#and that doing so is like. making more of an impact than showing up to a protest

[pretentious-blonde]

stay for dinner?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was

warnings: steve self-sabotaging, crying

a/n: part 4, can be read as a standalone too. PLS give me ideas for these two if you liked them!! they currently have my heart <3 (may or may not write nsfw, if i get an idea for that, so be on the lookout!)

series masterlist

Steve set a freshly rewound tape on the countertop. The sign on the wall stating: Be kind: Rewind, clearly had not been making an impact on the general public. And if that wasn’t enough, he was desperately trying not to roll his eyes as a certain curly-haired boy to his left, perched on the desk as if it was a lounge chair. 

Dustin had been pleading with him for the past ten minutes—some elaborate scheme involving a comic book store in the next town over. Steve had already told him “no” at least four times, but the word didn’t seem to register in the boy's vocabulary. He became aware he was fighting a losing battle as the kid refused to budge. 

“Please?” Dustin implored again, swinging his legs idly as he watched Steve rewind the day’s returns.

“For the last time,” Steve muttered, eyeing a slightly worn Back to the Future case with mild dismay, “I already told you no.” 

He was trying to figure out how he could make his declaration any clearer. 

Dustin huffed, crossing his arms. “I can’t drive yet, remember?”

“Yeah, well, that’s not my problem,” Steve shot back, sliding the VHS into its designated slot behind the counter. 

“I’m telling you, it’s only like a fifteen-minute drive. Tops.” Dustin glanced at the clock pointedly. “Plus, your shift ends soon. What else are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know—go pick up my girlfriend?” Steve flashed him a wry smile, letting the term roll off his tongue with pride. 

Girlfriend.

It still felt new, but it also felt good. He thought it would take longer for him to assimilate to his new title as boyfriend, but he fell into the role as easily as breathing. Something that felt completely natural.

No longer was he the designated driver for his friends after work, he did the stuff that boyfriends do. And that included spending most evenings with you.

There were a few times you insisted he needed to spend time with his own friends, but he still wished you were there. Hopefully, you would be comfortable enough to tag along with them in the future. God knows he was more than willing to show you off. 

“Oh yeah?” Dustin sat up, his posture straightening. “So it’s official now?”

A tiny grin tugged at Steve’s mouth. “Yeah.” He closed a drawer of tapes and rested his hands on the counter, staring at Dustin with a slightly smug expression. “It’s official.”

“Good for you, man. Seriously. That’s nice.” He said, seemingly out of obligation rather than pure interest. Then, snapping back to the real topic at hand. “But I’m not leaving until you agree to take me to the comic book store.”

“That’s like—” Steve glanced at the clock above the television sets for rent, “an hour from now.”

“Yep,” Dustin said, unabashed. “I’m persistent.”

“Look,” Steve sighed, massaging the tension in his temples. “She’s coming here once my shift is over. I can’t just bail on her to drive you around.”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Then bring her along! Maybe she’ll like it!”

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening.” A short laugh escaped Steve before he could stop it. “I’m not dragging her to a comic book shop just so you can blow your allowance on some special-edition nonsense.”

“Hey, it’s not nonsense!” Dustin protested. “They have the rare issues I can’t find anywhere else. And who knows, maybe your girlfriend’s into comics!”

“Why do I even argue with you?” Steve groaned to himself, returning to the stack of tapes in front of him—anything to have an excuse not to keep looking at Dustin’s pleading face. “You just keep going and going. It’s exhausting.”

“That’s because I know you’ll give in eventually,” Dustin quipped, flashing that self-assured grin that made Steve want to either adopt him or toss him out a window—possibly both.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Steve insisted, though the conviction in his voice wavered slightly.

Dustin was right about one thing: Steve did have a tendency to cave when it came to the kids, especially the ones he’d practically helped raise. But, as he filed away the last of the returns, a pang of guilt rippled through him. 

He didn’t want to let you down. Truly, he didn’t. You were swinging by just to see him. It was a Sunday after all, so he was finishing early, and he wanted to spend as long as he could with you. 

Unfortunately, he did feel a little regretful about letting his friend down. Perhaps he was spending a bit too much time with you—which wasn’t a crime—but he was struggling to recall the last time he spent alone time with Dustin. 

The kid must have caught the trace of hesitation in Steve’s expression. Finally, a crack in his armour. 

“Look,” he said, in a rare moment of sincerity, “just ask her, okay? If she says no, I’ll drop it.”

Steve mulled that over, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he relented, not hiding his exasperation. “I’ll let you pitch your case when she gets here.”

Dustin pumped a fist triumphantly. “Yes! You won’t regret this.”

“I regret a lot of things, Henderson,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Now let me finish up so I can actually clock out at a decent time.”

“Deal,” Dustin agreed, but he made no move to vacate the desk. Instead, he just kept swinging his legs, watching with interest as Steve tried to busy himself with the returns.

The kid was relentless—he had to give him that.

He was half-leaning against the counter when you walked in, the lazy Sunday light spilling through the windows, making him look almost golden.

You instantly spotted him, features slightly fatigued but nonetheless tender. The boy who inserted himself into your daunting new life, making you feel less alone. The boy who made you feel safe whenever your eyes met—warm, reassuring, sometimes bashful if you caught him at the right moment. 

Your gaze drifted to the curly-haired kid perched on the front desk, chattering away while Steve fiddled with cases. You hadn’t met him yet, but had an inkling as to who it might be from you and Steve’s many conversations. 

The second Steve caught sight of you, the slight crease in his brow eased, and a genuine smile lit up his face. He straightened, set the tapes aside, and practically melted as you approached, arms opening to fit you just right.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm hug. His vest brushed against your cheek. You tilted your head just enough to feel the soft press of his lips against your temple. 

Even though the two of you were official, your cheeks still reddened at his action. It often seemed he didn’t mind that you had company, or maybe he just didn’t care. Or perhaps he didn’t realise how brazen he could be.

Either way, you weren’t going to stop his displays of affection. You enjoyed knowing he was proud to call you his.

“Hi,” you said quietly, relishing the way he lingered in that hug, not quite wanting to let go just yet.

“This is Dustin,” he turned, gesturing to the boy with the curly hair. “I told you about him, remember?”

“Right!” You offered the boy a friendly smile, glad your assumption was correct. “So great to finally meet you. Steve mentions you all the time.”

Dustin stared for a moment, then blinked like he was recalibrating. 

“Um… hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly timid. “Yeah, you too.”

That made Steve grin even wider. 

Dustin, rendered speechless? He never thought he would see the day. He looked at his awestruck expression and glanced over at you smugly. 

Yeah, he did that. He isn’t quite sure how, but he did that.

“You ready to go?” you asked, glancing up at him over your shoulder. At your question, Steve let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair nervously. 

“Apparently, someone wants me to be their personal chauffeur,” he said, with a pointed look at Dustin. “Says I need to drive him to a comic book store.”

“A comic book store? But there’s one like four streets over, right?”

Steve spread his hands in exasperation. “Exactly what I said!”

Dustin threw his hands up. “That one sucks! Their selection is terrible and they get new shipments like once a month!”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. He sounds like a tiny professor with the fervour in his voice. Steve shot you a look of abject guilt, like he was already imagining leaving you hanging.

“Would I be the world’s biggest jerk if I did this?” he asked, the uncertainty evident in his tone. He hated to be the one to make decisions like this, picking sides and disappointing someone in the process. 

“No, honestly, it’s fine.” Gently, you shook your head. “It’s still early, right?” You gestured to the clock on the wall—three o’clock, give or take a few minutes. “I’ve been all over the place today, honestly an hour or so just to get everything in order would be amazing.”

“I mean…” Dustin started, looking between you and Steve, not sure if you're just being nice or actually had something to do. “You’re welcome to come with?”

But you waved him off with an apologetic smile. “Thanks, but seriously, I’ve got a lot to catch up on at home. You two enjoy, please, don’t let me stop you.”

Dustin beamed at you, grateful for the positive turn of events. Steve, on the other hand, still looked torn, torn between not wanting to inconvenience you and also not wanting to bail on his friend. 

“Alright,” he relented, exhaling in relief when he realised you were genuinely okay with this. “I’ll… yeah, I’ll drop him off, and we’ll probably poke around for a bit if they really have something he’s looking for.”

“No worries.” You leaned forward, reaching for his hand, not missing the smitten glaze in his eyes as you squeezed it. “Swing by mine after, okay? I should be done by then.”

Steve’s posture relaxed, gratitude colouring his eyes. “Okay,” he murmured, “deal.” 

He leaned in, cupping your jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips this time—a sweet, unhurried gesture that made your cheeks flush—again.

There was a shuffle behind him, and you could sense Dustin being extremely polite (or maybe just temporarily stunned) enough not to comment. Steve pulled back smiling, as you made your way to the exit.

“See you, Steve,” you said, backing toward the door. You cast a quick wave at Dustin. “Later, Dustin.”

“Uh, bye,” Dustin managed, raising a hand in farewell.

And with that, you slipped outside, leaving Steve to shoulder his shift into driver mode—though, judging by the fond look on his face, he wasn’t half as annoyed about it anymore. 

He just got to rub it in Dustin's face, that yes, he had a sweet girlfriend. And yes, she really was that nice. All the time. Probably when she shouldn't be.

As far as he was concerned, if you needed it, he could haul Henderson around for an afternoon to give you some free time. 

“You,” Dustin said, pointing at Steve once you were gone, “are one lucky dude.”

Steve snorted, but it came out more like an affectionate laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmured, casting a glance at the door you’d just left through. “Yeah, I am.”

Steve drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he cruised down the main road, Dustin rambling away in the passenger seat. The kid’s feet bounced on the floor mat, all brimming energy. Steve had to admit—it was nice to see him so pumped. But that didn’t stop him from cringing slightly at every new question that spilled out of his mouth. 

Right now he was the subject of a very intense interrogation, and while he had mentioned he was seeing someone new, clearly that was not enough information for the teenager sitting next to him. 

“So,” Dustin said, leaning forward, “this girl—your girlfriend—what does she do?”

“She’s writing for the paper in town.” He said, feeling a surge of pride in his chest as he got to gush about your achievements. “Gonna be a big-shot journalist someday. That’s what she wants, anyway.”

Dustin let out a short laugh, amused in a way that made Steve raise an eyebrow. “Why’re you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m just—” Dustin shook his head, lips quirked in a grin. “You and your… type.”

Steve gave him a side-eye glance. “My type?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dustin scoffed, half-exasperated, half-teasing. “Smart writer girls. You know—the go-getter, brainy ones.”

Steve’s initial instinct was to shrug it off, but something nagged at him.

He felt a twinge of déjà vu that he didn’t love. 

“Yeah, okay, I can sorta see what you mean.” He spoke cooly, but the heat rising in his chest was anything but. 

“Admit it,” Dustin pressed on. “You like girls that are just a little… out of your league.”

Steve bristled, tightening his grip on the wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, think about it." Dustin shrugged, apparently not noticing the defensiveness in Steve’s tone. "The girls you’ve dated. They’re super smart, super driven. It’s cool how you have managed to pull this off twice.”

Steve forced a laugh, though it felt hollow on his tongue. 

Pull this off? That the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Right, yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Henderson.” He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach. “Well, if they like me, then I must be doing something right.”

“For sure. No denying you’ve come a long way.” Dustin nodded, tapping the dashboard with one finger. “Remember how you used to act at Scoops? Man, you were just—”

Steve groaned, cutting him off as he steered into a small parking lot beside a rundown building with a neon sign advertising Comics & Collectibles. Not wanting to relive failed moments from his youth any longer than he had to. 

“Alright, we’re here.” He put the car into park, his posture now rigid. “You’ve got thirty minutes, max. Then we’re outta here.”

“Thirty minutes?” Dustin repeated, eyes bulging. “But—”

“Non-negotiable,” Steve said flatly, giving him a pointed look, suddenly in a sour mood. “I’ve got places to be.”

“Fine.” Dustin grumbled under his breath but ultimately acquiesced, grabbing his backpack and popping open the door. “Thirty. Starting… now.”

He hopped out, the door slamming shut behind him. Steve exhaled, jaw still tense. He watched the kid dart across the lot and pull open the shop’s glass door with excitement.

Alone at last, Steve let his head fall back against the headrest. 

Are you really that much out of his league? The question looped around in his mind like a broken record.

He could laugh it off—he had enough practise doing that—but he started remembering how he felt so inadequate around Nancy. 

You made him feel needed, cared for, that much was certainly true. But how long would you need him, really? 

The notion stirred up old insecurities he’d thought he’d buried. 

The rational side of his mind told him he had nothing to worry about. If you liked him—chose him—that was enough, right?

Sighing, he pulled out his watch and glanced at the time. Twenty-nine minutes until he could drop Dustin off and head straight to your place. He suddenly wished the clock would run faster. 

Because if there was one thing he couldn’t wait to do, it was lose himself in you. If only for the evening.

Your familiar doorstep was supposed to feel welcoming, as it had so many times before, but Steve’s mind was a bundle of half-formed worries as he stood in the familiar space. 

He hated to admit when things got to him, but Dustin’s teasing—albeit lighthearted—had, indeed, gotten to him. The doubts clouding his mind like a soft static he couldn’t push away. 

The one statement he kept circling back to was the whole "out of his league" idea. I mean, yeah, from the outside looking in, it could be the case. But he had something to offer, right?

If nothing else was true, he at least had a decent enough face, and his personality had come a long way from high school. Hopefully, other people could see that too. 

He forced his mind into silence as he took a deep breath, knocking twice in quick succession. 

When you opened the door, dressed in soft, comfortable clothes that looked unfairly adorable on you, he felt something in his chest unclench. Even on a lazy Sunday—one where you had every right to be tired from your own job—you still radiated a classic warmth, one that he was selfishly drinking up, grateful to be the one basking in it. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling so easily that a bit of the tension in his shoulders melted.

“Hey, angel” he echoed, stepping inside when you ushered him through the threshold. The air hit him first—warm and fragrant, hinting at something savoury on the stove. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

Little did he know, you had already taken care of most of your errands that morning. Knowing you’d be spending the afternoon with Steve, you’d gotten up a little earlier than usual to make sure everything was in order. But when you saw the desperate look on Dustin’s face as he pleaded with your boyfriend to take him to the store, an idea sparked. A little surprise for him—one you hoped would land well.

“Figured I’d make dinner.” You gave a pleased little shrug. “We don��t always get Sundays like this, and I know you had to work, so…”

“Wait,” he said, blinking, “you made dinner?” 

His eyes softened as he took in your words, letting them settle in his chest. He tried not to feel indebted—but God, he wished he stopped to pick up flowers or something.

“Yup,” you confirmed, leading him toward the kitchen. “Nothing fancy. Just has to reduce on the stove for a while longer, but I wanted it ready for when you came by.”

Steve’s heart twisted in two directions at once. On one hand, it was the sweetest gesture, and certainly one that should have put his mind at ease. On the other, his mind kept whispering to him. He questioned if he was even worth this kind of effort.

The bluntness of the thought shocked him a little, but he couldn’t render it completely false. He felt like he owed you something. 

“You didn’t have to go all out for me,” he murmured, smiling at you in an almost apologetic manner.

“I know.” You reached up to brush a stray bit of hair off his forehead. “I wanted to.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Thanks, angel,” he said softly, the pet name rolling off his tongue with more tenderness than he intended. Like he wasn’t supposed to be using it. “Seriously.”

You tugged him gently into the living room, where he sank down onto the couch, exhaling a sigh of relief. The day had felt so long—the slow hours, Dustin’s energy, the drive out of town—but now, in the familiarity of your apartment, it all felt calm. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right. 

You curled against him, fitting neatly at his side as he draped an arm around you. The soft haze of a lamp cast a cosy halo over the bookshelf across the room, the very one he’d helped you build not long ago. He couldn’t help but notice the extra row of spines he didn’t remember seeing before.

“Hey,” he teased, nudging your head and gesturing to the neatly lined novels. “I thought you said no more books until you’d read all the ones you owned.”

You lifted your head to follow his gaze, a faint grin tugging at your lips. “I did read them. Which means I’m allowed new ones.”

“All of them? In, what—two weeks?”

He barely finished reading Salinger in senior year, and that took him months to work through. 

“About that,” you said, sounding almost sheepish. “They were good, and I got on a roll. You know how it is when a book just sucks you in?”

He didn’t really, but now he felt as though he should. 

“That’s…impressive.” He replied safely, not wanting to bring down your mood with his lack of literature knowledge. Especially when you seemed so pleased that he was there in the first place. 

You used that moment to shift closer, your cheek pressing against the broad line of his shoulder. He felt the warmth you emitted, and if he allowed himself, he could imagine that maybe you enjoyed his company as much as he loved yours. 

“So,” you said, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. “How was work? How’s Dustin?”

Steve hesitated, momentarily tripping over the idea that you’d be interested in the mundane details of his shift or the kid’s comic book haul. But the way you were watching him—like you actually cared—made him sigh and lean into it.

“Pretty standard, y’know?” He ran his free hand over his jaw, trying to sound casual. “Dustin got what he wanted, as usual. He’s like a force of nature—hard to say no.”

You smiled, amused. “That kid seems unstoppable.”

“Definitely unstoppable,” Steve agreed, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Eventually, after his debrief of today's events, you got up to check on dinner, stirring the pot and releasing another wave of that delicious smell. He watched, heart clenching again with gratitude and guilt. 

He could see how careful you were, minding the heat, adding a pinch of seasoning, taking the time to make something special just for him.

He wondered if he could do anything to help, something to be useful again. 

It felt so domestic that for a second he let himself imagine a future where this could be the norm—where the two of you shared little traditions, teased each other about groceries, woke up side by side. Equally happy with what the other had to offer. 

Soon enough, you both ended up at the small kitchen table, plates filled with a hearty meal that made him groan with delight after each bite. You just laughed, pleased by his genuine appreciation. 

“Good?” you asked, grinning as he nodded enthusiastically, mouth still full. 

It was good. Really good. Made only better by the fact that you made it for him.

Why didn’t he think of something like this?

At this rate, he was going to have to pull a screw loose from your bookshelf just so he could prove himself again. 

When you’d eaten more than enough to satiate your hunger, you cleaned up together, bumping hips in the process, trading playful glances as you washed and dried the dishes.

He followed you back to the couch, happy to follow where you dragged him hand first. You spent the rest of the evening chatting aimlessly about books, random gossip from your workplace, and his occasional run-ins with Robin or the kids. 

There was nothing particularly grand or momentous about it; just a gentle closeness. Though he was worried it was too mundane, if his crappy jokes were enough to keep this thing going. 

All too soon, the clock on the wall struck a sober reminder: Monday morning was lurking around the corner, and you gave him an apologetic look.

“I hate to kick you out,” you said softly, “but I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He pretended to huff in annoyance, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile. You were the one with a real job, after all. “Responsibilities and all that.”

At the door, you hugged him, chin hooking over his shoulder. He could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on your jumper, mixed with the lingering aroma of dinner. It felt safe in your arms—safer than he’d felt all day.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair, voice thick with more emotion than he intended to reveal.

“For what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, sensing his unease.

“For dinner,” he shrugged, trying to hide the lump in his throat. “For letting me hang out… for, y’know, being you.”

A smile lit up your features, and you rose on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

It should’ve been reassuring, but that old worry nipped at him once again. 

You gave him a playful nudge out into the hallway. “Drive safe, okay?”

“Always,” he promised, mustering a half-smirk. But the moment the door closed behind him, the warmth drained away like someone had shut off a heat lamp.

By the time he slid into his car and started the engine, he was already thinking about Dustin’s words, "girls out of his league." 

Mentally, he scolded himself. But the thought stuck like glue, stubborn and unmoving. He glanced at your apartment window—light still glowing from inside—and his chest ached with longing. 

You liked him. You even cooked for him, fully aware that he would have been just as content with a crappy pizza or diner fries. 

So why couldn’t he let himself just be happy?

With a quiet sigh, he pulled away from the curb, leaving the comfort of your home behind. And as he drove through the sleepy streets of Hawkins, he couldn’t quite loose the hollow sense that he was missing something.

Good things always had a way of escaping him, and he couldn’t imagine how this would be any different.

You’ve never felt unsettled since moving to Hawkins—at least, not until now. 

Work at the Hawkins Post can be demanding, but those pressures were somewhat tangible: deadlines, edits, the joyous feeling of being undermined for basic input. You can handle all that. But suddenly finding your supposedly devoted boyfriend slipping through your fingers for reasons you don’t understand? 

That feels far worse than any work stress could ever be.

All week, you’ve told yourself not to overreact. Steve might just be busy or tired or dealing with something personal. You didn’t want to pry, and after coming clean about your own struggles, you assumed he would do the same thing. Take his own advice or whatever. 

But the excuses keep piling up, and you can’t ignore the changes in his behaviour. It started with some half-hearted reasons to hang up the phone in the evenings—when he used to plead with you to stay just little longer—usually ending up with one of you falling asleep on the line, listening out for the others breathing to steady before ending the call. 

The whole week he didn’t even mention spending the weekend together. Usually that was sacred time, with him arguing with Kieth and Robin to please let him have the evening shifts rather than the morning. He enjoyed waking up lazily next to you, not rushing out the door before he had his fill. 

By Saturday, you decide you can’t wait for answers any longer. You head out, crossing the familiar street, eventually pushing open the door to Family Video. Robin’s face pops up from behind the counter, the bell signalling a customer. 

“Hey,” Robin calls, stacking tapes. “If you’re looking for Steve, you just missed him. Morning shift—he took off like ten minutes ago.”

“I know.” You attempt a polite smile. You were already aware of his absence, watching his BMW speed away from the store, feeling even worse when it turned the opposite direction to your place. “I actually, uh… came to see you.”

“Me? Really?” She seemed half-surprised, half-intrigued.

“Yeah. I… I think I need your help.” The words spill out in a rush. You don’t realise how anxious you sound until Robin sets aside her tapes, giving you her full attention. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, but I’m kind of at a loss. You’re Steve’s best friend, and—” You pause, cheeks warming. “I don’t really know many people here yet.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Hey, hey, no need to apologise. What’s going on?” Her eyes narrow, the smallest spark of protectiveness lighting behind them. “Did Steve do something stupid? Because I can give him a good slap if—”

You lift your hands, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s not that. Or… not exactly?” Your voice wavers. “I just—wanted to know if he still… likes me? Because he’s been distant, and I can’t think what I did wrong.”

Robin’s mouth opens on a short laugh, but then she sees you’re serious. 

“Oh. Wait—you’re for real?”

Heat pools in your cheeks. It sounds so ridiculous when you say it out loud, but you press on. You were here already, so if she knew something, you would rather just get this over with. 

“He’s barely returned my calls, and this weekend he hasn’t even tried making plans. Last week I cooked for him—nothing fancy, just dinner—and he acted so weird about it, almost like he wanted to be anywhere else. I keep replaying it in my head, wondering if I came on too strong or something.”

She watches you carefully, reading the tension in your posture, the way your hands keep twisting into your sleeves. 

“Okay, okay,” she says, gentler now. “I promise I’m listening. You think you scared him off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” You look at the floor, biting your lip. “This past week, he’s barely tried to see me at all. Usually he’s so—well, so Steve, you know? But now it’s like he’s ignoring me, except he’s still in town.”

Robin sets aside the tapes completely, leaning her elbows on the counter. Yes, she knew how Steve had been acting, practically besotted with you. So this fast turnaround was odd, but then again, Steve had his moments. Though they usually came with more of an explanation than this. 

“That’s… not good,” she concedes. “But trust me, from an outside perspective, he’s been head over heels for you since day one. My guess is he’s the problem, not you. It might be in that thick skull of his, you know? It doesn’t help that it’s covered with all that hair.”

“I feel so stupid, but I didn’t know who else to ask." You let out a shaky laugh. "I’m just… worried I messed up somehow. I know it’s weird—”

“Hey, you’re not weird.” Robin shakes her head, reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “You’re worried—totally normal. Let me talk to him, okay? I’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Your eyes widen. “No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to cause drama—”

She interrupts you with a wave of her hand. “Drama is my middle name, apparently, thanks to Steve. Let me handle him. I’ll be subtle. Trust me.” 

A mischievous grin tugs at her lips. You have a feeling she’s never been subtle in her life, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Alright.” You sigh. “Only if you’re sure. And please, maybe don’t mention I… came here? I don’t want him thinking I’m this desperate, clingy girlfriend who needs constant reassurance.”

“Desperate? Clingy? He’s been the clingiest guy I’ve ever seen—until now.” She snorts. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know he adores you. He’s probably just… freaking out about something. He’s good at that. Self-sabotage is his specialty.”

The tight knot in your chest loosens just a bit, but her words set you on edge a little. You instantly think that you are the one freaking him out, coming on too strong. But you decide that silence is the best option here. 

“Thank you,” you say, voice still unsteady. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” She offers a supportive smile. “Hey, you’re welcome to drop by anytime, you know? If you wanted someone else to talk to or something, but no pressure.”

“I might take you up on that.” You tell her, relieved. 

“Good. Now go home, put on some music, try to relax. I’ll handle the Harrington situation.”

You’re not entirely sure what that entails, but her confidence is reassuring. After one more grateful nod, you thank her again and head back outside. Not quite feeling relief, but certainly not feeling any worse.

Steve juggled a soda cup in one hand and a stack of tapes in the other. He had the evening off yesterday and had spent it binge watching crappy rom coms while trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest. Trying to find some solace in those mundane guys managing to snag the unattainable, popular girl. They never showed what happened after the whole kiss and get-together thing. Life imitates art in a way.

He also had the day off today—normally something that would have him beaming from the inside out—but he made the decision to spend it alone. A decision that had been laced with anxiety, which now leaked into a mild depression. His nerves overshadowed any relief he felt about his schedule. 

He unlocked the door to Family Video, hoping he’d be able to stash the unchecked tapes and slip out before Robin noticed the cloud hanging over him. No such luck. 

She was early for her shift, waiting at the counter, arms crossed, jaw set. Her eyes locked on him the second he stepped inside.

“You.” She spoke the word like it was a challenge. “Explain yourself.”

He paused, heartbeat picking up, not expecting this level of hostility.

“What did I do now?” he asked cautiously, setting the tapes down. “I planned to bring them back before opening, I swear, I just—”

Robin cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Not that. Your girlfriend came in here yesterday, totally distressed. She thought she did something wrong. Actually asked if she might’ve scared you off by, and I quote, ‘making you dinner.’”

Steve’s stomach flipped. A wave of guilt slammed into him, sharper than he’d expected. He swallowed, remembering how you’d stood in your apartment, smiling so warmly, how you’d carefully stirred a pot of sauce just for him. 

God, he’d been such an idiot.

He thought that you would have been too busy with work this week to notice his silence. He thought he hid his emotions better than that. 

“She thinks that?” he managed to say, voice tight. “She really asked that?”

“Of course she did.” Robin slammed her palm on the counter. “Now, are you freaking out, or what? Because if you are, just say so.”

“Me? Freaking out?” A shaky laugh left Steve’s lips. Freaking out was putting it mildly. “I’m fine, Rob.”

She shook her head. “You’re clearly not,” she persisted. “Last week you’re gushing about your new relationship, and now it’s radio silence. What’s up with you? Spill it.”

He knew there was no getting out of this, well, unless he literally turned and ran out the store. But that seemed a bit extreme and would likely only delay this conversation. 

He dreaded this part. The whole talking about his feelings and his subsequent inadequacies. 

“It’s going to sound dumb,” he muttered, gaze dropping to the floor. 

“More so than usual?” She teased.

“Robin.” 

“Right, no.” She muttered. “Wrong time. Sorry.”

She sighed and walked round the counter so she was standing directly in front of him. Both so she could gauge his reaction and bring him some semblance of comfort. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like…” He trails off, looking away from her pitiful expression.”She’s going places, you know? Really going places. I’m just… here.”

Her expression softened a fraction. “What brought this on?”

Steve felt the memories swirl—Dustin’s pointed remarks, the creeping sense of déjà vu reminding him how Nancy once left him behind. 

“Dustin,” he admitted after a beat. “He said some stuff… about me only dating smart girls who are outta my league. It got stuck in my head, okay?”

“Henderson?” Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “Steve, he’s a kid. A kid with zero concept of normal relationship drama. You’re really letting that get to you?”

He tried to muster a shrug, but his chest felt tight. No matter what angle he looked at it, it was a statement that he couldn’t disprove. 

“He’s not entirely wrong,” he mumbled. “I don’t have a big plan or anything. My job’s okay, but it’s not exactly a career, and I’m certainly not saving big money—there’s no future path. Meanwhile, she’s got all these ideas, ambitions, everything.”

Robin stared, seeming torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him upside the head. 

“God, you’re self-sabotaging again.”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are!” she insisted, stepping forward. “Textbook Harrington behaviour: good thing’s happening, so you panic and decide you don’t deserve it. I just watched her walk out of here looking like someone kicked her puppy. She literally thinks she scared you off.”

Steve’s gut twisted further. He pictured you, eyes glassy with worry, probably replaying every moment you’d spent together. After your heart to heart the other day it became clear that you tended to overthink, he didn’t realise you could be doing that because of him. 

The notion that you blamed yourself made his chest ache. 

“I… I didn’t mean to make her feel that way,” he said, voice hollow.

“So don’t.” Robin pressed her lips together. “Fix it. You’re good at that sort of thing.”

He exhaled shakily, setting the soda on the counter before he spilled it with his shaky hands. “How?”

“You have today off, right?” Robin asked, folding her arms.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“She does too,” Robin replied pointedly. “And it’s not even 10 a.m. yet. So do something nice for her. Show her you’re not running away. Because, believe me, if you keep pulling back, it’s gonna look like you are.”

Steve nodded, trying to will away the tightening in his throat. “What do I even plan? Something big? Flowers? Fancy dinner? She’s already done the cooking thing—”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “You’re not exactly wooing the queen of England. Just do something that says ‘I appreciate you and want to be around you.’ Could be a picnic, a drive, a movie—whatever. Don’t overthink it.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “But that’s kinda my specialty these days.”

“Clearly,” Robin muttered, though her tone was gentler now. “Look, the point is, she’s into you. She made that super obvious. The only person doubting it is you. So cut it out.”

Steve paused, letting her words settle. A small seed of hope unfurled in his chest, reminding him why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, gaze locked on the floor. Then he lifted his head, determined. “I’ll, uh… yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Robin’s tense posture eased, and she gave a curt nod. “Good. Because if you break that girl’s heart over your own insecurities, I’ll murder you. In a loving, best-friend sort of way.”

Steve managed a small grin. “In a loving way, sure.”

“Get out of here before Keith shows up.” She smirked, waving him off. “And don’t forget to call her, for God’s sake.”

Snatching up his soda again, Steve headed for the door, heart still pounding but a faint sense of relief settling in.

From the moment Steve picked up the phone at ten that morning—voice shaky with nerves—he knew he was taking a gamble. 

He could feel the cautious edge in your tone, the coolness that suggested you were bracing yourself. Still, he invited you over to his place for that evening, willing the dread in his stomach to subside. He told himself it would be okay, that he’d find the right words. 

Robin had told him to talk, so talk he would.

Meanwhile, you spent your Sunday feeling a dread so heavy it threatened to pin you to the floor. 

Why else would Steve have been so distant all week? The only logical conclusion was that he’d decided this wasn’t working. After all, you’d had that conversation with Robin—maybe she’d reported back to him, told him something that sealed the deal. 

It made sense in a heartbreakingly logical way.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you felt like you’d gone through every stage of grief. You dragged yourself to your car and made the drive toward the Harrington residence, a place that had once felt so exciting in its promise. 

Now it loomed large in your mind as the site of an upcoming breakup. When you arrived, you saw plenty of parking space—his parents, you recalled, were almost never home. You turned the keys of the ignition and exited the vehicle. 

At least no one will witness what’s about to happen. 

You made your way up the steps, breath tight in your chest. Just as you lifted a hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing Steve, hair meticulously styled, smelling faintly of aftershave. The pang in your heart only sharpened. 

Did he seriously dress up for this?

“Hi,” he managed, the word catching slightly, like he was just as nervous as you.

“Hi,” you replied curtly.

Steve cleared his throat, looking awkward in a way that tugged at your heart—no matter how resigned you felt. “Uh, I think you should come in.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “All right.”

Inside, the house felt cavernous, every footstep echoing. He led you to the living room, and you couldn’t help but glance around, remembering how you used to marvel at this place—huge, yes, but also warm with the potential of summer get-togethers, that pool you’d joked about wanting to try. Now, the thought made your stomach twist. 

Guess you won’t be swimming here after all.

You both settled on the couch, an awkward space between you. Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, and he couldn’t quite meet your eye. The hush was almost suffocating, until finally he spoke, voice low and unsteady.

“Look, um… I think we need to talk.”

Your heart thumped. So this is it. You drew a shaky breath, forcing yourself to sound calmer than you felt. 

“Okay. Sure.”

He tried not to grimace at the coolness in your tone. You’d never sounded so distant before, and it killed him to know he caused it. Robin’s words about “explaining himself” rang in his ears, so he opened his mouth—only for you to beat him to it.

“Listen, Steve,” you began, voice thick with tension. “I… I get what’s going on here.”

Steve frowned, something twisting in his chest. “Huh? You do?”

“Yeah," you nodded. "I kind of guessed it.”

“Really?” A flicker of confusion passed over his features. “You did?”

Exhaling, you steeled yourself, trying to keep your composure. 

“Look, I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Maybe you didn’t appreciate me crying about my job the other day, or maybe I was too forward cooking dinner for you. I get it. I just… I can’t think of anything else I did wrong.” You forced a hollow laugh. “So I assumed it must be that. Maybe I scared you off.”

Steve’s brows shot up, genuine shock colouring his face.

“What you did wrong?” he echoed. “Wait—what are you talking about?”

You swallowed. 

Get it over with. 

“Aren’t you… breaking up with me?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Every worst fear he had about you feeling hurt was now a reality. 

“What? No! No, I’m not breaking up with you.” He spoke in quick succession. “Are you crazy? I’m not doing that.”

The wave of relief that swept through you was immediate but fleeting.

“Then what is this?” you asked, voice unsure. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling this anymore. You’ve been ignoring me all week, and I’m not gonna force you to stay if you don’t want to. I just… I figured there’d be a reason.”

He grimaced, running a hand through his hair and messing up that careful style. 

“There is a reason,” he admitted. “But trust me, it’s not you.”

“Yeah,” you snorted, a weak attempt at humour that came out more sad than anything. “That’s what everyone always says when they break up with someone.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath. He had never been good at this. You were the one who was good with words, not him. 

“No, really. It—fuck, just let me talk.” He paused, gathering himself. The realisation that you thought you caused this somehow made his heart twist painfully. If you only knew how not your fault it really was. 

God, what a mess. 

He stared at the floor, feeling the weight of all his insecurities. 

“Listen,” he started, voice shaky, “I’m not good at this, so just give me a moment.”

You watched him, a pang of sympathy slipping through your self-protective shell. He looked… rattled, more so than you’d ever seen him. Despite your own heartbreak, you nodded, letting him gather his courage.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling slowly. “So, I don’t have the best track record with relationships. Or even friendships. I thought I’d gotten better, but apparently not.” He let out a short laugh, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second—only to dart away when he saw the concern there. 

It was hard to think when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“What I’m trying to say is… I always seem to get left behind. My first girlfriend left me for someone else. My old friends ditched me as soon as I wasn’t cool anymore. My parents ignored me because I sucked at school.” He swallowed hard, voice thickening with old wounds. “Then I met you, this super smart girl who clearly has the world at her fingertips—you’ve accomplished so much already, more than I ever could. It made me think: how could I hold onto that? How could I keep you interested in my life when I work at a video store and spend my free time with a bunch of teenagers?”

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his words. For a second, you just stared, feeling tears prick the backs of your eyes at how wrong he was about himself.

Without thinking, you reached out and slid your hand into his, the contact gentle but resolute.

“Steve,” you whispered, voice unsteady but filled with honesty, “how can you think that about yourself?”

His gaze snapped to yours, confusion etched in every line of his face. 

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, running a thumb along the backs of his knuckles. 

“You really don’t see what others see, do you?”

He frowned, looking lost. “I… I’m not following.”

Blinking back tears, you gave a soft, exasperated laugh. 

Of course he couldn’t see, your sweet, stupid boy.

“Steve, the first time we met, you literally lugged and built me a whole bookshelf—remember that? You practically passed out hauling the thing up the stairs.”

“Shit,” he muttered, cheeks tinging pink, “you noticed?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said, remembering the moment you started falling for him. “And I saw you freaking out over the instructions, but you tried to act like you totally had it under control.”

“Damn…” he hung his head. “Not as smooth as I thought I was.”

Not in the slightest.

A weak smile tugged at your lips. 

“Maybe not, but that’s overrated anyway.” Taking a breath, you tightened your grip on his hand. “Steve, you’re a giver—through and through. So you don’t have some swanky office job—who cares? You have something better. You’re selfless, you help people, you care. That’s worth more than anything else, trust me. Whenever you talk about your friends, it’s like a never-ending list of names. You’re rich, Steve. Richer than money.”

He felt tears burning behind his eyes. This was not part of the plan, for him to be openly crying while you praise him repeatedly. That should have been his job tonight. Making you feel better. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” he croaked, “you’re gonna make me cry over here.”

“Me too,” you admitted, voice thick with emotion. “We’re both lame.”

“Yeah,” he managed, a watery laugh escaping, “the lamest.”

A heartbeat of silence passed, and then he lifted his eyes to yours with a shy, almost bashful smile, one you hadn’t seen all week. It looked like him, the real Steve you fell for.

“Come here?” he asked, sounding almost boyish in his nervousness.

You couldn’t move fast enough.

He leaned in, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the big house, the rolling ache in your gut. His lips pressed to yours, soft at first, hesitant, then deepening as relief coursed through both of you. 

He couldn’t quite stop smiling against your mouth, which made the kiss a bit clumsy, but neither of you cared. The tenderness overshadowed any awkwardness. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. When he finally pulled back, he let out a shaky exhale, one hand still cupping your cheek. 

“I missed doing that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

“Me too,” you breathed.

He swallowed hard, glancing away as guilt resurged. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like you messed up. Like I didn’t—like I wasn’t into you anymore. I am. I really am. Probably too much”

“You should have told me,” you scold him, his brown eyes still glassy. “Aren’t you the one who preached about sharing problems?”

A choked laugh tore from his throat. “Yeah, well… ‘do as I say, not as I do.’”

“You’re impossible,” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable.

Suddenly, a shrill beeping noise cut through the charged atmosphere, making you both jump. 

“What is that?” you asked, pulse still fluttering from the kiss.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Oh, crap, the timer!” He scrambled off the couch, practically tripping over the coffee table. You followed him with a bemused smile as he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen.

Seconds later, you found him shutting off the buzzer, cheeks flushed. 

“I, uh… made dinner,” he confessed, looking adorably sheepish.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You cooked?”

“I mean, I stole your idea,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Rob said I should do something nice, so… here we are. My parents were never around much, so I learned a few things. It’s probably not as good as yours, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

A laugh rose in your chest, part delight, part lingering emotional exhaustion. “Robin told you to do this? I gotta thank her.”

He set a potholder aside, shrugging with an embarrassed smile. “She said I had to make it up to you, so… yeah. I guess I’m returning the favour.”

“You’re full of surprises,” you said softly, stepping closer. 

Steve let out a quiet breath, a small, relieved grin curving his lips. As you moved into his space, he reached out, fingers ghosting along your arm before settling at your waist.

“And you, deserve it.” He murmured, voice brimming with affection. “Really sweetheart, you deserve the world.”

Something in his tone made your heart clench. Before you could respond, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, tender—altogether mesmerising. 

He cradled your face like you might vanish if he wasn’t careful, as though keeping you close was the only way to convince himself that this was real. You tasted the faint salt of his earlier tears, felt his almost giddy smile against your mouth, and the mix of sadness and relief and overwhelming softness made you cling tighter to him.

It was the kind of moment that made the ache worth it, the kind you knew you’d replay in your head a thousand times.

You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath. Foreheads touching, you could see the hint of a shaky grin still hovering on his lips. 

“I guess this means we’re not breaking up?” you asked playfully.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head vigorously. “But hey, you might change your mind after you try my cooking.”

“Hey!” you protested, giving his shoulder a playful shove—no malice behind it at all. “I’m not that cruel. Even if it was terrible, I’d never tell you.”

“And there you go being way too good for me,” he chuckles, but this time it feels more like the joke he was aiming for. 

One that he knew deep down was not true.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 2 Lavender green, lavender blue

Chapter 2 of Sinnerwoman

A/N- Ahhh!! The second chapter is here and I really hope you all like it just as much as I liked writing it!!

Warning- ANGST!! Weapons, blood, light violence. Talks of death! And small SA part. Spoilers for the show!

Pairing- Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

Episode- 1x09 & 2x01-2x02

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

——

A decision has been made. It was made the moment the Front Man revealed his identity, but what is the warmth and the sound of your lover's beating heart compared to a lifetime of bitter solitude and agonizing screams?

Nothing…nothing compares to what you have to return to, but you can’t stay or risk waiting. Jun-ho might be in a coma, he might wake up a month from now, and you would have waited a month or all your life if you had to, but you can’t risk it.

You have to leave, he has to forget about you for his own safety. And maybe it is a selfish decision, you got mad at him because he chose to leave you in the dark when he decided to put his life at risk to sneak onto that Island, but this is different. This is a sacrifice you're making to save his life. Does it make leaving him behind any better?

No, you don’t want him to forget about you. You don’t want him to meet someone else, and you don’t want him to live the life you wanted with him with someone else. You want him to only love you, but there’s no other choice. He won’t stop pursuing the Island and that will get him killed, and you don't think you’ll be able to survive this time if you have to watch someone else that you love die in your arms again, so you have to leave.

First, though, you have to snuggle up against him and share his warmth for a little longer. You have to hear the sound of his beating heart for a little longer to memorize its calming beat.

Just a little longer.

“Lavender’s green, dilly, dilly…lavender's blue,” you sing, or try because every word of the lullaby comes out shaky and like you’re out of breath because you can’t help the tears that run down your cheeks and stain Jun-ho’s hospital gown.

“If you love me…dilly, dilly. I will love you,” you continue and maybe you aren’t the best singer, but memories fade or get obscured, especially those of children, and that lullaby is one of the few memories you have of your sister when she would sing it to you at the orphanage. It means so much to you, to her memory and now when you think of that song, besides your sister, you’ll think of the only man you’ll love. The man who loved you; your Jun-ho, so you have to share it with him. Even if he can’t hear it.

Yet those last words uttered were like a pierce to the heart and with each impact, more and more of you was chipped away, leaving no more strength to continue the rest. Thus you stroke Jun-ho’s chest one more time before you shift your head to press a light kiss on the part of his chest that you were resting your head on. You then slide off the bed and sit up to study every inch of his face before you lean down and leave one last kiss on his lips.

Rather than getting up right away, you let the warmth of your lips linger on his to cherish the taste before you force yourself off the hospital bed.

When you’re standing at the foot of the same bed you steal one last glance at him, wishing you could have seen his eyes and talked to him one more time, but you keep telling yourself that what you’re doing is for the best, so you push yourself away with tears crawling down the curve of your cheeks.

Before you can leave the room and the hospital, however, you make a stop at the bathroom. You splash your face with water to wipe the tears off your cheeks and any marking they could have left behind. If you had any other clothes besides the ones you wore to the Island, you would have put them on now, but you have nothing. All you can do is disconnect your phone from any satellite that gives you service, and then the wifi to go offline, making the hospital the last place your phone would have been.

Once that is taken care of, you move to leave, but you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, so you stop and slowly scale your eyes to the scar of a skidding bullet above your ear, and every bad memory you have of the island comes rushing in, making you hesitate and dread having to return to that horrible and terrible life.

You almost have the nerve to return to Jun-ho’s bedside and pretend you weren’t going to leave. You don’t want to see it again. You don’t want to live it. You can’t hide behind a mask again, but…it’s a sacrifice you have to make for the man you love, so after a deep breath you make it out of the bathroom. You throw your phone away in the nearest trash can and stride out of the hospital.

No one stops you, and no one looks. You walk out alone under the cover of rain and leave everything behind.

——

*3 YEARS LATER.*

“…IT'S ALMOST BEEN THREE YEARS SINCE THE DISAPPEARANCE…”

Whatever had been said before didn’t matter. It didn’t even register as noise, but these words finally steal his attention. After all, it's been the same words they once repeated daily and then weekly, monthly, and then every year, so like his name, Jun-ho becomes alert when he hears them,

“…OF THE RESPECTED AND DECORATED DETECTIVE KANG…”

Yet when the news anchor begins to say your name he tunes out the news again. He can’t muster the strength to hear your name or see the portrait of you that they display on the screen without feeling agony pierce his heart. So with memorized timing, he tunes out those few seconds and then focuses again to hear the rest of the news bit.

“…SHE WAS LAST SEEN LEAVING THE HOSPITAL. IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION ON HER WHEREABOUTS PLEASE CONTACT YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES. THANK YOU.”

Yet no one ever does contact the authorities. It’s like you just vanished in the rainfall that supposedly hit that night.

Maybe if you hadn’t been seen at the same hospital he was taken to it would be easier to pass you off as dead, but you were seen. You made it out of the Island, just like he did, so how could he possibly forget you? You of all people. You out of every soul he knew. You…his epic love.

Just like his brother was his life. You were also all of his life and so much more of it. He would have to be dead to forget you.

Maybe death would be good though. That way he would forget what he saw his brother become. That way he could stop blaming himself for your disappearance, but when he looks up at the picture of you and him that he has attached to his locker mirror, he thinks to himself, “How can I possibly die without knowing where you are, or…what happened to you?”

He can’t die yet. He has so many questions, and so much unfinished business that also has nothing to do with you, but, you…

“You,” he thinks to himself as he pulls the picture off the mirror, catching at that moment the wandering eyes of his colleague before he quickly looks away and walks off without saying a word.

At first, the first few weeks of your disappearance, when he returned to work, all he would get was pitiful consolations. After that, anytime you were brought up they just passed him pitiful stares that were also mixed with curiosity as they wondered if he still cared.

He would tell them to fuck off, but he doesn’t want to waste his breath so he lets them think what they want. He’s still searching for answers and he’s the only one that needs to know that.

“I won’t stop looking,” he thinks to himself as he folds the picture so you and your timid smile are the center of attention.

After he strokes his thumb over the image of you he sticks the picture back on his mirror and tries to continue changing back into his normal clothes, but then the scar his brother left on his shoulder steals his attention.

Just like you, how can he possibly forget about In-ho? Sometimes he forgets what he saw, but when he sees his scar, when he feels the shape under his fingertips, he remembers what happened that day In-ho shot him and he’s hit with a wave of different emotions and questions.

One question he has is if In-ho has anything to do with your disappearance. You escaped the Island, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t find you after you escaped.

Maybe In-ho…took you away from Jun-ho’s life?

He doesn’t like that possibility, he can’t imagine that his brother is the one who stole the woman he loved from him, so he finishes changing. Once he’s done, like every day that came before, he leaves the department and heads to his car.

Yet this evening as he’s walking to his car he feels this sensation like someone is staring, so he stops walking, and lifts his gaze to look in the direction he felt the stare coming from.

However, when his eyes find the spot, there’s no one there. There’s just an empty street. So after a couple of seconds of lingering, he continues to his car. It’s only once he’s driven off that you come out from behind a pillar, and keep your eyes where you had seen him last before you take a deep breath and collect yourself to check your phone.

When you see what time it is you groan in annoyance and set off. There’s no hurry in your pace, or an urgency to get a ride to where you’re meant to be. You go on as if you’re taking a stroll through the city, enjoying the sights like a tourist, and enjoying the sounds of everyday life because that’s the one thing you like; the commotion of the busy city life.

Where you live now is like living in a construction site, or sometimes it feels like an office. In the off-season when there’s not an army of workers, there is a stillness that you appreciate, but with it comes a silence that drags on and if you weren’t used to it you would be driven insane.

That’s why you soak in the everyday commotion while you can. Even if it makes you late to your meeting.

“Hi, I’m here to join a party already at a table. Under the name, Oh,” you let the hostess know, and right away her eyes search the list on her screen. In a matter of seconds, her finger stops scrolling and she faces you with a perfectly practiced smile.

“Follow me,” she says and walks away from her podium to guide you to a secluded table at the end of the room, still nicely lit, but secluded to offer privacy.

Thus the walk is longer than usual, but when you reach the table the party waiting for you stands from their seats to welcome you to the table at long last.

“Here you go, ma’am, do you know what you want to order or should I leave the menu?”

“No,” one of the party members interjects. “We already ordered ahead for her. Let the waitress know she’s here.”

The hostess offers him a smile and nods in comprehension before she backs up and walks off, leaving you alone to face your rather patient dates.

“Forgive me,” you announce with a small smile. “I’m late. I know. There was some business I needed to take care of.”

You proceed to take your seat that faces the party you met up with, and they then take their seats after you, letting you meet them at their eye level and offer them a wider smile. “Shall we?” You suggest.

——

*2 YEARS AGO*

“…I don’t like to see you get hurt and if something had happened to you, or if something happens to you because of me, I…don’t think I could ever in my life forgive myself. I…love you.”

“I…love you.”

“I…love you.”

Jun-ho’s words are the commotion that keeps the quiet lobby from truly being deafening so late at night. While the picture in your hand keeps you company in a lobby where you’re the only one occupying it.

That is until you hear the glass front doors get pushed open and a single pair of wet footsteps walk in and change the occupation from one to two. Or so that’s what it sounds like.

You peer back thinking you’ll catch more people walking in with the person you’re waiting for, but alas, it’s a single man. A homeless man…maybe? He looks ragged with his beat-up clothes, his shoulder-length unkempt hair, and his dirty face.

But who are you to judge his appearance?

“The elevators are down the hall,” you share as you turn your head away from the man who seems lost. “If not. The receptionist start their shift at six. You’ll have to be gone by then.”

The man begins to walk down the hall while he offers you a response. “Oh…thank you. Goodnight.”

“Good night,” you deadpan and keep listening in. It’s not until you hear the elevator doors close that you bring up your picture again and keep admiring Jun-ho’s image, his heartwarming smile that he only showed to the camera because you were posing with him. Otherwise, you would only catch him in a picture alone if it was off guard. It’s why you have a lot of pictures of him off guard, and that’s why the ones with him actually looking at the camera and smiling are your favorite, but the one you hold in your hand is a picture you cherish the most because decorations from your favorite holiday adorn it, and he’s holding your little black Scottish Terrier, Gentleman.

If only you could be with them, especially now, but if you picked up your dog the moment you left the hospital that night, it would have made your disappearance questionable, so you left him behind with your neighbor the day you left for the Island. And Jun-ho…there’s hundreds of reasons why you can’t be with him…

That’s why you’re here alone, watching the snow start to fall and stick to the ground with a solemn look that will probably never leave. Once the snow is thicker you put the folded picture away and step outside where you break the snow’s path so some part of it can fall on you instead.

It takes a while for you to look up as you stand in your solitude and let the snow weigh you down first as if you’re just another object on the street. When you do finally break from your stupor, you slowly look up at the white sky intermingled with the night, and notice two perfectly shaped snowflakes dancing down from the sky in an attempt to reach the ground, so you put your hand out and try to catch them on your palm.

Nevertheless, one snowflake breaks away from its path and continues barreling to the ground, while the other lands on your palm all alone and melts right away.

Perhaps if the other snowflake had also landed on your palm, the lonely snowflake would have lived longer, but it was no good alone. Thus you fist your hand with disappointment and attempt to head back inside, but in that moment you then catch a man across the street.

He doesn’t seem conscious, he seems to be sleeping with the way he’s slumped on the ground, but you can’t be sure from where you are, so you make your way to him.

The moment you reach him you call out to him in hopes of gaining his attention. “Sir? Are you okay?”

You wait for a few seconds but there’s no response. His eyes remain closed and his breathing heavy, so you get closer and catch a whiff of alcohol, but you don't let that matter. You still shake him gently, causing him to slip.

When he doesn’t wake up that way you back away and immediately pull your phone out to call the police. And rather than staying there and waiting for the police out in the open, under all the street lights, you choose to walk off to a bench across the street and wait there where you won’t be seen.

You continue to wait and wait until finally a siren sounds and police show up to take the man out of the cold. And even then you don’t leave the cold yourself, you stay on the bench, letting the snow continue to pile up on your slouched figure as you wait and lose yourself on the untouched sheet of snow already covering the ground.

After some unknown time passes the headlights of a car break you from your stupor and you look up, noticing black SUVs with dark tinted windows pull up to the apartment building you had been waiting in. Thus ending your waiting period and making you dust the snow off your body before you get up to look like some creep waiting just outside the car.

Thankfully who you’re waiting for doesn’t leave you waiting too long, but the moment your eyes land on him your breath catches in your throat. And when his eyes fall on you, he comes to a stop and has the nobility to look at you in the eyes.

There’s no softness and no agitation. He doesn’t pass you a firm or deadpanned look. He seems curious about you, just as you are about him; Hwang In-ho, the older brother of the love of your life, and the Front Man.

Even so, neither of you exchange any words on any matter, he just says your name so you counter by stating his own name. “Hwang In-ho. It’s nice to meet you in a calmer environment.” You scoff and he just looks at you before he turns his body to face the car.

“Are you coming?” He asks and walks away without waiting for an answer as if he knows what you’re going to choose. Yet you still linger where you are to hesitate as if you have a choice when your mind's made up and has been forcing you to follow through with that decision for a year now.

It’s just…if you get that in that car, you officially go back to that nightmare. You leave your life behind. You leave Jun-ho, and trade it for…a life that turned its back on you?

“Your father is dead,” In-ho shares from inside the car as if he can read your mangled thoughts only getting more and more twisted—“you have a chance to start over. Not where you started, but by my side. Just as we discussed. Get in the car.”

You put your hands in your pockets to grab the picture and debate for a second longer before you choose not to live a lifetime secluded. If you’re going to be alone you might as well be alone there where you can be a piece upon the board. So you get in the car and watch your decision get sealed when the door closes.

“Is the host dead?” You ask first and foremost, skipping formalities because you already know each other's names.

“The flower arrangement was inappropriate,” he says in a deeper tone that could be passed as scolding.

“Well,” you respond with a growing malicious smile. “Look at it this way, now my flowers will be the first to decorate his grave.” You snicker and look over at him with a smile, but he looks at you nonchalantly.

“You can’t see Jun-ho anymore,” he changes the subject bluntly, causing your smile to fall and your amusement to fade right away.

“I know that,” you mutter as you turn your head away to look out the window. “That’s why I disappeared because I saw you. I knew who you were and what you meant to the games, and I…knew,” you pause and swallow back a lump of emotions that had begun to form in your throat. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie to his face.”

You see your eyes water through the reflection painted on the window, so you avert your gaze and continue. “He really cares about you…you know. He looks—looked up to you. It wasn’t long after we met that he told me about you, so…seeing you take that mask off…” you trail off and peek over at him, seeing that he can't look at you, his eyes are on his hands, and his jaw is clenched, giving away his discomfort on the matter.

“…was when I knew what I had to do to protect him because if he knew that I knew how to find you, he wouldn’t stop. He would get himself killed to get back on that Island again. To reach you, and,” you pause and feel the tears break away to fall down your cheeks.

“I can’t lose him. He means everything to me. And coming from someone with nothing, losing everything is like losing one's own life.”

In-ho hums, and you take that as a simple form of acknowledgment, but if you could understand the deeper meaning behind that simple acknowledging hum, you would know that he also knows what it’s like to lose everything.

“I already lost everything once. I can’t lose it again. So I know I can’t see him again,” you finish stating and then wipe the tears off your face to slowly look over at him.

“Are you sure there will be a place for me there?” You make sure to ask.

In-ho’s eyes drift to you to catch a glimpse of you before he reaches down and grabs a black box decorated with a pink bow to give it to you.

You don’t wait or question him. You pull at the pink bow to pull it off and then pull the lid off the box. When you reach inside you pull out a shiny silver mask of the top half of a crane’s face.

“This is where you belong,” In-ho assures you as you keep looking at your mask and realize there’s no turning back. This is you now. Again.

Another piece on the board…

Or the piece that ends it all.

——

*NOW*

“I’m glad that we are meeting in the city,” you muse as you pull your coat off and hang it on your chair. “The island tends to suffocate me.”

“You insisted on meeting here,” In-ho quips as he studies you as if that will give away where you were. “Annoyingly so.”

You shrug and flash him a sweet smile. “And you accepted. You had the power to deny my suggestion but you caved, so my point still stands.”

In-ho sighs deeply in annoyance before he snaps his gaze away to look at your third guest, the man in charge of recruiting the players for the games. “Anyway, considering some of us are meant to be missing, we're short on time. Tell us what you know,” he directs at the recruiter.

“Well,” the recruiter doesn’t leave you waiting. “As I’ve mentioned, player 456, Seong Gi-hun, and his…hired lackey,” he adds without masking his disgust. “Are trailing me.”

“What else is new,” you mutter and sit back as the waitress walks over with your cup of coffee just the way you like it. “Aren’t they on the subway lines every day?”

The recruiter sighs whilst he also picks up his spoon to mix his coffee. “On the dot. Which leaves me surprised that…such low lives are so loyal to their boring jobs.”

You pick your cup up and raise it to quip. “Money. Maybe we can offer them more to act like they don’t see you. That will keep player 456 chasing after his own tail.”

The recruiter laughs and you flash him a smile as you take a sip of your coffee. Albeit In-ho doesn’t share your amusement. “That won’t be necessary. You will let Player 456’s lackey find you.”

The recruiter lets his spoon go and blinks repeatedly in confusion before he questions the command. He’s not one to question any command given to him. If In-ho or anyone above him says bark, he will do so without hesitation, but he questions this command this one time. “Are you sure?”

In-ho nods. “Play with them or be straightforward. It doesn’t matter as long as Player 456 gets this key,” he shares before digging in his suit pocket and pulling out a brown card that he hands to the recruiter. “He won’t want any other thing but to see me. That key will have all he needs to find me.”

The recruiter doesn’t read the card. He blindly tucks it away and nods in comprehension.

“How many players have you recruited?” You interject now as you take a longer sip of your coffee.

“I’m close to getting all the players we need. I have of course left three spots open.”

“Good,” In-ho mumbles.

The recruiter licks his lips and leans forward. “Will you still go through with it, Captain?”

In-ho grabs the cup of his almost-finished coffee and leaves the question unanswered for a moment before he nods and then takes his last drink of coffee. Once he's done he proceeds to answer. “As long as player 456 does.”

You set your cup down and keep your eyes lingering on the coffee in your cup to avoid anyone’s potential stare.

“Will you?” The question gets passed and you know the Recruiter is looking at you. “It’s hard to imagine you getting your hands dirty. All those people.”

You swallow thickly and simply steal a glance at him before you take a sip of your coffee and keep your eyes on the cup rather than him to avoid letting him read any part of your current thoughts.

The Recruiter is no mind reader, but he’s crazy enough to know what’s lurking in the shadows of your mind. He always has.

“I’ve been a cop,” you argue. “I know how to get my hands dirty. It doesn’t bother me, and neither do the people.”

“Right,” he snickers. “You’re a lone wolf. With no social skills.”

You sit the cup down hard and snap your eyes to him, catching that stupid taunting smile plastered on his stupid face.

Just like when you were young he always finds a way to pester you.

“If you weren’t number two. You would die. There’s a difference between watching and actually playing. Did you ever play those games in the orphanages you—”

“My brother and I played all the time,” you cut him off before he can tick you off. Which is hard to do. You know how to keep your cool, but he just knows how to press your buttons. “Don’t worry about me,” you deadpan and then look at in-ho. “Shall we?” You press.

In-ho nods without fret, letting you grab your coat before you get up. In-ho mirrors your actions, and before he heads out he does add one last thing to the Recruiter. “Do you have us covered?”

Without a doubt the Recruiter tries to please In-ho by agreeing, letting In-ho then point his hand ahead to let you lead the way out of the cafe.

“See you soon,” the Recruiter throws at you as you walk away without giving your goodbyes, but there’s a reason you didn’t so you just offer him a feigned smile over your shoulder before you roll your eyes away and leave. Once you’re in the car you lean your body toward In-ho and don’t forget to complain.

“Why don’t we change recruiters? This one’s psychotic,” you grumble as you prop your elbow on the armrest and rest your chin on your hand. “He’s always been missing a few bolts in the head.”

In-ho grabs the newspaper of the day from the seat pocket and begins to read the articles. “Some will say that’s what makes him perfect for the job. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

You roll your eyes but keep watching him. “I know someone who will be better at the job. And he’s got a charm to him.”

“Who?” He immediately counters. “I never see you talk to anyone besides me.”

You sit up and look at him like he’s wounded you, while he hides his faint smile by keeping his eyes on the newspaper.

“Oh. Funny.” You grumble and turn away to look ahead with your body slumped in the seat.

“If you’re going to join the game you’ll need to socialize. Gain their trust. Or you’ll be a burden to me.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of me. We can pretend not to know each other.”

“That'd be impossible, who would you talk to then?” He teases you dryly. He’s teasing you!

It seems like you're starting to prefer when he was standoffish and blunt.

“Just be a player. Gain their trust and sabotage Player 456,” he puts it simply without long explanations because this is a matter you already discussed.

“No, no.” You shake your finger. “My job is not to crush Player 456 and destroy his last flicker of will. That’s your job. I am simply joining to not die of boredom watching the games.”

Or so you say out loud.

“Well whatever the case, there’s no fun in it if you isolate yourself,” he disregards you to keep insisting, making you sit back again and look out the window this time. “Do you want me to tag along on the 31st?”

“If it’s what you want,” he says while the newspaper in his hand rustles as he sets it down. “I’m gonna have snipers posted on the route. And two men that will walk in the club.”

You nod in comprehension and share what you already have planned. “Well, I’ll be your lookout then. I’ll have your back. Secure the perimeter, and figure out how many people Player 456 brings with him.”

Through the reflection on the window, you see In-ho nod before he turns his head to look at you before he bluntly changes the subject. “You went to see him didn’t you?”

You stiffen and slowly meet the reflection of his eyes. “You had me followed?” You snap.

“You’re making it harder on yourself,” he says without denying or admitting to the accusation which means it is true—“let him go. What if he had seen you? What if any of his colleagues had seen you?”

You roll your head his way to look him in the eyes with a firmly pointed look. “But he didn’t and he never does!” You argue with your voice raised higher than usual.

“It doesn’t matter if he never has. He can and he will,” he counters with no raise in his voice. He’s just trying to sound firm. “If he sees you, what then? You’ll throw away everything you sacrificed for him and for what? To see him dead?”

You furrow your eyebrows and puff out your chest, but can’t form any argument to throw back at him because you know he’s right. “He was all I had,” you say instead as your eyes wander down.

In-ho sighs and his voice is now softer. “I know, but you’re only hurting yourself more.”

You swallow back thickly and huff as a response. While In-ho steals a glance at you and lets his eyes linger on your drooped frown, your watery eyes, and your furrowed brows. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t show any emotion, he’s still, and providing a deafening silence that is…odd and uncomfortable. There was once a time when he could sit in the silence without it bothering him, but now?

He’s made a mistake welcoming you back on the island and allowing you to have a spot in the innermost circle, but he didn’t know what your presence would bring to his life and now that he lives amongst it, you are his new normal. So when that normal is disturbed it always feels so odd.

Like he’s upset the scales of life.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

Maybe it’s because when you were growing up you were never asked for forgiveness from the man who called himself your father, so you learned to move on and not expect it; live like nothing happened in the first place and shove that problem away. Or maybe it’s because In-ho was/is right about you hurting yourself more by continuing to see Jun-ho, but now as dinner has rolled around, it’s like he didn’t make you upset to the point you haven’t talked to him since the car ride home hours prior.

As is your new normal, you set the dinner table for two, just him and you. It makes for quite a lonely dinner, but there isn’t anyone else either of you care about on the Island to have seated with you for dinner. Plus, after the awkward stage passed, it’s actually nice having dinner together. You look forward to it when you’re not upset at him.

Therefore once you finish setting the table you have the intention to go get him, but when you leave the dining room, there he is just outside the door. It seems like he was passing by the moment you opened the door.

Albeit, unbeknownst to you, he had been outside the door debating whether to come talk to you in order to balance the scales or not. Nothing he said was wrong, he was right and he was going to stand by that, but he also knows there could have been a kinder approach and he was going to explain that.

However, he also debated whether there was a point in asking for forgiveness. He isn’t your brother or your father, he’s your superior, your colleague, and your friend so he was leaning toward that choice. Yet you walked out before he could leave.

“Dinner is ready,” you let him know with a glass of wine in your hand. “But if you want sad ramen that’s okay too.”

In-ho is stuck again. You’re giving him a way out to do as he had chosen to do, but there you stand across from him with a tiny smile tugged on your lips, a pleading gaze you couldn’t keep discreet no matter how hard you try, a warm plate of food already expecting him, and no one else to fill the silence. You’re waiting and asking for nothing in return even if there is something he wants to offer you.

Thus, he accepts your invitation. He walks in, washes his hands, and sits down with no forgiveness to offer you in return. And it's not like you bring it up either. It's like you knew how not to expect it just to please him.

“My sister,” you offer him some more information on a past that you rarely share. “…Was older, so we were separated for most of the day at the orphanage, but when dinner rolled around we always made it our tradition to eat together. It was always my favorite part of the day and something I always looked forward to.” You pause and take a bite of your food, making sure to chew it well and swallow before you take a long drink of your wine and then continue.

“When I was adopted by my family, I was glad that I could continue that tradition with my mother and my brother and on occasion my father. And then…after Jun-ho and I became close, every day after work we would have dinner together. Whether it was in the park, in a car, or at one of our houses. That’s why I learned to cook so well. You’re lucky I’m not six anymore or we’d be having banana sandwiches.”

In-ho scoffs with amusement, letting a small smile appear on his lips as he chews. When he’s done with that bite he interjects. “I can’t imagine your sister was too pleased with your meal choice.”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “Never. She always scolded me, but they were my favorite and the only thing I was allowed to make at a young age, so on days she expected me to make them, she always had boiled eggs for us to eat after.”

In-ho’s smile stays on his face for a moment and it’s in that comfortable silence that was made by the fact that you could make him smile, that you bring up the matter that left a strain between each other.

“You were right, you know,” you say after you take a couple bites of your food. “About Jun-ho.”

You pick up your wine glass as you also lower your head.

“But,” you argue in your defense.

“No,” he cuts you off, and as you bring your eyes up to look at him, you notice that his smile and any sign of amusement is completely gone, leaving him…as always, nonchalant—“You need to completely cut him off. You need to forget the life you had on the mainland. That life will only drag you down and be your worst enemy.”

Tears slowly fill your eyes, but you’re tougher on yourself this time. You don’t cry, you simply snap back with no sign of spite, just nonchalance. “So should I be like you?”

In-ho clenches his jaw as he doesn’t know how to take that, but there’s also no other way to be. “Yes,” he deadpans.

You blink and look down at your food to take a couple of bites and then a longer drink of your wine, managing to finish it and serve yourself more as you think about what he said and that it's not what you want

You know what you yearn for, or so you tell yourself and you don’t want to become everything you despise. You know what you want and you don’t want to be the person that the masks turn you into.

Is he everything you loathe though? If you look at him in the eyes. Really look at him, will he be the reminder of the father you loathe? That’s who he wants you to be…is that who he is?

“Do you think that the workers here will obey me if I am more like you?” You fill the silence as you sit back with your new glass of wine in one hand, and a firmer look that isn’t like that warm look you carried moments ago. “I mean when I’m not in your shadow that is.”

In-ho sits up and holds your gaze as he nods with reassurance. “They’ll no choice will they?”

You tilt your head slightly and scoff.

“When your father was the Front Man…”

“He ruled with an Iron fist,” you continue for him since he wasn’t here when your father was the Front Man. He only knows stories. “Yes, but that’s a thing of the past. Done by different old men. I am no man. I left a different regime behind shall we say, and then I came back under you donning a position of power right away. Do you see where my doubt comes from him?”

“They don’t get to ask questions,” In-ho says. “They have to listen to you. Now if they catch you slipping they will take the chance to do what they want. And with that comes chaos that will eat you alive. Never falter.”

You slowly look down at your wine and begin to gently spin it. “I suppose it is easy to get rid of those who don’t listen here isn’t it?” You ask with a faint smirk.

“You don’t want to overstep either. Easy or not,” he interjects.

You slowly look up at him as you stop spinning your wine and nod stiffly. “I know,” you mutter.

He holds your gaze for a couple more seconds, letting you look him in the eyes and search for what you need.

Right away you see that his eyes are kinder, he is kinder—or was, from what Jun-ho has told you, and from the rare times he metaphorically takes his mask off. Albeit if you look deeper will you see everything you despise? Or something different?

You…don’t know.

But does that change anything?

——

*A FEW DAYS LATER*

“Can you hear me?” You ask for assurance after you made a discreet sweep down the street.

“Yes,” In-ho responds right away in his distorted voice. “We can hear you.”

“There’s nothing that stands out specifically, but I spotted two vans full of men who have not moved or left the car. Both the driver and the front passenger have earpieces on in both cars as well. Let me pass you the license plate,” you direct that last bit to the pink guards before you share what you mentally noted in your quick scouting trip around the block.

“I’m heading back toward the club now,” you follow up by announcing as you pick up your pace, but not in a way that will pique anyone’s interest. You’re fast enough to return to the club quicker.

“We spotted player 456,” a guard shares. “He and a companion are getting out of the car and are en route inside.”

“Wait for them to get inside and then go after them,” In-ho orders.

“There’s also a man in the driver's seat. It seems like he’s waiting.”

In-ho answers with a hum before he passes an order. “Get the license plate and share it with The White Crane,” he refers to your alias. “Take note of who he is, White Crane, and if he gets out of the car to go after player 456, stop him.”

You press the button on the earpiece to give your response. “Understood.”

You keep your pace with a new task in mind. No one stops you because you blend perfectly with everyone else on the busy street celebrating Halloween.

However, you do have to admit you are a bit envious that people seem to be having so much fun. It makes you want to walk into the club and get plastered to have fun too, but you’re on the mainland on a mission, so you’re strictly forbidden to even drink, you can only be envious.

Then again when you finally approach the club, you catch sight of the club and the giant line formed outside, and you admit that maybe being inside doesn’t sound as tempting.

“They’re inside,” a guard shares.

“Alright move in.” In-ho demands.

You finally reach the street where the Pink guards said the car and the man are, but there, in a black car parked in the exact spot you’re on the lookout for, sits Jun-ho. He’s in the driver's seat of the car that matches the license plate the guards told you about.

You could be mistaken. This could be some delusion, but you’re not sick and you can see perfectly fine through your mask, so no, he’s not some fever dream, it’s Jun-ho in the flesh.

Does he notice you?

Your heart stops at the sight of the man you love, making it feel like you’re about to be hit with a heart attack, so you stupidly stop in front of the car and look in wondering if he sees you too.

But how can it be if you’re wearing a fucking mask…

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Of course, he’s involved. Why wouldn't he be in the middle of this ordeal?!

With or without you he didn’t let the Island go and now…you have to confront him and do what In-ho told you to do. There’s no other choice, but will you tell In-ho that it’s his brother working with player 456?

No.

Will you tell him that now that you know he’s here and once again involved in all this, that you have an absurd plan to confront him after 3 years of disappearing from his life?

Also no because he doesn’t need to know.

“I found the car and the driver,” you share through the earpiece after you manage to unglue yourself from your spot before Jun-ho can find you suspicious.

The moment you finish crossing the crosswalk though, the sight of Jun-ho getting out of his car catches your attention.

“He’s out of the car in pursuit of his friends,” you let your people know.

“Stop him,” In-ho deadpans with no clue that you’re referring to his brother.

“On it,” you assure him and cross the street properly, unlike Jun-ho who runs in the middle of a busy street like a madman, forcing a car to break.

He does make it across unscathed, but when he tries to just walk inside he’s stopped by the bouncer, so you have to pretend that you’re taking a smoke break so you don’t look like a stalker, or so he doesn’t spot you before you can stop him.

“Hey, no cutting. Go to the back of the line,” the bouncer tells Jun-ho off, which more than likely aggravates him knowing how impatient he can be.

“Police. Move,” Jun-ho snaps bluntly and once again tries to walk in, but again, the bouncer pushes him back.

“See your fellow officers waiting in line?” The bouncer points out to the line of people waiting. “It’s Halloween. Go put your uniform on first.”

With no warning and zero patience, you watch Jun-ho pull out his gun and point it at the bouncer as he shoves him back against a wall. “Does this look like a toy?” He threatens him, making you smile with amusement.

This time around the bouncer has nothing to say in return. He’s speechless, so Jun-ho is able to walk in, whilst you wait a couple of minutes before you drop the cigarette and stomp on the barely used stick to walk in without any resistance. Not because the bouncer was left shaken up after Jun-ho, it’s because they know who you are. That’s why In-ho chose this specific club.

Once you’re inside, you’re immediately enveloped by all the commotion, the raging music, and the bodies of people crowding the entrance and every step you take, making it hard to find Jun-ho, but not impossible. Luckily enough he didn’t make it far so you’re able to find him just on top of the metal stairs that lead to the main floor before he descends them and joins the madness.

With no other choice but to be like some haunting spirit you trail after him rather than being a part of the madness.

Every step he takes you take not so long after. Every turn he makes you do the same, and every person he shoves aside, you carefully slip past. There comes a point where he stops at a bar and shakes an unconscious man with a bright green horse mask, so you finally stop trailing after him. Instead, you pull your mask off and walk in the crowd of dancing bodies to find a way around Jun-ho.

“Dance?” A drunk man shouts and grabs your waist to try and pull you, but you shove him back harshly and snap at him while glaring at him.

“Do that again and I’ll tear your fingers off your hand to shove them up your ass.”

The man is left bewildered so he backs away, letting you disappear in the sea of bodies. And for a moment, because of the interruption, it seems like you lost sight of Jun-ho. You can’t find him again, but as you keep pushing through, you catch a glimpse of him so you run to get ahead. When you finally find an opening, you exit the crowd and stop across from him, making him come to an immediate halt as he notices right away.

You, the person who has been missing for three years. You, the woman he loves and has been searching for relentlessly. You stand there looking him in the eyes, unscathed, healthy, and just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

Yet it’s because he sees you so clearly in your flowing white robes that show off glimpses of your figure when the lights flash on you, that he can’t believe it’s really you. You have to be some divine spirit brought by stress.

“Come,” you wave him over with your hand without letting go of those dark eyes that glisten with brimming tears every time the flashing light basks his face. His jaw then drops slightly and his eyebrows rise as his eyes widen with shock. You proceed to not wait and turn to start walking away.

“Wait!” You hear Jun-ho call out after you.

You peer over your shoulder and see him do just as you want; he follows you, so you lure him to an employee-only door. It is hard making sure that he doesn’t lose sight of you or that actually reaches you since there’s so many people and it’s so crowded, but you manage to stay one step ahead and reach the employee-only hallway without having him stop you.

When Jun-ho sees that you disappear in the hall, he calls out your name and turns cautious when he approaches the door, letting you rush up the stairs to position yourself just around the corner and take out your taser gun.

Jun-ho continues to be cautious when he walks inside, but as he’s climbing the stairs he breaks into a run. In doing so, turning the corner hastily and not being able to stop you from hitting his neck with your taser gun that doesn't leave his flesh until he's knocked out.

Before he can hit the ground you catch him in your arms. “I'm sorry,” you whisper as you admire his face now that you can finally be close to him again. “I had to do it, but it will be okay,” you assure him before you lean down and press a kiss on his forehead. “I promise,” you whisper one last time against his temple.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Ahhhhh xD

[gayofthefae]

True reason Byler is canon? Will's feelings serve no purpose for MILKVAN.

Honestly, I've said before I'm a bandwagon fan because I can't handle the heartbreak of it, so I was thinking of if I had to rewatch it and jump ship.

And I don't think I could on this one. It feels too much like "their love beats all odds and...!...overcomes...queerness? He was almost queer but they saved it and he came back to her?" what is the obstacle here?

You say it's the I love you, but then how do Will's feelings factor in at all? Because having 0 impact on Mike not only isn't how writing works but also the prospect of that was erased heavy handedly by the painting and Will encouraging Mike for the ily speech. Will's feelings must serve Mike's story, even if, unfortunately for the message to queer people, that is his story with El.

And that doesn't mean encouraging it. Will easily could done that as a friend. Often a love triangle in some way or another teaches you what you really wanted, I don't feel that they can successfully imply that he didn't know that was El, and season 4 does not show the realization that Will has feelings for him driving him further to El because he realizes, more like Nancy with Steve and Jonathan, that it IS her he really wants. Of course, honestly, the best execution of that would require him to be bisexual and have been considering Will but realize El was his true person.

But that isn't what happened. He already told her he loved her and went back to her and that wasn't the motivation for it. His actions on the surface were unrelated to Will, which means that they were motivated by him in yet to be revealed ways. Those ways could technically be heterosexual and platonic, but it remains true that a character must be impacted by the other's actions. Both must be or it doesn't serve enough of a purpose and it has been poorly written, a waste of time for the character receiving.

If all he needed was to feel loved by Will or to be encouraged, Will did not need to have feelings for him.

If I rewatched this show for Mlvn, Will wouldn't even be an obstacle they overcame, which he should be. Either Will's feelings for Mike and El make Mike and El stronger than they would have been without them or they exist to be satisfied and reciprocated. Those are the only two options, and as it exists, Mike and El do not have a threat to their relationship to be overcome as their entire issue has been resolved - "4 seasons of buildup", right? They did it. It's finished. And that wasn't Will's service to the plot. He DID have impact on it. But his romantic feelings did not. They had 0 bearing on his ability to help get them where they needed to be. His 4x05 advice on telling the truth was about him being gay, not his feelings, and what he passed on from El had no reason to not be true.

Will's feelings have no impact on their romantic relationship. We've covered that his queerness is important but his feelings are useless to his arc whether he ends up with someone else or not (he could have realized through an endgame boy or through Tom Cruise, it could have been anything and didn't need a stepping stone realization boy, let alone set-back heartbreak), but we need to also acknowledge that they have no impact on Mike and El's relationship, or anyone else at all for that matter.

If they do not end up together, his feelings are effectively useless. If you wanted active representation of life without actionable messages or themes, watch a movie about somebody's honest to God day to day that has no purpose or plot, just then going to work coming home cooking and going to sleep. I mean, it's accurate.

Bringing it back to Little Women comparisons, if Mike and El are endgame then that would make Will Jo instead of Amy. But Mike is still Laurie. And part of what drives Laurie is having the comparison of a different kind of love, even if romantic, to contrast his with Amy when he finds it, and his heartbreak matures him to where he needs to be when he reaches her. But this all requires him to have had feelings for the Jo character, and even if the contrast were used to show the difference between platonic and romantic, he would at some point have had to be unsure of that with the Jo character. The perceived romance with Jo would have also had to explicitly come first. These are all things that would have had to happen already.

There is one season left, yes. But the way the conflicts and timing have been written, it is already too late for Will's feelings to impact their relationship - that they would not been together in the end without his feelings for Mike specifically driving them towards each other, the same way I expect Steve's to be a wake-up call for Nancy.

Will's feelings would have to teach Mike or El something that brings them closer and overcome a previous internal threat to their relationship. But they overcame his threat without even knowing about his romantic feelings and as a result of actions that were not dependent on them - Will could have even said the exact same painting speech but as himself platonically, the hiding is what makes it romantic. They overcame it before Will's feelings could even get involved. So, yes, there is a 5th season. But they're supposedly closer than ever with the multi-season threat to their relationship gone, and they did it without the impact of his romantic feelings, so

They are useless. They are painful, unactionable, and simply would be a drag to rewatch - which is the opposite of their leading intention with this show. UNLESS, Mike reciprocates.

To be useful is to change the course of the story. Will did change the course through his encouragements. Will did not change the course by any use of his romantic feelings. Meaning from HERE, the course needs to be changed...and Mike and El's doesn't need any more fixing. So which direction do we go for them now?

I think that answers itself, there is only one. Away. We move away.

Will must break them up, it is the only thing left for them to do. And there is only one way that he could do that that cannot be saved.

Will's romantic feelings are useless to all parties unless Mike reciprocates and it is too late to make them useful if he doesn't. In fact, the only way they have been useful up until this point is if his feelings already posed a threat to their relationship, only possible by reciprocation.

"Mike is unimpacted by Will's feelings!" Really? Because if Mike and El were endgame he would actually HAVE to be.

If Mike had already had romantic feelings for Will, Mlvn endgame would be more likely. He didn't. His feelings are useless to every character in the show. Professional writers don't write useless things.

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Scar erasure is horror is so peak, never seen it used? Lil bit of body horror. Give it to Mark Grayson, why not <3

Debbie be defined by something OTHER than men challenge (failed). I am so tired. Make her a person. Please. Can she ever be a person? Can she please?

Oliver does scream plot device, which I feel neutral for, small children tend to be I suppose. Tho it irritates me more when his actions/thoughts don't actually reflect how he's parented by Debbie and/or Mark. Which we've discussed before already, but what really ticks me off is why he looks like a purple human child. Cosplay dye gone wrong ass baby. Who dunked him in grape juice. NOBODY IS PURPLE. And I KNOW this isn't a unique mutation thing because they NEVER bring up how being a hybrid impacts their biology/culture/genes/what have you (at least in show?). THRAXANS ARE ALL BLUE. They're not even different shades of blue. HE'S PURPLE. I am calming myself down. I am calm. Back to the point, Cecil raising Oliver is such a concept...scribbling that down for a oneshot cause, truly, what would that look like? Though, there's something so funny about Oliver still being a little shit and Mark blaming himself anyway. He's such a guilt magnet (affectionate).

AND GASP. Mark failing so hard at raising Oliver, rather than dragging Debbie into it, it's CECIL? The fucked up parental/mentor dynamic of the CENTURY? HELLO? You can't just say this to me, my brain is spinning. At what point does he realize he's over his head? Like, does Cecil get an emergency call only to realize it's a sleep deprived, painfully frantic Mark trying to ask him how to put a shrieking, fussy toddler to sleep? Cecil refusing to change diapers. What does that look like, omg. Does Oliver live there at the GDA and Mark starts visiting like crazy, and there's in-house babysitters designated to Oliver? Shared custody omg. I can potentially see Cecil agreeing only to use as leverage, Mark owes him, and Oliver can be potentially loyal to him?

Why would Oliver be so aware? And, yeah, it's the framing of his origins that's driving my curiosity, here. Because yeah, if he remembers the utter destruction of his own home and his dad's people killing others, would he not have some hostility towards Nolan? Like, is Nolan just described as a "bad guy"? A hero who did "bad things"? Have they ever tried framing murder/death/etc in a way Oliver can understand, he's a child, no? Like how does Oliver like his dad so much? HOW???? Is Mark telling Oliver the fun stories about their dad as he processes how he feels about Nolan? Like it'd be one thing if Debbie doesn't talk about it at all + Mark can't process the full what Nolan did, thus telling romanticized stories. Then it makes Mark's inability to articulate why it's so bad make sense, because he has to face what Nolan did to others/him/Debbie/etc himself. But that's not what they're doing here? This is why this show makes me squint. They just have a dynamic but not how we got here, and it's not quite clear why they'd even act that way to cause this outcome.

CHEW HIS FOOD? I FORGOT THAT?? JUSTICE FOR DEBBIE? WHAT ABOUT A BLENDER BRUH? Also fr, Debbie did SO MUCH for this AFFAIR CHILD and this mf names himself Omni-Man Junior/The kid whatever. TRULY WHERE DID HE? It can't even be a "oh viltrumites genetically/biologically find it difficult to emphasize," 'cause look at Mark??? HE'S ALSO A HYBRID? Why wouldn't Debbie point out Mark used to be the same way if she's raised both? Nolan, like you said, ruined lives. Ruined Andressa's! Oliver would REMEMBER THAT ??? Oliver would SEE any article / post / video about Nolan is HIM DESTROYING ANOTHER CITY? Outright trying to kill his BROTHER. If anything, Oliver could've been so hostile to Nolan he'd want to kill him, just SAYING that, and not quite understanding the depth of death/murder, THUS Mark's inability to refute that THEN stems from a) the shock b) dealing with the thought he doesn't want his Dad to die and still misses him c) acknowledging his Dad has continuously hurt people and hasn't stopped yet, would that be right? Boom, morality dilemma. Or, solidify Mark TRYING to be consistently anti-kill, batman style.

Like this can work, at least for me, but the current setup is confusing????

Also give Oliver ability to make insect-like sounds. Like legit anything. I'm trying to push through wip's, and I keep including Oliver makes a clicking sound (like predator movies) as a baby 'cause it's a noise Thraxans can make, like give me something different??? WHY IS A PURPLE CHILD.

Also curious how you're finding the newest 4th episode! :)

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

[alkemylabz]

when wide scale political protests happen again i want every white fanfic writer out there to shut the fuck up

[doesnotloveyou]

"why is my fave actor still in a dumb franchise 😢" there's this lil important thing called CONTRACT LAW where, if you are 22 and you sign up to do say 11 movies in a franchise (*cough* Sebastian Stan), but the contract doesn't say when those movies will release....you could still be stuck in that franchise into your 50's

"oh, they really love the franchise that's why they're still in it 🤡" could be, or could be they signed their life away to it and have little choice. if they rely on the franchise for their income---a number which can go up or down---they better not talk trash

"why would such a good actor pick such a stinker film???"

they read an amazing script, signed up to be in the film, but NO LAW says the studio cannot completely change the script, their character, and everything else about the movie after they've signed

they heard that an actor/director they like will be in it, or were directly asked to join by someone on the project they respect

they genuinely need the paycheck (which CAN be protected by law) the same way other people work at McDonald's

they wanted to try something new (some actors do get bored, guys)

they prefer indies where the managers are dedicated to the craft not the box office lottery

shockingly, their every move is NOT dictated by strangers on the internet, aka fans

[sweetandsourcookies]

lying here in bed and thinking abt how alienated out i feel in the cookie run fandom. and then theres a polish sitcom playing in the background from a different room.

[puppppppppy]

Atla live action 😐

[grinchwrapsupreme]

being super normal about White calling Billy "a dreamer"after the events of Maybe No Go

[mamawasatesttube]

you guys i have so many thoughts about tdr. i have so much to say. like i don't want to be super mean but dude that comic fucking sucks and i can't lie i think it made me kind of homophobic actually

[smile-files]

this might be a hot take... but if you care about disavowing media made by bad people out of fear of looking like a bad person yourself more than you care about actually doing good things... you might have your priorities (and your morals) screwed up a bit :/

(see my tags for more of my thoughts on this topic! please try to avoid making make bad-faith assumptions about what i mean!)

[thedevotionaltour]

karen is MY special white woman. my problematic fave. because i understand why she sucks. i think in order to be allowed to be a karen fan you have to actually understand why she sucks. if you don't understand why she sucks then you're a bad karen fan i think.

[aroacettorney]

when will aup sidestories return from war and stop leaving me bitter about how the main story ended

[dreampearls]

honestly I went into the sumeru archon quest ready to hate nahida or at the very least be very indifferent to her bc I was so like. Tired of how blatantly orientalist every aspect of sumeru seemed to be + nahidas design compounded w the fact that she's an archon using the chibi model reaaaalllly did not leave a good impression. .....However !! ! I actually ended up really liking her as a character despite my reservations. i think she might be my favorite archon if I'm going to be honest

[bitchthefuck1]

have you watched the pjo show?

I saw the first 2 episodes when they came out at a watch party one of my friends threw, and as soon as they ended I realized I didn't particularly care to keep going. It wasn't like, outrageously bad by any means, I just don't think it gripped me enough to want to continue, and there were enough odd adaptational choices that I thought weakened the story that I lost interest. I might have tuned back in if the changes actually built to something interesting in the later episodes, but from everything I've seen it kinda seems like they just took the teeth out of the story, which was what I was worried about.

That being said, the cast seems really great and well suited to their roles, so like, if they improve the writing and pacing in the later seasons and stop sanding down all the rough edges, I might pick it back up. But otherwise, pass.

[nullians]

I sometimes still catch myself thinking “Man, I just wanna die” (I know this is not true) but then I see my mother and go “No, I just wanna live without these people around me” and then I do one dig deeper and make peace with what I really mean and that’s “I have to outlive you because I fucking deserve to have a life outside of this bullshit” and yeah. Much better. It doesn’t help that both of them (grandmother and mother) like to occasionally tell us their dying scenarios. Like. Thanks. Can you like. Try to not make my desire to flee worse. Because I don’t want to wish you death but it’s like. Not going to get better if you just do this. Get help.