#also her mom was like oh maybe! that white thing poking out of her gum MIGHT be a tooth - we’ll have to ask yiayia the dentist’

[ginalinettiofficial]

BABY I HAS A TOOTH !!!!!

[peterthepark]

Cold as Ice

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: Billy just doesn’t understand why you’re so cold to him. He becomes desperate to warm you up. But, the killer heat of Hawkins combined with a stupid school project gives him the chance to know what’s truly underneath all that ice.

Warnings: cursing, smut, sExUal tenSion, some angst, some fluff, LOTS OF SIN

A/N: Definitely my filthiest fic at the moment, enjoy!

“You’re my partner.”

You look up from the register, hands on your hips as you stare at Billy Hargrove with a blank, unamused expression. There are a few people behind him, arms crossed against their chests - Tommy, Carol, and some other bimbo.

Funnily, you realize that they all resemble a group of poodles.

Cute.

Billy raises his eyebrows at you, smacking his gum as he impatiently awaits for a response. You glance at the folder that he slaps down onto the counter, knowing exactly what it contains.

“Hm, didn’t think you guys were recruiting for the next douchebag of Hawkins High. Are these the applications?” You finally pick up the folder, skimming through the thick pages of paper with a toothy smirk. “To be honest, I consider myself more of a bitch than a douchebag. Isn’t that right, Harrington?”

You chuckle devilishly as you hand Steve a couple dollars, who snickers at the interaction. Billy seems confused, but by the way he clenches his jaw and barely blinks, you can tell you’ve also hit a spot.

“Looks like I’ve won the bet, Y/N. Fuck, yeah! Robin! I told you I would win!” Steve runs into the back room of Scoops Ahoy, waving the dollar bills at his friend.

You turn back to Billy, re-adjusting the hat on your head. “Now, can I get you something, pool boy?” You lean over, hands splayed onto the cool marble of the counter.

“Did you not pick up on what I just said? I’m asking you to be my partner for the project. No, I’m picking you to be my partner.” Billy tries to keep a steady voice, but you easily catch the deep breath he takes between his words. His ‘friends’ are whispering behind him, exchanging dirty looks.

“Well, I’m actually not allowed to have personal conversations with customers right now,” Billy scoffs, tugging his lip between his teeth. “And so, if you aren’t ordering ice cream, then be my guest, and leave. I’ve got a few angry customers to deal with if you can’t tell.” He follows your pointed gaze, and surely enough, the line behind him is fairly long - filled with crying kids and irritated parents. “Come back later? Or never at all?”

Billy groans, pacing in short steps. He knows you’ll come around. They always come around.

You truly are a bitch.

Yet, somehow, Billy waits till the end of your shift to speak with you - hopefully in a more private spot and in a less aggressive manner.

You roll your eyes when you see him, sitting by the table nearest to the register. He seems to be alone, yet it annoys you even more.

“I don’t wanna be your partner, Hargrove. Is that not clear?” Your eyes follow him as he stands up. He’s much taller than you, so you can only send him an intimidating glare in hopes of scaring him away. “Pick someone else. And let me give you a hint - it’s not me.”

Billy inhales deeply, before a small smile forms on his face. He grabs your arm before you can walk away, hoping that he can win you over with his charm. But he knows he has to put away his pride to do so.

“Sweetheart, I really need help with this project. You’re the smartest girl in our class, and if you can’t tell, I hang around a bunch of dumbasses.”

Oh, so this is why he was alone. So he could talk crap about his shitty friends.

Billy continues, smile never wavering. He still has his hand wrapped around your arm, holding you in place as he speaks by your ear. “And anyways, it’s already set in stone. I asked Mrs. Johnson if I could pair up with you. She thought it was a great idea. Guess we’re in this together now, huh?”

He harshly pushes the folder of papers into your chest, letting go of your arm.

“What? You can’t do that!”

But he certainly did do that. Because when you storm into Mrs. Johnson’s classroom on one Monday morning, she’s rambling over how excited she is to have you and Billy working together.

“But Mrs. Johnson, I never agreed to this. How is this fair?” You whine, waving the folder around with wide eyes.

“Miss Y/N, you’ll be doing Billy a huge favor by helping him. He isn’t failing, but he is struggling. He could most definitely use your help.”

Despite all the complaining, Mrs. Johnson doesn’t allow you to pick anyone else. To her convenience, you and Billy are the only ones who haven’t had a designated partner - and now, you really don’t have a choice.

-

The next week, Billy is back in Scoops Ahoy. He can see your snarl from the other side of the mall. He’s got you trapped in cage, and he knows you’re having a hard time trying to adapt to it.

“I knew that he’d pick you.” Steve says through a mouthful of banana, hitting you in the face with its peel. “I mean, you’re the only girl - besides Robin - who hasn’t given into him. He’s probably just trying to cross off your name on his list.”

“He has a list?” You gag dramatically, protesting as Robin pushes you jokingly.

“Dude, Y/N, he’s literally coming over here.” She points at Billy, who actually is coming over.

“I don’t care. Change spots with me. Steve! Robin!” You shout, pulling at the ends of your hair as they run into the back room, locking the door behind them. “Screw you both!”

You turn around, meeting eyes with the damned Billy Hargrove. You fake a smile. If this was a cartoon, steam would certainly be coming out from your ears.

“Bad day?” Billy pouts mockingly at you. His hands rest inside the pockets of his jeans, eyes looking over your angry state. “Should I come back or....”

“Actually, no. But you know what?” You slide yourself over the counter, brushing away at the lint that has accumulated on your blue shorts. “I’m not doing this stupid project alone. You’re staying here till my shift is over. And when it is, you’re gonna drive your ass to my house, where the both of us can work on it. Together. Happy now, douchebag?”

Your breath is almost minty, and somehow feels cool against Billy’s skin. He steps back with a cocky grin, raising his hands as if he were surrending to you.

But he wasn’t surrendering.

“You just gave Team Hargrove one point. But Team Y/L/N? Zero.” Billy snaps with a flash of his pearly whites. He crouches down to your height, hands resting on his thighs. He knows that he is pissing you off. “I’ll see you when you’re done.” Then, you cross your arms at him, nose pointing up as he stands to full height. His eyes flicker down to your lips. “And honestly? I think I’m more of a dick than a douchebag.”

You want to slap the stupid grin of his face. But you don’t. You don’t know the real reason behind it, but you try to convince yourself as to why.

Because it’s against company policy?

Steve and Robin poke their heads out of the other room, coming out when Billy cockily walks away from you. You’re still standing there, eyes narrowed and face drawn into a look of displeasure.

“Should we not bother her?” Steve whispers, elbowing Robin. “I kinda don’t wanna get yelled at right now.”

“No, no, Steve. She’s hotter when she’s angry. Trust me.”

“Guys!” You scoff at them. She laughs at the sudden smile on your face, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I mean, she’s not wrong, Y/N.” Steve shrugs before taking your place at the register. “You’re pretty hot, I guess.”

“Oh, stop it, Harrington. I’m out of your league.” You wink at him, hopping back over the counter.

You let out an exasperated breath when Robin tells you to sort out the shipments in the back. You push the back door open, groaning audibly when you see the tall stack of cardboard boxes. There’s a clipboard on the table in the middle of the room, and you read over it lazily before you begin to sort through the deliveries.

No one really knows why you despise Billy. Not Steve, not Robin, not anyone. It seems as if you had woke up, saw him, and decided that he was someone you disliked.

That was partly true.

But in detail, you did dislike - or hate, whichever was fitting based on your mood - Billy for a few things.

You never understood his sudden popularity, or the sex appeal he carried along with him. You never understood the hair, the smoking, the people he hung around, or the recklessness and the partying.

You just didn’t get it. You didn’t get why people would waste their time around him, when clearly, he wasn’t grateful for any of it.

Maybe your hatred of him spiraled from insecurity.

He had everything. He was popular and easy on the eyes. He was charming and fun. You’d never admit it out loud, but he truly seemed like a good guy, underneath that whole douchebag act of his.

You were nothing alike. Or so you thought.

-

“Honey! There’s someone here for you!” Your mother calls out from the bottom of the stairs, a slight smirk on her face when she realizes how handsome your guest is. You come barreling down the stairs, feet heavy and frowning deeply when you see who’s sitting on the sofa.

“Billy.”

“Y/N!” He comes to meet you, pulling you into an embrace. Your reaction is one of utter shock, because suddenly, all you can smell is expensive cologne and the faint scent of cigarettes. “Your mother was just asking me if we wanted to join her for lunch.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you, but we have to work on a project, Mom.” You send Billy a look, clearing your throat when you see his lips twitch upwards. “We’ll be upstairs.”

Your mom disappears into the living room, giving you both a second glance and a knowing look as you jog up the stairs.

“How do you know where I live?”

“That little girl from the mall? I think she’s Sinclair’s sister. Bought her some ice cream when I saw it fall, she just returned the favor.”

Erica. Damn it.

“Okay, well, I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” You complain, running your hands through your hair, damp from a shower. Billy follows you into your bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He takes in the sight, something he wouldn’t expect from someone like you. There are various posters plastered onto your soft pink walls - band posters, movie posters, and he huffs at the one of a shirtless man. There’s a record player on top of your bookcase, where you stand, occupied as you flip through your vinyls. “What’s your cup of tea? Queen? The Beatles? Metallica? Foreigner?”

“I really don’t care.” He scoffs, licking his lips as he takes a seat on your bed.

Foreigner it is, then.

“And I really don’t want you on my bed. Get off, Hargrove.” You throw a paper ball at him, hiding the smile on your face when he doesn’t dodge it in time. “Thought you played basketball. What happened to those reflexes?”

With a dramatic eye roll, Billy tosses the ball into the trash, sliding off of the bed and onto the floor instead. You grab the project folder from your study table, sitting down across from him. You’re reading through the directions when Billy starts to light a cigarette.

And you gasp - really loud. “Billy! No! None of that in here.” You take the cigarette from his lips, his coughs fading in the background as you throw it out your window. “Are you crazy?”

“I just wanted a smoke!”

“Yeah?! Then not in here!” You shake your head at him, handing him a sheet of paper as you calm down. “Your turn to read, asshole.”

Your head begins to become fuzzy as Billy’s fingers brush against yours when he grabs the paper.

He reads, voice soft and surprisingly enthusiastic - if he didn’t act like such a dumbass, you’d think he was somewhat intelligent.

(However, you know he is intelligent - somewhere in that douchebag brain of his - though, that’s one of the things you could never admit to anyone).

The room is suddenly blazing hot, uncomfortably warm despite the numerous open windows. The air conditioning isn’t enough, and you’re silently cursing as you feel sweat build up among your skin. You’re fanning yourself, swallowing as you notice the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of Billy’s forehead.

“God damn, it’s hot.” Billy curses, unable to continue reading with how tight his chest feels. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping he could get some sort of air.

“Our air conditioning sucks.” You push your hair back, “Summer’s coming.”

Billy nods in agreement, picking up from where he had left off.

Maybe it’s just the heat, but suddenly, you start to space out.

Your eyes focus on the rise and fall of Billy’s tan chest, how his skin glows with sweat, and how his muscles flex under that shirt of his.

Oh, wow.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” You snap out of your trance. “Hope you haven’t passed out.” He sets the paper down, leaning back against your bed frame.

“Huh? Sorry, I - I was distracted.”

Don’t let your guard down.

“I was asking which part you wanted to do.”

“Uh, whichever one is the hardest. I can take it.”

And Billy stops breathing. Maybe because there’s some sort of - sexual - euphemism in that sentence, but also because he’s noticing how flushed you look: cheeks red, skin glistening, breaths heavy. Your hair sticks to your arms, resting on the tops of your knees. But then, he sees this look in your eyes.

It’s not the normal glare he gets. But your eyes are softer, less intense, more - was that longing?

You’re just staring at him, lips slightly parted as your eyes quickly drop down to the floor.

“Unless, um, you want the harder part then you can have it, I guess.” You pipe up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You’re avoiding his gaze, and Billy isn’t sure that he recognizes this Y/N.

Did he win you over yet? That easily?

“Here, you can look over it with me again.” Billy scoots beside you, his denim-clad thigh pressed up against your bare one. His breaths are even, blowing over your hands as you hold up the paper. “I was thinking I could do the research on the biographical context and symbolism, and...” He glances over to you, eyes trailing over the expanse of your neck. Your jaw is tightly clenched, but you don’t meet his stare. “... and then, maybe you could do the overall analysis. Or we could do it differently, if this way doesn’t meet your standards, princess.” His voice is low, a sultry tone laced subtly in his words. He peeks his tongue out to lick his lips, and you look over at that exact moment.

Aw, shit. You wouldn’t give up that easily, would you?

He’s not the only one that can play this game.

“No, I like your idea. We can do that.” You turn to him, hair slightly hitting him in the face. You pucker your bottom lip slightly, rolling it between your teeth as you pass him the paper back.

“Is it getting hot in here?”

Not this line.

“Nope, just you.” You let out a sharp exhale, reading over more of the project.

“Whew. I gotta take off my shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, causing you to drop your pencil. But it’s too late once Billy is pulling his shirt over his head. “Hey!”

Though, he wears a tank top underneath.

And honestly, you’re kind of disappointed.

Wait, what?

He hurls the shirt towards your bed, running his hands through his messy curls. His arms look even bigger, and you can see the faint outline of his abs through the thin, white material. You catch the tattoo on his upper bicep, and you have to put a hand to your mouth from saying anything - now this was ruining you.

Don’t give in.

“Like what you see, Y/L/N?” He flexes his arms in a subtle manner, biting down harshly on his lip. He grunts as he leans over to pick up your pencil, handing it to you. “Didn’t mean to make you drop this.”

Yeah. Apology accepted. Jerk.

“If this is your way of seducing me, it isn’t working.” You cross your ankles over each other, shaking your head at Billy.

He laughs, running his hand through his hair. “And why would I want to seduce you, Y/N?”

The question does sting, but it doesn’t change the fact that his face is literally inches away from yours.

You aren’t done playing the game.

“Oh, I don’t know, Billy. Maybe because I’m the only girl on that - that list of yours that you haven’t yet crossed out? Or is it because you’ve fucked all the pretty girls at school and you’ve finally come to the realization that you’d rather fuck someone with a bit of brains?”

Billy hums with a slow, antagonistic nod, tongue poking out from the corner of his lips. He abruptly stands up, turning up the volume on your record player. He’s dancing. But the bitter look on his face is all you can focus on. You stand up as well, pouting as you lower the volume of the music. It’s a back and forth between you, Billy, and the music.

“The problem with pretty girls, Y/N...” He starts between breaths, still dancing as you stand ahead of him - not happy. “... is that they can’t tell when a guy is no longer interested in them. They got the looks, but no brain.” He chuckles, parting his lips as he taps the side of his head. “And the girls that do have brains? They also got a problem. They’re smart, sure, but they just don’t know when to quit being a bitch.”

That’s when he turns up the music to full volume, hooting in your face as he dances even more.

This was Billy Hargrove at his finest.

“We’re never gonna get this project done if you keep thinking with your dick instead of your head, asshole.” You almost growl. You’re fuming now.

He really knows how to piss a girl off, huh?

“You ever had a boyfriend, Y/N?”

No. Never.

“Yeah, I have. Why?” You gulp, pushing past Billy. You sit down on your bed, continuing on writing your analysis for the project.

“What was his name?”

“Uh - It was - It’s Steve.”

What are you doing?

“You dated Harrington? King Steve?” He slowly stops dancing, panting loudly as he looks down at you.

“Dating him, actually.”

Oh, God.

“Huh. You ever had sex with him?”

“Hargrove, this is getting a little personal.” You chuckle nervously.

“Is that a... no?” He crouches down in front of you, eyes blinking at you. He’s catching on. Surely, you weren’t this good of a liar. “I’ll take that as a no. Must suck, yeah? Harrington doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Poor Y/N. You just want a little lovin’ from King Steve...”

His thumb hooks itself under your chin.

And his blue eyes are almost hypnotizing.

“Are you really dating Steve Harrington? ‘Cause you seem a lot out of his league. You’re not even in the ballpark, baby.”

His big hand cups your jaw, fingers rubbing against your skin. Somehow, his hands are freezing - despite the hundred degree weather.

“I have a... boyfriend.”

Billy knows you’re lying now.

“Why are you so cold to me, Y/N?” His eyes are fixed on your lips, flickering up to you when you speak.

“I don’t know. Why are you such a douchebag?”

“Sure. I’m a dick, but you - you’re somethin’ else. You are mean. Steve seems a little soft for someone as headstrong as you.” He shrugs animatedly, “Maybe you’re looking for a - a... thrill.”

“What do you want from me?” You scoff at him.

“I think I know why you hate me.” You hold your breath as he continues, “We’re more alike than you think we are.”

“Yeah? I’d like to hear it, then.”

Deathmatch.

“We both crave something more. Most people go after someone with a little... heat to their name, but us? We thrive in the cold.”

“You’re wrong.” You shake your head at him.

“Then why am I still touching you?” He stands, hands leaving your jaw.

No, come back.

“Billy, this - this isn’t-“

“Surely, your boyfriend wouldn’t like the way I was touching you, wouldn’t he? What’s Steve gonna do if he finds out? Fight me?”

“Steve’s not my boyfriend! Fine! You win!” You explode, rising to your feet.

And it all comes rushing back to you.

You both really are alike.

“You see it now, don’t you? All this competing, this - this fighting, we clash because we’re the same. And it scares you. Because who would’ve thought you had something in common with the douchebag from school, huh?”

He takes a step closer to you. And you do the same to him.

“Smart girls need attention, too.” He says softly, leaning in to whisper at your ear. “But you... you’ve been looking for someone who’s as cold as you. And I respect that, Y/N.”

You make the mistake of locking eyes with him when he pulls back.

“I’m way out of Steve’s league.”

You look down at his plump lips, glancing at how his neck bobs when he pushes your hair behind your shoulder.

There’s an unfamiliar feeling that sparks in your chest when Billy’s fingers trail past your collarbone.

“Can I kiss you now? Because all this tension might give me high blood pressure.” He smirks at you.

You don’t reply.

But you do lean forward, on the tips of your toes, mashing your lips against Billy’s. Your hands are cool against his shimmering skin.

The kiss isn’t sweet, but fueled with fire and pent-up anger. Billy is fast enough to show you that he really wants you, but at the same time, he’s slow, wanting to prove to you that you aren’t just another name on his so-called ‘list.’

You don’t give a shit about winning anymore.

Stubble tickles your cheeks as Billy moves to kiss your neck.

“This doesn’t... this doesn’t change the fact that I still hate you...” You breathe raggedly, screwing your eyes shut at how his mouth feels on your neck.

He tugs at the straps of your tank top, pulling it over your head as he hoists you up into his arms. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you can feel the tightness form in his jeans.

“God, you’ve been such a bitch to me for the past week.” He moans into your skin, pressing you up against your bedroom door as he uses one hand to hold you, and the other to unclasp your bra. You let out a choked moan, only for Billy to place his hand over your mouth. “Don’t forget that your mama is downstairs. What would she think if she saw me doing this to her daughter?”

You bite at his hand, smiling as he groans pleasurably at the sensation.

He’s so rough, but you’re enjoying it.

Billy swivels on the heels of his shoes, laying you down onto your bed as he kisses down your torso. His saliva sticks to your skin, and he chuckles when he watches you arch your back into him. Your hand reaches for his, and he doesn’t pull away - despite how intimate the action is for him.

Billy Hargrove doesn’t hold hands with flings.

That’s how he really knows you aren’t one of them.

“B-Billy...” You gasp as his lips pass over your breasts, his hands cupping and kneading them softly.

He reaches up to kiss you again, whispering, “This isn’t your first time, right?”

You shake your head, “No, no.”

“Okay.” He nods with a grin, taking off his top. “But no one is ever gonna make you feel this good.”

He groans as you crawl to the edge of the bed, playing with him through his jeans. You glance up at him innocently, his fingers card through your hair. You leave short kisses on his abs, slowly making your way up to his neck. You suck and lick at it, surely leaving a prominent mark there. He pulls out his belt, flinging it onto the floor as you unbutton his jeans for him.

He licks his lips, pushing you back down onto the bed. You scoot over, making room for him as he takes off your shorts. You chuckle when he moans at the sight of lace.

“Didn’t know you were wearing those.” He says, obviously surprised as he wraps his fingers around the waistband, letting it snap against your skin. You gasp, letting his hands wander over your back.

“Just be glad I’m letting you see them.”

He flips you over so that you’re on your knees, ass in his face as he pulls the lace panties past your ankles.

You bite back a loud moan. His face and his mouth is down there and you swear you’ve entered heaven itself.

Hell was too hot for the both of you, anyways.

He hums against you, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge as he toys with you in places you didn’t even know existed. He pulls away, causing you to whimper.

But as you look back at him, the sight is enough to make you cum. His boxers are nowhere to be seen, and instead, he’s touching himself, grinning as he sees the dumbfounded expression on your face.

“You’re okay with this?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You’re shaking your head. “I need to hear it out loud.” He kisses your lower back, hands caressing your ass.

“Yes. Please.”

“Condom?”

You wink, rubbing yourself against him. “On the pill.”

Billy lets out a moan, chuckling. “Mm, that’s my girl.”

You hold back a breath as he pushes himself into you. He’s huge, and it stings with how much he’s stretching you out. You let out a sob of pleasure, hand coming to touch Billy’s upper thigh.

“Slow?” He asks, voice gruff as he bottoms out. You’re sure that he’s as deep as possible, but part of you longs for him to go even deeper.

“No, fast.”

Billy pulls out, only to slam back in. His movements are quick, hips thrusting at a rapid pace. You’re moaning, falling into the mattress with how good he feels inside you.

“Holy fuck!” He grunts as he leans over you, hand coming to rest by your face. He outstretches his fingers, and you take his hand into yours. “Y/N...”

“We have to - to be quiet...” You moan once more, throwing your head back as his arm wraps around your stomach, pulling you closer to him.

He pounds into you, grunting as silently as possible. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He cries out, taking a fistful of your hair. You yelp out of surprise when he gently pulls you back.

You liked that.

“D-do that again.” You stutter, mumbling incoherent words when he repeats the action.

The record player still plays music.

And you’re so grateful that it’s loud enough to silence the filthy sounds between you and Billy.

Thank God for that.

But this... this was a whole new level of sinful.

Billy brings a hand to touch your throat. And you nod in approval, shutting your eyes when you feel the pads of his fingers tighten around your airway. He’s still soft and cautious, but the way he was fucking you was enough to send you into overdrive.

Your hand comes up from the bed, jaw hanging open in utter bliss as you flex your fingers. “I’m gonna cum. Billy, holy, I-“

“C’mon, baby.” Thrust. “I’m right there...” Thrust. “...With you.”

You’re cumming.

Your legs are shaking and you feel the wave of heat fall over your body like a spell. Billy follows shortly, groaning sinfully as he buried himself inside you. He pulls out, pumping himself as he lets himself go onto your body. You feel the warm drops of his cum drizzle across your back and over your ass, trickling down your thighs and between your legs before you fall onto the bed.

“Oh, my god.” You sigh, curling up. Billy falls beside you, eyes studying your features for any sign of pain or sadness.

“Was that okay?”

“I just had sex with Billy Hargrove. Oh, my-“ Your hand comes up to massage your temples.

He chuckles.

“And I just had sex with you, so I guess we’re pretty even.” He states, kissing your neck one last time.

He’ll give it to you.

You both win.

But who said that the game would be over?

-

“Here’s the project, Mrs. Johnson.” You smile respectfully, exchanging glances with Billy as you hand her the folder. Her eyes bounce from you both, hands sorting through the papers of the project.

“This looks good.” She nods, eyebrows raised when she finds the part that Billy had worked on. “Wow, Y/N must’ve been a great help to you, Billy.”

“Yeah. She helped me a lot.”

Billy links his pinky with yours under the table, where your thigh rests against his. His fingers come to toy with the hem of your skirt, and his touch: cold.

“Well, I might say that this project deserves an A. It looks very well-planned and thought out.” She takes off her reading glasses, placing them carefully on her desk as she re-organizes your papers. “How would you feel about an extra credit project, Billy? Just to boost your grade a little more before the year ends?”

You and Billy share a knowing grin.

It’s wicked.

It’s spiteful.

It’s cold as ice.

But there’s an inextinguishable heat that lingers between the two of you.

“As long as Miss Y/N can be of help to me.” He flashes a charming smile, hands coming up to rest on the wooden desk.

“Of course, Mr. Hargrove.”

You shut the door of the classroom behind you, following Billy into the bustling hallway towards the cafeteria.

He turns to you and winks as he rounds the corner, denim jacket slung over his shoulder.

“See you later, partner.”

“Later, douchebag.”

Oh, how you loved the cold.

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (4/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Shades of Gray}

“Thanks, but I'll pass,” Valerie scoffed.

The trio’s ghost senses went off and Sam turned away from the popular girl. I got it. “Same.”

Danny opened his Space Fold while Tucker distracted Valerie, dropping the thermos into Sam’s waiting hand before she climbed onto her scooter to ride off.

“Are you sure you don’t want an-”

“I’m sure,” she scoffed, shoving Tucker away. “Get lost.”

Suddenly the ground began to shake and the ghost dog burst from the ground.

Danny gasped and ducked to the side as Valerie’s dresser was knocked over. His eyes flickered red as he used a bit of ghost strength to catch it before it could fall into the street.

“Wow, nice catch, loser.”

Danny quickly pushed the dresser upright and let go of his ghost power before Valerie came into view. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Thanks, I think.”

“No, thank you.” She looked over the dresser, sighing with relief. She turned to him with a critical eye. “You’re stronger than you look.”

Danny didn’t get a chance to answer before he was plowed over by a ghost puppy.

“Danny!”

As Danny groaned and rubbed his head, the puppy yapped and licked his cheek. He looked up to see it prancing on his chest with its little flame tail wagging. He turned to Tucker and Valerie, who were staring. “Uh, help?”

“Got it,” Sam said, appearing at his side to scoop up the dog by its collar.

The dog immediately started growling and Sam dropped it as it grew into its giant form. Danny scrambled away, but it kept its eyes on the ghost girl.

She flew back as it snapped at her, holding her hands up. “Easy there!”

It crouched down, hackles raised and Sam prepared her ecto blasts.

Without thinking, Danny opened his Space Fold and the dog disappeared inside.

Sam hesitated, glanced at Danny, then shook her fist. “And stay gone!”

“You!” Valerie growled. “Whatever you are, get out of here! You and you're stupid dog have done enough!”

Sam scowled back. “The dog’s not ours. We’re a cat person.”

Danny frowned. I object.

Overruled, Tucker and Sam both said.

“We?” Valerie asked.

Sam gestured to herself. “We.”

“You’re referring to yourself as we? What a weirdo.”

“And here we were about to apologize for what happened to the lab,” Sam snorted and turned invisible. “Nevermind. Have a nice life.”

“You little freak!”

Danny and Tucker shared a look as Danny got up. “Well, I gotta go. Uh, my parents. They’ll want to know about the, uh, ghost sighting.”

“Ghosts?” Valerie asked as he went to his scooter. “Oh my gosh! Those were ghosts?”

“Yeah, hence the whole flying and invisibility and stuff,” Danny said before riding off.

“Why does he need to tell his parents?”

“Oh, Danny’s parents are professional ghost hunters. Kind of,” Tucker said awkwardly. “Didn’t you know?”

“No.” She watched the paler boy turn the corner then turned to Tucker with a flirtatious smile. “Is that offer of help still good?”

“Y-yeah, absolutely!”

“Where’s Tucker?” Sam asked as she met Danny in human form.

He shrugged. Tuck?

I’ll catch up!

The two rolled their eyes.

“How long do you think he’s going to be hanging around her until he realizes she’s not interested?”

“Too long,” Sam said and the two sent off. “Now, why’d you send the dog to the fold? I could have taken it.”

Danny shrugged. “You were going to blast it. You can’t blast a dog.”

“It’s not a dog, it’s a ghost.” She looked over at him with narrowed eyes. “We can’t keep him, Danny.”

“I don’t want to keep him. He’s a menace. I just don’t want to see him blasted.”

“Is that why you didn’t send him to the ghost zone?”

“I did,” Danny huffed. “He just got back out.”

“And now he’s trashing the fold.”

Danny tilted his head. “I don’t think he is. It’s quiet inside.”

“Whatever. You better not have anything of mine in there.”

Danny bit his lip. Did he return that spider plushy he’d borrowed from Sam to use as a pillow last week? “Maybe I should check on him.”

He ignored her glare as he slipped into an alley. After being sure no one could see him, he poked his head into the fold. Thankfully it hadn’t found the plushie, though it was chewing on the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick in its puppy form.

The dog looked up at him and started wagging its tail, so he quickly pulled his head out. “He’s good.”

Sam shook her head. “You’re lucky Audrey II’s not in there anymore.”

“Oh yeah, how’re the Fenton Shears working?”

“Perfect. Strangely enough, she actually likes to be pruned.”

“Yap!”

The two turned to see the ghost dog’s head sticking out of empty air. It gave a dog-smile before its head was replaced by paws making digging motions. Slowly a hole in the air formed, revealing the Space Fold. The dog jumped through the hole and into Danny’s arms.

“Woah!”

“I guess we know how it’s getting out of the Ghost Zone now,” Sam said, looking between the hole and the dog.

“Bad Cujo, no digging,” Danny said, shifting the dog into one arm and waving a finger in its face.

“Don’t name it!” Sam snapped. Then flinched back when the dog started to growl at her.

“No, no, it’s okay. Sam’s a friend.” Danny scratched the dog under its chin and it relaxed.

“You’re getting attached.”

“Am not.” Danny grabbed the edge of the hole and pulled it closed. “I’m just trying to keep it from hulking out.”

Sam made a disbelieving sound and knelt so she could see the dog better without getting closer. “It’s got the Axion Labs logo on its collar.”

“What? Oh yeah, I saw that earlier. It must have slipped my mind after the rampage.”

She transformed and lifted off the ground. “That’s the first place he hit. Maybe there’s something there that could help us get rid of him. He could be an old guard dog. We’ll check it out. Keep him calm.”

“Why me?”

Sam stuck her hand towards him and the dog started growling.

“Alright, fair. But what do I do with him?”

“Train him? Play with him? Take him for a walk? Ghost dog or not, he's still a dog… We think. Good luck!”

Danny glared as she flew off, then looked down at the dog. “Guess it’s just you and me… Wanna take a walk through the ghost zone?”

Cujo gave a yap and wiggled in his arms excitedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think I’m actually going to miss him. The look on Skulker’s face when he stole his leg was priceless.”

“What did I say about getting attached?”

Tucker rolled his eyes as he walked invisibly across the outside of a warehouse. “We still can’t believe this was all over a squeaky toy.”

“Just be glad I took care of it before something really bad happened,” Sam said.

An explosion just missed Tucker, who darted away with a yelp.

“TUCKER?”

He turned to see a woman in full-body red hazmat standing on a hoverboard holding a grenade launcher. He took off, but she followed. “We might need some help. There’s a girl here with a really big gun and she’s not setting off our ghost sense.”

“I’m not far. I’ll be there in a second,” Danny said and hung up.

“A human hunter? And it’s not Danny’s mom?” Sam asked.

“Nope. And she can see us while we’re invisible.”

A blast flew past him.

“Her aim isn’t good though. Can’t be our mom then, her aim is scary,” Danny and Tucker said as Danny came near.

Tucker turned a corner and Danny was there, raising a shield as the hunter threw a handful of throwing stars. Only a few made it to them, and even then they bounced off the shield.

“What? There’s two of you?” the hunter said, pulling to a stop.

“Duplication,” they said, shrugging.

“Wait? Is that Valerie?” Sam asked.

“Valerie?” they said, surprised.

The hunter flinched back. “How did y- It doesn’t matter. I’m ending you.”

The two shared a look, then Tucker held out his hand toward the hoverboard.

Nothing happened.

“Ugh, technokinesis proof,” they groaned.

She fired the grenade launcher at them and the shield shattered.

The two groaned as they pulled themselves out of their shared crater. “We can’t fight her, we’ll hurt her. She doesn’t seem to care about hurting us. Don’t we have a crush on her? Not anymore. We hate technokinesis proof tech. Well, at least some good came out of this. Now go.”

Tucker glared, but dove into the ground while Danny flew past the girl.

She took the bait and chased after the faster of the halfas, letting Tucker slip away.

As soon as his partner was safe, Danny waved at Valerie then began flying through buildings until the hunter, unable to go intangible, lost him.

{Fanning the Flames}

“I think we’re the only ones in the whole school who aren’t obsessed with Ember,” Tucker said as they passed yet another of their classmates wearing the rocker’s swag.

“I don’t get it!” Danny said with a frown. “She comes outta nowhere and suddenly she’s the biggest thing since iPhones! It’s so -”

“Infuriating how mindless pre-packaged corporate bubble gum is preventing true musical artists from being heard?” Sam interrupted.

“I was gonna say weird, but, uh, okay.”

“I’m with Sam. She’s okay, but there are way better groups out there who don’t get anywhere near enough spotlight.”

“We’re not listening to your Swedish pop-techno music,” Sam said. “I’d rather listen to -”

The trio stopped as they came to a school hallway that had been vandalized with posters, stickers, and banners for Ember McLain.

“Ember.”

Paulina came up to them wearing an Ember shirt with matching pants. She looked at Sam and scoffed. “Nice earrings. Sale at the 89 cent store?”

Sam’s hand came up to the Fenton Phones she was wearing. Danny’s parents had invented them to filter out spectral noise, but they also worked as wireless headphones and long-range communicators. The trio had taken to using them during lone patrols and ghost fights that separated them enough that their link couldn’t reach. While the boys only really wore them then, Sam wore them often since she thought they made great techno-goth earrings.

She dropped her hand and gave the popular girl an annoyed look as she stepped closer to Danny. “For your information, Paulina. They’re a gift. Danny gave them to me.”

“Really? He gave you earrings?” Paulina pointed between the two with a smirk. “I always knew you two losers would end up together.”

“We’re not losers!” Sam shouted and Danny added, “We’re not together.”

“Well now I feel left out,” Tucker joked as Paulina swaggered off.

“Shut up, Tucker,” the two snapped.

“Hey, check it out! The lovebirds are ganging up on Foley!” Dash snickered to Kwan.

“They can deny it all they want, but I saw Fenton kissing her when they snuck out at lunch yesterday,” Kwan snickered back.

Danny blushed and Sam jumped for the jocks while Tucker tried to hold her back. “It’s called QPR, you neanderthals! Welcome to the twenty-first century! A guy can kiss a girl on the cheek without it being romantic or se-”

“And we’re done here!” Danny squeaked and grabbed Sam to unsuccessfully help Tucker drag her away.

“Calm down, Sam. It’s not like any of us go around talking about our relationship,” Tucker said. “Of course everyone’s going to think you’re dating if they see you two kissing.”

“People shouldn’t assume things like that just because Danny likes to kiss us or the three of us hug!”

“It’s high school. Assumptions and gossip are the lifeblood of this place,” Danny said. “No need to kill Dash over it. Now stow the soapbox and let’s get to class before we’re late.”

Sam gave the two jocks one last death glare, but let her partners lead her off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is insane,” Danny said as he, Sam, and Tucker stood in the school’s front doors, staring out at the crowd that had gathered around the truck Ember McClain had arrived on for an impromptu performance. “It looks like the entire school’s out here.”

He walked out and his breath misted in front of him. He glanced over to see his partners’ ghost senses going off as well. “Uh-oh.”

The trio looked around, but their eyes quickly locked onto Mr. Lancer, who was standing atop a fire hydrant with a megaphone to yell at the rocker.

“Attention, freakishly dressed teen idol! I order you to cease and desist!”

“Desist this, grandpa!” Ember yelled, fiddling with her guitar. She strummed it and a purple energy wave washed over the crowd.

The crowd turned to Lancer, eyes glowing red.

“Pride and Prejudice!”

“Ember’s the ghost? Oh my gosh!” Danny gasped.

“Another blow against mainstream media,” Sam said and the three transformed.

They took off, Danny saving Lancer from the horde and Sam and Tucker shooting towards the rocker.

It was rather easy to get her and her band into a thermos, especially when one of them could shut down her guitar and speakers with a wave of his hand and the other could wrap her in plants when she tried to teleport away.

{Teacher of the Year}

“Why were we up so late last night? We were playing Doomed. We were trying to beat… WE’RE CHAOS! HOW COULD WE HIDE THAT FROM US?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tucker’s eyes widened as he realized the noob he’d been helping play Doomed was Technus. “Oh, man, I could have been using my powers to cheat! Why didn’t I think of that?” He grabbed his phone and called Sam. “Sam! Did you realize I could be the ultimate cheat code?”

“Obviously. I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out. What happened? Did you get pwned again? Wasn’t me this time.”

“No, Technus showed up in Doomed.”

“What? Where are you? I’ll meet you there!”

“Level three. Should we call Danny?”

“No, just let him study. Between my grab bag of secret power-ups and your ultimate cheat code, we’ll be fine. He needs to make up that test if we don’t want his parents to come sniffing around.”

“I still don’t get it,” Tucker said as he waited for Sam to reach his character. “Danny’s had straight A’s for years. Why would his parents be mad about one F? It’ll only take him down to a C at worst. My parents are just glad that I’m not failing.”

“The curse of being a family of geniuses I guess. All I know is that if I have to hear him complain about his grades almost falling to a B one more time, I'm decking him.”

[polygamyff]

47. Part 3

Maurice is not amused; he thought his dad coming was a joke but he is in the SUV behind us “why didn’t you want him to come?” I asked, dragging my eyes down to Maurice’ hand which has not left my knee, he is literally wanting my legs on his lap and I said no, he can stop that because my mom is in this car and I already feel bad about this behaviour, his thumb is lightly rubbing against my knee “I just thought he wouldn’t, he comes just to tell me what to do when I don’t need it at all. I am good, I know what I am doing with myself” nodding my head understanding what he means, I guess Maurice is evolving with everything and he doesn’t want to be told what to do anymore, Maurice looked at me and we just both smiled “I like this dress a lot, did you know that?” I giggled “I can tell Maurice; you haven’t stopped telling me at all or stopped touching me” he poked his lips out to me “what is that?” Maurice grinned “you are so cute” pressing a kiss to his lips “now you got lipstick on your lips” reaching my hand over, wiping his lips “so you didn’t mind that Jay went in the other SUV with Ally?” Maurice shrugged “I don’t, but he knows what he needs to do. He needs to make sure you’re ok, that is all I care about. My Bonita and Mi Amor, if he doesn’t do his shit, then he gone. I don’t care” wrapping my arms around Maurice’ shoulder “let’s not think that now, he is ok. He does do what he needs, are you happy I came?” if my mother wasn’t in the back I would be all over him but he doesn’t need me to be doing that on top of what he is feeling “more than happy, a lot of body parts are too. Big man was very happy” I giggled; he is so stupid. Dragging finger down the side of his face “did you actually do that?” I said in a whisper, I don’t want to be too loud about it “how would you feel if I said yes?” I love his side profile, it’s so sexy “I would be impressed, I mean if your man is doing this. That is a good thing” Maurice smirked “then I did, I had too and honestly. It was a good release, I had too. Do you not understand how beautiful you look, you sexy” I feel my head getting so big, like my god he actually did that over me, I didn’t even think I looked that good either. I am on cloud nine right now and nobody can tell me different, my man is in love with me. I wish I could put a caption like that, got my man hard over this.

Taking Reign’ bib off, she seems to be easing up on the drooling for now “you want mommy today don’t you, daddy is working your last nerve and I understand” since she has been teething she does not want to hear Maurice’ shit but he continues to do it “where is Mi Amor’ Rolex? Oh my god Reign, where is it?” Maurice held her hand “at home, I don’t want her to lose it. It’s a little loose on her” I really didn’t want to lose such a thing “what you say? Have you seen these fat arms and hands? Loose?” Maurice said laughing, Reign snatched her hand from Maurice “stop being rude to her, don’t you think she looks so pretty in her dress? I remember I ordered this because I was like she is growing, I knew it would come in handy, you look so beautiful. Just like mommy” Reign smiled at me “aww, I wish I could take the pain from you” pressing a kiss to her forehead “least you are smiling” poor girl, I can see that her teeth are pushing through though “Maurice is jealous that you want me more then him, and I am here for it” I know he is “but she is no fun anymore, she just gets all annoyed with me” Maurice is funny “she is in pain Maurice, she needs snuggles. All you do is annoy her; she just wants some loving which I give. Mama loves her baby so much” Reign rested her head right on my boob “I don’t see how she can do that, and I can’t? I get judged?” shaking my head laughing “she is baby and you’re an old man that won’t stop harassing me. If she is comfortable then I don’t care” no way in hell I would let him in public “I am not comfortable so now what?” he is so annoying “be quiet, be nice to my baby ok. Also, we ain’t doing anything until she is ok” Maurice groaned out “Reign doesn’t even like me anymore, it’s annoying” Maurice has really taken this to heart “I bet if you show her all the love then she will, she is just sensitive. You love to annoy her and she doesn’t want to know right now” he needs to understand that first and maybe they will both get along together.

Holding Reign’ pacifier in her mouth as we arrived, she decided she wanted to be whiny right at this point. She spat her pacifier out twice so I am holding this shit in her mouth until she rests up, I have given her gel for her gums which she fought me on “the hotel looks really nice” there is a few people outside already “thank you, never seen it before until today” does Maurice ever see anything “Robbie, you want me to have her while out there?” my mom asked, the SUV door opened by Jay “I will be ok mom, thank you” moving my hand back, I hope she doesn’t do it again because I will end up running out of pacifiers at this rate. Holding Reign and also getting out of the car, who do I save, my child or my boobs “let me take her from you” I breathed out, he actually read my mind “thank you, please don’t annoy her” Maurice reached in “come to papa, let’s be friends again” Reign went to him, she didn’t throw a fit luckily. Shuffling out of the SUV, Jay held his hand out to me and I held it “your handbag” he reached into the SUV as I got out “thank you Jay” fixing myself and flattening my dress down “Mrs Willis, I got you too” here comes Marquis and Joy, and Nalah. I am shocked to see her “look at this hotel! Look at it!” Marquis half shouted, “I know dad, hi mom and Nalah” Maurice said, walking up behind Maurice “you look so pretty Nalah, who did your makeup?” Nalah smiled “girl, it was lastminute. How the fuck is you!? And you came here to impress” hugging Nalah “I could say the same about you, you ready to mingle again?” I asked, Nalah rolled her eyes “I am looking at your damn bodyguard, I need someone right now” letting out an oh, I mean Ally has been with him “well you never know” I don’t want to mention a thing, it’s not my place too “Nalah” Jay said “hey, dressed in a suit today?” Nalah said “Maurice threatened me” sounds about right with Maurice “it looks nice on you” I am not going to be involved in this so let me float away “Robyn” Joy came at me, hugging her “hi, nice to see you again” moving back from the hug, looking over at Maurice and Reign and she has her head turned away from Marquis while resting her head on Maurice’ shoulder, oh she don’t want to know today “my poor baby angel is teething, Joy. She is getting teeth!” Marquis is so excited; it was funny to see. When I see this, I can only imagine what he was like with Maurice.

I have missed Mi Amor so much, it’s been so long since she has held me like this since teething “aww I know” rubbing her back “I can hold her” my dad said, I chuckled “you can but she don’t want you does she? Anyways, it was nice that you all came and also Nalah, I appreciate it” Nalah smiled at me lightly “we do need to talk” another woman that needs to talk to me, oh god “sure” I said, so I have Terry and now Nalah that want to talk to me, I must fit them in before I have sexy time with Robyn. I swear I am blown away by Robyn, she looks so beautiful. I am so blessed at what god gave me, he has given me the most beautiful woman in the world that loves me with her whole heart, I am happy. I am just overwhelmed, and I honestly would like to hide Robyn to myself because look at her body, see here I am staring at her again, I can’t help it “your mother is so beautiful Reign, I don’t deserve her” I said to myself, watching Robyn speaking to my mother with Terry at the side of her, both Terry and Robyn are ever so beautiful, I mean she gets her looks from her mother but also her father, I am not gay but he was a good looking guy too “are you done staring?” Lorraine came into my eye-view “I can’t help it, sorry. Are we ready to go now?” Lorraine smiled “yes, can you give Reign to Robyn or someone for now, we will get rolling to walk ahead, the people want to see you” nodding my head, my daughter is comfortable on my shoulder though “Robyn” walking around Lorraine “take Reign from me, I need to go ahead” I get shy, my god Robyn looks so good, I feel my heart thumbing against my chest.

Adam rushed over to fix my cufflinks “this is the governor of Atlanta, Brian” Ally said to me, nodding my head seeing this middle aged white man “Maurice Davenport, welcome to Atlanta” getting my hand out to him “Brian, it’s my pleasure to be here. To see the first hotel of mine, since the crossover. Atlanta is a great city” feeling a tap on my shoulder “Brian and Maurice look at me” I forgot that we have a photographer now “shake hands still” this is not me; I hate this shit. Shaking his hand still while smiling as he took pictures of us “I wanted to welcome you to my city, I wanted you to feel like this is your second home, you can home here anytime. This hotel is new beginnings, with such a name behind it. Come on, let’s meet the people” nodding my head smiling, looking behind me. I want to see Robyn is around and she is, my dad is of course making sure she is ok. Follow behind Brian “little red carpet? What is the event?” I laughed saying, Lorraine rushed by me “stand here” Lorraine advised, looking at the backdrop. Nice little Davenport backdrop, I like this “Maurice” rubbing my face looking at the cameras, I didn’t expect such a turn out and honestly, I just wanted it lowkey and quickly go but I have to stay here too which to me, sucks a little “Maurice! Bring your family? Where is your family!?” hearing the constant shouting “here” I said looking at Lorraine, she rushed by me “Robyn and Reign please” she got them, turning around laughing. Robyn looks so shy with Reign, Robyn walked over to me and stepped back “what you doing?” Robyn said all wide eyed “go on, let them take pictures” Robyn shook her head laughing.

Holding Robyn’ hand, dragging her along with me. Terry took Reign from her “New York times” Lorraine said to me, I have no idea who these people are “Maurice, do you have a date on when you will be taking over the company, we have had rumours flying around? No date yet? We can see your dad is here with you, is this something that will stop now” the lady asked “erm, by the end of this month. My dad wanted to do it around my birthday, we have to get things in order which we are now. It’s around the corner, but my dad he will always be around with me, he is my teacher and my dad” I said, I am not letting Robyn go, I am holding onto her hand “you think you will end up taking over every Hilton hotel? This takeover was a surprise to everyone, but you limited it why?” I really didn’t know what was going to be asked “erm, I did it because first of all we don’t know what we are getting into until you get into it, the plans are for now to keep to America. We have so much more to happen, we have so much on in terms of my company and I feel like this is just the start” I hope Lorraine is happy with my answers “do you think that is down to you becoming a father which has changed you? Has that been your change, we know what Maurice was like?” I chuckled “it was that and also finding love, I couldn’t predict this. I know the media wanted to beat me down for it, hearing the stories about women’s rights and I am a bad guy, you just don’t meet the right person. I have now, and I am sure the media will find good in that, but I am happy and you all can catch me on Forbes next, thank you” walking off, I ain’t dumb. New York times been a bitch ass towards me of course, they can of course make up shit that I was angry when I wasn’t “Maurice! What do you want to say to the people of Atlanta?” Lorraine stopped walking and so did I “this is Atlanta news” she said, nodding my head “I want to say that I do love this city, there is so many job opportunities for the people of Atlanta, and I know that this hotel will be bringing in many tourists and everything else with that” I have no idea what to say “Robyn, are you proud of him? What do you think is next for him?” Robyn’ eyes widened, she was not expecting this “I am extremely proud of Maurice, he has come a long way from when I have met him. There is so much happening with him, he is always busy working. I would say he is a dark horse when it comes to business deals” smiling at Robyn “how are you settling with life in New York, was this something you both came to an agreement with?” I am the spare part now “it was, I wanted my daughter to be close to her dad. I know the media knows the past Maurice, but the future Maurice they are not ready for at all” look at my wife, she is really rooting for me and it feels good.

Holding Reign in my arms standing behind the red ribbon “bring Terry here, Terry! Come here” she is standing too far for my liking, I have the hotel staff all out here with my family “Robyn, mother in law, can you squeeze more together, at the side of Maurice. Want a picture” Rich said before moving back “Terry, why are you hiding” Terry laughed hitting my arm, she was wanting to hide. Feeling Reign’ little hand on my ear, she has been doing this the whole time I have been holding her, touching my ear. Smiling at Rich as he took the pictures “beautiful” he moved away so the rest of the media can take pictures “super proud of you Maurice” Terry said, I laughed “aww thank you, appreciate you coming out too. Shall we cut the ribbon!?” I shouted; I want to get it done with now “will you be ok to hold her while doing it?” Robyn asked, nodding my head “I will be ok, she is ok ain’t you Reign” I don’t know why this girl is holding onto my ear, are they that big or is she missing bubzy “here” Ally passed me something to cut the ribbon with “ok y’all ready” I said, I am a little excited now after all this “one, two, three” they chanted as I cut the ribbon “it’s open now” I laughed as everyone clapped and cheered “here” Ally took the scissors from me “proud of you” Robyn said to me, pressing a kiss to her lips “congratulations, the first Hilton-Davenport hotel!” Brian shouted and Reign did not like that at all, she ended up crying “awww did he scare you, it’s ok” Terry took Reign from me “come on let’s go in” walking into my hotel, there is more staff in this bitch. I didn’t know, I wish I could know them all but that will never happen “thank you” I said as they all clapped “it’s nice to see you all” waving at them.

Rubbing my face listening to this girl speak, I have zoned out. It’s too late, I don’t know what to do or say now but Nalah is showing me the people we have helped with this program, I didn’t even know we had it in Atlanta at all, I thought it was California only, what do I know “uh yeah, you know what. It’s been great to meet you” the girl smiled wide, she seems so happy “thank you, for allowing me to work here. Like it’s amazing, that you are helping young black kids like us. Nalah, she is great” nodding my head “she is when she wants to be” I have no idea what this program does “can we take a picture, please!” I laughed “sure, me and Nalah yeah?” she nodded her head, she is sweet bless her “Jaivon! Take this picture please” she asked one of the boys, stepping to the side as she got between me and Nalah. Smiling at the camera as he took the picture “yes, thank you!” she yelped “it’s ok, I will hopefully meet you again” moving backwards “you need to tell me what the fuck this program does?” I am confused, Nalah laughed “you are so funny, I am handling this shit. I decided to open this program for young black kids that are looking to go into business or hotel management. We have helped a few kids Maurice, you should be proud. We pay them to visit the hotel in New York, stay over there. We need more successful black kings and queens, but this for low income families, you just leave it to me while your name gets all the good” I sighed out “it’s not like that, it’s amazing actually. Thank you, you do put in work. You wanted to speak to me?” Nalah crossed her arms across her chest “Shawn keeps sending me flowers, he is sorry, but I don’t think I want to be with that, I can’t shake it off. I wish he didn’t tell me; I like him but it’s bad vibes. This shit is the only thing keeping me sane. What do you think I should do?” Shawn is my best friend, I don’t know what to say “erm, what do you want me to say? Look, I think you should think about shit, when you’re ready then go back to it. I will tell him to give you actual space, if he is sending you flowers. He must like you” Nalah laughed “I guess, is Jay single?” frowning at Nalah “huh?” I said confused “Jay? Is he single?” I paused thinking “erm, well. I guess, I mean he is feeling Ally, I guess but he is not taken. Nalah just don’t” Nalah shrugged “see if he wants that or me, leave me be now” she walked off, she is such a mess at times.

Downing the wine, it’s free and also it’s been a while, it is only one glass, maybe two or three, or four “can I steal Robyn? For the rest of the night? I mean it’s not night but for now?” my dad is just staring at me “don’t you think it’s like rude to go?” my dad said “if I want to have sex with Robyn right now, I do. Got it? Just being you, but with one girl” I sniggered “Maurice, stop that now” my mom said “I am doing nothing, he is stood there judging me, I am just having fun. Then acting like I can’t do something” Robyn grabbed my arm “let’s go, come” side eyeing my dad “you need to use your head at times, I am telling you now Maurice. And have some respect for yourself and Robyn” I don’t know who he think he is “respect? You know what, I didn’t want you here really because you are here to judge me” I know him “and now you’re showing up me and you, go now. Son listen to me. Go, give him some water too Robyn” he is such a manipulative asshole sometimes “come on” Robyn yanked my jacket, walking off away from my dad. I would like to punch him one day, but I won’t “what is your problem? You have been drinking clearly, what is wrong with you?” Robyn said “my dad has been judging me this whole day, I can’t be bothered. And yes, I had a few drinks, my dad thinks I am doing everything wrong. I know him” I do know that man “Maurice, stop. Listen to me” she faced me “listen to me on this Maurice, you are not him and he is not you. He is making you feel this way, but you are a better man, you and your dad have some issues and always will, don’t let your dad think you are doing anything wrong because you haven’t, let’s go” I need to not drink, for a while or ever again.

Robyn is liking the hotel room, but I don’t care for it “why did you have to drink anyways?” Robyn asked “because I was kept being given drinks and what can I say? Oh, I can’t do this because I have sickle cell but then I kept drinking, I am not drunk. Just a little tipsy, sorry” I probably let her down “don’t be sorry, you just need to cool off. I am not disappointed or sad, but I know what will get you going” Robyn said “look to your left then” looking to my left seeing Robyn butt naked “it just slipped off, just like that” my smile grew “this will cool me off all the way!” I spat, she is still wearing her heels too, my god “oh Bonita, oh my god” Robyn sat on my lap “mhmmm” I moaned out, she is so beautiful, I nibbled on her bottom lip, tugging it into my mouth “you and me are so alike, you have turned me into a feign” moving my head back “you made me be a feign first, I am a dick” she paused  “ted” she finished “to you” our lips came crashing together and the kissing intensified, her hands cradling my face as we gasped for air but our lips not moving away for one another.

[jimlingss]

Head Over Heels to Hell

➜ Words: 27.5k

➜ Genres: 80% Fluff, 20% Angst, Childhood friends To Enemies To Lovers!AU (it’s a roller coaster), Reverse Soulmate!AU, Historical!AU (kind of)

➜ Summary: Some people are destined to never have a soulmate. You are one of the few. Instead, you have something much different - a parasite set out to destroy and ruin your life no matter where you run to.

➜ Warnings: Mention of death and a shit ton of other things - I promise it's not too angsty but still tread carefully. Implied smut & slight historical inaccuracies.

➜ Notes: My god, I wrote this back in April. But honestly, I’m so fucking proud of it. This is probably my most favourite Hoseok story I’ve written up to date. Dare I say, it might even be masterpiece level. Anyways, I’ve been super excited to share this. Enjoy!

Cr.

Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several, fated to fall in love with their other half or a fragment of themselves. Whether it be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence by your side that makes a home a true home - each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and the void feeling that lingered while they travelled through life on their own disappears.

 You, however, are not so fortunate of an individual.

 “A few folks in the world don’t have a soulmate.” The old woman sighs while looking out from her porch. You sip on your juice box, swaying from side to side on your toes next to the rocking chair. “I can see it in your eyes, dear. A bachelorette. You’ll be alone for your entire life and the next to come.”

 You quirk your head to one side. “What’s a bachelorette?”

 You can’t comprehend what your grandmother is saying. She’s using such complicated words that your dad hasn’t taught you yet but you aren’t very concerned with it either. Any second now, your mom will emerge from the kitchen with ants on a log and you’ve made sure you finished your breakfast this morning to be able to eat them. Also, your mom says your grandmother is old and her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be, whatever that meant.

 Did that mean she was crazy? If she’s crazy then that’s not good. But maybe crazy is fun and exciting. Oh! That little doggy that wanders around the yard is also fun and exciting. Speaking of which, where is it?

 “It means you won’t be able to experience love.”

 Your grandmother snaps your attention momentarily back into focus. You peel your eyes away from the verdant green lawn to the wrinkles surrounding her experience yet tired eyes. “At least, you can experience it but nowhere near the amount that soulmates would feel. Instead of a soulmate, you have something much different, Y/N.”

 “What is it?”

 For once, the sorrow and pity laced in her features has melted off. The old lady smiles at you and pets your head lightly. “You’ll find out someday.”

 Without fully understanding the weight of her words, there will come a day when you look back and regret not taking heed of the warning.

Fate decides to begin smiling down at you at four years old.

 Barely able to walk on your own two feet without wobbling, your mother sends you off to preschool with a bright knapsack and brand-new shoes. You aren’t aghast to be without her but more so, bewildered that there are so many miniature humans like you in the confines of such a small space. “Y/N?”

 Your name being called has you flopping your head to the ceiling where a young lady with an apron tied around her waist is grinning. “You’re Y/N, right? Welcome to our little Buttercup Daycare!” The teacher squats down to meet your height. “We’re just having a little playtime now before all the kids get here and we do some crafts together. Is there something you’d like to play with?”

 It’s then that you confirm you quite like this lady. She’s very nice and pretty.

 Your tiny arm raises, finger moving from your fist to point at the pink princess castle in the corner. She smiles and ushers you over. “Great choice! Do you like princesses?” You nod at her question, and she hums, watching as you open the door and study the plastic building. “You know, Emily really likes to play with princesses too! She would be a great friend. I should go get her.”

 No. No. No. You don’t want a friend. You want to play with the teacher- “Oh…”

 Before you were able to turn around and voice your opinion, the lady has disappeared in the sea of children. You whip your head around, standing on the tips of your toes to catch sight of her but the struggle is fruitless.

 Suddenly, it hits you hard. Your mother is gone. Your father is at work. The teacher is nowhere in sight and all these rambunctious strangers are scaring you. They’re shouting, screaming, running, giggling - it’s sheer madness.

 With the blind courage of a four-year old, you bravely step into the crowd, yelping when a stranger bumps into you, whimpering when a block is thrown at your foot, crying softly as someone steps on your shoes. It’s no wonder that you get pushed aside so easily when even a gust of wind could knock you off your feet. But this time, it isn’t a mere nudge.

 Like a swift current, a stream of children running indoors when they’re not supposed to, accidentally collides into your little body, shoving you aside and you're pushed to the ground. A shock ripples throughout your frame, knees bruised, palms met with the rough carpet. You’re absolutely stunned, unable to grasp what just happened but in the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, you break out into horrific and heart wrenching sobs.

 “Owie…”

 “Stop crying.” In the midst of the chaos, you rub your eyes with your little fists, lifting your chin to meet the tall shadow looming over you. The stranger wears no smile, oddly familiar in a way you can’t understand and his cold gaze doesn’t make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were falling like raindrops. “Only babies cry. You’re not a baby.”

 The boy should be the same age as you. Should because no child should have such a fixated stare and serious expression. There are only a few inklings that show his youth, the pitch black hair that looks more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction, the low height and stature that may be smaller than your own body and the navy green overalls splattered with colours that are not supposed to belong there.

 “Stand up.”

 He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment, letting the remaining salt water drip down your cheeks and then your arm reaches out.

 Your hand clasps his and the boy lifts you off your feet.

 “My name is Y/N.” You smile at him happily, giggling when he tries to shake off your grip but fails to do so. You fear if you’ll let him go, your new friend will disappear into the pandemonium. “What’s your name?”

 “Hoseok.” He sighs when he realizes that you’re going to stick around him now. But he decides you both might as well do something together. “You wanna paint?”

 You loll your head, following his finger that’s pointed to the round table with the green stools and brushes laying on the watercolour sets. Hoseok patiently waits for your answer and you give another toothy smile, letting your dress twirl when you look at him again. “Okay!”

 Four-years old is when you meet Jung Hoseok at preschool and you become stuck to his side like gum, declaring him as your best friend while discovering his enjoyment for painting; how he marks up white printer paper until it’s drenched in vivid hues, scribbling with brushes until all the brush hairs has fallen off. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, you’re his greatest friend!

 “Paint me! Paint me!”

 “No.” He ignores your crestfallen expression. “Don’t wanna.”

 It’s too difficult to hold back the sadness and you can’t help but cry, “Why?”

 The boy huffs out, turning away from you until you face his backside. “Cause I said so.”

 It’s not like he doesn’t want to. Hoseok would paint you if he could. But there’s not really a colour in the watercolour set that could be used to show how brightly your eyes shine.

 Plus, he knows he’s not that good. It would be mean to make you ugly. Especially when you’re far from it in reality.

 //

 Fate’s smile never ceases its smile. Even when years pass and you’re slowly getting a better grip on yourself, it seems like life has always shown you a better side of itself. Well...for the most part at least...

 “Y/N, why are you disrupting class again?” The teacher at the front slaps down her whiteboard marker on the metal ledge, exhaling and giving you a hardened glare. “Do we need to have another chat outside?”

 You wince from the sharp tone, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the class of thirty students have turned around to stare at you. “I’m sorry.” You sink lower in your desk seat. “I-I can’t find my writing journal. I think someone stole it…”

 The teacher scoffs. “Well does it look like we’re writing, right now? We’re doing social studies, so please, sit up straight and open your textbook to page one hundred seventy-four. Now. Please.”

 Everyone turns back to the notes on the board and you downcast your head, trying your best to pay attention but to no avail. To the side, a friend offers some consolation through a warm smile, though before she can lean over and whisper to you, the teacher gives the both of you the stink eye. The old woman’s voice drones on and on about the geography of the world, explaining a worksheet and what shade to use when colouring the countries in.

 As an eight-year old, third grade was the worst.

 Not only was the teacher mean to you, the classes were boring and you didn’t have that many friends. Most of the girls didn’t like you very much since you didn’t like to play with dolls anymore and you weren’t that interested in discussing crushes or soulmates. You liked to write but they thought that was boring. Friends or no friends, it was fine by you. But it was still kind of lonely.

 “I still can’t find my journal.”

 The teacher, sitting at her desk, looks up at you with her reading spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. “Well that’s what happens when you’re too irresponsible with your belongings, Y/N. You should learn how to be more organized.”

 “But I left it inside my desk in the corner like always!” While defending yourself, your voice moves up a pitch, and she seems to get annoyed from the sound. “It’s not fair! I think someone took it!”

 “Don’t be ridiculous! The door’s always locked.” She sighs, exhausted from having to reason with an illogical child. “Stop blaming other people for your mistakes, Y/N. If it’s lost, then it’s lost because of you. You’ll just have to re-do all the assignments and entries I gave.”

 “But-”

 “I don’t tolerate any back talk. Now go outside like you’re supposed to. The bell doesn’t ring for another twenty minutes.” The woman doesn’t offer any more chances as she turns back to her stack of papers, thirty booklets full of worksheets that were handed in and had to be marked by the end of the week.

 You open your mouth to retort but a staggering breath leaves instead. Your shoulders droop with defeat and you force yourself to drag your feet out of the classroom, frame quivering with sobs threatening to break through your throat. The hallway grows blurry in your vision, clouded with tears but you clench your fist, nails digging into your skin, repressing the urge to cry.

 “Y/N?”

 You slowly turn around at the familiar voice and quickly, you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Hey, Hoseok. What’s up?”

 “Nothin’. Are you okay?” He steps forward, meeting you halfway and you meekly nod.

 “Ms. Choi is a mean witch so it’s whatever.”

 Hoseok laughs and you find your lips upturning at the sound.

 One of the biggest reasons third grade completely sucks is because Hoseok isn’t your best friend anymore. Actually, he hadn’t really been your friend since two years ago when you entered first grade. It seemed like in your school, girls hung out with girls and the boys would do their own thing. As much as you disliked it, you couldn’t do much when your friends pulled you away to the other side of the playground where the park benches were and Hoseok was off at the field playing soccer with his other classmates.

 You can’t actually remember the last time you talked to Hoseok. Anytime when you did, whether it be during class or outside, your peers would ask you if you liked him or if you’re dating or if he’s your soulmate. You don’t even know what any of that means.

 (Also, there’s the whole rumour that you can catch germs from boys but you don’t think that’s right).

 “Did you find your journal?”

 “No.” You whimper, downcasting your head at the reminder and afraid that you’ll really begin to start crying. It would be so humiliating to do it in front of him - you’d never return to school again. “I think it’s lost.”

 “It isn’t.” He smiles and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both his arms and thrusting it out in front of you. A gasp spills from your lips and your doe eyes dilate from the recognizable bright green cover. “I found it in the lost and found.”

 You grasp at the notebook, taking it into your hands, feeling the metal coil beneath your fingertips and the wrinkled pages full of erasing, scribbling and doodles. “Thank you.” You choke out words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you. I-I thought it was gone forever. I thought it was stolen.”

 “By Seokjin, right?” He smiles when you nod. “Yeah, I think he stole my pencil too. I lent him a sharper once and it was gone by the end of the day. No one believes us when we tattle on him.”

 “You’re the best, Hobi!” It’s a nickname that you haven’t said in a while, and he’s about to mumble something back but you smother him in a tight hug. Hoseok pretends he’s being choked to death, making hacking sounds and muttering your name but you don’t let up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 “Yeah, sure.” He uses all his strength to rip your arms away from his neck, prying it off in a hurried pace before someone else sees. His breath steadies and he glares at you. But you remain smiling at him, and he scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “I hope it’s okay but I read some of it.”

 “What?” Your eyes enlarge. “You did?!”

 “Yeah.” Hoseok shrugs. “It’s actually not bad but you suck at spelling.” You smile sheepishly at him, acknowledging your bad marks in every spelling pop quiz. “I could fix it for you if you want me to.”

 “Nah, it’s okay.” You don’t want to bother him anymore than you already have. It’s already made you happy enough to have your journal back and to hear that your writing is pretty good; technically he said ‘not bad’ but you’re taking it is a compliment. “Thanks though.”

 The boy in his green plain shirt and trousers is beginning to say something but a hall monitor strides down the hall and whips his head over at the sight of you. “Hey! Aren’t you kids supposed to be outside for recess?!”

 You and Hoseok exchange a startled look before you both book it out the doors together.

 //

 At twelve, fate begins to show its ugly side. Technically not as much as your ugly side.

 It’s painful to admit but you look like the ‘before’ shot of those cosmetic surgery advertisements - bad skin, pimpled face, gawky glasses, braces, awkwardly cut hair, limbs too long — the whole nine yards and more.

 It also doesn’t help that you feel like everyone else looks like they came straight out of a magazine, blown out hair, flawless features, a perfect smile and trendy clothing. So, it’s probably not all in your mind that people are staring and talking behind your back when you walk to your locker or to go to class. Why did puberty have to fuck you up so badly?

 “What are you talking about?” Your friend rests against the washroom counter. “You’re so pretty Y/N. You just don’t see it.”

 The reflection in the mirror says otherwise.

 You look over at her with an unimpressed expression. A lump lodges in your throat when you detect pity in her gaze but you ignore it. “Thanks but I feel really horrible. My skin is itchy and I feel bloated and this is probably too TMI, but my bowel movements haven’t been great.”

 “You’re fineeee.” She emphasizes, flicking a piece of dirt from under her nails. “Trust me when I say it’s a lot worse in your head. No one cares, you know. They’re all too concerned about themselves anyways. But it’ll get better, Y/N. Chin up.”

 “...Thanks.”

 It’s not like you wanted all these insecurities. It just happened to knock on your door, barge inside without a warning and now you constantly feel bad about yourself no matter where you go. The world would be a lot better if it were socially acceptable to wear a plastic bag over your head.

 “I better get back to Mr. Jeon’s math class before he freaks out and sends someone to go look for me.” She checks her phone once and then pats you on the back, standing back on both feet. “See you at lunch, Y/N.”

 “Yeah, see ya.”

 The moment your friend walks out the washroom door, you look back at the silver mirror with a long sigh. No matter what you do, how much foundation or concealer you pack onto your face, it doesn’t help anything. You can either look like a peasant girl or a clown - you’re not sure what’s worse.

 You reach deep into your hoodie pocket, a sleek surface meeting your fingertips and you hesitantly pull the small object out. It’s a lipstick that you smuggled from your mother’s makeup bag this morning. The pink bullet is soft and pretty in hue but you’re aware the moment it meets your mouth, it’ll look like a child trying to play dress-up.

 “All or nothing.”

 You murmur to yourself using some encouraging clichés and then, your hand lifts to dab on the colour. With the lightest touch and your pinky smearing the product, you pop your lips, taking a step back to look at yourself. And wow.

 For once, you don’t feel like a roach emerging from the back of a dumpster.

 You throw open the door, strutting down the hall. Despite no one being around, you feel like a glorious supermodel and the paparazzi are hidden in the corner, your idol waiting with a bouquet of red roses at the end of the aisle, an epic soundtrack playing to each of your steps. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is all you needed to be rich and pretty. Maybe he’ll finally look at y-

 “Y/N?”

 You whirl yourself around, heart stuttering inside your chest. “H-hey Hoseok. What are you doing?”

 The teenager is in a green sweatshirt, baggy jeans and breaking school rules by wearing a snapback hat indoors. He puts down his phone, stuffing the device and his earphones into his pocket and shrugs. “Bathroom.”

 You smile, covering your mouth with your hand. “You’re not skipping class, are you?”

 “Nah.” His hands dig around his clothing and he hums. “Do you have some change I can borrow? I need to buy something at the vending machine and I think I forgot my wallet at home.”

 “Oh, no problem.” You reach into your own pocket before taking out the tiny pink pouch that your aunt gave to you for your birthday. It takes a second until you take out a five dollar bill, lifting it up and into his palm. Your fingertips accidentally brush against his skin and you withdraw your limb like the movement burns you. Hoseok gives you a strange look but dismisses it.

 “I-I don’t have change, just this but you can keep it. You don’t have to pay it back to me.”

 The boy appears stunned and he furrows his brows. “Are you sure?”

 “Yeah.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear but realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s stare was becoming too intense anyways. “It’s fine.”

 “Are you going back to class?” he asks and you nod. “We can go together then.”

 “Don’t you need to use the washroom?”

 “It’s fine. I’ll walk you back.”

 “O-okay then.” It’s terribly awkward and you loathe yourself on having such inept social skills. If it were anyone else, they’d probably be able to find another topic of conversation and switch over smoothly, destroying the tense silence but alas, you are only a twelve-year old who has no such natural talent. “How are you? We haven’t talked in a while. What kind of classes do you have?”

 The subject that you do bring up makes you cringe inside.

 Who even wants to talk about school in their free time?!

 Hoseok seems to get an inkling of your inner turmoil since he rips his eyes away from the profile of your face to the end of the corridor, smiling to himself discreetly. “Y/N, we literally have the same classes together. We see each other everyday.”

 “Right.” You recoil, cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment. “Well, we might see each other, but we don’t really talk. You’re always sitting in the back of the classroom.”

 “And you’re sitting in the front.” The adolescent beside you laughs. “Who knew Y/N would one day become the smartest student?”

 “I-I’m not. Plus, I’m sure you get better grades than I do.” It was true, anytime the teacher asked you to hand back tests or quizzes, you snuck a peek at the grade marked in the corner of the page and for every single one, he either got a hundred or close to it. Most of your peers didn’t know but you did. “You’re the smarter one here, I suck at math and science and-.....Hoseok? Is there something wrong?”

 His eyes are fixated on your mouth. “No. You just have a little of pink right there.”

 He points to your cupid’s bow and you reach up, flustered and perplexed that he noticed the makeup you put on. You wonder if it’s bad or if it makes you even uglier than before. “Where?”

 “Almost. To the left a bit.”

 “Here?”

 “To the right. Up. No. Go down a bit. Here, let me do it.” Hoseok pulls you in with a gentle hand on your shoulder and his thumb on his other hand raises to your lips, rubbing away the colour. The touch is feather-light but from the mere proximity, you’re absolutely stunned at what’s happening. Your eyes enlarge, heartbeat pounding in your ears and your mouth fills with cotton.

 Whether he’s actually dense, or he knows the effect you get from him, he doesn’t make any comments. After a moment, Hoseok pulls away. “There. It looks pretty nice, by the way.”

 “T-thanks.” The pair of you walk the rest of the way in silence. It’s only when you’ve reached the classroom door that you notice he’s a few meters behind you, lingering and glancing at the ceiling. “Are you not coming in?”

 He hitches his thumb to the other end. “I have to grab something at my locker so you should go in first.”

 “Okay.” You watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the boy takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him. Since when did he become so tall? You’re not sure but all you know is that there’s a feeling inside your chest, depriving from an unknown source and you inhale a breath, taking the leap of courage.

 “Wait. Hoseok.”

 He turns. “Hmm?”

 Perhaps it is destiny that has given you the bravery that you’ve lacked for so many years.

 “I’m sorry for not talking to you more. Sometimes it’s difficult since you’re friends with those guys and I’m-”

 You have no one. You’re not pretty. You can’t socialize well. You’re literally the most boring person on this planet. And you harbour a huge fat crush that inhibits you from making any interaction towards him.

 “We’re both in different circles.” Hoseok finishes your sentence and you laugh stiffly. That too. Yet, despite your self-consciousness and metal self-deprecation, he laughs happily and it alleviates the mood. “No, I get that. Don’t worry about it.”

 “I just think we should talk more. I kind of...miss….you…” You’re mumbling at this point, volume becoming quieter and quieter until it’s a squeak. You don’t even know what the hell you’re saying and your face is on fire. It doesn't help that Hoseok's gazing at you so intently without speaking a single word.

 “...that’s all.” To save yourself from further embarrassment, you quickly turn to the door, hand grabbing the door, ready to twist your wrist and enter inside.

 Except, you never get the chance.

 “Wait. Y/N.” Your old childhood friend has his hand wrapped around your wrist and if steam wasn’t leaving your ears before, now it is. “I lied.”

 “What?”

 “I didn’t forget my wallet. I don’t even need to buy anything in the vending machine.” He diverts his eyes, avoiding your stare and frown of confusion. “The rest of class made a mess, and then they ditched to go to the cafeteria. If you go back, you’ll get in trouble for sure.”

 Even with the delayed response from your end, you can only manage one single syllable. “What?”

 “I’m sorry for lying.” After his stupid classmates had ran wild, throwing paint all over the walls, flipping over tables and desks when the substitute teacher had walked out of the room, they all grabbed their bags and spirited away. The first person Hoseok thought about was you.

 You had left to go to the washroom, unaware of what was unfolding and instead of leaving with his friends, he wandered around till he found you. A sick, twisted part of him was curious to see how stupid and gullible you are - he wasn’t disappointed either. You believed him so easily, he didn’t even need to try. But what Hoseok failed to calculate was his own guilt and his weakness.

 You.

 “You can hate me if you want to, that doesn’t matter.” He reaches to grab the five dollar bill, and he slaps it back into your hands. “And you can snitch to the principal but don’t go back in.”

 “Hoseok.” A smile slips on your lips and you become sheepish. “I don’t hate you. Far from it actually. Just...I could never hate you. You’re still my friend.” Hoseok’s fingers still wrapped around yours, preventing you from entering the horrific classroom and the dollar bill in your other hand proves it so. “So, let’s go?”

 Your friend smiles, releasing his grip and grateful that you don’t want to kick his ass. “Last one to the vending machines has to buy!”

 A gasp sounds from your mouth when he takes off running and you laugh, shouting after him and probably disturbing all the other classes going on. “Hey! That’s so not fair!”

 //

 The class drones on and on. It’s absolutely unbearable. Heads are bobbing up and down, trying to stay awake while some have given up all together, sleeping on their desks with their heads rested in their folded arms. The teacher doesn’t seem to care, continuing with her lesson as it was planned.

 “Soulmates are a very peculiar phenomenon in our modern society today and many scientists have yet to discover the reason as to why since it isn’t very biologically efficient. It doesn’t seem like genetics or family history play a huge part, sometimes soulmates are outright opposites while other times they are very similar to each other. It may just be a psychological occurrence.”

 “All they have been able to conclude thus far is when soulmates meet, both parties experience a euphoria of emotions, each of them enhanced and the effects are very similar to some type of drugs out there. The love and passion are like none other. Typically, there are two types of soulmates that people can have. One, there is literally only one person that is your soulmate. Two, there are several people living in the world that could be your soulmate. It differs with each individual and again, no one knows the answer yet. Perhaps someday we'll know.”

 The only person actually listening is some guy at the front of the class. He raises his hand and the teacher calls upon him. “What about people who don’t have either?”

 “Ah...yes...those folks are...rare and far in between.” The teacher wears a melancholic expression, seemingly a bit uncomfortable with the topic. “People without soulmates can find companionship, but they most likely end up alone, in this life and the next and the next….”

 She concludes with- “it’s unfortunate.”

 Your forehead nearly smacks against the wooden surface of the desk as you’re lulled to sleep but your neck snaps back before you can hurt yourself. Fuck. You rub your eyes, screaming inside your head out of pure boredom. Then, an idea flickers inside your brain and you lean over to your friend sitting beside you in the other row.

 “Hey, I’ll make a bet with you.” At your voice, she perks her head up, eyes sparkling in interest. “Bet Mr. Min won’t visit Ms. Kang today. Five bucks, what do you think?”

 She smirks. “You’re on.”

 Lo and behold, the familiar blonde headed teacher sticks his head through the door, thankfully interrupting class and cracking a few jokes while shocking sleeping students awake with his cheerful voice. As Ms. Kang flirts with the chemistry teacher, your friend giggles while you pull out a crisp bill, handing it to her.

 “Okay, you win this time.” You sulk, looking back into your barren pocket.

 “I’ll bet you one more time.” Your friend grins, starting to have fun since class began. “If Mr. Min doesn’t stay for more than ten minutes, I’ll give you your five dollars back and an additional ten. But if he does stay for over ten minutes, I get ten bucks from you.”

 You contemplate the options, weighing each reward and consequence. It sounded appealing, not only would you get your money back but even more? Plus, Ms. Kang was actually teaching a full lesson today and there was a test tomorrow. Surely, he would leave, so she could continue addressing the class. You smirk at your newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

 In the next twelve minutes, you hand over more money.

 Your friend laughs her head off, clutching onto your stomach and you can only sigh from your multiple defeats. Another classmate turns around and asks what the two of you are up to.

 “We’re making bets.” Your friend wipes away the tears that have welled up. “Y/N keeps losing.”

 “Ooh count me in.”

 Someone else who was eavesdropping swivels around. “Me too.”

 The teacher is still chatting away with Mr. Min at the front of the classroom with a group of students while the rest of you wait in boredom. There’s nothing like an entertaining game with monetary prizes to liven up an atmosphere. “Who wants to bet that she’ll forget to hand out homework?”

 “Let’s bet to see if this paper airplane can go outside the window and into the classroom across from us.”

 “Bet that I can’t sneak out without anyone else noticing.”

 By the end of the hour and by the time the lunch bell has rung, your wallet is completely empty and everyone else has left to go eat. As you collect your belongings, stuffing markers and pens back into the pencil case, grabbing your notebooks and slinging your backpack around one shoulder, you can only hope that time will move quicker.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Oh, hey Hobi.” You smile, watching him grab his water bottle that he accidentally left near his chair at the back. “I’m fucking broke, that’s what.”

 He opens the door and you both walk out together. “You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you’re always losing. Your gambling skills suck.”

 You exhale, having too many regrets and fearing what your dad will say when you ask him for a second allowance this week. The money from your summer part-time job was gone as well and all you can think of doing is sobbing on your knees, pleading about your penniless lifestyle. “I thought I could win my money back.”

 “Never go to a casino, you idiot.” Hoseok stops by his locker and throws his biology textbook inside. He closes it and walks diagonally down the hall to your own locker where you grab your gym bag for your next class after the bell. “You’d end up wasting your life savings away and you’d be living under a bridge.”

 “Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?”

 He laughs and swings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you two accompany each other in synchronized steps. It’s a familiar gesture and you’re no longer flustered from being in a close proximity from Hoseok. The infatuation that plagued you during your preteen years has long disappeared.

 High School was a whole nother game, people dating more seriously and futures on the horizon. You couldn’t be very bothered to crush over an old friend when you were more preoccupied with getting into the university you wanted.

 “Why are you glaring at me?”

 “I’m not.”

 At this age, you thought Hoseok would reach his own ugly phase. Puberty tended to affect boys in later years but even at sixteen, the bastard is still decent looking. While you grew more into your skin, learnt to become comfortable in your body and appreciate your flaws for what they are, you expected him to go through a similar thing that you did back then. Yet, never in a day of his life did Hoseok have awkward limbs or bad skin or an awful haircut. Rather, his rounded cheeks were becoming chiseled, his jawline sharper and his hair gelled into a neat fashion.

 And for you, rather than admiring his handsome looks, you’re goddamn jealous of his genetics and beautiful face. Why did fate have to be such an unfair bitch?

 “You spent your lunch money, didn’t you?”

 On cue, your stomach grumbles and you give him a surprised look. “How did you know?”

 “Cause you don’t have any control.” Hoseok reaches over, pinching your cheek and you slap his hand away, cringing at the thought of his dirty fingers clogging your pores and giving you acne. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

 You halt on your toes. He turns around.

 “Wait. Really?!”

 The boy smiles, his grin loosely resembling a heart shape. His eyes crinkle slightly and a bubbling laughter spills from his mouth. “Yeah, but you owe me big time.”

 “When don’t I?” You smile, catching up to him and giving him a good old noogie. “You’re the best.”

 His smile becomes sheepish, and he gazes at you for a long moment, savouring in your touch and presence. “I know.”

 There was something strange about you. From the moment he had met you a decade ago and held out his hand, he always felt a tugging feeling in his chest, as if you were familiar, and he knew you from somewhere else, from somewhere far away. But you weren’t his soulmate.

 Such a thing was impossible for Jung Hoseok.

 //

 The world revolves around the concept of soulmates.

 You didn’t realize it until you became much older and you stepped out from the small schools that you went to, the same classes and circle of friends that shuffled together from one year to the next. College was a time when your world expanded ten folds, where you couldn’t recognize three quarters of your classmates, where campus made you lost every single day.

 It also opened to your eyes to the obsession that people had with soulmates; how some folks were absolute consumed with it, going out to bars to talk to strangers, testing to see if they were a kindred soul, having date after date, entering camps and exclusive clubs to seek out their match, downloading special apps on phones to search for their true love.

 One of the few questions that you were asked quite frequently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’

 Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told their own stories of how they accidentally ran into the person they were meant to be with, and they knew instantly at that second. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you.

 That’s how fate is supposed to work.

 Except it worked much differently for you- “I’m never going to find my soulmate, am I?”

 “What?” Your dad puts down his spoon, startled and taken back. The dinner table is silenced. “Who told you that?”

 “Some people just take a bit of time.” Your mom smiles to soothe your nonsensical worries. “I know it took me years to run into your dad.”

 You sigh, recalling the memory like it's imprinted to the back of your hand. “Grandma told me I'd be single for my entire life and the next.”

 “Dear…your grandmother was very ill before she died. She just didn't know what she was saying. Don't let it get to you.”

 “She told me that a long time before she passed away.” You look at your parents for an extended moment, holding your breath in your lungs. You're an adult now and you have a right to know the truth. “You guys know it, right? Can you please not lie to me?”

 “Don't give up hope, you hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding for any retorts or comments. “I don't care what the doctors, nurses and psychologists say or even what your grandma told you. You’ll meet the one.”

 She says it with such certainty, like she's declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

 You've heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you've even seen it with your own eyes. It's supposed to be a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught. The universe is supposed to shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder; happiness will become euphoria and love will become a deepening and familiar companion.

 The gaping hole that individuals never knew existed will be filled. They will no longer walk alone. They'll feel whole. It's everything that Hollywood movies show except it's real. It's perfect. It's a rose-coloured world.

 And all you can do is roll your eyes each and every time you hear it.

 Some people are born without soulmates. There’s no rhyme or reason. It has nothing to do with the way you were brought up, the environment factors or your genetic material. Like some people are innately extroverted or introverted. There’s nothing you can do about it and that thought hurts you even more.

 Your world isn’t rose but a green-coloured world.

 “Wait! Wait for me! Please!”

 Despite your arm waving in the air, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, the bus pulls away from the curb, signalling into the lane. “Fuck!” Your arm tightens around the strap of your bag and you pick up your speed, racing with all your might. “Stop!”

 The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes, each step splattering puddles onto your pants. But it doesn’t matter that you’re being drenched as if you stepped into the shower. You’re late for class.

 If you miss this bus then you’re done for.

 “I’m here! I’m here!”

 Right where you’re mere meters from the bus’ door, your foot juts out for another leap but you miscalculate your environment and your front toes collide onto the metal pole bus sign.

 “OW! FUCKING SHIT!”

 Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your dirtied shoe. The passersby with their umbrellas or under the bus shelter don’t bat a single eyelash and you are alone, under the rain, putting pressure on your wound. It feels like you’ve just broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your sock. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, the bus merges and drives off, disappearing in the distant fog.

 “Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the crying sky, knocking your head back and letting your stubbed toes pulsate and throb inside your shoe.

 You don’t have an umbrella. Your phone is dead. There’s no way you can contact an Uber. Thus, all you can do is limp your way to school in the pouring storm, looking at the roads every so often for a taxi. Fortunately, fate isn’t such a nasty bitch when you catch a yellow vehicle driving down the street. Unfortunately, the taxi doesn’t see you in time and it drives past, too close to the gutter.

 The sewer water splashes like an ocean wave crashing on the shore and if you weren’t drenched before, now you’re soaking wet, drowning in rainwater and sewage.

 “Y/N?”

 A familiar and warm presence appears behind you. Their umbrella drapes over your head, shielding you away from the cold droplets and it patters on the green canopy instead. Instead of bursting into tears like you felt you should, a smile graces your lips. You’ve never been more thankful to have this person around and in your life.

 No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

 “Are you alright?”

 “I’ve been having the shittiest day, Hobi. Literally the worst.” You turn around with a massive pout, sulking at your situation and cringing at how your textbooks and laptop in your bag are probably wet as well. “But what are you doing here?”

 He hitches his thumb to the black car parked by the curb. “I was driving past and I thought I saw you. I stopped to make sure. Aren’t you going to be late for class though? Get in my car, I can drive you to school.”

 “A-are you sure? I mean, I’m soaking right now and I can just keep walking-”

 “It’s fine, Y/N.” He grins, patting your head to placate your worries, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder to support you to the toasty vehicle. His other hand is holding the handle of the umbrella, and he tilts it to cover you completely, letting the rain drizzle on his left side. Your old friend doesn’t seem that concerned about getting drenched and momentarily, the pain in your foot has alleviated. “I have class anyways. We’re going to the same place.”

 Before getting into the car, you shift your head to gaze into his softened, brown irises.

 Regardless of what troubles you face, the struggles that present itself, Jung Hoseok is always around the corner. He’s your truest friend, the one who has stood by you for the longest time and the man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies. Maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

 “Thank you.”

 He grins and you’ve sincerely never felt more gratitude.

 //

 Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

 Sure, it might’ve been predictable to everyone else since all the cliché romance books and movies always depict childhood friends becoming lovers, unrequited loves and harboured crushes becoming reciprocated, happily ever afters emerging from the horizons. You just never knew it was going to happen to you.

 You might’ve been massively infatuated with Hoseok years ago but you thought you grew out of that phase. At the end of the day, he’s a good friend; someone who watched you pick your nose in preschool, when you shit yourself in kindergarten because you couldn’t control your bowels yet, the time he witnessed when you called your teacher ‘mom’. He’s been through it all, thick and thin, disgusting and all the rancid memories. Your family knows his, mothers that have become friends themselves and fathers buddies. Hoseok was supposed to be a brother to you.

 But lo and behold, you had to catch feelings.

 Fate was a cunning asshole.

 “Sorry for getting your car all wet. I was sitting in class dripping everywhere.” You wring out a bundle of your hair, the damp strands clinging to your neck in an uncomfortable fashion.

 Hoseok, from across the table, wriggles his brows up and down. “Oh, I don’t mind if you’re wet at all.”

 “Shut up.” You roll your eyes, playfully scoffing at the innuendo. Brushing it off, you set aside your laptop to look at your friend. “Thanks though. I think I would’ve been screwed if I had to walk.”

 “Jung Hoseok here to save the day again!” He gives a blazing smile, pretending to be a superhero as he does the superman pose. You laugh, and he lowers his fist, expression melting into a warmer smile. “But is your foot okay? You were limping.”

 You’re surprised that he noticed but you nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

 The library is deathly quiet on a Friday at nine o’ clock. There are only a few people sitting around and assistants shelving books. At twenty-one, it isn’t uncommon for your peers to be out at a frat house or crashing a venue around campus, getting wasted and grinding up on each other, maybe meeting ‘the one’ out on the dance floor or at the bar. Hoseok has especially made a name for himself in the years at college, dating around and being the life of the party.

 It’s not necessarily a bad thing but you’ve felt slightly alienated from him since you weren’t big on the whole partying thing. You’d much prefer to curl up on a couch, binging on Netflix and chewing on snacks in the comfort of your own home.

 “Why are you here? Weren’t you invited to any parties?”

 “Nah, I don’t feel like it. Why would I want to go to one when you’re sitting right here.” His greasy remark has you huffing out tiredly, and he giggles. “Plus, who would drive you home?”

 “I can take public transit, you know. It runs until twelve.” You don’t want to be a burden to Hoseok or make him babysit you like a little sister or a pet. If he’s here for the wrong reasons, it would hurt even more than if you were alone. “And aren’t you seeing Yoonji right now? You should probably be out with her instead of me.”

 “No, I’m not seeing her.” He resists the urge to pull on your puffed out cheeks. Hoseok leans his chin in his propped up hand, savouring your sulking expression. “I’m single actually, have been for a long time now. And also, if I hear that you got murdered on your way home or if you slipped on some water and broke a hip, my mom would never be able to forgive me. She’ll burn my entire manga collection and probably run me over with her car.”

 “Of course your mom would.” You stick out your tongue, intentionally ignoring what he said about not dating anyone. “She loves me a lot more than she loves you.”

 “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” The man lazily flips through his textbook, barely skimming the pages and not reading correctly like how he should be. “Hey, Y/N.”

 “Hmm?”

 “Have you been seeing anyone?”

 Your head perks up from the document on your laptop and you give the most unimpressed expression, arousing laughter from the male. “Do you think I have? No one can love me - I’m unlovable.”

 That and you don’t have a soulmate.

 “That’s not true. I love you.”

 What. No. Wait. He probably means it in a brotherly-friendship kind of way.

 “Righttttt...” You bob your head up and down, narrowing your eyes and forcing yourself to dispel away all your delusional thoughts. “Well, I love you too.”

 “Okay, great.” He looks up from his textbook. “We should go on a date then.”

 “.....” There’s a pause. He waits patiently with a smile. You stare at him. “What?!”

 “It’s really convenient.” He quirks his head to the side, mischief glimmering in his orbs. “I love you, you love me. It works out. So, we should go on a date...unless you don’t want to.”

 “....I-I do but where is this coming from, Hoseok?” You lower your pitch, leaning closer as if someone from the ten tables over could hear. The situation unravelling before you is so sudden that you fail to wrap your brain around it.

 “What do you mean ‘where is this coming from’?” The male gives you a look. “Hasn’t it been obvious? I’ve liked you for years! And wow, I can’t believe you’re making me expose myself to you when you haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

 He throws his arms over his chest, appearing vandalized but you’re in no mood for jokes.

 “B-but...but…” All those signs that you convinced yourself weren’t signs are actually signs?

 The endeared gazes, the overly affectionate physical contact, the lingering touches, the smiles and late night texts were all indications. Your mind is reeling from memories for the past decade, wondering if this or that was evidence for his hidden feelings. It feels surreal, like a dream.

 You fear if you wake up from it, reality and fate will be much crueler.

 “You don’t need to feel pressured, Y/N.” Hoseok stares down at his textbook, avoiding your eyes and becoming embarrassed about finally declaring his feelings openly to you. His voice is quiet but you can hear each word, carrying a weight that bears sincerity in each syllable.

 “You can say no if you want to, and we can go back to being friends. I just...I never knew if the feelings were mutual and the timing was always off. I tried to date other people but it...didn’t work out.”

 He takes a deep breath, put on the spot and pressured not to mess up. You’re an important person in his life and the last thing he wants is to scare you off forever.

 “What about your soulmate?”

 It’s the first thing that crosses your mind, a concern that is unbearable and one you can’t erase away. What’s the point of creating something more if he’ll meet his soulmate later on. You’ll be left in the dust, alone, forced to face the memories of ‘what happened but could never last’.

 But Jung Hoseok, being the person that he is, always manages to make your anxieties disappear.

 “You don’t have to worry about something like that.”

 It’s too simple of an answer. Yet, like the fool that you are, you trust in him. “Okay. Let’s go on a date then.”

 A grin spreads across his face, one that swells his cheeks and heart. “Right now.”

 You flinch when he suddenly slaps his textbook closed and you follow along, packing away your laptop and pens. Luckily, no one was really around to be angry over the disturbances the pair of you were making. “Right now?”

 Hoseok smiles. “Last one out the library has to pay.”

 Fate is too kind - and you realize so when you become aware that you were never alone.

 “You’re on.”

 //

 Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several. They’re fated to fall in love with their other half, a kindred spirit or soul, or a fragment of themselves. The love could be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence that makes home a true home. Each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and any loneliness is dispelled away.

 You have Jung Hoseok.

 He’s a friend and companion, a partner that you cherish. While one date becomes two and three and five until you’ve lost count, all you know is that soulmate or not, you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your days with him.

 “That movie was really good, like did you see the part where he came out of the space shuttle to confront her on the planet Neptune? Like wow, I thought he was going to die for sure but he risked his life for her. And then-”

 “Hoseok.” You stop in the parking lot of the theaters, twisting on your ankle to look at him.

 A sweet smile is still on his mouth, and he quirks his head to the side. “Yes?”

 “Can I kiss you?”

 The boy’s taken back and he laughs. “Where did that come from?”

 “I was thinking about it the whole day today.” You play with the hem of your sweater, diverting your attention elsewhere while you murmur softly, “We’ve been on so many dates, but we haven’t really done anything aside from holding hands…..”

 Albeit it was strange to date such a good friend, you still longed to get closer to him.

 Hoseok throws back his head like he’s in pain, and he whines. “I was going to kiss you later before you left but you beat me to it.” He pouts in defeat and then steps closer, cupping your cheeks in his palms with a softened smile. “Of course you can kiss me, Y/N. You don’t really need to ask.”

 Your eyes flutter shut and his close. Together, you move closer inch by inch until you can feel his lips on yours. A smile moves across your face, and he presses harder, tilting his head while you throw your arms around his neck. It’s nice but kind of awkward. The movement is foreign to you, though the pleasant tingles melt any tension in your muscles.

 Hoseok deepens the kiss, making a muffled sound leave your throat, and he savours your taste on his tongue. But suddenly, one moment you feel pleasure and the next, your head begins to throb.

 You don’t pull away, too addicted to his kiss. Then, there’s a burst of electricity.

 The flare rushes to your fingertips, heart stuttering, breath choking you. Underneath your eyelids, the universe halts and then begins to revolve again, faster, louder until it’s deafening and shining in such bright hues that it’s blinding. The happiness that rings through your bones becomes euphoria and love slaps you across the cheek.

 Maybe this is what people described when they meet your soulmate. But no. It’s much different from that.

 You are not so fortunate of an individual.

 An onslaught of memories, versions of yourself across centuries, comes barging through the door in screams. They shout and screech, begging to know as to what the hell you’re doing. The thumping of your head becomes white noise. You pull away from Hoseok like he burns you.

 The boy is as startled as you are, eyes wide, staggering back until he collapses on the concrete ground.

 “I-I remember…”

 You stare at him in sheer horror. “Fuck you.”

 Fate has never once smiled at you, it was cackling. Fate was never kind either, it was absolutely vicious. And instead of a soulmate, you have something much different. Jung Hoseok is a parasite that transcends time, destined to run each path that you take. He is an enemy.

 You’ve finally woken up from the dream.

[16th Century]

 A gentle knock on the door wakes you from your slumber.

 You sit up amidst the silk sheets and the hinges of the massive wooden door creaks. A servant maid peeks her head through the gap and the light from the hallway sheds into the darkened room. “Good morning, your royal highness.”

 “Is there a cause for your disturbance?”

 The tone of your voice rings above the high ceilings and the girl noticeably winces. She keeps her head downcasted. “Yo-your highness, the artisan has arrived.”

 “Is that so?” You hum a thoughtful note before snapping back at her, “then what are you waiting for? Help me prepare.”

 Immediately she enters and draws the heavy curtains away from the window. Sunshine meets your eyes and you find a smile emerging on your lips. She guides you off the bed, helping you splash your face with a cloth, combing your hair back and pinning it up with green ribbons and ropes of pearls. The lace corset is tied tightly around your abdomen, restricting your breathing but you endure it as you study the dress in the mirror. It’s a rather simple dress, a natural waistline and floor length, flowy sleeves and skirt, the jade fabric decorated with golden colours.

 “I think this is perfect, don’t you?”

 You twirl in front a few times and the maid smiles. “Yes, your highness. You look marvelous.”

 Upon being satisfied with her response, you address your servant one last time. “Do not utter a word to the king that I am meeting the painter, understood? If he asks of my presence, tell him I am in the study quarters.”

 “Yes, your highness.”

 The gardens are far away, across towers and courtyards, but you make it there in less than five minutes while hitching your clothing up by the fistful, running in the most unsophisticated manner that would surely cause scoldings from your mother. Yet, you continue on your way nevertheless.

 It’s only a strong gust of wind and an accidental misstep causes you to stumble. You are pushed to the ground, colliding onto the verdant grass, a shock rippling through your body. Immediately, you are shamed. Your knees are bruised, your gown soiled and palms stained with dirt. In the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, your bottom lip trembles, threatening to break out into sobs.

 “Do not cry, your highness.”

 You lift your chin and a tall shadow looms over you. The man wears no smile, an emerald circular cloak draped over his shoulders and an embroidered shirt underneath. His gaze is not cold but intense, yet, it does not make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were to fall like raindrops.

 “Only infants shed such heart wrenching tears.” A soft smile appears across his lips, a fixated stare on your flushing visage but the serious man is the same age as you. His pitch black hair is more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction and some paint has splattered on the skin of his cheek. “And I fear it would ruin your beauty.”

 He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment and then your arm reaches out, fingers clasping his and the male lifts you off your feet. The touch is soothing and light, causing your heart to soar inside your chest.

 “Don’t be foolish. I’ve never shed tears before you, understood?”

 You dust off your dress and he grins.

 “Yes, your highness.”

 The man tries to loosen his grip on your hand but fails to do so when you grasp at him tighter, lacing your fingers through his and not allowing him to let go. A snort of air leaves his nose, and he accepts the new position, guiding you deeper into the royal gardens with bushes of foreign flowers and tall trees lining the cobblestone paths, the scent of florals wafting through the air.

 Farther into the quaint and private place, a canvas is set around vivid oil paints and brushes. He has begun to recreate the image of the blooming orchards and you study the artwork that has yet to be completed.

 “My father has commissioned you as the royal painter but why have you not painted me?”

 Your dress twirls when you look at him again. Jung Hoseok, the man who creates another world with brilliant hues, passionately brushing strokes along the canvas, has been by your side for months and here he is once more, smiling at you.

“I cannot, your highness.” He lowers his head. “I fear that there is no paint I could use that would show how brightly your eyes shine.”

 You spin around to face the bushes, cheeks flaming with each praise. “Please, you flatter me too much, painter.”

 “Ah, but my words are too true, your highness.” He paces around and you lock your gaze upon his. “My skills would be no match to the reality of your beauty.”

 You sigh, longing to have the man closer. Each second and minute that passes feels too short.

 “Painter, I fear my lonely soul enjoys your companionship too much. It’s a shame that you were not born of a royal lineage. My father would never allow such a partnership. He would rather let this kingdom crumble than to give my hand to a commoner.”

“I understand your woes too clearly, your highness.” He takes three delicate strides to meet you in the middle of the grassy area, chest pressed upon chest and his fingers lightly skimming over your blooming cheeks. If anyone from the court were to catch you in such a position, the painter’s life would be at risk, but he seems to pay no mind to such thing.

 “And although I hunger to clutch your hand to my chest, embrace your being, declare you as mine and taste those lips with my own, we are but star crossed lovers.” He exhales, sorrow dripping from his honeyed eyes. “Fate is not so kind to folk like us.”

 You turn away from him in despair, staring up at the cerulean sky and wondering if the Heavens could ever grant you mercy in the name of love. “Eventually, I will be wedded off to somewhere far. The thought makes my heart ache in agony.”

 Your voice breaks and you plead with him. “Painter, would it be so shameful for me to ask you for a single kiss?”

 “Of course not, your highness.” He caresses your face and you melt within the touch. Your eyes shut and he leans in closer. “It is my duty to fulfill your wishes.”

 The kiss is the gentlest of touches, lips pressed upon lips, a bittersweet taste that cannot be savoured, a salty hint caused by your teardrop, the deepest of yearnings and aches for more.

 Why must fate be so cruel?

 //

 It is of the midnight hour when the maid comes barging into your room unwarranted without even a single knock. It startles you to the point where you spring up from your silk bed sheets, gasping and ready to reprimand her but the maid’s wheezes and the distant shouting stops you from doing so.

 You climb out of your bed, taking a robe and covering up your sleeping attire. “What is the matter with you? Speak!”

 “R-rebels have stormed the castle,” she weeps, grabbing onto your arm and falling to the ground, kneeling on the floor, crying and sobbing with all her might.

 The shock is delayed. “Pardon?!”

 The young girl shakes her head, trying to regain composure amidst the mournful grieving. “T-they have captured your m-mother a-and your father has been executed.” You stagger backwards, and she crawls to you, gripping the hem of your dress. “Run, princess.”

 She screams- “Run before they catch you!”

 There’s not a single thing in your hands but your life as you flee the castle walls. The rebels are shouting together, holding torches and capturing any royal member as they scour each room and rip apart all the walls. The knights have fallen, advisors and servants alike being severed of their heads. Blood pours down the courtyard and a couple of paces away from the forest, a misstep causes you to collide against the cobblestone, a cry befalling of your mouth, skin scraped and blood trickling from the wounds.

 A tall shadow looms over you. You lift your chin. The man wears no smile. His gaze is cold.

 You smile, sighing of relief and thankful that the painter is here with you. Perhaps, you can flee together and finally live the life that you’ve always wanted. Except, he does not lift out his hand to pick you off your feet, he bends his knees, squatting down and quirking his head as he stares at you.

 “H-hoseok, what is going on?” You begin to waver from the sharp intensity of his eyes. Any trace of warmth has disappeared, and he seems more amused that you have fallen than worried. “P-Please tell me. I’m s-so scared.”

 Tears seep down your cheeks like raindrops. He doesn’t tell you to stop crying.

 Hoseok smirks. The corner of his lip tugs in a menacing way and his fingers reach out to hold your chin. He leans in, placing a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, and then he parts, admiring the confused expression marring your visage. “Oh princess, you are too innocent for your own good.”

 Your voice does not come out strong but weak. “E-explain yourself.”

 “All of this couldn’t have succeeded without your efforts.” He gestures behind him to the castle, your precious home, that was now being set on fire. Screams of the maids and dukes ricochets to your ears, and he doesn’t allow you to cover them up or cower away.

 Hoseok forces you to watch the scorching flames.

 “Not only did you advocate me to the king and allowed me into the castle but you fell in love with me as well and offered yourself fully. Such a foolish yet endearing character.” He shoves you away and stands, dusting his hands off and watching you pathetically cry.

 “And you were right. Your father would’ve been so shameful to have a daughter like you who helped overthrow the kingdom. Too bad he’s already dead.”

 You can’t wrap your mind around it. All of this is too absurd. Surely, it must be a dream. Hoseok would never treat you this way. He would never betray your trust. You love him.

 “W-what?”

 “Do you still not understand?” He looks over to the symbol sewn on his clothing, the green mark of the rebels. Your stomach turns and vomit threatens to crawl up your throat. You claw at your skin, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

 “Y-you...you liar.” You spit at him, each heavy syllable oozing of venom. “You wretched bastard.”

 Hoseok tips his head back and chuckles. “There is no use in sprouting such vulgarities, Y/N. A revolutionary is needed for the people. They are suffering in ways you will never know. Your ignorance is too great. Life isn’t generous outside of your castle of silks.”

 The betrayal is too much for your heart to bear.

 No amount of rage or sadness, fury or anguish could display the turmoil sewn into your soul, the heartbreak that shatters inside your chest. Jung Hoseok hovers above your small frame. He stares down at you. “But because you demonstrated such benevolence to me and made my job so simple, I will give you ten seconds. Run or the rebels will slaughter you without mercy.”

 Your fragile body hauls itself upwards and despite the screams of your bones, the faintness in your head that swirls the world around, you falter down the hill, racing into the forest. You abandon your people, your family and home, the love that you held onto. You will never forget.

 And you will never forgive.

 Jung Hoseok laughs and gazes at your form. It reminds him of a little sheep running away from a pack of wolves. He muses that it was truly a shame; a shame that you weren’t part of the rebels and merely destined to be star-crossed lovers with him.

 For the rest of your life, you live in the dirty alleyways as a peasant, scraping after other’s leftovers, bugs crawling in your hair and biting your skin, teeth rotting and clothes tattered up. You sob until you can no longer afford to expel water from your body and the short days of your life consists of recalling your warm family and the beautiful life you once had.

 When you die, the last thing you think about is Jung Hoseok and your undying wrath.

[17th Century]

 “Where is my notebook?”

 You’re scouring in the tiny room, searching among the stacks of parchment, quills and bottles of blackened ink, tugging up your wrinkled olive dress. You pull up the smooth narrow sleeves, wincing at the troublesome lace cuffs and you tug on the strings of the small bodice for more breathing space. As you scour your belongings, the bun that was tied to the back of your head begins to loosen and clusters of curls framing your face tickles your nose. The sweat at your forehead slicks down your face and your appearance becomes disheveled in your franticness.

 “My notebook….notebook.” You gasp underneath your breath, standing straight again. “Was it stolen?!”

 There’s a knock and a short laugh. “Did you lose something again?”

 A man in a white linen shirt, dark trousers and a navy coat stands at the doorway, hands held behind his back as he watches you fumble about. “Yes, it’s going to be the end of me, Hoseok, if I can’t find it.”

 “Well, lucky for you-” He takes a few steps forward and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both arms and presenting it out in front of you. Another gasp spills from your lips and your eyes widen from the familiar leather bound notebook. “-I found it.”

 You grasp at the pages, taking it into your hands and feeling the wrinkled pages full of scribbles and doodles made in ink. You choke out the words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you.”

 “Thank you. I-I thought it was lost forever.”

 The man opens his mouth to reply but you smother him in a tight embrace. Hoseok wheezes, making coughing sounds from the pressure of your arms, and he even mutters your name after a minute but you don’t let go of him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 “You’re very welcome, Y/N.” He gently moves your arms from his back. “But you should let go of me.”

 If someone were to see, surely rumours would spread like wildfire. Folks in the village were already whispering of how he came and went inside your abode for hours on end and until the sun went down; a gesture such as an embrace would certainly be scandalous and soil your name.

 You comply, loosening your grip, and he slides away from you with a rather striking smile. “You ought to be more organized, Y/N. At this rate, you’d lose your head and I’d have to go looking for it.”

 A grin sneaks up your mouth. “That’s why I have you.”

 The man exhales, continuing on the other subject as you move away. “I hope you do not mind but on my way here, I’ve read the latest entries.”

 “And?” You settle yourself down in the wooden chair facing the windows, preparing a new bottle of ink to begin the next story. “What did you think?”

 “As usual, there was nothing amiss, quite good actually. Just, your spelling was horrible, Y/N.”

 “I know I’m rubbish at spelling.” You mutter underneath your breath, preoccupied with scribbling something down. After a moment, you sheepishly smile at him. “But that’s why I’m paying you to be my editor. If I were good at it, I wouldn’t need you.”

 “Oh, don't be ridiculous.” He jests in a playful tone, “you will always need me. What would you do if I was not around to remind you to eat once in a while and bathe? You'd be sitting in your own filth and rotting away in this home.”

 The two of you laugh together, admitting that he is not at all false.

 You were withdrawn, living on the secluded outskirts of the town. Not many folks desired to be acquainted with you since men frequently belittled your skills and women would rather discuss child rearing and gossip about the marriages taking place. You preferred to write and most considered that a bore and not an occupation at all. You like to beg to differ but that didn't mean you were free from loneliness.

 It was Hoseok that provided companionship, filling in the positions of what friends would. With his presence by your side, you no longer cared about the rude folks who would mutter behind your back. He is the reason you keep striving forward.

 “Speaking of which, I haven't seen you in a week’s time. What have you been working on as of late?”

 “It's a new story and a strange one but I cannot find it in me to shake it off.” Your eyes are blazing like sunlight. He considers the passion ignited within you is a very peculiar yet attractive trait of yours. “It's something I call ‘soulmates’.”

 His brows furrow. “What is that?”

 “It’s a kindred spirit in which upon meeting, there is a spark of..uh...lighting.” Your hands whip in grand gestures and you pace around the room in equal strides. “The primary character just knows that they will end up with that person and together, they will lead their lives until the next and next one. A person can have one soulmate or several, each a part of themselves that makes them whole. It is a kind of true love, an authentic companionship, a mate that matches your soul if you will.”

 “Perhaps I shall call the story ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.” You whirl back around to face your editor. “What do you think?”

 The man hums. “I think you don’t have enough sleep and your head is up in the clouds again.”

 You sigh, stomping your foot once. “Must you kid around? I am sincerely ecstatic about the idea.”

 “I am only teasing you.” He smiles in a soft manner. “I think the idea is brilliant. If it is you who comes up with it, it always is.”

 “I know.” Your cheeks heat from his compliments and you inhale a lungful. “It’s a shame that not many people will hear about it. What did they say at the printing press?”

 Hoseok grimaces, hesitating on the subject and hoping that you wouldn’t have asked. But you urge him to go on and tell him that your feelings will be spared.

 “Seokjin won’t allow you. He doesn’t believe a woman has anything worthy to say.”

 “Of course. It’s always the same issue.” You’re defeated and at a loss of what to utter. “I know my writing isn’t horrible, especially with your help, dare I say it’s quite good. But in the world we live in, no one wants to hear what a woman would say, much less what a woman would write.”

 Hoseok gazes upon the profile of your visage. The efforts of your labour are evident in the way darkened circles mark the underside of your eye, the natural flush that kisses upon your nose. You are tired and it hurts him to see you this way. “Do you want people to read your work?”

 “Yes, more than anything.” You look outside the window, lost in a trance of a land that would offer a lady like you more opportunities. It’s a silly thought but a prevalent one. “I never cared for recognition or fame. I just want my work to be out there in the world.”

 There is a silence that hangs heavily in the air.

 “Y/N.”

 “Don’t feel the need to comfort me. I am aware that there is no use in contemplating such ridiculousness. My time is better spent putting my active imagination to better use.” You meekly smile, grabbing a new sheet of parchment. A thought brushes across your mind that perhaps if you wedded to someone of importance, your tales can be spread into different civilizations.

 But you have no interest in letting someone take your hand in marriage. Most men would rather you bear children for them than write all day in a room. You’d be better off remaining on your lonesome. But perhaps Hoseok would want to...no...such a foolish thought.

 You have an inkling that you will remain unmarried for the rest of your days.

 The end of your quill is dipped in black ink, preparing to begin another story and you scowl at Hoseok who remains impassive, staring at you at such an intense fixation. “Get back to work before I shake my spear through you!”

 He jumps like his trousers are on fire. “Yes, madam.”

 And the man laughs at your glare.

 //

 A few weeks have passed since Hoseok has bid you farewell, being excused from his duties to travel to his ill mother in another village. You were awaiting for his return but you’re finally drawn out of your home by the excessive noise at the town square.

 “What is going on?”

 A chubby lady with a rounded womb, ready to burst with a new child, chuckles happily and takes your hand. “Your editor, Y/N. Who knew he would be such a literary scholar?”

 “P-pardon me?”

 A new declaration is posted on the wooden board and everyone swarms, despite most being illiterate. The lady who caught wind of news repeats it to you. “Jung Hoseok has been commissioned by the state as the official writer. His play titled as ‘A Midsummer Night's’ Dream caught the eye of the Minister and now he’s published his work under the name of Shakespeare.”

 “E-....excuse me?!”

 You feel faint.

 “Oh, it’s so wonderful, Y/N.” The woman is ignorant to your bubbling wrath. “You should really give his work a try!”

 “That...bastard!” A handful of village folk turn around in shock at your curse and even the lady is taken back, letting go of you and gasping at your barbaric demeanor. But you pay no mind.

 You are too enraged of the lies, the deception, the deceit. Upon racing back home, you discover copies of your work all stolen, ripped away from your hands and name, forged and ransacked.

 And cursing out his name, damning him to the deepest parts of hell, does nothing to sedate the madness of resentments. You will loathe the name of Jung Hoseok until the day you die.

 //

Years later, when Hoseok returns, he receives news from the villagers. Not long after he had left, you suffered under a violent illness and died. He weeps alone as he reads your last written work, ink bled on old pages, a story of enemies and vengeance.

[18th Century]

 The hot sun beams down and sweat slicks down your forehead, coating your skin in a sticky sheen and mixing with the grime on your cheek, the dust clinging to your hair. You are weak from hunger but it’s a familiar feeling that strangely reminds you that you are alive.

 After working since dawn, you take a moment’s rest, blunt sickle in your hand, eyes bleary from the continuous labour. But what catches your sight is the lady of the house walking on the stone path, viewing all the workers and peasants wading through the endless fields.

 “She’s so beautiful.” You sigh in a dreamy manner, following her graceful figure glide by, her cream coloured silk hat matching with the gorgeous gown. Lady Jungha has always been a beauty since birth, powdered skin and rosy cheeks. She is an exquisite phantom, a fictitious being that’s pulled out straight from books. “If only I could look like her.”

 “Why are you so concerned with nonsense beauty?” Your friend stands straight, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Hurry up and focus plowing the wheat fields or else we’ll have nothing to eat!”

 You downcast your head, griping a few words before exhaustion envelops your frame and you keep quiet, concentrating on your duties of a farmer.

 It’s only until the sun is beginning to dip across the horizon that you’re free from the grueling labour. Every part of your body aches as the day before and you only get a single loaf of bread to chew on, cowering beside your friend with a tiny fire that provides warmth inside the brick shack.

 “Y/N, could you fetch a pail of water?” Your friend rinses her face, shuddering from the coldness of the liquid. “We’re all out.”

 “Must it be me?” You sit up from your straw mat, peeking out the window and watching how the sun has fully disappeared. There is no doubt that in ten minutes time, the sky will be black and the moon will rise.

 “I beg of you.” She falls to the ground, suffering from a fever that’s been persisting for the past days. When you pleaded to the lord of the house to let her rest, he didn’t allow such a thing. Your heart only cries when you watch her in this much agony. “I’m not feeling well.”

 “If you must.” You nod, tucking a tattered blanket over her body. “I’ll be back soon.”

 The metal pail clanks as you rush down the dirt path to the well. You try to make it as fast as you can before it becomes completely dark and the nipping chills might lead you to sickness as well.

 But on your way there, with your head facing the dirt, on pure coincidence and on accident, you bump into the body of another person. “I’m so sorry-”

 “Um, pardon me.” He speaks in a sweet voice and you’re drawn upwards, looking the man in his eyes. His natural dark hair is parted to the side with a dab of hair wax, wearing a moss coloured suit; a silk cravat, coat and waistcoat to match. His breech, stockings and shoes are dignified, crisp clothes that show his wealth. “I apologize to interrupt you on your way but may I ask what household is this?”

 You glance over to the grand home towering high in the sky. “Why, this is the Jeon Household. Jeon Jungkook is the lord of the manor and of the land. Who may you be?”

 The man grins. “My name is Jung Hoseok, a traveller scholar.”

 “A scholar?” You smile, easing into the discourse. “That is rather impressive.”

 “Yes, well, I’ve retired to become a tutor and I’ve just arrived in this part of the country yesterday.” Hoseok takes a moment to admire the endless fields of the countryside and the peacefulness that lasts for acres upon acres. “I am afraid I lost my way.”

 You lift one hand to gesture to the path. “The road to the small village is this way and when you arrive at the riverside, leave to the right. There should be an inn there where you can stay at.”

 “Thank you.” He dips his head and before you can bid farewell, he steps forward. “Would it be unmannerly for me to ask you of your name?”

 There’s a second of hesitation, one where you lower yourself, facing the ground. It is shameful for someone like you to be speaking to someone like him, dashing looks and of higher status. You wish it were different but by your battered attire, you cannot lie. “I am L/N Y/N, a lowly servant and farmer to the Jeon Household.”

 However, the man is undeterred by your status and your soft whispers.

 “You are quite the beauty, Lady Y/N, if you do allow me to say. And...a bit familiar.” He gazes at you with a slight frown and finally rips away his eyes once you’ve blushed. Hoseok clears his throat in several harsh coughs. “Thank you for helping me this fine evening.”

 That night, you are unable to catch a single wink of sleep. Your mind is consumed by one single man.

 //

 The sun is falling once more. The wheat fields are tangling with each other, dancing to the warm breeze of the evening, birds chirping their songs before sundown. The fresh scent of the ground follows with the dirtied clothing on your body and you tear off your apron, neckerchief and white linen cap.

 “Where are you going?” Your friend watches you, chewing on her stale bread and bemused by your franticness. “Are you not going to eat?”

 “I will be back soon enough.” You re-lace your stays to hug your frame tighter, dusting off the deep emerald fabric of your petticoat. It’s a shame that you cannot afford a powdered wig or powder for your skin but you make do with what you have, pinching your cheeks for a rosy complexion, brushing your hair to the back of your head and decorating it with a few flowers you had pulled from the side of the path.

 “Why are you trying so hard to look beautiful? You are aware that no one pays no mind, especially to us peasants? They’re all too concerned about themselves to look at us.”

 You know that your friend does not lie.

 No matter what you do, the reflection in the mirror mocks your efforts. Your skin is itchy and of a sickly colour, burnt from being in the sun, the foul stench of labouring in the fields all day follows even after bathing, fingernails blackened from the dirt, the lack of food make your cheeks hollow and bones frail. A pitying gaze from your friend causes you to look away.

 There’s nothing you can do, no amount of colour, pinching or flowers could make you look anything more than ugly. You can either look like the peasant girl that you were born to be or a pathetic court jester - you’re not sure which is worse.

 Yet, you hold your head up high.

 “You don’t understand. I-I’ve met someone.”

 Your friend lowers her bread and stares. “You met someone?”

 “Last night and I can’t help but feel like,” a hopeless sigh spills from your lips, “like he may be my soulmate.”

 Such a concept as soulmates is something that came from a famous book that you heard about once. The writer was a marvelous one, plays and street performances coming from the story and even to this day, countless philosophers are debating the idea that each person may belong to another or select few, created by the so-called ‘fate’.

 “Oh, Y/N. You are too naive.”

 You smile at her. “Believe in what I say, I have a good feeling about this man.”

 Before she is able to ask more questions, you have already left. As fortune may have it, tracing the steps of yesterday, a familiar man stands near the path, admiring the beauty of the endless fields. He turns around at the sound of your huffs and smiles.

 “Is this a coincidence or done on purpose?” He waits patiently for an answer and recognizing how you are flustered by the question, he grins. “I do hope it is the latter for I was also hoping to see you again.”

 Your cheeks flush and a smile holds itself on your face. “Your desire is mutual.”

 The dusk light fills the sky and you pace alongside him, strolling together aimlessly without a place in mind. Simply, you are enjoying his company. “Have you always worked here?”

 “Yes, my parents were also servants for the Jeon Household. It was in my place to continue their duties.” You study the side of his face, chiseled jaw, sharp nose and all, before realizing the rudeness of your actions. “And you? Were you always a traveling scholar?”

 “Ah no, well, I am a tutor now.” He chooses each word carefully and his utterance of the words are gentle. “I am in search of a suitable job. Do you know if there is anyone in the Jeon Household in need of a tutor?”

 “Well, the lord of the house is very educated already.” You’ve always known that lord Jeon has been kind to you and your parents. There were many stories that surrounded him. “He is old and unfortunately a widow. He does have one daughter, however. The lady of the household, Jungah. She’s only nineteen years of age and very beautiful.”

 “Oh.” Hoseok stops to feel the breeze kiss upon his cheeks. It cards through his locks and you watch while in an enamoured state. “Is the lady of the household betrothed?”

 “Not that I know of. Perhaps the lady will need a tutor. I-...” You lower your head, trying to remember your place in the world as a lowly servant. “I could arrange a meeting for you if you wish.”

 “That would be splendid, Y/N. Thank you.” He beams like the sunshine itself and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. But upon realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s gaze was becoming too intense as well. He muses, “You really would be more suited to a bustling town.”

 “A town?”

 “The world has changed, Y/N!” He throws open his arms as if he welcomes the entire universe inside of them. “It’s developed. Such things as working for a lord of the land and barely having enough to eat, people are no longer living in such ways. More and more are leaving the countryside to work at these factories. You can buy food, a warm house, anything you want.”

 He faces you. “It’s wonderful, really. You wouldn’t believe it. You have to see it with your own eyes, Y/N.”

 You smile at his riveting energy but your expression turns to sorrow. “I can’t just leave. They own me here.”

 “I can help you.” Hoseok declares to the rising moon. “I can help you get away from this farm.”

 You gasp, stepping forward. “R-really?”

 “Yes, I have a friend who sells cattle. All you must do is lay on the barrow and let yourself be taken to the border. It’s never been more possible.” His eyes twinkle, brighter than the stars setting above your heads. “All my friend needs in order to agree is ten golden coins.”

 “T-ten?” You reach for your pocket that is weightless. They don’t give you earnings for your work - the food is already the pay. “All I have is four.”

 The man hums in contemplation. “Well, you can give me the four now and when you come up with the other six, I’ll let him know.” You scour your dress to reach inside the pocket, collecting your entire wealth into your hands. “It’s for a better life, Y/N. I want you to be happy.”

 “Thank you.” Your fingers brush against the skin of his palm, letting the golden coins drop into his hand and a strange emotion tugs inside your chest.

 After bidding farewell with the tutor, you watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the man takes that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

 //

 Eventually, in three days time, you catch the gracious lady on her morning walk, and she finds interest in the man you describe. Hoseok expresses his gratitude as another meeting is arranged for him to address the lord of the house and it doesn't take long for him to be hired as the official tutor for Lady Jungha.

 You find that the pair of them, Hoseok and Lady Jungha, have taken a liking to each other, often smiling and glancing while strolling at dawn. But your friend insists that your mind is merely running wild again and such a relationship would be scandalous to the Jeon name. For reasons you are too shy to admit, you hope it is true.

 Each evening, you stroll together with Hoseok, mindlessly speaking and letting time trickle away without a notice. You see him frequently, especially since he now lives on the land as well. And the feelings within your being are only festering day by day.

 Except, one night, you cannot sleep well.

 “Where are you going?”

 Your friend lifts her head as you shuffle on outwear, brushing back your hair and leaving it unkempt. “I’ll be back soon. I need to make sure of something.”

 Today, as you waited on the same path, Hoseok never showed up.

 As improper and rude as it may be, you sneak into the manor like a shadow, slipping through the familiar corridors and hallways, past empty rooms and studies. Surely, if you were to be caught, you would be punished; perhaps days of food taken away from you or you would be forced to work the entire field during the night. But you cannot shake off the worry that plagues your mind.

 It’s not like Jung Hoseok breaks his word. He is a man of dignity and respect-

 “Hhmpph...mmp-h…” A muffled whine causes you to halt and you turn to the lady’s room, the door slightly parted and enough for you to peek inside. “Wait...w-wait.”

 There are two shadows on the bed and you narrow your eyes, barely able to see with the moonlight coming through the glass windows. But you recognize the voice immediately. “What’s the matter?”

 “M-my father,” Lady Jungha pants a breath, laid down beneath the man, “if he finds out about us, I’m scared of what he would do to you.”

 “My lady, are you not aware I would readily endanger my own well-being for you?” He places a kiss on her lips, the sound of smacking skin echoing in the quiet room. Your heart drops. “Your beauty is unadulterated, the most magnificent in the land. You are but a fragile flower and your mind of absolute brilliance. Never have I had such a student. No one compares to you.”

 He strips of his shirt, allowing the fabric to flutter to the ground. His large, coarse hands slink up the lady’s legs, pushing up her silk nightgown until it pools high above her chest. He removes her undergarments and you spin around, back hitting against the wall, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and breaking the skin.

 “Let me reward you. Let me take care of you.” His voice is soft and sweet, dripping of luscious honey and you fear that you will spew the little contents in your stomach out. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

 There are more groans and whines, kisses pressed and skin slapping on skin. The vulgarities and lewd sounds sends a warm wash over your body and you swallow hard, finding it difficult to walk away. “Okay, take me, Hoseok.” The young lady giggles quietly. “I allow you to defile my innocence.”

 Your hand covers your mouth to hide the breaking sob and you run as saltwater clouds the surroundings.

 “Is there something the matter?” Your friend shifts over the straw mat, shaken from her slumber and your sudden appearance.

 “I’m well. Thank you.” You face the dirtied wall, holding your palm to your lips, weeping into your hands until the exhaustion of your labour from the day has taken hold of your mind.

 //

 The sunlight does not seem bright anymore.

 The hard work and plowing of the fields offers a sense of odd fulfillment. The repetitive motions and slick sweat sticking to your face brings you down from the clouds to the ground. You remember who you are: a lowly servant who will never be anything more.

 “I believe I will take the hand of Lady Jungha in the days to come.” Hoseok tells you one evening as you both have stopped to stare out at the endless countryside. You’ve learnt to find sorrow within these walks now.

 “Is that so?” You offer a kind smile, sincerely ecstatic for the man. Despite his mere status, he is a good match for the lady of the house. They are both of beauty and dashing looks.

 “If it were not for you and your efforts, I would not be standing here today.” Hoseok grins, hands behind his back and spine tall. “One day, when I become the lord of the land, I will set you free.”

 You bow your head. “Then it would be my absolute honour, Lord Hoseok.”

 The man grins at the new title and your heart aches as you watch him stride away, increasing the distance and disappearing away from you.

 True to his word, in a month, he has taken Lady Jungha’s hand. It happens too quickly for you to fully understand, the wedding coming and going within a blink, and you simply focus on working the fields, having enough to eat after each day, working hard to obtain six more coins.

 In due time, the strolls with the man diminish until there is nothing left. Yet, what surprises you is the sudden illness of Lord Jungkook and his succumb to the mysterious disease. It is overnight that Jung Hoseok becomes the main land owner and master of the household.

 “Wake up! Wake up, peasants!” Horrific metal is rattled on metal, shocking you out of slumber and you awake, rubbing at bleary eyes. Your friend is in a similar state of confusion, exchanging a glance at you before she gets up, grabbing a cloak to cover her nightgown.

 “How dare you intrude into a lady’s quarters?” You gasp at the men who barge and kick down all the doors of the little huts. The stranger simply laughs at your scoldings and roughly grabs your arm, hauling you outside against your will and throwing you to the dirt. You yelp and your friend comes rushing to your aid, covering you with your own cloak.

 “Take all their belongings!” The men shout and the other servants are torn away from each other, children, women and men alike. “Rip down everything!”

You watch as they scour your tiny room for the little things that you have, a pot of water and straw mat, perhaps a stack of wheat in the corner. You stagger to your feet and a familiar figure stands by the side of the road, gazing out at the wide countryside.

 “Lord Hoseok, I plead with you to tell me what is happening.” Behind him, your friends and their families are screaming, homes torn apart and fires flickering your shadows on the ground. “Why are you treating these poor servants this way?”

 “Oh, Y/N.” There is something strange about the man. His kindness and benevolence has long left his soul and his smile frightens you. “I am selling the land.”

 “Selling the land?! What-?” You are befuddled and baffled. “Does Lady Jungha know about this?!”

 The corner of his mouth lifts, and he locks his eyes with yours. “The lady is bedridden in grief from her father’s death. She cannot sleep or eat and is no longer a wife to me. I have plans to send her to an asylum to get better.”

 “P-pardon me? T-that cannot be true!” You shake your head until it rattles and you can’t see straight. “That must be false! I have to see her for myself-”

 Hoseok clutches your wrist in his hand. “You will do no such thing.”

 A sick, twisted part of him was once curious to see how foolish and easily persuaded you are. He isn’t disappointed. You believe him so easily that he does not need to put forth effort. It nearly spoils the fun and amusement for him to trick you. You almost awaken a sense of guilt within him. Almost.

 It strikes you like a slap and your eyes widen. “You are not a scholar nor a tutor are you?”

 “And you realize so too late.” He lets go, applauding for the little wit you have left. “I lied.”

 Your stomach churns. You feel sick. “Who are you?”

 “A swindler who was once a peasant like you.” His gaze softens a mere tad. “I never once harboured feelings for the lady of the house, I was only trying to gain wealth. You can hate me if you want to, that does not matter.”

 “You are the truest demon that I have met,” you spit out in rage, “and hell has opened its doors for you.”

 He leans his head to one side, chuckling and laughing at the sudden insults. “Are you really so naive, Y/N? Are you not tired of licking the shoes of people who are of higher status? But I must say, if it were not for you, my scheme would have never succeeded. And for that, I thank you.”

 Hoseok reaches into his pocket, taking a single coin, one that you had given him, and he slaps it back into your hands, closing your palm so you can keep it safe.

 You shake with wrath, your entire frame rattling and knees threatening to buckle to the dirt. With the little strength you have left, you throw the coin as far as you can into the fields. Hoseok chuckles again and you prepare to launch over, maul his face with your dirtied fingernails. But his men grab your arms too soon, restraining your limbs and forcing you to kneel.

 “I-I hate you! I spite you! Damn you, Jung Hoseok! Damn you!”

 “What do you want me to do with this girl?”

 “Take her and sell her for the best price.” Hoseok waves his hand, dismissing his men and bidding you a final farewell. “She is rather valuable.”

 You’re thrown into a wooden cage, trapped and hanging onto the bars as the horse drags you elsewhere. You scream and shout but the man does not spare a single glance. You watch his backside disappear slowly, cursing each stride he takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him.

[19th Century]

 “Are you looking for something?” A rounded woman emerges from the back of her market stand, sweeping your frame up and down to guess the wealth you have.

 You’re in a fitted linen shirt and dark green woolen skirt, belt wrapped around the natural waist of the simple ensemble and bonnet decorating your pinned up chignon hair. You look like a well-off peasant, not a customer who could pay for much, but it is a fairly good front since you’re actually penniless.

 “No, I’m just looking for now.” You smile softly and the woman huffs out in annoyance, spinning around to address some other folks who have gathered on the other side. As her back is turned, your fingertips run against the selection of green flower brooches, the gems sparkling in the sunlight.

 You slip one into your sleeve and walk away.

 The women wandering about the market are adorning full, bell-shaped skirt dresses, petticoats with frilled hems, hair in tight curls framing their face and maybe a long time ago, you would be envious of such beautiful clothing but it does not concern you anymore. There’s much more important business to attend to.

 The bustle of the crowded streets and children running at your feet is suffocating and you make a left at the alleyway, sliding the brooch from out your pocket and attaching it on the woolen shawl draped on your shoulders. It looks much better this way. You’re ready.

 Another left, another right, going deeper and deeper into the dirty alleyways that run with rats and of the poor pleading for money - eventually, you make it to the pine painted door, a dingy and discreet place in the corner that already smells of tobacco from the outside.

 You kick down the door. The chaos inside stops.

 “Men!” You smirk at their confused expressions. “Your real competition is here.”

 As a woman, it may be ungenteel to hike up your dress, put your boot on the table and shoot dice while hollering and screaming with the opposite sex but why should you feel ashamed when you are dominating and winning all bets?

 “I’ll bet one more time.” Your opponent, Min Yoongi, slaps down a hefty sack of golden coins. The others cheer, the entire room having all gathered around your table and watching the dark horse snaring victory after victory. “If the dice makes it even, I get my earnings back but if it makes it odd, I will give you the rest of this.”

 You contemplate the choice, weighing the reward and consequences. It sounds appealing, especially when everyone is howling for you to take the deal. In the end, you smirk at the newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

 The dice is thrown. Each person holds their breath.

 In the next twelve minutes, you’ve completely ransacked the place dry of their money. And you laugh your head off, clutching onto your stomach and cackling while the others can only sigh at their humiliating, multiple defeats.

 “Where did a woman like you learn how to gamble?” Yoongi sips from his glass of rum, eyes studying you carefully.

 “Ah.” You smile at him. “But there is your mistake. Woman or man, ‘tis true they are different but not so much. You would be a fool not to look at me as your equal opponent.”

 You’ve seen things that others would faint at; held a gun within your hands, fired shots into the sky, sailed seas with pirates until you found a home here. Yoongi grins. “A fool I am indeed.”

 “Hey!” A piercing interruption at the back causes all heads to turn. The bulky man watching from earlier is holding the dice within his hands, frown decorating his ugly face and rotting teeth. “This dice is fake! It’s not ours!”

 At once, all necks crane towards you.

 They stare. The large men, brawny arms and thighs, bruises lining their skin, red fists and faces becoming scarlet begin to take slow steps forward. Yoongi has his eyes widened, mouth drawing open. You sheepishly smile. And…

 You make a run for it.

 “Get back here!” They dive over wooden tables and stools, tripping and falling, glasses of rum and cigars abandoned, thrown onto the ground. By then, you’ve already yanked open the door, being chased down the alleyway. “She’s a swindler!”

 “A cheat!”

 The horde of men races after you but are no match for your agile legs and speed. You even laugh to further mock them, dashing through the dark alleyways, past the poor and rats, clutters of rubbish and dirtied children. It’s like a peasant parade, a grand crowd following after in shouts and screams and you are their gracious leader.

 “I prefer con artist!”

 You make it to the main street again, knocking over stands and throwing over tables to slow down the angry men. Women scream, men exhale in surprise, children darting away from your form. They trip and stumble, pushing their way through the mass of people. “Give back our money!”

 “Sorry but no thanks!” You hold up a heavy sack of coins above your head with a tinkling laugh, shaking the coins inside to further taunt them. “I need this more than you!”

 The police squadron has noticed the ruckus in the area and has begun running after the ruffians, blowing their whistles and commanding them to stop. You hope they catch the criminals so that you may be spared but if they’re caught, you would be too. People like you are never caught.

 The whistles are blown. “In the name of the royal family, halt immediately criminals!”

 The men continue to run after you. “Kill her!”

 “That’s a bit severe, is it not?!” You’re out of breath, painting and heaving for air.

 You know you won’t last long now. Hence, there’s no other choice but to turn the corner into another street and immediately, in the empty area, you place yourself into another narrow alleyway. “Where did that whore go?!”

 You gasp in offense, muttering quietly, “I am not a whore.”

 The incoherent grumblings quickly turns into a scream when someone suddenly seizes you, their hand yanking your arm but the sound is muffled as a palm is clasped over your mouth and you’re pressed against someone’s firm chest. You pull away from the stranger.

 He smirks. “Caught you.”

 You shove his fingers off of your body, snatching the collar of his fine coat and hauling the man deeper into the shadowed depths of the alleyway. “Jung Hoseok-” You push him to the wall. “-What are you doing here?! How?!”

 The man looks off to the other end that is lit by the sunlight, the unsuspecting thugs rushing past and officers following their tails. “I see you haven’t shaken off your gambling habits.” The son of the loan shark corners you with his larger body. “You still owe my family many loans.”

 “Damn you.” Your teeth grit. “Fine, be as it may, take me to your debtors’ prison.”

 “Good. It would be best if you follow me-”

 In an instant, your shoes have twisted upon the gravel and your heel meets the dirt as you lob your body to the left, ready to take down the alley for yet another chase. But you fail to consider Jung Hoseok’s own agile skills, and he grabs your waist before you’re able to dash.

 “Must you always run?”

 The hot breath tickles against the shell of your ear and you scowl, curses to be spewed on your tongue, but he spins you around and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

 You scream. “Put me down, bastard! I am a lady!”

 “You aren’t.” He rudely smacks your ass, sending a jolt up your spine and you’re silenced in bafflement. The man makes his way on the opposite road of the chaos, into a quieter place with fewer folks wandering about. “And if you do not follow me, I will throw you to those rancid men. Would you like that better?”

 “I despise you.”

 Hoseok smiles, satisfied to see your more compliant behaviour. You decide that you’ll allow him to continue carrying you this way. You’re tired anyhow, legs sore from the race and at the end of the day, he is wasting away his own energy by hauling you there.

 “You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you choose to con them. One day, you’ll be beaten to death.”

 You scoff loudly. “I am going to win in order to pay all my debts back, foolish man.”

 “Gambling never works, haven’t you learnt? You’d end up wasting your entire life savings away and living by the city’s sewers.”

 “Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?” You rest your hand on your cheek, propping your elbow on his broad backside. There are people staring at you, couples cowering away in disdain. You wonder if they’re soulmates.

 Soulmates - the idea that a kindred soul has been fixed for each individual are not only in stories anymore but in real lives. Folks have supposedly begin recognizing an odd burst when they meet their other half. It’s a ridiculous phenomenon. You couldn’t care less about soulmates. What matters is wealth.

 Wealth would help you, free you, give you a better tomorrow. You’ve lived this entire life alone and it is no doubt that for the rest of it, you will continue to be by yourself. There is no one trustworthy - it took you too long of a time to learn that.

 “I’m not naive anymore.”

 “Good.” He laughs, finally setting you down on the property, swinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close as he guides you inside the building, down the familiar halls. You shove his limb off with an ugly scowl, and he smiles. You accompany each other in synchronized steps, the surroundings too familiar for your liking.

 Jung Hoseok is a man with short, black, tousled hair. He wears a double-breasted frock coat and long trousers, a luxurious attire considering the family he comes from. You hate it even more that he is a rather dapper young fellow.

 “This is for your own benefit, Y/N. You don’t even have any money for food. At least if you stay at this place, I can bring you some bread to eat and you have warm shelter.”

 You step inside the cell, and he locks the door with a brass key.

 “This place is cold and horrid,” you cry out. “There are rats and fleas everywhere! You think I could stay here?! You’d be leaving me to die!”

 He smiles at you through the gaps of the metal bars. The stone floorings and walls barricade you in. “I will bring you a blanket and you can make do.”

 You spit with all the fury and rage festered in your soul, “Do not act like you care for me!”

 “Don’t mistake my pity for generosity then.”

 “Damn you, Jung Hoseok.” You grip the cold bars that trap you, screaming after his retreating form. “I loathe you with every last breath in my body!”

 He turns from a little way, figure engulfed in the darkness of the hall. “If it helps, I share my own hatred for you. You make my job a lot harder than need be.” A small smile holds on his face and you see it all too well. “Just sit down and begin separating the strands of rope in the basket. Enough of it and in a few years, you might be released.”

 You curse him to hell and back.

 //

 The sunlight coming from the barred window is always hot in the hour of twelve. You’ve noticed this before a ways back but thought nothing much of it. Today, it makes all the difference.

 You’ve collected the leaves and grass from the corners of the cell, cringing and sobbing out when you accidentally brushed your hand in rat feces, a dead rat and maggots eating at the decaying flesh. But alas, after wiping your fingers on your tattered clothing, you continued on your quest.

 It took a while to break the wooden basket and carve out something decent but you managed with the little fork Hoseok gave you to eat. It’s all thanks to him that you can do this.

 “Come on now.” You murmur, rubbing the two wooden sticks against each other on top of the pile of grass, leaves and rope. There’s a puff of smoke and sweat builds at your forehead as you work your arms back and forth. “I beg of you…”

 The sunlight helps to ignite the tiny flame and a smirk spreads into your cheeks.

 You nurse the fire as quietly and quickly as you can, throwing the bundles and bundles of rope that was prepared for you to separate into the light. As the fire crackles, meeting the height of your waist, you take the stool, standing on top of it and you throw yourself over the tiny ledge.

 Using the motion, you kick the bars of the window loose and you throw your legs out. The height of the drop is survivable. But before you can make your escape, pattering footsteps echo through the hall. “Y/N?!”

 Hoseok stands back from your cell in dreaded horror. “Bloody hell, you started a fire?!”

 “A good distraction, eh?” You smirk at his glare. It was always within the con rule book to create distractions and delay the enemy. “I suppose this would be a good time to bid you adieu.”

 He calls your name over and over again, gripping the iron bars that separate the two of you.

 “You know no matter where you go, I will find you?!”

 “Aww, if you were not an enemy, that would almost sound romantic.” You give him a flying kiss, lips smacking against your palm and gestured out to him. He frowns and you give a wink, a cheerful giggle as well. “Goodbye, Jung Hoseok.”

 “Y/N!”

 And you slip out the window, right out of his grasps, running as fast as you can.

[20th Century]

 Even as the threat of war breathes down your neck, threatening to grab hold of your lungs and smother you in all its horror, soulmates still run rampant through the streets, slaughtering each sliver of hope you have left, strangling the happy life that you want so desperately.

 “You haven't found…” Your friend leans close as if sharing a secret. “...‘the one’?”

 The world revolved around the idea of soulmates. It hit civilization like a ship’s cannon, sudden and full of impact. Now, it was all girls could giggle about and boys could fantasize. Folks would be absolutely consumed with it, parents pairing their children and friends’ together and hoping for that burst of electricity that could only be shared between kindred souls.

 One of the questions you were asked insistently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’. Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told you their own story. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you. That’s how the scientists and teachers, old philosophers and stories, the newspapers said it.

 That’s how fate is.

 “What if I just don’t have a soulmate?”

 You exhale a breath towards the sky and your friend looks at you in astonishment. “Who told you that? Plus, no scientist has said such thing yet. Everyone has a soulmate! Some people just take a bit of time, Y/N. You’ll find someone soon, I just know it.”

 She says it with such certainty, as if declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

 You’ve heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Yet, your own faith and hope are dwindled.

 “Isn’t there more to life than finding your soulmate, getting married and having children?”

 You’re not sure where this is all coming from but perhaps it is the resentments of your universe, how your parents have constantly shoved the ideas of romance and matrimony down your throat since you were a child. When you look around, women are glowing from pregnancies or branded with a ring on their finger.

 “What if I want to go to university instead?”

 “Are you ill?” She nibbles on her bread. “Why are you speaking such nonsense? Y/N, this is the Great Depression and I know your own family is well off but people don’t even have enough to eat.” Your friend shakes her head, scoffing at the ridiculousness of your words. “School...and for women? What kind of place would ever accept that?”

 You don’t respond. She sighs.

 “Y/N, don’t you want happiness and to feel loved? We don’t have many choices other than those things. So, keep your chin up and don’t give up on the idea of soulmates just yet.”

 It’s a rose-coloured world. Everyone sees the universe in blazing shades, laughing and grinning even at such a poor time. They see the glass as half-full, each failure an opportunity to learn, pouring of optimism. They beam with love and happiness, holding hands and sharing kisses.

 Yet, you don’t feel like you are flushing with rose. You are green. A monster of envy.

 //

 The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes. Each step you take splatters puddles onto your house dress, a kelly-coloured, floral, cotton hand-me-down from your mother.

 You’re drenched from head to toe, squealing before taking shelter under a closed flower shop.

 You don’t notice the person who you’re caught in the rain with, the individual that was already there and lifting their hand out to catch the droplets, staring up at the clouds and considering how much longer the storm will take. “Looks like it won’t stop anytime soon, eh?”

 Your body jumps in shock but soon eases from the warm and familiar presence beside you.

 “Jung H-Hoseok.” You blink at him, managing a slight smile out of politeness. “What a surprise.”

 The man is a notorious playboy, someone you’ve seen sucking face in alleyways with other girls, feeling them up right in public, especially Yoonji from three houses down your parents’. Your own mother has told you to stay away from men like him. They’re nothing but trouble.

 “Are you alright?” He gives a sly grin, taking a step closer to you and his body radiates the heat your own skin craves. If someone were to see now, they’d immediately become suspicious and in this small town with gossip being the main activity, your mother would know about it instantly.

 Luckily, no one’s around and the streets are empty.

 “I’m perfectly fine, just soaked from the rain.”

 Hoseok smirks. He’s a cunning fellow, a known looker too. His white shirt is rolled to his sleeves, veins popping from his forearm and you know that any lady in this town would be swooning to be in this position but you don’t dare look at him. You focus on the street.

 “It’s been awhile since we chatted, Y/N.”

 “Well, I’d rather not.”

 “Why?” He tips his head to the side, staring at you with the utmost concentration that you nearly begin to break a sweat.

 You finally look at him, twisting on your ankle to frown. “Would Min Yoonji like it if she knew you were trying to flirt with me right now?”

 “Darling, no one ever said anything about flirting.” He’s amused and that makes you angrier. “But if you want me to, then I can.”

 “You. Are. Ridiculous.”

 “And you are beautiful.”

 “You!” Your mouth has filled with cotton, cheeks heating up by the second and it would be an understatement to say that you’re flustered. How is it that he can get under your skin so quickly and break down your barriers; you’ll never know the answer. “Ugh!”

 “Have I stolen those words out of your pretty lips? Or should I kiss ‘em to make sure they’re okay?”

 You scoff, crossing your arms as if it’s for extra protection. “Now I know why my mother told me to stay from the likes of you!”

 “Why?” His grin spreads into his cheeks, and he leans down to meet your eyes. “Because I make you excited, because I’m dangerous, and she’d rather have you settle down with someone plain and boring like that idiot down the street, Taehyung? Kid doesn’t even know what sex is.”

 You narrow your eyes, spitting out the syllables like it’s your only arsenal left against his suave attacks, “because you toy with women’s hearts and throw them after you’re done.”

 “I would never throw you away.” He answers without missing a beat, leaning against the glass window and studying your frame carefully. “I’ve always liked you, you know. You’re different from the rest of ‘em.”

 “H-How so?” Your interest is piqued, and he realizes it, cockily smirking yet again.

 “You’re not a simple one. You’re a challenge and I like that.”

 There’s a familiar feeling about the man and it puts you on edge. Though you must admit, it is exhilarating to be speaking to him and simply considering all the scandalous acts you could do together in secret. “So once I become easy, you’ll be done with me?”

 “Never.” He shakes his head. “You might know me as a heartbreaker but Y/N, sweetheart, I’m a changed man.”

 Your brow lifts. “Oh?”

 Hoseok sighs with exhaustion. “The war is coming. Everyone says it ain’t, but we all know it’s coming. Before I’m drafted to go out to the field and die, I’d like to open my heart once and love someone completely.” He stares at you once more. “And if it’s you, I think I can do it.”

 You’re filled with bafflement again. “I...you…”

 “At least give me a chance, Y/N.” The rain pitter patters against the green awning of the florist’s shop, the scent of the fresh earth fills your senses and you feel overwhelmed with a sense of peace. More so, Hoseok’s pleading twitches your fingers and melts the barrier around your vulnerable heart. “Let me take you out on a date. What do you say?”

 It’s the first thing you think of. You whisper it in a gentle voice.

 “What about your soulmate?”

 “That’s not a problem.” He smiles, looking out at the street that still pours. “Don’t have one, never will. I’m a free soul.”

 “Huh.” You giggle, having never heard such a thing aside from it coming out of your own mouth. “Soulmate-less people do exist after all, don’t they?”

 “They sure do. And once people figure it out, there’s gonna be nothing but pity for folks like me.”

 He can already feel your skin on his, a simple brush of the shoulders but it leaves him aching. Hoseok wonders what those lips taste like, sweet or of crisp citrus, how soft your mouth would feel on his, what it would be like to swallow your pants and make you the happiest woman on this damn forsaken planet.

 “You mean folk like us.” You bring him out from his daydream, and he realizes that it’s better to be in reality since you’re here by his side, in the flesh and beautifully smiling. “I don’t have a soulmate either. I can tell. It’s something in me that says so.”

 “Yeah…” He gazes at you, amazed at how true your words are. He really hasn’t met anyone like you, who knew him better than he did, who felt the things that he did, someone to share sadness with. “I’ve never met anyone where I’ve felt a burst of electricity. For all I know, my world has always been bright colours and all that sort.”

 “Hmm…” You look at him, locking your eyes into his fixed stare. “You know, you feel real familiar, Jung Hoseok. Maybe we’ve met before this life.”

 The man grins. “That’s the kind of line I used to use when I was trying to flirt with somebody.”

 You nudge him, brushing your shoulder against his again. “Maybe I am trying to flirt.”

 “Can I kiss you?”

 “Yes, you may.”

 His lips touch yours until he caresses the back of your neck, holding you close until your chest is pressed against his and his frame shelters you. Candy - he grins when he finally figures out the sweet taste, and he chases the flavour of your velvet lips until a gentle whine leaves your throat.

 Although there is no burst of electricity, your heart doesn’t stop and your breath doesn’t get caught, all you know is that you’re happy. And this is enough for you.

 //

 Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

 You don’t mean to be head over heels for the man, certainly don’t mean for him to take your heart and kiss you senseless until your limbs feel of butter. When your parents scold your ears off, you resolve to break the relationship but somehow, you run back into his arms like a fool. He takes you and comforts you like a man has never done before. You don’t mean to smile so brightly when he calls you beautiful. You don’t mean to be so weak that you feel marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You don’t mean any of these things but Hoseok was always a cunning one.

 Maybe it is a mistake but the best one you’ve ever made.

“This is my old babe.” Hoseok slaps her trunk lightly. “Someone threw ‘er away and I told my pop I’d fix her up and I did it. I gotta admit, I love her to death.”

 “More than me?’

 “Maybe.” He teases and chuckles when you roll your eyes. There’s nothing special, at least not in your eyes, but when you lay a finger, your boyfriend inhales sharply. “Careful now. This is a Cadillac Sixty Special.”

 You give him an unimpressed expression, hands on your hips and head quirked to one side. “I’m starting to really believe you love a car more than me.”

 “I’m just joking, babe.” Hoseok leans over and plants a soft kiss on your mouth. Before you can pout, he opens the backseat door and ushers you inside. “For m’lady.”

 You get in, and he follows soon after, shutting it and the pair of you stare out the empty road.

 There’s a long pause. “This it?”

 “What do you mean?” He gasps. “This is the best view you could get! This car’s the best!”

 You sigh again and Hoseok laughs, leaning over and draping his arm over you, pulling you close and you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m just kidding around. I know a view that’s much better than this.”

 “And what’s that?” To answer your question, his other hand begins to skim on your thigh, fingertips tracing your skin, getting higher and higher and shifting your cotton dress up until your underwear peeks out. You grab his wrist, looking around and whispering in hushes, “What are you thinking?! We’re out in broad daylight in your parent’s driveway!”

 “No one’s around, honey. C’mon…” He noses at your hair and it’s not like you don’t want this. You do very much, perhaps more than him but you’re also afraid of what would happen if Mrs. Kim, the next door neighbor, decides to walk her little puppy and faints when she sees what’s going on.

 Finally, after some contemplation, you grab Hoseok’s face, pressing your mouth against his until he smiles into the kiss. “You better make this worth my while, Jung.”

 His pupils are blown out, lips swollen and ready to devour you in the backseat of his used car. “Oh, I will.”

 At the very least, he cares about you enough to be okay with staining the leather.

 Regardless of what troubles you face - your parents’ disapproval, the looming presence of the war, your own worries and anxieties about the relationship - Jung Hoseok is constantly around the corner. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. The man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies and maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

 “Jung Hoseok here to save the beautiful m’lady.”

 There’s a blazing smile written across his features and you laugh, causing him to melt into a warmer smile. He jogs up to you, draping a coat over your shoulders to defend you against the slight nipping breeze. The pair of you are taking a walk around his neighborhood, an odd pastime but one you insisted on.

 “Are you okay?”

 You secure the warm fabric over your exposed skin, savouring his scent that is lingering on each stitch of the wool fabric. “I’m fine. Why?”

 Hoseok wiggles his brows in a suggestive manner. “Because you were limping the other day.”

 You scoff. “And that was because of who?”

 Your boyfriend giggles sweetly, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close into his chest. You ease from the gesture, the nervousness temporarily rolling off your shoulders. As the both of you pass a minty coloured mailbox, you finally break the silence.

 “Hey, have you been getting your mail lately?”

 “Every Sunday as usual. Why?” He is amused at the strange question, turning to look at you but already having an inkling on what the whole gist is about. “Are you worried about the war?”

 You hide your face, diverting your eyes and your voice is soft, barely on the edge of breaking. “You know they already told Namjoon and Jimin? Those two are leaving next week, packing all their bags, saying goodbye to their loved ones and family members and...and-”

 “Hey. Hey now. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.” He gently boinks your head with his, smiling and placing a kiss on the crown. “They’re older than I am and my brother hasn’t even been called yet. There’s no way they’ll call me first. Plus if I did go, I’d have Namjoon and Jimin and my brother to look out for me.”

 “But what if-”

 “No what if’s. Don’t wanna hear it.” He sulks with a pout, letting go of you and instead, catching your hand within his. He holds it tight, lacing your fingers together and you smile at him sadly.

 “Are you scared?”

 “Nope.” He punctuates the syllable and shakes his head. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m not afraid.”

 You squeeze his hand. “It’s okay if you are. I would be.”

 “Why are you suddenly asking me all these questions?” He stops in front of his house, holding you close and staring at your expression. “What’s going on in that little pretty head of yours that has you worrying so much?”

 Hoseok knows you too well at this point. Your cheeks flush and you stare at the ground. “There is something. And, I’m scared of what you’re gonna say when you know.”

 “Scared of what I'm gonna say?” He laughs and kisses your cheek. “Darling, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. Don’t you know that I’m fearless?”

 You lift your brow in an incredulous manner. “Really?”

 “Except for spiders, I don’t fight things that’s got more than six legs,” he teases and then becomes serious, “but enough of the jokes, what’s wrong?”

 “I...we’re….” You hesitate, stuttering and an absolute mess. Maybe it’s foolish but you trust this man with all your heart and you love him so. Hence, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself before the storm comes. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

 “What.”

 “I’m pregnant?” You nervously laugh, swinging your held hands and staring at your shoes. “I don’t know how long it’s been but I haven’t been feeling well lately and I haven’t had my...cycle in a while. All the signs, I got them.”

 “Oh wow.” He exhales a lungful, looking off into the distance without an expression. Hoseok is in a state of disbelief, unable to wrap his mind around it, and he repeats you a few times, “We’re gonna have a baby. A baby.”

 “Yep…” You study him carefully, having not expected much but the lack of communication was no less than being put on a tightrope, holding your breath and on the brink of anticipation. “What do you think?”

 “That’s….I’m….I’m going to go...for a bit..”

 “What?!” Out of all the possible reactions, this had to hurt the most - there was no reaction. “You’re leaving?!”

 “I just have to.” He begins to back away, getting to his vehicle that’s parked at the side. “I gotta get some air. See you.”

 “Wait!” You run after him, shouting with all your might as he gets into his little precious car. “Jung Hoseok!” He ignores you completely, putting the keys into the ignition and starting the engine while you bang on the window. “Hoseok! We’re going to talk about this!”

 Despite your fist pounding against the window, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, he pulls away from the curb and goes into reverse. “Hoseok- Fuck! OW FUCKING SHIT!”

 As he was backing up, he mercilessly runs over your foot.

 Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your squashed, dirty shoe. You attempt to rip your limb away from under the rubber tire but the force is too much. It feels like you’ve broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your tattered nylon sock. It swells and screams. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, he finally drives his car off, freeing your extremity, disappearing in the distant fog and abandoning you on the side of the road.

 “Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the sky, knocking your head back and letting your broken foot pulsate and throb inside your poor sandal. “HOSEOK!”

 //

 You should’ve known better.

 At the first sign of commitment, he had ran for the hills and was never seen again. You were lied to. You were betrayed. It didn’t matter if you loved him until your heart ached and it didn’t matter if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You should’ve listened - to others and to your own instinct. The familiar feeling about the man that put you on edge was a warning.

 Jung Hoseok is never there when you truly need him.

 When you knock on his door, his mother tells you he is not there. When you hear that he has been sent a letter, he is not there. When you wait for a final goodbye, he is not there. When you search for him desperately at the train station before he is sent to the war, he is not there.

 When your foot heals, he is not there.

When you lose the baby, he is not there.

When you cry until it hurts, he is not there.

 When you find out that he has died in the midst of the battlefield, he is truly gone forever.

 “I’m sorry.”

 His comrade lowers his head, hat held in his hand, teardrops dripping on your front doorstep. “W-we couldn’t even get his dog tags. He’s gone, Y/N. Hoseok is dead.”

Jung Hoseok never comes back.

 He never gets to face your wrath, your revenge, your anger or heartbreak. He could never marry you if he wanted to, hold you in his arms and apologize a thousand times, try again to raise a child and to kiss your lips on days when you’re tired. He is not there to grow old with you.

 And you have never been angrier.

 “Who said you could leave, Jung Hoseok?!”

 You screech it to the sobbing sky, embracing the cold and harsh rain drilling on your skull. It drenches you, anchoring you to the ground and you ignore the dirt that splashes against your black dress, walking further and further out to the field.

 “You were supposed to go down on your knees and beg for my fucking forgiveness!” You shriek until your throat is raw, crying it out until you’re not sure what is teardrops or raindrops. It aches everywhere and he isn’t here. He isn’t here. Hoseok isn’t here anymore. “You were supposed to cry when you found out the baby’s gone! Bastard. You are a fucking bastard! You know that?!”

 No matter where you go, Hoseok is always able to find you. But why does he never show up when you need him the most?

 “You threw me away! You left me alone like everyone said you would! I resent you!” Your voice gives out, a mere whimper that no one can hear against the thundering sky. “I resent being in love with you. You were supposed to stay with me, goddammit!”

 The rain is ugly. It reminds you of the day you kissed him.

 “When I meet you again, I swear I’ll never forget the things you’ve done to me. All of it.” You’re not done with Hoseok, far from it. You still have to grab him by the collar, curse and scream and swear at him until he apologizes. You never got to kiss him one last time, embrace him, stare at his face until it’s imprinted into your mind. You didn’t get to say goodbye yet.

 Although the rain can’t, the Heavens can hear the oath you vow.

 “I’ll never forget you,” you breathe, “or so help me god!”

[Present Day]

 You live in fear.

 Regardless of where you are, you’re constantly on edge. You look over your shoulder, running from one city to another, frightened when you catch a tall figure with tousled black hair. It’s been years since you’ve been like this but it seems like you’re still suffering without him around.

 “So, we’re just going to trim half an inch of your hair.”

 You smile in the mirror as the hairdresser positions her silver scissors. “Yes, please.”

 But as you catch a person entering the salon, chiseled jaw and sharp nose, dark locks and great height, you flinch and cower. The lady screams, “hold still!”.

 Though, it’s too late.

 Your head ends up with a horrendous bob haircut. And it wasn’t who you thought it was either. The man was a stranger.

 On another particular day, while making it to your work and gripping an umbrella over your head as it drizzles, across the road and past the fog, you catch a familiar person. Of course as any sane individual would, you scream and try to book it the other way. Unfortunately, your heel ends up getting caught in the cracks of the sidewalk and you collide with a random pedestrian, twisting your ankle in the process as you face-plant.

 Once again, the person you saw was a stranger.

 “Have you found your soulmate yet, Y/N?”

 Your colleague quirks her head to the side, fingers laced together with her husband’s. You down your glass of wine, ordering another from the bar and you look her dead in her eyes.

 “Don’t have one.”

 She doesn’t ask anymore questions.

 If you knew what your grandmother had told you all those years ago, if you knew even before this life and all the others, you would’ve stayed the fuck away from any name of Jung Hoseok.

 You don’t have a soulmate. Far from it. But no longer are you dripping in envy, a green monster to the love surrounding the universe. You’re just trying to survive.

 You don’t have a soulmate, though, you’re not completely free either...no...you have something much, much different and much worse. You have a destructive parasite, destined to ruin each path that you take and cause you sadness, pain, anger. You have something that is guaranteed to lie to you, betray your trust, to hurt you in ways where you’re unable to stand back up again.

 Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy.

 //

 “Why couldn’t anyone else go?” You grumble incoherently underneath your breath, eyes shut tight and head leaning against the cold window. “Dammit, dammit.”

 “Welcome aboard on flight W560 and thank you for flying on our airlines today. Please make sure your belt is on when the plane takes off and prepares to land. There will be a light above-”

 The white noise and engine whirling in the back adds to your thumping headache and anxiousness. You try to drown out the noise, ears ringing and motion sickness teasing you as the airplane begins to roll on the taxiway to the runway. At the very least, you were in business class and there were relatively nice seats, a lot of legroom as well. Luckily, you’re also able to miss the long-winded instructions and the entire takeoff when you fall asleep for about an hour.

 It’s only when your shoulder brushes with the stranger beside you that you’re gently coaxed to consciousness. It’s warm. You can’t remember the last time you had such a nice nap. And your lids flutter, slowly opening your eyes. You meet someone beside you and your lips fall. Your heart stops.

 You scream.

 “Shush!” Hoseok reaches over to clamp a hand over your mouth but you flinch. A flash of hurt crosses his features, and he withdraws his hands, pressing his finger to his own mouth to signal you to be quiet instead. “Stop it, Y/N!”

 You continue to scream, startling and scaring all the surrounding passengers. You cower away from Hoseok, drawing your limbs together and nearly falling out of your seat like you’re afraid his touch will burn you. From the close proximity, you feel suffocated. You are smothered.

 For years, you’ve been running. Ever since you knew about the past, you’ve avoided him like the plague. It must be a consequence from fate now that you’re literally boxed in a long rectangle in the sky. But if he’s here...that means something horrible is bound to happen.

 Oh god...you’re going to die, aren’t you?

 “The plane’s gonna fall!”

 You shout in hysterics, crying so hard that you can’t see straight. The flight attendants have gathered in the commotion, trying to understand what’s happened and the reason for the sudden distressed outburst. “We’re going to crash and burn! It’s going to fall!”

 The people around gasp, murmuring and panicking from your proclamation of the aircraft plunging into the ocean below.

 The attendants rush to pacify you. “We need you to remain calm. Take a deep breath.”

 “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” You shake uncontrollably, hugging your own body and weeping to the point where your chest hurts. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die! Please!”

 “The plane won’t fall, Miss L/N.” A flight attendant calls your name once they’ve learnt it and someone kneels in front of you. “There’s just a little bit of turbulence which is caused by strong winds. You’re going to be perfectly fine! We’re going to land in a half an hour! Would you like to walk to the front and take a breather?”

 The comforting voices of the attendant and the others in the background calming the passengers around drown out of your ears. You’re still weeping, for all the centuries, all the lives you lived, for fear and hatred, for pain and sadness. Because Jung Hoseok is here.

 He’s finally here when you don’t want him to be.

 “I-I…”

 You want to switch seats. You want to get away from the man beside you. You want an escape.

 But you also know that as long as he’s on this aircraft, the possibility of it tumbling downwards to crash and burn are all the same. It doesn’t matter how close he is to you or the distance down to the millimeter. As long as he is around, you’re not safe.

 “Y/N.” It’s a soft and sweet voice, an intimate timbre that rattles inside your skull and pulls you away from your blinded fit. The tears in your eyes fall, no longer clouding the surroundings. The pace of your heart thumps to a regular rhythm, breath steadying with each rise and fall of your chest.

 Your eyes have locked with his. Hoseok gazes at you, having lost the details of your features from his memory and restoring all the changes that have happened over the lost years of your lives together. The man seems to hesitate before he lifts his hand, putting it on top of yours.

 This time, you don’t flinch.

 His thumb runs along your skin. “We’re going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen. I swear to you. So, please, trust in me this one time.”

 There’s a pause.

 The flight attendant takes a sigh of relief when you’re no longer ballistic. They look between you and the man, recognizing that the pair of you must’ve had some kind of prior relationship. And they decide to stand back, somewhere nearby in case you need assistance but enough to give you space to relax.

 “W-Why are you here?”

 “I’m going on a business trip.” He tries to explain himself, looking down at his lap. It’s been too long since you’ve last spoken to one another. “I work at an insurance company now.”

 You snort. He looks up and you provide the explanation before he can ask. “That’s ironic considering you ran over my foot.”

 Hoseok’s eyes widen. “I did?”

 It makes you sick. You don’t want to think about the past.

 Your head leans against the window and you cross your arms, looking out at the white clouds instead of his face. There’s a chance you might punch him in the jaw and you’d certainly be detained if you did such a thing. “You just happened to sit next to me?”

 “It was a coincidence.” His voice moves up a pitch in defense. “I swear, I didn’t plan this out. I don’t even know that you were going to be on this flight. You can check my ticket! I’m supposed to sit here! When I got here, I saw you asleep, so I just sat down.”

 Of course, it was a coincidence. Fate is such a bitch.

 Hoseok inhales a deep breath. “Y/N, I don’t even know what you’ve been doing for the past few years.”

 “Good.” You mirthlessly smile and it doesn’t reach your dead eyes. “If there’s one thing I’m doing right, it’s not letting you know where the hell I am and not knowing where the hell you are. I need you to stay away from me. As far as fucking possible.”

 “I want to talk.”

 “I don’t.”

 The last time you saw Hoseok was at the parking lot of the theaters back in university. The last time was when you kissed him, remembered and left running. In the midst, he was stunned, hand reaching out to your retreating form and pain struck in his chest and on his face.

 You had begun to run since then and it’s been nearly a decade. True to the doctor’s diagnosis and your own grandmother’s words, you didn’t have a soulmate. Everyone around you had gotten married or became engaged to their kindred spirit while you wandered the planet alone.

 But you didn’t care. As long as you were away from him, you didn’t want anything else.

 “I still love y-”

 “Be...be quiet.” It physically pains you to speak to Hoseok. “I beg of you. Before I get another anxiety attack, I need you to stop and pretend that you’re invisible. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Don’t breathe.”

 You shut your eyes tight, unable to see his expression. “But I need you to listen to me.”

 “I don’t want to listen, alright?!” You’ve been traumatized, the grief clinging onto each of your bones and you feel tears well up in your eyes again. Each time you look at Hoseok, the faces of your previous self shows and you recall history; the smother flames engulfing your home, illness plaguing you as the quill trembles in your hand, standing naked on a stage while a man sells you to a crowd, being beaten to a pulp and running….running...running.

 And the most painful of all memories: being abandoned after knowing love.

 “I’m scared of you. You scare me shitless. Every single time I’ve met you, you messed me up somehow so please!”

 Fortunately for you, Hoseok complies with your wishes. For the rest of the flight, you don’t hear a single peep out of his mouth and once the plane has landed, you hurl yourself out as fast as possible.

 You never once look behind.

 //

 “When are you going back to work?”

 Your mother asks as she sets breakfast down at the table and your father discards the newspaper. Maybe it was taking it one step too far but now that you knew Hoseok was living somewhere in the city, you couldn’t risk going back. If you encountered him once, chances were high that he would keep coming back and back into your life.

 You couldn’t return. At least not until you figured where to run off to next.

 “Not sure yet. I saved a lot of vacation days up so maybe I’ll stick around for two weeks.”

 Presently, you were hidden in the secluded outskirts of your grandmother’s old house. Technically, it’s your parents’ since they moved into the quiet and quaint place for their retirement years. It’s a home for you too and it’s been a long time since you’ve visited.

 “Well alright then.” Your mother seems appeased by the answer and you dig into the toast. She hesitates, exchanging a look with your father and you can recall why you haven’t been back in so long. “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

 “Nope.”

 “Y/N, sweetie, are you even trying to look?”

 “No.” By being as clear-cut and simple, you hope they won’t ask anymore. “I’d rather not.”

 “But how will you ever find them?”

 You fill your mouth up before pointing your fork to the pair of them, narrowing your eyes. “Didn’t you say that if they’re my soulmate, I’ll meet them anyway?”

 Your father nods in agreeance. “But it doesn’t help to look for ‘em, y’know. Makes the process faster.”

 Your mother hums and you can already tell the gears inside her head are beginning to turn. She considers everyone that she knows, friends of relatives, children of friends, anyone who you might know. “What about that boy that you were friends with during preschool? He went to the same schools as you all the way to college too, right? What was his name?”

 Before you can stop her, she says it. “Jung Hoseok!”

 You choke on your orange juice, coughing and heaving. Your mother’s eyes are twinkling, and she grins with your father. “That would make sense, huh? Together since you were children?! And I spoke to his mother a month back. He hasn’t met anyone either, right? Maybe you two are soulmates.”

 “That’s impossible.”

 Literally — Hoseok is the opposite of your soulmate. If your parents knew that he was your enemy, destined to cause you suffering and chaos, they’d never mention him again. Maybe they’d voodoo him and throw salt all over their doorstep too. But you can’t break the news and cause them heartache. You can’t bear to say it and let them know that their only child not only will end up alone in this life and the next, but they have someone out in the world that will cause them endless pain.

 “Plus,” you add, “don’t soulmates recognize each other upon meeting?”

 Your mother’s brow furrows, realizing that you’re right but your father taps his chin, not ready to give up on the idea. “I’ve been reading lately and the T.V. says there’s a lot of things that go into soulmates so who knows, maybe it’s just a late blooming relationship.”

 You hold back a laugh. “I seriously doubt it.”

 “Don’t give up hope, L/N Y/N. You hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding. “You’ll meet the one someday. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. You always do and there’s nothing you can do to run away from it!”

 Christ...you can only hope she’s wrong.

 //

 The field was verdant in hue, the mint walls of your bedroom and soft beryl flowers haunted you. Green was the colour of your envy, of the luck that you didn’t have, of your greed for love and companionship. But it was also the shade of the serene nature that surrounded you, the symbol of healing and of hope. Hope that would certainly hurt you in the end.

 More importantly, the colour reminded you of him. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hate it.

 “Y/N! There’s someone here for you!” Your mother’s call has you stumbling down the stairs in confusion. There wasn’t anyone that you knew around these parts and- “It’s been so long! We were actually talking about you earlier. Oh, speaking of which, you haven’t met your soulmate yet, right, Hoseok?”

 You freeze. Your mother moves aside. The man is standing in front of your doorway with a sheepish smile, one that conveys too many apologies at once.

 He’s a hundred years too late.

 “What are you doing here?”

 “I just thought we should talk.”

 “Now, Y/N.” Your mother butts in. “Be nice to our guest! It’s been so long since I’ve seen him as well. Hoseok, dear, would you like to go in for a drink of coffee or tea? You can stay for as long as you’d like-”

 “No.” You stride past her, grabbing onto his sleeve and dragging him away. “We’re talking outside.”

 It hurts. It pains you beyond belief. You never thought you had to face him again. Yet, here you are. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. And it drives you crazy in the worst ways.

 “How did you even find me here?”

 You’re tapping your foot, arms crossed, completely unimpressed with his presence. On the other hand, Hoseok is meekly smiling at you, taking in the quiet surroundings of the field. It reminds him of an era that was long ago where it was more tranquil, and he was by your side, taking aimless strolls to waste the evening away.

 “You took me here in the first grade and then again in ninth and twelve. You might not remember but we grew up together.” He watches you carefully. “In this life. Not the other ones. In this one, we were friends long before anything else happened.”

 “Used to be.” You correct. “We used to be friends.”

 There’s a silence.

 “Why are you even here, Hoseok?” You break the summer birds’ song, interrupting the sun’s fall from the horizon. “Is it to apologize so you can feel better about yourself? Do you want to try to move on? Well guess what, you’re too late. You’re lifetimes and lifetimes too late.”

 He takes a moment to decide his words. “I hate that you’re afraid of me.”

 You laugh without an inch of happiness. “I think it’s for good reason, don’t you?”

 “I still care about you. I love you, Y/N.”

 You spin on your heel, having absolutely none of it. It takes all the strength in your muscles to begin to walk away from him. Hoseok inhales a breath and for once, the roles are reversed.

 He watches your backside disappear slowly, counting each step you take that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

 He takes the leap of courage before you’re gone.

 “In the sixteenth century,” he screams and you stop, “I didn’t betray you because I wanted to. It was the plan from the start. The people were suffering and the kingdom needed to be overthrown. The painter...I...still loved you very much.”

 The bandage around the wound is ripped straight off. It hasn't healed. It stings.

 “When you wrote all those books in the seventeenth, I just wanted to help you and get your work out there in the world. I...I came back and I didn’t know you had d-...d...died.”

 Hoseok almost begins to cry. His nails sink into his clothing. His head drops to the floor. It hits you like a bullet train - you weren’t the only one who was tortured.

 You turn around to face him.

 “In the eighteenth, I was a fucking douchebag, I know. But I had suffered so much as a peasant. I wanted a better life for myself. It...It wasn’t my intention to make you suffer too.”

 You call his name, and he ignores you, continuing onwards.

 “The nineteenth.” Hoseok smiles past saltwater eyes. “It was better for you not to gamble. I would have fed you, given you a warm home, and I was going to release you after a year. And maybe, maybe you would have stayed if I asked you to.”

 You step closer to the boy and you wait for the reasons of the years that hurt you the most.

 “In the twentieth — I’m sorry.”

 Jung Hoseok, like all you had hoped for, collapses onto his knees. He faces the dirt, tears dripping like raindrops. “I was a coward. I was too afraid of everything.”

 Your shadow looms over him. He grabs onto the hem of your sweater, anchoring him down to the ground, and he begs for your forgiveness. It’s pathetic, the way he sobs but you don’t feel a single morsel of satisfaction like you thought you would. It aches. Everywhere.

 “You didn’t say goodbye to me.”

 “I’m so sorry.”

 Your arms stay by your side and you look down at him.

 “I lost the baby.”

 Hoseok cries harder. “I’m sorry.”

 “I waited for you.”

 He continues to apologize, each one full of sincerity and anguish. “I’m sorry.”

 “You were supposed to stay with me.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Your hand lifts. You hold Hoseok close to you, carding your fingers through the familiar black locks. It’s been the same pigment for all the centuries you’ve known each other for.

 “Every single day, I waited for you to come back and you never did.”

 His tears stain the fabric of your clothes. “I’m sorry.”

 “You were never there when I needed you the most.”

 He stands himself back up onto wobbling legs, on a face drenched with tears, with a heart weak and overwhelmed. “B-but I’m here now.” He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and you linger in the close proximity, yearning to be closer yet keeping the distance.

 “I’m scared that the longer I spend with you, the worse the outcome will be in the end.”

 “I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t apologize. This time, it isn’t his fault. “I just...I can’t leave you. I can’t do it. In all the lives we’ve shared together, I’ve loved you in each one. But I never fought hard enough. I never fought hard enough for you.”

 “That doesn’t change the fact that you scare me.” You lock your eyes with him. “I’m scared of what will happen later on, if you’ll end up causing me more grief, if I somehow die in a tragic death and never live peacefully or happily. How many more times do we have to keep living like that before we learn that it’s better to stay apart?”

 “But it’s not up for fate to decide for me!” He shouts it with resentments of the past, of the hand of destiny and his own choices that have led you to become so petrified of him and to be so broken. “I don’t fucking care about destiny or about soulmates or whatever the hell we are! Enemies?! I don’t care!”

 You scream back, “How can you not care?!”

 “Fate doesn’t control me.” He’s out of breath and your eyes widen. “And as long as I’m breathing, I’ll make sure I’ll continue to atone for my mistakes. I’ll make sure you’re the happiest woman alive.”

“How can you be so sure?” You ask him, pleading for an answer, gazing into his eyes. “How can you be so sure of yourself? Of us?” 

“Because I love you. I love you,” Hoseok repeats. “And maybe that’s not enough. Maybe it’s not enough to beat whatever’s been predetermined for us. Maybe it’s not enough to restore your trust in me. But I love you. And I can’t walk away from us. I’ll try as many times as I need to. I will fight for as many centuries as I need to. All I know is that I want to be with you....in this life and the next.”

“You’re stupid.” You shake your head. “You’re stupid for believing that we can beat fate but maybe I’m more stupid...for always fucking believing in you.”

 One moment you’re shouting at each other and the next you’re tearfully laughing.

 Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe you’ll end up suffering again and again, back on the endless loop of hardships and heartbreak. Maybe it’s dumb of you to think that you can beat fate at its own game. You’ve been hurt enough times. How much more can you handle and how many more times will it take for you to learn? Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy after all.

 But maybe he’s right.

 Maybe you have more control of your life than you thought. Maybe it isn’t up to destiny or some unseen source. At the end, your existence wouldn’t be worth anything if you keep on running away. A peaceful life but an unhappy one isn’t what you want.

 You love Hoseok. In this life. In the last ones. You always have.

 All you need is a leap of courage and to fight hard for what you want.

 “Then let’s fight together.” You wrap your arms around him, staring at him until it’s imprinted into your mind, embracing his body and kissing his lips once - fulfilling all your wishes from the previous life. “You can make my life as much of a hell as you want. Just don’t leave.”

 “I won’t.” He pulls you close, arms around your shoulders and holding you tightly. Hoseok breathes in your familiar scent, crying and endlessly grateful for your existence. He does all the things he should’ve done. And he keeps you close.

 You giggle, melting into the hug. “I still love you.”

 Although your love is not a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught - the universe doesn’t suddenly shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder - this love is yours.

 “I love you too.”

 It is yours. A constant work in progress, a construction of hard effort and bruised hands, of tired and relentless struggle but it’s one that you fight for. And it’s one that you know, you’ll be proud of in the end.

 “Now stop crying and come inside.” You tease him, stroking his hair and patting his back. “I think my mom and dad are watching from the window.” He nods and sniffles and you laugh.

 This man was once a painter and editor, a swindler and a loan shark, a soldier as well. But now, the boy is your old friend and someone you cherish with every part of your being.

 Instead of looking behind, you focus on the horizon and your fingers lace together with his. “Stay with me for a while?”

 Hoseok grins. “Always.”

 No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

 And now he’s here when you need the most.

[thewiselosers]

Gym Class Losers

CHAPTER ONE: It Gets Worse

It was the first day of the party’s second week of high school when things started to turn from bad to worse, and it didn’t even have anything to do with the mindflayer, the upside down, or hawkins lab.

It was high school, and more specifically, the people in it. They’ve always dealt with bullies, but none with so much of a profound effect that arose when cramping hundreds of teenagers from different age groups and social groups into one setting. The boys found faults everywhere, from the gum laiden desks of the classrooms and unkempt bathrooms, to the overcrowded lunch area. But one thing they weren’t anticipating was the struggle of gym class. Their athletic abilities (or lack thereof) aside, they were thrown a huge curveball when they strolled into the boys locker room that first day. It was cramped and smelled of bad body odor. Trash was already littered about, and the casual half-nakedness of the upperclassmen was a hard concept to grasp when they entered the brightly lit room. From all that Steve told Dustin who in turn told the gang, and what Nancy and Jonathan could advise to their younger siblings, locker room etiquette wasn’t a topic that had been brought up in the slightest.

“What the shit.” Dustin simply said when their minds caught up with the scene before them. Most of their other classmates shared the same reservations when in the boys locker room, standing around awkwardly, waiting for some brave soul, anyone, to choose a locker and start changing.

When one did, it encouraged some others to also join in on the too public strip-down from carefully picked outfits (thanks, mom) to the plane t-shirt and shorts provided by the school, its mascot proudly ironed on the chest. Will looked to Mike, who looked at Lucas who looked from Dustin back to Mike, as they all shuffled toward nearby lockers. Mike and Will’s beside each other, and Dustin and Lucas across from them. One boy their age, Chester, had the unfortunate case of wearing ripped underwear, and just as he began to pull up his gym shorts, a group of upperclassmen passed by, shirtless and rowdy, and proceeded to take advantage of the laughable situation.

“Chuckie’s got a little show going for us, huh boys?”

As the smaller boys turned toward the interruption, the head boy proceeded to poke his finger through one of the holes and pull the fabric down, exposing Chesters pale-white butt to half the class.

The two other boys he was with burst into laughter, and around half of the boys in the hall began to join in. Whether genuinely at Chesters expense, or to simply please the older boys, the party wasn’t sure. Chester frantically pulled his shorts up, mortified. The party was less than amused, and proceeded to clutch their gym clothes to their chest, and high tail it to the boys bathroom at the end of the locker room, where nearly a quarter of the other boys in their class were waiting for a chance to use the stall next (and it wasn’t because it was after lunchtime).

That was the routine for the rest of the week. The new class waiting in long lines to change in the stalls, or awkwardly change out it the open, like too easy prey in the daylight.

That first friday Coach Rowlins anounced something that caused stomachs to drop.

No one was to use the bathroom to change unless they had a note from a parent saying they couldn’t do so in the locker room. It was a grateful luxury the party now realized they may have taken for granted.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad.” Mike said to the group, all too sure of himself. Dustin and Lucas resigned themselves.

That weekend Mike spent the night at Wills’ house and the two did homework together. They were lucky to be in the same math class  but Will found their teacher, Ms. Barwick, hard to understand. She taught as if everyone already knew what she was saying, like she was telling the class how she solved the problem, but not explaining how she did it. He just felt lost the whole time and it frustrated him because he was supposed to be really good at school. The textbook wasn’t any help either, because he would just end up doodling in it whenever her monotone voice caused his mind to drift. Will thought about going to the counselors office and switching classes, but he and Mike already only had one other class together, English, but Lucas was in that class too. Mike got lucky and had at least one of the party members in each of his classes, and Will didn’t like the idea of sharing their only other class together with Lucas.

Will sat cross-legged with his back against the wooden headboard of his bed.

“Did you finish the bottom half of the page?” Mike was laying on his stomach with his geometry textbook open in front of him and his binder and homework sheet beside it. His ankles were crossed and he was propping himself up on his elbows and chewing on the eraser tip of his pencil.

Will looked down at his own homework sheet, the half he was supposed to do not even close to being finished. He looked down at Mike who was laying at his feet. He realized suddenly that he literally always looked up at Mike. Mike was significantly taller than him and it didn’t help that he was the smallest in their friend group. The only time he looked down at Mike was when they were in his room like they are now. Will sighed. He slammed the textbook shut and put his binder aside.

“Come on Will it’s easy. Come here, which ones eating you?” Mike had sat up and faced Will, taking Will’s binder and looking at the nearly blank sheet of paper. Mike furrowed his brows, ready to give Will a pep talk when he noticed something peeking out of his binder. It was a sheet of paper with writing in Mrs. Byers’ handwriting. He slid it out further and saw that it read ‘Dear Coach Rowlins’.

Mike looked up at Will and Will looked from Mike to his binder, and quickly snatched the binder away from Mikes hand.

“You actually asked your mom to write you a note?” Mike’s words were loud in the previous silence. Will shrugged and tucked the letter carefully back into place. It wasn’t a big deal.

“I have real medical reasons. I can’t- i’m not comfortable and if i don’t have to then i shouldn’t. You’ve seen how the juniors and seniors are.”

Mike shook his head.

“Everyone will know and they’ll make fun of you even worse. At least if you change with everyone else, no one would care as much since we’re all in the same boat.”

“What difference does it make? I’m already zombie boy and…and you know. What’s one more nickname?”

“Trust me, Will. It’ll be easier if we all stick together. Then it won’t be so bad.”

Mike stared intently at him, urging, and Will was defeated.

“Okay. But you’re doing my math homework for the rest of the week.”

“At least watch me so you can see how i do it.”

Will glanced from Mikes careful gaze to his homework page, most of the problems effortlessly solved.

“Deal.”

For the next hour and a half the two boys sat hunched over on Wills bed, Mike like a teacher, explaining each step he made and why he made it. Will felt much better going into math class that monday, but his unease for gym class didn’t go away.

The locker room was cramped more so than ever now that all the boys had to change in there. The party of four made their way to the lockers as they did that first day, only this time they actually began to strip. They looked awkward and felt awkward, wondering just how many eyes were on them. Lucas and Dustin were smart enough to open some of the empty lockers around them to block anyones view. Mike and Will were beside each other, but the lockers around them were occupied. Will looked up at Mike, who gave him a small “don’t think about it smile”. Will unbuttoned his pants, fidgeting with the button, and zipped the zipper down. He shimmied out of his pants. Mike did the same, stepping out of his. They both pulled their gym shorts on and felt a little better. Mike changed his shirt, and Will did the same.

Dustin let out a laugh and gestured his head to Wills shirt. Will looked down at himself and then proceeded to swivel his head around like an owl. He had put his shirt on backwards. Will laughed it off as Mike reached over and pulled out the tag from Wills chest. Will shoved him off and raised his shirt over his head, exposing his stomach, but was cut off by a wolf whistle from not too far away. He quickly pulled his shirt back over himself and turned toward the source of the intrusion.

“Look what we have here. A school of guppies swimming in the big pond.”

It was Tommy and his couple of goons. The prime predators of the boys locker room. Tommy was a junior now, a little taller, more muscular and handsome as ever. Like the devil. No one at Hawkins high would say he was the friendliest person in the town, but sometime during the summer before the party entered high school, Tommy had become meaner than ever before. Where in the past he would just stir up trouble, now he actively sought it out.

“Actually guppies don’t swim in schools, fish do.”

Lucas smacked Dustin on the shoulder, and he threw his hands up defensively with a regretful look of “i couldn’t help it”.

“What was that?” They had Tommy’s full attention now. Dustin didn’t respond as the normally loud commotion of the locker room began to die down, anticipating the attack that was surely to come. Tommy looked back at the group of four boys, sizing them up with glee.

“Sinclair, didn’t the school give you a separate room for you to change in?” He asked as if it were a genuine question, and turned to his two friends, who gave comical 'gee i don’t know’ expressions.

Tommy gave a cursory glance toward Will, then looked blankly forward. He loudly exclaimed-

“This boys head’s on backwards! They don’t call him Zombie Boy for nothing now do they? Oh wait! My mistake. He just doesn’t have mommy here to dress him right.”

Laughter broke out as everyone turned to Will, who still hadn’t fixed his shirt.

“You better take that back Tommy.” Mike glared with all the bravery his lanky 5'7" frame could give him.

“Yeah and we’re not guppies. Were ninth graders now which means-”

Tommy cut Dustin off with a harsh Slam! Of metal from one of the locker doors he so smartly left open. The air was palpable.

Tommy breezed forward, his voice like gravel. He was just talking to them. No show for everyone else to hear.

“I’ve got another two years with you dweebs. It’s in your best interest to stay out of my way.”

Dustin was grabbed by the shirt, but instead of Tommy yanking him towards forward like he thought the older boy would, he simply leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Make a fool of me again. And i’ll be sure to give you your old smile back.”

Tommy let go and stepped back, amused with himself.

“And you. Little Frankenstein.”

Tommys eyes were on Will, a malicious smile on his face.

“I suggest you let coach Rowlins know you’ll be changing in the bathroom from now on. On account of all your medical reasons. You don’t want to infect all of us in here now do you Byers?”

Will looked around nervously but saw no one; all too conscious of the ears that might have heard the older boy.

“Do you?” Tommy’s voice was firmer now. He wanted an answer. Will looked up at him and shook his head.

“Right. Well boys you better get on out there. Physical Ed is important for your growing bodies.” Tommy walked away with his two shadows in tow.

Lockers slammed shut and the atmosphere became polarizing as boys rushed out of the room to continue with their day.

Will stood rigid, and Dustin and Lucas looked drained of all enthusiasm.

“You were right Mike. It wasn’t so bad, it was worse.”

Will gave Mike one last defeated look before heading out the locker room, not even bothering to check if his friends were following him. Mike watched Will leave, a sad confusion eating at him.

[spookybooscarystorytime]

Princess | A Creepypasta

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Princess | A Creepypasta

Princess

Ever wondered if things can just be born evil? In this enlightened age of ours, concepts like good and evil are often painted as outmoded, archaic even. According to modern thought, people (animals too, obviously) are simply products of their environment and no more responsible for their actions than a twig in a stream. But I know better. Some things are just born bad.

About ten years ago, we had a German shepherd named Duchess that had a litter of puppies – seven in all. Six looked like any other shepherd you’ve ever seen, the seventh was a snowy white. Not a true albino, just white-furred with a black nose and blue eyes.

There was never any doubt about which one we were keeping out of that litter. We named her Princess.

Before the end of six months, any plans we had about giving away or selling the others became a moot point, as all of the others were dead. We’d just find them at a rate of about one a month, not mangled or anything, just dead as if they’d died in their sleep. At first, we thought maybe their mother, it being her first litter and all, was accidentally crushing or smothering them.

Later, we had no doubt as to what had killed them.

Within a year, she came to dominate her mother, her father (tough old alpha that he was), and to a degree, us too. Her parents shied away from her. When we put out their food, she ate till her heart’s content, unchallenged by the other two. Once I tried to shoo her away and let the other two eat. She snarled at me, baring those perfect white fangs to her incongruously black gums and loosing a growl so deep that I felt it in my guts more than heard it.

After that, I left her alone too.

I’ve often wondered if the parents of serial killers know they have a monster in the making. I mean, sure, some of them are to blame for how their kids turn out, products of fucked up households with systematic abuse of all possible flavors, but then there are the ones that seem to be true aberrations. It’s those families I’m curious about. Do they smile and laugh and pretend that everything’s fine?

I know that we sure did. We downplayed the weirdness around Princess, tried to rationalize her behavior, the bizarre things she’d do, like killing rabbits and leaving them hung up in the bushes behind our house.

“Some dogs do that to show they love you, cats too,” my father would say. “To them, it’s just bringing you food.”

To me, it looked like she was taunting us. Just like the puppies years earlier, not one of those rabbits ever had a mark on it.

Princess, just like her mom and dad, was well looked after and never hurt for a meal, so it wasn’t as if she were hunting for food. Her innumerable kills were always untouched. No, the only thing I ever saw her eat was a kitten.

We had some feral cats in the woods around our house and one momma cat had a litter in our tool shed. “Feral” really is stretching it; most of them were tame enough to be petted, this momma being among them. I returned home from school one day and headed around back to look in on them.

The door to the shed was open and inside I found Princess, her jaws pink from her feast. As she devoured that last kitten, her beautiful blue eyes never left mine.

The momma we found displayed on what I’d come to think of as the “rabbit bush.”

The tipping point came that same year when we found her sire dead. He was the best dog we’d ever had, that we ever will have. We woke one Saturday morning to find him in the backyard lying dead without a mark like so many rabbits before him. I can count the number of times I ever saw my father cry on one hand. That was one of them.

That was also when we found out how she killed so cleanly: she strangled her prey. Like a jaguar. The fur at her father’s neck was still wet with her saliva.

We spent that morning burying that good old faithful dog, and then he sent me and my mom away on some pretense. No words were spoken, but there was no doubt about what he intended to do.

I’m sure that there are some of you reading this that will find the notion of putting an animal down to be abominable, but what other options did he have, really? Take her to an animal shelter? Give her to some other family? Who could do that and go to sleep with a clear conscience?

As it turned out, we weren’t getting any sleep that night regardless of our decision.

We spent that afternoon at my uncle’s house. Once when I came in from playing to get a glass of water, I overheard my mom telling my uncle that she sometimes wondered if the dog was possessed or something. I’d sometimes wondered the same thing. Later that evening not long before sunset, we got a call from dad. Apparently, the deed was done.

By the time we arrived home, he’d already washed up and changed clothes, but there was little he could have done to hide his wounds, even less to hide the haunted look in his eyes. Both his arms and one leg were bandaged and that was bad enough, but what’s stuck with me all these years later was just how terrified he looked. It wasn’t until I’d actually been through combat that I recognized that expression – it’s how men look after they’ve stared death straight in the face.

My father never talked about it, but he’d drafted a friend from up the street to come help, and it’s from him that I get this part of the story.

Princess was many things – bloodthirsty and evil chief among them – but stupid wasn’t among them. In that, if nothing else, she took after her father. Her dad, Rocky, was famous for letting himself into the house if it was storming out. He’d figured out how to paw open the sliding glass door out to the patio. What was really astounding is that he also had the presence of mind to close it behind him.

Not being stupid, she knew something was up and made herself scarce, disappearing into the woods. Dad, not wanting to put this off and being in full-on revenge mode, called his friend from down the road and filled him in, so off on the hunt the two of them went.

In his own words, “She was laying for us.”

If it sounds absurd to say that Princess lay in ambush, then I’ve failed at conveying just how wrong everything about her truly was. She led them on a chase through those woods, barking whenever it seemed the stupid humans had lost her again. Then she laid up beneath an overhang on the creek bank just where the path crossed it and waited.

She was on my father the instant he stepped down into the creek, grabbing his leg and making him fall headfirst into the water. Then she went straight for his throat. My dad had already lost his rifle at that point and he grabbed her with both hands to try to fend her off, wrestling with 115 pounds of teeth, claws, and muscle in a foot and a half of water, Princess savaging his arms all the while.

At some point, he managed to work his legs up between him and the dog and kick her away from him, providing his friend with a clean shot, which he took, catching Princess through the chest. He put a second round through her head point blank. He then helped my dad back home and to the emergency room, telling him he’d go back to see after Princess once they got home.

“She can rot where she is,” was all my dad had to say on that subject.

After they got back from the hospital, our neighbor went back on his ATV to pick up Princess for burial. He was a dog lover like us and it just didn’t seem right to him to leave her. If he’d spent as much time tiptoeing around as we had, he might have felt differently.

“She flat wasn’t there,” he said. “No blood trail. Nothin.” He also said that after he’d been there poking around for a few minutes, he noticed something else strange – no birds. It was dead quiet the way the woods sometimes get right before a bad storm blows in. Wisely, he got right the hell out of there.

There was a storm coming, all right.

That night, Duchess came pawing at the back door wanting in, something she’d never once done in all the time she’d been with us, and I had a dream.

In it, I was playing football in the backyard with some buddies and ran over to where a bad throw had landed near Rocky’s grave. As I reached for it, Princess’s head shoved up out of the ground to grab my hand. I woke up with a jolt and was promptly scared out of roughly ten more years of life by the silhouette of a German shepherd in the hallway.

It was Duchess, of course. She was sitting in the hallway whining and wagging her tail nervously. She was looking back toward the front of the house. I walked over to her and placed my hand on her big doggy head and said, “What is it, girl?”

That’s when I heard the distinctive sound of claws on glass. Something was pawing at the patio door.

Thoroughly terrified, I grabbed Duchess by the collar and dragged her along with me to my parents’ room, shutting the door behind me. I was 14, I was terrified, but even in that terror retreating to my parents’ room wasn’t just for the security of mommy and daddy. That’s where the guns were.

I woke them up and told them what I’d heard.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” my mother said. Dad got up and locked the bedroom door and said, “Y’all lock yourselves in the bathroom.”

I heard the patio door slide open. If any of the rest of us had any doubts about what had just come into the house, Duchess sure didn’t. The only thing she’d ever feared in this world was her own pup. A deep rumble of a growl vibrated in the floor beneath our bare feet and Duchess’s bladder let go as if on cue. Mine wasn’t far from doing the same.

What followed was a six hour exercise in pure terror, punctuated by snarling attacks on the bedroom door, crashes through the rest of the house as Princess found more things to break, whispered prayers from my mother, and litanies of curses from my father as another of his attempted forays out of the bedroom were thwarted.

We were without a phone. The one on my parents’ nightstand was dead. We’d later find the phone line to have been ripped out at the main box. My mom suggested that we try to make it to the car and above and beyond everything else, it was my father’s response to that idea that really scared me. Of the three of us, he was supposed to be the rational thinker, but what we got instead was:

“Honey, I think that’s what it wants us to do.”

As the world through the windows turned from black to grey, a quiet fell over the house. Mom and I watched through the windows, craning our heads in an attempt to get an eye on the patio door, but try as we might, the best we could manage was a view of most of the patio – more than enough concealment for a dog to slink in or out, even a big one like Princess.

After an hour of silence, my dad quietly opened the bedroom door. I remember thinking what a useless gesture any attempt at stealth was. Dog senses are so much more acute than ours that he might as well have fired a twenty-one gun salute. Dad stopped in the hallway and shooed me back to the bedroom. “Don’t come out until I say, OK?” Carefully, he made his way through the house to the patio door. We heard him shut it before he shouted back to us to stay in the bedroom till he told us to come out.

Through the door, I could hear him moving around and what seemed to be him dropping things into a garbage bag. After about thirty minutes, he gave us the all clear.

What greeted us was a disaster – ripped up cushions and pillows, destroyed furniture, shredded papers and books all over the floor, but most terrible were the smears of gore all over everything. My mother wondered aloud at what she’d drug into the house. Grim-faced, my father did not answer. He simply turned and headed out the back to bury Rocky for a second time.

We cleaned up as best we could while dad drove down to our neighbor’s house to make all the appropriate calls. After all these years. I still wonder what portion of home owner’s insurance covers “attack by undead demon ghost dog”.

Unspoken, we all wondered what the night would bring.

As it turned out, we never got a repeat, but Duchess never left the house again.

Time rolled on.

Occasionally, we’d find a new “present” on the rabbit bush. Just a friendly reminder, another token of Princess’s abiding “love.”

About two years into college, my dad called to tell me that our neighbor had passed. “Heart attack in his sleep, the coroner says,” said my dad, but what we were both thinking was “Not a mark.”

There are plenty of nights where I wonder what the last thing was to pass before that old bachelor’s eyes. I can guarantee you it stared right back. I’ve seen firsthand how it feeds.

Not long after that, my folks put the house up for sale. I sort of acted as go-between on that deal. About a week after the new owners moved in, I received a call from the man of the house. He wanted to know if we’d left any pets behind when we moved. Already fearing the answer, I asked him why he asked.

“Oh, me and the kids keep seeing this white shepherd in the woods. Pretty!”

Pretty.

Original Story: Princess