Poland

Bartłomiej Topa said he portrayed Jan Paweł as evil and conniving for the first two weeks of being on the set and the first scene they recorded was the one with the "Adamczycha" sign falling down; only after that time, after one scene in particular (don't remember which one, sorry), he finally saw the true nature of his character and changed his approach to the portrayal

surprisingly, Michał Sikorski (father Jakub), unlike Topa, thought of his character as a silly, innocent man and he changed his mind only after seeing the Aniela-Maciej dance scene where he says Love is peaceful, love is kind, love is... unacceptable - he understood he got to play a villain

the actors were FORBIDDEN to improvise; their lines had to be memorised prior to filming

they shot the barrel-cleaning scene (the thing they do before blowing the magnate's son's head up) for 2h because Bartłomiej Topa and Andrzej Kłak (well, he plays Andrzej) couldn't stop laughing; Topa mentions he doesn't even remember how they managed to get it done

all the mud was brought there ON PURPOSE

Kirył Pietruczuk (Maciej) is a debutante when it comes to film, however, he is the only actor in the crew with an acting degree; not only that - he graduated with honors

when asked about this, Michał Sikorski said: "Well, but it doesn't matter, does it? Because, even thought I haven't graduated, I got to play a nobleman and he... well..." (obv that was A JOKE; he is like the sweetest person ever!)

he also said he wrote a "Maciej's journal" during filming and spent a lot of time creating a backstory for his character; he said it was helping with the a-chronical shooting; he read one of the entries out loud in his interview

he jokingly said his favourite episode is the last one because he got to kiss Martyna (Aniela) there

as mentioned before, casting Maciej's role took the longest. They interviewed about 300 candidates and none of them fit. Kirył recalls it was right after he signed a deal with an agency for the first time in his life and he immediately received a call after his first cinema audition and it was 1670, of course! However, he reports that the process was extremely long - he had to go through several stages, each one of them revealing more and more of the script and he wasn't informed it would take that long

The creators said they looked for someone who'd understand the character and his role in the film - as he is the eyes and ears for us, people from XXI century. "He's basically like a viewer of the events, one of us", Kordian Kądziela (director, episodes 5-8) says. It was important he had a good chemistry with Martyna (she was the first and only "Aniela" he had to do short scenes with and the chemistry was immediate) and was able to break the fourth wall properly - he had to have the talent to comment current events with just one look and I personally think he does it perfectly. The actor was also supposed to be "easily likeable by girls"

The first scene they shot together - meaning as Aniela and Maciej - was the dance scene and Kirył says it's his favourite scene in the entire show

Kirył said the scene with the magnate's son was initially very aggressive on his part, however, after speaking to the directors, he decided to tone it down as it was, indeed, not fit for the character to be this angry

they all said, once they got down to it, they had a feeling they were a part of something special

Feel free to add your trivia or correct me if I'm wrong.

[2996-sana]

lost in japan

loosely based on lost in japan by shawn mendes :D

being a soloist in the industry is a bit like riding a rollercoaster of emotions. while it brings creative freedom and a chance to shape your own journey, it comes with its share of loneliness. unlike being in a group, where you share every step of the journey, as a soloist, you navigate the entire process – from making albums, promotions, gigs, to tours and interviews – all by yourself. sure, you have your crew and team, your chosen family, but seeing groups together makes you a bit envious. they get to share the highs and lows, the crazy moments, and the struggles. it's a camaraderie you sometimes wanted.

but being a soloist has its perks. you get to pour your soul into your music, writing and producing most of your songs. music isn't just a job; it's a deeply personal expression. every note and lyric carries a piece of your story, every emotion, and experience that left a mark on your heart.

and then there's the subject of love.

in the vast expanse of the industry, finding love can be a challenge. all eyes are on you, not just in korea but globally, and being an idol only adds to the scrutiny. but that hasn't stopped idols from dating, and who can blame them? when love comes knocking, it's hard to resist.

for you, love arrived unexpectedly in the form of a blind date, set up by mutual connections. specifically, yeri from red velvet, who passed down the idea to nayeon from twice. and believe it or not, love turned out to be a member of the renowned girl group twice.

love felt like magic, and at this moment, love happened to be right beside you on the couch in the recording studio.

"baby, i'm gonna miss you like crazy," sana pouted.

"i know, baby, but it's only gonna be a few weeks, right?" you ask, trying to offer comfort.

"three weeks, yeah, but i hate being away from you," she replies, eyes still a bit teary.

turning to your girlfriend, you put down your guitar and scoot closer to sana. "i understand, baby. if i didn't have schedules lined up for the next few weeks, i'd come with you guys," you say, your voice carrying a tinge of sadness.

sana sighed in defeat and planted a playful kiss on your cheek. "you should write a song about me while i'm away," she teased.

you rolled your eyes. "they're all about you, i don't know what you're on about."

sana giggled, fully aware that it was true. despite this knowledge, hearing every new song you wrote about her never got old and it never failed to make her swoon. your love story held a special place in both your hearts, and having it immortalized in your music felt special. especially since the general public remained oblivious to the fact that the songs were about her or your relationship. it was like a secret world that only the two of you shared, untouched, and safe from the prying eyes of the public.

as much as sana wanted to shout about your love from the rooftops, she found solace in the fact that you both hadn't given anybody the power to take what you had away. having your close circle and family know felt like enough for now.

"i adore you so much, baby. i feel incredibly lucky," sana confessed, locking eyes with you.

"i love you, baby. we're both really lucky," you replied. "are you excited to be home and visit family?"

sana's eyes lit up. "yes! mom and dad wanted to see you, though. but yeah, it's been a while, so i'm excited."

the joy on her face brought warmth to your heart. "i'm excited for you, baby. send me lots of pictures, okay? and don't worry, i'll give you a call when you're together with your parents."

that night, you had to take sana and the rest of twice to the airport. well, technically, you were in the same car they were dropped off in, but you couldn't get off due to the swarm of reporters and fansites. now, that would be a headline.

you gave sana one last kiss and waved goodbye to tzuyu, dahyun, mina, and jihyo, who were sharing the same car.

"be safe, you guys," you said.

"we'll miss you, unnie!" tzuyu exclaimed, and the rest of the girls echoed her sentiment.

"i'll miss you the most, though," sana said sadly.

you reached for her hand and gave it a soft kiss. "i'll see you real soon, baby."

"y/n, you better pay me extra to keep sana from talking everyone's ears off about missing you this whole trip," jihyo joked, earning laughs from the group.

"bank transfer?" you suggested playfully.

"yah!" sana feigned annoyance.

"alright, alright, you guys go. the rest of the girls are already outside."

as the car door closed, you sighed. a busy week awaited you with recording sessions, and on top of that, you didn't have a girlfriend to come home to for the next few weeks. *+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

a week drifted by, and there you were, sprawled out on the cushy couch in a hotel in taiwan, peering through the grand glass windows that framed the city's glowing lights. the sun descended gracefully, painting the sky with warm hues. you wished sana was there with you. memories flooded in — of quiet evenings cocooned on the couch, watching anime after demanding days, and lively moments in the kitchen, dancing and singing together.

"it's cool. just two more weeks," you mumbled.

suddenly, a soft buzz broke the silence.

m.by__sana tagged you in a post

you tapped the notification, revealing snapshots from a dinner a week past, capturing the comically overcooked steak you had made.

당신은 여전히 최고입니다, 셰프님! ♡´ (you're still the best, chef! ♡´)

a gentle chuckle escaped you.

당신은 미친 듯이 나를 그리워하고 있을 것입니다, you playfully commented. (you must be missing me like crazy)

almost instantly, you got a reply.

당신은 모르고 있어요 (you have no idea)

you released a resigned sigh, well-acquainted with the sacrifices that came with being idols. both of you knew the drill — the inevitable stretches of separation that, despite understanding, never got easier.

you knew sana was currently holed up in her hotel with the other girls, having just gotten off a facetime call with her. it didn't make the distance any more bearable, and resisting the urge to fly over and be with her required more self-control than you cared to admit.

wait…

with a swift move, you grabbed your phone and opened up the voice memo app. "na na na na, do you got plans tonight, baby? something something, lost in your paradise. the only thing i’m thinking ‘bout is you and i, i can’t get you off my mind," you sang, a mix of determination and confusion in your voice as you attempted to untangle the tune in your head. recording the snippets, you couldn't help but hope that this spontaneous burst could turn into something.

as a musician and songwriter, you know that when inspiration hits - seize it and craft it into art. luckily for you, sana was the kind of girl who could fuel a billion songs, and the thought of writing about her never got old.

fueled by the sudden inspiration, you reached for your guitar.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

"sana, you okay?" mina inquired, concern etching her features as she observed sana lost in thought, brows furrowed.

"she's fine. just being dramatic because y/n hasn't replied," nayeon chuckled, finding the situation amusing.

"you don't get it; she never takes this long to reply, even when we're both busy," sana whined, her frustration evident.

"unnie, isn't she in the middle of preparing for a comeback?" chaeyoung suggested. "maybe she's stuck in a meeting or recording something."

despite chaeyoung's rationality, sana's irritation persisted. she wasn't worried; she was just plain mad that you weren't responding.

the day dragged on with your replies limited to one-word responses, fueling sana's growing annoyance.

"who does she think she is?" sana slammed the door of her and momo's hotel room. "she didn't even pick up when i called her at my parents' house, and she specifically told me to!"

momo racked her brain, knowing sana's penchant for needing attention. she silently cursed you for leaving her with a moody sana.

"sana, it's okay. she'll eventually reply. i'm sure she has her reasons," momo sighed, offering a reassuring smile.

sana, across the room, sprinted to momo, shoving her phone in her friend's face. "what is this, then?"

momo squinted at your instagram story, revealing a tiktok of you and jennie doing a dance. momo silently cursed you again.

"uhh, scheduled post? maybe it's a new challenge," momo suggested, attempting to ease the tension.

sana rolled her eyes and threw her phone on the bed. "i don't care anymore."

"we can go out tonight, satang!" momo encouraged. "you'll get your mind off y/n."

sana shook her head defiantly. "i'm not going out! i'm staying in."

"nope, you can't," momo declared, standing up and joining sana. "you promised, remember?"

sana groaned. "fine, whatever, but i won't like it." *+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

sana and the group entered mina's cousin's newly opened restaurant, exclusively reserved for the night. despite the collective effort to lighten sana's mood, she remained unusually gloomy, a stark contrast to her typically bubbly self.

"sana, you look ugly when you’re frowning," jeongyeon teased, eliciting laughter from the group. sana responded by sticking her tongue out playfully. just as sana was about to retaliate, their food arrived, and the delightful aroma of the ramen momentarily diverted her attention. she was clearly hungry.

the dinner unfolded with vibrant conversations about their promotions, and even sana couldn't resist breaking into a smile and sharing a few laughs. after finishing her ramen, sana reached for a napkin on the table and discovered something tucked underneath — a small note?

do you have plans tonight?

suddenly, the lights dimmed, causing gasps from everyone. a soft strumming of a guitar filled the air.

"all it'd take is one flight,

we'd be in the same time zone."

sana could recognize that voice anywhere. her eyes shifted across the room, finding her girlfriend perched on a high stool with a guitar, singing just for her. sana could barely wrap her head around what was happening. she glanced at the girls, who were all smiling with their phones up.

as you sang, it dawned on sana what the song meant. her eyes widened as she listened.

“do you got plans tonight?

i'm a couple hundred miles from japan, and i

i was thinkin' i could fly to your hotel tonight

'cause i can't get you off my mind.”

you smiled and threw her a wink. sana couldn't help but cover her blushing face with her hands.

“do you got plans tonight, baby?

i was hopin' i could get lost in your paradise (paradise)

the only thing i'm thinkin' 'bout is you and i,

and i can't get you off my mind.”

sana should've probably known you were up to something. you wouldn't have left her hanging like that. but who would've thought you were crazy enough to leave in the middle of your schedules and fly to japan for her?

“let's get lost tonight,

let's get lost tonight,

baby, you and,

i can't seem to get you off my mind.”

the guitar strumming gradually faded, and the girls were howling and clapping. you walked toward sana with a single flower in your hand, wearing a big grin.

"hi," you said, still grinning.

sana got up, playfully shoving you before throwing her arms around you. "you are crazy!"

"crazy in love, apparently," dahyun giggled.

"are you complaining, though?" you laughed, ruffling her hair. then, you whispered in her ear, "if love doesn't make you do crazy things, then are you really doing it right?" *+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

"lost in japan is trending," sana giggled from the couch.

you joined her, tossing a blanket over both of you. "you think they're putting two and two together?" you laughed.

sana laughed, sharing a message from a fan on the bubble app.

"that new song from y/n is definitely about you and i'm taking no arguments."

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

a run down would be appreciated😭😭 and i sure hope coffee at midnight is a happy fic bc that one i did start reading and its my current obsession, i wont be able to take it if something bad happens to my babies

I won't spoil Coffee at Midnight, but I'm glad you're loving it!!

My other fics, though, I'm going to try and put into categories.

The Multichaps

A Fine Line will take you through every emotion. It's smutty and angsty and stressful but it has a happy ending!

illicit affairs is an ongoing multi-chap that's nowhere near finished. emily and aaron sleep together before her first day on the job, when neither knows who the other is. the affair they begin has consequences for years to come.

touchy subject is complete and is an emotional journey. a teenage emily aborted aaron's baby without telling him, and deals with the consequences of that decision in the decades that come after.

impact married Hotchniss are in a car accident that leaves emily in a coma.

the price we pay. I'll start by telling you that Emily's dead. that's not a spoiler, i literally tell you in the comments. this fic sees JJ try to come to terms with her death and her unresolved feelings for Emily at the same time.

Nodus Tollens is annoyingly incomplete. A complicated fic based on the Arizona-Callie-Mark triangle n Greys.

The One-Shots

The Five Stages of Grief are a Myth is a journey, but it does have a happy ending!

phantasmogoria - emily struggles with the trauma of having spent seven months in isolation, with only her own mind for company. hotch is her lifeline.

found family is a cute little fic i wrote for the 'accidental baby acquisition' tag for criminal minds week 2023. the team find a baby.

built a home and watched it burn may or may not stay an angsty one-shot. it's the first chapter of an unfinished fic i took down a while ago, in which emily and aaron are getting divorced.

Eulogy is an angsty af one-shot of JJ and Hotch telling Emily about the Paris plan.

You'll Always Be My Person is angsty Jemily fluff that I woudn't say has a happy ending, but it's sweet and short.

Habits is a cute little Jemily drabble.

in love with you is Emily POV Jemily angst.

twelve things that didn't break aaron hotchner and the one that almost did is Hotch angst with a happy Hotchniss ending.

The States Game is a cutie team fic based on That Friends Episode.

The Smutty One-Shots

Heat is the only 'only one bed' fic i've ever written. it's just pure, unadulterated, shameless, steamy Hotchniss smut.

every lover's game is what happens after you send the girl you fancy in to flirt with a creepy guy called Viper. it's pure filth. it's great. probably my favourite filth i've written. you're welcome.

trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat is angsty Hotchniss smut. like I earned the angsty smut tag on this one.

when it rains, it pours - more angsty Hotchniss smut. back from Paris, emily is struggling. then comes a storm.

Coming Home is wholesome Jemily smut.

Stress Relief and Debriefing are just pure Emily/Luke smut.

Hotchner's Future Au (in chronological order)

technically these all have a happy ending because emily and hotch are married and trying to cope with parenting x

nature vs nurture after having her first child, emily struggles with her mother's first visit and her criticisms.

a good cat never goes far - proceed with caution if you love Sergio. that's all i'll say. but also read it because i'm proud of it <3

the last first day - emily struggles with her last baby starting school

good intentions, bad excecution - livvy hotchner is a menace, but she's also a great big sister.

red-handed the kids catch emily and aaron in a...compromising position. based on a request to write a hotchners future au fic inspired by the modern family episode 'caught in the act'

my mama's in the kitchen worrying about me - emily struggles with having a teenage daughter who's exactly like her.

Good Crazy - jack announces that he and his girlfriend are expecting. emily and aaron temporarily lose their minds, but what's new?

[sweetbottletops]

"Alone? Will you be okay?" Koga is a delicate soft marshmallow on the best of days and Aya knows it.

What could go wrong?

Ch. 93

When you're not used to being part of the main plot lines in school it can be easy to just not concern yourself with them at all. You get a non-combatant label and can slip in and out without too much worry.

"Yahaha" "Stop that!" Perhaps not everyone in the room agrees with what is going on? Tabling that until later.

Accidental MC arrives at the scene of the crime.

Of course it was the Maths book. The most untrustworthy of subjects.

"You must be pretty smart writing a whole song in English."

"I bet she used machine translation though. Just look!"

Scanlator later changed that to: "I ran it through a translator. Just look!"

I've seen some people speculate Koga isn't the most reliable with her reactions. So I attempted to look at these lines from at least a more neutral toned angle.

At the most generous that first comment might be neutral in tone (setting aside the whole violation of privacy part...the guy is literally waving her property around) but the MTL line is meant to put her down.

I'm going with negative for both regardless of Koga being potentially unreliable in some of her reactions. And tbh once you've been violated like this any reaction outweighs intent to me. And the intent is sus.

"Hey, is this a love song!?" (They have rewritten the lyrics out in Japanese on the blackboard... not sure why it wasn't translated by the scanlator because Japanese readers were meat to get hints from it, but there are legible phrases there if you use google translate...keeping in mind the kids might have done a bad translation from English to Japanese themselves....)

"You should just give it up." (Was that towards Koga's music or a third party towards the guy waving her stuff around? Unclear.) Scanlator changed it to "Hey man, stop it!" which made it clearer they were talking about the instigator.

"You mean the one in that video was really Koga-san?"

"She gives off a totally different vibe though."

When someone (strangers even) question your abilities, appearance, personality, and motivations like that it can only be negative. And putting it up on the chalkboard and waving it in her face makes it a whole classroom problem.

I'm not convinced there are 100% shitheads in the room, but unless someone steps up next chapter then you all get to be in the shithead bin as well. That's how it works. The Gyaru + Pretty Boy alliance wouldn't be silent for this so let's see if anyone else separates themselves from the mob.

Last week I had been thinking the worst that would come from this was maybe her being volunteered for some school event against her will or having someone find out about her muse since it was likely a love song, but this is exponentially worse.

And I'm not sure I like her side of the relationship getting exposed via poorly translated lyrics on the blackboard. Sure, it's going to advance things quicker, but at what cost?

Kind, green Aya-eyes cutting through all of the black ink that took over the last three pages.

I'm not sure if someone already in the room will come to their senses and put a stop to things, if Koga will finally have her say to those mean faces that's been lurking through her entire school career, if Aya will come back in time to show the extent of her own gap, or if Aya will come back and Koga will just be missing... and force her to realize some things from the evidence left behind.

We know that Aya didn't understand the English lyrics to the song Koga wrote and sang for her earlier. It's been a comment from her lurking in the background the whole time.

Koga might have technically already confessed then. If this is the same song and it's a love song then the translation on the blackboard should be enough to clue Aya in.

As an aside... Are we in the final stretch? I feel like volume 3 should end around chapter 110-ish right? If that's the case and it's the end (no inside info here, just speculation) there isn't a ton of time for relationship and wrapping up the Joe/Kanna/America/Family mystery. But it's also a little hard for me to anticipate a volume 4 since they are almost finished with their final year in school which should be a natural resolution point for most of the drama.

We will see how it is paced next week I guess.

[dayseternal-blog]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Bunny-senpai!!! 💕

I answered an ask similar to this one last year in March and I don't think my answers have changed...

I rewrote each blurb haha, so it's not an exact copy-paste from before.

1 “It’s No Secret” - Rated M, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Hinata returns to Konoha after 5 years studying abroad in the Moon Kingdom. She just wants to enjoy her last year of high school as a normal girl, but blossoming love forces her to confront her future. - My top fave. Back then, I wrote this like I was possessed. This story consumed my mind, and I was posting chapters every 1 or 2 weeks. I'm amazed at myself from back then. No, it's not my technically best writing, but I was having so much fun thinking up all kinds of scenes!!! Oh, to be a fanfic writing newbie all over again. Major love to everyone who's read this flirty teenage shenanigans mess and enjoyed it!!! One day I will write part two 🥺

2 “Nightdreams” - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto and Hinata find comfort in each other after the war. - This fic idea came to me sometime after I read agitosgirl's "A Special Friend," and I wanted Moooooore!!! I wanted more of this hurt/comfort dynamic between NaruHina!!!! So bam, the fic almost wrote itself, it flowed so easily (except for when it didn't). I'm so happy that people reread this fic, and then tell me that they're rereading it :D. Once in awhile I reread it, too, and think, oh, I should fix that sentence, or whatever loll, but I don't. I kind of think it's nice to leave it as it is, imperfect in little ways to bother me. Please read this fic and recognize that I was copying Katarinahime's writing techniques throughout.

3 “Awkward Jocks” - Rated G, 1990s High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. She knows that if he were to ever ask her out, she would accept in a heartbeat. After all, he’s the star quarterback and basketball player. Plus, she’s liked him since…forever. But when her home phone rings, and he’s on the other line, she hangs up. - It's interesting to me that even after all the fics I've written over the years, it's a few of my oldest fics that take the top 3. I guess I really have been trying to write for myself since the start. This one is based off of my ex-coworker's love story. Even though I don't work with her anymore, I still think of her as my role model for good leadership. When you read this, I hope you can feel how much I love her!

4 “About You” - Rated G, 1970s High School AU, One-shot. A summer job at the Dole pineapple cannery, graveyard shift 10 PM to 6 AM. A long bus ride into and out of town. Two teens, shy beside each other. - This is my most personal fanfic. Based on stories my parents told me and stories I found online from people of their generation, I tried to dive into their time using NaruHina. Ever since I was inspired to write after reading emmykay's "Torch Song," I had wanted to write a fic with Japanese-Hawaiian pidgin dialogue. This fic is close to my heart, but it's not higher on the list because there are inaccurate details that bother me 😅. I'm thinking of writing a fic about my great grandparents' generation one day, I've done a ton of research for it! Anyway, I'm so happy that others love this fanfic, too.

5 “Matcha” from “Shared Vows” - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto calls Hiashi “father” for the first time. - According to my previous blurb, I picked this one because I loved how I structured it, I thought I wrote it really well. I also loved the notion of Naruto finding his own family. On deeper reflection, I think I also picked this one over "Finally Home" because I have a not-so-secret agenda for reconciliation between Hinata and Hiashi, fed by my own family's dynamic with my dad.

If I were to recommend any one of these for someone to read, I'd say they should start with Nightdreams or Matcha as an intro to some of my work since canon universe fanfic is always easier to digest.

[360iris]

Me & U, Isn’t | dad’s best friend!santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader

2.5k word count. Content warning— this is not a good time read! Relationship angst, m/c is intended to be over 21 years of age, Santi isn’t a bad guy, but he isn’t the best either. M/c is kind of self deprecating tbh, message for the girlies: Always speak your mind, and let your feelings be known if you are in a safe place to do so! Fuck “keeping the peace.” Don’t be like this m/c! She is stubborn! Anyway, I wrote this almost two months ago. It was fun stressing my friends out talking about it. Now the world can read it and stress too ig lol

Please do not read if you are not in the right headspace for more serious relationship topics and themes, thanks!

The last thing you’d expected to see this afternoon was Santiago leaning against his truck, arms folded as he watched you pull into your reserved parking spot at your apartment complex. A fond smirk lining his lips.

You take your time gathering your things, face waxing unimpressed as you exited the vehicle. “How long have you been out here?” You ask with brows knitted as he pushes himself up.

“About... ten minutes?” He takes a moment to think it over. “Saw your phone location and noticed you were headed back this way. Figured I’d be able to catch you before you headed back out.”

“What the fuck?” You remark surprisingly, looking at him like he’d grown a third arm. “Since when have you been doing that?”

“You let me, remember? That one night you were all cock drunk, I asked you and you let me enable it.” He says nonchalantly and you stare at him fixedly for a moment before promptly turning to start walking to your door.

Santiago simply follows suit, his pace lax as he trails behind you, waiting patiently as you open the door, step inside and gesture for him to enter.

“What do you want, Santiago?” You ask, shutting the door. Technically your tone was mellow, but there was something about the sentence itself that made his smug expression fall.

“What are you doing that for?” He asks.

“Doing what?” You ask, eying him weirdly as you set down your keys and take off your jacket.

“You know what. What are you upset about?” He pries.

You straighten up, tipping your head back to look at him straight on.

The elephant in the room was right there, and yet here he was asking you, what you had to be upset about like he himself hadn’t chosen to go dark for an entire week and three and half days— not that you were counting.

Although you were.

Going about your days like the family and friends trip to Miami didn’t happen last May.

Like all the glances and tension that was brewing between you and Santiago that entire year didn’t lead up to him fucking you in a beach shower at 5pm, on a Tuesday, didn’t lead to you having to keep the biggest secret you’d ever endeavored to take on.

No one could know, he’d told you.

And you weren’t fucking stupid, of course they couldn’t.

But no one didn’t just mean your mom or dad, who’d lose their minds, and more than likely relieve Santiago of his if they found out how long you’d been “seeing” one another.

No one also pertained to your childhood, college and online friends. It entailed your lab partners in Advanced Inorganic Chemistry, the girl who always gave you extra whipped cream and caramel at the campus Starbucks since you were a sophomore— and even the family cat, Feek.

When you got into this, whatever this was, you’d thought you were gaining something.

Something fun and exciting, something that kept you up at night from how giddy you were. And if you were being honest, for a little while, you’d thought you were gaining him. Even if you knew you couldn’t really be together, you’d thought— well, you don’t even know anymore.

You’d just hoped he’d at least show up for you more. And instead, he pulled away.

Santiago put more time into Kim, the woman he’d been seeing on and off since you were ten. The one he took on showy trips to the Bahamas and brought to all the special occasions as his plus one when it’d be too weird to attend alone.

‘Just for the photos.’ he’d said. ‘If people see me with her, then they wouldn’t think even in their wildest dreams that I was with you.’ He’d continued.

Eventually you stopped bringing it up. That’s how a lot of things went with him it seemed. He’d settle on one answer and that’s what he’d stick to. Not once would he divert or slip up— things just were, no matter how unsatisfied you were with his replies.

Though, you weren’t granted that same privilege it seemed.

“Mi amor,” He says walking closer to where you stood by the breakfast bar. Amor. Love— Santiago never could say it in English. And it always felt like he’d made a point of it not to. “What are you upset about?”

You scoff, effectively rolling your eyes and slipping past him to walk down the hall to your room. “Oh, there’s a list of things. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to get to them all, even if I tried to, Santiago.” Your voice echoes in the barrer space, he follows.

And just as you reach to open the door handle, his hand rests on top of your own— keeping you locked there in the darkened space, his chest to your back. His chin ghosting over your left shoulder.

You try to even your breathing as he makes you soak in the silence before breaking it, “I know you.” He says evenly, out of all the things he could say. And his right hand that rests against your hip begins picking at the hem of your burgundy knit long sleeve.

“I know you keep a lot of this hidden. A lot of things go unsaid between us, and I thought we were both okay, with that. But if you’re not, how can I know if you don’t let me in on what it is you’re letting stew in that little head of yours.”

Your hand grasping the doorknob tightens against the metal as he speaks, your fingers beginning to shake under his.

You rest your forehead against the painted white wood, exhaling heavily through your nose as he keeps you pressed to him. And vaguely you acknowledge how ironic this moment in time is—

You, reaching the door of something, maybe it was the future. One without him and all his empty promises. One where you were free to see whoever and share them with whomever you pleased.

And him, stopping you. Holding on to you and this shitty situation like it isn’t absolute madness.

Didn’t he go day by day antagonizing over this too? Didn’t he share in the thought that this was pure torture?

‘Don’t you see what you’ve done to me?’ You think. ‘You’ve made me feel like everyone I could trust was an inside spy, waiting for one damn slip up to crucify me for.’

‘I’m protecting you, and I’m lonelier than ever.’

‘You’re holding me and I hate how you’re all I’ve got left that feels like home.’

You couldn’t say those things. And he didn’t want to know them, not really.

“Why won’t you let me go?” You ask, taking a shaky inhale.

Santiago doesn’t answer right away, undoubtedly getting your true meaning.

“Do you want me to?” He asks finally, quiet. Waiting.

“I,” Your voice cracks before everything becomes too much and you’re turning in his grasp to look at him.

Could the truth fix everything in this instance?

If you told him, ‘It’s about you not being honest? It’s about you sleeping with whoever you want but acting like a scorned child when I do the same? Ignoring my texts for weeks at a time, and showing up at my apartment at odd hours of the night whenever it suits you?’

But what was the point of wasting your breath when you knew it’d turn into a futile argument that changed nothing.

It’d end the same way regardless, with him dismantling all your lines of defense with a look, with a touch, and a kiss.

With him fucking you into your sheets with your nails clawing into his back, until your throat is hoarse and your vision is skewed with tears. That’s how he seemed to like you best anyway— responsive to his smallest whim and wholly compliant.

So as always, you don’t speak, you don’t push the limits. And he rewards you for it, whether or not he knows it. By bringing you into his arms, holding you close and skipping the fight altogether.

“My pretty girl. Smart girl.” He says running his fingers along your face now, looking into your eyes, and you take the opportunity to search his. If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, what would you find if you looked into his?

Right now. If you were being honest. You saw nothing. But did that say more about you, or him?

Maybe you lacked whatever it took to catch a glimpse of whatever a person’s true nature was but as he cups your face with one hand, you abandon the thought. It was better not to think.

“I’m here now, so just… be with me.” He says it so softly he’s almost whispering. Leaning in til your noses touch.

“Santiago.” Comes out raspy, your voice strained by nerves and excess emotion.

“Nuh-uh.” He interjects, softly tilting your head back til it makes contact with the closed door behind you. Nosing at the slope of your neck, he keeps his eyes on your face as he rubs his lips along your cold skin. “None of that. Say it properly.”

“I don’t know what you’re—“ And you’re interrupted by the way he pinches at your clit through the fabric of your jeans, quick to cradle the back of your head to prevent you from hurting yourself when you throw it back.

“Still don’t know, do you?” He asks eyeing you with a glint forming in his eye as you shook your head. “No?”

He begins undoing your pants with one hand, pulling your underwear and bottoms down just enough so that they sit just above your thighs, before placing your cunt on full display for him. “What’s it going to take to get that little attitude of yours in check? Hm?”

His thumb rubs over your clit once, slow and purposeful as you keen in his grasp. “What am I going to have to do? Fuck it out of you?”

At those words, he begins rubbing the pad of his middle finger in your arousal. Pressing slowly into you fully before pulling back and when he pushes forward again, this time it’s with two fingers that have you quietly gasping at the intrusion.

Your cunt wets his fingers all to quickly, you’re leaning into his touch as he fucks you open, one overwhelmingly patient pump at a time.

With a beckoning motion, he massages your spongy walls until he locates the spot that causes you to buck into his hand. “That’s it.” He purrs, praising you like you were some wild thing he was working to tame.

Your cunt squeezes around him as he introduces a third digit, encouraging you to fuck his fingers with an eager tone. Slick rolling down his wrist in reflective streaks. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Give it to me, mi amor. You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

You nodded foggily as he upped his pace, your hands shooting forward to grasp futilely at his immovable wrist, his hand becoming a blur as he propelled you closer and closer towards an edge you couldn’t see but could feel fast approaching from all angles. Your moans rise in pitch, voice cracking as he works at an unyielding speed.

“Say my name, baby. All you have to do is say it and I’ll let you cum on my fingers nice, long and hard.” He murmurs, brows raised expectantly. “Come on, baby. Come on.”

“F-fuck, Santiago!” Comes out jumbled and whiny, your face buried into the side of his neck when suddenly his hand comes to an immediate standstill.

He laughs humorlessly, pulling out of you completely. A cry is promptly ripped from your lips when he lands a clean, wet slap square against your clit. The swollen bud pulsating as he ignores your whines.

Grasping your face in his palm, he smears your arousal along your cheeks as he forces you to look at him through hooded eyes bordered with tears. He searches your gaze for a moment, unbelieving amusement vaguely lining his features as he looks over you.

“Hmm.” He takes a moment to hum and haw, as if what he finds is in line with whatever he had thought. “Fucking it is.”

Making quick work of yanking your pants down your legs, he haphazardly tosses the material on the floor. His belt clinks as he unbuckles it, unzipping his jeans with one confident pull of his wrist.

He doesn’t bother removing his own bottoms completely, instead holding your unsteady gaze as you watch him pull his cock through the opening he’d made for himself. Grabbing a hold of your left thigh, he hooks your leg over his hip.

Fitting you against him, he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit, spreading his precum across your folds.

“You can be difficult with me, baby. I have all the time in the world for you.” He says in a tone so sweet, your brows furrow and lips press into a fine lined pout. His eyes soften at the way your expression crumples.

“Pobrecita,” He coos, peppering kisses across your face, against your cheeks, and nose, and eyelids— wherever he felt so inclined. You balled your hands into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as he began pushing inside of you.

You release a faint sob, his cock filling you to the hilt when tears begin streaming down your cheeks in angry droplets.

“What is it, bebita? Talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t let me in.” He mumbles into your skin, pulling his head up to rest his forehead against yours. His hips rocking slowly as ugly emotions rolled through your chest.

“Why—“ You suck in a big breath of air in between hiccups. “Why don’t you ever tell me you love me?”

His eyes are deep, chocolatey and steady when he speaks. “I tell you. I tell you all the time.” He says, bringing a hand up to card his fingers through your hair.

“In Spanish!” You argue unhappily, eyelashes matted together with tears, cheeks watermarked. “You tell me in Spanish, Santiago.”

“You think I don’t mean it?” He asks evenly.

“You don’t say it.” You insist.

Releasing a sigh, he leans closer, his lips ghosting against yours. “Te amo.” He whispers, low, just for you to hear. It was a sentiment only for your ears as he thrusts in and out of you in slow, meaningful drags.

“Te amo.” He says again, kissing you softly, the words being almost spoken into your mouth.

“Te amo.” Santiago repeats with another kiss before pulling back to look into your eyes, sparing one hand to cup your chin. “I love you.”

Your bottom lip trembles, from finally hearing the words, from how gently he looks at you. “I love you, Santi. I love you.”

A smile breaks onto his face as he leans in to capture your mouth again. Only parting after he’d thoroughly taken your breath away, leaving your chest heaving in his departure. “I know, babygirl.”

[existslikepristin]

This is completely unrelated to the fic I was working on last week, and also unrelated to... anything else I've ever written. It was almost just a joke between me and @buddysmut ... but then I wrote more than I thought I would (buddysmut has 100% permission to steal this and any concepts/phrases/etc in this due to basically suggesting it, btw). This is 0% effort, 0% editing, and 0% giving a shit. So, enjoy?

Tags: Gfriend, Sowon, another "anonymous" character, trashy porn script, TECHNICALLY no smut despite deepthroat and titty play... nah saying it isn't smut feels like the wrong call to make for legal reasons, this is very bad smut

Sowon sat on her grubby couch, reading the only script her agency could get her. "What the fuck? Dammit, I can't do this! This is... Dammit!"

Open scene on Sowon in security line at an airport.

[Officer] "Ma'am, please lift your arms above your head."

[Sowon] Complies. Her cropped tank top is short enough that the action reveals her areola. Linger on underboob shot as Officer slowly demands for Sowon's name and bra size.

[Officer] "Ma'am, you're going to need to come with me to the pat down inspection area."

[Officer] Roughly grabs Sowon by the arm to drag her to an open area, within full view of the rest of the security line. Informs the crowd that they will need to wait for the inspection before proceeding.

[Officer] "Ma'am, are you carrying any weapons?"

[Sowon] "No, officer! I promise!"

[Sowon] Squeezes boobs defensively.

[Officer] "Don't lie to me, bitch! These are too big to be natural!"

[Officer] Pulls Sowon's hands away. Angrily gropes Sowon's boobs. Linger on groping shot.

"What the fuck?! They can't even follow a logical plot... Why do I care?!"

[Officer] Pats Sowon down very slowly.

[Note] Jiggle boobs as much as possible.

[Officer] "We'll need to strip search you. Remove your top, bitch!"

[Sowon] Complies.

[Note] Squeeze boobs with tank top while removing. Allow to drop and bounce.

[Officer] Lifts, separates, bounces Sowon's boobs. Linger on all shots.

[Note] Crowd extras are taking pictures in the background.

[Officer] "Impossible! These feel natural! I'll need to taste them to make sure."

[Officer] Licks, sucks Sowon's boobs. Linger on all shots.

"If they want to linger on every shot, why do they need to keep saying it?! Fucking idiot perverts!"

[Sowon] "Officer, please! I promise I don't have any weapons!"

[Officer] "Don't talk back, bitch! What are you? Drunk? High?"

[Sowon] "No!"

[Officer] Covers Sowon's mouth.

[Officer] "I said not to talk back, whore! Get on your knees for a breathalyzer test!"

[Sowon] Complies.

[Officer] Presses dildo to Sowon's lips.

[Note] Do not use the small dildo again. Ratings fell dramatically last time. Dildo must be thirty centimeters long to leave room for handling, flexible, and at minimum four centimeters in girth.

[Officer] "Open wide!"

[Sowon] Complies hesitantly.

[Officer] Inserts dildo until visible through Sowon's neck.

[Sowon] Gags.

Sowon held a hand over throat, gulping with fear. "No... no way..."

[Officer] Thrusts dildo for a few seconds at a time, occasionally releasing so that Sowon may cough throat slime onto her boobs. Spreads throat slime over Sowon's boobs.

[Officer] "I can't get a good reading if you resist, slut! Comply with my instructions!"

[Sowon] Masturbates with a hand in her shorts.

"That... Nothing like that was in the contract!" Sowon threw the script onto the couch. Her phone buzzed insistently.

"What do you want?!" she shouted into the microphone at her agent.

"Where the hell are you?!" came the equally emphatic response, "Filming starts in half an hour, and you need makeup, now!"

"Half an...! The shoot isn't until Friday!"

"Exactly! What day do you think it is? Get down here now! If you're late, I'm not sucking off the director for you again! You're doing it!"

Sowon hung up and sprung off the couch, rushing downstairs and onto the street. She caught a taxi and was on her way. Timing was tight, but if the makeup artists were fast, she'd be good. She shuddered to imagine what her members would think of her if they knew she was taking a trashy porno gig to make ends meet. Her phone buzzed again, briefly this time.

A group text from Yerin to all of the members, along with a picture. It was a selfie, with Yerin dressed up as an airport security officer, winking into the camera, on a set Sowon had seen very, very recently.

got an acting gig baby! dunno who my costar is gonna be but i get to pump her up if you know what im sayin!

Sowon buried her face in her hands, suddenly feeling sick. "Shit..."

[kiwiana-writes]

for the AU fun facts game? Secret relationship taken to the next level: sercretly married AU

You have come to the RIGHT PLACE my friend because I once wrote fake divorce for another fandom lmfao

ONE: It's 2024, and nobody knows they're engaged.

Every milestone they've had as a couple has been splashed about for public consumption, dissected in thinkpieces and turned into quirky 'Times FirstPrince was just like every other early 20s relationship: a thread' social media posts. This is theirs, and they want to keep it that way for a while.

Just for a while.

TWO: The thing is. The thing is.

Technically, Henry is still in the process of giving up the title and removing himself from the line of succession. Everyone knows it's happening, and everyone and their dog has an opinion about it (David, Henry is fairly certain, feels quite positively about the whole thing); but the machinations of government are slow, and as it stands right now, Henry is still legally an HRH and fourth in line to the throne.

And as such, he can't marry without the sovereign's permission.

Ironically, the only punishment for doing so would be his (and his future children's) removal from the line of succession, the very thing he's in the process of doing anyway. It seems like it should be a win-win. But he's sure that once the media get wind of the engagement, the UK media narrative will focus even more strongly on how Henry's abandonment is That Evil (Brown) American's Fault, and he'll do everything in his power to protect Alex from as much of the blowback as they possibly can.

So they'll wait to tell everyone until Henry is no longer HRH Prince Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, but instead just Henry Fox, fiancé of Alex Claremont-Diaz.

THREE: They really don't mean to let it get as far as they do. They intend to tell Alex's family at Thanksgiving, but Oscar and Ellen start sniping at each other earlier than they usually do, and it kills the whole mood. Then Mary dies, and no family news can be announced during the mourning period unless absolutely unavoidable—and Henry doesn't want to burden his mum with news she can't share. Horrible old bigot or not, Mary was still her mother, and now Catherine is Queen Catherine I. She's got enough to deal with.

They'll try again in 2025.

FOUR: Bea announces she's pregnant at the end of January, and the rings go back in the drawer. She'd never ask them to delay announcing just because they know it will shift focus entirely, and that's exactly why Henry wants to.

"She took such a media beating for years," he tells Alex, his head resting on Alex's stomach, Alex's fingers running through his hair. "She deserves to enjoy all the positivity instead. But Christ, I want to be married to you."

Alex's hand stills for a moment. "I mean... we've kept secrets from the media before."

FIVE: Eleven weeks. They last eleven weeks before people start figuring it out, and Henry's fairly certain that's only because Nora is too busy with her job to piece it all together.

June nearly kills them when she finds out.

[Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts that would happen in a story.]

[whorangi1104]

Ghoap AU: Frozen Hearts and Electric Souls

Chapter 6: Gifts-Fuck around

Over the course of the two weeks Johnny had known Graves, they’d gotten along, although they weren’t particularly friendly. In the first week, Graves would be seen wandering around the base with a couple of his shadows, either talking to Price or inspecting their gear. Price himself spent more time in his office than out, which wasn’t unusual, but the time he spent on his paperwork was longer than usual, which got Soap worrying. He hadn’t originally been stressed by the mission, considering they would have multiple allies alongside them, but price’s frequent planning and stacks of intel and constant discussions with lasswell was starting to get to him. Soap decided to dive deeper into the info email he got and-Bloody Hell.

What the fuck are these abilities? Known abilities: Cloaking, power absorption, manipulation, matter distortion, illusion cloning. It all sounded like some demon from the depths of hell shite, except for the fact that Soap was staring at the information on his laptop screen in his room while waiting to deploy and track down these creatures in just two days. Maybe they had wanted an extra man on the team just for this. 

>>time skip<<

“Soap, the fuck you mean you want to try gift fusion?”

“Captain, it’s the coming mission, I don’t think it’s quite enough for simple attacks.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to meld two powers in one attack? There hasn’t been a success for the last decade.”

“But if it comes to that, shouldn’t we have a method prepped?”

“We do. But it’s a last resort, and don’t you dare try anything on your own, got it?”

“Yessir.”

Soap left Price’s office and couldn’t stop his brain from wandering over to gift fusion, which, in his defense, would work great if he and Price could create electrified water blasts, but there was always the chance of a backsplash… literally. Technically, the team didn’t have any fusion tactics, since Price was ‘transporting resources’ for Ghost to use his ability on, and Soap had just ‘taken advantage’ of the frozen floor, and it was technically considered team tactics, but the line was always blurred and to Soap, it was just as confusing as fucking english grammer. Then again, he really didn’t care about grammar, so fuck that. Would Gaz launching ice spikes from Ghost with pressurized air count as a fusion or just special use? Actually, who the fuck cares? Maybe he should just suggest the idea. And- who was that guy that was an animal gifted? Roach? Now that's just opportunities for the wildest ideas. No, Johnny, stop. We are not gonna think about flying supercharged electric eels. Actually wait-

—

“So in conclusion, you want Gaz and I to try… ice projectiles with…*deep inhale* quote on quote, ‘fire ants riding icicles’ with Roach?”

“Ye know, when ya say it like that, it sounds like I’m a lunatic.”

“And launching ice torpedoes with various explosives inside.”

“Impale and explode.”

“Sergeant… what the fuck? Where do you even get these ideas?”

“I mean, they could work, right?”

“...well yes, but first of all, animals don’t just automatically obey Roach, it’s complicated, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t asked Price about any of this?”

“Yeah, but-”

“We can’t do any risky shit without approval, and I trust my captain more than I trust you, Soap.”

“Away n’bile yer heid!”

“Speak English, Mactavish.”

“Sorry sir, let me translate. Go fuck yourself.”

“That’s better.”

“A’m gonna see if the others are in… can’t go te Price by myself…”

“Good luck”

“Won’t need it.”

Ghost rolled his eyes as his office door clicked shut behind the sergeant, and continued on autopilot filling out reports. The idea amused him, at least and he was sure Gaz would want to try it out, at least. Roach? Maybe. And maybe Price will be convinced to let them try. It sounded valid after all, he’d just have to wait and see.

literally my shortest chat with 660 words. I wrote 500 of it tonight. I have nothing to blame but my own procrastination.

[hyperesthesias]

Aphelion

Notes: Honestly, this is more of a self-insert because I feel horrible & I want Viktor to take care of me and make me coffee. :') If you'd like listening material while you read, Once Upon a December by Emile Pandolfi is what I wrote this to. (I am looking forward to writing the next part, where they attend the ball. I already have the music planned.💖)

Context: Anya is Viktor's childhood friend, and a wealthy potential donor to the Academy. She is a mage and a theoretical physicist. She has been using her knowledge of magic to help with HexTech. Viktor has been put in charge of being her Academy liaison throughout her donation process, and they have been spending time reconnecting while he 'courts' her on behalf of the Academy. She is a different humanoid species.

potential warnings: poverty.

AO3 link.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was the beginning of July and the soft warmth of Spring had melded into the torridness of Summer. The Sun was high in the sky, and despite it being the weekend, Viktor was nearly finished running his list of errands for Heimerdinger, though he did not venture either home or to the laboratory when he checked the last item off of his list. Instead, he had one more errand to run, this time one of a semi-personal nature. He was tasked with formally inviting Anya to an Academy Philharmonic event that was to take place three weeks from that day. While it was technically still Academy business, Viktor derived personal pleasure from speaking with Anya, and thus he saved this errand for last, hoping to spend the most of his time talking with her or enjoying her company. 

They had been reconnected for nearly two months, and it felt as though that time had passed as both years and merely days. He knew enough about her to answer any question any stranger might pose to him, and still he knew not enough about her to satisfy his own want to understand her most inner workings. He was grateful for any moments he could spend with her, especially privately. 

He went to her home to greet her with the invitation – he had driven her home once before, and remembered where it was and how to find it. It was a large mansion, secluded in the forests on the outskirts of Piltover, where the treelines and the soft hills seemed to line the edge of her property, right up to the verandas and balconies around the perimeter of the home itself. Woodland animals sometimes came to peer into the windows and came to eat the flora and vegetation she had planted, she said. Anya cared little for symbols of wealth, but the one and only thing she had afforded herself in excess was a large home, she told him. She had grown up in a tiny home – nearly a hut; from it, her mother had healed ill clients, and provided them with charms and spell bags, making all of her tinctures and oils right there in their family kitchen. There was little space for her to exist outside of the small corners of her parents’ workshop, and what constituted their home. Viktor did not disparage her for her desire for more space, especially when she could purchase it without debt and without harm to anyone else.

He arrived and stepped onto the marble porch, tapping on a bronze knocker three times. There was a delay in any response, and for a moment he feared he had come at an inopportune time, and that he had missed her. But as he debated whether or not to leave, a small voice came from an intercom just at the side of the large double doors of the entrance.

“Hello?” it called, staticky and rough.

Viktor hesitated, uncertain who was on the other end. “I am Viktor, calling for Anya,” he said.

“Viktor, come in, and take the elevator to your right.” He knew the voice to be Anya’s – it spoke in their shared language – but it sounded different and laden with fatigue.

A harsh buzzing sound came from the door, and the lock was released. Viktor opened the door and wandered into the foyer; though he had driven her home once, he had not been inside the mansion itself. It was spacious, made almost completely of marble, with tall windows along the back edge – the light of the midday Sun bounced off every surface and created a vibrant environment inside the home. It seemed to be only two floors, though each floor was twice as tall as a normal home’s structure, making the entire building feel cavernous and empty. It was deathly quiet, and he could hear no other sound from any other living thing inside. He turned right from the foyer, and stepped down a short hall, where he saw the entrance to an elevator. It had three buttons: one for a floor above, one for the floor he was on, and one for a floor below. 

“I’m up here,” the voice called from above him.

Viktor rode the elevator to the second floor and followed a stream of light nearby to an open door. He peered inside and found it was a bedroom, with a figure lying curled into a nebulous ball in the middle of the bed. “Anya?” he whispered, worry striking him as he tempted the threshold. 

The amorphous figure lifted its head and greeted him with a smile. “Viktor,” Anya murmured and tried to sit up; she had little strength to do so, and instead laid back down.

Quickly, Viktor hurried to her side and stood watching the weakness in her face; the honey of her skin was now pale, and the vibrant, rosy color of her lips was gone. “Anya – I will call for a doctor,” he said. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, but she had no fever; she was warmer than he, though her elevated temperature was normal for her species, and the nerve damage throughout his body accounted for his own chill.

“No,” she shook her head. “I am okay. I need sleep.”

“If you are ill, you must not wait to be treated.” There was urgency and fear in his voice.

Her eyes settled on him, and the memory of when he was a child, stricken with polio, lying helpless in her mother’s care passed quickly over her mind. “I am not ill,” she reassured him, doing her best to allay whatever memories of his own that plagued him. She reached for his hand, and held it, taking his fingers gently and stroking his knuckles languidly with her thumb. “What day is it?” she asked.

He was taken aback by the oddity of the question, and he needed a moment to recollect the calendar. “It is the second of July.”

“It is nearly aphelion,” she said. 

There was an astronomical clock at the Academy, but Viktor had only ever paid it little mind throughout his years there; though with his recent work with the crystal, and with runes and magic, he had briefly stopped to study it on occasion. The Sun and the Earth would be farthest from each other in two days, according to the calendar, marking the day of aphelion. “This makes you ill?” he asked, in ignorance and in worry.

She breathed with agreement. “Tired. And hungry. We take our energy from the Sun. When it is farthest, we are weakest.”

“What can I do?” he asked, his hand moving to caress her face; her skin was dry and thirsty, yet still soft and pliant. 

Anya nestled into his touch, and her eyes fluttered as the callouses of his hands traced the features of her visage. He was gentle with her, despite the roughness of his hands, there was not an ounce of pressure in his fingers, but he touched her like porcelain. “Stay,” she whispered. She had no one to keep her company, no one with whom to commiserate. All of her kinfolk were huddled in their own homes far away from her, with their own families and their parents and their children; after the deaths of her parents, she had no siblings, nor any cousins, and no other adopted kin. She had only Viktor. 

Viktor sat on the edge of the bed, caressing her arm as she began to fall back into slumber. He recalled the Summers they had spent together as children, and he found it difficult to remark the absence of something: the absence of his friend at a specific point in time, especially when he had no concept of its meaning at the time. He and Anya did not see each other regularly anyway, that to recall a specific week where she was not with him was almost impossible. He wished he had known then. 

Her long, dark hair was spread across the rest of the bed, and he was careful not to touch it as he fixed the blanket over her. 

There was a sitting area at the far end of the bedroom – and it was less a bedroom than it was a suite – there was a couch and two cushioned chairs, and a small library filled with books that were of most importance to her: books on her people, their cultures and their needs, their magic; there were books on physics and astronomy, astrological maps and charts rolled into scrolls at the top of each book shelf; there were books solely of art and photographs of statues from distant lands; books of poetry and mythologies from all cultures, not only her own. Each book had frayed edges and worn pages. He took the liberty of pulling a few from her shelf, hoping to ask for forgiveness in place of permission. He read them carefully and in her voice, reading each poem as though she were reciting it herself; reading each fact of her culture and of her species as if she were detailing it to him. He stayed and read and thumbed through books as she slept, and as the Sun moved from midday to late afternoon, as the shadows elongated and cast themselves as spectres throughout her bedroom.

Anya woke with a start and a gasp – Viktor immediately stood and made his way to her side, he leaned on furniture to aid his steps. 

“What is it?” he asked.

Fear gripped her eyes and she fought for her own breath. 

His hand caressed her face again – she was hotter this time. “A nightmare, myš’a?” 

Her breath shuddered in and out of her lungs and she managed a nod. The terror inside of her began to quell itself at the presence of her friend. His hand was cool, and it staved off the heat of adrenaline. 

“What should I get you?” he offered, a thought out loud for himself, trying to remember what kindnesses had been offered to him by his mother when he was a boy, when nightmares had crept and stolen from him sleep and peace. 

“Coffee,” she said. “I would like a cup of coffee.”

He nodded. “Alright. I will be back with coffee.” He pulled the blanket over her shoulder as he began to leave, taking his cane with him. 

“The water is clean,” she made a point to say to him as he disappeared from the doorway.

Its significance was not lost on him. He had a paranoia of unclean water – a phobia developed in young childhood after his disastrous encounter with polio. As a growing child and adolescent, he could not consume water that had not been boiled before his eyes; and as a young man in Piltover, once his fortunes and his means of income changed, he had deliveries of purified water brought to his apartment at the Academy twice a month. It was an additional expense he was not willing to relinquish.

The kitchen was broad and well organized, a pour-over coffee maker and a stained mug sat beneath a cabinet next to the stove, upon which rested a well-used kettle. He opened the faucet and hesitantly filled the kettle with water from the tap, the stream of water was perfectly clear and it gave no foul odour or pungent taste as he tested it: there was no tinge of metal, neither any grit left on his tongue. The water was crisp and almost cold, despite the Summer heat outside; it tasted like pure, soft minerals. As a child he could never have imagined a place to live where water was safe to drink from the tap itself, he doubted it, even still; his apprehensions about it were only allayed in that the water needed to be boiled anyway. He set the kettle to flame, and searched the cabinet above the pour-over, where he found various grounds of coffees organized alphabetically. 

He returned to the bedroom with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in the mug that had been set aside on the counter. He found Anya sitting upright in the bed, surrounded by a pile of blankets and pillows, all pliable and cleanly – none of them were torn or patched. It was impossible to not notice the absence of things that were constant in their daily lives before, and he wondered how foreign it all must have felt to her.

He sat beside her on the bed again as he handed her the hot mug and rested his cane against his side. “Are you hungry?”

She breathed in the bitter scent as she took a sip. “I am. I am famished.” She took another sip and gave her companion a glance. “No, I should not say that. We both know what it is to starve. Never should I compare myself to it again. Not without honesty.”

“May it never be so,” he said. 

“Forgive me, Viktor. I have not asked why you came to see me.”

He shook his head, insisting she needed no forgiveness. “It was nothing urgent. It can wait until you feel better.”

“Give me something else to think about,” she beseeched him.

He looked at her again and saw the clutches of whatever nightmare that had invaded her, still holding their talons inside of her psyche. He nodded, devotedly, and made from his vest pocket an envelope. “I was instructed to give this to you,” he said.

She took it, gracefully, and opened it as her mug rested in her lap. “What is it?”

“It is an invitation to the Academy Symphony Ball. It will be hosted three weeks from now, hopefully you will feel more yourself then. It is a charity event for the Music Department, to raise funds for instruments and scholarships.” 

Anya smiled as she read it. “I always wanted to learn to play violin. We could never afford it.”

“I only learned to play piano after I moved to Piltover – to the Academy. I would practice in the music room at times when I could not concentrate on my studies.”

She looked at him and chuckled. “In that case, I would be happy to donate. Will you be attending?”

He drew a breath and looked away as he thought. “I have not received a formal invitation.”

“Are you not my liaison? You must attend, then,” she coaxed.

“It is white-tie, Anya, I have nothing to wear.”

“That is an easy remedy. I won’t go without you.”

He breathed out sharply, staring at her with a flatly amused expression – he was recalling now her sweet stubbornness. She had a way of pulling him out of his hermit’s shell, and the cramped spaces in which he felt most sedentary, if not comfortable. “And I suppose I cannot refuse you?”

Her expression softened, not wanting her friend to feel forced neither taken for granted. “You are free to do whatever you would like, Viktor. Free.” Her hand caressed his face, feeling the coarse patches of skin along his jaw, left behind from when he had shaved the day before. “But know that I enjoy your company, more than as my liaison. I had hoped to attend as your friend and companion.”

Viktor felt himself stuttered with surprise and uncertainty that she had spoken such feelings of friendship aloud. He had known, of course, the boundaries of their professional relationship had been obscured by their accord as childhood playfellows – and encouraged to be so by Heimerdinger – but he had not known if his desire for casual conversation and company had been reciprocated. He found his internal balance to be askew and stunned that she would want to associate with him further.

“Very well,” he said with a stiff nod.

She smiled, happily. “I will contact a tailor for your tuxedo.”

“No, Anya – that is too much.”

“I told you it was easy to remedy.”

He sighed again at her stubbornness.

“Besides, what if you accompany me to some other function? You will need something to wear then, as well. Consider it an investment,” she teased.

He managed a scoffed chuckle and he shook his head.

A lull of silence hung between them for a brief moment, and Anya watched as many thoughts passed over her friend’s face; he looked into the distance, she saw him trace every carving in the marble of her home, she saw him read the titles of books on the other end of her room, she watched as he stared at nothing in particular. She was not the only with nightmares, nor ghosts that haunted her – even in waking. Her wealth had cured her of many ails, it had ceased the bleeding of many wounds, but still, scars remained. She knew it to be the same for Viktor.

“Thank you for staying,” she said.

Viktor turned to his friend with a wordless agreement. 

She reached for his hand, and took his fingers. “You are the only one who understands what it is like, to be here.”

“I do.” He took her fingers and graced her nails. “And I am happy to be here.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. 

Viktor stood and gathered himself to leave, not wanting to outlast his welcome as a guest, but more so feeling a quickened desire to flee – that if he stayed any longer, he would be consumed with the want for her companionship, for the longing in the affection and knowledge of her soul and her mind.

“You are welcome to stay in a guest room, if you would like,” Anya offered. “It is getting dark, the roads can be unsettling at night. I would not mind the company.”

Neither would he have minded. But Viktor refused her. “I will check on you tomorrow.” He saw a color of disappointment in her eyes as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom. He wanted to stay, and sit at her side, to ask about her thoughts and her theories, he wanted to expound upon himself, he wanted to learn of her. But it would be purposeless. He cherished her friendship – he always had, even as a young boy – and he had resigned himself to a spouseless life; but he intuited himself well enough to know he would desire more than friendship from her. Theirs was a professional relationship, he reminded himself; and he reminded himself what he had read and understood again earlier that evening: she would long outlive him. Friendship was far more suiting for them both; playfellows was all they had been, and all they would be.

“Goodbye, Anya.”

Anya knew her friend well enough to know sadness on the lines of his face. She wondered what nightmares haunted him, what fears wound themselves like rope around his neck. She wished to cut it and set him free. But it was his rope to share, and she did not take it from him; only that she wanted to share it. She wanted to share everything with him, no matter how unwise it might have been. 

“Goodbye, Viktor.”

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

Continuity and Tonal Shifts in Season Ten

This is gonna be a really long meta describing some of my frustrations with the current writing decisions. I'm approaching these as someone who loves the show and wants it to succeed, and I'm not making any sweeping "the show is problematic" or "the writers are bad" statements, just that the writing decisions lately have been poor in my opinion and I need to express my thoughts on that.

So as a lot of people may or may not know, Fink and Cranor alternate writing episodes, and according to Patreon, they have minimal communication about what is going to happen in the next episode, giving the other relative creative freedom. This often works when the style of Night Vale is random, disjointed, and with a lot of left-field plot devices, but with this current plot line so grounded in literal stuff and reality, it is SO FRUSTRATING. Especially because Fink mentioned in a patreon post that he only backreads the past five episodes to maintain continuity - something that clearly does not work when your show is over 230 episodes long, has had tons of live shows, and expanded into three books. I feel like the last three episodes have had a very off-putting disconnect, and that makes this writing decision REALLY REALLY OBVIOUS in a glaring can't-overlook-it-anymore way.

There's no way to know which writer wrote which episode, but we'll say "odd writer" and "even writer" for continuity's sake. I have my personal opinion about which writer wrote what, but I don't want to share that here. It could be that Fink is odd writer and Cranor is even writer, or it could be the other way around, but what matters is that odd writer and even writer didn't communicate.

227, written by odd writer: Blake lures Cecil away with a made-up sob story and Cecil departs the station. Lubelle comes to the radio station and gives a long speech about Night Vale, condescends about Cecil's hold over the town, explains away the weather, says outright that she's taking over, and leaves with the ominous "show over, Night Vale, show over" closing tag. What's going to happen? Find out in two weeks!

228, written by even writer: Actually she just briefly broke into the radio station and left without a struggle and Blake was just tricking Cecil and let him go, and now Cecil is back and Lubelle hasn't taken over anything yet, nor kidnapped him. But science is going to be made illegal to stop Dr. Lubelle and the Univeristy, and that will really mess with Carlos! What's going to happen? Find out in two weeks!

229, written by odd writer: Science is illegal but the University decided to just straight up ignore it and continue with all of their stuff using a bunch of technical work-arounds and sheer numbers to overwhelm the town, so it doesn't really affect anyone other than Carlos, who by the way is barely in an episode that's supposed to be about his struggles. Anyway, Lubelle brought all of her faculty into town, so that's probably bad. What will they do? Find out in two weeks!

It's starting to feel like we're reliving the Star Wars sequel trilogy, except there's two JJ Abrams and neither of them is talking to each other. Every episode ends on this intense buildup and then it immediately fizzles away at the start of the next one. It's like getting edged by someone who keeps pulling their hand away so they can go on their phone and type "actually everything is fine now" before they get back to it.

There's one other thing I want to mention about this odd writer/even writer dilemma, which is episode 225. This was an odd writer episode, and in it, Lubelle asks Cecil to come down to the University for some "tests", an offer that he finds very offensive, but one that's punctuated by Dr. Jones snickering that Station Management has been explained away. It really feels like odd writer is trying to set up plotline where the University becomes interested in Cecil, whether that's for his connection to the town or his relationship with Carlos, and even writer just does not want to let that happen.

There's even a bit of a tonal shift, where odd writer paints Dr. Jones as cunning, "Couldn't be station management. They don't even exist. They've been, well... they've been explained." (episode 225) "Looks like Blake succeeded in tricking that fool away from his mic," (episode 227) and then even writer does an about-face and makes him cowardly instead, forcing odd writer to go along with that characterization; so odd writer decides to just write him out of the story without really doing anything.

The lack of communication between the two writers is becoming more and more obvious, and for the fans, more and more frustrating. There are also so many great fan-assembled resources that demonstrate every episode a character or plot point has appeared in, so I feel like it shouldn't be that hard for the writers to find their own system of continuity - or hell, just borrow ours and then throw in a "extra thank to the contributors of the Night Vale wikia" in the credits or something. You guys do this for a living! Is it so much to ask if we'd like you to be good at it?

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Okaeri (a scrapped 'Another Level' scene)

Hello!! I decided to post this old draft of Rinko and Gojo's reunion after he was released from the Prison Realm to give you guys a lil look at just how much changed from when I originally started writing Another Level to where we are now.

This draft was something I wrote very early on, and by the time we got Gojo out of the Prison Realm, it didn't fit the story at all.

I'll provide a breakdown at the end to give more context and commentary, but the primary thing you'll need to know before reading is that, originally, I had intended for Rinko to stay in hiding and completely isolated throughout almost the entire 19 days. So, that's where she's at in this draft that I eventually scrapped completely 🙃

Happy reading 💕

If you haven't already, you can read Another Level on AO3 😊

*This work contains possible JJK Manga spoilers. Gojo x Original Female Character. Uhhhh. Implied smut?

Okaeri

2018

Twenty days.

It had been twenty days since he’d been sealed. 

Well, technically, it was nineteen and a few hours.

A glance at the clock told her it was still the middle of the night.

Around day eleven, Rinko asked herself when she’d become the kind of person who counted days like this.

She used to go weeks without speaking to him. Months without seeing him. It never bothered her before.

Got somethin’ real important to tell ya.

It was because he was still their win condition. 

Because they couldn’t win this without him.

Got somethin’ real important-

Probably didn’t help that she hadn’t left his damn condo in almost fifteen days now. She’d gone to let Shoko reassess her injuries and get the all-clear afterward because, apparently even Shoko didn’t fucking know where Gojo lived.

Secretive little shit.

Rinko had since learned that the list was shorter than she originally thought, only including her, Yaga, and Nanami.

Well, it only included her now-

Got somethin’ real-

Having gotten enough basic food to last her for a long time when she’d gone to see Shoko, she’d been isolated since.

And going fucking crazy.

At least the dreams had stopped. Mercifully, they’d stopped a few days after her fucking delusional wet dream.

Got somethin’ real important to tell ya.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Rinko forced herself out of the torturous safety of the bed. She needed to shower and get dressed. Wear real clothes and feel like a fucking human instead of a walking corpse just because her- best friend was gone.

She’d received a text earlier telling her to meet Hime, Shoko, and Yoshinobu at the Tokyo Tech campus because they had news, but she’d been asleep. So, she’d texted Shoko to let her know she would head that way soon.

Her body ached from the strain of moving for the first time in what felt like days. But she knew that wasn’t true. She’d forced herself to make food the day prior, staring at the stove as she made herself eggs and toast, wondering how much longer she’d be able to force herself to live like this.

Unable to help. She’d had to learn about Megumi from Shoko, unable to do anything to help. Knowing it was partially because Tsumiki-

The shower drowned her sobs and amplified them at the same time.

Pulling another one of Gojo’s sweaters over her head, she realized she needed to do laundry. She’d quickly run out of her own shirts, which she hadn’t been too worried about. But she drew the line at wearing his pants.

Grumbling to herself, she looked through her bag on the floor of his closet before moving into the bedroom to search through the pile near the hamper. She was not going to wear his pants. Even if she had to wear a dirty, gross pair of her own.

As she rifled through the pile, swearing briefly when she couldn’t find any, she continued mumbling.

“Fucking swear, I know I brought more than one pair. Where the fuck are they?”

She let out a small cry of relief when she finally found a pair at the bottom of his hamper.

“S’legs are too fuckin long anyway,” she said to herself, sticking her right leg in. “Would fuckin trip before I could-”

A quiet chuckle cut her off, halting with her left leg halfway into the pants. She blinked slowly.

She was really fucking losing it.

There was another chuckle, this time causing Rinko to whip around to see him standing in the doorway, smiling at her.

He was wearing the same clothes she’d last seen him in, his jacket ripped to shreds. His hands were in his pockets as he stared at her, blindfold nowhere to be seen.

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “Nope. Officially too far. Don’t care who it is on the council. I’ll just fucking- I’ll just kill all of them. I could do it. More than capable. Just a bunch of old fucks. I’ve gotta fucking leave this place.”

Yanking her pants the rest of the way on, she kept mumbling to herself as she refused to look at the specter in the doorway.

“Fucking hallucinating, great. Oh, Hime’s gonna fucking love this. Never let me fucking live it down. Know exactly what she’s gonna say, too: ‘I told you so, Rinko. I knew he’d drive you crazy someday.’ Fucking-”

Rinko cut off when she tried to walk through the door, ignoring the stupid apparition of her damned delusional, fucked up mind, only to find that this apparition was solid.

She blinked for a moment, staring straight at the hallucination’s chest.

Did she- was the door closed, and she just forgot? Had her crazy dumbass just fucking run into the door?

“Rinko,” it whispered, arms going around her waist as she stumbled. “Rinko-chan-”

“I have fucking lost it,” she breathed, tears in her eyes as it grasped her chin, forcing her to look up.

Bright blue eyes from her fucking nightmares at this point.

She closed her eyes immediately, squeezing them shut and willing herself to make it go away. To stop torturing herself.

“Rinko,” he repeated quietly. “I’m here. You might be crazy, sweetheart, but not that crazy-”

“Exactly what an insane person’s hallucination would say,” she stated.

Gojo laughed, the sound ripping her chest open. And she felt that void blow wide open with it as she realized she’d truly gone insane.

Completely broken and unhinged, and honestly, maybe Shoko would understand if she just crawled back into bed. Because, at this point, she couldn’t do it. Fully and truly, honestly couldn’t do it anymore.

“I always knew you liked me more than you admitted,” he teased, his voice sounding too real. “Open your eyes, baby.”

“You’re not fucking real,” she whispered, her voice cracking on the last word. “I-”

“Rinko,” he cut her off, his breath against her lips. “Rinko, baby, look at me.”

When she still didn’t open her eyes, he hummed quietly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Baby,” his voice was amused now. “Don’t make me spank you-”

Her eyes shot open, irritation flooding her as she met his bright blue, glowing eyes as he grinned.

Only this asshole would-

“Thought that might get you to open them,” he murmured, chuckling when she scowled. “Baby, I’m here.”

Her face scrunched as he leaned even closer, nudging his nose against hers teasingly.

“Rinko-chan,” he breathed, his lips brushing hers. “I’m home.”

Not waiting for a reply, he pressed his lips to hers gently before moving his hand from her chin to tangle in her hair. His other arm stayed around her waist, pulling her so she was flush against him.

“Missed you,” he said, sucking her tongue into his mouth. “Missed you so much, baby.”

Tears were running down her cheeks, her mind still not believing what was in front of her was real. He ground his hips into her, moving to lick her neck and groaning when she whimpered quietly.

Giving in slowly, her hands grasped his shirt, fingers clenching the fabric as she sobbed.

“I- you were- I thought-”

“Couldn’t stay away from you,” he teased, sucking her pulse harshly, moaning as one of her hands went to his hair, tugging the strands lightly. “Had somethin’ important to tell you, remember?”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she whined, feeling Gojo’s laugh rumble through her. “You can’t just-”

He silenced her by leaning back up, capturing her lips again, and slowly walking her backward.

“Shh, baby,” he hummed, biting her lip. “Just let me make you feel good. Been a bit, yeah? You miss me?”

-

Commentary

Obviously, this is very different from what we had in Something Important.

As I said before, I wrote this early on. So by the time we got to Shibuya, this draft no longer fit. It just didn't fit who Rinko was as a person anymore. With the growth she experienced, especially in the few months leading up to Shibuya, she wouldn't react this way.

I've mentioned a few times that I hadn't intended to really include the Culling Game arc. And I still didn't, not really. But having Rinko hiding away and being scared of the higher-ups just isn't who she is. Especially when it comes to her kids' safety. Like hell would Rinko have just sat in isolation with no updates on the kids. Hell no. If they'd tried to get her to, she'd have stormed one of the barriers herself and killed anyone who got in between her and her kids.

I also felt this draft made it seem way too much like Rinko's life revolved around Gojo when it doesn't. So, having her sit around and count the days just felt cheap.

There was no way Rinko would have sat by while her kids were fighting for their lives like this. And there was no way, after the realizations and the growth she'd gone through, that she would crumble like this and allow herself to sink into things like this.

But on top of that, there was no way that Rinko would be able to just welcome Gojo back as her fuck buddy without her heart completely breaking in half after all the loss that she'd experienced at this point.

Personally, this would have ended up feeling far to emotionally detached from all the trauma and loss that the two of them have gone through, and it would have negated any positive character development we'd had up until then as well.

The more I've read this back over to write this lil commentary, the more I fall in love with how Something Important turned out. Because it genuinely felt like the perfect reunion for these two after everything that had happened.

If I remember correctly, I wrote this way back before I wrote I Say "Sayonara." Soooo, that should tell you something about how much had changed 🙃

Also, you'll notice a few small details that I snuck into other installments once I realized that this one was going to have to be scrapped.

One of them being the joke about Gojo's legs being too long for her to wear his pants, which I included in Fragmented Reality instead.

SO. There's that. A small look behind the curtain of one of the original drafts that was completely scrapped in favor of something much better 😂😂

Did I MAKE ANY SENSE?? I FEEL LIKE I DIDN'T BUT HOPEFULLY I DID 🫠🫠

ALSO, I will include a fun lil extra blurb that I was never able to include anywhere, and that made me sad because I found it hilarious:

They lay there comfortably for a few minutes, focusing on each other’s breathing.

“Yoshinobu!” she suddenly gasped out, causing Gojo to scowl down at her when she tried to shove him away. “Hime! I was supposed to meet them-”

“They already knew you weren’t going to make it,” he cut her off, swatting her hands and putting them back into his hair. “I told them I’d update you and get back to them.”

“Oh,” she breathed, settling back once more.

He lifted his head back up to look her in the eye, his gaze serious.

“And don’t you ever yell Gakuganji’s name after I’ve just cum inside you,” he deadpanned, pulling a breathless laugh from her. “I mean it, Rinko. That’s enough to make my dick shrink forever.”

“I’m sorry!” she gasped, the weight in her chest lifting with each giggle.

[mariacallous]

In a rambling, two-hour-plus conversation in an X Space, Elon Musk caved to former president Donald Trump on policy issues that directly affect the billionaire’s businesses, like energy policy and climate change.

Trump dominated the conversation, appearing to speak with a pronounced lisp and at times leaving little room for Musk to speak. After starting the call discussing the July assassination attempt against Trump, Musk and Trump bemoaned millions of criminals from all over the world flooding into the US, which is not happening. The former president voiced views and support for policies at odds with Musk’s business interests, like increasing US oil drilling and universal electric vehicle adoption.

“My views on climate change and oil and gas probably differ from what most people would assume, because my views are actually pretty moderate in this regard,” Musk said after Trump suggested the need for additional US oil drilling. “I don't think we should vilify the oil and gas industry and the people that have worked very hard in those industries to provide the necessary energy to support the economy.”

Musk then asked Trump to start a “government efficiency” body that he would be invited to join if the former president were reelected. “You’re the greatest cutter,” Trump told Musk.

The X event was delayed by nearly 45 minutes after the launch was mired in technical difficulties. It’s not clear exactly what caused the X Space to fail for so long, but Musk blamed “a massive DDoS” attack targeting the platform right as the conversation was slated to begin at 8 pm ET. By the time Musk started the conversation, around 1 million people were listening to it live, despite Trump’s suggestion that “millions” of people had joined the Space. Despite Musk’s claims of a cyberattack, the rest of X appeared to be working just fine at the time of the event.

“A distributed denial-of-service attack against our servers saturated about all of our data lines like, we had hundreds of gigabits of data saturated,” Musk said at the top of the call. “We think we've overcome most of that.”

This isn’t the first time a political X Space glitched out. Florida governor Ron DeSantis planned to announce his presidential campaign in an X Space with Musk last year, but the platform couldn’t withstand the more than 660,000 listeners. Minutes after the conversation started, the link to the Space broke. When the audio stream worked, it was overwhelmed by screeching feedback. At the time, Musk said X’s servers were overloaded.

In several follow-up X posts, Musk said that the platform was stress-tested to withstand at least “8 million concurrent listeners.” Musk delayed the conversation several times and said that the full audio would be made available after the call.

The Kamala Harris campaign spent the evening on Trump’s social media platform, Truth Social, reposting comments the former president made disparaging DeSantis’ Space with Musk last year. On Truth Social at the time, Trump posted that “the DeSanctus TWITTER launch is a DISASTER! His whole campaign will be a disaster. WATCH!”

“The two worst people you know are live this evening,” the Harris campaign wrote in a fundraising email subject line on Monday.

Repeatedly, Trump and Musk vilified Harris and her family during the interview, citing debunked conspiracies about her past.

Musk repeatedly stated throughout the interview that he previously considered himself a Democrat. However, in recent weeks he has moved more explicitly toward the right. Moments after the July assassination attempt against Trump, Musk formally endorsed the former president in a post on X. Musk reportedly pledged to donate $45 million per month to America PAC, the pro-Trump super PAC that the billionaire started. He has since denied these reports, saying in a later interview that he would be making “lower level” donations.

The interview reached 1.3 million listeners at its peak.

[fcble]

GREAT THINGS, PART I

"Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known." — Jeremiah, 33:3.

In which Haksu becomes an idol in an unorthodox way. FEATURING: Kang Haksu, Lee Taein, Fable ensemble SETTING: November 2017 WORD COUNT: 10.3k WARNINGS / NOTES: Stalking, blackmail, extremely heavy-handed religious themes. Welcome to the piece that kicked my ass for over a year 🎉🎉. As in I started it a year ago and then wrote 9k words in the past two weeks. I have versions of this piece in three different perspectives. This is technically a rewrite of something I wrote earlier but now a few times longer 🎉🎉.

You’re going to do great things. You know this because it’s all anyone’s ever told you. You hear it from your father and your mother and your father’s father—until he dies—and your father’s mother—until she dies too—and your mother’s father and your mother’s mother.

You wonder when the great things will start. Time flips by, like the thin pages of the Bible that has resided on your bedside table since you were five. You’re a kid, a teenager, a young adult. You enter and exit middle school and high school. You begin to attend a mediocre university in Seoul, because it’s the only one in the city that accepted you. You brush that off, because you’re going to be great.

You think if you’re really, truly, going to be great, you might have to do it yourself.

The man’s name is Lee Taein. You meet him for the first time in a dream. You memorize the lines and planes of his face, because something about him is familiar. You conclude he must be rich or famous or both. 

In the dream, he doesn’t tell you his name. You find it yourself, on the Internet, holding the image of his face in your head as you comb through the other dream fragments: a stage, a song, a single voice. You’ve never thought about being a singer. You wonder why. 

You know how to sing. You’ve spent over a decade in choirs. You could be a singer.

That, you decide, is greater than whatever you’re doing now, which isn’t much of anything, and certainly nothing someone great would be doing.

You do your research. A lot of research. You spend your nights in bed, the darkness of your bedroom illuminated only by your laptop screen. In the mornings, you spend twice as long covering up the shadows under your eyes. 

It’s a worthwhile exchange. You learn Lee Taein is forty-nine years old. Last year, he parted ways with SM Entertainment to found his own entertainment company. You dig deeper.

He married his current wife four years ago. Her name is Jung Eunyoung. She’s forty-three, and yet has risen no higher than a secretary for a minor law firm. You learn all this from her very public Instagram profile.

His biggest vice is gambling—some of it barely legal, most of it not. You find a news article from 1999 detailing an illegal gambling ring bust. His name is mentioned once.

His new company is called Zenith Entertainment. You’re briefly disappointed to see that the last time they held auditions was February.

There are partially censored Tweets and forum threads speculating the identities of the company’s trainees. You look at the grainy pictures and read the names: Jaeseop, Kiyoung, Eunsu. 

You keep meticulous notes: index cards and the Notes app and a notebook you bought solely to organize your thoughts. Your grades slip. You haven’t attended class in three weeks.

You spend your days at a coffee shop across the street from Zenith Entertainment. You sit in a corner with a view of the building. You order the two cheapest items on the menu: a cookie and a small black coffee. You open your laptop and your notebook and pretend to work, covering the pages of your notebook with another sheet of paper whenever someone walks by.

Mostly, you watch.

You keep track of the people entering and exiting the building. Many of them work in the copywriting agency, based on their business casual outfits. You’ve stepped into the building once, only to be overwhelmed by the bright lights and the quiet hum of computers and the feeling of wrongness at being in a professional setting.

Taein dresses almost the same. If you didn’t know what he looked like, you’d miss him. The difference is in his stride and his posture: back straight, head forward, quick and even steps. You like him even more for that. He arrives in the late morning and leaves after the sun sets. You note the times: 9:43 AM, 10:02 AM, 9:56 AM, 7:19 PM, 7:48 PM, 8:10 PM.

You learn the intricacies of his schedule. There are days when he never arrives at all. You watch and wait as the hours tick by. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock, ten, eleven. No Lee Taein in sight. You wonder what he does when he doesn't work.

There are times when he'll step outside in the middle of the day, the movement catching your eye. You watch him stand on the sidewalk across the street and smoke a cigarette while he speaks on the phone. Twenty minutes later, he'll head back inside.

Sometimes you watch him leave accompanied by a younger man, somewhere around your age, who walks nearly, but not quite, behind him. You assume that must be his personal assistant or secretary or something along those lines.

Some of the people who visit the building must be trainees. You identify them from their age—young—and their dress—casual—and the times they arrive—all throughout the day. Occasionally, they stop by the coffee shop first, becoming more and more familiar to you.

There’s the tall foreigner who pronounces Americano with a distinctly Western accent. He arrives early in the morning, ordering his coffee shortly after you. He crosses the street in casual clothes and leaves in the late afternoon with the copywriter crowd, having changed into a more formal suit jacket and dress pants. You miss his departure for days until you realize he’s dressed differently.

There are the two high schoolers: one in a lurid yellow school uniform and another in a more sensible navy blue one. Sometimes their friend arrives earlier than them and sits a few tables down from you. He doesn’t wear a uniform. He sits for a half hour or so with his earbuds in while his iced coffee melts in front of him, until the high schoolers arrive. They talk loudly and boisterously, as if no one is listening.

You listen. You learn their names—Eunsu, Byeonghwi, Mingeun—and their orders—cold brew with an extra shot of espresso, iced caffè mocha, iced caffè latte. You hear them complain about teachers and Taein and trainee life.

You wonder if they could be your way in.

At night, when your roommate asks where you spend all your time, you tell him you got a job. He asks where. You fidget and your palms sweat and your heartbeat quickens. You stare past him and lie.

That weekend, you travel a few kilometers farther than usual and confess your sins.

Absolved, you think you’re ready for what comes next. 

You have to talk to Taein. You can’t be great if all you do is wait and watch. 

You peruse your notes, all of that information collected from your research and your observations, and then you devise your plan. You ask for His guidance and affirmation every day until you receive it. It comes in the form of one of your professors agreeing to overlook the sudden string of zeros in your homework assignments and tests. You were a decent enough student until a little over a month ago. If your previous work can be so easily overworked and dismissed, then maybe it’s time for your true calling. You’ve waited for this moment your entire life.

Less than a week later, you walk into the building like you belong there, not too early, not too late. You wear a winter jacket, which you shed as soon as you step inside, over a stiffly starched collared shirt and your best Sunday pants. You step into the elevator, alone, and decide to start at the top. You press the button for the fifth floor. It refuses to light up. You press it again and again to no avail. You stand in the still elevator and try the fourth floor.

Your ascent begins. You planned it all out: it's just after nine in the morning, after all the copywriters start their work and much too early for the students to be around. You're a last-minute callback from the audition, though that was months ago. It explains why Taein won't recognize you. You spoke to someone over the phone, someone named—what was her name? You can't remember. She said you should visit, so you're here—and oh, the appointment isn't in his calendar? She must have forgotten. You'll smile winningly and apologetically and Taein will be so charmed he'll agree to take you on on the spot.

You haven’t thought farther than that.

You step out of the elevator and into a dimly lit hall. The very air seems stale. There seems to be no one else around, so you proceed slowly down the hall. The fluorescent lights cast everything in a sickly yellow shade. You’re presented with two doors. The one on the left has a small glass window. You angle yourself away from it, on the off chance that someone sees you and knows you don’t belong. The one on the right is windowless, a blank slate of dark brown wood.

You debate internally for a few moments. The longer you stay there, the longer you risk meeting someone other than Taein. You try the plain door. The knob turns easily in your hand.

“Jaeseop?” A voice asks from inside. You aren’t Jaeseop, but you’ve seen that name before.

You steel yourself, silently ask for His guidance, and turn the knob all the way.

“If you’re asking about managing the social media accounts again, the answer is no,” the voice continues. It belongs to a middle-aged man, in a plain dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a ballpoint pen in the breast pocket. He looks away from his computer screen, and you find yourself face-to-face with Lee Taein.

“You must be lost. The copywriting agency is on the first two floors,” Taein says.

“I’m supposed to be here,” you say. You bow, politely, to him, then add on, “My name is Kang Haksu. I received a call a few days ago—”

Taein cuts you off, which is maybe for the better, because now that you were about to say it, your story is paper-thin and a bit silly. “You didn’t receive anything. There were no calls. You’re no one.”

Nothing is going to plan, so you do your best to improvise. “I know you’re developing an idol group. I need to be part of it.”

Taein stares at you like he can’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You believe them. You need this. Who will you be if you don’t do this?

“This is not a charity.” His voice is bone dry. “We can’t get everything we want in life. It’s better to learn that lesson early. Tell whoever sold you your information on my business and I that I don’t take charity cases.”

“I’m not a sasaeng.” His words sting. It’s a veiled accusation, but an accusation nonetheless.

“I never said you were. People like you are a dime a dozen, thinking you can waltz into the entertainment industry with no experience and no connections and immediately become a superstar. It takes much more hard work, skill, and luck than someone like you can imagine. Try your luck somewhere else.”

His words strip you to the core. Were you too naive, thinking you’d be different? You shrink back from the ferocity of it all, cowed more than you’d like to admit. You don’t take his words to heart. You can’t go anywhere else. You’re supposed to be here, under Taein’s direction. 

You don’t know how or when, but you’ll be back. You’ll find another way. You don’t have anything to say to his words, the humiliation still burning across your face, so you turn tail and flee.

You escape out into the cold, winter morning, no closer to your destiny than you were an hour ago. If anything, you’re objectively farther away. Taein knows you now, knows your name and your face and your deepest desire. You don’t let that stop you. You vow to yourself to never let him get the best of you like that again. You’ll be seeing him a lot in the future, you know, because you’ll be in his group. 

By the time you enter the cafè across the street again, you’re bouncing back. You’ve always been resilient. You’re shielded, after all, by the grace of God. The cashier starts to ring up your usual black coffee and cookie order, but you wave it away and spend a little more on a latte instead. As you sip your drink and stare broodingly at the building across the street, your second plan begins to form. If it’s a sasaeng Taein wants, then it’s a sasaeng he’ll get. 

On your way home, you stop at a convenience store and buy a new notebook. You sit on your dorm room bed and think about the days you spent watching the building, the days when Taein was nowhere to be found. He’s a bit of a workaholic, but clearly not enough to spend seven days a week at his workplaces. You, on the other hand, are unemployed enough to spend seven days a week looking into what he does. You copy the dates and times out of your old notebook and try to find a pattern.

He arrives late on Mondays, but you chalk that up to a normal dislike of Mondays. The rest of the weekdays are sporadic. There was a week where Taein missed three days of work in a row. You wonder if it's something else, if it's easily explainable. Maybe he caught a cold. It is winter, after all. You dismiss the thought. He's up to something. You know he is.

The day he misses the most often is Tuesday, from the few weeks you've watched him. In fact, he's never been at work on a Tuesday. You wonder why you never noticed that before.

It's Thursday, which means you have a few days to continue your research. You do a quick search for how much a private investigator costs, and are shocked by the results. It's fine. You can be a private investigator yourself. How hard can it be?

You plug Taein's name into one of those less-than-reputable websites that promise addresses and phone numbers. You're prompted to create an account and pay a small fee. You click through it all without hesitating. A few thousand won now means very little in the great, grand scheme of your idol destiny.

Multiple people with the same name as Taein pop up. You aren't worried, because your Taein is a public figure. That, and you know his age and his wife’s name.

Eventually, one of them fits the bill perfectly. You take a quick break to straighten your posture and ease the stiffness from your spine. You've been sitting here, engrossed in your new plan, for the better part of an hour. 

Your best guess so far is an address in Hongje-dong. You've been lucky in your observation so far. That must mean you're on the right track. You're getting closer and closer with each passing day. Tomorrow you'll close the distance between you and your destiny.

In the morning, you wake up extra early to get to Hongje-dong before Taein leaves. You doubt he takes the subway anywhere, so you rent a bike and make your way to his address. You only lose your balance twice in your first block. It’s early enough in the morning that there’s no one around to see you.

You arrive at the address much faster than you expected. The sun is only barely beginning to creep over the horizon. Then you pause, because Taein lives in a condominium. Every house on the block looks the same. The only differences are the cars parked out front of each one and the numbers on the houses. You stick out here, a young man on a bicycle with nowhere to go. You take one last look at Taein’s home and the car outside—a white Mazda—then wheel yourself around and pedal out.

You repeat the license plate to yourself in your head until you arrive at a convenience store. It’s the only place around that’s open. You buy a bag of chips and take a seat outside, keeping an eye out for Taein. You add the plate number to your notes and try to figure out exactly what kind of car he drives. You have time to spare. You expect him to head to the Zenith Entertainment building today, and he tends to arrive around nine or ten. After you consider traffic, it shouldn’t take him more than half an hour. 

You’re almost certain he drives a 2015 Mazda 3. You head back inside and buy a coffee. Then you take a few moments to think through your plan. Like if Taein drives, then where in the city does he park? Naver Map told you this convenience store was along the quickest route to Sinmunno 2-ga. What if he has a faster route? 

You’re still worrying when Taein’s car speeds by, much faster than the speed limit allows. You jump up from your seat, nearly spilling your coffee. You can’t hold it and ride your bike at the same time, so you hurry to dispose of it and pack up your notes again. You pray Taein is heading to Zenith Entertainment. It’s a little early, but maybe there’s a good reason for that. You set off in the same direction as him, though he’s disappeared from sight.

You make your way to Zenith Entertainment anyway, and by chance, see a white Mazda disappearing into a parking garage down the road from the company building. It’s too far for the garage to be connected to the building, so you lock your bike across the street and wait for him to leave. You lock and unlock the bike lock three times, fiddling with the combination. You strap the helmet to your backpack and lean against the seat and pretend to look at your phone, all the while eyeing the entrance.

Taein never leaves. You look both ways, then cross the street into the depths of the garage. It’s risky, because Taein could see you and recognize you, but you can’t take the chance that he’s gone somewhere else or is doing something else. Your imagination runs wild, thinking of all the illicit activities he might participate in. There are a number of other cars in the lot. The copywriters, you assume.

Then, in a small walkway that must lead to another entrance, you see him, standing with another man. You duck behind a car, and creep closer to the two of them. Taein must be smoking, because the smell of cigarette smoke permeates your hiding spot. 

“You wanted to do more than catch up,” Taein is saying when you can finally hear them.

“I didn’t.” The other man sounds amused.

“We could have met anywhere else. You insisted on this attempt at discretion.”

“It’s about your case,” the other man says. “They want to open it again.”

“I thought you took care of that, Cheolhwan.” Taein sounds guarded. “How much do they want?”

You don’t know what this is about, but you silently take your phone and start to record. 

“Twice what you gave me. This is above my pay grade.”

They’re quiet after that. You peek carefully through the cars to see if they’ve left. They’re still standing there, the ember at the end of Taein’s cigarette the brightest light. You duck down again without getting a better look at Cheolhwan. You wonder if he’s a loan shark or something. Breaking off and starting a company can’t be cheap.

“Alright. The police never liked me much anyway,” Taein says suddenly. You poke your head back up to watch him drop his cigarette butt to the ground and grind it under his shoe.

Cheolhwan snorts. “I can’t imagine why. Planning on begging Jinguk again?”

“I don’t beg. Jinguk-ssi and I are proper business partners.”

That gets a laugh out of Cheolhwan, the short, rough, sound echoing around the garage. 

You stop your video recording, unsure of whatever that was. You doubt it'll be of use in your quest to be an idol, but you decide to hold onto it for now. You hear footsteps begin to recede in the distance, and you wait in your hiding place until they disappear completely. 

All in all, you feel vindicated. There's something suspicious going on with Taein. You're certain you can get to the bottom of it. It's something to do with money. You can find out who Cheolhwan is. Their relationship is uncertain to you. They spoke casually to each other, but there was a degree of aloofness to the entire conversation that you don't know what to make of. Whatever it is, it was more than a simple meeting between friends.

When you’re certain they’re gone, you stand up, stretching out the crick in your neck. You assume Taein will spend the rest of the day at work, and that’s not somewhere you can watch him too closely. You return to your usual haunt across the street instead and make an attempt to catch up on your forgotten coursework. 

It’s a good attempt, but you lose all steam when the high school trainees arrive. You stare daggers at their backs, because they’re in the exact position you want to be in. You watch them order their drinks and slowly sip them, idling the afternoon by. You don't understand why they don't take their positions more seriously. There are so many other people—yourself included—who are dying to be where they are.

But you aren’t them, so you have to settle for envy.

Eventually, they leave, and you watch through the window as they enter the Zenith Entertainment building, still laughing and talking companionably. You aren't jealous. You could build your own close group of friends. You just haven't. But if you really wanted to, you could.

The sun begins to set, and you know you've outstayed your welcome. You haven't bought anything since your single coffee hours ago. The waitstaff give you sidelong looks every now and then, but they don't ask you to leave, so you pretend you don't see them.

You finally see Taein make his long-awaited exit a little earlier than usual. He's walking fast. This time, you’re prepared. As his Mazda 3 emerges from the parking garage, you’re right behind him on your bike. You think he should be heading home, but that's not set in stone, so you decide to follow him. Your intuition pays off when you see him turn not back to Hongje-dong, but somewhere else. At a traffic light, you pause to try and figure out where you are. You've only lived in Seoul for a year and a half, the length of your short-lived university career. The city blocks are still unfamiliar to you. The light turns green, and Taein speeds off. You rush to catch up with him.

You wonder where he could be going, driving so quickly he nearly bowls over a pedestrian. Leave it to him to be so careless. Your opinion of him is souring faster and faster.

He comes to a stop outside of a small, decrepit bar you’ve never heard of before, still driving too quickly as he pulls into the parking lot. You stop, across the street again, trying to figure out where you are. It doesn’t like the type of scene that caters to university students or tired corporate employees. Your mind goes to the worst places. It could be a front for all the worst types of activities—drugs and gambling and prostitution. You record the name in flickering neon lights anyway.

You’re about to leave and try to return during the day when you spot Taein leaving. He’s in the company of a young woman, and so you almost don’t recognize him. She’s wearing a long coat, but the front is open, giving you glimpses of an outfit that isn’t close to being warm enough for the weather. She clings to Taein’s arm like a lifeline, stumbling over the cracks in the sidewalk in her heels. They look like a couple. Your stomach turns. He has a wife.

With shaking hands, you raise your phone and snap another few pictures. You don’t want to see him anymore, so you don’t bother to try and follow them. You almost regret your decision to weasel your way into his life. Instead, you get back onto your bike and head home.

Saturday arrives. You don't spend your weekends at Zenith Entertainment, because you have better things to do. Or had. This morning, you wake up early again to bike back to Taein's home. You spent some time last night wondering just how far you’ll go to reach your destiny. Between that shady conversation you overheard yesterday and the young woman he met up with, you’re almost afraid of what you’ll see him do next. Sometimes you have to do difficult things before you can do great things.

More than that you’re curious about what Taein does on the weekends. Before this, your impression of him was that of a career-driven man with few feelings or even an existence outside of his job. You don’t understand why you have to work for this man, but it isn’t your place to question it.

You cycle around the blocks a few times, and it slowly comes to light in your head.

Taein is clearly the breadwinner between him and his lawfully wedded wife, so you doubt he spends his weekends shopping or cooking or cleaning. You also doubt he’s devout. As hard as you try, you can't even begin to picture him in church. You're almost certain he doesn't have kids. If he does, it's a very closely guarded secret, because it wasn't mentioned once in anything you read about him online. You wonder if maybe he had kids with his previous wife and lost custody of them. Knowing what you know about him now, you don’t find that hard to believe.

The white Mazda 3 sits outside of his condo. A light is on inside the house. You aren’t looking forward to spending a day waiting for Taein to do something. You wonder if you should have forked over the money—your parents’ money—for a private investigator. Then it would be someone else keeping watch on Taein’s house, someone more suited for the job than one young man shivering on a bike.

You think it's weird for you to sit right outside his house, so you take to patrolling the two possible entrances to the street instead. You pedal slowly, heading up and down the street. At the moment, there's nothing you fear more than having him leave without you noticing. You pause to scrutinize the map on your phone to ensure there are no other exits or back roads or possible ways out of his home other than the main street.

Then, eventually, you see his car roll by. You rush after it. He's driving slower than normal. That's when you notice it isn't him in the driver's seat, but his wife. She's the only one in the car. It makes sense, then, that the car is following the posted speed limits. You wonder what Taein is possibly doing alone at home now.

You ride back to his house, just in time to see him step outside and lock the door behind him. You stare, shocked, and have just enough sense to hide behind the condo across the street. His wife left less than five minutes ago. Where are they going, separate and alone?

Taein heads off on foot. You wait until you see him leave. The bike is a bit cumbersome. How could you have predicted that his wife would take the car somewhere and he’d leave on foot? You walk alongside your bike and try to pretend you aren't following him. You ride halfway around the block in boredom before you have to turn around so you don't lose him. You wish he could walk faster.

You check your phone. What's within walking distance of his condominium? The convenience store you sat outside of. A station? He could get anywhere from there.

The streets are too empty for you to follow closer. If he were to turn around, he'd spot you immediately. It stresses you out. You aren't a professional. You really should have hired a private investigator.

To your dismay, he turns into the subway station. You abandon your rental bike right outside, tapping through the app to return it as you continue to follow Taein. There are a few more people here, which makes it easier for you to follow him, and easier for him to lose you.

He's waiting for Line 3 towards Ogeum, the only line that runs through this station. You check the overlapping lines on the map, standing behind him so he doesn't see you. There are too many options for possible transfers: Jongno 3-ga, Euljiro 3-ga, Chumgmuro, Yaksu, Oksu, and on and on and on. You hope he doesn't travel too far. You hope he doesn't get off somewhere and order a taxi. You fill the time by once again trying to imagine what he does for fun on the weekends. For some reason, you can't picture him doing anything. He's the type of person to spend the weekend at the office. You chart the path to Zenith Entertainment from your current location. It’s two stops on the line and then a short walk. It wouldn't surprise you if he stopped there. You don't particularly want to go to Zenith Entertainment again. You're supposed to find something about him that will leave him no choice but to accept you. The woman he met yesterday was a good start. You wonder if he's heading out to see her again. 

As you're lost in your thoughts, the train arrives. You make sure you're in the same car as Taein, though it increases the chances of him noticing you. You'll have to play it off as a coincidence. You rehearse the lines in your head. You'll pretend you don't recognize him. As if you could forget what he looks like. He might not recognize you, you realize. You met him once, for a few minutes. The train picks up speed.

You pass through the first few stops with no incidents. So Taein isn’t going to work. Your interest is piqued.

You're on the train with him for almost forty-five minutes. You watch station after station pass by, the smooth tone of the recorded announcer reciting stop after stop. Taein makes no move to exit at a single one. He stares down at his phone, which lets you stare at him. He doesn't do anything interesting. All he does is scroll through his phone, tap his screen a few times, then stare. He looks like your average salaryman.

He finally gets off in Yangjae. You’re in Gangnam now. You let him leave first. When the doors are about to close, you follow after him. He isn't heading out, but through the station. You follow him to a transfer to the Shinbundang Line. You only know this because you’re spending so much time staring at the map on your phone, it’s starting to become engrained on the backs of your eyelids.

He rides the new subway line for one stop. You both exit at Gangnam Station. You follow him up back into the daylight. It's much more crowded here, locals and tourists alike. 

Taein walks faster. That probably has something to do with the crowds. You hurry after him, thankful you're no longer burdened with your bike.

He heads down a series of twists and turns, alleyways and backroads forming a route Naver Map would never recommend to you. You’re glad it’s the middle of the day. You’d hate to do this at night.

In front of you, Taein heads into a storefront you wouldn’t be caught dead in. This one doesn’t have a name on top of it. You take a picture anyway, then cross-reference your location with the map. There’s still no name. You debate whether or not you should follow him in. From the outside, it’s not the type of place you belong. But Taein could be doing any matter of incriminating activities in there, and that’s what you need to see.

You let your internal debate rage for a few seconds more. Then you cross the street and push the door open.

The room is dimly lit. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they do, you realize a few of the patrons are looking at you. You’re the youngest person in the room. You slide up to the bar and order a drink. God knows you need it.

You take a small sip and grimace immediately. It's obvious people don't come here to drink. You cast a casual glance around the room, looking for Taein. It isn't too crowded. He should be easy to spot---and vice versa, he could easily spot you. You don't see him. Most of the patrons are more engaged with the TV screens in the corner of the room and across the top of the bar. You expect to see sports or the news or something along those lines. You look up to see horses.

It clicks in your head. Horse racing. These people are day drinking and gambling. You belong anywhere else in the world but here. And where is Taein, in this entire mess?

You flag the bartender down.

"Did you see a man come in?" you ask. "Middle-aged, around my height, with an oversized watch? His name’s Lee Taein." You do a bit of your own gambling, placing a bet on Taein being a regular here.

The bartender regards you curiously. "You’re looking for Taein-ssi?”

"He’s my boss," you say. "He told me to meet him here. I was promoted recently. He wanted to celebrate."

The words fall easily from your tongue. It's more of a lie than the truth, but it could be the truth soon enough.

"Congratulations. He invited you here and didn't tell you the password?" The bartender shakes his head. He points into an ever darker recess of the room. "Down the hall. To the left of the bathroom. 8179."

You thank him and leave your drink alone. The left of the bathroom is a door with a keypad above the handle. You type in the passcode, and the lock clicks.

Taein is on the other side of the door. Your destiny is on the other side of the door. You take a deep breath and crack the door open.

You don't know what you expected. It certainly wasn't the opposite of what you experienced upstairs. For a secret room, it's well-lit and almost cozy. There aren’t many people in the room, just a few small groups of four or five people sitting around green, square tables, playing cards. Now, you spot Taein immediately, sitting behind a decently-sized pile of poker chips, the largest pile on his table. One of the people he's playing with the young woman you saw him with last night. She seems your age, maybe a few years older or younger.

You close the door silently behind you. Your skin crawls. You want to get out of here as soon as possible.

There's another bar down here, against the back of the wall. The drinks on the tables look significantly better than they do upstairs. You think about getting another one, just to make it look like you belong here and you fit in.

No one seems to notice your entrance, too engaged in their games. Your luck holds as you slide around to take a few pictures of Taein, holding your phone just in front of you, at waist level. Your fingers shake, but blurry photos are better than no photos. No one else has their phones out, not even resting on the poker tables. It feels illegal for you to do this. In fact, everything about this feels illegal. You make sure to get Taein's full face in the images, and from multiple angles. Then you slip your phone back into your pocket.

That's when you're interrupted.

"You're new here." A hand lands on your shoulder. A few people—not Taein—look up at that, before just as quickly returning to their games. You turn slowly around to see a man twice your size, a bouncer inside the club.

"I was looking for the bathroom," you say, aiming for young, fresh-faced innocence.

"How old are you, kid?"

"Nineteen," you lie. You’re twenty-one. You hate how easily that one comes out. You could have told the truth.

"Good try," the man says, keeping his firm grip on your shoulder as he guides you back to the exit. You take a glance back at Taein. Throughout the entire ordeal, he hasn't looked up once, much too concerned with the cards in his hands. Although it doesn’t look like it, you hope he loses. 

You aren't in the mood to wait in the real bar until Taein emerges, so you leave.

"Leaving already?" the bartender upstairs asks.

You ignore him. It doesn't matter. You're never coming here again.

You head home to see how blurry your pictures are. You think you might already have enough material to force him to give you a position. He's made it scarily easy for you. You didn't even need a private investigator.

You spend the rest of the week following him around anyway. You've grown used to it: the bike rental and Taein's neighborhood and Zenith Entertainment and a variety of bars and hotels across the entire city you know you’ll never step foot in again, and once, another day spent in Gangnam at a shiny skyscraper. Taein arrived at seven in the morning, earlier than he does at Zenith Entertainment, and didn't emerge until nearly eight at night. That was weird, but you had no way of getting into the building, short of breaking in. You had considered pizza delivery, kid of an employee, new employee, and a few other disguises before giving up. After the bouncer encounter, you’re staying clear of security. And that building made its security obvious, what with all the men in navy blue uniforms and earpieces, standing outside every entrance. What were the chances of Taein doing anything illegal or immoral there? Low, you figured, judging by the number of luxury cars dropping passengers off outside.

In your spare time, you try to find anything about Cheolhwan. With only a first name and a tenuous connection to Lee Taein, it’s difficult. You find two Cheolhwans in Taein’s Korea University graduation class. That was decades ago. You doubt either of those are the same man. 

Regardless, you go through with your new plan. Armed with your newly obtained material, you’re ready for your second attempt. You know Taein's schedule now. That means when he arrives at Zenith Entertainment for the day, on a bright, sunny, perfect Wednesday morning, you're standing outside his office.

"You again," Taein says, calm and impassive. "This type of perseverance is seen as obsessive behavior. The answer is no again."

You haven’t even asked your question. You watch him unlock the door to his office.

"Please leave."

You stop him from closing the door with your foot. "I have something you might want to see."

"I don't think so," Taein says. He seems to be in a bad mood. He must have had a bad night last night.

"If you don't want to see it, I think your wife, Jung Eunyoung-ssi, might have an interest in it instead," you say.

That gets his attention. "I don’t see what you’re getting at. I don’t mix business with pleasure."

"Please don't play dumb, Taein-ssi," you say, adapting to each of his evasive attempts. You didn't plan this out. You remember how poorly that went last time. Taein is unpredictable to you. You don't know him nearly well enough to begin to predict any of his responses. "I know you're seeing another woman."

Taein stares at you. "I suppose you should come inside." He sounds extremely reluctant. At the same time, you know this isn't a conversation the two of you should be having in a corridor. You tamp down the sudden flare of excitement in your chest. 

His office looks the same as you remember it. You take a seat in the plastic folding chair with the uneven legs.

"Are you a private investigator? A detective? You’ll find everything in order."

He’s defensive already. You’ve barely said anything. The investigator comment is a bit flattering. You like it.

“Everything except your marriage,” you note.

Taein shrugs. "Divorce is messy. I don't have time for that right now."

You think it's terrible that he divorced his first wife, and seems to be considering divorcing his second wife. You shove the thought aside and bring out your phone, placing it on the table between the two of you. 

“What’s her name?” you ask. “You seem to spend a lot of time with her.”

It's definitely not the strongest statement, but your proof is what's more important. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

"Did Eunyoung hire you?" Taein asks suddenly, ignoring your comment. He's looking at you, instead of the pictures of himself.

"No," you say. "No one hired me."

The two of you look through the album together: Taein and the young woman, arm in arm over and over and over again, in bars and restaurants and hotel lobbies and out on the street in broad daylight.

Then, Taein swipes one photo too far and you’re both presented with a photo of Taein in profile, staring intently at the two playing cards he’s holding. He picks up your phone. "How did you get this?"

He isn’t denying it any longer. You figure it's hard to deny something when the hard, concrete proof is right in front of you.

"I was there," you say.

Taein thinks about it for a second, then nods. "I didn't recognize you then. You were the one Soogeun-ssi removed."

You don't like his choice of words, but you nod anyway. You didn't think he'd noticed you. You thought you were so clever, getting away with everything. You don’t have anything else to say. Your photos speak for you.

"Who paid you?" he asks again, deathly calm. This is uncharted territory. “How much more would I have to pay you?”

“No one paid me anything. I don’t want your money. All I want is to be an idol.”

He shakes his head. “There are easier ways to do that.”

“This is the way I’m doing it. This is the way I want to do it.” This is the way you have to do it.

Taein’s expression is inscrutable. You’ve played your hand. It’s up to him to respond. You wait with bated breath, until he finally says, “I’ll give you a trial period. If you can keep up with everyone else for a month, we can reconsider your position then. If you can’t, then we part ways amicably. No one, least of all Eunyoung, needs to know what you’ve done.”

“I don’t get anything,” you say.

“You get a chance,” Taein snaps. “It’s more than you deserve. Time will tell if this bet pays off.”

You don’t appreciate being compared to a game of roulette. “I might talk to Eunyoung-ssi any time in the future.”

“You might. It won’t make a difference.” He’s oddly calm. It unnerves you.

“Why not?” You have to ask.

“Cheating isn’t illegal. Nor is playing cards in a private setting. Stalking, on the other hand, is.” You can’t do great things from a jail cell, so that keeps you from continuing to argue. 

Taein continues to speak. “For the time being, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to ruin my marriage. The negative press would be disastrous at this time, and divorce proceedings are lengthy. As long as you want to work for me, our fates are tied.”

That’s a sentiment you can support. You nod slowly. Something like a smile takes its place on Taein's face. “You can come by on Monday. The other trainees know it's too late for me to accept anyone new. Tell them you've been confirmed to debut.”

On your first day, you take the elevator up to the third floor. It opens to a floor much different from the fourth. The left side is the same: a door with a glass window, expanding all the way down as far as you can see. The right side leads into an open office, with cubicles arranged in small groups of fours and fives. There are even a few people sitting amongst the desks. That isn't your place, so you ignore them and push open the door to the left. 

There's one person in the room, a teenage boy sitting down on the floor and stretching. He looks up at you when you enter with sharp, calculating eyes. You recognize him for your days in the cafè—Mingeun. He doesn’t seem to recognize you. He rises to his feet, moving with a grace unfit for his age, like he’s so perfectly comfortable in his body despite being in his awkward teenage years. You were nothing like him when you were his age a few years ago.

“I’m Haksu,” you say. “I’m new here.” You smile at him, something you think is befitting of an idol, but he doesn’t return it. If anything, his neutral expression grows frosty.

“Mingeun,” he says stiffly. “Taein-nim promised there wouldn’t be any more new people. Where are you from? JYP? YG?”

He sounds whiny and childish. You’re unimpressed.

“Gunsan,” you try, though you know that’s not what he means.

Mingeun scowls. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

You’re about to respond, to tell him you’re not from anywhere in the way he means, when the door flies open. You recognize both of the two new arrivals—one is the tall foreigner you’ve seen in the cafè, and the other is the young man you’ve seen following Taein—his assistant, presumably.

“Mingeun!” Taein’s assistant scolds. “Stop harassing the new guy.”

“I wasn’t harassing him,” Mingeun shoots back. “We’re going to be good friends. Right, Haksu-ssi?”

The look he gives you clearly says to play along. You don’t know if you’re going to be good friends, but you nod along anyway. Their conversation continues like you aren’t even there.

“We were just getting to what company he trained at,” Mingeun says. “Then we were going to talk about why Taein-nim thought he should join us.”

Taein’s assistant winces. “You won’t like either of those answers.”

“Another SM reject? I can handle it. I’m over it.”

Taein’s assistant ignores Mingeun and turns to you instead. He holds his hand out, Western-style, and says, “I’m Jaeseop. I’m so sorry about Mingeun. We''—he gestures to himself and the cafè foreigner—”were supposed to be the first ones to meet you. Sam—Taein-nim—held us up. Oh, and that’s Andrew.”

Your first impression of him is that he’s frazzled and all over the place. You imagine being Taein’s assistant is a difficult job. Behind him, Mingeun folds his arms, clearly upset about being excluded from the conversation. 

You grasp his hand. “Haksu.”

“I know,” Jaeseop says, suddenly looking like he’d rather be anywhere but in front of you. “Taein-nim told me about you.”

You wonder how much Taein told him. You don’t think he’d tell his assistant everything. It’s supposed to be a secret between the two of you.

“How many—” You hesitate in the middle of your sentence. Of you? Of us? How long until you're one of them? “—other trainees are there?”

“Seven,” Jaeseop says. “With you, there's eight.”

“If you're expecting monthly evaluations and competing against fifty other trainees, we're past that,” Mingeun cuts in.

“We’re the debut team. We’re all that's left,” Andrew adds.

The three of them seem so in-sync with one another, like parts of a perfect, well-oiled machine. You're the loose cog, the piece of scrap metal carelessly tossed inside, with all the potential of breaking the machine into pieces. And how does Taein's assistant fit into all of this? He seems close to Andrew and Mingeun, closer than an assistant to the CEO should be.

“When will I meet everyone else?” you ask, just to change the subject.

Jaeseop, with all the mental fortitude of an overworked assistant, takes a deep breath and begins to rattle off a list of names and short descriptions and times, most of which fly right over your head. “Intak will be here around lunchtime, after his classes end. Byeonghwi and Eunsu come by after school in the mid-afternoon. Kiyoung-hyung keeps saying he'll quit his job, but he hasn't, so he won't be here until the evening.”

Andrew picks up on your obvious cluelessness, and simplifies it down to, “Intak will be here soon. He'll be extremely bad at small talk. Don't mention it to him.”

You don't know where that came from, but you nod along anyway. These are going to be your group members. You need to get along with them. 

“Don't talk about League either,” Mingeun adds suddenly. You didn't realize he was still part of the conversation. “Unless you're also an SKT fan upset about their loss. He's really into that. You don't seem like a gamer.”

“I play a bit,” you say diplomatically, because you do. You were a teenage boy at one point, and there was no way for you to survive those years without playing League of Legends at least once.

“We all have sensitive topics, “ Jaeseop says as way of explanation. “Things we don't want to talk about and therefore try to avoid unless there's no other way around it. Mingeun, yours are?”

With a sigh, Mingeun dutifully says, “SM Entertainment. All you need to know is that I used to be a trainee there. And my mom. You don't need to know anything about her.”

Jaeseop keeps saying “we.” If you hadn’t seen him so many times with Taein, you’d take him for another trainee. You want to ask what his role really is, but you know you can't, because it'll betray you. It's harder than you expected to act like you know nothing about them. You'll have to be careful to not slip up. 

He turns his full attention to you, and asks, “Got anything?”

This is the last thing you expected from your first day as an idol. Your first item comes quickly. “How I joined Zenith Entertainment.”

You know you'll have to tell them eventually, but for now, you want to get along with everyone. Mingeun looks like he wants to ask you anyway, consequences be damned.

Andrew dismisses him before he can speak. “Byeonghwi asked for the same.”

“He asked us not to ask him why,” Jaeseop corrects. “He got in through the audition.”

Mingeun attacks like a shark smelling blood in the water. “Why’d you do it?”

You could tell them that, you suppose, but something holds you back. You want to be certain you can achieve your destiny before you start shouting it to the world. “I don't want to discuss that either,” you say instead. It's the only way out of it you can see, so you take it.

“Can we talk, hyung?” Mingeun asks, turning to Jaeseop. “Privately?”

You know you'd be the subject of their conversation. You can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. You like the attention, but in this context, it seems bad. You want to get along with Mingeun, but it's clear he has little intention of getting along with you.

“No.” Jaeseop's response is firm, and you like him a little more for that. “You can tell me in front of Haksu-ssi.”

Mingeun falls silent, clearly unwilling to say whatever he wanted to say a few minutes ago.

“Great. Anything else?”

You do have a few other ideas in mind, but you've already chosen two major ones and you're afraid to rock the boat, so you shake your head.

On the wall behind him, you notice, for the first time, a schedule created out of a bunch of individual pieces of paper taped together. You skim over it. It’s overwhelming. There are classes on three out of the seven days, scheduled back to back to back: dance lessons and vocal lessons and rap lessons and media training and a short section on how to walk and more dance lessons. It's overwhelming. You're thankful to see that Sundays are, blessedly, left empty.

Jaeseop follows your gaze. “It’s a lot to take in at first,” he says sympathetically. “You’ll get used to it.”

You will, because you have no other choice. Your options are to adjust, or to give up and forfeit your spot and your destiny. The latter isn’t even in the realm of possibility. You’ll adjust and you’ll succeed, because you have to.

Then it's noon, and Intak arrives. You remind yourself: no comments on his social skills and nothing about League of Legends. He shows up with nothing but a laptop bag slung over one shoulder and a can of Red Bull. He looks over you with a disinterested gaze, asks, “Another one?”, chugs his Red Bull, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he and Andrew disappear out of the practice room to wherever else they go. 

Mingeun leaves shortly after the two of them. You know he's going to the cafè to wait for the two high schoolers, but you don't say that out loud. You watch him leave, and then you're left alone with Jaeseop, the two of you sitting on the floor. 

“If I ask about how or why you became a trainee, can you give me an answer?” Jaeseop asks.

“No,” you answer, because you can't.

“Do you have any relation to the Danyoung Group?” is his next question.

“No,” you say again, unsure what a chaebol who built and now owns three-quarters of the buildings in Seoul has to do with you. “I’m from Gunsan.”

He stares at you like he doesn't believe you. You meet his gaze until he looks away. 

He sighs. “I’ll take you on a tour. You haven’t seen everything yet, have you?”

The question appears much more rhetorical than literal, so you follow him out of the room. 

“The floor used to be all office space,” Jaeseop says, walking backwards as if he’s a professional tour guide. “This half hasn’t been converted yet.” He gestures to the messy sprawl of cubicles. To your surprise, that’s where Andrew and Intak are, two chairs in the same cubicle, though it looks like Intak is the only one working. 

Jaeseop avoids them and makes a beeline for the other side of the space. It’s emptier than you had thought at first glance. He introduces you to a middle-aged man, sitting at a desk, surrounded with a tidy assortment of trinkets and knick-knacks and framed photographs. It’s the polar opposite of Taein’s office.

“This is Sanghyun-nim,” he says. “He’s Taein-nim’s right-hand man. He does all the unpleasant tasks Taein-nim doesn’t want to do.”

That doesn’t seem conducive to your image of Taein. You’ve seen him do a few unpleasant tasks. You suppose those weren’t necessary for his job.

“The menial ones,” Sanghyun corrects. “You’re the new recruit. Kang Haksu-ssi.”

“That’s me,” you say, surprised by the way he recognizes you. You wonder how much Taein told everyone else, what kind of story he fed them. You doubt it was the truth. You hope you can trust him. If you can’t, it’s a little too late for that.

He seems like he could have an entire conversation with you, but Jaeseop whisks you away. “Hyekyung,” he says, of a young woman around your age, with a phone tucked on her shoulder, taking notes with her other hand. She waves in your general direction.

“Social media and marketing,” Jaeseop explains. “I wouldn’t get on her bad side. She’s really the one in charge of this entire area.”

He stops in his tracks and points across the room. You tiptoe to see what he’s trying to point out to you. A woman who looks like she should be a floor below them with the copywriters sits alone at a desk, a wide berth between her and anyone else.

 “Gyeongwon,” Jaeseop says, voice dropped to a whisper. “She doesn’t work here, but she works with Taein-nim. I wouldn’t upset her either.”

He moves on, taking quick strides across the floor to the side opposite the elevator. “The stairwell is here. Goes from the first floor up to the rooftop.”

You think he’s going to take you up the stairs—to the rooftop, maybe—but he stops. “The fourth floor is only Taein-nim’s office for now. I assume you’ve been there. The fifth floor is empty. The elevator doesn’t go up there. If you do ever go up to the rooftop, the door is always stuck.”

You try to follow along, completely overwhelmed with the amount of new names and faces and information you’re expected to now know.

Jaeseop checks the time on his phone. “Mingeun should be back by now.”

You don't have much praise for Jaeseop's tour. This time, when you open the practice room door, Mingeun is pacing. The conversation stops abruptly as you enter. Eunsu and Byeonghwi, you remember, though you can’t remember who’s who. 

Jaeseop comes to your accidental rescue. “Eunsu.” He points out the boy in the mustard-yellow uniform. “And Byeonghwi.”

Byeonghwi gives you a smile and a wave, and you’re immediately struck by how he seems genuinely happy to meet you, as if he was destined to be an idol, forever pretending and playing along with people slipping in and out of his life. Like you, you have to remind yourself. It’s a sharp contrast from the way everyone else has behaved around you. High school students are supposed to be annoying and immature, not better than you at your own fate. You try not to let it get to you.

Not long after their arrival, Intak and Andrew make their re-entrance. Andrew is in a different outfit, the type of corporate wear you’ve seen him leave in. You see your opportunity, so you take it. 

“You changed,” you observe.

“Work,” he says. “I teach English at a hagwon.”

You wonder if he’s qualified to do that, and then if the parents of the students he teaches know that their teacher is focused on being an idol and not on teaching. You should have guessed. What else could he do? 

You watch him leave. Almost as soon as the door shuts softly behind him, Intak pulls Intak to the side and speaks softly. You strain your ears to overhear, though you're drawn into Eunsu and Mingeun and Byeonghwi’s inane conversation. 

"I can't work with him," Intak is saying.

"I know," comes Jaeseop's reply. "You have to try."

"I am trying," Intak hisses. "He's the one who doesn't want to try. He thinks he can do it all by himself. He refuses to show me anything he's working on. He’s impossible."

"I know," Jaeseop says again. He says something else, but you don’t hear it, because Byeonghwi is asking you how and why you joined the company, and you have to tell him that’s not something you’re ready to talk about yet.

You watch the sun start to set out of the windows overlooking the street. They're open, but they face the wrong way and let no air in. You want to go home. Jaeseop steps out to pick up dinner. No one makes a move to leave, so you don't either.

When the sun is fully down, you meet Kiyoung. He arrives looking a bit too much like a copywriter as well. You would have mistaken him for one, had the reception to his entrance not been perfectly warm and friendly.

You learn a few more facts in rapid-fire fashion. He's the oldest of the team. He works for an environmental non-profit organization, and is refusing to quit until he finishes his current project. Before he was a Zenith Entertainment trainee, he was a trainee at another small company that went under before he could debut. He met Jaeseop when they were both in middle school and their schools double-booked the same trip location.

You exchange a few more pleasantries, and then the mood of the room shifts more towards homework than anything else, because everyone—with the exceptions of Kiyoung and Intak—are still in school. It surprises you to learn that Jaeseop is a student.

“This is my last semester,” he explains when you ask. “I don’t go to class much anymore. I’ll graduate just fine.”

You’re beginning to feel like the odd one out, so you continue your hopeless quest to catch up on all your work. You probably aren’t going to graduate. You probably aren’t even going to finish this semester.

Andrew returns later in the night, and that, for some reason, signals the end of the day. Eunsu is pressed to the glass, announcing his imminent arrival before he even steps foot in the building. Andrew’s single action upon returning to the third floor is to pick up Byeonghwi, who seems only too enthusiastic to leave. After that, it’s a free-for-all bordering on a bloodbath. You wait, because you’re new, and it’d be rude of you to be one of the first to leave.

Then it’s you and Jaeseop and Mingeun, nearly a mirror image of the morning. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Jaeseop says to you, and then in almost the same breath, “Make sure you go home, Mingeun.”

Mingeun scowls.

You nod, though you’re almost dead on your feet. You think being a private investigator might be a little easier. You aren’t sure how, but you’ll survive it. You have to. It’s the only way you can do great things.