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pprodsuga · 6 months ago

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secrets untold (part 1) | sunghoon

summary: ever since sunghoon graduated university, he’s been working the same bothersome job without any real excitement in his life. but when you move into the apartment next to his, sunghoon’s reality is turned upside down and he finds himself running all over korea with you by his side. as he comes to learn, not everything is as it seems.

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

notes: ahhhhh. four revisions later and i’ve managed to write the best version of this story. i also made a playlist that you should definitelyyyy listen to while reading this. there’s nothing left for me to say other than i love sunghoon and i hope you enjoy. xx

SECRETS UNTOLD PLAYLIST

WORD COUNT: 24.1K

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to my lovely best friend @moonstruck-muses for helping me on my revisions, for brainstorming with me, and for being the best person i know.

consider leaving a comment (or two) and reblogging! x

warnings under the cut!

content warnings: mentions and descriptions of guns and a blood wound, violence in the form of hand-to-hand combat and gunshots, descriptions of stitches, alcohol use.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Just once does Sunghoon wish for something exciting in his life.

Day in and day out, he swipes his keycard to enter the lobby of the high-rise building he calls his workplace and locates his secluded office by the back of the floor. His name sits in gold lettering, the prestigious plaque gifted to him upon his promotion a few years prior. Sunghoon’s morning begins by opening his laptop to note all of the reports he has yet to finish from the day before and checks his email for any lingering questions from clients or his co-workers. Despite his diligence, his peers aren’t and he finds himself picking up the slack more often than not. Being a financial analyst was not on Sunghoon’s bucket list of goals to achieve in his twenties. In fact, Sunghoon would rather do almost anything other than look at numbers all day and tell people what to do with them.

If he had his way, Sunghoon would have chosen a career path less rigorous and numerical-based. He would’ve tried his hand at photography and studied the fine arts to garner a career in the editorial space, or perhaps he would use his time at university to study the history of coffee before opening his own shop in the busy city of Seoul. But his parents had other plans for him, namely to study law, medicine, or finance, and the latter of the three options seemed less boring to him.

His years of studying lead him here, at Kim Search Group, crunching numbers that mean absolutely nothing to him.

The glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose become bothersome after an hour of staring at his laptop. His next meeting is in twenty minutes and he’s less than pleased when he realizes his reports are on the docket. The agenda stares back at him in hard, black letters like they’re taunting him. Sunghoon thinks they mock him with the way the cursor hovers over the parts highlighted for his portion of the presentation. Nonetheless, Sunghoon acquires what he needs and heads to the meeting room.

Everybody arrives early as usual. His boss concludes the opening remarks and lets his employees take the floor. One by one, Sunghoon’s co-workers stand in the front of the room and report their findings and other related topics from the past month. It all sounds the same to him; every person in this room looks like they could be carbon copies of one another with their suits too expensive and cologne too strong. It makes Sunghoon nauseous. Everybody here lives for everyone else instead for themselves, himself included.

“Good work, Park,” his boss tells him on the way out of the meeting room. “I grow impressed by your work ethic and capabilities everyday.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kim,” Sunghoon says with a bow.

“Do you think you can finish the Kang-Yoon reports by tonight? Our clients will be here first thing tomorrow morning to review before they decide on their purchase. I’d love to get them a first draft of their financial report when they come in.”

With a tight smile, Sunghoon nods. “Sure thing. I’ll email it to you tonight.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Mr. Kim winks. He nudges Sunghoon’s arm like they’re old friends.

By the time he gets home, it’s nearly nine in the evening. His tie sits loosely around his neck and his suit jacket is thrown haphazardly over his arm with the too-expensive briefcase his father bought him when he had been promoted. Sunghoon can’t help but scoff when he sees the dark brown leather staring back at him.

Sunghoon lives in a quiet part of town, just on the outskirts of Seoul. His neighbors are either asleep by the time the sun goes down or busy juggling children with muffled laughter echoing in the hallways. Typically, Sunghoon expects to come home and enter his apartment lobby to be greeted by the doorman who wishes him a good night, take the elevator to the third floor, and tidy his living room while trying to undress himself in the meantime.

Except, you’ve moved into the apartment next to his.

Now, Sunghoon walks with excitement because he anticipates running into you when he’s on his way up. Sometimes you both arrive at the lobby together. Other times it’s you that he sees unlocking his door when he approaches. It doesn’t matter to him, though. The only good thing about working late on the weekdays is that he gets to run into you when he comes home.

He quickly learns that you like to keep to yourself. You aren’t a loud person–not like his neighbor who lives on the other side of him–because he barely hears your footsteps and never hears you watching television. The most he’s heard is the scrape of a chair against hardwood floors.

Above all, Sunghoon thinks you’re cute. You make his heart flutter for no good apparent reason. He’s barely spoken a word to you beyond introducing himself when you first moved in and yet he finds himself pacing his living room, wondering what kind of food you like to eat and what you do on the weekends.

Sunghoon wishes he could come up with something witty to say to convince you to keep talking to him. But even seeing you in your well-worn clothes and tires expression on a Wednesday night is enough to leave him flustered.

“Hey,” Sunghoon says awkwardly with a single nod in acknowledgement when he sees you standing in front of your apartment. He watches your hand halt by the knob. You turn your head to look around you and Sunghoon feels the heat creep up his neck.

“Hi?” you say with an uptick in your voice, pointing at yourself.

Sunghoon nods. “Hey.”

“You already said that.”

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m Sunghoon.”

“I know. I remember you from when I moved in.”

“O-Oh,” Sunghoon stutters. “Right, yeah. You’re right. Well, I’ll introduce myself again in case you need anything.”

You unlock your apartment and step inside. “Duly noted. Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

When the door locks behind you, Sunghoon closes his eyes and curses at the ceiling for being awkward around you. He swears he might’ve felt his knees buckle when he looked into your eyes and struggles to fish out his apartment keys.

He always wishes he could say something that would convince you to stay in the hallway just a minute longer. He wants to be courageous enough to ask a question that piques your interest, so much so that he invites you back to his apartment to discuss it over a bottle of soju before you head back to your place. But Sunghoon doesn’t do any of that because he always gets tongue-tied when he realizes you’re standing before him, and because you always close the door before he can even think of something else to say to you. Sunghoon sighs in defeat and loosens his tie as soon as he steps through the threshold of his own apartment.

He sleeps with the sound of crickets chirping outside his window.

The following morning is the same. Sunghoon wakes up before the sun has the chance to say hello, swipes his keycard to access his office, and stares at his laptop until he’s sure his eyes will fall out of their sockets.

While he meanders in his office with an unusually meeting-free day, Sunghoon uses his idle time to think about you. It seems as if his thoughts gravitate towards you these days, especially as he’s gathered the courage to say more than a few words every time you’re in his line of sight. He still feels that anxiety in the pit of his stomach when he sees you with your hair down after a long day, but it’s not enough to discourage Sunghoon from being as polite as he can so that you remember him as being kind.

If he remembers correctly, you moved into the apartment next to his four months ago. Sunghoon recalls seeing a load of boxes perched by your front door and the bubbling excitement of seeing the new tenant piqued his interest. A large one was used as a door stopper and he’d noticed you carrying boxes inside one-by-one. In fact, that’s the first and only time Sunghoon recalls seeing what the interior of your apartment looked like. White, bare, and undecorated. He had offered to help but you declined on the notion that you hired movers to help bring the rest of your belongings. The two of you exchanged names and pleasantries, and when the conversation fell flat, Sunghoon settled to welcome you into the neighborhood and told you to reach out if you ever needed anything. Much to his dismay, you didn’t.

It’s crazy for him to think about how tongue-tied he’s gotten for a complete stranger over a short period of time, even crazier because he doesn’t know the first thing about you.

It’s gotten so bad that his friends have heard Sunghoon speak about you countless times.

Jay and Jake are his best friends from college and the only people he talks to. Sunghoon’s career has overtaken his social life with many friendships and blooming relationships falling apart because of his commitment to work. His degree is the product of parental expectation, but his paycheck is enough to make him feel comfortable and Sunghoon likes to surround himself with people who don’t make him feel like a stoic shell of a human being.

It seems as though Jay and Jake aren’t tired of him because they regularly include him in drinking nights and check in about his nonexistent relationship with his neighbor crush. Jay in particular is extremely vocal about having work-life balance in order to, as he puts it, “have a life for yourself before you grow old and die alone.”

For now, however, Sunghoon is happy watching you from afar and praying that there’s a reason for the two of you to become closer.

It’s another Tuesday night and Sunghoon is staying late again. Mr. Kim is too, so Sunghoon supposes tonight must not be all that bad if his superior has ordered takeout for himself for the late hours. Sunghoon arrives at his apartment around the same time he always does and prepares himself for a well deserved, deep slumber before he does this again tomorrow. Only, Sunghoon hopes he sees you before he’s off to dreamland.

And there you are, unlocking your apartment door. You look far too cute at nine in the evening. It’s unfair.

“Hey,” Sunghoon calls out to you, throat far too dry to continue speaking. He pulls his keys out of his pockets to keep himself busy when he feels your eyes burning into him.

“That’s the second time you’ve started a conversation by saying that.” Sunghoon whips his head in your direction to be met with a charming smile that seems almost playful. It’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him like this and he swears he feels his knees buckle.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “I guess I’m running out of things to say after a long day at work.”

“Is it that bad?”

Sunghoon breathes out a laugh. “I’m a financial analyst. Long hours and not a lot of socializing, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, I believe it.” You put your keys in the lock and push the door open. “Can’t say I’m a big fan of math.”

“It all starts to look the same after a while but you get used to it. Crunching all those numbers…I feel like I’m saving the world,” Sunghoon says facetiously.

“Well, I'm sure you’re a superhero to someone.”

“I highly doubt it, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

“I hope tomorrow is kinder,” you tell him as you walk into your apartment. “Don’t let those numbers get you down.”

“Goodnight,” he calls after as you close the door with a friendly smile.

Sunghoon is barely able to make it into his apartment when his cheeks start to hurt from how wide he’s stretched the lower half of his face. As he stares at your shared wall, he feels a sense of excitement and pride swell in his chest upon replaying his conversation with you over and over again. He paces in his living room with the image of your grin etched in his memory and eats a quick meal before getting ready for bed.

Sunghoon sleeps with a smile on his face.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When the weekend approaches, Jay and Jake accompany Sunghoon to a bar across from his apartment on a rare Friday night at eight o-clock on the dot.

For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon leaves his office right on time with no prospect of having to work later in the evening or on the weekend. His friends convince him to go to the dive bar and celebrate his early dismissal with a drink or two. Sunghoon doesn’t remember the last time he saw them so casually like this because he’s either still at the office or too tired to agree to their plans.

Each of them have at least two drinks in their system. The bar food is starting to digest and the chips are a little too stale for Sunghoon’s liking but Jay and Jake don’t seem to mind as they keep shoveling them into their mouths in between conversations. The two of them seem far too energetic for Sunghoon to keep up and the exhaustion from the past week is finally catching up to him.

“Work has been killing me,” Jake groans while clutching his beer bottle. “You know how I just passed my two-year mark at the Seoul Research Center? Well, my boss assigned me an apprentice who’s interning for the semester and he’s just not cut out for this kind of stuff. I have to remind him about basic protocol every single time we work together.”

“That blows,” Jay says.

“I babysit him more than I do my actual work and I’ve been going in on Saturdays to finish my work. My boss told me not to fuck this up because this kid is apparently the son of one of the investors and plans to work here full time after he graduates college. This is gonna blow up in my face, guys. I just know it.” Jake sighs. “But what about you both? What have you been up to?”

“Some idiot misfiled a bunch of expense reports and I’m responsible for managing them.” Jay rolls his eyes and slumps back in his seat. “I’m good at my job, I know I am. I bring in clients like it’s nobody’s business but because I’m the youngest on my team, all of the managerial tasks are put on me. I mean, we have a secretary for a reason and that’s literally in the job description. Why can’t they do it?”

“Guess this is a bad week for both of us,” Jake says with a light chuckle. “I look forward to the weekend when I realize it’s Monday.”

“What about you, Sunghoon? How are things with you and the firm?”

The condensation of his drink feels nice against Sunghoon’s palm. Jay and Jake are looking at him expectantly and he knows the topic would come around to his job at one point or another. He plasters a small smile on his face and tries to answer as honestly as possible.

“Same old, same old. I’ve only been working late a few days every other week. It’s not as taxing as it was before.”

“Are the higher ups still giving you a hard time?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’m only responsible for seven junior analysts. They’re all competent enough and get their work done on time. I don’t really have to look after them like my colleagues and thank god for that.”

“I’m still rooting for you to quit your job,” Jay encourages.

“I’ll quit my job when you quit yours.”

“Touche.” They don’t press him about it anymore.

“Any update on the hottie next door?” Jake asks.

“Don’t call Y/N that,” Sunghoon scolds. “You make her sound like a hooker.”

Jake shrugs. “You said she was hot.”

“I said she was pretty.”

“So you don’t think she’s hot?” Sunghoon rolls his eyes as the other two laugh at him from across the booth. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. It’s fun to see you all riled up.”

“There’s something incredibly wrong with you.”

“Okay, enough with Jake.” Jay pushes his friend to the back of the booth to get closer to Sunghoon with both elbows on the table. “On a serious note, have you talked to her yet?” Sunghoon closes his eyes shut in shame and grimaces. “I’ll take it as a no?”

“Oh we talked,” he says, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling above him. “I actually grew a pair and talked to her when I came home.”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“I started the only conversations we’ve had by saying ‘hey’ like a virgin loser.” Sunghoon groans before facing his friends again. “She called me out on it too.”

“Ouch,” Jake winces. “That bad?”

“Well, she laughed and we talked about my job a little. She called me a superhero for dealing with math.”

Jay shrugs. “You kind of are.”“Did anything else happen?” Jake asks. “Did she invite you over? Did you invite her over?”

“Slow down, Jaeyun. Not everyone is as pathetically desperate as you are.”

Sunghoon laughs. “No, I didn’t invite her over. I also didn’t go to her place. But she said she hoped the next day would be kinder so I think that’s a good sign?”

“Dude, you’re thinking way too hard about this. That’s like, the best kind of sign. It means she cares about you.”

“I wouldn’t go so far to say that. Maybe the next time I see her, I won’t be such a fucking loser.” Sunghoon finishes his drink.

“Well, maybe you won’t be so tongue tied now that you guys are familiar with each other,” says Jake. “She knows something about you now.”

“But I don’t know anything about her,” Sunghoon groans.

“That’s why you make small talk, Hoon. Maybe try asking Y/N about her day and see where that takes you.”

“Y/N seems like the kind of person to keep to herself. She’s always so quiet.”

“Maybe she’s just a quiet person, then,” Jay adds. “You know, someone you have to get to know in order to get them out of their shell.”

“I’m so bad at talking to girls.” Sunghoon chastises himself and nods when the waiter signals to ask if he’d like another beer. “I get in my own head and end up making a fool of myself.”

“If words fail, just smile at her and use your good looks,” Jake teases. The waiter brings the three of them fresh, cold bottles. Sunghoon takes a long sip and savors the flavor as it slides down his throat. The coolness of the liquid provides a nice contrast to his warm face.

“I couldn’t tell you why I'm so hung up on Y/N. When I see her, I feel like my feet are planted into the floor and nothing I want to say comes out of my mouth.”

“That, my friend, is what it’s like to have a crush,” Jay says. “I mean, you remember the time Jake had a crush on his lab partner in sophomore year, right? The one time he brought her coffee, he ended up spilling it on her white shirt.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jake groans. “But God, I’m really no better.”

“You’re not the only one feeling like this, man.” Jay takes a drink. “Maybe you should take it as slow as you are right now, you know? Start by talking to her before you both go your separate ways. Maybe you’ll be comfortable enough to ask her on a date.”

Sunghoon laughs humorlessly. “God, I’ve been pining after this girl for so long and I don’t know a single thing about her other than her name. What if I never get to know her? What if she moves away and we don’t keep in touch? Or worse, what if she's dating somebody? What if she’s not into guys?”

“Well, I don’t think we can help there,” Jake shrugs.

“I mean, I’d be bummed but I wouldn’t be upset.”

“You would totally be upset.”

“Okay,” Sunghoon says. “Maybe a little upset.”

“There’s no use in thinking about what-ifs,” Jay advises. “You’ll only give yourself a headache.”

“My mom keeps asking about when I’m gonna get a wife,” Sunghoon complains. “Every time we talk on the phone, I can tell she humors the pleasant talk about my job and life because she becomes really animated when she asks that question. How do I tell her that I’m so fucking hung up on my neighbor that the thought of dating anyone else repulses me?”

“Damn,” Jay swears. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”

“Yes, and it’s really fucking frustrating to pine after her because I barely know her and I’m ready to drop everything if she called me right now.”

“Maybe she’s not worth it,” Jake says with a shrug. “I know that’s the last thing you want to hear, but maybe there’s a reason why you haven’t been able to make a move on her. Maybe you guys aren’t good for each other and the universe is trying to tell you that. I don’t know.”

“I just wish someone would send me a sign,” Sunghoon pleads. “I don’t really know what sign, but something that’ll make us talk more. I need courage. I just need one chance. If it fails and she rejects me, then I’ll be an adult and move on with my life.”

“You deserve to be happy,” says Jay. “After all the shit you’ve been through, you deserve at least to go on a date with a cute girl.”

“Everything feels so bleak these days. I go to work every single day and leave unfulfilled. It’s like I’m floating through my day to make it to the weekend just to do this every single week. Before I know it, the holidays have come and another year goes by. I feel like I’m wasting my life by being at this job but my parents sacrificed so much so that I could have the life I have now.

“I don’t know what to do, guys. Every day feels the same. I wonder if this is how my life is supposed to be for the rest of it. Life is so fucking hard and all I want is a break. I just want to feel something.”

“I wish we could give it to you,” Jay says quietly. He knocks his hands to Sunghoon’s. “You know we’re with you every step of the way, right?”

“I know. It’s just…hard.”

“You’re the best person I know, Hoon,” Jake comforts. “I’m really sorry that everything went down the way it did.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I feel like this for Y/N because I daydream about her to escape my life,” Sunghoon confesses. “I think about a future with her, and I know that sounds crazy considering I barely know her, but sometimes I wonder what it’ll be like to come home to her instead of parting ways when we get home at the same time. I think about cooking meals for her and going on dates instead of working late. I think about falling asleep next to her instead of being alone. I wonder what my life would’ve been like if my parents never forced me to study finance. Maybe Y/N and I could have a chance.”

“Or, maybe you would’ve never met her at all,” Jay says. “Maybe you would’ve never met us.”

“In another life, I’d own a coffee shop and my biggest worry would be somebody making a scene.” Sunghoon laughs. “I could deal with that.”

“Do we get free coffee for life?” Jake asks, pointing between himself and Jay. “I think bitching in dive bars all these years together means we deserve free coffee.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sunghoon teases. “But seriously, I think…I’m so tired of my life right now because I’m unhappy. There’s no excitement. There’s nothing to keep me going. Work doesn’t fulfill me and I hate it when my boss asks me to stay late. But if I quit my job, I don’t know what I’d do. My parents would disown me if I abandoned their plans for me.

“And you know, I feel so fucking selfish talking like this when there are so many people in Korea who don’t have what I have because they don’t have the means to work. I feel so guilty thinking like this when people go hungry every day because they can’t afford to eat. What kind of person does that make me? I can handle bad days so long as there’s a roof over my head.”

“Sure, but you can’t control the way you feel and your upbringing doesn’t make you a bad person,” Jay assures. “You can acknowledge that you’ve had it good in life but that doesn’t mean your struggles aren’t any less valid.”

“Yeah, and beating yourself up over it is only making you more upset. You deserve to be happy, Sunghoon. Don’t forget that.”

“Thanks, guys. I guess I’ve avoided saying how unhappy I am out loud. Sometimes it feels too much because I don’t have a second to myself. When I get home, I sleep and then the next day comes. I dread closing my eyes because that means I have to work the next day.”

“One step at a time,” Jay says. “We’ll be there with you until you figure out what to do next.”

“You guys mean the world to me. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake says, hiding his blush. “We know.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Another week goes by and Sunghoon is disappointed because not once did he run into you.

He doesn’t know if the universe has it against him or what it is about his conversation with his friends that has left him feeling so empty these past few days. Leaving the bar with alcohol and hope in his system had Sunghoon feeling like he was on top of the world and that everything would fall into place if he willed it enough. But upon coming home on Monday evening and the nights after that, he didn’t see you at your door.

Sunghoon wonders if his life was always supposed to be like this–stagnant to the point where he feels numb, like he's supposed to be a cog in the machine until the day he retires. Even then, Sunghoon wonders if he’ll be happy when he’s finally able to stop being miserable. His greatest fear is looking back at his life and seeing a plethora of unhappy moments instead of achieving what he wanted for himself. He’s afraid of taking his last breath, regretting the relationships he let fall through the cracks and not choosing a life that he wanted to live in favor of making his parents happy.

He wonders if there’s more to his life than feeling alone all the time. He wonders if he’ll regret marrying the person he spends the rest of his life with if he continues down this path, so aggravated by his mother’s inquiries about his love life that he’ll ask the first girl who shows interest in him to marry him. Sunghoon doesn’t know when he’ll stop feeling like an empty shell of a human being and he can’t remember the last time he was truly happy.

Everyday, Sunghoon feels like he’s on autopilot. It feels as though someone else has taken control of his life and he’s completing the orders of somebody else against his will. It’s hard to push back against his norm when he’s got nobody to stand behind him. Knowing his parents would be disappointed in him if he abandoned the life he worked hard for is enough for Sunghoon to remain afraid of changing anything.

He’s snapped out of his daydreams when he hears you come home. This is the first time that you’ve arrived later than he has, to his knowledge, and he wonders if you’ve had dinner. It’s a Friday night and he thinks about if you’ve got any plans for later in the evening.

Sunghoon stares at the television screen and lets the colorful animation fly right over his head as he contemplates his next move. He’s itching to invite you over with all of the unopened bottles of soju he has in his fridge, thanks to Jake buying a case for him at the start of the week. All of the thoughts about how his life feels desolate is enough to convince him that he might have enough courage to invite you over for drinks.

Without thinking too much about it, Sunghoon stands from his spot on the couch and grabs two bottles from his fridge. He pays no mind to the cold sensation against his palms, nor does he care that he’s walking in the hallway in his pajamas and slippers. Sunghoon shoves down any nervousness as he knocks on your doors and figures he has nothing to lose, even if you reject him. He hears your feet shuffling behind the door before you open it.

“Sunghoon?” you say with an uptick in your voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, clearing his throat. Sunghoon holds up the soju bottles, where the condensation has begun running down the side of the glass and onto his fingers. “I, uh, have a few bottles because a friend bought them for me and don’t want to drink them by myself. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have a drink with me.”

You peer up at him and Sunghoon feels like you’re inspecting him. He avoids running back to his apartment despite his mind telling him to hide. It’s at this moment that Sunghoon realizes he’s putting his heart on his sleeve.

“I’d love to,” you agree. “Would you mind giving me a few minutes? I want to change into something more comfortable.” Sunghoon looks at your attire and you’re still dressed like you’ve just come back from work.

“Yes,” he nods. “Of course. Take all the time you need. Just knock on my door when you’re ready.”

You give him a smile that makes him feel like his heart might burst right out of his chest.

He anxiously waits for you and pulls out his speaker, connecting his phone to play at an appropriate volume. Sunghoon sifts through his playlists until he lands on one that he’s satisfied with and pockets his phone, anxiously pacing around the living room until he hears you knock.

“You look cozy,” he comments, seeing your pajama pants and a sweater that looks a bit too oversized on your body. Sunghoon tries his best to keep himself from making you uncomfortable and steps aside to let you in.

“I hope it’s okay that I brought my own slippers.” He looks down to see your purple ones. “I felt kind of weird putting my shoes on when you’re only a few steps away from me.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Sunghoon brings out two shot glasses from his cabinets and sets them down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

You sit politely on the couch while Sunghoon opens a bottle of peach soju and pours a shot in both glasses. He’s slightly buzzed from previously drinking alone and chuckles when he sees your leg crossed over the other, handing one of the glasses to you. His usual, awkward demeanor is relinquished with the alcohol in his system already.

“Here, I think you’ll need a shot or two to loosen up.” You laugh when you hear the glass clink against his before drinking.

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

He raises his eyebrow. “This?”

“Drink,” you clarify. “And get to know somebody completely off the bat.”

“Well, I’d say we’re pretty acquainted.” Sunghoon pours another shot for himself and beckons you to bring yours over. “We’ve been neighbors for a few months and we know each other’s names. I think we know each other pretty well.”

“Your definition of knowing someone well is different from mine. But maybe I’ll need to take a page or two out of your book.” The two of you clink glasses and drink together.

“You know, I was a little nervous about asking you to hang out,” Sunghoon confesses, sitting on the couch with a respectable distance between the two of you. “You’re the only neighbor I see regularly. It’s nice to see a familiar face from time to time.”

You take the bottle from Sunghoon. “I think you might be the only person I’ve spoken to, really. Well, except for the doorman.”

“Love that guy.” Sunghoon lets you pour liquid into his shot glass and the two of you take another shot together.

“I don’t feel like I’ve gotten to know a lot of the people here. But it’s a big building and so much is always happening. I feel like I’m playing catch up every time people greet me when we’re in the elevator together.”

“You get used to it. There are people from all walks of life who live here and sometimes it’s hard to remember who’s who.”

“I moved in a few months ago, as you know, and I feel like I’m just barely starting to get to know the neighborhood. Do you know Mrs. Kang from 31B? Apparently, her grandson owns a noodle shop just two blocks from here and she swears it’s a neighborhood staple.”

“It’s a small hole in the wall that gets the job done,” Sunghoon nods. “It’s pretty good but they close so early.”

You frown. “That’s a shame.”

“What do you do for work, if you don’t mind me asking? We run into each other at the same time most of the week so I figured you might have a night job, or something.”

“I work as security at the Seoul Metropolitan Library and I usually cover the night shifts because people rarely volunteer for them.”

Sunghoon pours more soju in the glasses. “Oh, really? That’s pretty cool. Do you like working there?”

“It’s a comfortable job that pays decently well. It isn’t the most exciting job but it’s a means to an end, you know?”

Sunghoon immediately drinks his shot. “I know it all too well.”

You follow suit. “Is your job really that bad?”

“I don’t want to bore you with the details, or anything. I invited you over because I thought we could be friends.”

You look at him, amused. “Sunghoon, it’s a Friday night and we’re both staying indoors to drink. This is the perfect time to bitch and moan about your job.”

“Well, shit. In that case, I think we’ll need to finish this bottle off and get another two.”

He leaves you on the couch when the two of you finish the bottle and brings out two more, along with some dry snacks he found in his kitchen. He brings them over on a stray to avoid cleaning a mess while he’s inebriated and sets it on the table in front of you. By now, you’ve taken the liberty to sink to the floor and rest your back on the couch. Sunghoon hides behind a grin at the notion that you might already be comfortable around him.

“Alright, I’ll need to be significantly more drunk to talk about work. You absolutely don’t have to drink more if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, grabbing the bottle from him before pouring yourself another shot. “It’s no fun to drink alone.” Sunghoon’s cheeks burn as he watches you swallow the liquid, forcing himself to focus on anything but you to avoid choking on his own spit.

Sunghoon’s mind is already hazy from the head start he had but he can’t deny that you look like the epitome of comfort in your oversized hoodie and pajama pants. He wonders if this is what you must look like when you get home from work and if you’re somebody who likes to sleep with the blankets tucked just underneath your chin. He wills himself to stop daydreaming when he hears you put the glass on the table.

“My job is soul-sucking,” Sunghoon begins. “Everyday is the same and I sit in my office contemplating on jumping out of my window if that means I stop being so miserable every time I open my eyes.”

“You work in finance, right?”

He nods, touched that you remembered. “I do. To sum it up, my job is basically to tell people whether or not they’re spending their money wisely to make a profit. It’s a greedy, immoral business that makes everybody miserable. Yet, everyone keeps a straight face and pretends to be happy by gloating about how much money they have or what liquid assets are in their possession.”

“Sounds tough.”

“I’m pretty good with numbers and my dad works in finance, too. I guess it runs in my blood.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to like it.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I know. But he’s set some pretty high expectations for me that seem pretty unattainable and it feels like the only way I can make him proud is by staying at this job and climbing the ranks until I become somebody’s boss.

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m living somebody’s else’s life and I’m watching from the backseat. Most days make me feel like my life runs on a loop because I experience the same kind of dread every time I wake up and get ready for work. I can’t enjoy coming home because I stay later than what’s expected of me and barely get a wink of sleep before I do it all over again.”

“I can understand that to a degree,” you say. Sunghoon watches as you fidget with the strings on your sweater. “Living for somebody else feels bleak when every day feels the same. It’s like there’s no beginning or end.”

He nods enthusiastically. “There’s no purpose in my life right now. I don’t care about our clients or that the rich are getting richer. They could give their money away to people who actually need it but don’t.”

“People who have power are greedy and that’s true no matter where you go. It doesn’t matter if it’s money or influence, politics or connections, it’s always the same.”

“I come from money too,” he admits, pouring himself another shot. Sunghoon stares at the liquid until it settles within the small glass and sighs. “My dad made a fortune in the economic boom just after he married my mom. He understands the struggle, to a degree, but I think he lost a lot of it when his career took off.

“I grew up in a gated community and never had to think twice about asking for anything because I knew I’d always get it. I was so spoiled as a kid and was always told to be grateful for what I have because not many people could say the same.” Sunghoon laughs incredulously. “God, I sound like a dipshit.”

“Maybe just a little.” The way you smile at him makes Sunghoon feel like his stomach is performing backflips.

“I realized a lot of people weren’t like me when I got to university. My best friends had part-time jobs to afford tuition while I didn’t have to. How fucked up is that? I realized the majority of the world works so hard for virtually nothing while people like me sit on power and do horrible things with it. The company I work for glorifies these kinds of people and it pains me to see who gets taken advantage of in the name of making a sale.

“I don’t say that to make you feel sorry for me, or anything,” Sunghoon says, looking at you. “Although, I’m pretty drunk at this point and can’t seem to shut up.” You pour yourself another shot and nudge your glass against his.

“The world might be a messed up place but that doesn’t mean you have to beat yourself up for it. Sometimes you need to follow what you’re told just to survive.”

“So we both know what it’s like to work in a corporate hell hole, huh?” Sunghoon asks. He chugs his shot and you follow suit.

“Something like that, yeah. In my experience, putting your head down can only last for so long. Being in that kind of environment makes a person feel like I’m a pawn in someone else’s game and I can’t speak up for myself without repercussions.”

“You fucking get it,” Sunghoon muses. He slaps his thighs like it’s a revelation. “I don’t have many friends other than the two guys I met in university because this job has cut into every part of my life. My colleagues are all people who care a little too much about their jobs and make it a mission to see who can yield the highest profit margin for clients across the board. It’s depressing, really.”

“Money makes people do crazy things. People forget their morals if that means they get a big payout.”

“I feel like I’m the only person at the company who feels like this. Everybody brags about their work. My boss always tells me I’m doing it right by keeping my success stories to myself but he doesn’t get that I feel ashamed to be doing the work that I do.”

You nod slowly. Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on the way you shift your gaze to look at the coffee table in front of you and the way your mouth parts slightly ajar like you’re about to say something. He waits patiently for you, but you don’t say anything.

“Anyway, sorry for the rant,” he apologies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or to talk that long.”

“You didn’t. You just made me think a lot about my life. I hadn’t realized that I felt the same.” Sunghoon gestures his hand, beckoning for you to continue. “Ah, my life is filled with chaos. Most days, I don’t know when to quit or when I'll be able to live a peaceful life. It feels right to hope for the best but expect the worst and I’ve grown quite tired of waiting on someone to rescue me.”

“I’m sorry you feel this way too.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know my parents growing up and I lived far from the city life up until I was sixteen. I feel like I pretend to be somebody I’m not to keep my sanity intact on most days. It’s almost like I’ll combust if I face the truth.”

“Makes you feel like a machine, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It feels like I have no personality and that my opinion doesn’t matter.”

“My colleagues make me feel like I have no voice, either. If I don’t follow the rules the way it’s written to get a job done, then I fail, even if I secure success for my client. Do you ever feel like that?”

Sunghoon watches you nod with a tired laugh. “All the time. Individuality doesn’t matter if you’re doing something to serve the purpose of the ‘greater’ good. What matters is if everyone acts accordingly.”

“It’s a fucked up world we live in, Y/N, let me tell you that.”

“I guess I’m starting to realize just how unhappy I’ve been lately. Sometimes it feels like I’m not meant to amount to anything if it’s not to make other people happy by overextending myself.”

“Don’t say that,” Sunghoon says, knocking his knee with yours. “I’m sure you’re amazing.” He watches you bite your lip to keep from smiling.

“I bet you’re amazing too, Sunghoon.”

“I don’t want to be somebody who follows orders all the time, especially when I don’t believe in them. My boss is somebody who has no values as long as money comes pouring in. He gave me a box of documents to process a few months ago. It had a thumb drive with digital records but none of them made any sense because it didn’t match the payroll for anyone in the company. I tried to look into it on my own but nothing on that drive made any sense when I compared it to financial records we keep for transparency purposes.”

Sunghoon watches your eyes snap to him. “Financial records?”

He nods. “All the names were people who worked for the company but none of the paystubs matched what we keep on file. I think he must’ve given it to me by accident because he came back a week later and asked to look at the box.”

“What happened next?”

“Something felt off about these records so I took a spare thumb drive from the office supply room and put it in that box.”

“What did you do with the actual thumb drive?”

Sunghoon purses his lips. “It’s in my bedroom. I haven’t looked at it since that day because I’m worried that the higher-ups will trace company property back to my personal laptop. I know I shouldn’t have done it and I probably should’ve given it back to my boss, but my gut was telling me something was wrong.”

You look at him with curiosity and Sunghoon can’t fathom why you must be interested. He’s even more perplexed when he sees you sitting like you haven’t taken a sip of alcohol on an empty stomach, body planted to the ground. He’s impressed with how you aren’t rocking from side to side like he is. His body feels like it’s fidgeting where he sits and he feels his head spinning with the growing silence between the both of you. You must have a high alcohol tolerance.

“Well anyway,” Sunghoon says while clearing his throat, attempting to dissolve the tension. “I don’t think I’ll be in trouble if no one notices it’s missing. I’ll probably forget about it tomorrow morning or fess up and give it to my boss when I go into work next week.”

“You should probably keep it a secret until you’re ready to provide evidence.”

He tilts his head and looks at you. “Yeah…You’re right. I’ve never told anyone this before. It’s been a secret I’ve kept for so long but I can’t trust anyone.”

“And you feel like you can trust me?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “You seem loyal. That, and I’m really drunk.”

“I don’t know about you, but my head feels like it’s spinning.”

“Y/N, you look completely sober right now.”

You laugh, the kind of laughter that comes from deep within until it bounces against Sunghoon’s walls until you’re covering your mouth with embarrassment. He wouldn’t mind hearing that again.

“Believe me, I’m pretty drunk. I just conceal it well.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sunghoon teases. “I thought I was drinking alone.”

You shake your head. “If you need a drinking buddy any time soon, you know where I live.”

“Yeah? You’d be down to do this again?” He watches you tilt your head with a smile he can’t quite decipher, but it hits him right in the chest and the alcohol in his body starts to make his neck feel warm.

“I would love that,” you say. “I can bring the alcohol next time.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Things are going well. Too well. Sunghoon can see the sun’s departure as he makes his exit from his office and down to the lobby, where the sky is turning a shade of purple. The car ride home is even more beautiful, so much so that Sunghoon doesn’t mind getting stuck in a spot of traffic on his way home. For the first time in a while, he’s had a good work day.

He thinks back to the night you were in his apartment and the excitement of a budding crush comes back to him all over again. Through his own glossy, alcohol-fueled eyes, he swears you might’ve been flirting with him when you suggested spending time with him in his apartment again. Sunghoon wonders if he’s your every waking thought like you are to him. He then wonders if he should’ve asked for your phone number before you said goodnight and retreated to your apartment.

Despite this thought, Sunghoon reckons that he’s buzzing from the excitement of getting off of work early. There’s still time for him to engage in whatever he wants to do to unwind after work. He plans on taking extra time to cook himself a big dinner and maybe catch an episode or two of the anime he’s been meaning to finish. When he’s sure you’re back in your apartment, Sunghoon considers asking if you’d be up to hanging out.

He grips his briefcase as he steps into the elevator on his way up to his apartment with a hop in his step. Sunghoon loosens his tie around his neck with his free hand and pushes his clear specks up the bridge of his nose as the elevator door opens. It’s only when he’s about to fish for his keys does he notice your apartment door slightly ajar.

Your lights are turned off. Sunghoon’s arm is still in his pocket as he reaches for his keys and the metal grows warmer as he holds it in his palm. He stands before his own door, a feeling of uncertainty ringing in his ears as he beholds the unusual sight before him. For the months that you’ve lived next to him, you have never been careless enough to leave your apartment unlocked and available to anyone who might be curious enough to enter. Your door being unlocked makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

But Sunghoon tries to rationalize with himself. You could be in your apartment with the assumption that you closed your door when you didn’t. Maybe you were in too much of a rush to get to work and didn’t take the time to close your door properly. Surely even an astute and organized person could slip up from time to time, right?

Or, maybe something is terribly wrong. Maybe you’re in need of help and can’t reach your phone. Sunghoon’s mind runs through a million scenarios, none of which make him feel any better about knowing your door is unlocked. He can partially see inside of it but he can’t see anything else inside. Sunghoon can’t see nor hear you moving in your apartment. Something must be wrong.

Fighting the comfort to dismiss it and retreat back into his apartment, Sunghoon grips his briefcase and shoves his keys back into the depths of his pocket. He takes a careful step forward and feels his balance faltering, wondering if you really did forget to lock the door on your way to work. Still, he thinks it’s better to check if you’re okay before closing your door and telling you about it when you come home. Slowly, Sunghoon uses his free hand to open the door slightly. He pushes his head in and takes a look around but sees nothing out of the ordinary.

“Y/N?” he calls out, opening the door enough to let his body through. “Are you in here?”

Sunghoon talks into your apartment and peers around the corner by the hallway when he feels arms around his neck.

His life flashes before his eyes when he realizes he isn’t alone. The arms around his body feel far too big and muscular to be yours. Sunghoon tries to hit the stranger with his briefcase, but the angle falters and causes him to drop it onto the floor. He grips the assailant’s arm with his fingers in an attempt to pry them off of him until his own fingers feel close to numb. Sunghoon’s attempts prove futile, however, as the strength of the man overpowers him. He feels his breath constrict while his feet shuffle against the hardwood floor, his own voice sputtering out coughs and nonsensical phrases to get the assailant to let him go.

A force makes it so both he and the attacker stumble forward. Sunghoon falls to the ground as he coughs to regain his breath now that he’s free from the chokehold he was put in, the sound of violent gasps seeping in the air amongst the chaos behind him. As he coughs, he looks beside him and sees you land a punch to his face.

You’ve managed to close the door as you dodge the stranger’s attempts to hit and kick your body. You move expertly like you’re dancing at the same frequency, anticipating the assailant’s next move like it’s nothing. It looks like a choreographed sequence with the way you’re maneuvering to block yourself from getting hit while landing punches to the assailant’s chest until you’ve hit a sore spot, kicking the popliteal to make him surrender.

You waste no time and place the stranger’s neck between your arms. Sunghoon watches as he tries to push you off of him to no avail. He thrashes and pulls at your arm but you don’t relent, choosing to wrap your legs around his back when he stands in an attempt to rid you from his body. Sunghoon moves to where the two of you aren’t to stay from the action.

Eventually, the assailant manages to back you into a wall until you shout in pain. The small distraction allows the stranger to pull away from your grasp and run towards your window, bracing himself before breaking the glass and making a run for it.

It’s over as quickly as it began. The sound of glass shattering rings in Sunghoon’s mind as he stares at the shards littered around your floor. He rushes next to you when he notices you walking towards him. Sunghoon watches as you peer out of the window and hastily grabs onto your arm to prevent you from following the assailant out of the window.

“Are you okay?” you ask when you finally look back at him. He’s got a red patch on his jaw from being knocked in the face by an elbow, but Sunghoon’s doing well with the adrenaline that’s coursing through his veins. It's you he’s worried about.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” Sunghoon lets go of your arm. “What the fuck just happened?”

You talk away from him to turn on the overhead lights to assess the damages to your face on your wall mirror by the door that managed to survive the attack. With a split crack down the middle, you stare at the faint purple bruise on your left cheekbone and the swelling of your bottom lip. Sunghoon watches you from where you stand and uses this opportunity to catch his breath. He watches as you tilt your head to look at your once-bruiseless face, now littered with scratches, and feels an ache in his chest along with confusion.

When he looks around the room, he’s perplexed to see how empty it is. You have a single loveseat facing towards the door with your television mounted in front of it. You have a single chair and a small dining table and the walls are completely blank with no photos held up by picture frames. The open kitchen is barely functional and it seems like all you have is one of everything–one pot, one pan, one set of utensils, one plate, and one bowl–while the rest of the living room has none of your personality.

Sunghoon questions all of it. He wonders if this is the reason you’re always in a rush to get inside when he sees you unlocking the door. He thinks back to all the times the two of you have walked together and can’t recall a single time he ever saw anything other than white walls. There’s nothing on your wall except the mirror you’re standing in front of.

“What the hell just happened, Y/N?”

You turn to look at him and Sunghoon feels as if you’re trying to tell him something. He’s never seen you look like this before, so hard and controlling. He’s used to your soft laughter and easy eyes, not the sharp daggers in your irises.

“There are very bad people in the world,” you tell him cryptically. “You need to learn how to be more careful with things that aren’t yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You turn around and look at Sunghoon, averting your eyes to the mess around you both. He follows your line of sight and hears as you curse underneath your breath. The curtains that have been pulled back flutter in the wind as it starts to pick up, and suddenly the apartment starts to feel much colder because of it. While Sunghoon is visibly panicking, he’s confused as to why you aren’t.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon, but for me to tell you that, I’m going to need you to leave with me.”

“Leave with you?” he asks, stepping away from the glass shards. “What are you talking about? Why do we need to leave?”

“Because of that.” You point at the broken window. “Whoever that was will come back and finish the job if you’re not careful. If you want to live, you need to do as I say.”

“Y/N, I know we’ve been neighbors for a few months, but you’re asking me to blindly trust you after someone tried to kill me.”

“He tried to kill us, actually,” you correct. “But I see your point. Don’t leave because you trust me, then. Leave because he knows who you are and where you live, and won’t hesitate to come back.”

Sunghoon gulps. “He’s gonna come back?” You tilt your head and look at him in a way that makes him believe you can sense his confusion. You don’t step closer to him with the fear that he’d attempt to pass through you to get into the safety of his apartment. Instead, you take a deep breath.

“I’m asking you to value your life and keep living,” you say. “I saved you, Sunghoon. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head and looks away, averting his gaze to the broken window. “I can’t believe someone broke into your apartment and tried to fucking kill you. At least have the decency to act scared.”

“I’m petrified.” Sunghoon’s eyes are back on you when he hears the upstick in your voice. “But things don’t surprise you when they happen often.”

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft hum of the wind from outside and the tree branches knocking against the window frame. Sunghoon still feels like his ears are ringing and that his veins are pumping with adrenaline as he looks at you with a pained and confused expression. If you’re someone who’s had to fight men twice your size to survive, he doesn’t want to know what would happen to him if he chose to stay behind. He also doesn’t want to think about how your life likely did depend on it at one point or another.

The crush he’s harbored for you since he first saw you move in makes this whole ordeal that much more confusing. To the untrained eye, you look incapable of jumping into a fist fight nor do you look strong enough to pry a grown man off of another person. The idea of you in his head is unlike the person he sees standing before him. To Sunghoon, you are someone who likes to walk on the slow path, letting life take you wherever it sees fit. He thinks of you as a quiet, unassuming individual who accepted that, like himself, the kind of quiet life you were living was one you’d live for the rest of your life.

But he’s scared out of his mind when he sees the bruise setting on your face and the way your lips are swelling up. He watches you look around the room before heading into your bedroom, and he wonders what you must be looking for.

Your bedroom is just as bare and desolate as your living space. A single twin bed faces the door and a small nightstand with an equally small lamp sits beside it. There’s a book in one of the hollow spaces and your closet area is small, tucked away behind a door mirror that serves to cover your hanging clothes. You have nothing on your wall. No photo, no artwork, nothing that could tell Sunghoon anything about you. Sunghoon gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Y/N,” he pleads, voice cracking when he speaks. “What’s going on?”

You just look at him. “I’m sorry, Sunghoon.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? What’s there anything to be sorry about? Someone broke into your apartment and then tried to kill us.”

Your posture sinks as the weight of reality overcomes your perception. Sunghoon watches as you hold yourself back and averts his eyes when he assumes you’re about to cry to be polite. His heart lurches in his chest and he feels like he might cry too.

“I really need you to trust me.” You sound helpless and he wonders if you feel that way too. “I would never ask you to do something if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Your life is in danger, Sunghoon. I don’t want to see you die.”

“Woo says I’m going to die?” he asks. Why should I trust you? Who the fuck are you and how do you know how to fight like that?”

“You need to trust me because there is no one who can protect you from what you witnessed and I’m somebody who can protect you if this happens again.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“That’s the only answer I can give right now.”

Sunghoon sighs. “You’re asking a lot of me, Y/N.”

“Fine.”

Sunghoon watches you pull a backpack from your closet and haphazardly throw in shirts, undergarments, and other items into it. It’s when you pull the vent cover from the wall that Sunghoon starts to panic. You pull out a large ziplock bag with stacks of cash and other items he assumes are credit cards and passports. When you pull a gun from your nightstand and push into your backpack, you look at him.

“You can stay. But know that I will not come back should anything happen to you or the people you care about.” He doesn’t know if this is a threat or not. But his heart is beating erratically and the thought of being without your help doesn’t make him feel better.

He doesn’t want to go. He wants to retreat back to his apartment and pretend this never happened. Sunghoon wishes he would’ve ignored that gut feeling in his stomach to check if you were okay and live his life blissfully unaware of what life you must live to attract people who are out to kill you. But thinking like this makes Sunghoon feel guilty because despite your unusual talent for warding off men twice your size and height, he would be damned if something serious happened to you.

Even so, leaving his life behind feels unfair. The idea of leaving his friend and family behind makes his stomach churn. Will he ever be able to see his friends again? What about his mother, father, and sister? What of them? Will they have to wonder where their son is and deal with the aftermath of not knowing that Sunghoon’s gone missing, let alone why? Sunghoon can’t think of the last time he talked to his family on the phone. His poor sister, too, will have to continue growing up without a brother to protect her.

But none of that matters if what you say is true. Even if Sunghoon chose not to follow you and remain as clueless about your life as he does now, the chance that he’ll be safe doesn’t seem like a risk worth taking. The strange man still knows where he lives and what he looks like. If what you claim is true, then this man will eventually find Sunghoon and kill him. Whatever “bad” means to you must really be bad if someone was aiming to murder you.

“Okay,” he says with a trembling voice. “I’ll go with you.”

“You’re making the right decision,” you explain with your arms gesturing to the space around you. “The life you have…whatever it means to you, it will never be the same. There is a very bad man who works for someone equally worse. They’ll always find you.”

“I understand, I think.”

“It’s a lot to ask of you. I know,” you nod. “That man knows what you look like now and will be able to find you no matter where you go.”

“So that’s it? I just leave?”

“Well, you’ll need to do some packing first. Do you have a backpack?”

“I have one I travel with, yes,” Sunghoon says.

“Good. Let me gather some things and then we’ll head to your place so you can pack.”

As you continue gathering last minute belongings, Sunghoon takes the time to comprehend just how strange this situation is. Why is your apartment so empty? It looks as if no one is supposed to live here, like this space is just temporary. It barely looks like a functioning living space. How do you entertain yourself? If you’re able to afford living in this apartment, how come you don’t have any furniture to fill the space? And what about decorations? Why don’t you have any photos of yourself, your friends, or your family hung up on the walls?

The harder he thinks, the more his headache returns. You live in isolation to the point where he starts to question everything he knows about you. All of your belongings could fit into the backpack you’re carrying and he wonders if this familiar experience is something you’re running away from.

Sunghoon can only stare in utter shock as you pull out a plastic bag filled with things he's only seen in movies. More passports, more cash, more credit cards, and what he assumes to be more fake driver’s licenses. Your supply seems endless. Underneath your sink contains knives stashed away in protective bags that you shove into the backpack with one tucked behind you. The way you touch these weapons without flinching scares him.

He knows he shouldn’t be naive to find normalcy in your actions, even if you look eerily calm and composed.

“So this is it?” Sunghoon asks when you walk past him, following you to the living room.

“Mhm,” you mumble, looking at your broken window. He watches as you sigh before you turn all of the lights off and lock the door behind you.

Walking into the well-lit hallway feels weird. It’s too normal.

“What should I bring and how much of everything?” he asks after he’s let the both of you inside of his apartment.

“You’ll want to change out of your clothes and get into something more comfortable,” you say, gesturing at his work attire. “Wear comfortable running shoes. Bring as many shirts, pants, and underwear as your backpack can fit. Make sure to bring a toothbrush and toothpaste, too. Bring only one jacket. You won’t need more than one. You have fifteen minutes. I’ll wait in the living room.”

Sunghoon watches your figure disappear down the hall and gets to work immediately, changing out of his suit and into comfortable pants and a t-shirt. He doesn’t bother putting away his suit jacket and slacks. Sunghoon shoves what he assumes to be necessities into his backpack and rummages in his bathroom for things he’ll need until the two of you need to stop to buy the essentials. He feels like he’s got tunnel vision, focusing on the task at hand to prevent himself from losing his mind over the situation he’s found himself in.

But a photo on his nightstand stops him in his tracks.

It’s a picture of his family and the first time Jay and Jake made the trip to his hometown after graduating college. They’d embarked on a road trip and spent some time in his parents’ house before the week-long adventure of exploring the nearby area before the reality of work and responsibilities sunk in. His father had Sunghoon set up a self timer photo to commemorate the bond between his friends and adulthood before his career would eventually begin in the fall. Sunghoon and his friends sat on the picnic table with their bodies facing the camera as his parents stood around him. His sister held up a peace sign next to Sunghoon. The memory feels distant.

Sunghoon puts the photo down and makes his way back to the living room eventually, forcing himself not to pick up anything that isn’t a necessity. He puts his wallet on the coffee table and you turn around to see his backpack in his hand while he witnesses you looking at the decor on his wall.

“You have a nice apartment.”

“Thanks.”

You pick up his wallet. “Do you have your birth certificate on you? Maybe a passport or any other identification?”

“Just my passport.” Sunghoon runs back into his room to grab it before handing it to you, then pointing at his computer on the couch. “And my laptop.”

“We’ll need to bring both of those.”

“What for?”

You give him a look that gives him a bad feeling. “We’ll need to destroy them as soon as we can. I can’t have them finding you that easily.”

Sunghoon sighs and grabs his computer. “If it’s for the best.”

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t necessary. I’m sorry, I really am.”

Sunghoon thinks he hears your voice waver. Choosing to forego any more pleasantries, you allow him to lock his door before beckoning him to give you his keys.

“I assume we need to get rid of these?”

“You’re catching on pretty quick,” you say. “We’ll bury these somewhere far from here so no one can find them.”

“I think the adrenaline is getting to me.”

You look around his room. “Where’s the thumb drive that your boss gave you?”

Sunghoon looks at you quizzically. “What?”

“The thumb drive with financial records on it. Where is it?”

“In my bedroom. Why are you asking about it?”

“Bring it with you.” You push Sunghoon back to his room with a little more force than he expected. He stumbles over himself and pulls it out his desk drawer.

“Why is this so important? Why were you asking about it when you were here?”

“There’s no time to explain right now, but we need to bring it with us and keep it safe. It’s best if I hold onto it.” He’s skeptical. You sigh when you see his expression change into something unpleasant. “Sunghoon, I’m being completely honest with you when I say both of our lives depend on what’s on that thumb drive. If this disappears or if it’s destroyed, we’re both dead.”

He hesitates but hands you the thumb drive away. Sunghoon looks around his apartment once more, memorizing the sight of the coffee mug on the counter he neglected to wash because he was rushing and the remote that he’d thrown haphazardly on the couch the night before. All of this makes him want to cry. The thought of never returning makes him feel like throwing up.

You lead him out of the building and lock his door with the keys before pocketing them in your pants. He follows you down the stairs to avoid the elevator and assumes you’re leading him down the back route where you don’t have to run into the doorman, who will likely strike a conversation with the both of you and find it odd that you’re rushing out of the building at this hour.

“You’re scaring me with how much you know about what we need to do next,” Sunghoon comments.

“It comes with the job description,” you explain vaguely. “I was trained to think quickly in these types of situations and what to do if someone tries to kill you in your own home.”

“Trained?”

Sunghoon chokes as he looks at you but you’re too busy looking elsewhere to see the shock on his face. It feels like he’s sucking in his breath before you finally turn to look at him.

“Let’s find a secure place before we talk.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The two of you avoid taking the metro. When Sunghoon asks why, you tell him it’s best to keep yourselves from any places that are under heavy surveillance to avoid being tracked. It’s best to keep yourself out of the public eye as much as possible.

The stillness of the night doesn’t match his erratic heartbeat as he walks through familiar streets that no longer feel like home to him. Every light post feels like there might be someone hiding behind it and every quiet neighborhood makes him feel out of place. Sunghoon wills himself to be calm like you are, but he can’t stop himself from replaying the events of earlier that night in his head.

Who are you? Why do you know so much about being on the run? What kind of life do you live that forces you to be somebody who looks over their shoulder?

Sunghoon wonders if this is what he’ll have to deal with for the rest of his life. He isn’t sure whether he can trust you the way you say he can, but he figures it would be better to take his chances with you and die trying instead of waiting for someone to come and kill him. Even if he has to leave everything he loves behind.

The two of you don’t walk for very long. Dodging metro lines and public transportation feels like the journey takes forever, but you tell him you’ve only walked for roughly an hour and a half in dead silence. Sunghoon doesn’t dare ask a single question for the fear that you might abandon him.

Soon after you lead him out of your shared neighborhood, Sunghoon finds himself in a small hostel just on the edge of Seoul with two twin beds across from one another and a small bathroom. He watches as you pay in cash and accept the key to the room from the desk employee without so much as a word. The space isn’t the luxury apartment he’d found himself living in for the past three years, but it’s better than sleeping with one eye open in his own bed where anything could happen. The twin mattress is decent enough but he feels like a giant when he lays down after setting aside his belongings.

You don’t unpack your bag or relax like he thinks you will. Instead, you double check to ensure the door is locked and immediately check the bathroom and living area from top to top, corner to corner. Sunghoon watches you pull a nightstand from the corner. He nearly yelps when you dare step on the small, unsteady piece of furniture.

“What are you doing?” Sunghoon asks, sitting up on the bed.

“Checking for any potential listening devices,” you say as you pay him no mind, hand touching the small crevice near the window sill. “I highly doubt it, but you can never be too careful.”

“You mean bugs? Like those things from the movies?”

You hum. “Yeah, those are the ones. I need to assess the room before we can talk freely.”

“Oh. I didn’t think people used those in real life.”

“People do, unfortunately. You have to look at every inch of the room from floor to ceiling. Check the lights, the phone, the back of any objects like picture frames or wall decor, even underneath the toilet seat. Anything you can reach by hand, so can they.”

Even though Sunghoon doesn’t know the first thing about you, it feels odd to see you like this. You always look somewhere in between disheveled and put together, but the version he's staring at looks nothing like what he’s used to.

Sunghoon is a man of few words hidden behind a million thoughts. He reserves himself for people he feels comfortable around to play it safe, unleashing his loud and extroverted tendencies when he becomes well-acquainted with certain people. Despite uttering a few sentences to you throughout the time you’ve moved next door, Sunghoon has daydreamed about you plenty.

When Sunghoon closes his eyes, he swears he can see himself asking you on a date. He can picture you saying yes and wearing an outfit that will make his jaw drop until you become bashful under his stare. He imagines getting to know you well enough that when he drops you off at your apartment door, where the two of you become too reluctant to say goodbye until the evening ends with a kiss. His favorite scenario, though, is picturing you sleeping on his chest. His pillows can only help so much.

Sunghoon can’t pinpoint just why he was so fascinated by you. With a single glance, you turned his world upside down and he thinks he’ll never feel anything like that ever again.

Deep down, Sunghoon assumes part of his thoughts about you is because you’re a disruption in his mundane, boring life that feels like an endless loop. There was nothing for him to look forward to once his life and career became monotonous. But somehow, your honey-like voice and warm smile intrigued him. You’re an enigma he can’t quite seem to understand. It entices him to unravel who you are and what you could mean to him.

But none of that matters now. Watching you search the perimeter of the room for listening devices is enough to pull Sunghoon’s head out of the clouds.

“Oh God,” Sunghoon exclaims in a panic, as if the thought of his reality crashes down on him all at once. “My job. What the fuck am I gonna do about my job? My boss will report me missing if I don’t show up two days in a row. Fuck, what do I do?”

“There’s nothing you can do now,” you tell him. “Going back will only increase the risk of getting hurt. Don’t you understand that?”

“I can’t just leave my fucking job. I’m responsible for training entry level interns. I have so many unfinished reports due at the end of the week. Fuck! What if they call the police because I haven't shown up?

You sit next to him. “I understand this is a stressful situation, but your life can never go back to the way it was and we have to roll with the punches as they come. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be too far from Seoul for anyone to find us.” Sunghoon swears he hears a bit of melancholy in your tone. “I’m very sorry:

Somehow, he believes you. “It’s okay. It’s not technically your fault.”

You don’t meet his eyes.

“This room is clean, by the way. No audio or video devices.”

“That’s probably the only good news from today.”

“We should probably talk about the next steps,” you tell him as you rise from his bed. “We’ll need to get some rest tonight. The hardest part about survival is the first few days and mapping out where we need to go next.”

“So where do we go?”

Your shoulders sag. “There might be somebody who can help us. It’s a long shot…but I think if we’re able to reach Jinju in the next few days, then we might be on the right track.”

“Jinju? Why Jinjiu?”

“I have a friend there who might be willing to help us.”

“So why don’t we call them and see if we can crash in the meantime?”

You shake your head. “It’s not as simple as you make it seem.”

“I’m struggling to keep up.” With pursed lips, you sit on your own bed and face Sunghoon. He watches you tuck your legs underneath yourself until you’re sitting criss-crossed and look down at your lap where you play with your fingers.

“There are people out there who do bad things for a living,” you say. “Really bad things. Worse than whatever imagination your mind can conjure up.”

Sunghoon’s heart palpitates. “Like what?” You look up at him.

“Like carrying out a hit.”

His stomach plummets.

“Y-You mean to tell me someone was trying to kill you? What for? What sensible reason does anyone have to kill an innocent person?”

You go back to playing with your fingers. He watches you look at him before biting your cheek and looking at the floor. “There are things in this world many people will never know. Few find out and live to tell the tale. I’m telling you this because I need you to understand me when I tell you things are getting serious, not because I’m trying to hide things from you.”

“Can you at least explain to me what the fuck is going on? Everything you say is cryptic and I know you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

“There’s a time and place for everything. I promise I’ll tell you everything. You deserve that at the least.”

“You owe me more than that.”

“I know, Sunghoon. Believe me, I do. But right now your adrenaline is wearing off and neither of us are thinking straight.”

“This is crazy,” he says. “I go to work and come home just to do it over again the next day. I barely have a social life and don’t go out on the weekends as much as my friends want me to. I’m just a normal guy living a normal life. Then, you showed up.”

Ultimately, Sunghoon knows you’re right. The bright lights of the hostel are suddenly too bright in his vision and they aren’t helping his headache. The mattress he’s sitting on top of suddenly feels too uncomfortable and sharp with the metal springs and rods beneath him. His body is calming down as his breathing returns to a normal rate and his eyes begin to feel heavy.

He looks at you and finds that you can’t meet his eye. Sunghoon immediately regrets his words and imagines what it must be like for you to carry the weight of knowing someone tried to kill you, coupled with the fact that you have to babysit somebody who has no idea how to fend for his life. Awkwardly, Sunghoon rises from his mattress and mutters about how he’s going to get ready for bed.

He splashes cold water onto his face to calm his face from the rushing heat creeping up his neck. Sunghoon doesn’t know what to think or how to feel. His bones are starting to feel heavy and his mind is telling him to go back home and pretend everything’s fine. He wants to be wrapped up in a blanket his sister got him for Christmas watching reruns of American television he can barely understand.

But his gut is telling him to stay with you. He can’t delude himself into thinking his life can go back to the way it was after everything that unfolded. He very well could remain looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life without someone who’s knowledgeable about this side of life. He can’t imagine leaving you without somebody to protect you, even if you seem like you can handle yourself. The least he could do is listen to your orders and follow your instructions until the both of you can live your lives without the fear of imminent danger. These thoughts haunt him as he washes his face and brushes his teeth.

When he emerges from the bathroom, he notices that you’ve changed into sleeping attire and tries to avoid looking at your bare legs when it registers that you’re wearing sleep shorts and a sweater. He feels somewhat remorseful of what could have been if the two of you get to know each other under different circumstances. You brush past him into the bathroom and he can hear the sound of the faucet running when you close the door.

Everything seems too calm compared to the few hours he spent with you. His ears are no longer ringing and his heartbeat isn’t beating as erratically as before. This is the first time that Sunghoon’s had a few minutes by himself where nothing distracts him from his thoughts. He’s too exhausted to push them away.

Soon, the two of you are tucked in your respective beds with the moonlight from the window illuminating the shared space. It’s bright enough for Sunghoon to see your figure laying still and facing the wall. You look so meek like this and he wonders how anyone could ever hurt you. He wants to say something, to apologize or thank you for caring about him.

“I can’t say I’m too sad about leaving my job,” he blurts out. Sunghoon’s about to chastise himself for saying something opposite of what he intended until he hears your bed creaking and looks over to see that you’ve turned to face him.

“Why’s that?”

Sunghoon crashes.

“I’m not happy. I feel like I’m working for nothing and I hate the life I have. People always need me for things and I never get any recognition for the work I do to save everybody’s asses.”

“You sound like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

Sunghoon stares at the ceiling. “I haven’t been happy with my life in a long time. My friends tell me I keep fooling myself into thinking I have it all because my job pays well and I live by myself. Total autonomy.”

“But your job keeps you from that freedom.”

“Yes,” Sunghoon says, exasperated. “It feels like I’m living on someone else’s dime. Everything I do at my job is to make people happy because they tell me what to do. It doesn’t matter if I have my own principles. If it doesn’t align with the people who hire me to do my job, my voice doesn’t matter.” You don’t say anything for a moment but Sunghoon’s too caught up in his own thoughts to think about it.

“I can’t believe I just admitted that out loud.”

“Sometimes it takes a stranger to say what you really feel.”

Sunghoon turns to look at you. “You were always the most unpredictable part of my day.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You moved into the apartment next to mine and running into you a few times a week kept me on my toes. I don’t know. I guess I saw you as someone I would have potentially befriended. I could at least pretend I was coming home to talk to someone who cared.”

“That’s…very sweet. You’re a nice person, Sunghoon.”

He sighs. “I don’t feel that way. I don’t know when I’m gonna see my family and friends again and explain all of this, but I'm starting to get the feeling that they’ll never hear from me and they’ll never know what happened tonight.”

“You know,” you begin, “a lot of my life was spent moving from place to place and never having anything or anyone to call home. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you to leave everything behind. For that, I truly am sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault,” Sunghoon says dryly. “Whoever tried to kill you should get a bullet to his head.” He hears you laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah, well that likely wouldn’t solve our problems.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think that man acted on his own accord. It’s too professional to assume he’s working alone.”

“You’re saying he’s working with someone else?”

“Or, he’s working for someone.”

Sunghoon gulps. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The price of freedom is high. Remember that.”

“You know, none of this explains how you know what you’re doing. If you know, for that matter.”

He doesn’t hear you move for a short while and closes his eyes shut. Once again, he’s found himself slipping up and saying things that don't translate well. Too afraid to speak, Sunghoon considers sleeping and dealing with his actions in the morning.

“I know what I’m doing because I’ve done it before,” you say through the darkness. “When your whole life revolves around survival, you adapt to the best of your ability and do anything to stay alive. I’ve learned a few things from my time on the run so please know that I know what I’m doing.”

“Who are you?”

The room is silent.

“Someone you can trust.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Sunghoon’s surprised when you wake him up as the sun rises to vacate the premises. He gets dressed as quickly as he can and he knows you can hear him yawning as he prepares himself for the day ahead of him. After freshening up and a quick breakfast consisting of leftovers from yesterday’s convenience store run, the two of you return the hostel key and leave as quickly as you came.

Sunghoon watches as you destroy his phone and laptop, which ultimately makes his soul wince at his personal items deemed unworthy and unsafe. It makes him feel like this new lifestyle is set in stone and the physical burial of his worldly possessions feels like he’s burying his normalcy and trading it in for life on the run. You bury it in a plot of land somewhere and let him mourn before he’s ready to pack it up and leave.

The two of you travel on foot again, stopping by another convenience store to grab more water and food for later. The sun isn’t as warm as it was the day prior and Sunghoon’s grateful that he doesn't have to walk under the sweltering heat with all he’s carrying on his shoulders. He doesn’t know where the two of you are headed and prevents himself from asking more unnecessary questions because he’s met with a wall whenever he speaks about the next steps. In the hours he spends with you, he realizes that you barely know what’s to come.

Eventually, the two of you have found refuge at another hostel, miles away from the first one. Sunghoon doesn’t understand the method to your madness. He’s tried to make small conversation and ask you about your expertise, but you shut him down every time. You keep saying that “now” isn’t the right time to explain things to him because you’re too wrapped up in making sure you both manage to live until the next day. He’s starting to think you're not the person he once imagined you to be.

Sunghoon tries his hand at scaling the hostel for any listening devices at your suggestion. He follows you and watches as you inspect the bathroom–behind the toilet bowl, inside of it, in the shower drain, and behind the medicine cabinet–before he takes a stab at the living area. He feels awkward when you watch him but follows your pointers when you notice that he neglected a few spots.

One thing he realizes about being on the run is that sometimes, it’s very slow and extremely boring. With no phone or laptop to keep himself company, Sunghoon wishes he remembered to pack a book or two before leaving his apartment for good.

Realistically, you tell him it’s better to get as far away from the origin point as possible in the shortest amount of time. To pass the time, Sunghoon asks you questions he thinks are silly, ones that he’s seen movie characters from spy thrillers ask their partners.

Can we call anyone for help? No.

How about taking the bus instead of walking? No.

Is there anyone who can help us get into another country safely and quickly? Probably not.

It seems like you’ve been leaving Sunghoon with more questions than answers. You leave him in the dark, pondering on his own as you try to come up with a plan and he does his best to be patient with you because he can’t imagine having to care for someone who has no idea how to keep himself alive. Sunghoon daydreams about who you must’ve been in order for someone to attempt to kill you when the two of you are traveling. It keeps him occupied and what prevents him from complaining about walking too much.

Sunghoon pictures you as someone who knows a little too much. Perhaps you stumbled upon a classified piece of information or made a shady deal with bad people in your past life and moved to Seoul to escape. Maybe that’s why you know so much about being on the run.

He also thinks you might be some sort of spy dabbling in espionage, and the man who assaulted you is someone who works for your arch nemesis. This idea seems silly because it reminds him of a k-drama his sister used to obsess over but he can’t lie when he thinks about how this theory might be the only one that makes sense.

Even so, Sunghoon comes to the realization that you are truly, utterly alone.

He wonders if you have any friends or family that you had to leave behind. You know so much about him because he’s been open about his feelings after the startling realization that his life is something he will never return to. But you’ve kept quiet about who you are up until the point where you moved into the apartment next to his. So caught up in his own miseries, Sunghoon neglected to consider that you would have to leave people behind as well. Do you have loved ones in Seoul? Do you get drinks with your colleagues after work? Is there anyone who would notice you missing?

He falls asleep with these questions ruminating in his own head.

The next time Sunghoon opens his eyes, he’s not surprised to find you already packing. Like clockwork, the two of you set out on foot again and walk for miles under the sun until you’re farther away from Seoul. There’s a small noodle shop by the newest hostel and he’s more than shocked when you ask if he’s up for eating dinner there.

The two of you wear masks and a cap to conceal your identities to the best of your abilities. Sunghoon lets you pay for the noodles upon realizing his own wallet is buried in a plot of land somewhere. The money you have was a stash for a rainy day and he’s wondering when it’ll run out.

“It’s crazy that you think about this stuff,” he says as the waitress hands off his noodles. “I still don’t understand why you insisted on picking this table.” You nudge your head to the window.

“Being visible from the outside means bad business. Anyone can see in the window and spot you if the lighting is good enough. I chose this table because it’s concealed the most and closest to the door in case we need to make a run for it.”

“So what, do we just leave without paying if someone comes in and tries to kill us?”

You shrug. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“That’s so unethical,” Sunghoon huffs in disbelief.

You laugh into your spoon. “Well that’s the life we have to live now. You learn to put aside your conscience and morals when trying to survive. Neglecting to pay for a meal is a small act of ungratefulness compared to saving your own life.”

“I don’t even want to ask how many times you’ve had to do that.”

He watches you lament. “I’ve been living like this for a long time, Sunghoon. That's all I know. I can’t afford to think about the what ifs because the future happens quicker than you expect it to. Knowing I get to sleep at the end of the day is the goal, but then I have to worry about what’ll happen when I open my eyes.

“Becoming your neighbor was my first taste of normalcy, in a sense. I still slept with a gun under my pillow and kept my door bolted shut with a cane underneath the handle. Every room in my apartment had a weapon in it should I ever need it.”

Sunghoon winces. “I’m sorry it came to that.”

“Me too,” you say, sipping from your spoon. “But that’s my life.”

“If you hate it so much, why did you choose it?”

You look at him. “I didn’t.”

“I assume this is a story for another time.”

“You’re assuming correctly.”

Sunghoon watches you slurp on your noodles. The soup is splashing inside the bowl and the steam is burning your tongue but you push through it, forcing yourself to chew and suck cool air into your mouth. You seem normal like this and Sunghoon’s heart softens when he thinks about what life would be like if the two of you weren’t on the run.

“Tell me about yourself.”

Sunghoon’s taken aback by your sudden question. “Myself?”

You nod. “Who are you, Sunghoon?”

It’s a loaded question and one he wasn’t expecting to hear from you. You’ve seldom made conversation in the couple of days since you two have been together, only asking him about the necessary things as they come up. Sunghoon’s the one who initiates small talk and shares what he’s thinking with you when the conversation falls flat. He’s learned to be okay with your silence.

Hearing you ask him such a question sends him into deep thought. For a moment, Sunghoon imagines that the two of you are on a first date. He pretends you both agree to forego the fanciness of a five-star restaurant in favor of dressing comfortably and having no expectations other than good food and good company.

You look so innocent in this light, so far removed from a world of danger that Sunghoon nearly deludes himself into thinking this fantasy of his is real. Your cheeks are full of noodles and your body is hunched over the bowl like any normal person would be. He pulls himself back before he could mourn his past.

“I don’t really know where to begin. I have two parents, a mother and father, and a younger sister. I grew up in Suwon until I moved to Seoul for university. I hate my job and I really want to open a coffee shop one day.”

“Why a coffee shop?”

“It’s the exact opposite of my life right now,” Sunghoon explains. “I won’t hear telephones ringing or be pulled into budgetary meetings for clients every second of the day. I’ll work for myself. I won’t have to stay later than I want to and I can talk to real people who I’ll actually give a shit about.”

“That sounds like a really nice dream.”

“I’d probably call it ‘Soul Coffee’ because maybe I’ll have a soul by then,” he says with a short laugh. “I think I’d be happy waking up to work in a place like that instead of in finance. It feels like I’m living the same day over and over again. There’s no variety in my life because everyone expects you to stay later than the typical workday. It’s a shark-eat-shark world there. I’m sick of it. I’m tired of pretending to care about our morally-grey clients. Nothing about it feels…me.”

“Listening to commands is tiring, don’t you think?”

He sighs, exasperated. “You’ve read my mind. It’s like I’m a cog in a machine. I serve to benefit high society and make the rich, richer. There’s no morality in what I do. I have to look at the numbers I see pile across my desk everyday and pretend they mean nothing to me. If I start to think about how much money is being used to do ungodly things, I start to lose my mind.

“None of my clients and colleagues seem to care about anyone but themselves. They compete with each other to see who can make it out on top the fastest without caring about who they hurt. It’s like they’ve lost their humanity.”

“Survival of the fittest is everybody’s weakness. When the consequence of falling behind is termination, that alone can make people do things against their own will.”

“They all seem like they’re running on autopilot, like they’re so used to it that they’re numb.” Sunghoon shakes his head. “I always thought I’d do something more creative with my life like photography, or something. I wasn’t too half bad at painting. I considered majoring in fine art but coming home for winter break was enough for me to reconsider that.”

“Why’s that?”

“My father's well connected in finance. He’s respectable and has set a lot of expectations for me. He wouldn’t hear it when I told him I wanted to be a photography major. He said it was nothing compared to having a stable job that you can depend on. It shattered my wellbeing and I knew there was no chance I could ever convince him otherwise.

“Living under your parents’ expectations is difficult. I have a younger sister who’s starting college soon and she wants to become a professional dancer. I can only imagine the conversations she must be having with our parents now. But I guess it’s all for the best, right? I have a good job that pays decently and a roof over my head. I can’t complain, really.”

“You can still mourn the life you could’ve had,” you tell him. “Just because you chose one path, that doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about a future that never was.”

His eyes flicker to you when he hears an uptick in your voice. You look back with a melancholy gaze that's hard for Sunghoon to figure out. He watches as you divert your eyes from him when silence has passed and he thinks that’s peculiar.

“I guess so.”

The two of you finish your meal without a word spoken. He’s done eating just a minute quicker than you do, and patiently waits until you’ve discarded your utensils into the bowl in front of you. Sunghoon wonders if what he said must have made you uncomfortable, but the voice in his head is telling him you know more about what he’s feeling than you let on.

With your expertise about being on the run and evading assailants, Sunghoon truly begins to wonder what your life must have been like prior to moving next to him.

You break the silence.

“You’re a very resilient person, Sunghoon. I think your friends and family are very lucky to have you.”

Sunghoon is speechless.

“T-Thank you. I hope I can get to know you well enough to say nice things about you too.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The two of you decide to make a trip to the only convenience store in town before heading back despite it being farther away from the current hostel. It’s dark outside and even Sunghoon is starting to feel spooked when walking through the dead of night, distant lamp posts illuminating the night sky. He can’t tell what you’re thinking either. Most times, you wear the same expression and remain stoic until it’s time to go to sleep. It’s then Sunghoon can truly see just how tired you are. He wishes he could spearhead the planning to give you some time to rest.

He learns that you’re resilient too. You push your body to its physical maximum. You’re able to think ahead and prepare everything you need before your head hits the pillow because the next day is never promised. Sunghoon, too, starts to push himself towards his breaking point and only thinks of surviving.

Sunghoon catches you yawning as you shuffle items into the basket. He offers to hold it for you and picks out items he’s seen you purchase before. The cashier bids you farewell once the tab has been paid. The two of you make the trek back to the hostel under dimly lit lights in the middle of nowhere when you push Sunghoon forward until his face meets the ground below him.

Already, the sound of a bullet piercing the air interrupts the tranquil atmosphere of the environment. He looks up to see a man inside of a car aiming his gun in his direction and covers your body with his when he realizes the armed stranger is about to take another shot. Sunghoon’s heart rate quickens when the bullet casings fall to the ground beside him. You clutch onto him until you’re able to find leverage and push him off of you to a spot you deem safe enough.

There’s a single driver; no designated person as a gunman sitting shotgun and you’re sure this is an inexperienced soldier who’s out for blood. If not for the reckless aim, then for the insults he shouts at you when the bullets hit everything but you and Sunghoon.

Sunghoon reckons your body is a mixture of adrenaline and strategy from your years of experience. It’s almost as though you move on autopilot and maneuver your way to the safest vantage point. He, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. He’s frozen in his spot and his body feels heavier than it is when you try to pull him to safety. Because of this, the last bullet from the gunman’s device ricochets off of a hard surface behind you and a small fragment of it becomes lodged in your arm.

You yell in pain and clutch yourself when the metal touches your skin. When the gunman realizes his ammo is depleted, he swerves the car until his headlights blind you. Without a moment’s notice, you grab onto Sunghoon’s sleeve and pull him along with you, running until you see a crevice that’s small enough to fit the two of you.

You run and run, ducking behind buildings and keeping Sunghoon close to you as you take cover behind dumpsters and other large objects that could shield you from the gunman’s vehicle. Your arm is in immense pain and you can feel your blood start to trickle out of your wound and down your elbow.

When the gunman ceases his attempts to run after the two of you, you exhale.

You check to see if the coast is clear and slide down the hard wall behind you until you’re perched upright when you deem it safe enough. The jacket you’re wearing does nothing to shield your arm from the bullet fragment and your skin looks like a bloody massacre when you take it off.

Sunghoon can only stare at the wound. He’s at a loss for words when he sees your face contort in pain as your head hits the brick wall behind you. The tears pricking at your eyes damage his psyche and he feels utterly helpless.

He watches you rummage through your backpack and tear off a portion of an unused shirt and as you wrap it around your arm. The blood’s soaking through the grey fabric and it causes him to panic. You aren’t screaming the way Sunghoon wants to. It scares him half to death.

“Direct pressure on the wound cuts off the blood supply,” you tell him with a huff. He wants to help, but the sight of your blood dripping down your arm and onto the pavement below makes his feet stay planted where they are. Sungoon watches as you pull it tight with your teeth and secure it to the best of your ability.

“Blood,” Sunghoon stutters. “There’s so much blood. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” you immediately refute. “No hospitals. Going to a medical center means I’m documented, Sunghoon. They have to take my name and identification. Maybe yours too. We can’t risk going somewhere with security feeds to avoid being caught.”

“So what do you propose we do, then? You’re fucking bleeding because you got shot!”

“It’s just a graze wound,” you say through your teeth. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll be fine.”

“Where do we go from here?” Sunghoon asks.

“Back to your apartment.”

“But you said it’s dangerous if we go back.”

“It’s less dangerous than going back to our hostel or finding a new one. People who see my arm are going to call the cops and going to a medical center is out of the question. I just need a safe place to fix myself.”

Sunghoon knows better than to suggest hailing a taxi or using the metro to get back to his apartment. He pushes all morals aside when you instruct him how to hotwire a car from the street when he sees your bloody arm. When he successfully gets the engine to run, you climb into the passenger seat and he’s off retracing his steps to take him back to his apartment as best as he can.

You try to stay awake. It hurts Sunghoon to hear you gasping in pain with your high-pitched cries when he hits a road bump. From the corner of his eye, he can see you biting your lip to keep your tears at bay as best as you cany. Your head rests against the car door as you watch the lights pass by you and he wonders what you’re thinking right now. For all of your reassurance that this is a normal part of your life, Sunghoon wishes it wasn’t.

Eventually, Sunghoon finds his way back towards Seoul. As he approaches his former neighborhood, he can’t help but feel displaced. It’s odd to see familiar streets and department stores he frequents after making peace with the fact that he’ll likely never return. The lights that keep each billboard sign on feels foreign after spending days looking at wastelands. Sunghoon never imagined that he’d get the chance to see his old haunts. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

It’s the dead of night and the lights surrounding the apartment are dimmer than usual. He’s grateful, in a way, because it means you two can get into the building from the back without being detected. Sunghoon leads you up the stairs, leading you by the sleeve of his jacket that he’s letting you wear. It’s soaked with your blood and you’ve had to use the fabric to prevent any more bleeding. He avoids looking at it, hating that you’re in so much pain and that you don’t even show it.

“Hang on,” Sunghoon says when the two of you approach the door. Your face is growing weaker but he can hear voices coming from inside the room. “I hear someone inside.”

They’re just loud enough for Sunghoon to recognize them.

“Shit,” he mutters. “My friends are inside.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, stumbling over your feet to press your forehead against his back. “I need to get in there and fix my arm before I pass out.”

“Okay,” he says with a final nod before pushing the door open.

Sunghoon’s guilt and shame wash over him when he sees Jay and Jake sitting inside. They look at him with anger and disappointment flashing across their faces as they see him standing in the threshold of his doorway. They don’t comment on the spattered red blood that’s halfway dry on his sleeve. Seeing his friends look at him with such betrayal makes Sunghoon feel like the worst person in the entire world.

“What the actual fuck,” Jake speaks, cutting the silence. “Where the fuck have you been, Sunghoon?”

“We’ve been worried sick,” Jay adds. “You’ve been gone for a week. Where the fuck were you and what happened?”

“How did you guys get in here?” Sunghoon asks quizzically.

“You gave me your spare key.” Jay fishes it out of his pocket and throws it on the counter beside him. “For emergencies, remember? We come in here to see your apartment is a mess. I’d count this as an emergency.”

“Guys, I can explain–”

“You fucking better!” Jake exclaims, raising his voice a notch. “We were worried sick about you! Didn’t you check your texts? Why didn’t you call us? Are you in trouble?”

“Guys—”

“Cut the shit, Sunghoon. Friends don’t do that to other people, especially when we came here and saw your bedroom. It looks like a storm blew in here.” Jay shakes his head. “What the hell happened to you?”

Sunghoon tries to apologize amidst the chaos. “You guys, really, I’m sorry–”

“You better be fucking sorry!” Jake shouts back at Sunghoon, who has dared to inch closer to the angry man in front of him. “Sunghoon, I swear to God. We’ve been brothers since college and I’ve been by your side through everything. The least you could have fucking done was let us know that you’re okay and–”

“All of you better shut up unless you want to deal with me passed out on the floor,” you warn, slamming a gun on the table. It makes a horrendously loud noise that startles all three of them but it’s enough to garner their attention.

Jake’s eyes are first to see your arm. You’ve taken off Sunghoon’s jacket and discarded it on the chair beside you, revealing the blood-soaked spectacle underneath. He sputters over his words, while Jay remains frozen in his spot.

“Sunghoon,” you speak, voice heavy with your eyes shut together. “Do you have any alcohol?”

“I-I have vodka” Sunghoon stutters. He stumbles backwards and grabs all of the bottles he can find.

“Sunghoon,” you say again through broken words and heavy breaths, “can you please get my backpack and the medical kit sashed underneath your touch?”

“What the fuck?!” Jay exclaims. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Sunghoon answers, putting the backpack on the table in front of you. He pulls out the kit and opens it for you. “Too much attention. We can’t afford that right now.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Jay retorts. “She’s clearly bleeding out! Y/N needs to see a doctor to get her arm patched up. She’s bleeding all over the fucking table!”

Jay averts his gaze from Sunghoon when he hears you fish out a needle and thread. The gauze from your kit sits atop the counter and he winces when you peel back the fabric to reveal the wound.

“Holy shit,” Jake mutters. “How are you still alive?”

“It’s not fatal,” you explain. “It’s a flesh wound at best. Hurts like hell, but at least the bullet fragment didn’t lodge itself inside of me.”

“Bullet?”

“Can you make yourself useful and get me a cup?”

Jake moves to the kitchen, too afraid of what you’ll do if he doesn’t obey your command. The sight of your bloody arm is enough to make him equal parts sick and panicked. The three boys in front of you are silent as they watch you unpack what you need. The room smells of sweat and iron, but neither of them dare to take their eyes off of your arm.

“Do you have any spare towels I can use?” you ask Sunghoon. He wordlessly grabs them for you.

“This is crazy,” Jake mutters.

“It’s about to get crazier,” you mumble, patting the blood on the skin that isn’t damaged.

“Don’t tell me–”

“Yeah,” you say, unscrewing the top to the vodka bottle and pouring yourself enough liquid to temporarily calm your nerves. The boys watch as you tilt your head back to consume the vodka. “Somebody please put my hair up.”

“How’s this gonna work?” Jake asks as Sunghoon ties your hair for you.

“Whenever the alcohol starts to kick in, I’m going to use the vodka to disinfect this arm and clear it to the best of my ability,” you explain. “Then, I’m going to stitch myself up.”

“What the fuck.”

“I’ve been in worse situations. I’ll be fine.”

“You…You’ve done this before?” Jake asks.

“Too many times to count. Now, I ask that you keep quiet and do as I say unless you want me to pass out. Do you understand?”

Jay and Jake mumble agreements under their breaths. Sunghoon only nods.

When you feel your shoulders start to relax, that’s when you force your body upright and grab the vodka again. You’ve done this enough times but the searing pain of alcohol being poured into your wound still hurts. Everybody hears the sound of the liquid dripping onto the floor mixed with your short whimpers of suffering.

The boys feel helpless as they stare at you cleaning yourself up without assistance. It kills them to sit so immobile as you fight your pain in front of them. Your composure starts to crumble as the alcohol cascades down your arm and everybody is shocked to see you aren’t doubling in pain.

It kills Sunghoon to sit so powerless like he did when you first convinced him to leave with you. He can barely look at the blood spilling from your arm onto his table. His friends try to look away but can’t, eyes glancing back at you every so often. Sunghoon hates seeing you in pain like this and he resents that there’s nothing he can do to help you. He decides that he should look around his apartment for any listening devices in case the assailant comes back to finish the job.

He comes back a while later after searching the entire place, overturning even the smallest piece of decor he owns. His limited experience follows him from room to room, searching for audio devices in unassuming crevices and obvious places. When he feels confident that he did a thorough job, he returns to the living room to find the blood-soaked towels on the table and Jay holding a roll of paper towels.

“I searched my place,” Sunghoon informs. “There should be no bugs or anything.”

“Bugs?” Jake asks quizzically.

“Audio devices or anything that could be used to listen in on us. You can never be too sure.”

“Good,” you comment weakly. Jay does his best to throw away everything he can in the trash and clean up too.

The three boys sit in silence once more. Your winces short pained breaths are the only audible sound in the room. Sunghoon looks away every time the needle pierces your skin and wonders how you’ve built up a tolerance to this type of pain. His heart aches when he thinks about you doing this alone.

“I need to eat or else I’m going to pass out. Do you have anything?”

“All the food in the fridge is probably rotten by now,” Sunghoon mumbles. “One of us should get some food for tonight.”

“I’ll go to the store across the street and get something,” Jake volunteers, his stomach churning from the sight before him.

“Take Jay with you,” he hears you instruct. “From now on, we need to stay in pairs.”

“Sure thing,’ Jay nods.

The two of them come back in record time. Sunghoon helps you sit upright when you fail to compose yourself and tries not to think anything of it when your head leans on his body. Your mouth quivers like you’re trying to keep yourself from crying in front of him.

Sunghoon opens a few of the packaged foods that his friends had bought, setting it far from where your arm is on the table. He beckons you to open your mouth and feed you flavorful crackers and other dry foods that won’t distract you from stitching yourself up. He feels your lips touch his fingers when he feeds you and Sunghoon feels like his body is on fire.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry you have to see this.”

“So this is why you’ve been gone?” Jay asks Sunghoon. “What the fuck happened to the both of you?”

“I guess now’s the best time to explain,” you say after a long beat of silence. “I owe you guys that much.”

“That would be nice.” Sunghoon glares at his friend but you put your arm on him and shake your head.

“Maybe we should let her concentrate so she doesn’t injure herself any more than she already is.”

“Talking distracts me from the pain.” They sit in front of you quietly. Jay anxiously bounces his leg in his seat when you pull the needle through.

Jake stares at your arm before looking up. “Who are you?”

“There are a lot of bad people in this world who want to acquire power to the point of being drunk off of it, and there are bad people who carry out orders to ensure this power is transferred from one entity to another.”

“Which one are you?” Sunghoon stands from his seat when Jay looks at you with a hard expression but you shake your head. He backs down, sitting in his seat without a word.

“The latter,” you say honestly. “I’m an independent contractor, of sorts. I’m somebody who has the physical means to push power in any direction my Command tells me to without question.”

“Command?”

“Command is the organization that employs me.”

“None of this makes sense, Y/N. Who are you working for? What line of work puts you in this kind of danger?”

“I do things that get the job done,” you say, gritting your teeth as you pull a stitch taught. “I fight, steal, and harm anyone who gets in the way of a successful mission. My job is to succeed, Jay. My purpose is to win.”

“H-Harm?” Jake chokes on his words.

“By any means necessary.”

“You’re not serious,” Jay comments. “None of this is real.”

“All of it is real and it’s my life. It’s all I know and it’s what I grew up with.”

Jake shakes his head. “All of this is so confusing to me. You’re saying that there’s an organization called ‘Command’ and you’re an independent contractor that carries out orders to complete a job. Just what kind of job do you have?”

“Do you see the state of my arm?” Jake nods. “What I do in my day to day life is serious business. My job changes everyday and there’s nothing I can’t accomplish. I do whatever is necessary to ensure that Command gains as much power and money as possible to keep a balanced order as we know it. I do bad things for bad people. Did, I should say.”

Sunghoon quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

The last stitch stings. You tie it to the best of your ability and clean the wound until you can’t bear to stand the pain anymore. The boys in front of you gawk at you.

“I used to harm people if it meant serving the greater good according to Command.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Sunghoon’s voice quivers and you cast your eyes to the table.

“I think you know.”

“That guy who broke into your apartment and tried to strangle you to death works for Command too, doesn’t he?”

“I assume so. I didn’t recognize him but his combat style is similar to mine. I can only assume we come from the same place.”

“That doesn't explain why he tried to kill you.”

You shake your head. Sunghoon watches as your eyes become wet as you pat your wound dry, throat constricting from the pain in your arm and within your heart.

“He didn’t try to kill me. He was trying to kill you.”

“Why me?”

You speak above a whisper.

“Because I was taking too long.”

The gears in his head turn as he looks at you from where he sits. Sunghoon feels like the reality around him has shattered into a thousand pieces. He can't seem to stitch back together as he looks between your arm and your face. For the first time since he’s known you, you can’t look him in the eye.

It clicks for him.

“Me?” Sunghoon asks incredulously. “You were sent to kill me?”

You bite your lip. “That thumb drive your boss gave you contains years worth of documented payroll. Your colleagues and investors have been diverting funds from the company into a shell bank account for decades. This portion of money is used by Command to fund our missions and carry out any necessities to ensure anybody who petrays this organization sees the end of their life.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Sunghoon stands from his chair and walks around the living room. He looks at you like you’ve shattered his heart, as if the pieces are scattered onto the floor before him. “You tried to kill me?” The crack in his voice brings tears to your eyes.

“I wasn’t going to. I’ve been like this since I was thirteen and didn’t know any better. If I wanted a roof over my head and food to eat, I needed to work for it. But you, Sunghoon…You are somebody I could never hurt.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that when you lived next door to me for months, waiting for the right time to kill me? What, were you gonna murder me in my sleep?” He runs his hands over his face. “Oh god, were you going to do something to me the night you came over? Is that why you agreed to hang out with me?”

“No!” you exclaim. “You were my daydream too, Sunghoon. You were the most normal part of my life where I didn’t have to think about my fake job as a security guard or mission updates on your wellbeing. You were my friend. You were somebody I wanted to trust.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I-I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve wanted out for so long,” you plead. “I don’t want to live this life anymore. I was sent on this mission with the hopes of acquiring that thumb drive but I don’t give a shit about that anymore. I don’t care about obeying orders. I don’t care about who holds power because only the worst of the worst are the ones who run the show.”

“You’re the worst of the worst!” Sunghoon exclaims. “God, I actually let myself fall for you even though we barely knew each other. I let myself trust you when we were on the run, and now what? Are you gonna rat me out to your Command? Are you going to bring my head on a silver platter to your master?”

“I would never,” you plead, hot, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks and the side of your face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well you’ve hurt me. Congratulations, Y/N.”

Sunghoon walks into his bedroom with his back turned to you. Jay and Jake watch as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes and wince at the pain in your arm now that the alcohol is starting to subside.

“That’s really fucked up, Y/N,” Jake says. “You were going to murder our best friend. How did you think Sunghoon was going to react?”

You shake your head. “My entire life is order after order. I never make decisions for myself. I don’t live for myself. You have to understand that disobeying orders means you get killed and saving Sunghoon was the biggest risk I have ever taken in my life. It’s the first choice I’ve made for me, not for Command. The person who tried to kill us probably knew I went rogue. There’s a reason why he was shooting at both of us. I’m a target too.”

“Wait, so someone tried to kill you tonight? For real this time?”

“Yeah, well you’ve hurt me. Congratulations, Y/N.”

You nod. “It won’t stop either. They’ll come looking for me and Sunghoon. He’s somebody who saw something he shouldn’t have and I’m a rogue assassin who betrayed her people. My head is on a platter too. The last thing I want to do is see Sunghoon dead.”

Jay sighs. “This is really hard to believe. You can’t seriously think any of us will trust you after what you just told us.”

“You have to,” you croak. “I wouldn’t risk my life by betraying Command to save Sunghoon and bring him out of town if I wanted to see him dead.”

“You have a point. But this all seems…far fetched.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. I don’t expect either of you to think positively of me or to believe in me. But I’m asking you to trust me if you want to see Sunghoon live. I can’t protect him if he doesn’t want my help.”

“What makes you think you could protect him? Your arm is damaged and you don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I know people,” you tell them. “I have contacts all over the globe for doing favors and spending time in places for months at a time. And in the meantime, I have a friend who might be willing to help us start escaping Korea and find refuge where Command won’t find us.”

“How do we know this person is trustworthy?” Jake asks.

“We talk about this life, Heeseung and I,” you explain. “We grew up together. We’ve known each other since we were four and grew up learning how to fight hand-to-hand combat together. He’s seen me bloody and broken far too many times than I can count. You can’t trust many people in this line of business, but he’s saved me too many times for me to not trust him.”

“This Heeseung person, is he close by?”

“There’s an abandoned warehouse in the most southern part of Korea. Heeseung was supposed to oversee its demolition but told me he never did in the event that somebody needed refuge. As far as I know, the warehouse is still functional and he still operates from over there.”

“So, what, are you and Sunghoon going to meet up with Heeseung and life will suddenly be fine?”

“I don’t know.” You swallow harshly. “But I know that Heeseung is good at fixing wounds and funneling people and hiding. He is the only person I would risk my life to save and I know he’d do the same for me.”

“You saved Sunghoon’s,” Jay comments.

You bite your lip. “I would risk my life for him too. He was the first person that made me feel like a human being, like I didn’t have to be ashamed of my flaws or shortcomings. Everyday I imagined a life where we could be friends instead of leading the life that I do. Talking to him made me feel like I finally had the privilege of freedom. But then someone broke into the wrong apartment and involved both of us. I risked my life by saving him and now that Command likely knows I’m on the run with him, they’re out to kill us both.”

“Be honest with us. Are you willing to sacrifice your life to protect Sunghoon?”

You meet Jay’s eye and answer him without hesitation.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if we can really trust you fully,” Jake stars, “but it sounds like you’re in trouble too. Killing Sunghoon now wouldn’t save your life, would it?”

You shake your head. “Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

Jay sighs. “Well, it’s not like you could kill any of us with a damaged arm. You should probably get some sleep and disinfect the arm. Sunghoon’s shower is just down the hallway. The towels are in the cabinet beside it.”

They watch you stand up and bow in a ninety-degree angle despite the pressure it puts on your arm. You stand up to look at them with eyes full of sorrow and regret, the kind that has your lips trembling and eyes watering.

“For whatever it’s worth, thank you for listening to me.”

“Yeah, well we needed answers.”

You let a tear fall. “I’m sorry.”

“Answer this for me,” Jake asks. “Why did Heeseung keep the facility and what’s he using it for, really?”

You bite your lip. “I heard through the grapevine that there have been talks about an uprising to take down Command. There are dozens of people like me, people who are tired of being ordered to kill and perform other horrendous acts against humanity. Heeseung and I often talk about abandoning our post but neither one of us had the courage to actually do it.”

“But you did.”

“After I met Sunghoon, yeah. I’ve never lived in an apartment before. It’s always small hostels or hotels until the job is over, and then I return to base camp where everything feels like a prison. Living next to Sunghoon let me develop a routine where I deluded myself into thinking I could have a future like that someday.”

“So you just…gave up that life?”

“I suppose so.”

“This uprising,” Jay says, “what’s it going to accomplish?”

“If done right, then Command will be wiped out of existence. This means no paper or digital trail. All backlogs are demolished and everyone who wants to be free, will be free.”

“That’s a lot to ensure no one targets your back.”

“There’s only one person who gives out orders,” you explain. “Everyone else are pawns who’ve been kidnapped and bred to become the type of people we are today. Nobody wants to live this lifestyle. Nobody wants to die a killer.”

“Okay,” Jay says after a moment of silence. “But I think it’s best if you freshen up and get some sleep.

Jake sighs when he hears the bathroom door close.

“What are we gonna do? If Y/N hadn’t stitched herself up in front of us, I’d call bullshit and tell Hoon to move out of this building.”

“I don’t know what to feel either,” says Jay. “I don’t trust her because she just told us she was sent to kill him but you saw how well she kept herself together just now. She could’ve killed him and gotten that thumb drive whenever she wanted to.”

“I don’t trust her either, but she said her life is on the line whether or not Sunghoon is dead. She could’ve done something to him but she hasn’t. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Jay sighs for the umpteenth time. “For now, let’s just try to make sure Sunghoon and Y/N aren’t anywhere near each other tonight. I know she could probably kill us all in our sleep but we would’ve been dead by now if she didn’t trust us.” The two boys look at your gun, which is still sitting on the table.

“You’re right,” Jake agrees. “She should take Hoon’s guest bedroom and rest up. I can’t imagine how much pain she’s in. You should probably be the one who talks to him, too. He always listens to you.”

Jay laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s stay the night just in case. Lord knows we don’t need those two killing each other.”

Jake leaves to prepare the guest bedroom and calm his nerves away from the bloody table. Jay walks to Sunghoon’s bedroom door and raps his knuckles against the wood.

“Hoon, open up,” Jay beckons. “It’s me.”

It’s quiet for a moment until he hears Sunghoon’s feet shuffling behind the door.

“If you’re going to tell me to forgive her and move on, forget it.” Jay walks into the room when Sunghoon doesn’t close the door in front of him.

“I wasn’t going to. You have every right to feel the way you do. I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.” Sunghoon bites back a snarky comment, knowing his anger isn’t redirected at Jay.

“I feel so fucking betrayed. I feel like my life is over and there’s nothing I can do to get back the time I had. I wish I never met Y/N and I wish I never opened that stupid fucking thumb drive because then I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Take is easy, okay?” Jay says. “I know that’s virtually impossible given the circumstances, but there’s nothing you can do right now. Y/N’s in the shower and Jake’s preparing the guest room for her now.”

“I want this to be over. Or better yet, I just want someone to end my misery.”

Jay sits next to Sunghoon on his bed, knocking his shoulder against his. “Don’t say that. You’ve survived and gotten this far. It’s only fair that you see it through and make it out alive.”

“But what does that even mean?” Sunghoon asks, exasperated. “The end could be years from now. I don’t even know what I’m fighting for. I can’t stay here long or they’ll find me and murder me. I don’t even know what Y/N’s end goal is. We’ve been running for so long and I didn’t know any of her intentions until tonight.”

“I can’t speak for her and I won’t because who she is, isn’t someone I’d want in your life,” Jay begins. “But she’s dead whether or not you are. If you die and the mission is complete, her head is still on a platter because she disobeyed her orders.

“I’m not telling you to trust her because of who she is, but I’m telling you that it seems like she truly doesn’t want you to get hurt. She waited for months to even talk to you and never made a point to involve you in any of this before you disappeared. Y/N told us she has a contact that could potentially help the two of you with your predicament, and that’s the best that I can see for the time being. Part of me thinks she means what she says.”

“What if she’s lying?”

“No one can be sure of that. But what I know is that it’s late and you look like you haven’t slept in ages. Take a shower once Y/N’s done and get some shut eye. Jake and I will be here when you wake up.”

“I hate that she’s using my shower,” Sunghoon grumbles.

“What you hate is that you still like her, even after all of this.”

Sunghoon groans. “Stop reading me. You’re a freak for always being right.” Jay laughs.

“I’m really glad you’re okay. You had us worried sick and we thought we’d never see you again.” Sunghoon opens to talk but Jay shakes his head. “You don’t need to explain anything to me after what we just went through with Y/N and her arm. Get ready for bed and then get some sleep.”

Jay departs from Sunghoon’s bedroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He can hear the sound of their feet shuffling outside when the impending tiredness overwhelms him unexpectedly. When he’s sure you’re not occupying the bathroom, Sunghoon takes a quick shower and relishes being in his own bathroom with hot water. He lets the steam soak into his skin before drying himself off and brushing his teeth.

Sunghoon chooses to slip underneath the covers in his bedroom. You’re out cold in the guest bedroom next to his while Jay and Jake volunteered to take watching shifts. The only thing he can hear is the soft hum of the wind from outside. It feels peaceful and serene. But this tranquility makes him uncomfortable. He’s starting to understand why you work well under pressure.

As he melts underneath the covers, Sunghoon allows his heavy eyes to close shut. He dreams of nothing.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The smell of sausages brings Sunghoon out of his slumber. Being somewhat well-rested feels foreign to him as he walks out of the bathroom performing his morning routine like any other day. It feels odd to look at himself in his mirror, putting on face products that have sat untouched for a week.

Jake is frying eggs when he walks into the kitchen area while Jay is prepping the bowls and utensils. Sunghoon watches silently as the two work in tandem to prepare gyeran bap with sausage on the side. The scent makes his mouth water.

“Morning,” Sunghoon croaks. “Is Y/N still sleeping?”

“Last I checked,” Jay says with a nod.

“Good. I don’t know if I can face her right now.”

“You’ll need to eventually.”

“I know.” Sunghoon sits in a chair and slumps over the table, which is significantly cleaner than when he last saw it. “Everything feels too fresh.”

“Y/N probably feels the same,” Jake says. “She sounds like she wants out of whatever business she finds herself in. I’m not defending her or anything, but you heard her. She grew up in this lifestyle so I can’t imagine how hard it must be to break away from something you’ve always known.”

“Still.”

Sunghoon eats his breakfast in silence with Jay while Jake volunteers to wake you up and help you with changing your bandages. They’re done eating by the time you emerge and Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to look at you, keeping busy by playing with his fingers. He feels your eyes on him and ignores the guilt that gnaws in his chest when he pretends you aren’t there, eating your breakfast next to him.

“We need to talk about next steps,” Jake says, cutting the tension. “You two obviously can’t stay here since it’ll be a liability for your safety. Hoon, you probably can’t go to your parents’ and neither Jay or I have enough space for you guys in the long run.”

“Y/N mentioned an abandoned warehouse that was salvaged and is fully operational,” Jay tells Sunghoon. “She knows someone there she trusts that might be able to help you two escape Korea or stay hidden long enough.”

Sunghoon huffs. “Trust. Sure.”

“It seems like your best bet.”

“Please Sunghoon,” you beg. “Please choose to continue living.”

He sighs. “It’s hard to hear you, of all people, say that to me.”

You nod. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever say anything that will make things better but being on the run is what I’m good at and this isn’t an opportunity we can pass up”

He looks up at his friends. “So this is it, huh? I’m just…never going to see you guys again?”

Jay and Jake share a look.

“Well…” Jake draws out, rubbing the back of his next. “Not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re coming with you,” Jay says.

“What?” Sunghoon says incredulously. “No you’re not. You guys can’t risk your lives just to save mine.”

“Y/N told us about this uprising,” Jay explains, “to take down Command and end this organization for good. I’d be a fool not to be part of it after knowing what they put you through.”

“Our lives truly mean nothing if we ignore this and pretend people aren’t suffering,” says Jake. “Y/N can’t carry the burden alone.”

He finally looks at you. “You’re going to take down Command?”

“I’ll probably die trying, but yes. We can leave Korea but I can’t in good faith leave it here where more people die and suffer every single day.”

“This person she knows is someone who’s all for the uprising too,” says Jake. “If your next logical step is to hide away in his warehouse until life becomes more quiet, I think we should go too.”

“You can’t,” Sunghoon says, shaking his head. “You two have lives here, for God’s sake.”

“None more than you did.”

He looks at you. “Why are you encouraging them?”

“I’m not,” you say. “But I know two ambitious people when I see them. If they’re willing to help me with my mission, I’d be stupid to turn them down.”

“This is batshit. You can't just leave everything behind for me.”

Jay smiles. “It’s what friends are for, right?”

He knows there’s no use arguing when his friends are looking at him like they’ve already made up their minds. Sunghoon averts his eyes to see you with your arm slung on the table and then back to his friends, and sighs.

“Welcome to the team. Let’s pray we don’t die.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

please consider leaving a comment (or two) and reblogging! x

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#sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon #secrets untold #my writing

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in-daddy-price-we-trust · 2 years ago

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All I Wanted - Part 2

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Part 1 Part 3

AN: Here it is! The Long awaited part two !!

Hope you enjoy this just as much as part one !!

Price POV

This was not what they needed right now. When 141 first heard of a potential weapons trade for El Sin Nombre going down in Amsterdam, they couldn't wait to get on the field.

The suspense was killing them as they waited for the right moment. They knew at this point that trying to stop the deal would be more hassle than worth. So the plan of waiting for their food to come to them was a better solution.

Price stalled however when he saw her step out. No way this was who they were after. No one in a cartel would go about wearing over-pink clothes. It was stupid. Even more so when she started shooting back, with a pistol as well.

"Ghost, move in," the static of the radio crackled before a grumbled copy sounded back. Price watched as Ghost snuck up behind her, his feet silent as he kicked her knees in and knocked her out.

"Well done Ghosty," The Scotsman, Soap, cheered over the comms, making his way down to the evac truck they scheduled.

She sat in-between him and Ghost. "No way she's with Nombre," Gaz announced after a few minutes of silence, "She's a child!" A hum left Soap's throat.

"That's why we integrate her, Nombre or not, we can still use her to our advantage," Price concluded, sending the group back into quiet before she awoke.

Gaz was right. She was a child, barely reaching 16. Guilt hung heavy in his heart as he thought back to her crying. Cheeks red with tears and eyes puffy.

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering a 'Jesus Christ' under his breath at the discovery. Eyes flicked across the room, every single soldier in that room seemed to suffocate in the amount of tension.

With a heavy sigh, Price spoke again. "How about we make a deal?" her head shot up at the words, a mix of emotions slathered across her features. From here he could tell she was picking apart his words.

"You, stay with us and get a place to stay," Price's eyes drifted to his team behind her.

"But - you have to help us catch our guy," The words cemented in her brain, slowly nodding along to them. It couldn't be worse to what she was used to, can it? Worse case scenario, she runs away again.

"Okay," it was final, "But I need to get my gear first."

The drive was quiet. The radio played some random pop song that she muttered the lyrics too, fingers drumming on her thighs.

The boys seemed glad she accepted the deal. Although it may be the fact she was a minor and by the sounds of it, partaking in crime activity. Of course, this wouldn't be as different but at least all expenses were paid for by the government.

The car lulled to a stop, pulling up in front of the hotel. The door slammed shut before Price even registered her unclicking her seat belt leaving him to race after her.

A smile graced her lips as she greeted the lady at the front desk, who then proceeded to side eye Price. He would too if he saw a teenager going up to a hotel room with a 40-something-year-old man.

The pair continued to be silent in each other's presence, even when her fingers slipped together pressing and pulling on each one as a sort of fidget. The lift dinged at the second floor, Price hot on her heels to the hotel room. She muttered the number continuously under her breath, 105.

Number splayed in gold, she struggles to get the keycard from wherever she managed to store the thing, like seriously, where did she put things?

The door pushed open to the room. The white linen sheets still a mess from when she woke up this morning. What caught his eye was the absurdly bright duffle bag that sat on the middle of the hardwood floors, from where he stood he could make out the top of a pink sniper.

'Jesus the girl knew how to stick to a theme, that's for sure..'

Diligently she picked up the weapons she managed to slide into nooks and crannies. Picking up stray plushies along the way. Price tried to help, but whenever he tried to pick up a cuddly brown bear he'd get holes burnt unto his head. So he eventually dropped it, opting to stand near the door.

Before long she came up to him, bag over her shoulder and a determined look in her eyes. The trip back to reception was awkward. The same tense atmosphere seemed to follow like a shadow. The lift dinged again, the robotic voice announcing their arrival.

She marched over to the receptionist, explaining she was checking out early (even though there was still two weeks left) and saying if anyone needed it to let them have the room for free. The soft spoken words melted the workers heart, promising to do as told.

Your POV

Price was awkward. Maybe the commanding aura around him clashed with yours of innocence. But - you both knew yours was fake. To some extent at least.

"Why did you make a deal? - with me?" It was a genuine question. The want of appreciation and validation flooding through your veins.

His eyes flicked down to you, noticing you already looking him in the face. He huffed a laugh at it. Soft, warm. "Well - I'm not just going to toss a kid out on the street, am I?" It was the truth. Voice of honey and liquid gold washing over you. Clouding your brain.

"Thank you, Price."

"Doll, wake up for me yeah?" a hum fell past your lips as you stirred awake, rubbing your eyes.

"Are we back already?" voice hoarse and scratchy, a yawn coming from you mid sentence.

Price chuckled at you. 'Glad someone finds this amusing.'

"C'mon love - I'll show you to your new room and you can have a kip in there, kay?" His voice was soft, almost like the words would make you shatter and crumble like glass. Though it worked, pushing you out of the passenger seat of the car and onto the (now) familiar gravel plaza. Pink mary janes dragged behind you, sleep seeping into your bones.

That was soon rushed out of you when Mohawk appeared in front of you and Price. "Hi lassie, names Sargent John Mactavish but Soap is fine!" He beamed, pearly whites flashing down as you appeared wide eyed at him, stunned at the sudden (and quite frankly, loud) appearance. He threw a hand over his shoulder, pointing at the other figure you completely missed, "And that's Gaz." It was the shorty of the group, giving you a sheepish wave and a sympathetic smile at the loud Scot.

Price placed a hand on your shoulder, a slight apology maybe? You found yourself staring up at him before speaking, "Uhm.. thank- thank you Soap-?" cursing yourself for stumbling over your words. The nicknames getting caught on your tongue at its strangeness. "What kind of name is 'Soap' anyways?" He laughed at that, full belly laughed. Sort of high like a bell, although pleasant.

"M' Afraid I can't tell ya that, confidential," It was spoken with a wicked grin plastered across his face. The smile contagious and making the pink bands of your braces show. "Why don't Gaz and I show you to your new room?" A glance to Price and his nudge of the head allowed you to accept the offer, Soap instantly grabbing the bag from off your shoulder and pulling you along, going on to ramble about his hometown in Scotland.

taglist: @urfavsunkissedleo @greenkiki @daryldixonh0e @elijahssuit @theunknownartistsworld @rafaelacallinybbay @cycy-nicole @romanticizedillness @thedeluded @blueoorchid @guiltyconfessions @r3dc4ndy @unnoticed-human @crazyfandomist @jaymum @chb-7 @chromslover @connierk690 @lilpothoscuttings @darkfaethedestroyer @cptg00s3 @elvyshiarieko @8-29pm @howlerwolfmax @minkyungseokie @tapioca-marzipan @cinnamoroll-things @kittythebloodykiller @thicc-plum @phoenixmistycal @marytvirgin @eddiesbitch83 @dwkfan

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #141 x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod #call of duty fanfic #x reader

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n-agiz · 1 year ago

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FWB! CHOSO KAMO HCSㅤsmut [ fem! reader ] cws size kink + hair pulling + oral (f) + creampie + choso is basically a service dom ! MDNI

FWB! CHOSO who feels himself get slightly lightheaded when he sees you for the first time. you're in a bar, sitting in a softly light up corner talking with your girl friends and although he usually doesn't go out to these sorts of places, more often than not preferring a fun night in over one spent in a loud room full of drunk people, tonight choso's glad he decided to come. you're beautiful, almost unfairly so, and once more he decides to step out of his comfort zone and approaches you, taking the chance when you walk up to the bartender to order another round of whatever you and your friends were drinking — that information completely skipping his mind as he focuses on you, mustering up the courage to approach you just as you're about to leave and, thankfully, you're nice enough to listen to him even as he stumbles on his words trying to ask for your number. you smile, giving it to him faster than you probably would if you were completely sober, and end up staying to talk with him instead of going back to your friends.

FWB! CHOSO who kisses you the second time you hang out. this time you're in a park, a somewhat lazy date that involved you two and ice creams on a sunny afternoon, and he isn't completely sure why he does it because he usually isn't one to take things so far so fast, but he leans in without thinking twice and kisses you fervently, as if he had been wanting to do it for years. his want for you is unusual, choso concludes, something that burns him in a way that it feels as if his brain will spiral unless he acts on it, so when he asks you if you want to come back to his apartment, he isn't sure you'll accept, doubting he has the same effect on you that you have on him — but much to his surprise, you say yes, acknowledging that your feelings for him, how attracted to him you are, are also something foreign to you, this sort of almost uncontrollable lust something you had never experienced before.

FWB! CHOSO who, from the first time he touches you, is just so gentle. he's a big guy, and he knows it, deeply aware that although his strength and physique are something he prides himself on, they can also be a con instead of a pro if he starts acting careless. he enjoys picking you up before carefully laying you down on his bed, liking how you look under him, how his frame towers over yours and how overwhelmed you always look when he's on top of you. the way your fingers run through his arm, feeling up his muscles even if you won't admit to it, makes his cock ache, pure want filling him at the sight of you almost eating him with your eyes. he isn't left in a much better position tho, never getting tired of how good you look, always ready to ravish you until you're nothing but a moaning mess.

FWB! CHOSO who is quick to discover what you like, what makes you scream his name in pleasure the loudest, and who gets to know your body better than anyone ever has. he is just so eager, so ready to please and yet so dominant, always the one in control of the situation, letting you simply relax, only asking what you want so he can do it for you. his fingers know where to press to make your eyes roll back, his lips always wrapped around the spots that make you the wettest, and his cock always thrusting into the place that makes you cum the hardest. he just loves seeing you like that — nothing but a moaning mess, so deep into your own pleasure you can barely acknowledge anything else beside it.

FWB! CHOSO who loves eating you out, loves how you taste and how your clit feels twitching against his tongue and lips — but loves the most how you play with his hair, how your fingers wrap around the thick strands and pull on it, deep groans always coming from him when you do it, loving the sting on his scalp but also how you push him closer to your pussy, his lids falling close and his cock leaking more than it ever has in that moment, so hard it hurts to not touch it, but he resists the urge, preferring to wait until he can fuck you.

FWB! CHOSO who as soon as he slips into you lets out a satisfied grunt, head tilting down for a second before he starts moving his hips. his thrusts are slow, but each one sends you to the moon and back, his strokes beyond precise, always hitting the sweet spots inside you that he knows make you feel the most pleasure. he likes to savor the moment, to take his time with you, leaning down every once in a while to leave fleeting kisses down your neck, past your collarbones, and finishing on your chest, his lips tender as they touch your skin. he moves his hands down to your waist, wanting to get a better grip on you, fingers digging into the soft flesh when he starts picking up a quicker pace, cock starting to reach deeper into you, every time he bottoms out a sweet moan falling from his lips until he eventually cums, only then his thrusts becoming a bit messier, the way his orgasm hits him and how your pussy wraps so well around him while he fills you up with cum making him come the closest to spiraling that he ever has, all of it so overwhelming and still somehow never enough, his body always craving more of it �� more of you, always wondering just how much more of only being friends with benefits he can handle before he breaks, slowly starting to realize that now, months after meeting you, his feelings are most definitely morphing into something more than just lust and desire.

N-AGIZ '23ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

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motimatcha · 8 months ago

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"nostromo"

PART 4. They don't laught about legends.

parts: one | two | three | four | five

dbd Xenomorph (alien) x fem!reader. attention: nothing?

The xenomorph was not present at the next test, nor at the second, third... it seemed that the Entity had completely gotten rid of one of its killers, and it would have been so, but Ellen was still here, like the Nostromo, empty without its owner.

At first, you were more than happy that your personal nightmare would no longer bother you during the tests, but for some reason it began to seem to you that along with the xenomorph you had lost something important. Other killers could not bring you the same thrill and adrenaline during the chase as the unpredictable stranger did. Who else, besides him, is capable of switching from close to long-range attacks, hiding his presence and appearing in the most unexpected places. Some things with an extraterrestrial being could only be rivaled by Michael Myers, and GhostFace, teasing you with his deep voice after one test.

The same one when you were ready to almost kiss him.

“GostFace,” you decided to raise your voice while repairing the generator, when the named one, hiding his presence, was sitting almost behind you. The killer did not answer you, but since there was no blow from him, you could conclude that he was surprised and interested. Did his banter have an effect? “By chance, you don’t know, a survivor can get into the killer’s territory without being on...”

You don't have time to come to an agreement. A knife whistles through the air dangerously close. The heart misses a beat - vulnerability. It was necessary to look at GostFace, and not sit carelessly at the generator.

Dash to the side and forward along the corridor to the nearest boards. The Lary Memorial Institute was rich in the number of window openings, corridors, rooms, boards - everything that could be used against killers and killers against survivors. Such as GhostFace chasing you felt almost like a fish out of water, if only there were more tall bushes to hide in and keep an eye on the survivors, it’s just a fairy tale.

“Apparently he thought that I was making fun of him,” you thought. And although you did not mean anything like that, and your question was asked out of sincere curiosity, it is unlikely that the killer will listen to you now. Most likely, now he will only chase after you in retaliation, but it’s not that you need to get used to such an attitude.

There are four generators left to run.

You were left standing at the exit from the location created by the Entity. The other survivors had already left, but considered it their sacred duty to call you crazy since you wanted to say goodbye to their failed killer. You decided not to say that you actually wanted to ask a couple of questions to the Entity’s pet.

The GostFace came to you slowly. Another sound signal sounded and another earthquake shook the collapsing world. It was clear from him that he hoped that you had given up trying to find out something from him, but your determination and stubbornness could compete with his own when he was tracking down a new victim.

“This is a one-sided rule,” the silent killer speaks sharply and unexpectedly. You are not quite used to the fact that a seemingly puny guy can have such a low voice. Like smoky.

However, his words force you to think deeply. "One-sided rule"? What the hell is he talking about ? You go through all sorts of options in your head, up to the point that the killers can’t... oh. O!

“Thank you,” you respectfully nod your head and your voice is full of sincere gratitude and enthusiasm. “Oh, you don’t know how exactly you can get into the killer’s territory?”

Perhaps it seemed to you, but under the mask GostFace rolled his eyes. Yes, it definitely seemed to you like a trick of the imagination after a long chase, and he doesn’t think you’re an ignorant fool. Exactly.

“How do you think the Essence responds to us all and gives us certain opportunities? The hatch in the killer's hut, the thickening fog... you make yourself look awkward, even though you've been here much longer than I have. Although if you come up now and allow me to send you to the entity...”

The killer's statement hurts you, but you maintain a stoic expression. God forbid if he realizes that his words really hurt you and starts using it against you, as is happening now after your fiasco in one of the tests.

“I understand that with the help of offerings, but where to use them? I can’t approach...” you didn’t dare to talk about the fact that the survivors have a fire where you all gather after the tests. You can expect anything from a person like GhostFace, up to and including the fact that he just lied to you and in fact the killers can get to the survivors, they just don’t want to do this for their own personal reasons. “...the place where we use our offerings and wish to go to the one I need.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that?”

“And who told you this?”

“Other survivors who were told this by the Entity?”

“She actually came to bow to you and said, “survivors, you cannot use the offerings from this thing to get to the killer”?”

“Well... probably not? I don't know. The knowledge that we cannot use it outside of testing has always been with us.”

“So maybe it’s worth asking this question at your leisure?” asked GhostFace and folded his arms over his chest. He tapped irritably on the rough fabric of his dark clothes with his favorite knife. “That's it, the time for playing question and answer is over. It's time for you to go while I let you go, otherwise...”

There was no need to agree that things would happen differently with you. The floor, covered in red cracks, signifying the destruction of the built world, almost completely swallowed up the memorial institute, and the sound of a beep meant that you only had seconds left. You headed towards the exit through the open gate, but before leaving your informative companion, you turned around to say:

“And GhostFace, I didn’t laugh at you,” the man sighed at your statement and pointedly grabbed the knife, as if preparing for an attack. “They don’t laugh at legends.”

These were your last words before crossing the front gate and leaving the killer with nothing. The latter froze, looking distantly at your back.

“Yes. They don't laugh at legends.”

To be honest, I don’t know why the translator translated the last phrase this way. the original version refers to the history of the ghostface, where he talks about how they don’t laugh at legends (here we go again). I dare to suspect that the sentence written there is in the singular.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd xenomorph x reader #xenomorph x reader

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bluehoodiewoozi · 1 year ago

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The Cat-Parent Trap

Alternatively: Rocket, Mango, and the Idiots in Love

Vernon Chwe x Reader (gender not specified i think? i hope?)

Genre: fluff (figurative & literal)

Word Count: 8.3k

Wanings: some cursing / adult language. alcohol & drunk decisions. some mild jealousy. there are so many cats.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] You start feeding what appears to be a pair of neighbourhood cats. Turns out they belong to the cute guy living in the rooftop apartment.

Note: is this a Vernon romance fic or a typed-out version of my never-ending dreams of getting a cat with Vernon? no clue.

“Hello there, little guys.”

Your melodious greeting was met with an equally musical chorus of meows, purrs and chirps. The otherwise empty hallway filled with the soft patting of tiny feet, the footsteps getting louder as they rushed to greet you, never once forgetting to let out another chirp to tell you they missed you.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the way the smaller black one rubbed itself against your leg, jumping up a little to reach the tips of your fingers for affection. The other, white cat was more passive, merely meowing at you impatiently as she sat down barely a metre from you.

Though you expected no proper answer, you still asked them if they were hungry and how their days had been as you made your way over to the door. The apartment door – a proud golden number 4B shining on it – came unlocked with ease, even with the cats pressing against your calves and bumping against the door frame.

“Give me a moment,” you told them and opened the door.

The sight of the two cats running in like it was their home to begin with greatly amused you. Before you could even blink, the black cat had settled down on your couch, snuggling into your cushion. The other one jumped onto your kitchen chair, expectantly staring at you.

You couldn’t help but wonder where they really lived. Were they just stray cats from the neighbourhood that one of the inhabitants had let in out of pity? Or did they have an owner somewhere in this building? Maybe it was the new couple upstairs: Wonwoo did seem rather fond of cats. Or perhaps they belonged to the grumpy guy from 1B – he seemed to rather adore animals as well.

Whoever their owner was or was not, you did not have the heart to turn these cats away when they asked for snacks so sweetly.

At this point, it was second nature to toe off your shoes and head to the kitchen cabinet to pull out a small bag of treats and a bigger bag of dry food for cats.

All it took was just the sound of the bags being taken out and both cats were once again circling you as if you deserved all the worship in the world. They only calmed down once you had placed the food in the little bowl you had bought for them a few weeks back.

“Eat well,” you sang, and got started on your evening routine. You liked having these cats around – the two-bedroom apartment seemed less empty when the cats visited for an evening.

Sometimes they stayed the night, with the white one happily curled up on your window sill as the black one in a comfy spot at the foot of the bed. You deeply cherished these nights and once again a thought came to mind: who was the one that got to enjoy their cuddles on most night – on the nights when they weren’t with you?

But even with these thoughts plaguing you, you felt a little selfish. You liked these cats. Asking around for their owner could lead to never seeing them again. And then what? You’d have to get a cat or two of your own.

Wide-eyed, you paused in the middle of washing your teeth and stared at your reflection. “That’s not a bad idea.”

A small accusatory meow came from the bathtub, where the white cat had somehow settled down for the evening. You took that as a firm ‘no’ and continued your routine.

Once you were settled in bed, the black cat joined you. Her paws immediately got busy kneading your blanket. You concluded that she either had no sense of loyalty or she really liked you.

You now found that sleep came easier with the cats in your apartment.

The next morning, you did your routine and let the cats out as you stepped out of the apartment. Their little chirps accusing you of abandoning them for the day just about broke your heart. But the show must go on, and they weren’t your cats to begin with. You sighed and began turning the key.

“Wait…” a low voice echoed in the hallway.

Your head whipped around to face towards the staircase. A guy stood there, eyes wide as saucers.

It took you a moment to figure out what he was looking at so intently. It wasn’t you – unless he had a thing for feet –, so it must have been the two cats standing next to you.

To your surprise, the cats seemed equally baffled to see the guy there, their chirps ending momentarily as they stared right back at him as if they’d seen a shadow of their dark past.

“This is where you guys were the whole night?” the guy finally spoke, finally relaxing his posture and frown.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you found yourself in awe. This man looked like someone straight off a coming of age film poster. Did someone this good-looking really live in this complex?

No. There was no way. You would remember this face. He must have been visiting someone on the 6th floor.

But then… why would he care about the cats?

“Do you live here?” you blurted out without much thinking, barely able to keep yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth right after. “Sorry, that was kind of rude. I–”

He chuckled. “I live upstairs, in 6A.” Your knees almost buckled when he walked over to you, picking up one of the cats. “And these guys, they live with me.”

Your mouth felt incredibly dry. “They’re your cats then?”

“Yep,” he nodded and fondly scratched the black cat under the chin, “raised this one myself. Her name is Rocket.”

You really didn’t mean to snort at the name. “Your cat’s name is Rocket?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered by your evident judgement. “I like it, she likes it, … my roommate likes it a bit too much.”

“Roommate?”

Now you put the two and two together: the elusive pair of guys in the rooftop apartment, 6A. The guys that were rarely seen outside the apartment because they – or so it was rumoured by Seungkwan and Mingyu – were unapologetic introverts. That would explain why you had never seen this guy in all your months of living here.

“What were you guys doing here?” he asked the cats so softly you barely heard it. He never once ceased to scratch them. “I was all worried the whole night and here you guys are, cozying up to the pretty neighbour.”

You wondered if it was always this hot in the hallway. When was the last time somebody opened a window here? Maybe you needed to go out and get some fresh air.

“Oh, right!” You slapped your own forehead and locked the door, giving it one last tug to check if you had really finished the task, before dashing down the stairs.

“It was nice to meet you!” you called over your shoulder all the while running. You’d be damned if you were late to work because of a man and his cats.

Once you were out of his line of sight and out of the building, you paused for a moment. The moment replayed in your head like a broken record and you slapped your cheeks to wake yourself. Why did you have to be so damn awkward?

You couldn’t help but sulk as the reality sank in on your way to work.

“I didn’t even ask for his name.”

A week passed without the two cats. An uncharacteristically depressing and boring and long week.

You had grown so used to their chirps and meows every other day. You had even bought a new bag of treats for them like you always did on Thursdays – even though the old one was still half-full.

When you made your way home after a walk on Saturday and saw a lump on your doorstep, you froze. Anxious hope filled you as you inspected it from afar. One step, two steps… On the third step, your anxiety turned into joy.

“Rocket!” you called out to her sweetly and rushed over to pet her head. She purred at your touch. “I was starting to fear you moved or something.”

She only meowed in explanation and stretched while you unlocked the door. She was in before you could even fully open the door – you laughed at the familiarity of it all. Even if it was just Rocket with no sign of the other cat, you were glad to have this moment.

You gave her treats and food before bringing your soft blanket to the sofa so you could commence your favourite Saturday activity: cuddling your neighbour’s cats while watching whichever TV show called to you the most.

It seemed that Rocket was just as glad to partake in the routine. She jumped into your lap before you could even turn the TV on, already purring and kneading the fabric. Maybe she missed you as much as you missed her.

Would her owner be mad if you stole her from him?

You shook the thought out of your head and pressed play on your show. The familiar atmosphere and routine were exactly what you needed to relax after a long week.

Then, just as you reached the halfway point of the first episode, a knock sounded on your door. You decided to ignore it at first – the show was just getting good – but then a second knock sounded, a little louder.

With a sigh, you gently lifted Rocket off you – not before she could accusingly meow at you – and headed for the door. The door opened to reveal her handsome owner.

“Hi,” he started somewhat awkwardly, lifting a hand to give you something similar to a wave, “is my cat here?”

You didn’t really want to give Rocket back, honestly. But you reminded yourself that you were a law-abiding citizen and nodded. Still – maybe you could use this situation to fix a different mistake.

“I’ll give you your cat if you give me your name,” you told him.

His eyes widened at those words. “I– What?” He laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You nodded. “You can’t expect me to give Rocket to a stranger, can you?”

He seemed to contemplate for a moment, his brows furrowing in thought. “You… don’t know my name?” Seeing you shake your head, his frown deepened. “How? We’ve been neighbours for months.”

“I know almost everyone in this block,” you informed him, “so, it’s clearly not my fault. Maybe you’re just too introverted.”

“... Fair.” He straightened his back and turned his frown into a smile. “Hi, I’m Vernon from 6A.

You smiled back brightly. “Hi, I’m–”

“(Y/n) from 5D, I know,” he finished for you before even realising what he said. When the realisation hit, he matched your wide eyes and began spouting apologies: “Oh, I don’t mean like I’m a stalker or anything– I just– I swear I don’t–”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his awkward ramblings. Without another word, you opened the door wider and invited him in with a small gesture of your hand. He breathed out in relief and wandered inside, almost immediately zeroing in on the black ball of fur on your sofa.

“Rocket,” he called to her. The cat’s ear twitched but she made no move to look at him. He sighed. “Rocket!” Still nothing. He turned to you with an apologetic look. “She’s usually more cooperative.”

“I’m sure she’s just very comfy,” you told him with a chuckle. “Her belly’s full and the blanket’s soft, so she’s probably just being lazy.”

Vernon’s brows furrowed again. “You fed her?”

“I always do.” You shrugged. “It’s either that or she steals the cheese off my sandwiches. I chose the lesser evil.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement. “Clever.”

With that, he toed off his shoes and walked over to the cat, picking her up. The cat didn’t seem to like the handling much, lowly growling before settling against his chest. Vernon made a show of bouncing her before looking at you somewhat accusingly, “So that’s why she’s been getting so heavy.”

You had no excuses.

He laughed again. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’ve been saving on treats either.” As he put on his shoes again, his cat in his arms, he told you, “I’m sorry she got out again, by the way. I thought I cat-proofed our apartment, but she’s clearly smarter than I am. I’ll try to figure something out. Sorry again, for the inconvenience.”

Then, with a friendly “goodnight!”, Vernon was gone again, and Rocket with him. Back to lonely weekend depression you fell.

When another week passed without a cat nor a boyfriend, you reached a conclusion: it was time for a pet.

On your day off, you walked to the pet store and headed straight for the rodent cages and fish aquariums. The small animals scurried and swam around in their enclosures, perhaps hoping you’d choose them.

But you were hesitating. After ten minutes of just watching them, contemplating if you were more of a hamster or a rat girl, you sighed and gave up. Sure, a rodent would be a good beginner pet, but, god, you missed the cat.

With a defeated frown, you turned around to leave. Without looking at where you were going, you walked into a warm body. Stumbling back in surprise, you began rambling apologies.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” a familiar laugh sounded. You looked up from the floor to sigh in relief when you recognised Vernon. He offered a wave and a smile. “You okay? You seemed pretty deep in thought.”

You shrugged. “Just contemplating my options, I guess.”

“Options?” Vernon wondered and adjusted the bag of cat food in his arms. He glanced at the cages behind you before understanding dawned on him. “Are you thinking of getting a hamster?”

“Or maybe a chinchilla,” you half-joked. “They seem pretty cuddly too.”

“Oh.” His smile dropped as realisation hit him hard. “You liked having Rocket visit you, didn’t you? I stole your cuddle buddy. I’m sorry.”

For someone who you had formally only known for a week, Vernon was awfully good at reading your mind. You decided to ignore the thought and nodded, trying to seem as playful as you could. “I’m a little mad at you, actually.”

“Can I…make it up to you?” he wondered after a moment, eyes sparkling.

For a moment, you contemplated telling him a date would be a great compensation. It wouldn’t hurt to shoot your shot, right? And then you could maybe have both: a boyfriend and a cat to cure your loneliness. A double win!

But before you could find the courage to even jokingly ask your handsome neighbour out, Vernon came up with his own idea: “You know, I volunteer at a cat shelter in the city. I’m going there tomorrow, actually. Maybe you’d like to come along? Sort of like a date, if you want.” He mistook your silent processing for hesitation, short of rejection, and quickly added, “Maybe you’ll even a find yourself a cat there. Who knows? Doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

You couldn’t have said yes fast enough.

“Ta-da!” Vernon cheered somewhat monotonously as you stepped into the shelter after him. “Welcome to Kiki’s Cat House.”

As he led you further into the lobby, he continued, “I’ve been volunteering here for years. It’s like a second family, honestly.”

“So, where are all the cats?” You looked around the empty room: only a counter, some shelves, a houseplant and beanbags.

He chuckled at your impatience before taking your hand – you tried really hard to not think about the gesture – and leading you into a hallway. There, he opened a door, revealing a room full of spacious cages.

“This is where we keep the spicy, the grumpy, the horny and the antisocial,” he explained as you walked into the room. “They’re gonna take some socialising before we can let them hang out with the other cats, but we’re trying our best. Some of them are just plain assholes, though. This one—” he accusingly pointed at a scruffy orange one-eyed cat, “tried to take my hand off last month. I had to get stitches.”

“Sounds painful.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure he’s had to go through a worse life than I. I forgave him this time.”

After letting you wander and look around for a while, he nudged you. “Do you want to go see where the fun happens?”

“And by ‘fun’ you mean…?”

He chuckled, took your hand again and led you to a room across the hall. Your jaw dropped at the sheer amount of cats wandering around the cosy room. Some were napping on a sofa. Others were climbing on carefully crafted carpeted shelves on the walls. A fluffy grey cat rushed to meet the two of you – or just Vernon, most likely – and chirped cheerfully as your companion crouched down to give her endless head pats.

“Hello there, June,” he greeted with a smile and picked up the cat, straightening back to his full height while holding her to his chest. “She’s kind of new here but she’s a cuddly one.”

When he leaned a little closer to you, you took the invitation to raise your hand and scratch under the cat’s chin. She let out a loud purr at your actions, all the while kneading the fabric of Vernon’s grey hoodie.

“Who knows,” he mumbled, “maybe you’ll want to take her home at the end of the day?”

You chuckled. “It sounds like you have an agenda.”

“Yeah – I need you to stop overfeeding my and my roommate’s cats,” he joked. “They’re chubby as it is.”

“They’re the perfect cuddle size,” you argued.

Vernon offered you a playful glare. “Do you want to tell that to my vet the next time I’m taking them for a check-up? I got scolded last time.”

You laughed. “Alright. Fair. I’ll try to give them less treats the next time they visit. Is the white cat your roommate’s then?”

While waiting for his answer, you crouched down to offer your hand to a black-and-white cat passing by. He gave your fingers a sniff, did a little twirl before pressing his head against your palm for a moment, and then continued on his journey to the food bowls.

Vernon watched him closely, probably already making a list of tasks to accomplish before leaving, and answered absent-mindedly, “Yeah. Snowflake. Jun got him from this shelter. I got Rocket from here too. That’s Kiki, by the way. He’s the shelter’s mascot.”

“And here I was hoping he could be the one,” you joked, already reaching out to another curious cat.

Vernon smiled at you before placing June down onto the floor again. “I’m sure we’ll find your perfect cat. Don’t worry.” As he was crouching next to you, his eyes searched the room for familiar faces. His eyes lit up all of a sudden. “Mango!”

“Mango?” you wondered.

He nodded enthusiastically before practically crawling over to a cardboard box with a door hole on its side. Curious, you followed after him, your heart melting when you saw exactly what had caught your neighbour’s attention: a calico cat lying in the box, on a yellow fleece blanket, nursing two adorable kittens – a black one with white socks and a fluffy orange one. The mother let out a little purr when Vernon reached over to pet her head.

“She had kittens last month,” he whispered as if to not disturb her peace. He glanced around. “I guess the other cats aren’t troubling them too much, otherwise the staff wouldn’t have let her back here.”

“They��re so tiny,” you whispered, eyes sparkling at the sight. “I didn’t realise kittens could be so small.”

“They’re already pretty big, actually,” he chuckled. “You should’ve seen them when they were born. I could’ve fit both of them in my palm.” After another minute of watching the mother and her children, Vernon nudged your side. “Come on, we have work to do. If you do your chores, maybe she’ll let you play with them.”

“Yes, dad,” you joked and joined him in the tasks. But even as you busied yourself, you couldn’t stop looking back towards the box. You had fallen in love with the sweet Mango.

As if, once again, reading your mind, Vernon smiled at you empathetically. “If you want to adopt Mango, you’ll have to take the kittens too. Or wait a little. They should be old enough to be adopted in less than two months.”

You pouted; you weren’t sure you could handle three cats. For the rest of the little date, even Vernon’s blatant flirting and adorable smiles couldn’t cheer you up and bring you out of your thoughts. And so, you left the shelter with a regretful heart.

“You know,” Vernon tried to cheer you up on the way back, “if you want, you can adopt all three of them. Kittens aren’t too difficult to raise. She’ll do most of the work.”

“But I don’t know if I’m ready for that responsibility,” you whispered dejectedly as you slumped into the seat of the bus. “Three cats is a lot more than one.”

“Well,” he sighed softly and reached over to hold your hand, “if you change your mind, I’d be happy to help you bring them home.”

Little did he know the feeling of his hand in yours, fingers interlocked, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, was enough to distract you from your thoughts.

The gnawing regret in your heart did not go away until Wonwoo and Eunmi drove you to the shelter three days later. The engaged couple was more than enthusiastic to help you bring Mango and her kittens home.

You had planned on calling Vernon and inviting him along too, but in the excitement of this new step, you completely forgot. Instead of him, you had turned to Wonwoo, Eunmi and Jihoon (the grumpy guy from 1B) who had all pitched in to help you get your apartment cat-ready. It was the three of them that had encouraged you to take this step anyway – it was only fair that they help.

And now, on this Saturday evening, you could cuddle with your very own cat as a drama played on the TV. You couldn’t stop smiling at the fact that she already trusted you enough to snuggle with you under the blanket, hidden from view, and let her kittens wander around your bedroom without supervision. Who knows, you thought, maybe she’s trying to rest from the responsibilities of motherhood. You couldn’t blame her.

Then, like déjà-vu, a knock sounded on your front door in the midway point of the first episode. Unwilling to leave your comfortable spot, you tried to ignore it. A second knock sounded louder, this time followed by Vernon’s voice, “Hey, can I come in?”

You sighed and called out, “The door’s unlocked.”

“Is it?” he wondered and tried the knob. To his surprise, the door opened immediately. He frowned. “Dude, I don’t think that’s safe. Do you always leave your door unlocked like this?”

He closed the door behind himself and walked into the apartment, keeping his eyes down.

You chuckled. “No, do you think I’m stupid? Wonwoo and Eunmi only left a little while ago – I didn’t get around to locking the door after them. Was a little preoccupied.”

He hummed, still not looking at you as he untied his shoes.

“So,” your eyes narrowed at him, “what brings you to my humble abode?”

“Uh,” he sighed deeply and looked up, “I came to tell you something. I… I got a call from the shelter. They said that…” His frown deepened at the way your eyes sparkled with what he assumed must have been hope. “They said that Mango and her kittens got adopted today. I’m sorry," he breathed out, eyes sad as he cautiously watched you, as if afraid of your reaction. When you only shrugged and nodded, his brows furrowed even more. “Aren’t you upset? I thought you wanted to adopt her yourself…”

It was only then that you realised you had, in fact, forgotten to call him and tell him your plan. He must have thought you'd be heartbroken at the news. Maybe he had even asked the people at the shelter to keep Mango for you. Suddenly, your heart ached at the sight of his sorrowful expression. “Vernon…”

“It’s okay, though,” he quickly interrupted. “We can always go and see if you like any of the other cats." You couldn't find the words to say and once again he took your silence for sadness and rushed to comfort you. "Actually, there’s this girl called Citrus. I’m sure you would like her too. We could go see her tomorrow, if you wanted.” You remained silent, trying to figure out if you wanted to laugh or cry at his thoughtfulness. “(Y/n)?”

You couldn’t take it any more. Instead of saying anything, you gestured for him to come over to you on the sofa. Obediently, he followed your orders and approached you, sitting down next to you.

Once he was seated, you took his hand and led it over to where your cat was snuggled into your stomach under the yellow blanket. Vernon’s brows shot up in surprise.

“Is Rocket here again? I swear she was at home…”

You laughed and rolled down the blanket to reveal two pointy ears, one grey and one orange. His jaw dropped as he reached over to pet her head. Eyes shining, he asked, “You got a cat?”

“Not just any cat,” you told him in a conspiratorial whisper and rolled the blanket down even further until he recognised her calico pattern.

He gasped. “Mango!”

You giggled at his reaction and the way he immediately leaned down to coo at her, her purrs getting louder by the second.

“So,” he realised, smiling brightly, “it was you who adopted her!”

You nodded proudly and gave her a little scratch on the back. “I couldn’t stand the thought of just leaving her there. So, Wonwoo drove me to the shelter and we brought her to her new home. She seems pretty happy to be here.”

“She’s already cuddling with you,” he mused. “It took me weeks to get Rocket to even let me pet her.”

“Maybe she was waiting for me,” you whispered, happy at the thought.

“And the kittens?” he suddenly wondered, sitting up straight. You pointed to your bedroom door.

“Jihoon and I spent the entire morning kitten-proofing my room so we could let them loose there. But I’m sure they’ve gotten to some trouble already.”

Vernon frowned, seeming almost offended. “You called Jihoon but not me?”

“I was going to call you,” you swore, “but it’s been an exciting day so I just–”

“Have you named the kittens yet?” he changed the subject suddenly, as if the previous topic bothered him too much to even consider talking about it. “I don’t think the shelter staff gave them names yet.”

You smiled. “Well, the black one is called Socks.”

“... Because of his white socks?”

“Obviously,” you nodded. “And the ginger one's called Peaches – I guess Jihoon wanted to keep her name on theme.”

“Jihoon named her?” Vernon seemed surprised before nodding. “They’re both very cute names.”

“You can go and play with them, if you want,” you offered with a smile, hoping to cheer him up because he still seemed a little out of it. “Or you can bring them here for a cuddle. I don’t mind.”

“Nah,” he sighed and reached over to pet Mango again, “I’m sure they’re sleeping already. Wouldn’t want to bother them.”

Your lips pouted at his dejected tone. “Do you… want to watch a movie with me? We can cuddle Mango together.”

He lips curled into a half-smile at the idea. “I’d love that.”

“Great,” you cheered, “you can pick the movie.”

(And perhaps he wasn’t as good at picking out movies as he would’ve liked to think: you were leaning against his shoulder in a sleepy haze half-way through the movie.

Still, he couldn’t be mad at you – not when he’d been waiting for a moment like this ever since he saw you step into the building on a Monday ten months ago. He’d been smitten ever since he saw your smile for the first time – even if the smile had been directed at Jihoon giving you the apartment key instead of him hiding behind Mingyu in the hallway.

Even though he’d wanted to watch this movie for weeks, he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over to you instead: resting against his side, curled up in your blanket with Mango spread over your lap, a dazed smile on your face as you stared at the screen.

Feeling his gaze on you, you twisted your neck to look up at him from your position that made you seem impossibly smaller than him – even if your height difference was minimal to none in reality. Your smile never faded as you looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Your new position had your nose brush against his ever so slightly, but it didn’t seem to affect you as much as it did him – at least not in your sleepy daze. He wasn’t sure how you could look so peacefully cheerful while he worried his heart might break out of his rib cage at your proximity.

His eyes flitted between your eyes and your lips; he was hesitating. Just one lean and he could cross another dream off his list. Less than an inch.

He gulped and tore his gaze away, forcing it to focus back on the screen. You soon settled back into your previous position, your head on his shoulder, cheek pressed against his collarbone. He closed his eyes and willed his heart to slow down before it betrayed him.)

Your blissfully calm day was once again interrupted by a knock on the door. You sighed and made your way to the source of the sound.

“Coming, coming,” you called out to the person on the other side. When you unlocked the door and finally saw him, you couldn’t help but smile. “Why is it always you?”

Vernon could only offer a shrug and a hopeless smile. “You don’t seem too bothered by it though.”

“Don’t tell Rocket, but,” you leaned in closer to whisper, “you’re my favourite visitor.”

He grinned wider at that, his ears taking on a red shade, before he cleared his throat. “Um, so, speaking of Rocket…”

He didn’t need to speak another word because you knew exactly where this was going. You sighed. “Did she get out again?” He nodded. “Do you need help finding her?”

“No, I just assumed she’d be here,” he answered, smile dropping into a worried frown. “She isn’t?”

“I definitely haven’t seen her today.”

“Can you check?” he asked, looking nervous all of a sudden. Sensing your confusion, he quickly added, “Just in case? She’s good at hiding so maybe she’s snuck past you or something.”

You agreed and let him inside – if nothing else, it was at least an excuse to spend time with him. He only made it barely halfway through your apartment before letting out an excited cheer: “There you are!”

You blinked in surprise. “Found her?”

“Found her and you’re gonna want to see this,” he called back before just about running (or, really, speed walking) over to you.

As you watched him with wide eyes, he took your hand and practically dragged you over to your bedroom. And there, low and behold, cosily snuggled up on the bed with your own cats was Rocket.

You sighed and offered Vernon a half-accusatory glare. “Is she your cat or mine?”

He shrugged. “I’d like to think she’s mine but– Aw, she’s cleaning the kittens!”

You watched the four cats snuggle even closer together, like a little family: the adults cleaning the kittens who let out accusatory meows and happy purrs. It made you almost jealous in a way.

“How did she even get in?” you wondered to distract yourself from the fact that you were clearly severely touch-starved.

“How did she get out?” Vernon mumbled in similar disbelief before sighing. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Now I feel bad about bringing her home.”

You nodded. “They’re getting along so well. It’s weird, almost.”

“Yeah,” his brows furrowed in thought, “I thought they’d for sure get in a fight the first time they met. Are you sure this is her first time here since Mango came?”

“If it isn’t, I certainly was not aware of the other times.”

Vernon breathed out a little huff before nudging you. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No, why?”

A shy smile appeared. “We could eat together. I mean, Rocket doesn’t seem to have any plans for leaving, and I’m not leaving without her, so…”

“Well, if Mingyu’s words are anything to go by, I am not letting you into my kitchen,” you declared with a chuckle as his face morphed into a grimace of offended disbelief. “I’m serious. I heard you almost burnt down his apartment once.”

“In my defence–!” he loudly started before sighing and nodding. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

You laughed and nudged his side. “Come on, you can help me make cookies.”

Dumbfounded, he raised a brow. “I thought I wasn’t allowed in your kitchen.”

“Consider it a trial period. Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do right now.”

(He didn’t have the heart to tell you he had a whole report due by the next day that he hadn’t even started yet. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make if it meant more time with you.)

[hey, do u have a cat tree yet?]

[this is vernon btw]

[i’ll take ur silence as a no]

You didn’t get around to answering his messages before he appeared at your door once again, this time carrying a giant IKEA bag on his shoulder. His trusty (but clearly not very loyal) companion Rocket stood at his feet also and greeted you with a meow, which Vernon was quick to mimic with a smile.

“Hello, you two,” you greeted with a laugh. “What’s with the IKEA bag?”

“Child support,” he told you simply and walked inside like he owned the place. He placed the giant bag in your kitchen and turned to smile at you brightly, proud of his work. When you only offered him a quizzical smile, he explained, “Food. A lot of cat food.”

You continued staring at him, absolutely confused. “But they’re not your kittens?”

He gestured towards Rocket who had jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs, patiently waiting for her treats. “Well, she seems to disagree, so here: at least a month’s worth of cat food.”

“I’m guessing you don’t accept returns?” He shook his head no. “Money?” He shook his head again, more aggressively, and you sighed. “Thank you, then. I’ll be sure to put the food to good use.”

“Good, because I’d honestly be a little upset if you didn’t,” he confessed before walking back out of your apartment, leaving the door open.

You looked after him in wonder before turning to Rocket. “Should I be worried?”

Before the cat could give you a conclusive answer aside from a tired blink, you heard a grunt in your hallway.

When you went to look, you found Vernon carrying an enormous cardboard box your way. He placed it down with a tired gasp and gave it an affectionate pat. “Your cat tree, Your Highness.”

“You–” Your jaw dropped. Not a single thought in sight; only a laugh of disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” He smirked. “You didn’t get my messages?”

“Oh, I got your messages,” you argued, “but I didn’t think you meant this. Where did you even get this thing? It looks like it’s going to be huge.”

He shrugged. “I have a friend.”

“A friend who gives out free giant cat trees?” you wondered.

He nodded somewhat hesitantly, his eyes narrowed in thought. “He does that sometimes, yeah. So,” he gave the box another pat, “shall we assemble it?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you mumbled and opened the box, already eyeing the pieces of furniture in horror. “Please tell me you’ll help put this together?”

He scoffed. “You don’t trust me in the kitchen and I don’t trust you with a screwdriver. So, yeah, I’m gonna stick around and build this for you.”

Just ten minutes later, all of the pieces of the cat tree were out of the box and waiting on your floor. The box itself had already been turned onto its side and occupied by a quartet of fluffy cats, only their eyes shining out of the darkness as they scrutinised Vernon slowly assembling their new home.

“So,” you started, while (much like your cats) watching him in fascination, “what’s the real reason?”

He glanced up, eyes wide. “For what?”

You gestured vaguely.

“I’m just trying to be nice,” he shrugged and turned back to his task.

“No one’s just this nice.”

“Maybe I am,” he mumbled.

“Vernon,” you tried again, reaching over to place your hand on his own, effectively pausing his movements, “why did you get me a cat tree? There’s no way you got this giant thing for free either, so the least you could do is at least tell me the truth.”

"I just–" Shoulders slumping, he took a deep breath before confessing, “Hearing you talk about how Wonwoo and Jihoon helped you bring the cats home and kitten-proof the bedroom and how they named the kittens– I just want to help too.” He frowned and sighed. “I just want you to be able to gush about me the way you talked about Wonwoo and Jihoon. Is that weird?” He grimaced before you could say anything. “Yeah, it’s weird. Very weird. But… I don’t know. That’s just how I feel.”

He forced a smile onto his face and finally looked you in the eyes. “Let me put it this way: I want to be an active part of your life and of this journey of yours. So, please, just… Just let me do this.”

Without another word, he turned back to his project. As if he hadn’t just spoken words that would leave you speechless for hours. But despite not finding anything to say to him, a squeeze to his hand still resting under yours had to be enough until you could give him the world.

Just like you, he barely said another word until he left the apartment, leaving behind a finished black cat tree. You wouldn’t hear from him again for days.

Vernon knew alcohol didn’t fix problems: it didn’t make anything disappear, it didn’t make anyone less upset, and it certainly wouldn’t magically give him the confidence to confess. But that knowledge didn’t stop him from going over to Chan’s apartment for a Friday night drink after three days of acting like you didn’t exist.

It’s not like he wanted to ignore you – really, he wanted to do anything but that. He watched enviously as Rocket slipped out of the door and down the stairs, headed straight for your apartment. He watched from afar as the black cat scratched at your door and meowed insistently before you opened the door and happily greeted her. He watched as you glanced around after, as if hoping to get a glance at him who had hidden behind the corner, afraid that he’d say something stupid if your eyes did meet.

He tried to tell himself that perhaps the silence that had followed his kind-of-sort-of confession three days ago hadn’t been one of disgust but rather of endearment. He didn’t dare to hope though. It was easier to just act like none of it happened.

After all, how embarrassing is it to buy a girl a cat tree and assemble it out of jealousy for your neighbours?

So, he drank. Shot after shot. Enough so that Chan and Seungkwan worriedly wrapped him in his jacket and gently led him back up the stairs. He vaguely remembered the latter sweetly reminding him that his apartment is on the 6th floor; not that he’d ever make it there.

Instead, to his own surprise (and the chagrin of his formerly sober self), he found himself standing in front of the door of 5D.

Without even acknowledging his actions, he raised his hand to knock on the door. Following a rhythm like always – just so you’d know it was him and not a stranger – he kept knocking until he heard your footsteps on the other side of the wall.

You opened the door and he blinked. Why was he here again?

“Vern?” you wondered, yawning. You glanced back at the clock on your living room wall before turning to him. “It’s like 2 am. What’s up?”

He wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. His eyes were fully focused on your lips, so pouty and so, so soft. He suddenly remembered what had brought him to your door.

Growing worried as his silence, you waved a hand in front of his eyes to catch his attention. “Hey, did something hap–?”

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned forward. Perhaps alcohol had, in fact, given him the courage he needed because he didn’t hesitate this time. He just leaned forward. It was so easy: one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, the other lifting to hold your cheek as he pressed his lips against yours just like he’d imagined for so many weeks now.

It was as if the touch of your lips alone sobered him up and he leaned back almost immediately, eyes wide in panic. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

But you weren’t mad – a little annoyed, perhaps, but mad at him? You didn’t have it in you to do that. You only laughed a little as he rambled apologies, his hands still in position because he wasn’t yet sober enough to realise, and then you took the leap.

You lifted a hand to grab the material of his shirt just below the collar and pulled him back towards you, all the way until his lips were against yours again. He melted into your affection, only pulling you closer as each second passed, unwilling to let this moment end.

When you finally pulled back, he was wearing a dopey smile, his half-lidded eyes sparkling with joy. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Mad at you?” you wondered and scoffed out a laugh. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I’m a dumb jealous–” He cut himself off mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as something behind you caught his attention. “Is that Rocket?”

You followed his line of sight before humming in confirmation. “Yeah, I thought you let her out in the evening.”

“I never–” he began to argue before pausing. “Oh, I did. I did let her out. I watched you let her in. Oh.”

You stared at him. “On a scale from one to ten, how drunk are you right now?”

He frowned before whining. “I’m not drunk!”

“Vernon,” you said sternly, watching him in amusement as his frown softened into a tired pout and he nodded before confessing that he’d probably had a shot or two too many. You chuckled. “Do you want to stay over?

“I don’t want to intrude…”

“You woke me up at 2 am to kiss me dumb,” you reminded him, “I think we’re past the whole intruding debate. So, yes or no?”

He didn’t say another word, instead opting to lean closer to rest his head against your shoulder and hold you tight. You took that as the answer and led him inside.

For the first time in heavens-know-how-long, it’s the smell of waffles that wakes him up instead of Junhui’s shower singing. To his mild confusion, Vernon realises he’s woken up in your bed. Then, after a quick attempt of taming his bed hair, he stumbles out of your bedroom and over to the kitchen.

“Welcome back to life, Sunshine,” you joked at the sight of him as he slumped in your kitchen chair. The clock on the wall read 1:25 pm.

“Did I–” He frowned in confusion. “Did I sleep over?”

“You also got drunk, woke me up at 2 am, and kissed me,” you informed him with a teasing smile. His face flushed red immediately and he let out a whine before hiding his face in his hands.

It was a whole minute later that he dared to finally look at you again. “I’m sorry… Do you hate me?”

“Nope,” you said and placed a plate full of waffles in front of him before placing your finger under his chin and tilting it to affectionately kiss his lips. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact and memories of the previous night flooded his brain: the shared kisses, the hushed promises of real confessions, cuddles in your bed with Rocket and Mango trying to separate the two of you in a selfish pursuit of extra warmth.

When he opened his eyes again, stars seemed to be swimming in them as you confessed, “I quite like you actually.”

“I… I like you too,” he whispered back a fondly kept secret. “I’ve liked you since you first moved in – when you smiled at me because I helped Joshua carry your sofa up.”

It was your turn to feel a flustered burn on your cheeks.

The two of you spoke no more, basking in the blissful moment of acknowledgement, trying to wrap your heads around the implications of it all as you ate brunch together, side by side.

Rocket soon joined the two of you, yawning as she jumped onto her owner’s lap before looking at you with a look you knew all too well. You scoffed out a laugh and got up to fill her bowl. “I swear she’s going to eat me poor.”

Vernon chuckled. “You know, I think she’s here more than at home these days.” He smiled fondly at the sight of you petting Rocket’s head. When you finally joined him at the table again, he added, “ It’s like she’s decided she’s yours now.”

You saw the opportunity and took it. “You could be mine too.”

He could only smile and hide his burning cheeks. A laugh bubbled in his chest and before long he burst into joyous giggles: “This is the best morning of my entire life.”

“So, is that a no?” you teased, leaning closer to him. Tempting him.

Vernon was done hesitating. “I’d love to be yours.”

BONUS!

“I’m going to miss them so much,” you whispered, holding Peaches to your chest protectively. The orange kitten, like her brother, had grown big enough to go to a new home.

Vernon could only sigh as he watched you cuddle the kittens. “Baby, you will still have Mango.” An accusatory meow sounded from his side. He quickly added, “And Rocket is here too!”

“But the kittens won’t be,” you whined and pouted at him as if he was the person you’d have to convince to keep them. “It’s not the same.”

Vernon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “They’re going to be living in the same building as us, baby. You can visit them whenever you want.”

“No offence but I’m not climbing all the way to the 6th floor to see Socks,” you argued with a scoff. “I’m not even doing that for you.”

Vernon felt a little flattered at the implication that he was still more important to you than Socks.

“Maybe if you ask Wonwoo and Eunmi nice enough, they’ll bring Socks over for a play date every once in a while.”

But it was as if you hadn't heard him. “And the first floor is so far away too…”

“You can drop by Jihoon’s place any time you come home from work,” Vernon reminded you. “Please. Come on.”

“But–”

“Baby,” he spoke sternly, resting a hand on your shoulder to keep you grounded, “the kittens are going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Mango’s going to be very happy to be freed from the shackles of motherhood – I mean, she’s been practically avoiding them all week.”

“But I’m going to miss them,” you whispered, “and the apartment’s going to feel so empty without them.”

“Well, you still have me and Rocket,” he tried to comfort you.

You frowned. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. You only visit.”

“I could… move in… with you and Rocket,” he suggested after a pause of thought. “I mean, we’re here almost all the time anyways.”

Vernon swore his knees felt weak all of a sudden when you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “You’d do that?”

“Is that a serious question?” he joked and patted your head. “Your apartment’s, like, way better than mine. I’d be dumb not to.”

“Oh.” You seemed dejected, on purpose – not that he’d know that.

Eyes widening, he panicked. “I didn’t mean it like that! That was a joke! It was a joke and a very bad joke at that. I just meant that I– Why are you laughing?” He frowned before whining. “Don’t laugh at me!”

#seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen fic #vernon chwe scenarios #vernon scenarios #vernon x reader #vernon chwe

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alargehunkofdebris · 1 year ago

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the necessary anguish of the Good Omens 2 finale

Ah ok. So after 4 years of waiting post Season One and ten cumulative years of bookish fannery, I watched bonified New Content of Good Omens. And when those credits rolled, I sat there, not in my expected state of pleasant satisfaction, but in a state of abject shock.

I actually don’t know if I’ve ever had such a reaction to a show before. Or, rather, that I could still have such a reaction. I’m thirty, for goodness sakes – I was planning on being thrilled and charmed and entertained, not having my hands shake so much that it was hard to type a text. I wasn’t planning on losing an entire night of sleep because my heart wouldn’t stop pounding really hard, Neil. This was not expected. I had an estate sale to run the next day – by God, I needed that sleep.

Anyway. These are my thoughts on the season, and on this upswell of mourning/unhappiness at such a gut-wrenching ending. As always, this are my dumb opinions and nothing more; take with a grain of salt, etc.

I have seen a lot of suffering on Tumblr today. Everyone is in pain, and it makes sense. I, too, am in pain. But I might be in the minority, because I thanked God/Mr. Gaiman when things turned to pure pain in the end. Because narratively, despite the anguish we all feel, this is how it needs to be. And I was getting real worried there for a second.

When we have a mini-series (ie, a show with a set number of seasons) it can’t act the same as a series without a set end. We’ve got three potential seasons; therefore, they logically should behave like a three-act play, or the three acts in the standard Western movie/book plot. This middle season is the middle act, the second act. While it definitely doesn’t work exactly the same way, and needs its own story arc to work as a season, it is still functionally the middle part of one overarching plot.

And what usually happens near the end of the second act? All Is Lost, and the Dark Night of the Soul.

We NEED this to happen. This is what makes a plot delicious. If we’d had this perfect, lovely, romantic season where the stakes aren’t raised one bit and everything is fixed at the end, we would want for nothing and the gorgeous tension that keeps us waiting and watching would be lost. We wouldn’t feel that drive to create fanfics and fanart, we wouldn’t have the need to speculate or dream, because most of the tension was eased, and you just can’t have that if you want a highly anticipated third season. We’d have nothing huge and concrete to look forward to.

In fact, I was getting really worried once the Ineffable Bureaucracy started happening on screen, because I could see (I thought) past that bend in the road toward the end. I could see how this season might conclude, with big happy confessions of love and hugs and handholding (that’s all I expected, because I only expected the same chaste level of affection with both angelic/demonic couples) and then…then it’d all be over. What more could there be? I mean, there certainly could be more, but THIS is the main thing people waited for. The Happy Confession. The hug. The handholding. Whatever we got. And in my mind, having it now, at the end of season two, just wasn’t adding up – it did not fit. It couldn’t. No, we can’t have this now. It doesn’t work.

I get this peculiar thing that happens when things start getting too “everything is great!” in a story. I get the “someone needs to die” instinct. Instead of pure happiness that things are going great, there’s this feeling of intense discomfort, because I feel the weight of the shoe that’s failing to drop. I need it to drop, or else it throws off my entire standard-Western-narrative-trained brain’s balance. In the build up to The Scene, when things seem to be going swimmingly and heading directly towards the happiest and syrupiest of endings, I had to pause and pace my living room and roll around on the floor to alleviate the sheer build up of stress. Things can’t go this well. They can’t. There hasn’t been enough bad things, this is too sweet, too much. Can’t handle it. This can’t just be pure wish-fulfillment at this point; Good Omens shouldn’t work that way, it never has. We’d be happy in the moment, but then it’ll ultimately be a let down. No more danger. Nothing keeping them apart. No more tension, no more story. It was all too easy.

And then, finally, that shoe dropped. After a season of mainly getting along and being just thrilled with each other, they began to really argue. Things got horrific and serious, and I literally let out a breath of relief. I was able to watch without pausing every two minutes for a breather. Ok. Things weren’t over. This wasn’t the end. We had more to wait for.

And then it went on. The confession started, but in that gorgeously wrong way. And for the first time that season, I was actually feeling the stress of the story. Yes, there was danger throughout this season, but it was always layered with humour and wit. You didn’t get a demon scene without them doing something hilariously stupid. You didn’t get an angel scene without them being delightfully out-of-touch. The stakes were high, but they weren’t allowed to get EXTREMELY high. We never thought there was any question of them getting out of scrapes unscathed, because it was never all serious.

Never…until now. There was zero humour at this point. After 6 episodes of being pleasantly delighted, I was feeling the dread. However, I still thought I knew where it was going.

See, I thought I had it figured out. If I had any extra money, I would have bet some of it. I knew that, whilst they’d likely have some kind of subtle confession of love and caring, and perhaps a touch – a hug, or a hand-hold (like Gabe and Beez) – I knew we couldn’t expect a kiss. This is a story thirty-three years in the making, and it’s always been in that grey area. They weren’t humans; they didn’t necessarily show affection that way. Besides that, we’ve had so many TV shows that get close, but rarely ones that go all the way to smoochville. OFMD was one of the very first, but it was new. It wasn’t an old, established story from the 90s like this is. It didn’t have decades-old fans waiting with bated breath for canon content. For Good Omens, we heard it time and time again in interviews; it’s a kind of love story. They had this kind of marriage. They cared for each other. They had a bromance. It’s close, but never quite there. So I thought I knew exactly how this would go, and would be thrilled with what we got.

And then it absolutely didn’t go that way. It went exactly as far as so many hoped. And it went there like a knife to the gut.

And it was perfect.

Goddamn, what a season ending. Despite my lack of appetite and failure to sleep, I could not be happier with what Mr. Gaiman did. I am screaming crying throwing up and I’m thrilled about it.

The middle of a story is typically what drags; it never holds the highest stakes. Lord knows what we’re going to get in season three (knocking on wood), but I can only expect it to get bigger and heavier. And by God and/or Satan, am I prepared, in this deliciously painful purgatory, to wait and see.

#good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens 2 #go2 #gos2 spoilers #gos2 #neil gaiman

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miabebe · 11 months ago

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Where you're convenient (I)

Scenario - Yes it was circumstances that forced these arrangements but why was it that at the breaking point of this relationship, all you want to do is hold on to it?

Pairing - Husband! Joshua × reader

Genre - smut with plot, mild angst in the form of pining, fluff to top it all off in the end haha

Word Count - 6.5K (These are getting ridiculously long now, apologies)

Warnings - Fingering, protected sex, oral (male receiving), cum swallowing

A/n - This was supposed to have all 3 stories but clearly I went overboard with just 1. There other 2 will be released as part 2 (Dk) and 3(Woozi)!

When Joshua brought a girl home tonight, he wasn't expecting you to be there. When their tongues clashed in a frenzy as she clambered into his lap on the couch, he wasn't expecting to hear your soft sobs from the kitchen. And when she began stripping out of her little black dress, he definitely wasn't expecting you to walk out, dressed in just his shirt, with a tub of ice cream in your hand.

The situation concluded with 3 sets of screaming - first was yours in utter surprise, next was the other woman's in anger and the third was his own, in pain. I mean, what else was he expecting the reaction to be when he introduced you as his wife. Of course the other woman went ballistic and threw whatever was in her arms reach straight at him. Thank god the whole ordeal finished in about 15 minutes with minimal damage.

When Joshua turned to you however, your tear stained cheeks were flushed red. As he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, unable to hold it in anymore, you burst out laughing. Even if it was at the expense of his embarrassment, at least you weren't crying anymore and for Joshua, that was a win.

As he picked up the scattered things around the house, he watched the smile slowly fade off your face. Not wanting to see you slip back into your misery, Joshua decided to drag you into his own with a recount of what actually happened today. He was supposed to go on a date, to meet a friend of a friend who had expressed her interest in him for a long time now, despite knowing the unusual arrangement between you two. He had finally decided to put behind his series of meaningless hook ups and give serious dating a shot, so he dressed up, chose a restaurant, set a time and was waiting for her at the bar.

But apparently, though he was willing to leave behind his philandering days, they weren't willing to let him go. Barely minutes after he got there, he was approached by another woman (aka the one who just nearly took his head off) and she began asking him a few questions. Now, maybe Joshua should have answered her briefly sent her on her way, or at least told her the seat next to him was reserved for someone, or at most, removed her hand from his thigh a fraction of a second earlier, so his sweet date of the night would not have walked into the restaurant to see another woman cozying up to him.

And that was the end of his date before it even started - no matter how much he tried, she wouldn't pick his calls or even answer his texts. Giving up on his original plan of the night, Joshua had decided to go home when the lady before him offered just the same - a dinner and a conversation. Honestly, Joshua didn't see the harm - either ways he had to eat and the woman before him seemed capable of a decent discussion.

That was until she decided to let her actions do the talking instead, her foot slowly running up and down his legs, the neckline of her dress somehow slipping lower and lower, and her doe like eyes slowly morphing into sirens. When she excused herself to the bathroom, with a not so subtle follow me gesture, Joshua panicked and pulled her out of the restaurant instead, straight into his car. Cardinal mistake number two - maybe at that point, since it was evident they were headed to his house, he should have told her about you, but there was not a lot much talking he could do, even though it was not his mouth that was busy-

At this point, you covered your ears, loudly refusing to hear any further, as you walked back into the kitchen, missing the amused smile on Joshua's face. He leaned against the entrance, watching you scouring the cupboards for something, his guess was chocolate syrup because you liked pouring it all over your ice cream, especially if it was vanilla. That must mean the pint of strawberry is over because there was no way you'd pick vanilla if the strawberry was right there. Joshua made a mental note to buy another pint the next time he went to the super mart.

As he predicted, he watched you drizzle the chocolate excessively and throw in a bunch of m&ms too. Okay, things were definitely a lot worse than they seemed. When you finally sat, sliding yourself onto the kitchen island, Joshua asked you what you're doing at home. You confessed your date stood you up. You had been talking to this guy for almost a month now and you really did like him - enough to be excited for the date, to buy a new dress, spend hours getting ready, only for him to not turn up to pick you up.

Joshua shook his head annoyed, just as a fat tear dropped down your cheek. You looked so much like the first time he saw you and that was almost a year ago. A year, 3 months and 14 days to be precise, when he found sitting outside the lawyers office, eyes filled with tears, head hung low, sobs echoing in the silence.

Being the gentleman he was, he handed you a packet of tissues and asked if you were okay. You seemed guarded initially, nodding your head at first, then slowly shaking it. You were new to the city - a runaway from home because your family didn't approve of your relationship with your long distance boyfriend. After months of planning, you found a great job here, waited for the perfect moment to escape home, flew across the seven seas only to find your skunk of a boyfriend cheating on you. Now neither could you go back to the home you left behind, nor could you stay in this country without a visa, which you were supposed to acquire after marrying him.

Though Joshua hated his job, he knew that being in human resources and dealing with employment contacts day in and day out, he could perhaps help you get a work visa instead. Maybe if he did you this favour, the universe would do him one too and God knew he badly needed one, so he offered to take you out for lunch, promising to go through your contract and see what he could do. Sadly, as lunch progressed it became more and more evident that there was nothing he or you could do. The clauses clearly stated that the job was only for a long term resident or a citizen since the company was at it's limit to sponsor a work permit.

He watched as your face fell, and you spoke about how much you loved that job and how this was your dream. Sympathising, Joshua told you how he too was so close to losing his dream. He always wanted to quit his pathetic corporate job and start his own business but despite having the most excellent ideas and strategies, he never managed to accumulate the necessary capital.

When his grandfather passed away recently and left him an inheritance, he thought maybe he had finally gotten a way out but apparently there was a roadblock even there. The will clearly stated that he was only eligible to receive his share a whole year after his legal and certified marriage - one last ploy by his grandfather to make sure his only grandson got married and continued the family lineage.

Laughing, you noted it was funny how on a random Tuesday, two people who desperately needed to be married ended up meeting over a pair of tissues and a lunch, like the universe had played a brilliant cosmic joke.

No sooner than the words had been spoken, the both of you shared a very obvious look of realisation. This wasn't a joke, it was a solution, right there, clear as day.

It took about 5 minutes of silence, 50 different emotions and 500 various possibilities running in both heads before Joshua finally spoke up, leading to the fastest known proposal in the history of mankind. And surprisingly, and thankfully, an even faster acceptance. Joshua wasn't sure why you trusted him enough to say yes or even why he trusted you enough to ask but I guess that's just how desperation works.

Within a week, standing outside a courthouse, the two of you got married and by that evening you were moving into his house. While you needed to be married for just a few weeks to get through all the visa formalities, Joshua needed you to be his wife for a whole year so you asked for something else in exchange - to be his roommate, free of rent, for as long as he needed you to be married to him. Though Joshua thoroughly hated the idea of sharing his space with someone, a stranger moreover, he agreed if it meant he could get his hands on that money.

Living with you wasn't really that hard. You were at work for much longer hours than him and even if you were at home, you mostly kept to your room. You were neat when you used common spaces, chipped in for groceries and utilities and were agreeable for the most part. Of course there were some habits of yours that did bothered him, like the 500 alarms you kept to wake up every morning, the fact that you never washed your coffee cup and that for some reason, you never put your shoes on the shoe rack.

Eventually, with time, Joshua got used to both your habits and your presence. Though you weren't friends yet, the two of you went from being courteous and polite to being friendly, getting take out together from time to time, watching movies on rainy days when you were stuck in the house together. It was a symbiotic bond - he'd help you out sometimes, picking you up after work on days when it was too late to catch the train and you'd help him out sometimes, accompanying him to his family gatherings to appease his many many nosy relatives.

Joshua liked to think of the specific moment that the both you became friends as the night he came home to you crying. He knew you weren't back with your ex but as much as he disapproved of it, you had been meeting him frequently. He watched you, over the last many months, some days happy as a lark, and on some whisking away a tub of ice cream into your room followed by the sounds of sobbing. Joshua wanted to tell you to break out of this unhealthy cycle but it wasn't really his place to say anything so he did all he could from the sidelines - making sure you ate on time, that you had enough coffee after your sleepless nights (in a clean, washed cup) and that you were not always wallowing away in your sorrows.

That night when Joshua saw you sitting in crying on the couch, he thought something was wrong but it turned out, for the first time, everything went right. You had finally ended things - you had finally removed that horrible man from your life and had decided to move on. As the two of you sat and brutally cut up a the pictures of your ex together, somehow a friendship was born.

After that, things were awfully comfortable in the house. Not like they weren't before but it was different now. The two of you regularly cooked together, hit the arcades on the weekends, went shopping - just started spending time not out of need or obligation but simply because you enjoyed each others company. Not only were you a source of comfort for him, Joshua began seeing you as in inspiration - the zeal with which you worked for your dream, the way you always managed to pick up the pieces and move on, Joshua was in awe of it all.

Even though it had been years, Joshua hadn't managed to move on. He hadn't managed to heal from his college girlfriend cheating on him with his best friend and instead resorted to the life of a loner who seeked occasional hookups, nothing lasting, nothing meaningful. Until you changed his mind. You told him although you were cheated on too, love was the most beautiful feeling you had ever experienced and one had to be truly lucky to find that. You assured him he was a great guy and that there was a woman out there who would see that and that he shouldn't close himself to the possibility.

It took a while to convince himself but eventually, Joshua decided to put himself out there. No, not because you had begun talking to other men on dating sites. Also not because he hated that you would grab dinners with other people instead of making them at home with him. And definitely not because after tomorrow, you'd be gone - the two of you would finally be divorced.

Joshua looked at you perched on the island top, wiping away your tears. Funny how he always found you crying like this whenever your lives were about to take a drastic turn. He sighed, walking up to you, wiping away ice cream at the corner of your mouth with his thumb and thoughtlessly slipping it into his own mouth as he turned to the fridge to grab a pint for himself. You gripped your spoon a little harder than you intended to as you glanced at his back, looking away only when he turned to you.

Sure, over the year, you had gotten used to such acts of his - holding your waist as he moved you out of his way, tucking your hair behind your ear when your hands were busy washing dishes, grabbing the glasses on the shelf above from behind you, his chest pressed into your back. He'd just do all this and move on, normally, like nothing happened, like your heart wasn't racing in its cage.

Joshua sat across you on the kitchen counter, leaning against the wall behind, stuffing his own face with a large spoon of the ice cream. You tried to brush away your thoughts and tears and continue eating but you couldn’t. You couldn't take away that one thought that had been plaguing you all day - that all of this was coming to an end soon.

You lied when you said your date had stood you up today. After you had dressed up, waited for a whole hour and then called your date to leave him a terrible message with a whole lot of profanity, he reminded you that your date was in fact scheduled 2 days later. As usual, you couldn't get one thing right. Of course you messed up, of course you were a klutz, you always were one but this time was different. This time, somehow you were more distracted than usual, mind all over the place. Perhaps because you knew what was coming tomorrow. Perhaps because you didn't want tomorrow to come.

You stared at the calendar on the fridge, at the red circle around tomorrow's date sitting like a dark reminder that time waited for no one. Tomorrow would come no matter how much you wish it didn't. No matter how many tears unwillingly rolled down your cheeks and how many tubs of dessert you emptied or how much you wished you could hold onto this moment forever.

Joshua who was ranting off about how it was all your dates fault, that you had no reason to cry and that there was someone better out there, him, faltered when he saw what your eyes are fixed on. He felt a pang in his chest, right where his heart sat.

He cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to him, asking if you'd contacted any movers to shift your things - you were leaving by the end of this week to live with a bunch of girl friends you'd made at work. You smacked your forehead, forgetting yet again to do just that despite setting a whole bunch of reminders over the week. Joshua laughed and offered to call them for you instead, but you shook your head. You couldn't depend on him anymore, you needed to learn to live without him.

He admitted that he was so used to you, it was going to be hard for him to live without you too - how was he ever going to find a housemate as good as you? You agreed that he couldn't, you were the best fit for him. He laughed, claiming you needed him as a housemate more than he needed you, who else would wash your coffee cup every morning? You stared at him for a bit before nodding, agreeing. How could you possibly find someone as good as him?

It was like history was repeating once more, the two of you looking at each other with the evidently the same thought running your minds, unsure who should voice it first.

After a long time, yet again Joshua took the lead, asking what you thought about continuing to live here. He did still need a roommate to share rent (he did not) and it would be a hassle for you to move so many things and besides, his house was closer to your workplace. You admitted that if he was okay with it, you didn't mind, you hated dealing with packing and moving anyways. The brightest smile Joshua gave you in response confirmed that you made the right decision, despite the other concerns were brewing at the back of your mind.

You then asked him what this meant for both of you and this marriage. He shrugged saying he didn't think it would make a big difference if the divorce happened or not - after all what was marriage but getting a roommate for a lifetime. You wanted to tell him that its a lot more than that but chose to be content with developments so far. At least for now, you still had him by your side. You could think about the future later.

Silence, one that was heavy with thoughts and emotions, took over again, before Joshua decided to lighten things up.

"We should renew our vows."

"You wanna get remarried??"

"No, I mean we should base this new beginning on a new set of promises. Like..... you could promise to buy a bigger shoe stand for the house and I don't know, maybe finally start putting all your shoes on it?"

"Oh really? Then I guess you could promise to stop lying down on the couch cushions and flattening them?"

"What? I don't- Fine, then you can promise to start putting 2 alarms instead of 20?"

"......"

"I can hear it all the way till my room."

"Why didn't you ever tell me you idiot?"

"Just... didn't want to be someone who keeps complaining."

"Maybe you should promise me you'll start discussing things that bother you with me more."

"Then promise me that you'll never again let me come home to you crying and eating on the couch whose cushions I promise not to flatten."

"Alright, then promise me you'll let me pay rent now."

"Okay, that no, absolutely not. You don't have to-"

"Hey these are my vows-"

"Then I promise to never let you pay rent-"

"Shua-"

"Nope."

"But I can't just stay here without-"

"This remarriage is over."

"Shua please-"

"By the powers vested in me by ordained at home dot com-"

"By what?-"

"-I once again pronounce us husband and wife."

"Okay fine but-"

"I may now kiss my bride."

You didn't even realise when he had slid off the counter, walked up and slotted himself between your dangling legs, hands pressed onto the granite on either side of you. He looked at you, matching your equally amused expression, lips curling into a soft smile.

Many days later he swore he wasn't actually going to kiss and you were the one who kissed him first while you adamantly insisted he iniated it, he was the one who leaned in. Either ways, the fact remained the same - you kissed. Yes you were both basically laughing against each others mouths and both tongues ans all four hands were polite, but it was a kiss nevertheless, stirring something that you didn't even know existed between the two of you.

You pulled back, letting your eyes roam over his features, as his eyes drifted back to your lips, like a moth to a flame. Running your finger along your bottom lip, he stared at it, wondering why the taste of vanilla and your strawberry chapstick was so strangely addictive. When he met your eyes again it was like every nerve ending on your body had been lit on fire and his touch was the only thing that could calm it down.

This time, neither of you were really sure who went for it first but once again, his mouth was on yours, a lot longer, a lot more desperate. When his hands ran up your thighs and pulled you closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, you practically moaned into his mouth, making his lips curl into a satisfied smile. That was all he needed.

"Y/n....." He moved down to your jaw then your neck, groaning as your legs tightened around him, pressing his length against you. "I'm trying to be a gentleman, I want to be a gentleman but you're making it really hard."

Running your fingers into his hair, you pulled him off you, catching your breath. "And what I want is you..." His eyes flashed the same desperation as yours. Fuck it. It was now or never. "What I want is you in me. Gentle or not, I don't care-"

Before you were even done he's unbuttoning his shirt you've donned, beyond pleased that you're not wearing a bra, his ministrations continuing on your neck making you choke on your words.

"Wait, Shua, here?" You stuttered as his fingers grazed over the swell of your breast, mouth close behind.

"My kitchen, my wife. Who's to stop me?" His fingers ran down and along the seam of your underwear, taking an unecesary step away from you. "Do you want me to stop?"

Grabbing a fist full of fabric under his collar you shook your head. "Don't you dare."

And from there there was truly no stopping. In a flash he had stripped you of your panties and you had unbuttoned his pants, making him quickly step out of it, kicking it away. With his hands wrapped around your thighs, once again, he pulled you towards him.

"Here's what we're gonna do." His mouth littered kisses along your jaw. "I'm gonna prep you real quick and fuck you first. Then I'll take you to my room and treat you right. Is that okay?"

God you didn't know he had a mouth like this on him. It made you clench with desire as you nodded hurriedly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Joshua smiled at your desperation as he slipped his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. Having been untouched for so long, just his touch sent electricity jolting through your body making you moan into his mouth as he captured it in a kiss, sighing at how it felt like music to his ears. Fucking hell, you were going to be the end of him.

He let his fingers graze down between your folds groaning at how easily they slipped between your wetness.

"All for me?" You nodded again, bringing a hand down to circle around his wrist, compelling him to move faster. "Patience sweetheart, I'll give you what you want."

And with that he easily slipped a finger into you, pumping it slow at first, before slipping another one, groaning at how tight you were. You fell forward, burying your face into the curvature of his neck, pointlessly hiding how desperate you were for him. But Joshua knew - he could feel your arousal drip down his hand as he moved his fingers, scissoring you open.

"Faster." You raised your head and whispered, sending delightful chills down his spine. "Hurry up and fuck me Shua."

"I will, I'm sorry sweetheart." He cooed back into your ear, "but two won't be enough for you to take me."

You could feel yourself literally drool at his words. You knew he was big. Perhaps he didn't realise but all those days he walked about commando in those grey sweatpants of his, you had seen the faint outline and understood he was a well endowed man. Now the thought of having that inside you was nearly driving you insane.

"Shua please..." You pleaded as his third finger began working you. "Let me see you."

Joshua nodded, pistoning his fingers a few more times before pulling out, making you clench around a strange emptiness. With a swift motion he pulled down and stepped out of his boxers, smiling slightly at the way your eyes were focused between his legs.

God you wanted that dick inside you. In your mouth, in your hands, in that little hole that was currently throbbing like crazy.

Getting yourself together, you finally managed to peel your eyes from his length and focus on what had to be done next. "Do you have a condom around here? I don't....."

You trailed off watching the very momentary disappointment flashing in his eyes. Joshua knew it was unreasonable to be upset over this yet he couldn't help but sigh when he realised what he envisioned could not come true. Yes Joshua was neat and well organised man but sex was something he preferred messy. The moment he felt how wet you were he knew what he wanted to do - pump you full of his cum, watch it drip down your pretty pink folds as he slowly fucked it back into you with his fingers, till you begged him to come. He really wanted to take his time calculatedly ruining you.

"I'll get on the pill from tomorrow." You continued, unable to decipher what was going on in that pretty head of his. "Then you can fill me up how much ever you want."

It was the promise of this happening another time that finally made Joshua move as he placed a quick kiss on your cheek and jogged out of the kitchen into his room.

In his absence somehow suddenly, the countertop felt a lot colder under you and your brain finally decided to start working. Sure you were attracted to this man and clearly he was into you too, but what did this mean for the both of you? Were you two people casually living and sleeping together or was there something deep and genuine that was worth holding on to? The way he said my wife was still ringing in your ear.....

Joshua walked back to you, waving a silver foil square with a grin on his face. As he stood before you and ripped it open you let your eyes run down his body. He was built so exquisitely and you've craved this man for so long and even though now, he was seconds away from fucking you stupid, you realised that was not enough. You needed more. You needed him entirely.

You stripped your unbuttoned shirt away as Joshua raised an eyebrow at you, rolling on the piece of latex. "I liked seeing you in my shirt-"

Pulling him to you, you captured his mouth in yet another long kiss as your hands on his shoulders pushed his shirt away too. "I don't want anything between us."

Joshua broke away from you, staring at your confused face intently. Your words made that little organ in his chest clench because he truly had no idea what they meant. He had no idea if this was just a result of two poorly executed dates or if you felt anything deeper for him. He knew what he felt though - he didn't want just this night or just nights like this. He wanted you entirely. He wanted to tell the world you were his wife, that you were his and that he was yours. God he was so in love with you.

Grabbing your hips he pulled you off the counter and turned you around, ignoring your little whines.

"But I want to see you."

"You have all night for that sweetheart." He ran his hand down the soft skin of your back, tightly gripping an ass cheek. If he saw your face as he fucked you he was afraid he could never again touch someone who wasn't you. He would never be able to get the way you would look as you come out of his mind. "I'm all yours."

Palms fixed on the cold granite helping you stay up, you looked over your shoulder and kissed your lover fervently. He kissed you back, hand snaking around your waist, slipping to your core, sliding his fingers between your folds again. Feeling your legs shake around his hand he smirked and brought his digits coated in your arousal up to your mouth, feeling you eagerly suck on them as he aligned his tip at your entrance, trying his best to not burying himself deeply into you.

"Do you taste that good sweetheart?" Hand moving to grip your jaw he turns your head, slipping his tongue into your mouth. "Fuck, I have to go down on you tonight. You're delectable."

Whining, you pushed your hips back against him, hoping he'll sink deeper into you, fill you up just right. Maybe because it had been so long since you've been intimate with anyone or maybe because you're finally in the hands of the man you were desperate for, but the moment Joshua gave in and pushed all the way in, you could already feel yourself throbbing around his length.

"You're so big...." You whispered, hands failing to grab anything on the smooth surface. Yes you had realised he was big but you didn’t think his girth would feel like this. "Fuck Shua, you fill me up so nice."

"Yeah?" He smiled against your shoulder, dropping a quick kiss on it as he started slowly moving his hips. "You feel incredible too sweetheart. Fuck, I lo-"

Your eyes widened as Joshua came to a complete halt, the grip of his hands on your hips loosening. You couldn't see but he was looking at you with a mix of confusion, desperation, fear and love that would have made you say those three words to him in an instant. You'll tell him. When the times right you'll tell him. But right now, you needed him to continue.

"Shua please." You brought your hand down to your clit, drawing furious circles. "Please move, please-"

And your begging turned into moans when he gave you just what you wanted, pulling back entirely before pushing all the way in, picking up the pace.

"So beautiful," He muttered, fingers surely leaving bruises on your hips. "You're so beautiful sweetheart. You feel like heaven."

"You- fuck." You couldn't possibly make a cohesive sentence with the way he felt inside you. "Shua I- oh god."

He chuckled against your ear at your inability. "Continue baby, what are you saying?"

"That....shit." You faltered as he purposely hit that exact spot with his tip again and again. "You... I..."

"My name sweetheart, that's all you need to say."

And that's all you gave him, mumbling his name over and over again as he removed your hand working on your clit and replaced it with his own. In an instant you felt yourself come around him, letting out what Joshua thought was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Oh he could make you come just around his dick at least another two times tonight - he was no where close to finishing.

As he let you come down from your high, his hand played with your breasts, only giving you slow languid strokes, ready to get rougher whenever you were.

"I need a minute." You muttered. "It's been a while, I'm sensitive and my legs hurt...I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Joshua slowly pulled himself out and wrapped his arms around tightly, pulling you against his chest. You could feel his racing heart behind you as he peppered small kisses along your shoulder, keeping you encircled in his arms. As much as his embrace felt like heaven, his hard length against your ass felt like yet another invitation to sin.

"Do you have more condoms?"

"Yeah." Joshua's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "In the drawer of my nightstand."

"Good." You smiled, turning to him, placing a kiss on his lips. "You'll need them."

Watching you push him back and sinking down to your knees was probably the hottest thing Joshua had ever seen in his life.

Wrong.

Pulling the condom off him, tossing it aside and wrapping your hand around his bare cock was so much better.

He groaned, throwing his head back as you teasingly licked the tip, working your hands on him.

"I'm not going to last much longer like this."

You smiled before taking him fully into your mouth, Joshua's hands on their own running through your hair, making your moan around his length. Sure, like any other guy Joshua did enjoy a good oral session but the way you looked up at him from between his legs might be his most favourite thing about tonight. Especially with that mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Easy sweetheart." He growled as you took him in so far he felt the back of your throat. He didn't want to go as far as fucking your throat tonight - it was supposed to be all about you. Besides, with the way your mouth worked, its not like he was going to last long enough anyways.

And sure enough, with a few more bobs of your head and strokes of your hand at the base of his length, he felt himself close.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-"

Nodding, you pulled yourself off him with a pop and opened your mouth and that's all it took for him to finally feel all that build up crash as he stroked himself hard and fast, coating your tongue with his cum.

You watched him struggle to catch his breath as you swallowed his bittersweet release, opening up to show him it was all gone. Joshua ran his thumb along the edges of your mouth wiping away the spit running down the corners.

"What a good girl." Aaaaand you were soaked yet again, core throbbing. "Who knew you had a mouth like this on you."

You grinned. "There's so much you don't know about me."

"Yeah?" He helped you up to your feet, and with an arm under your knees quickly lifted you into his arms. "Then let's find out."

And the kitchen was only left with the echo of your happy laughter as his room got ready to witness the rest of the very, very long night's events.

Joshua barely remembered what exactly happened last night. All that was branded in the frontal lobe of his brain was the image of your face when came over and over again on his fingers and mouth and dick. Your pretty sounds, the way you gripped his hair, the way your nails raked his back - it was all constantly running in his mind since he had woken up.

It had been about half an hour since the sunlight streaming in the room awakened him. Of all the amazing things that went down last night, the sight of your half naked body curled up against his chest in his bed was the most memorable. He had no idea your lips parted like that while you slept or that you frequently whined in your sleep. He wanted to know these small things about you. He wanted to know everything about you but he wondered if you would give him the chance to do that.

Just as he tucked your loose hairs behind your ear, his phone on the night stand began ringing loudly making him curse under his breath. As Joshua turned to pick up the phone, he felt you stir beside him. It was his divorce lawyer.

"Mr. Choi, morning." Joshua sat up rubbing his temples. He didn't even have the chance to talk to you about the future of this relationship and he was already getting a reminder to end it.

"Afternoon, Mr. Hong. Just called to let you know I've got all the paperwork ready."

"Right."

"Make sure you reach on time. Earlier would be better. I'd say at 2."

"Okay."

"Bring all the legal documents regarding your inheritance and finances, we need to talk about alimony and..."

Mr. Choi's words which Joshua had already heard a 1000 times faded away as he felt you slowly stretch awake and clamber into his lap.

Good morning, he mouthed to which you smiled sleepily. God, he wanted this everyday.

You raised an eyebrow in question. Who is it?

Mr. Choi.

"....and I think that's all." Joshua turned his attention to the call again, missing the way your sweet smile faded. "You are getting ready to leave right? It will take you nearly an hour to reach in this traffic..."

Both of you turned and looked at the watch strike 1.

"Yeah we're..." He cleared his throat looking at you, unable to say the words. "We are...."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, recalling the way he was with you last night. Fuck, I lo-

This was love. This had to be love. And if he loved you and you loved him.....

And finally you took the lead this time, pressing your forehead against his, shutting your eyes tight and softly shaking your head.

Never in his life did Joshua feel the sense of relief he did as his heart flipped in his chest and he grinned. You didn't want this. You didn't want this which meant you wanted him.

"We're not coming today Mr. Choi. My wife and I don't want to get divorced."

With that he cut the call and threw his phone aside, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Is that what you want?"

You opened your eyes to see the beautiful man in front of you looking at you like nothing other than you mattered.

"You are what I want."

Joshua captured your mouth in a long, deep kiss, swallowing his words, showing how much he wanted you too. He'll tell you those 3 words some day, when the time is right. And you'll tell him too - what was the hurry when you had your whole life with him ahead of you. Right now, you could show him instead so you pushed him back onto the bed, leaning over him as your hips began grinding against his hardening length. Joshua smiled at you lazily.

"You're insatiable Mrs. Hong."

"Only for you Mr. Hong."

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