#as far as he falls sometimes and as many lines as he crosses he will not cross this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marvelstoriesepic · 18 days ago

Text

Like a Phoenix (epilogue)

Pairing: Mercenary!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Series Summary: An attack on your palace thrusts your only hope for survival into the hands of a mercenary who is forced to protect you, all due to a vow he made many years before. Though, those are circumstances neither of you have chosen.

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: mentions of fire, dead parents, murder, death, ignorance, betrayal, sexism, arranged marriages; classism; feels; tension; suggestive themes; kissing

Author’s Note: Omg we have reached the end to this series. It makes me a little sad but I'm so satisfied I managed to complete this. And hell, I did not expect it to get so long. When I came up with the idea I was planning on making it a one-shot lol. Thank you so much for reading it this far! I hope you enjoy ♡

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Your journey goes on for another three and a half days. You walk through thickets and shadow-dappled glades as before, but time bends strangely now. It feels no longer like the lonely, endless trek it once was.

It does not feel like a road paved with dread and pain. It feels like something else entirely - something softer, warmer. Like the disentangling of the past and the mending of something broken.

Bucky is always close. Not just in the way he was before, walking beside you, always in your eye line - but in the way he feels close. The way his hand brushes against yours as you trek side by side, fingertips grazing, neither of you acknowledging it out loud, but neither of you pulling away. The way his gaze lingers so unashamed, unreadable, yet soft in a way you are not sure he quite realizes.

The nights are no longer cold.

The forest air is crisp and the earth unforgiving, but you haven’t felt cold since the first night you let yourself fall asleep curled against his chest.

His arms drape around you every night like they were made to hold you. He always mutters that he is not supposed to sleep, that he has to keep watch, and you know he has never been the kind of man to rest easily.

But then, minutes later, his breathing slows, deepens, his body molding against yours, his lips pressed into your hair as if the scent of you alone lulls him into slumber.

Sometimes, in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, he mumbles things into your skin - your name, half-formed words, things you wish you could catch before they are lost to the night.

He clings to you and buries himself in you like you are something to be sought out even in the darkness of his dreams. His hand finds the curve of your waist, fingers splay out over your ribs as if grounding himself, and he breathes you in.

He wakes in the mornings with a deep inhale, lips finding your shoulder before his mind even fully registers that he’s awake. And it is soft. It is slow. The kind of gentleness you never imagined a man like himself capable of.

But Bucky Barnes is a man of contradictions.

Just as he kisses you tenderly at dawn, he kisses you with reckless, insatiable hunger in the next breath.

One moment, you are walking beside him, mindlessly following the path, and the next, your back is flush against the bark of a tree, Bucky’s hands bracketing your face, his breath warm against your lips before he takes them in a kiss that leaves no room for air, no room for anything but him.

It’s fierce, consuming, his mouth slanting over yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desire that sets your veins alight.

His hard thigh slots between your legs, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

His hands would dip to your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he devours you, drawing out a sound from deep in your throat that you didn’t even realize you were capable of making.

His breath hot against your lips as he exhales a soft, gravelly curse.

But it never goes further than this.

No matter how heated, no matter how desperate, he always stops.

His hands never stray past the places he’s already touched, never cross the threshold into something that would tip you into the point of no return. Not yet.

He made his promise - to make it good for you, to wait for a better time.

And Bucky Barnes, after all, is a man who keeps his promises.

So he pulls back, even when his chest is heaving, even when his pupils are blown wide with want. Pressing his forehead against yours with a shuddering breath. He only drags his thumb across your swollen lips and smirks at the way you chase after him.

The fire at night is different now, too.

Before, you used to sit in front of it, staring into the flames with an open wound in your chest that you thought would stay hollow and bleeding for the rest of eternity.

Now, you still stare at the fire, but this time with a weight at your back - Bucky sitting behind you, his chest pressed against your spine, his arms wound around you in a tender hold. He rests his chin on your shoulder sometimes and murmurs against your skin - tired yet, sweetheart? - and you shiver at his lips on your neck and shake your head, because how could you ever be tired of this?

The fire crackles and it’s not the only source of warmth anymore. Bucky’s arms tighten. And the hollow place inside your chest is filling slowly, surely, with something meaningful, something fervent.

Something that feels a hell of a lot like him.

There is something different in the air now, too.

You don’t know if it’s the season shifting, the air growing a little warmer, fresher, or if it’s something in you that has changed.

Maybe it’s the way the wind no longer feels like it’s pushing against you but instead lifting you forward. Maybe it’s the way the sky looks a little wider, a little vaster like it belongs to you now.

For years, you lived with the certainty of a future that was never truly yours. A path laid out before you like a straight line - one that led directly to a fate you never wanted.

You were raised to believe that love was not yours to seek, that choices were not yours to make, that freedom was not something women like you could have. You would be given away, just as your mother was, just as so many others before you were. A transaction. A signature on a parchment, your body and soul the fine print of a deal you didn’t want. A deal between men who had never once asked what you wanted. Never cared about it.

Only to be a prize for a man who had done nothing to earn you but exist in the right family, with the right title, with the right wealth to buy your hand.

You tried to convince yourself that it was inevitable. That maybe you could learn to accept it.

But that never happened.

And when Lord Ward spoke these ugly words about marriage something inside you rose like a beast with bared teeth.

Never had you wanted to end up with the life of a wife to a man who would never know you. Who would never see you.

Would never kiss you like Bucky does - like he’s breathing you in, like he’s savoring something rare, something he will never find again.

Would never hold you like Bucky does - tight, protective, almost desperate, almost possessive. Terrified the world might steal you away from him.

Would never look at you like Bucky does - like you are something untamed, something wild, something so far from the obedient, well-mannered woman you were raised to be. But he relishes it. He does not try to fill that flame. He lets you burn.

And now, here you are.

Not in a castle or a palace, not in a cage refined by luxury, not dressed in stiff silks, not standing in front of an altar beside a man whose hands would never be gentle, whose eyes would never soften when he looked at you.

No, you are out in the wild, the scent of pine and earth and Bucky thick in your lungs, with tangled hair, dirt on your dress, and under your fingernails.

And you have never been lighter.

When you dreamed of freedom, you always pictured yourself alone.

The idea of escaping had always been something singular, something you would carve out with your own two hands, even if it left them bloodied and bruised. Never had you imagined that freedom might come with someone beside you. That it might come in the shape of a man whose past is war-torn, whose hands are rough with calluses and sins but who holds you like you are something sacred.

You don’t know what to call this. You don’t know if there is a name for the way his lips trace over the back of your neck in the early hours of the morning, for the way his voice goes warm and husky when he mutters your name. For the way he watches you - really watches you - like he is memorizing the way you move, the way you breathe.

You don’t know what to call the way he lets you take up space.

Lets you question him, tease him, push at the edges of his patience. Lets you be difficult and vulnerable and does not try to shape you into something easier to control.

There are no words big enough for it yet, no name that fits neatly into your mouth.

But whatever it is, you know you don’t want it to end.

Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.

Bucky makes everything feel more.

The silence of the woods isn’t lonely with him there. The fire isn’t just warmth, it’s a place where you rest, where you curl into him and breathe in the scent of leather and steel and him until you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

The simplest things are different now.

The air tastes sweeter, the wind feels wilder. Your chest feels lighter.

Your food tastes better, even if it’s nothing but charred meat and stolen apples because Bucky makes you laugh between bites. When he makes some dry, wicked comment that should not make your stomach jumble the way it does but you never put in much effort to stop it.

The night feels less like a thing to be wary of and more like a shroud that envelopes the two of you, keeping you hidden in a world of your own.

Your body feels different.

Because of the way he looks at you, the way his fingers graze your skin absentmindedly when he’s half-asleep, seeking you out even in his dreams.

Because of the way your blood sings when he pulls you into an unexpected kiss, when he presses you against a tree, or the ground and growls something against your lips that makes your knees weak.

Because of the way you feel in your own skin now - like it belongs to you, like your choices are finally your own.

And that’s what this is.

Choice.

For the first time in your life, no one is making it for you.

Not your father, not even your loving mother, not some nobleman with a name older than the stones of his estate, not an entire court that speaks of duty while drinking their wine.

You chose this.

You chose to run.

You chose to fight.

And now you are choosing him.

It is the thrill of being wanted - not as a bride, not as a duty, not as a treaty, but as a woman. As a person.

It is the way Bucky does not possess you - but he holds you like you are something worth keeping.

And you think, perhaps you might believe you are.

****

“Bucky!”

Two gleeful voices, high-pitched and brimming with joy, call his name in unison, and before you even register what is happening, two boys come hurtling toward the man beside you like arrows loosed from a bow.

Bucky barely has a moment to brace himself before they collide with him, small arms wrapping around his torso with so much force that he stumbles back a step.

A surprised chuckle rumbles from his chest as he catches them, his hands ruffling through unruly heads, squeezing them against him in a hug.

You don’t move.

You stay where you are, frozen, watching as something in Bucky softens. He crouches slightly, to be more level with the boys, shaking his head with mock exasperation, but his face is split in a smile that might just blind you.

“You’re back!” one of them exclaims, clinging to him.

“We missed you,” the smaller one adds, eyes wide and earnest.

“Steve said it could take longer and that we have to be patient, but we knew you’d come back soon,” the first one says, so proud of himself, his words spilling over each other in his excitement.

Your stomach tumbles - not unpleasantly, but in that strange, fluttering way that comes with being overwhelmed.

You knew Bucky had friends, knew that wherever he was taking you, you would not be walking into a place full of strangers to him.

But this is something else.

Because they love him.

And they are not the kind of people you imagined Bucky Barnes might surround himself with. These children adore him, are safe with him, and throw themselves into his arms without hesitation.

Your throat closes up as you shift, not knowing what to do with yourself.

Your nerves had not touched you this morning, as you lay in Bucky’s arms. Not when he murmured against your skin, lips pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder, voice slow and sleep-thick.

“Won’t be much longer now, darlin’.”

You hummed.

“Just a few more hours, and we’ll be there.”

You felt his smirk against your neck.

“You nervous?”

You thought about it. The idea of stepping into a new place, meeting new people who knew him, who might not trust you, might not like you. But it was hard to be nervous with the way Bucky was touching you, tracing patterns over your bare arm, kissing your hair, holding you close like there was nowhere else he would rather be.

“Tell me about them,” you whispered, half to distract yourself, half to just hear his voice a little longer before the day truly began.

And he had.

“Steve’s a pain in my ass. Got that whole ‘honor and duty’ thing goin’ for him. Thinks he’s gotta save everyone. Stubborn bastard.”

You had laughed at his crude language and he just kissed you some more, sporting a proud grin.

“Sam’s loud as hell. Talks too much. Thinks he’s funny.” He sighed dramatically, the vibration of it tickling against your ribs.

“Is he?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, and you realized it was almost a laugh.

“Sometimes,” he grunted out gruffly, but there was something fond in it. He placed a deliberate kiss just below your jaw. “But you better not tell him I said that.”

“He’s got a sister. Sara. She’ll probably try to feed you the second she lays her eyes on you. Got a good heart.”

“Noted,” you whispered, fighting a smile.

He brushed his nose against the curve of your cheek. “Natasha’s a little sharp. She’ll size you up, but don’t let it get to you. It’s just her way. She’s got a good read on people. But I got a feeling she’ll like you.”

He kissed you, slow, savoring the way your lips parted beneath his, the way you let him pull you closer.

“Bruce is quiet. One of the smartest people I know. You’d like him.”

His fingers traced unhurried circles against your waist, his touch warm and possessive without meaning to be.

“Peter,” he sighed. “Kid’s a menace. Talks too fast. Asks too many questions. Has no idea how to shut up.”

You smiled. “But you sound fond of him.”

Bucky groaned dramatically, letting his head softly fall onto your collarbone. “Damn kid grows on you.”

“Wanda’s a little different. Maybe a little odd. She’s got a heart bigger than she knows what to do with. M’ sure you’ll like her.”

He shifted, rolling onto his side so he could study you in the dim morning light.

“Vision’s…” he adds, shaking his head slightly. “Can’t really explain him. But he’s a good man.”

“And Tony’s an ass.”

“That’s it?” you laughed.

“That’s all you need to know.”

You traced the shape of his jaw with your fingertips. He leaned into you, eyes drooping. Your voice grew softer. “But he’s your friend.”

A pause. A sigh. “Yeah, I guess he is,” he admitted grudgingly.

Then you kissed him again and he certainly did not object.

It felt so intimate then, the way he spoke, the way he let you into something personal. His family. You hadn’t been nervous then. Not when he was so warm against you, not when he whispered promises of breakfast and stolen kisses and safe places against your skin.

But now, watching these two children light up at the sight of him, watching Bucky melt and soften, you start to feel the nerves.

The enormity of what you are stepping into.

You are not just entering a place.

You are stepping into his world.

These people are not just his friends. They seem to be his family.

And they seem to live a comfortable life, judging the clustered timber-and-stone houses before you. Slanted roofs are layered with thatch, their wooden beams weathered but sturdy.

A large two-story tavern sits at the heart of the settlement, its balcony draped with drying herbs and bundles of corn.

The earthy scent of bred and corn and ash and tilled soil all mingles in your nose. You breathe it in.

You watch a woman lean out of an open window, shaking dust from a rug.

A great tree stands a little off, roots twisting into the soil like fingers gripping the land, branches stretching, leaves flying in the light breeze. Wooden tables and benches sit unevenly on the dirt ground. A group of men sits hunched over one of those tables, mugs in hand, deep in conversation.

Horses are tied to a hitching post near a small stable, flicking their tails. Chickens peck at the dirt, completely unmoved by their surroundings.

Garlands of wildflowers and wheat hang from beams and doorways.

Nearby, a wooden stall displays golden rounds of bread stacked high, the crusts crips and sun-warmed.

This does, in no way, come close to how you have been raised and lived your whole life. Nothing like the sterile corridors of the palace, where voices were kept soft and every step was measured.

This place is unrefined, full of noise and movement, loud laughter, and unguarded conversations.

It’s the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

“Who are you?”

The sharpness of the question snaps you from your swirling thoughts and drops you harshly into the present.

Your gaze turns down to meet dark and narrowed eyes. The kind of look you would expect from a man twice his age, not a boy of the age of perhaps 10.

There is suspicion in the hard set of his mouth, in the furrow of his brow. His thin shoulders are squared, his stance too defensive for someone so small. Too wary for someone so young.

He is looking at you like he is judging you. Assessing you. Ready to cast you out.

You don’t know what you expected from those little boys who nearly took out Bucky with a hug. Curiosity perhaps, maybe even excitement, because what child is not intrigued by someone new?

But this boy has learned caution young.

Bucky had not mentioned him, nor the other who is still clinging to Bucky’s side and watches with wide, observant eyes. They seem to be brothers.

You inhale and part your lips, ready to offer something - your name, perhaps, or some reassurance that you mean no harm - but Bucky steps in.

“Hey,” he chides, voice carrying a note of authority, but it is still easy. As though he expected this reaction. “C’mon now, AJ,” he says, ruffling dark strands. “That any way to treat a guest? Hm?”

The boy scowls, wriggling his head free of Bucky’s grip and standing a little straighter, eyes still on you.

“I have questions,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest.

You blink.

This boy is so small, and yet so serious, staring you down like you are his enemy.

Bucky sighs dramatically beside you, shaking his head.

“You hear that, darlin?” He turns to you, blue eyes glinting. “Little punk thinks he runs the place.”

You smile amused and tilt your head slightly. “Does he?”

The little guy seems taken aback for a moment, like he hadn’t expected you to address him so directly, hadn’t expected you to engage instead of deflect.

But then he squares his shoulders again.

“I do when Steve isn’t here,” he informs you seriously, sharp eyes on you.

Bucky chuckles.

“So?” the boy presses. “Who are you?”

You take a breath in.

“She’s mine.”

The words, low and firm, come from Bucky.

You turn, startled, but Bucky is not looking at you. He is looking at the boy, at both of them, his expression unreadable. But his jaw is set.

“She’s with me,” he tells them.

But that makes the older boy before you narrow his eyes further.

“You brought her here?” he asks, and there is an accusation in it.

“I did,” Bucky confirms, voice turning a note harder. “And you’re gonna behave, alright?”

“Why?” the boy presses. “You don’t bring people here. Ever.”

That catches your attention. You glance back at Bucky, but he still doesn’t look at you.

He opens his mouth, about to crouch down to his eye level.

“Oh, mother of gods, James Buchanan Barnes, you did not!”

Your head snaps up at the harsh exclamation, dragging your attention to the woman storming toward you. She has fire in her eyes and disbelief clear in every step she takes. The fabric of her dark skirts rustle with the force of her marching steps, her expression caught somewhere between outrage, horror, and exasperation.

Bucky sighs beside you.

The woman sweeps her gaze over you, fast but uncomfortably precise, drinking in the tangled mess of your hair from wind and sleep, the dirt staining the folds of your gown, the frayed laces at your bodice. They hang limply around you.

Heat wanders along your skin, creeping up your neck. Your fingers jerk against your skirts.

You are painfully aware of how you must look. Not a princess. Not the picture of nobility. And it makes you feel exposed.

She then latches her burning eyes on Bucky, who for his part looks painfully unbothered by the way her glare could send him to his grave.

“The princess?” she hisses, incredulous, her voice barely contained. “Are you out of your mind?”

Bucky exhales softly. “Sara-”

“No, no,” she cuts him off, throwing a hand in the air. “Don’t you Sara me, James. What- What in the name of every god above and below were you thinking?” She jabs a finger at him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you have any idea what kind of mess this is?”

You recoil slightly.

Bucky doesn’t.

Sara exhales sharply and fixes her gaze on the two boys. “Aj, Cass,” he says, voice edged with maternal authority. “Inside.”

The younger boy scrambles away, while the older one hesitates. He looks at you. And you watch the realization of who you are dawn like a slow and creeping sunrise. Color drains from his face, only to be replaced by a deep, mortified flush. He hurries off after his brother.

A low whistle sounds out.

“Well damn,” follows a smooth, almost delighted drawl. “You kidnapped the princess? Man, that is a whole new level of crime - even for you.”

Your eyes shift toward the new voice.

A tall man steps up beside Sara, arms crossed over his chest, a wide, amused, and toothy smile on his face.

“You know,” he muses, glancing at you before looking back at Bucky, letting out a chuckle. “I figured you’d eventually get yourself into a mess you couldn’t talk your way out of, but this?” He gestures at you, at all of you. “This is next level, man. This ain’t just thieving a couple of horses or lifting some noble’s coin purse.”

“I didn’t kidnap her,” Bucky growls, exasperated.

“No?” The man lifts a dark eyebrow. “Then what is it I see before me? Huh? Certainly not the missing kingdom’s princess, looking all rugged and dirty, standing next to the only fool dumb enough to waltz into the palace and take her right from under their noses.”

“Sam,” Bucky warns.

Sam ignores him. “God, I can’t believe this. You kidnapped the princess.” His eyes practically dance with amusement. “Really, man?”

“Didn’t kidnap her,” Bucky repeats, tone and eyes dark.

Sam snorts. “Alright, then.” He shifts his attention to you now. You are only able to listen to whatever this is with wide eyes. “Your Highness. Blink twice if you need rescuing.”

You glance over at Bucky helplessly, but he only runs a hand down his face and shakes his head.

You straighten, eyes going back to Sam, composing yourself as best as you can despite the dirt on your skirts, despite the strange, unmoored feeling of being in this place, surrounded by these people.

“Sir, I-”

But Sam interrupts you, keening with laughter.

It’s full-bodied. He throws his head back, shoulders shaking, one hand gripping his ribs as if the sheer force of his amusement might crack them open.

You startle, staring.

“Oh, hell, yeah.” He wheezes through his laughter, eyes gleaming with delight. “D’you hear that, Barnes? Your girl called me sir.”

Bucky glares. It’s nothing short of murderous.

Sam laughs harder, nearly doubling over, slapping his thigh like this is the greatest moment of his life.

Bucky’s hands flex at his sides, fingers curling, and for a second, you wonder if he might actually lunge at the man.

“You wanna keep runnin’ your mouth, Wilson?”Bucky grounds out, voice flat, but there is something dangerous in it.

“I apologize for the trouble, your Highness,” Sara says, voice full of exasperation, though it is not directed at you. Her sharpest ire belongs to Bucky. She shoots him a look so blistering it could peel bark from a tree. But he only rolls his shoulders like a man unbothered. “You’re lucky she doesn’t look half-dead, Barnes.”

Bucky exhales through his nose. “She’s fine, Sara.”

“Fine?” she echoes, eyes flaring. Hands settle on her hips. “Fine is not what I’d call a girl dragged through the wilds, looking like she hasn’t had a proper meal in days.”

You wince, self-conscious.

She notices.

Her gaze softens. “My apologies, your Highness,” she says, sincerely, directed at you this time. “You must be exhausted. Have you eaten? Drunk anything? Lord above, Bucky, did you even let her rest properly?”

Bucky folds his arms over his chest with a huff. “She’s not a child, alright? She’s handled herself just fine.”

Sara glares him down.

You take a step forward before she can start another round of chastising him.

“You do not need to apologize,” you say softly. “I have been taken care of.”

You see Bucky smirk in your peripherals.

Sara pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling long and slow, before turning back to you.

And this time, when she looks at you, there is no suspicion, no frustration.

Now, there is just worry.

Not the worry of someone who sees you as a liability, a mistake, a problem to be solved.

But the aching worry of someone who sees you as a person. As a girl who has run a long, long way from something big.

Shaking her head, she fixes her eyes back on Bucky. But they are softer. Her voice is calmer when she speaks again, but no less chastising. “The princess, Bucky? Of all the reckless, ill-thought-out things you’ve done-”

“Alright-”

“I chose to come with him.”

Bucky falls silent.

You don’t know why Bucky hadn’t explained this himself. That he didn’t force you into anything, or even kidnap you. Perhaps he still can’t believe that you said yes to him. Or he didn’t want to put those words into his mouth because they should be yours.

All eyes turn to you.

Sara’s brows lift slightly in surprise. Sam, who has been watching with a grin of pure entertainment, lets out a low whistle.

But it’s Bucky’s gaze you feel the most.

You sense the shift in him, the way his eyes find you with an intensity that has you clenching your fingers around the fabric of your gown.

“I wasn’t taken. Especially not by him,” you continue, gaze sweeping from Sam to Sara and back again. “I left of my own accord. It was my decision. And Bucky-” You glance at him for a brief moment, before setting your eyes forward again. “-he kept me safe.”

Sara exhales sharply, hands on her hips, lips pressing together in thought. She studies you, weighing your words against whatever she has imagined. You cannot make a lot of her expression, but there is respect in the way she looks at you.

Bucky doesn’t move, but you feel his gaze on you like a touch. Heavy and lingering.

Sara’s hand on her hips tighten. “That may be,” she allows, her voice slow. “But I find it hard to believe you were given many choices to begin with.”

“Sara,” Bucky warns. But his voice is thicker now.

Sam doesn’t relent on his toothy grin and Sara flicks him on the back of the head. “Alright, enough,” she says, then turns to you. “If you’re staying, we need to get you cleaned up and fed.” She eyes your dirt-streaked gown and your disordered hair, her concern slipping back in. “Gods, you must be exhausted.”

You stiffen.

Not at her words, but at the way something deep in your chest trembles in response.

Because, yes you are exhausted.

You have been for as long as you can remember. But never like this. Never in a way that feels earned.

This exhaustion is not the kind that comes from waiting - waiting for a decision to be made for you, waiting for a fate you have no hand in shaping.

It is the exhaustion of moving forward, step by step, of carving a path where there was none before.

It is real.

And for the first time, it does not feel like a burden.

You do not know how to say this. So you say nothing.

“Come inside. Eat something. Get some rest,” Sara offers gently.

Like she has already decided she will take care of you.

You have spent your entire life refusing. It is a habitat ingrained in the very marrow of your being. To be polite, but never imposing. To be gracious, but never in need.

But you are not in a palace now.

You are in a place where people say what they mean, where laughter is loud, where Bucky Barnes holds children to his chest and lets them believe he is something softer than the world has made him.

A place that is not yours, but could be.

You do not refuse.

Because you don’t want to.

Fingers graze the inside of your wrist, a feather-light touch. A question.

And you answer without words, letting your fingers brush his.

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. His jaw unclenches.

You smile up at him. He smiles down at you.

Sam is gaping.

****

You inhale the food as if you have not eaten in days - because, in a way, you haven’t. Not like this. Not like something that tastes like home, like care, like hands that have kneaded and stirred and seasoned with the intent of nourishing, not just sustaining.

The wooden bowl in your hands is warm, the simple stew inside thick and hearty, brimming with root vegetables and tender meat that falls apart on your tongue.

The broth is rich, salted just enough to bring out the depth of the flavors, but not so much that it overpowers the natural earthiness of the ingredients.

At the palace, everything had been delicate. Well-considered. Gilded dishes prepared for their beauty before their taste. Sauces too intricate, wines too aged, plates of food so finely arranged that they resembled paintings rather than meals. Adorned with edible gold and the finest spices from across the kingdom. They had been created for show, for excess, for appearances.

But this is food meant to fill you.

The bread that Sara placed beside your bowl is dense and still warm from the hearth, the crust slightly cracked from the heat, the inside soft as a cloud. You tear a piece away and dip it into the broth, watching as it soaks up and turns heavy in your hand before bringing it to your lips.

The taste spreads warmth through your bones.

There is no grace to your eating, no careful sips or polite nibbles. You do not have to sit straight-backed in an uncomfortable chair, do not have to mind the placement of your hands or the pace of your bites.

You simply eat.

And for the first time in your life, food does not feel like an obligation. It feels like comfort.

You sit at a wooden table. The texture of the wood is uneven beneath your fingertips, worn and etched with knife marks, scratches, faint grooves from elbows propped against it.

This cabin is small, but it breathes.

The walls are made of sturdy logs, darkened from years of firelight and time. The stone hearth is still slightly glowing with embers from where Sara had cooked, projecting shimmering golden light against the walls.

A simple woven rug lays before it, slightly askew, as if someone has kicked it on their way past.

It is nothing like the palace.

The palace had been marble and silk, cold stone and uncomfortably ringing echoes from footsteps. Walls that expanded too high, chandeliers so grand they could never be touched, windows so polished you could see your reflection clearer than you could see yourself. Every corner a testament to wealth, to power, to the careful orchestration of control.

But this is lived in.

This is home, even if it is not yours. Yet.

And you love it.

You love the way the cabin smells of woodsmoke and earth, of herbs hanging to dry, of something baked earlier in the day.

You love the way the chair beneath you creaks slightly when you shift, the way the light is softer here, golden rather than cold.

You love the way your own body feels here.

Because here you are not wearing a gown that feels like a costume, corseted and pinned and stitched into a silhouette.

Here, you are still wild from the road, still warm from Bucky’s touch, still catching your breath from all the ways your life has changed.

Your fingers tighten around the wooden spoon in your grasp, the thought of Bucky bringing something else entirely to the warmth inside you.

He left moments ago.

Not without touching you.

You stood beside the table when he stepped close, when he tilted your chin up with the barest press of his knuckles, his other hand warm at your waist.

“Eat, sweetheart.” His voice has been soft, softer than his usual rasp. “Take your time.”

He kissed you before you could reply.

Not deeply, not claiming or desperate, just so incredibly tender, something that felt like a promise. A press of his lips that lingered, that tasted like all the words he did not say.

His fingers brushed against your jaw so delicately as he pulled back, his breath warm when he whispered. “I’ll talk to the others. You eat somethin’ and get some rest, yeah? I won’t be long.”

And then you were alone.

And what feels like for the first time in your life, no one is watching you.

There are no guards, no courtiers, no looming figures waiting to tell you what you must do next.

You are alone.

And it is wonderful.

A slow breath fills your lungs. You let it out slowly, feeling your shoulders loosen, your limbs grow heavier with something softer than exhaustion.

“You must be starving.”

The voice - deep, smooth, touched with humor - startles you so thoroughly that your spoon slips from your grasp, clinking against the rim of the bowl before settling with a soft plop into what’s left of the broth.

You snap your head up, heart lurching, body still half-wired for a fight that is no longer necessary.

A man stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, framed by the golden light of the setting sun behind him.

He is tall. Not just in height, but in presence. His shoulders are square, built with strength, but there is something calm in the way he carries himself. His blond hair is slightly tousled from the breeze outside and his blue eyes scan you.

His expression is unreadable at first, gaze sweeping over you, taking in the way you hover over your food like it might be taken from you, the way your hands twitch before stilling, the way you study him as though he might be another threat.

He lets out a short, remorseful breath but smiles at you then. Warm. Open. Easy.

“Sorry,” he says, lifting a hand as if to show he means no harm. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself. You take him in for a little while longer.

“It’s okay,” you reassure. “You must be Steve.”

His expression shifts. His brows lift just slightly, eyes glinting with something wry and knowing, but also a kind of surprise. As if it isn’t normal that Bucky talks of him to people who don’t know him already.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you for a beat longer, like he is trying to place something about you.

Then he drops his head a fraction, a smile tugging at his lips. He glances around the cabin like this is a place he knows, a place that has always been home to him.

“Had to see for myself,” he starts, stepping closer, “what kind of thing Bucky’s gotten himself into this time.”

There is no accusation in it. No sharpness. Just a lightness, an understanding - something that makes you feel like this is not the first time he’s had to check in on Bucky’s reckless decisions.

“It was my decision,” you retort before he can go any further. “He did not take me. He did not force me. I chose this.”

You expect surprise. Like the others.

But Steve just nods. As if it makes sense. As if he might already have known that.

He chuckles, the sound low and genuine, before lowering himself into the seat across from you. The chair groans slightly under his weight, and for a moment he just studies you.

Not in the way people at the palace or castle did. Not with judgment, or scrutiny, or expectation.

Just curiosity.

“Bucky’s done some rash things before,” he then muses. “I had to make sure you aren’t one of them.”

It is said without malice. Just a simple, honest statement.

He doesn’t dance around it. Doesn’t pretend he wasn’t concerned. And strangely, that puts you more at ease.

You exhale, your fingers brushing the rim of your bowl.

“I appreciate the concern,” you say carefully. “But I meant it. This is my choice.”

Steve smiles.

Not a small smile. Not an uncertain or fake one. It is true.

“Then I guess that’s all I needed to hear.” He shifts, pushing his hands against the arms of the chair, preparing to stand. “I should let you rest.” He says it with a kind of old-fashioned politeness that reminds you of a man who has spent his whole life minding his manners. “Didn’t mean to intrude on your alone time, your Highness.”

But before he can rise, something in your stirs - curiosity, but something else, too.

“Wait.”

Steve pauses and raises a brow as he looks at you. But he eases back into his seat. Blue eyes flicker with interest.

“What did you mean?” you ask quietly.

Steve tilts his head. “About what?”

You hesitate, but the question is already lodged in your chest, needing release. “You said Bucky has done a few rash things before. What kind of things?”

A short laugh shakes the chest of the blond man. He leans back slightly, shaking his head and resting one ankle over his opposite knee. He crosses his arms over his chest and regards you with a look that is both amused and considering.

“You really wanna know?”

You nod.

His lips quirk and he lets out a slow breath, rolling his jaw, weighing whether he should actually tell you anything. He contemplates for a moment.

“Alright,” he relents. “I suppose I can tell you something.” He leans forward slightly, forearms braced against the edge of the table. His eyes glint with something that seems nostalgic, fond, but at the same time exasperated.

Then, he chuckles, obviously thinking of something. “Let me tell you about the time he stole a nobleman’s prized warhorse because some poor stable boy was about to be flogged over it.”

You blink, eyebrows shooting up, not even noticing that you are leaning in yourself. Watching him intently as he speaks.

“We had been passing through a town. Saw a stable hand, just a boy, barely a teenager being dragged out into the square because the noble, some smug son of a bitch-” he winces. “Pardon my language, your Highness.”

You huff a laugh, shaking your head.

“The noble he worked for claimed the kid had let his prized horse go missing,” Steve continues. “That boy was about to be publicly whipped.”

You frown, heart seizing.

“Buck broke into the nobleman’s stables,” he says with a disbelieving laugh, “stole the very horse they were fighting about, and rode it right through the center of town, causing a distraction long enough for the kid to escape.”

Your lips part.

Steve watches your reaction with a grin.

You don’t think you have ever been this invested in a story as of now.

“Of course, half the town guard ended up chasin’ him for miles,” he continues, amused smile on his face. “His plan, mind you, was to just return the damn horse the next day, all casual like nothing happened. Didn’t wanna keep it, he told me. Just wanted to prove a point.”

Steve’s gaze softens as he watches you take it in.

He leans back again then, palms planted on the table. “Well, the horse did send him flying straight into a pile of mud. So maybe that’s the true reason he wanted it gone.”

A laugh bursts from your lips.

Steve’s eyes are glinting. “Left him sitting there, covered in filth, swearing up and down that it wasn’t his fault.”

You press a hand to your mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Steve seems even a little proud. Satisfied, with the way you are laughing so carefree. He lets a few beats pass.

Your ribs ache pleasantly.

It is rare, this kind of lightness, this kind of ease.

It is especially rare that you let yourself feel it. Let yourself sink into it. Relish it.

Suddenly, a shift in the air tugs at your awareness, a pull, like something in the room has changed shape without a sound.

Slowly, you turn your head toward the doorway.

And there he is.

Bucky leans against the frame, one shoulder pressed casually against the wood, arms crossed over his chest.

Candlelight catches on the lines of his face, casting a glow over the edges of his cheekbones.

He hasn’t said a word, hasn’t made a move to interrupt. He is just watching.

Watching you with something in his eyes that makes the giggles in your throat falter - not because they fades, but because they become something different.

He looks at you like he is seeing something he didn’t know he needed to witness.

Like he is listening to the sound of your joy and tucking it away somewhere safe.

It is in his eyes. This softness, something golden that flickers like a flame caught in the cradle of his chest.

His mouth is curved at the edges, not a smirk, not quite a grin. Just something fond, something private.

Your heartbeat slows into something deeper, warmer. A flush creeps up your neck that has nothing to do with laughter.

He has been standing there, silent and content, just watching you laugh so brightly with his best friend in a place he calls home.

“Bucky.” His name slips from your lips as you shift in your seat. “How long have you been standing there?”

Something shines in his gaze, something unreadable but vast. The space between you seems to hold more than just air.

His lips press together, holding back a chuckle. Pushing off the frame, he ambles toward you. “Long enough to wonder what kinda shit Steve’s tellin’ you ‘bout me.”

You try to suppress a smile, glancing over to the blond man, who only smirks, clearly enjoying this.

“He told me about you falling off a horse.”

Bucky lets out a groan, but his smile never wavers. He steps over to you unhurried, like he is savoring the moment, having all the time in the world.

He drags a hand down his face as he stops beside you, but the exasperation in his sigh is a lie - his smile still does not fully vanish.

His fingers find your shoulder as if drawn there naturally. His touch is light, absentminded. He rubs slow circles with his thumb before trailing down to your arm, his palm coming to rest warmly at the bend of your elbow. It sends something skittering down your spine.

Leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, the look on Steve’s face turns downright knowing.

Tilting his head, Bucky shoots the blond a look that lands somewhere between betrayed and amused.

“Really, punk?” he groans. “Coulda told her anythin’.”

Steve shrugs, unbothered and smirking. “She should know what she’s gotten herself into.”

Bucky scoffs.

Steve then pushes up from his seat, muscles in his arm bulging under his shirt. “I should leave you two to it,” he says but his gaze lingers on Bucky, before briefly switching between you two. His gaze is warm with something satisfied, something knowing, something relieved.

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here, Rogers.”

Steve smirks and turns toward the door, clapping a heavy hand against Bucky’s shoulder in passing. Before he steps out, he throws another look over his shoulder at you.

“It was good meeting you, your Highness,” he says, and though there is respect in his tone, there is something else. Something approving.

You nod, smiling warmly. “And you, sir.”

Steve chuckles. Bucky sighs.

Then he is gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Bucky doesn’t say a word at first.

He only guides you up from your chair, touch warm at your arms, just enough to maneuver himself into the seat. He doesn’t sit a second before pulling you onto his lap with a kind of possessiveness that feels more like safety than restraint.

A hitch disrupts your breathing.

You sit sideways, his arms winding around your waist, drawing you close, settling you comfortably against him.

The moment feels intimate. It’s as if time and space have thickened since Steve left. It’s slower and it sinks into your bones, into the spaces between your ribs, something deeper pressing in. It feels delicate and releases a pleasant tingle along your skin.

Bucky looks at you.

His eyes are softer now, the smirk something half-forgotten in the face of whatever this moment is becoming. So focused, so without teasing. His gaze moves over your face, slow and searching, reading the shape of your expression, as if he is trying to pin down whatever thought lingers in your eyes before you can speak it aloud.

There is almost something like wonder in his eyes as if he is still not used to this - to have you here, in his arms, so close that the space between your breaths barely exists anymore.

You swallow, fingers twitching where they rest against his shoulders.

You feel him in your pulse, in the warmth of your spine where his arms brace you.

Softly, as if not to disturb the air too much, you speak up.

“I like him.”

Bucky’s smirk twitches wider, but it is gentler now. Not sharp. Not cocky. Just fond.

His nose skims along your temple, featherlight, and he exhales warmly against your skin.

He hums, low and gruff but amused like he already knew it before you said it.

He inhales, slow and deep, as if breathing you in, as if you are something he can’t quite get enough of.

“Knew you would.”

And then, so gently, his lips meet your cheek in a kiss. Soft and lingering, and you close your eyes for just a second, letting yourself fall into it. Letting yourself feel him.

You lean into him, the weight of your body pressing more fully into his, and it feels like home.

He hums against you again, pleased, the vibration making you shiver. He feels it.

His voice is lower when he speaks again, his breath warming your skin as he smooths his words there, slow and teasing but full of something truer beneath the surface.

“Still gonna have a word with him, though. Can’t have him fillin’ your head with stories ‘bout me I ain’t got a chance to defend myself against.” Something about the way he says it feels important.

You lift your head, enough to meet his eyes, your fingers tracing absently along the line of his collar, your touch light, thoughtful. The depth in his blues nearly makes you forget what you were about to say.

“I like knowing more,” you basically whisper, only for him.

Bucky’s smirk fades into something quieter, something that makes your stomach churn in a slow and uncomprehending way.

His hands tighten where they test on you, fingers tenderly digging into your waist.

A muscle jumps in his jaw. He is reading you, something in your face that you don’t even know you are giving away.

And Bucky kisses you.

Slow and meaningful.

Like he knows there is no need to rush, that he has all the time in the world. Certain of the fact that he’ll get to do this again. Again and again and again, as often as he wants, as often as you’ll let him.

And you will.

His lips move against yours, coaxing, claiming - but it doesn’t feel claimed. It feels given. Offered. Cherished.

He is taking his time learning you, savoring you, not because he is afraid this might be the last time, but because he knows it won’t be.

He kisses you with a softness that contradicts the strength in his hands, the way they hold you - sure, definite, fingers curling just enough to tell you he’s here, but not so tight that you ever feel caged.

His fingers slide against the fabric of your clothes, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Where you want to be. One of his thumbs brushes slow strokes at your ribs as if he can’t help but touch, as if he needs to keep that connection even as he has his mouth firmly planted on yours.

His tongue sweeps against yours, the heat of it making your stomach tighten, something deep inside you ignite and spread low in your belly.

And then, softly, from deep in his chest, he lets out a groan - so content, so relaxed. Right against your lips, against your skin, shuddering through you like the quietest kind of need. It’s him sinking into this moment just as much as you are. You feel it vibrate through him, through you, pooling somewhere deep and warm and thrilling.

By the time he pulls back, you are lightheaded.

He doesn’t go far. Doesn’t let you go. His forehead meets yours, and it feels like a moment held in stillness. His breath is warm. His lips are swollen.

“You eat enough?” His voice is husky.

You nod. Or maybe you think you do. You’re still dazed, still floating somewhere between his kiss, his scent, and his voice.

“You drink something?” he murmurs next, the concern filling up his tone so seamlessly. His fingers tighten slightly and then start to trace shapes along your back.

Another nod.

His lips curl, just slightly, like he is amused by how wrecked you already look from a single kiss.

“You wanna get some rest?”

He says it so sweetly, so soft and careful, already preparing to gather you into his arms and lay you down himself if you so much as waver.

You blink at him, at the softness in his voice, the way he is still so close, his lips just a breath away.

“Not just yet,” you whisper.

His lips curve fully this time, his breath escaping in a breathy chuckle, warm with affection. Dipping down again, he presses another kiss to your temple. Then, another just behind your ear. And one against your jaw. Unhurried.

You almost forget the question forming on your tongue, almost forget the reason you wanted to ask in the first place.

“What did the others say?” you ask quietly.

Bucky exhales through his nose, thumbs remaining to glide idle patterns over you.

He tilts his head, considering his words. “They had questions,” he answers, tone light, but there is something thoughtful in it. “They just wanna understand.”

His eyes are intense, gauging your reaction.

“They wanna meet you,” he goes on.

You exhale a breath, but it doesn’t seem enough to push some of your lingering nerves from your chest. You swallow hard, and he catches it. He sees the way you shift slightly in his lap, the way your hands tighten where they rest lightly against his chest.

“But I told ‘em they’re gonna have to wait,” he adds, his tone firm now like the matter’s already been settled. “They know what they need to know and you’ll talk to them when you’re ready.” His gaze holds steady. Unblinking and piercing. “Not while you’re still catchin’ your breath.”

A part of you wants to say that you’re fine.

To brush it off, to tell him you can handle a conversation right now, that you’ve been handling things your whole life.

But you don’t say it. Because it’s a lie. And Bucky would know.

You are tired. Your mind is still catching up with the reality of where you are and what you left behind and the unknown of what is ahead. And it is so much, so much more than you ever thought you’d allow yourself to have.

Bucky shifts, leaning in and smoothing his palm down your back in grounding strokes.

“We’ll figure everything out,” he assures you, voice sure, but gentle.

Your pulse picks up.

It’s not a grand declaration. Not a sweeping promise of a happy and prosperous future. But it comes from him. And he is genuine. Solid.

There seems to be no doubt in his mind that this is right for you.

He believes in this.

In you.

And then, he pulls you closer. His breath fans warm against your skin, you feel his chest move as he speaks his next words.

“You’re safe here, darlin’,” he whispers. A hand reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I promise.”

You believe him.

Maybe because of the way he says it so earnestly, unshakable, determined.

Maybe because of the way he holds you as if you mean more to him than anything else ever did.

Maybe because of the way his strong heartbeat beneath your palm is so reassuring, so passionate.

Maybe it’s just him.

After all, it has been him since the first moment your eyes found him. A man standing rigid and intimidating, his silhouette cut from the very shadows that enveloped him.

His gaze alone sent a tremor through you, those many weeks ago, in the tunnels of the palace, as if he already decided your worth before a word had even passed between you.

The hatred in his eyes had been undeniable, a roaring fire fed by years of betrayal and injustice, all hidden behind a mask of indifference.

But something else had lurked there. Something wounded, something searching, something that you would come to understand.

It has been him when you found out where his hatred was rooted.

Born from the sins of your father, in the broken promises of a ruler who swore loyalty to his men only to cast them aside when their usefulness was deemed expired.

A soldier betrayed, a man left with nothing but scars and grief and the knowledge that his devotion had been answered with silence.

Bucky Barnes has fought for your kingdom. Has bled for it. Has faced death for it. Has believed in it.

And in return, he has been given exile, stripped of his honor, and robbed of the people who mattered most - his mother and sister used as a leash to keep him compliant.

Your mother ensured their safety and sent them far away, but he still has to live with their absences, the uncertainty of how they are doing, and where they reside.

The anger that has festered in him was not misplaced. It was justified. You know that now.

And you know that if there is anyone who should reunite them with him, it is you. The idea has taken root inside of you, latching onto your ribs like vines, growing stronger with each passing day.

If your mother had the power to save Bucky’s family from your father's hands, then surely you can find the strength to bring them back. You don’t know where she sent them, where she thought they would be safest, but there has to be a way.

A letter, a name, a whisper of a clue waiting in the dark. You will find it. You will search every inch of this world if you must.

Because it is not just about justice. It is not just about redemption. It is about him.

The man who has been forced to protect a princess born from the same bloodline of a man who has stolen something irreparable from him. The man who once looked at you like you were the sum of every lie he has been told, the man who now watches you with something softer, something hopeful. The man who has kissed you like a promise, who has held you like you are something precious, something he wants to keep. The man who has chosen you when he has every reason not to.

Bucky Barnes deserves to see his family again. He deserves to know they are safe, that they live, that they are not lost to time and cruelty. And you will be the one to give that to him.

You are certain of that.

“Bucky.”

It’s barely a word, spoken so softly, but Bucky hears it.

His brow furrows ever so slightly at your tone, concern rushing through his eyes for a second, regarding you with attentiveness.

His hands continue their exploration, fingers smoothing over your waist, mapping your form.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asks patiently, nodding for you to go on.

You swallow, heart twisting as you gather your thoughts.

“I need to say this,” you start, but his brow only furrows deeper. His hands stop on your hips, waiting for you to continue. “I cannot express how sorry I am for what my father did to you.”

The blue of his eyes darkens. He parts his lips, ready to dismiss it, ready to push it aside like he has done with so many wounds inflicted upon him.

But you press on.

“I know I’m not him,” you continue, meeting his eyes. Voice a little frail, but remaining resolved. “And I know I cannot undo what he did - cannot rewrite the past or erase the pain he caused. But I hate that it happened. I hate that I was ignorant for so long, that I did not ask more questions when I should have.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches, muscles ticking beneath his skin and his gaze lowers.

His expression is unreadable at first, carefully guarded. Like a man who has spent a lifetime learning how to keep his pain behind locked doors. But you don’t want him to do that with you. Not anymore.

The fingers on his chest start to trace a careful path over his left shoulder. Even through the fabric of his shirt, you can feel the uneven texture of marred flesh, a reminder of the pain he had endured, a reminder of something he can’t escape. Your heart bleeds for him.

Bucky’s breath catches, shoulders tensing up slightly, but he doesn’t stop you. Just watches you, searching for something he won’t ever find. Disgust. Fear.

He exhales after a beat, something deep and profound, before reaching up to take your hand gently in his. His thumb brushes over your knuckles and he takes your hand off his shoulder to bring it to his lips, kissing your skin there tenderly.

His eyes find yours again, something shimmering in their depths. Something breaking and rebuilding all at once.

“You don’t owe me an apology, sweetheart,” he quietly says, his voice a thick rumble. “Not for him. Not for what you didn’t know.”

Your throat tightens.

“Still,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry, Buck.”

Bucky stiffens. Just slightly.

His fingers twitch where they hold onto yours and when you take a better look at him, you catch the faintest flush creeping up his neck, settling at the tips of his ears.

He blinks, then glances away for the briefest moment, trying to compose himself.

You bite back a smile.

He exhales a breath that is almost a laugh, but there is something softer underneath it. He turns your hand over in his and presses another kiss to the center of the back of your hand. You bite your lip.

“Buck?” he rasps out, clearing his throat. “Where’d you get that from?”

“Steve said it earlier. I liked it,” you declare, grinning softly.

There is a tug at the corner of his mouth, but the color on his face hasn’t entirely faded. If anything, it deepens when he meets your gaze again, something affectionate flashing in his stormy blue eyes, the simple act of you calling him that seems to have rattled him more than he might have expected.

“Yeah?” He lets out another breath, shaking his head like he can’t believe you, as if you managed to unearth something in him he long had buried deep. A kiss meets your nose.

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

It is a strange thing, this feeling inside of you.

Strange because it is so unfamiliar, but even more so because it does not frighten you. It is something so new, so boundless, and you feel like it should be more overwhelming than it is right now, should make you hesitate.

But it doesn’t. Not in this moment at least.

Rather, it embeds itself within your bones, your skin, and the spaces between your ribs, establishing a residence there as if it was destined to be.

It is not the fleeting kind of lightness that comes with bringing a forced discussion with some Lord to an end or the temporary relief of fulfilling an obligation.

This lightness is deeper, so warm and weighty, like the glow of the first morning sun spilling through trees and making the earth all shiny. It fills you up, but it does not press down on you. It lifts you. Like a breeze curling under the wings of a bird in flight.

The tight pull of breath always caught too high in your chest is getting released. You feel like you exist without effort, at least right now. No knots in your stomach waiting to tighten. Nothing to brace yourself against here in Bucky’s arms, here in Bucky’s lap. You are simply being hold, by this incredible man and the earth and you are finally light enough to notice.

You think, perhaps, that this is what contentment is supposed to feel like. Not the shallow kind you have convinced yourself you’ve had before, but real and true contentment. It is not desperate or fleeting. It is secure and whole. It lingers in spaces where doubt once lived, replacing it with something softer, something stronger.

And you want to get used to it.

Not just the feeling of Bucky’s warmth against you, his hands on your waist, his breath ghosting over your skin as he watches you with eyes that see more of you than anything ever has.

It is what comes with it - the stillness inside you, the feeling that, for the first time, you are exactly where you are supposed to be.

You never want to stop feeling like this.

There is no fear in that thought, no apprehension, no indecision. Only the truth as sure as the beat of your own heart. A truth that you do not need to run from. A truth you want to hold onto.

You have always felt so helpless, a pawn in a game played by men who viewed you as little more than a bargaining piece.

You had believed for so long, that your fate was sealed - to be given away to some lord, some stranger who would claim you as his possession, who would shape your life to fit his desires.

You never thought you had a choice.

But now, especially here with Bucky, freedom no longer feels like a foolish dream.

But you are not dreaming anymore.

You are no longer walking through marble halls and seeing a ghost in your reflection in the polished floors, your presence announced before you even entered a room.

You had been told your life that power is your birthright. That it is simply something you have because of your blood.

But you have never felt less powerful than when you sat on a throne, looking down at a world you were meant to govern someday but have never touched. Never walked through. Never lived in. A kingdom only yours by name but not by heart.

But here - in this place, this home that is not gilded but real - you feel power for the first time.

Not the kind that demands respect through titles and gold-threaded sashes. Not the kind that is wielded from a seat high above. Not the ornamental power of a princess, where everything was dictated to you, where your hands were kept clean while others did the work.

But the kind that is earned.

The kind that festers in your hands as you work alongside others, as you listen, as you see. The kind of power that does not isolate you, but makes you into something greater than yourself.

You are no longer watching the people you are supposed to rule from afar. You are among them. You are one of them. And that means you can help in ways you never could before.

Not by signing decrees in a gilded chamber, but by standing beside them, hearing their worries not through secondhand whispers but through their own voices, spoken under the same sky, breathed into the same air.

There is nothing grand about this worn-down cabin, its wooden beams creaking faintly due to the wind outside. But here are the walls close enough to feel like an embrace. The fire burns because someone built it, not because a low-respected servant lit it for them. The food is made with hands that know hunger, not by unseen kitchen staff preparing feasts for people who will never truly taste them.

For so long, your life has been a thing of ceremony, of distance.

You smiled in silence at elaborate gatherings while outside the palace gates, there were people who had nothing. You had been dressed in fabrics woven by hands you never saw, had eaten from plates polished by people who were invisible to you.

You were a symbol. A statue.

Here, you are a person.

You are listening. Learning. Understanding. With the will to help.

And you owe them.

You owe Bucky, who risked everything, who once had nothing by the hand of your own father, who still gave.

You owe Sara, who looked at you with concern instead of resentment.

You owe Sam, who teased and laughed when he had every reason to scorn you.

You owe Steve, who came looking for you to make sure you are here because you want to be.

You owe all of Bucky’s friends, who are willing to take you in.

You owe AJ and Cass and all the other children, who are young but already know the world better than you did when you were their age.

You owe the townsfolk, who live with a laugh in their breaths and callouses on their hands, who bake bread and spin needles and sell belongings to earn their living.

You have spent your life wearing a crown, but now you are learning what it means to deserve one.

It took ruin for you to find your purpose.

It took fire to finally wake you up, to finally make you see.

It took the scent of smoke in your lungs, the acrid sting of burning silk, the sight of your world collapsing in embers and ruin to strip you down to something exposed and wholehearted.

It took the echoes of screams, the witness of death, and the brutality of your so-called power stolen by force to finally open your eyes.

It took blood running in the luxurious corridors of your palace, seeping into the cracks of the very foundation that held up your name.

It took watching torches burning high in the night.

It took the fall of a kingdom - the death of a king whose sins caught up to him, a queen who had tried to shield her daughter from the truth but could not protect her from the consequences.

You had never fought for anything before. You had been raised to believe you wouldn’t have to, that battles were waged in war rooms with ink and parchment, that change was something slow and distant and impersonal.

But it never was. It never was supposed to be.

It was blood on marble floors. It was your parent's life’s taken in the dark. It was hands grabbing you, dragging you away from the only life you had ever known. It was hatred in Bucky’s eyes when he looked at you, sharpness in the way he treated you, old wounds bleeding into every moment, every breath between you.

Bucky Barnes had not wanted you. Had not wanted this burden, this reminder of the very throne that had once crushed him beneath his weight.

He had looked at you with cold indifference and that simmering loathing buried behind those storm-dark eyes, seeing nothing but the ghost of a man who stole his life.

But fate thrust you into his hands anyway.

It forced you into the shadows of his world, into the villages and the backroads, into the lives of the very people you had spent your whole life standing apart from. it stripped you of titles, luxury, of safety. Of all the things you took for granted.

You had spent your life being something beautiful, something untouchable. But beauty did not save you. Elegance did not keep you from falling. Manners did not stop the fire from devouring your home.

You had burned that night.

Not just your home. You. The girl who has never asked questions. The princess who has accepted the world as it was given to her. The daughter who has not known the sins of her father.

She has burned away, turned to ash with the palace that has stood for centuries.

Now, you are something else.

You are rage tempered into steel.

You are grief sharpened into resolve.

You are ashes turned into kindling, waiting to catch fire.

And you will rise.

Not as a queen draped in gold and jewels, sitting high on a throne of empty power. But as something stronger. As the force that destroys the old world and builds a new one from its remains.

Something built from the bones of the past, something shaped by loss and truth and the unrelenting fury of a fire that refuses to die.

You will wield it.

You will not let the past define you. You will not let their sins be yours. You will fight. For freedom. For justice.

For the people who took you in when they had every reason to turn you away.

For the mercenary who should have hated you forever but now watches you like you are something worth believing in.

You will be born anew from the ashes of what once was.

You will not let the flames consume you this time.

You will not be caged.

You will set the world alight.

You will rise.

Like a phoenix.

“She survived the war; many times over. And she still somehow looked like royalty.”

- Lalah Delia

Taglist: @cjand10 @unaxv @bellamoret @singsosworld @mrsnikstan @melsunshine @hawkinsavclub1983 @homiesexual-or-homosexual @vvs-dlxodyd @winterassassin1804 @thescarleteevee @coutureisart @chachkid @ibelieveindragons141 @baw1066

#like a phoenix #epilogue #bucky barnes x you #princess!reader #bucky x female yn #mercenary!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky series #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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kazumist · 9 months ago

Text

WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies.

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him?

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again.

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?”

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well.

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?”

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.”

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — —

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides.

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — —

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now.

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?”

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?”

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — —

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.”

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — —

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay.

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.”

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side.

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss.

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — —

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you.

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him.

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact.

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips.

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.”

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back.

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — —

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour.

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — —

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — —

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since.

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold.

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

#( writings )#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #x reader

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aventurineswife · 27 days ago

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I have a hc that ratio sketches in his sketchbook of his new ideas for sculptures he'll create later on. While he does, he absentmindedly drew you.

AAKWISYDVEUWJAAYHHHHHOHMYIGGDSGSVK I NEED THIS AS A SHORT FIC SO BAD

“To know, to be known, and to understand; that is the ultimate goal”

Summary: Ratio is deep in thought as he sketches new ideas for sculptures. While absorbed in his work, he absentmindedly draws you—capturing your likeness with an unexpected softness. Surprised by this, Ratio reflects on the unintentional inspiration you've become in his creative process, leading him to contemplate incorporating you into his future artistic endeavors.

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Unintentional Affection, Art, Soft Moments.

A/N: I couldn't come up with anything more so this very short...🧍‍♀️

Ratio sat at his desk in the quiet study room, his wavy hair falling loosely over his eyes as he leaned intently over his sketchbook. His hand moved fluidly, drawing lines and curves that seemed to blend into one another with an ease that only someone of his intelligence could manage. The sketches were of sculptures, intricate designs that were far beyond what any ordinary artist could conceive. He was always looking ahead, thinking of new ways to express knowledge through art.

As the hours passed, his mind remained focused on the shapes and forms forming on the pages. His hand continued to work mechanically, almost absentmindedly, until he paused. A curious expression crossed his face as he looked down at the paper. There, amid the flowing lines and geometric designs, was a figure—a likeness that, though not intentional, was undeniably you.

Your image was captured with the same precision and detail that characterized all of Ratio's work, yet something about it felt different. Perhaps it was the way his sharp strokes softened around the contours of your face, or how your posture seemed to convey a certain serenity in contrast to his usual intense energy. You had unknowingly become part of his creative process, a subject in his study without having posed or even been aware of it.

Ratio’s brow furrowed slightly, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering in his eyes. He could be dismissive of the way the mundane often interfered with his intellectual pursuits, but this... this felt different. He set his pencil down for a moment, considering the unintended addition to his work.

“You,” he muttered to himself, “seem to have infiltrated my thoughts without my permission.” His voice was low but not unkind, as though he were speaking to himself more than to you.

He sat back, glancing at you for the first time since the drawing had started. You were in the room with him, absorbed in your own tasks, unaware of the way his focus had shifted.

Perhaps, he thought, he could create something new—something inspired by you, not as an object, but as a concept. Knowledge, after all, came in many forms. And sometimes, it was found in the most unexpected of places.

He smiled to himself, picking up his pencil again, eager to see what this new direction in his art would bring.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio #veritas x reader #veritas ratio #veritas #unintentional affection #art #soft moments #ficlet

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lumitoiile · 4 months ago

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zhongli : [fleeting.]

summary : by the time the lord of geo even comes to terms with his feelings, it's already far too late... gn! reader (no pronouns.) tw! : angst, themes of d3.th. ╱ word count : 1.1k.

throughout the extended course of his life, zhongli has long since learned to appreciate the beauty in all things—even the temporary ones.

the way the leaves fall from trees, the glow of lanterns at night, the way the wind breezes through the streets of liyue harbor... all things that would eventually come to pass, eroding away with time. mortals were very much the same. he has walked alongside them, observed them, and let them go, as is the way of the world.

then you came along.

you weren't the first human to intrigue him, but there was something bewildering about your presence in his life. perhaps it was how you treated him so unguardedly, never hesitating to share your thoughts, your laughter, your kindness.

you worked at a small tea shop he frequented, and though he'd initially visit for the quality of the tea, he found himself returning for another reason entirely. he told himself it was simple admiration, an appreciation for your warmth and the light you brought into the lives of others. but deep down, he knew he couldn't be fooled.

there was something different about you. something he could never fully place. it gnawed at the edges of his mind, bothering him in ways that defied his understanding. you would smile at him with an openness that felt disarmingly sincere, and speak to him with an ease he'd only ever known among those closest to him in his long, distant past.

it was troubling. dangerous. even in his mortal guise, he should have known better than to allow such feelings to grow.

so he kept his distance. you were temporary, after all; a fleeting thing. even when you would reach out with a friendly invitation or make a small effort to draw him closer, he would find an excuse to step back. to draw a line, to remind himself who he was... and what you were.

he decided he would simply admire you from afar, steadfast in his resolve and having convinced himself he was doing the right thing. what would come of permitting himself to indulge? only heartache and loss, things he had seen unfold countless times before.

there was one day when you had lingered by his table a bit longer than usual, a hopeful look in your eyes. "mister zhongli, would you care to join me on a walk? my shift ends soon, and the sunset is just lovely at this hour."

he hesitated, a flash of warmth stirring in his chest at the thought alone. he could almost picture it, walking with you, sharing a quiet moment alone together as the sun dipped below the horizon.

but he would not let himself yield. he cleared his throat, and prompted an apologetic smile. "i appreciate the offer, but i have business to attend to."

you nodded once and tried to hide the disappointment in your eyes. but he saw through you, and the sight lingered with him long after he left the tea shop.

still, no matter how many times he had refused you, your kindness never wavered. as the years passed by, you continued to reach out in small ways—a shared story, a cup of tea specially brewed just the way he liked, an invitation to join you on an evening stroll. sometimes he accepted, allowing himself brief moments of joy and companionship.

but he always maintained a wall between the two of you, an invisible barrier he felt he could not cross. he constantly reminded himself that it was for the best; you were human, he had told himself, incredibly fragile. it would be cruel to impose on your life, no matter how brief it might be. the least he could do was ensure that your world remained free of his interference.

but time moved on, as it always does.

your laughter grew quieter, your once sure steps slower. zhongli saw the signs and felt the familiar pang of inevitability. he watched as you grew older, the years etching lines of wisdom into your face and leaving your loud, bright voice soft with age, until one day... you simply weren't there.

he visited the tea shop for the first time in ages, only to receive confused looks and strange stares upon asking for you. who was he searching for? there was no one here by that name, they had said. no one they knew of.

you were gone.

loss was not a new experience for zhongli. though it wasn't until he reached the place where your ashes had been scattered—a spot up in the mountains overlooking the harbor—that he truly understood the finality of it all. there would be no more lingering glances, soft smiles, or warm invitations to walk with you and admire the sunset. he would never again see the way your eyes lit up when you'd greet him hello, or hear your laughter.

the regret sank in like a stone, unyielding and overwhelming. he had anticipated this. he thought he had prepared himself for this. but the painful ache in his chest grew into something sharp, something that twisted with every breath he took.

he knelt there, reflecting on every opportunity he had missed, the words he never expressed, the warmth he had turned away from. he told himself it was for the best, that he was doing what was right... that a god had no business falling for a mortal. yet here he was, mourning you with a grief so profound it left him hollow.

"i thought this was the answer," he said, his words disappearing into the gentle breeze. "i believed i could spare myself this pain by keeping you at arm's length. but perhaps... i was a fool."

the wind rustled gently around him, offering a small sense of comfort. he closed his eyes and allowed the ache to settle within him. he stayed there for what must have been hours, grieving quietly as cherished memories of you played in his mind. in that moment, he realized that there had been no safety in the distance he kept, no way to avoid the torture of your absence.

and as the sun faded below the mountains, casting the harbor in hues of gold and amber, he had finally declared the words he had never spoken aloud.

"i cared for you," he whispered. "more than i should have. more than you knew..."

the wind carried his words away, fading into the stillness of the world. morax, the god of contracts, had lost something he could never retrieve—not with all the wealth and wisdom in the world.

perhaps in another life, he could have loved you properly.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin impact #angst #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x female reader #gn reader #gender neutral #oneshots #fanfiction #liyue

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minghaoes · 4 months ago

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seventeen as love tropes | 95z

pairing: 95s line x gn!reader

96s line | 97s line | maknae line

a/n: hello !! my first attempt at headcanons, kinda nervous ?? i kinda overestimated how long it'll take to write 13 headcanons in one sitting (lol) but i hope you'll enjoy the 95z on their own !! have fun reading :)

☆ choi seungcheol - brother’s best friend

falling in love with your brother’s best friend didn’t come naturally. in fact, you rarely ever considered cheol to be someone worth paying attention to. you and him were close in age, but apart from him being friends with your brother, your paths never crossed. all of this changed when you started going to the same university as cheol, because, unbeknownst to you, your brother had instructed his best friend to keep an eye out for you. at first, cheol did not intervene with your schedule much. he would smile at you when he walked past you on campus, lock eyes with you during parties, and sometimes sit close to you at the library. these little moments turned into grabbing coffee together, dancing with each other during your nights off, and comforting each other with soft little kisses during long study nights at the library.

☆ yoon jeonghan - opposites attract

it wasn’t a secret that jeonghan was beautiful. his soft and often cheeky smile was the reason why so many people fell for his charm, you included. he would frequent parties habitually, prank his friends and sometimes innocent bystanders while he was attending, and always get away by simply sending a loving smile their way. that was, until one of his bold attempts had involved you. you weren’t as widely known on campus as jeonghan was, on the contrary. you were simply existing in your own little world with your own set of friends, something jeonghan was more than aware of. he had noticed your presence at the same parties he attended, his lingering eyes always searching for yours, unbeknownst to even yourself. so when jeonghan had asked you for your assistance, you were curious. and jeonghan’s smile was as soft as ever, his heart beating as fast as yours, when the words of adoration left his lips.

☆ hong joshua - reunion romance

joshua had been your teenage love. and as far as teenage loves go, it did not last after the both of you had graduated school. you slowly grew apart, occasionally liked each other's posts on social media, and cherished the other as your first big love. you hadn’t stayed in contact with each other outside of these small interactions, which is why joshua’s sudden appearance had startled you. he was just as handsome as he always had been, even more now that he was older. his hair had gotten a bit longer, his jaw a bit more defined, but the gentle look in his eyes had stayed the same. you were sitting at your usual table at the cafe you frequented at and that’s when he approached you. his initial greeting was shy. the unrhoughly breathing betrayed his overall calm demeanour, revealing the nerves he felt when he saw you again after so many years. small talk turned into fleeting glances, hesitant touches, and soon enough, a second first date.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #choi seungcheol x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #hong joshua x reader #svt x reader #seventeen headcanons #svt headcanons #choi seungcheol fluff #yoon jeonghan fluff #hong joshua fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #minghaoes.fics

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cupids-diner · 7 months ago

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hey! so I'm kind of obsessed with your writing ☠️ it's all soooo good, i was wondering if you could do a fic where the reader is a ballerina? (I'm also obsessed with your moodboard because I did ballet when I was a kid 😭) with Damian Wayne plsss, because I just LOVED how you write him nd I thought it would be cute.

Beneath the ballet’s shadow - Damian Wayne

A/n: I love getting requests for Damian and generally any of my favorite characters from shows/movies. Especially when I get to write for specific types of readers (ex: ballerina!reader) because I like looking up stuff to include in the story! I’ve also noticed how my formatting of my stories change with the stories, like there is some consistency but not a lot, Y’know?

Warnings: none

Rating: fluff

Damian Wayne wasn’t one for distractions. His life had been built on discipline, precision, and a resolve far beyond his years. Yet, for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint, he found himself regularly at Gotham City Ballet, watching you.

It had started innocently enough. He had accompanied you once, claiming he needed to ensure your safety as you walked through the dark streets of Gotham. But after that first time, something kept pulling him back. Maybe it was the grace in your movements, the way you seemed to defy gravity with every leap and pirouette, or perhaps it was the quiet contentment he felt in your presence, a rare feeling for someone like him.

You’d catch him sometimes, leaning against the doorframe of the practice room, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “You know, you don’t have to keep coming,” you’d tease, wiping the sweat from your brow.

“I’m simply ensuring you’re not slacking in your training,” he’d reply, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. But in truth, he admired your dedication, your focus—traits he valued in himself.

One day, after practice, you sat beside him on the worn wooden bench outside the studio. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city, softening the harsh lines of the buildings. Damian was unusually quiet, even for him, staring out at the horizon as if deep in thought.

“You know,” you started, breaking the silence, “I appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

He glanced at you, his sharp green eyes softening just a fraction. “It’s nothing,” he replied, but the words felt heavier than usual.

“No, it’s not nothing,” you insisted, a gentle smile on your lips. “You’re always here, watching. It’s like you care or something.”

Damian felt his heart skip—a rare, unfamiliar sensation. But he maintained his stoic demeanor, merely raising an eyebrow. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, but you could see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck.

You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Okay, okay, tough guy. But seriously, I’m glad we’re friends.”

Friends. The word hung in the air between you. Damian had never had many of those, never allowed himself the luxury. Yet, with you, it felt different. There was no pressure, no expectations. Just… peace. He didn’t need to say anything more; you seemed to understand him without words.

As you leaned back on the bench, your shoulder brushing against his, Damian felt an odd warmth settle in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it meant, or why it felt so significant. But for now, he let it be, content to simply sit beside you, watching the sun dip below the skyline, the weight of the world momentarily lifting from his shoulders.

In that moment, he didn’t need to be the son of Batman, the heir to the League of Assassins. He was just Damian, a boy quietly, contentedly falling for his best friend. And that, he decided, was enough.

A/n: does anyone know where I can watch more Batman/batfam movies/slash shows? I have Netflix, Hulu, and Disney plus and like miscellaneous apps to watch movies on but they’re almost always unavailable on those platforms. I plan on creating like a schedule for when I post because I go back to school soon, I was supposed to go back yesterday but my mom forgot to register me so.

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x reader #reader imagine #ballerina #ballet #dance #cute #dc comics #dc universe

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wlntrsldler · 1 year ago

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poisoned mercury | pink skies

a/n: bf!luke, who else cheered?; suggests that five star and luke spent the night but nothing explicit! i decided not to let the angst monster touch them. they're my babies!!!! five star and luke get behind me!!!

viii. pink skies by lany

series masterlist | previous | next

there were many things about luke castellan that surprised you. one being that he wore glasses, or at least is supposed to wear glasses. he refused to wear them, against the sound medical advice of his optometrist and his mom’s insistence. his first adult responsibility was buying his own contacts because his mom refused to set up the appointments for him out of spite. he only wore his glasses when he was around the boys and poisoned mercury’s management team, but never out in public, and definitely never on stage.

two, he loved jazz music. only a handful of people knew this about him and half of those who do, don’t believe him. he supposed it was hard for people to believe that a pop punk lead singer would have an appreciation for jazz music, but luke loved it. jazz always sounded romantic and sensual and there was something calming about it. he listened to jazz before each show. he’ll never admit this unless you twist his arm, but he wept like a goddamn baby when he first watched la la land.

third, he was a polyglot, which he says is a little ironic because according to his mom, he spoke his first words in english significantly later than his peers, but he picked up on other languages quickly. he first found out about his talent in high school when he started hanging out at the rodriguez household and chris’ mom and sisters started saying phrases to him in spanish. he started taking spanish classes in high school and kept teaching himself when he dropped out. so far he can speak spanish, italian, and a bit of french. he attempted to learn greek, but it never clicked for him. he knew how to read it but his pronunciation was atrocious. he promised he’d try again sometime soon, but who knows if that’ll happen.

fourth, his idea of pillow talk was the two of you asking random questions to each other to get to know each other better, which is how you learned all these things about him. after one thing led to another last night, you fell asleep to the sound of luke’s voice against your ear. it wasn’t even that late; the group hadn’t come back from their trip to get food after they left the party, but you and luke were sleepy as you lay in the tangled sheets of your bed, at peace.

you learned that he was ticklish on the side of his ribs and that he planned to get a tattoo there but when the artist tried to put the stencil on his skin, he giggled and moved around so much that the artist warned him about his placement. he didn’t end up getting the tattoo there, but instead got it a little lower on his torso. luke had six tattoos, making him the one in the band with the least amount. the stolls were tattoo fiends and made it their mission to get a small tattoo from each place they visited on tour. luke’s personal favorite was the single line on the side of their index finger. it was a messily done stick-n-poke after one too many drinks in new jersey.

when he was younger, he used to climb on the roof of his house in connecticut. his parents warned him that he was going to hurt himself one day, but he, being the rascal that he was, never listened. until one day, after a light rain, he’d gone up there and slipped on the shingles and fell face-first against the roof. he scratched his face pretty badly, hence the scar on his face now. he told people that he got the scar from a bar fight because it sounded cooler. one day his childhood pictures will be posted on some website and his cover story won’t be as believable anymore, but that’s a bridge he’ll cross when he gets there.

it was weird to fall asleep next to someone. you hadn’t found yourself in this position in a long time, longer than you’d care to admit. when you hooked up with people in college, you purposefully made up some excuse about why they had to leave before sun up. “my roommate will be back soon.” “i have a huge test tomorrow morning.” “my friend just called and said she needed my help so i gotta go.” but with luke, you didn’t feel the need to make up an excuse to kick him out. you didn’t want him to go.

he asked the silent question as he was putting his clothes back on, hesitantly approaching your bedroom door to exit. he didn’t know if he was overstaying his welcome. he didn’t want to rush you when it came to things like this. so when he’d asked where his other shoe went, not caring about where it landed in the heat of the moment, you shrugged your shoulders and said, “dunno. we’ll figure it out in the morning, come back to bed.”

you didn’t need to tell him twice.

luke woke up before you did. you were lying on his chest, face pressed into the crook of his neck. your breaths made his skin tingle. he twirled the ends of your hair around his fingers, taking in the view of you next to him. he could get used to waking up like this every morning, he thought. he couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day.

you stirred, craning your head to face him as your eyes fluttered open, a subdued smile on your face, “g’mornin.”

“g’mornin’, five star,” he replied, lips immediately leaning over to press against yours. he frowned when you pulled back, shaking your head, “let me kiss you.”

“i have morning breath,” you cringed, moving your arm from under you to caress the nape of his neck. you placed a kiss on the corner of his lips, making him groan.

“i don’t care,” he pouted, nudging your nose with his own. you rolled your eyes but let him kiss you. the kiss was lazy and languid, lips moving gracefully against each other. it was sweet and slow like you were both trying to soak in this feeling with each other. you broke the kiss when you broke out into a smile, suddenly feeling shy.

“it’s noon,” you said, glancing at your clock behind luke. “we need to get up soon.”

“five more minutes,” he placed a string of kisses on your shoulder blade, grinning at the red marks he left on your skin from last night. “let’s stay here a little longer.”

you had a feeling here meant something more than just the comfort of your bed. here was the bubble you both allowed yourself to stay in for the last twelve hours, a little universe that was just for the two of you. it was different kissing luke in the darkness of the night. you could blame it on the secrecy of it all, shadows hiding your feelings for him, no expectations or weight of the dreaded conversation, but in the morning light, you felt vulnerable. you knew the mature thing to do was to ask him about what last night meant. was it just a one-time thing? would things change between the two of you now that the chase was over? you didn’t know.

little did you know, luke was thinking the same things as you. he would prolong this safe haven for as long as he could in case he would never get to experience it again. luke tightened his grip around your waist, breathing in the scent of your shampoo as he kissed your forehead. he couldn’t stop himself. he got a taste of what it was like to be with you and now, he couldn’t get enough. he’d find any excuse to have his lips on you. he grinned at you as he pulled away, “you snore, you know that?”

you buried your face in your pillow, embarrassed, “stop it.”

he laughed, “it’s cute, five star! i don’t mind it.”

“are you sure?” you asked, scrunching your face up in disgust, “i can’t in good conscience let you sleep over again if you don’t even get any sleep because i snore.”

“consider your conscience cleared because i really don’t mind,” luke pressed his lips against yours again. gods, he couldn’t get enough of you. “this makes up for it.”

“ew,” you shoved him playfully, sitting up to start getting ready for the day. luke remained flat on his back on your bed, “you’re so fucking corny.”

he propped his head up on his extended elbow, a smirk on his face. the rays of sunlight that peeked through your blinds illuminated his toned chest. faint scratches and pink marks contrasted his tanned skin. “guilty.”

you got up from bed, digging out a clean sweater from your closet. you wandered around your room, organizing things as you went on. luke watched you from your bed, eyes following your every move. his white shirt was peeking out from under the sweater. your sleep shorts showed off your toned legs perfectly. your hair was a mess, braids undone, but you still looked gorgeous. he blinked as your eyes darted to him, “you look beautiful.”

you rolled your eyes, narrowing your eyes at him, “you can’t even see me properly. you don’t have your contacts in.”

he’d taken them off before he fell asleep. he hated sleeping with contacts in. he’d snuck out in the middle of the night to grab his glasses from his nightstand before slipping back into bed with you. he was thankful you were a pretty heavy sleeper because he didn’t want you to think he was sneaking out to leave you by yourself after last night. when luke returned to his side of the bed, you rolled over and cuddled into him in your sleep, like you’d been waiting for him to return.

luke reached over to retrieve his glasses from your bedside table and placed them on his face. he pushed them up on the bridge of his nose and shrugged, “still beautiful.”

you walked over to him, sitting on his lap with your thighs caging him in. you held his face in your hands, admiring how he looked with the frames on his face. luke’s hands made their way to your waist, steadying you. you smiled, “i like how you look with your glasses.”

a lopsided smile appeared on his face, boyish and charming. “yeah?”

“mhm,” you hummed, “you look like a nerd. s’cute.”

“pfft,” he scoffed, poking your side, “i’m not a nerd. i’m a rockstar.”

“shut the fuck up,” there was no venom in your voice, despite your words. you couldn’t muster any resemblance of annoyance when he was looking at you all doe-eyed and pouty-lipped. you moved from on top of him, crawling over to your empty spot, “luke?”

he turned to you, “five star?”

“what are we doing?”

“we’re spending the day in bed,” he replied, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. he knew that the conversation was coming in soon. he was scared of what you’d say next.

your smile vanished as your shoulders hunched over, “you know what i mean.”

luke rubbed his jaw, “you tell me.”

luke didn’t know what he should say. he didn’t want to say that last night meant nothing to him because he’d be lying if he said that and he didn’t want to lie to you, but he also didn’t want to scare you off by telling you how he really felt. it felt like a situation he couldn’t win. his pessimism was hounding him. he didn’t want to mess this up before it had the chance to start.

“are we just fucking around? is this casual because i–”

at first he thought he could handle it. he’ll let you take the lead, he’ll follow you. whatever you wanted, he’s game for it, even if it meant that he got hurt along the way. but then the word casual left your lips and it felt like he was slapped across the face. he thought he could handle it if you wanted you guys to be casual or friends who kiss sometimes or friends who occasionally do more than kissing sometimes, but actually hearing you use those words made him tense.

“please don’t ever use those words about us again,” luke breathed out, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “i don’t know if you’ve noticed five star, but there’s nothing casual about how i feel about you.”

“i think we need to start talking to each other more,” you pondered. “because there’s nothing casual about how i feel about you either.”

“throw a guy a bone sometimes. you’ve tormented me for two months. how was i supposed to know that?” he teased.

you cocked an eyebrow, “but yet you like me so really what does it say about you?”

just like that, the indecision faded. it was back to just you and luke. the same way you’d always teased each other and pushed each other’s buttons. you’d both been stressed about what the other was thinking when you should’ve just talked to each other. perhaps all the poets and the writers in the world were onto something when they said that communication is key because you two wasted so much time running away from what this could be. it was funny really, how the two of you were both keeping these things to yourself, too scared of how you felt for each other to make a move. how much sooner could this have happened if you told him how you felt the minute you realized it? would he have kissed you a month ago? would you have been waking up with him beside you on your bed for weeks? who knows?

“it says more about you, to be honest,” he said, “you’re irresistible. even when you’re mean to me, i adore you.”

“you’re such a flirt, castellan.”

“i need to up my game,” luke chuckled, “yeah, i got the girl but now i gotta work to keep you.”

you placed a hand on your chin, pretending to think, “i don’t recall being asked to be anyone’s girl.”

“you’re breaking my heart, five star,” he sighed dramatically, clutching his chest. he dropped his body weight on yours, making you squeal and attempt to push him off. he laughed at your efforts. “be my girl?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“let me hear the song.”

luke let out a full belly laugh, rolling over on the bed. he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. there was never a moment where he wasn’t on his toes when he was with you. he didn’t expect you to say that. you really were stubborn when it came to things you put your mind to. that fucking song. “no, i told you it’s not ready!”

you stuck your tongue out at him, “then no.”

luke’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as a goofy grin appeared on his face. he pulled you on his lap again, back pressed against his chest. he moved your hair to one side, kissing down the other side of your neck in soft, quick motions. he mumbled into your skin, “fine, but i’m following you around like a lost puppy. i’m yours.”

you sighed dreamily, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. you couldn’t help but make fun of him despite the butterflies in your stomach, “simp.”

you felt him nod against your body, “that’s me.”

“we really need to get out of bed.”

“five more minutes?”

it had been at least fifteen since he last asked for more time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. you gave in and got back under your covers with him. you let him be the small spoon this time, your arms wrapped around his toned back, smiling at the soft sighs that left his lips when you ran your fingers down his spine. he kissed your collarbones, face relaxing as sleep overtook him again.

you watched him fall asleep and reached for your phone, trying not to disturb his rest. you snapped a quick picture of him, smiling as you admired his features. you were falling for luke castellan.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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hyunjinspark · 1 year ago

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star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 18

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

genre: friends to lovers, so much angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden romance, slowburn (!!!) soulmate au, star-crossed lovers

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him. there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.

word count: 33K

warnings: cursing, drinking, mature content, heavyyyy angst, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, unrequited love, mature language, dirty jokes, arguments, whipped hyunjin, a big confrontation, lots of heartbreaks, mentions of diet, mentions of threats, toxic idol culture, a scene of unwarranted sexual advances! (not from hyunjin)

a/n: whew, this is another big chapter and picks up from hyunjin's pov after he moved back to the city, hope that's not confusing! there's a lot of toxicity surrounding idol culture, and features mature language and content throughout. please read the warnings to make sure you're comfortable with everything. this fic has taken a life of it's own, and im really enjoying focusing on yn's character arc, along with the obvious lovestory. this isn't a feel-good chapter, it features a lot of angst and uncomfortable situations, but i promise things will get better after this! anyway, this was very fun to write and picks up on one of my favorite arcs of this story. please get comfortable with snacks and a blanket to read. you can listen to my star lost playlist here!

important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.

masterlist

Five Months Ago.

The electric blue guitar in Hyunjin’s hands felt familiar. He adjusted the strap around his body, he was getting used to the weight of it again. It had been a while since he’d touched it, fingers skimming over the strings. If he focused on this, he could ignore the blaring lights in his face.

“Still not used to the spotlight, Jinnie?” Jisung asked, elbowing him in the stomach. Hyunjin doubled over, avoiding another attack from the man, “Ouch. The lights are brighter than I remember”

“Well, how else will they get our pretty faces on camera?” Jisung grinned, stepping in front of him, and thankfully blocking the heat of the lights.

“I’m…really hot” Hyunjin declared, drops of sweat dripping down his forehead, “I hope they can fix the cooling in here”

Jisung sighed, lifting his guitar to help him tune it, taking the weight momentarily off his hands. As he did that, someone stepped up to Hyunjin, a little electric fan and makeup palette in hand, “Can you please hold this? Your makeup’s running”

“Sorry” He apologised, even though it was no one’s fault. The stage equipment and lights made the set far too hot, the air conditioning was broken and they’d only just begun. Hyunjin couldn’t fathom what the full day of filming would look like. He held the little fan to his face, the cool instantly relaxing his muscles with relief, shoulders sagging from tension. Jisung stood between them still, trying to tune his guitar and the makeup lady awkwardly stepped closer, patting down the foundation on Hyunjin’s cheeks, “Did you tan when you were away?”

“Um, I suppose. I was out in the sun a lot” He responded, but realised quickly that she didn’t really want a response. She was berating him because his usual foundation no longer matched him. Her lips pulled into a thin line, “You should be careful”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows shot up. Careful about…what exactly? When he was in Daejon, swimming in the Creek, or lounging away in the sun, his first concern wasn’t exactly putting on any heavy sunscreen. He was away from the world of…such.

“He just doesn’t know his face would cost the company millions of won" Jisung joked. It was irresponsible, sure, but he had more important things distracting him at the time. At the memory of the bright Daejon sun, Hyunjin smiled, closing his eyes briefly to revel in the memory. If he thought hard enough, the blaring spotlights could almost replicate the southern summer sun. It was hard to get lost in his imagination though. The lady was prodding and poking at his face, turning him this and that side so she could fix him. This wasn’t the time.

“There. Try playing it now” Jisung said proudly, standing up straight and letting go of Hyunjin’s guitar. So he played a tempo to test it, and the music seemed perfectly fine now. In the end, it was futile anyway. The company didn’t allow them to play live in the music video. Apparently they had no faith that the boys wouldn’t mess up the instruments after such a long hiatus, and there was no time or money for retakes and reshoots. So, they would only pretend to play, and lip-sync the words and hopefully someone in the editing department would make it seem real. Still, Hyunjin was going to try his hardest to genuinely play. He hated pretending.

“Close your eyes,” The lady mumbled, an annoyed tone that frankly felt unwarranted. He followed the instructions, and felt the tip of a brush poking at his eyes as she reapplied some of the darker eyeshadow. The concept for this album was pop-rock, leaning heavily into the rock, and so their makeup was inspired from the 1980s world of rock.

“Did I do something wrong?” Hyunjin asked, as she used a little too much force on him, making his eyes water under the sharp brush.

“Hmm?” She was none the wiser, and he suddenly wondered if he should backtrack, but he wouldn’t be able to continue the filming knowing one of their makeup artists was possibly mad at him. “You…seem upset” He said.

A sigh followed, “I’m not upset, I just think you should take better care of yourself. Jisung was right, you know? Your face does cost us thousand of won. I understand you’ve just come back from vacation but if you don’t do your job, it’s very difficult for me to do mine”

“Right” He nodded, sudden guilt overwhelming him, “Can I open my eyes now?”

With the confirmation, he did and looked at her, “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful in the future”

She smiled, pulling at his cheek, “It’s good to have you back, kid”

Within seconds, the set jumped back to life. Chan ran onto the stage, getting into his position, and Changbin followed. They were both visibly upset, due to the company not allowing them to sing live, but years in this industry had made them numb to some of that anger. Hyunjin took his place on the stage, as the cameras adjusted and thirty-something people gathered before them, ready to film. He wished he could sneak one look in the mirror before filming, for the reassurance that he didn’t look like a total clown, but he trusted the kind makeup lady.

“All right, boys” Chan looked at them, microphone stand in his hands, “From the top, yeah?”

The backing track began on cue, and Hyunjin’s heart pounded like it hadn’t in ages. Maybe he wasn’t prepared to do a full-fledged music video shoot so soon after the hiatus. Did he even remember his chords right? The audience may not be looking at his hands, but he sure as hell would be. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a breath, hoping he didn’t mess up for the sake of their team. Millions of people would watch this. Thousands would instantly know they weren’t actually singing, and he had grown tired of the accusations. Most of those people would be rooting for his failure, and he could imagine the myriad of hate comments about how Hyunjin should never have returned to the band. Maybe it was a mistake being back in the spotlight so soon. Chan’s hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. He leaned in to whisper, loud enough for only Hyunjin to hear, “Forget everyone else, Jinnie. She’s going to love this”

A surprised smile tugged on Hyunjin’s lips just as the spotlight hit him, and the camera began rolling.

»»————-

Later that night, Jisung crawled into his bed. He pulled the blue comforter off Hyunjin’s aching legs, settling cross-legged across him. The filming had taken a toll on him, and he’d really let himself go when he was away. It usually took a lot more to get him this tired, and he was still adjusting to this new schedule. Jisung leaned against the wall, releasing a sigh of contentment. This had become second nature to them, a routine to sit, talk, and catch up on the past few months of summer. They’d stayed in touch through text, but it wasn’t the same. Some nights, they’d go for a walk, find an open barbecue place, and eat into the early hours of dawn. Other nights, they’d stay in the dorm and order some cheesecake, and Jisung would tell him everything he missed. Every anecdote, each funny moment, painstaking details of how many different ways he’d embarrassed himself. Hyunjin had missed a lot, so he’d sit and listen to the tales of the city that he’d pined for all this while. It was good to return to the life he’d left behind. Everything was different here, and sometimes it felt like summer had existed in a void away from the world. Jisung would also ask him about his hometown, but Hyunjin never knew where to start, so he preferred to listen to Jisung instead. He had a lot more to say anyway.

Tonight was different. Jisung asked him about you.

And that wasn’t the routine.

“I don’t really know what you want me to tell you” Hyunjin laughed, and they were both tucked into blankets, like kids bonding at their first sleepover.

“You’ve talked about this girl all freaking summer, and now you have nothing to say?”

“Well, yeah, you already know everything” Hyunjin mumbled, flush rising up. They never had this dynamic before, this…sharing of crushes, or whatever it could be called. Jisung was usually the one in relationships out of the two of them, and Hyunjin would never bug him about it. Not until Jisung told him himself. So, Hyunjin didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah, I know the shortened version you sent over text, but…how’d she react when you said you’re coming back?”

Hyunjin swallowed, memories flashing through his mind of his last night in his hometown, “She was really upset”

“Upset, like…didn’t talk to you kind of upset, or…had sex with you before you left— upset?”

The words sent a flush up Hyunjin’s neck, and he knew this was exactly what Jisung wanted. This was his intention. To embarrass him. To celebrate this new dynamic, when Hyunjin was the one with a stupid crush and not the other way around.

“We didn’t have sex” He clarified. Jisung’s eyes widened, “Really? Not even on the last night?”

Hyunjin leaned his head against the wall, playing with the threads of the blanket. The last night was complicated, for all the right and the wrong reasons, so he settled for the most matter-of-fact answer, “I didn’t have any condoms”

“Shut up, I know that’s not true. I sent you like a huge box your first week in Daejon. Don’t tell me you never used them…”

Hyunjin laughed at the memory, “Thank you for that Jisung, but…I’d already packed it away. I didn’t really expect anything to happen anyway. I thought she’d be too upset at me for leaving”

“So…that’s the only reason?”

Hyunjin swallowed, knowing that if perhaps they’d had an hour longer together that night, things would probably have led straight to that, condoms or no condoms, “Well…we were out of time”

“You spent months with this girl. How were you out of time?”

Hyunjin sighed, “There was no right moment. I didn’t want it to be rushed—”

“No rush? As if you wouldn’t bust a nut as soon as you’re—” Jisung was interrupted with a smack in the face by a pillow, voice turning high, “Ouch! What’d you do that for?”

“I’m not talking about this anymore” Hyunjin laughed, the red reaching the tips of his ears.

“That’s pretty unfair, you know. I used to tell you every detail of my relationship with Mae, down to the nitty-gritty details”

Hyunjin looked up at him. It had been a while since he’d talked about Mae so freely, and he swallowed, “How are you holding up?”

Jisung’s smile fell, humorous demeanour disappearing in seconds, “She’s happy now”

The statement meant so much more than he let on. Happy now. As in, she wasn’t happy before, when she was dating Jisung. Thinking back on it now, their breakup had been explosive, and it seemed like Jisung was still picking up the pieces. Was this what the rest of Hyunjin’s life would look like? Surrounded by miserable relationships destroyed by their careers. He can’t recall the last time he witnessed a love story with a happy ending. He sighed, “That sucks man”

Jisung shrugged, “It is what it is”

Hyunjin stretched out his legs under the blanket, letting out a soft groan, “Man, my limbs haven’t hurt like this in ages”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “You’re getting soft, big boy. We’re hitting the studio tomorrow at six. Album release is only a month away now”

His phone buzzed and he reached for it immediately. “Is that her?” Jisung asked, smiling.

“Yup” Hyunjin typed in a quick text to you, “She’s…telling me about her day”

“Is that all you guys do?” Jisung asked, a smirk on his face, scrolling up on their chats, without permission. He let out a dramatic gasp, “What are you writing her all these long-ass paragraphs for? It feels like I’m reading a book. Big red flag. At least break it up into multiple texts”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “I mean, there’s a lot she’s interested to know about my life here. I like telling her what we’re up to. If you see it from an outside perspective, it’s pretty cool. She really loves it”

Jisung laughed, eyebrows wiggling like a kid, “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s what she loves”

Hyunjin sighed, rolling his eyes, “Stop. We’re just…really close friends now”

“Does she know that?”

He didn’t like this conversation anymore and what it implied. He informed him for the umpteenth time, “I told her from the start that I don’t do relationships. She knows.”

Jisung was still scrolling through their chat, probably hoping to find something steamy but stopped at the media that Hyunjin had shared, letting out a gasp, “Wait a minute. Have you been sending her our studio recordings?”

“Yes” Hyunjin frowned, “She likes those”

“You know, Eunwoo would have a heart attack if he knew you were leaking unreleased music”

Hyunjin sighed. Jisung was always so dramatic. “I’m not leaking anything. It’s only to her. She’s not going to show anyone”

“And how do you know that?”

“I trust her” Hyunjin’s reply was automatic, “More than anything”

Jisung smiled, eyes crinkling, tilting his head, “Even more than me?”

He chuckled, grabbing his phone back, “Shut up”

»»————-

He had been waking up earlier than usual, and he’d find himself at the kitchen table first thing in the morning, watching the sun rise through their apartment window. It was always fun to greet the boys as soon as they woke. He’d missed them for so long and he was trying to cherish every moment with them. Jisung would joke about how obsessed he was with them, often hovering like a parent around the house in the morning, waiting for their kids to wake up. It was strange because Hyunjin wasn’t an early riser, but his thirst to spend time with them overpowered his desire to lay in bed. He sat at the kitchen island scribbling ideas in a little journal Changbin bought him. It had admittedly become his diary, filled with crazy ideas, midnight thoughts, and sketches for paintings.

The dance practices had got easier in the past weeks, and his limbs felt lighter. It almost took no time for him to get back to normal, sucked into the whirlpool of obligations that his life offered. There were so many interviews, press junkets, editorials, and he was back in the studio every night. He’d missed that grandly — getting to work on the music and, for the first time, writing his songs into the album. All of that made everything else worth it — like when they couldn’t leave their dorm because it was surrounded by paparazzi. They’d crowded around the building, hoping to get a glimpse at or any comments out of Jisung. Unfortunately, Jisung was still in the middle of a huge legal battle with the media that had leaked every detail of his personal life and relationship. Hyunjin didn’t understand how Jisung managed to still be so sane, after something like that rocked his world.

But slowly, he carved time in his life to start painting again, between schedules of course. An art shop in Hongdae was perfect for his needs. It was small and convenient, and he could be away from the public eye when he was in it. He found time for you. In changing rooms, backstage, in five-minute breathers between practice, he’d text you when he could.

“You’re up early” Chan smiled, and Hyunjin looked up at him. He was already dressed, and he moved towards the light switch, turning them on, “You’re drawing in the dark?”

“It’s peaceful” Hyunjin hummed, “On set…it’s always too bright”

“Ah. Right. What are you sketching this time?” Chan moved over to him, glimpsing into his diary.

“Just…a rough map of home. I’m writing down all the places, I wanna remember it. I don’t know when I’ll go back”

Chan smiled thoughtfully, “Is that your plan for the day?”

“No, actually, I was just about to head out to buy some flowers. I really want to draw some white hydrangeas, they won’t be in bloom for longer, and I’m hoping I can capture their whole life cycle”

Chan laughed, “Wow. It’s only six am and you’re already talking romance”

Hyunjin flushed, “It’s just for my drawings. I want to get better at observation. Speaking of, can I come watch you in the gym later? I…think I’ll draw you next”

Chan moved around the island, prepping a morning smoothie, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Jinnie”

“Of course not” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, continuing to add details to his little map, right now he was adding the 7/11 between your house and Aera’s.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s going to be possible Jinnie. And…you’re probably gonna have to get the flowers tomorrow” Chan suddenly said, filling up the blender with ingredients.

Hyunjin frowned, “What do you mean?” But of course, Chan turned the blender on right then, so Hyunijn had to wait until he was done to find out. The loud whizzing sound filled the kitchen, and if the other boys weren’t up yet, they certainly would be now.

“Sorry about that” Chan apologised sheepishly, pouring the smoothie into four cups, and then eyed Hyunjin’s pajamas, “You should change into a coat, something warm. It’s chilly out”

Hyunjin tilt his head, suspicious, “Why?”

Chan slid him the smoothie, which Hyunjin hadn’t even asked for, and then grinned, “I’m kidnapping you”

“What?” He laughed, reaching for the cup anyway. He might as well start drinking healthy.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Jinnie. She’s a prodigy, she owns like a gazillion art galleries across the country, and she wants to meet you”

“Since when are you interested in art?” Hyunjin hummed, trying not to gag at the taste of the drink. It was all protein powder and whey. Chan smiled at the sight, leaning forward on the counter, “Since my best friend started drawing masterpieces, of course. Go get changed. I’ll drive us there, and if we have time before going to set, we just might be able to buy your flowers”

»»————-

The paintings in the art gallery were beautiful, and Chan was a good sport, taking just enough interest in the art that Hyunjin felt important in explaining all the techniques. They’d wandered around for a while now, eyeing every exhibition. Enough time had passed as they stood observing the room of sculptures, and Chan nudged him. He was diverting his attention to a woman with a tablet in hand as she walked around the space. The apparent prodigy. She seemed busy, pushing buttons on the tablet as she inventoried the place, a flurry of rich visitors following her around. Hyunjin had seen her before, and he asked, “Does she work in our building by any chance?”

“She certainly does. Hey, Karina!” He suddenly called out, “This is Hyunjin”

Hyunjin went wide-eyed and awkward, certainly unprepared to meet someone so important out of the blue, but Karina seemed sweet enough. Her gaze caught his, widening when she noticed them. She whispered something to her über important guests, and then walked over to them, all prim and poise. She certainly looked the part of an art gallery owner, although Hyunjin had never seen one so young before. She shot him a smile, “Ah. I’ve heard so much about you, Hyunjin”

“Oh no” Hyunjin had a funny feeling in his stomach, “What did Chan say?”

She laughed, “Nothing too bad. He showed me some of your work”

“He what?” Hyunjin cringed, “I’m sorry about that”

She laughed again, “Don’t apologise. Your work’s pretty good. Even before Chan, you were kind of hard to miss actually. Your face is plastered all across the company building”

Hyunjin cringed yet again, clasping his hands together, “I’m…sorry about that. That’s embarrassing”

She laughed, “Not at all. So…do you like the collection?”

Hyunjin looked around, nodding, “Oh. Of course! It’s beautiful. I love the exhibit, and I can’t believe you have some Monet up too. That must have been hard to get”

She tilt her head, an admiring smile on her face, “It certainly was. The job’s not easy, but I enjoy it a lot. We try to stick to contemporary work, switching up exhibits every month or so. You’re lucky you caught us during Monet. We’re having those shipped back to Paris soon”

Hyunjin nodded, hands slipping into his pockets, “Paris. Wow…”

“Actually I don’t have too much time, so I’m going to cut to the chase” She smiled, “The reason I asked Chan if I could meet you was…if you’d ever be interested, I wouldn’t be opposed to hosting an exhibition for your work”

His eyes widened, a surprised chuckle escaping him, “What? I’m literally just starting out. Experimenting…I don’t even have a specific art style yet or much original work…”

Karina shook her head as if all of that was an afterthought, “We already know it’ll be a hit. You’re very loved, especially in Seoul”

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would an actual, real-life gallery ever want to exhibit his work? He barely had work to begin with! All he’d done was post a few artworks on his Instagram, and mentioned that he liked drawing in an interview, “But I’m not a professional, by any means, I just…do it because I enjoy it”

She smiled, “Precisely. It’d be nice to give new artists a voice. Sooner or later, some art gallery is going to snatch you up. I’d prefer if we were the first. There’s a lot of interest in you by the public. It’d be a loss to not display your work. If there’s anything I learnt from Kim Jieong it was—”

“Wait, you know Kim Jieong?” Hyunjin forgot his manners, interrupting her, especially in such an excitement, but he couldn’t help himself.

Karina laughed, eyes narrowing, “Are you a fan?”

“No, but my girlfr-“ Hyunjin stopped in his sentence, clearing his throat, and he could feel Chan’s gaze burn curiously into him, “Um…one of my friends is. He’s her favourite artist in the world”

“Well…I wouldn’t give him so much credit” Karina spoke, clutching the tablet tightly, “But yes, I used to intern with him earlier”

He was too straightforward, but he didn’t care, “Do you think you could help me get in touch with him? I’m sorry, I realise that’s a big favour and—”

Her expression changed, “I don’t know, Hyunjin. My relationship with Jieong…is complicated. But, if you’d really like maybe I could help you set up a meeting or something”

“Really?” His eyes lit up, and the conversation had completely sidetracked but it didn’t matter, “That would mean everything to me. Thank you”

“Of course. I can’t promise anything. This may be TMI, but he and I aren’t on the best terms. He is a wonderful artist though. I’ll give him that”

“Thank you, Karina” He smiled, genuinely. A security guard came up, tapping her on the shoulder. She nodded at him, and then looked back at Hyunjin, “I'm sorry I have to get going, there's been an incident involving a spill in the impressionist gallery …but the offer’s always up for the exhibition, by the way. Eunwoo could give you my contact details. I think you’d made a great addition to my portfolio, Hyunjin”

He smiled, but all he could focus on was that she knew Kim Jieong. Hope festered in his heart that maybe now he could finally get you the chance you deserved.

»»————-

The Hydrangeas bloomed beautifully on Hyunjin’s desk. He’d been drawing them all afternoon, and he looked forward to seeing their state change as he came home each night from work. It felt silly, but summer flowers reminded him of you. The vase needed fresh water, and he stopped sketching to go up to the kitchen and fill it up. The boys were gathered around the dining table, just about to head out to the studio, and Chan was preparing cocktails. Hyunijn switched on the water tap, absentmindedly watching the vase fill up, listening to their conversations.

Karina still hadn’t got back to him, but he was holding onto hope. It had only been a week since their conversation after all. His days since then had been busy so he couldn't worry too much about it, occupied by schedules, he’d also managed to squeeze in time for himself now. It seemed like going back to his hometown had been genuinely helpful. It had fulfilled its purpose. He’d come back to work, feeling a new kick in energy and joie de vivre. There was hardly any sadness like before, and that's all Hyunjin could have asked for from his little vacation anyway.

Since his return, there had been some changes to the company too. He’d discovered a new library, hidden in their building, somewhere on the fourth floor, and he’d been frequenting it during his breaks. Every morning, he picked a new book to read and would fixate on it for the next week and a half. Barely any employees ever came to the library, other than HR sometimes, and it was a nice escape. He could imagine that you’d really love the library, full of nooks and crannies begging to be found and thousands of books aching to be read.

He discovered he had an affinity for poetry, and some poems never left his mind. There was one in particular by Kim Yong-Taek that occupied all the space in his head.

눈 내리기 전에 / Before the snow falls, 한번 보고 싶습니다 / I would love to see you.

They felt real, as if they’d been written only for him, and shivers often ran up his skin as he stood reading them quietly, a deep ache in his heart at the familiarity of the words. It was crazy that something written hundreds of years ago could capture exactly what Hyunjin was feeling right now. He hoped he could make music that felt the same to others. The longing in his bones only got worse each day, and he was making a plan to fix it. Summer had been beautiful, even contending for his favourite season, but it was ending, and he would do anything to make autumn just as beautiful.

»»————-

Sleep clouded his vision, the song's melody blending with his drowsiness. It had been a week of rerecordings and they’d barely got any rest. Hyunjin tugged the headphones off, glancing at Chan through the observation window, “Was that a good take?”

Chan gave him a thumbs up through the window. His energy had been deflated too, but Hyunjin was hoping for a better response, “Are you sure? I can do another take. I think…it doesn’t sound as emotional as Jisung’s verse”

Hyunjin could only just about see Chan’s eyes, squinted over the mask he wore. The decision to cover his face was obvious; there was a little camera propped up in the studio, a way to film behind-the-scenes content for when the album finally released. Chan obviously didn’t want to be captured in this sleep-deprived state. Still, Hyunjin would have loved to see his expression, the microscopic changes in his face would tell him if he really loved the recording or not.

Chan nodded, weary eyes, “If you think you can do a better take, go for it, Hyunjin”

So he did, inhaling a breathful of air so he wouldn’t falter during his lines. He’d sounded too emotionless and mechanical and they were recording a love song. He had to pour his feelings into it, so he closed his eyes. The lyrics were embedded into his brain anyway.

Chan began the backing track, and Hyunjin let his thoughts drift... They wandered into a familiar memory, one he usually saved for bedtime and when he was alone. His mind kept coming back to it. It was so fresh, but each day it was fading away, slipping out of his grasp and he felt the need to bottle up the memory and store it in a safe forever, where it would always be remembered. The twinkling fairy lights of the Château, the blue paint puddle on the floor, the paint you spilled on his shirt, the heated and frenzied first, second…and third kisses. The moment had been so short-lived. He had been so vulnerable that night. You’d seen him that night, truly seen him, and he still felt surprised at how much he’d divulged in you so easily. It was the realest he’d ever felt, like the rest of his life before and after was just a charade for his friends, for the cameras, for himself.

Maybe it was only with you that he was the real Hyunjin. The teasing and laughs over the chocolate strawberries and paint easels had been second nature and strangely familiar, like it wasn’t your first time doing this together, as if you had both been falling into patterns and habits of centuries ago. The most innocent actions felt crude, and cruel. Crude to kiss your cheek but not take it further. Cruel to give in to a desire he could never fulfil. Maybe every other moment in his life had been fabricated except for that night, that would explain why he was the happiest then.

“Shit…what was that?” A voice interrupted him. Hyunjin snapped open his eyes to see Chan staring at him in disbelief. The backing track had gone onto the next verse now. He cleared his throat, “Um. Sorry I….spaced out. Let me record that again”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the best take you’ve ever given us” Chan laughed, in disbelief, stepping into the recording booth, “You sold that to me completely, Fuck. You almost made me tear up. You should do more ballads, Jinnie. That was amazing”

Hyunjin blinked at him, holding onto his headphones tightly, so unaware of himself, “I…I didn’t realise it was that good”

“Come on. Listen to it” Chan grabbed his arm, leading him out, and replaying what had just been recorded. Hyunjin almost didn’t recognise himself singing. He’d never sang like this before. Goosebumps rippled up his arms and neck, and he looked at Chan, “You’re right. That one turned out…really good”

“Damn. You can convince the audience that you’ve lived a thousand lives, been through a hundred heartbreaks. You convinced me. That was so real”

Hyunjin’s lips tugged into a smile, and he pushed his hands in his sweatshirt pockets, “It felt real to me too”

Chan wrapped up the recording, and then happily turned the company camera off, “Do you know what this means, Jinnie?”

“What?” Hyunjin asked, grateful they weren’t being recorded anymore.

Chan stepped closer to him, a growing smile on his face, “We fucking finished this album, baby”

»»————-

Hyunjin was changing the water in the vase. He’d been desperately trying to keep the Hydrangeas alive, but that had been a failing task. So he’d found some time to buy some Cosmos, hoping he could draw them instead. It was almost autumn now, and the flower in bloom had changed, so he kept trying to adjust to it. It was harder than he thought. Chan's voice distracted him, “Are you coming to dinner with us? We’re thinking of trying that new Italian place”. Hyunjin looked up at him, “Shit. Is it okay if I bail? I was going to call Y/N later tonight. She wanted to paint together”

His eyebrows shot up, a small smile on his face, “Paint together? Is that a euphemism?”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, switching the water tap off, “No. It's obviously not”

“Wouldn’t you love if it was?” Jisung smirked at him, walking into the kitchen. It seemed like all their serious, and unserious conversations often took place in this kitchen, their one common space. Chan laughed, “So how long will your paint date last? Should we bring you any takeout pizza?”

Hyunjin shrugged, glancing at the clock, “No, that’s okay, I’m not hungry. It’ll last a few hours maybe. Next week we’re going to be so busy with the press tour, I was hoping to finish a whole painting tonight. It’s easier if I’m doing it with her. I’m just more motivated then”

“There’s a word for that, you know?” Chan leaned forward on the counter, a teasing smile on his face, “She’s your proper muse”

Hyunjin laughed, not expecting him to say that, but he had been thinking about it. After all, that’s what had made the recordings so much easier. He was singing with you in mind. He denied it, “That’s really cheesy, even for you, Chan…”

“Eh, but it’s true. You should tell her that tonight”

Hyunjin smiled, already imagining your reaction to such a thing. He wouldn’t even know how he’d bring it up. Wouldn’t it be too much? Would you be embarrassed? He could recall all the times he’d catch you off guard with his compliments back in Daejon, your expression as if he’d said the most insane thing ever when Hyunjin was just appreciating you. Fuck. He really needed to see that reaction in person again.

Every perfect summer memory only added to the weight of his longing in fall, and he decided it was time, “I’m gonna invite her to come to Seoul”

Changbin stood across the hall, having just come out of his room to catch the last bit of conversation. His eyebrows shot up, “You are…?”

Hyunjin swallowed, catching the boys' reactions as he revealed the plan, “I just bought the train tickets for her this morning, and while she's here she can stay in an apartment I rented out for her. It’s a few blocks away from ours, so she’s close enough to me, without it being suspicious”

Jisung frowned, “But if you rented it, your name would go down in the record”

“No, I already thought of that. I asked to use my aunt’s credit card, and she’s not a Hwang, so there won’t be any trace back to me”

Jisung leaned back in his chair, “You really thought of everything, huh? No loopholes?”

“No loopholes” Hyunjin nodded, hoping they’d approve of it because something like this would put them all under scrutiny and risk, “Well, as long as she says yes”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Changbin frowned, crossing his arms, “If I was her, I’d jump at the chance”

“Yeah, I know you would. There’s an apprenticeship she wanted in the city…but she didn’t get it yet. She may not want to come here anymore…in case it reminds her of that”

“Is there any chance she can still get it?”

Hyunjin shrugged, placing his palms on the counter as he thought over it, “I don’t know how it works. I’m trying to figure it out”

Chan sighed, seeing his dilemma, “Hey, if it’s in the stars…she’ll get it. She seems talented enough from what you tell me about her”

“She’s hellbent on believing she can’t get it. I’m going to try to convince her to apply again. It’s kind of frustrating. Without connections, it’s so hard to make anything out of it. I mean, when we were at the gallery, you introduced me to Karina. It was so easy. She saw my work, and immediately agreed to a fucking exhibition. Sometimes it feels kind of unfair. What did I do to deserve that? I know there are hundreds of artists better than me who should be getting exhibitions, but…I’m getting it just because I’m famous. It feels weird and privileged”

Chan sighed, “Hyun…I know what you mean, but…it’s unfortunately how things are. And it’s not like you’re misusing this. The fact that you recognise it in the first place is sometimes all we can do”

Hyunjin let out an exhale, staring off into the distance, when his phone pinged. It was a text from you.

hey! im all set up here. ready when you are :)

Chan grinned, handing him a cocktail he’d just made, “Go on then. We’ll head to dinner and we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Hyunjin smiled, rushing back to his room. In anticipation of this call, he’d already set up his work area. Ever since he’d been back, he hadn’t gotten too much time talking to you, so he would make the most of it. He set his glass down next to his MacBook, and laid out his canvas. Through the computer screen, he could see a glimpse of your room, which was messier than his. It had more personality, and it was more lived in. He realised he’d never had a chance to come to your place. He had a sudden urge to see how you set up your room and things, your little knick-knacks, the big teddy he won for you, your artwork curated over years. But from hundreds of miles of away, he could only see a little square of your life. You were biting down on a chip when he spoke, “I think you’re going to love the song I’m working on with Chan”

Your face changed, lighting up, “Yeah?”

The connection wasn’t great, so all your responses were delayed, but Hyunjin hummed, proud, “It’s…a sexy, contemporary kind of R&B. I can imagine you liking it”

“When can I hear it?”

He laughed at your eagerness, “We’re still writing it”

You nodded, going back to painting. He would surprise you soon with the ticket he bought you to Seoul, but he wanted to build up to it. Perhaps he could do a grand gesture, or leave you little hints to keep you wondering. He could only imagine how happy you’d be. He could show you his favourite places in the city, introduce you to the boys and you could finally see his life, in all it’s glory. It only felt fair after you’d let him into yours so warmly. He had fit into your life in town so easily, a puzzle piece falling into place, and he hoped he could make it the same for you. Obviously, there’d be less freedom, more restrictions but at least you wouldn’t be a stranger to his lifestyle anymore. Hyunjin took a moment to sip his drink, staring at his own work. getting the courage to say it, “Can I say something cheesy?”

“Yeah?”

He leaned over the webcam, so he could be infinitesimally closer to you, cheeks reddening, “When I get stuck in the middle of the writing process, I think of you, and it really helps”

He watched as you sat on your knees, curious, “What do you think about?”

He flushed, regretting how this made him sound so romantic when he wasn't trying to be, “You know…just our time together. Chan teases me about it. He says you’re my muse or whatever”

He saw your eyes widen, and a deep emotion overwhelmed you. He didn’t see you react more, and he wondered what this meant to you, what he meant to you right now, even so far away. You didn't say anything back. You must be holding it all in, just like him. Maybe you didn’t know how to put your thoughts into words. He couldn't blame you. Even after reading all the poems in the world, Hyunjin didn’t have the words either. Not enough anyway.

»»————-

It was supposed to be an informal gathering to celebrate the album, but it felt more like a full-fledged party. Their manager’s apartment had been completely transformed, no empty floor space as everybody from the company had gathered around for a hurrah. Hyunjin had a few drinks in his system already, enough to get him really going. He stood away from the crowd, tucked into a corner, phone pulled out, typing in a ridiculously cheesy message to you. The party was great, and he was so happy to have finished the album. All that was missing was you. The text started sounding far too cheesy, inspired by the love rot that the poetry books had filled in his brain, and slowly, it became more and more unhinged. The wine Chan brought must have got to his head, but he couldn't stop, all of his thoughts pouring out in a mixture of sentences that didn't really make any sense.

I want you here with me at this party. Fuck, it’s so dull without you. If you were here, we could just sneak off and…I would kiss you. Positively. My manager is here, the scary one, but he doesn’t have to know. Earlier, I was reading a book and there was an English word in it that reminded me of you. Saudade. I looked it up because I was so curious and it said it’s a state of melancholy for a beloved someone or something. I think that explains this ridiculous feeling I have when I think of you. I have it even when I’m not thinking of you. Like last week, when we were recording this one song. It’s like you’re here with me in everything. I guess what I’m saying is, I just want to kiss you really really badly and fuck I’m really drunk so I’m sorry for how this may sound but I just really need to feel you—

The phone was snatched from his hands, Changbin squinting to read the message, “Who are you texting in the middle of our party?”

Hyunjin flushed red. He was really drunk but he still noticed their manager to the side, and hushed, “Keep your voice down, Binnie”

He looked up, eyes wide, “Is this your idea of a sext?”

“What? no— it’s not a sext. I’m not sexting, what the hell”

“You’re like…weirdly poetic when you’re drunk”

Hyunjin closed his eyes, “Just…give me that”

He deleted the message.

It was a bad idea to be sending you drunk messages anyway. He should just call you instead. Yeah. That sounded like a smarter, much better idea. Before he could dial your number, Changbin pulled him to the living room, and Hyunjin let himself be tugged along. Jisung was standing shirtless there, liquid smeared down his chest and abs. He was laughing, hair all messed up, clearly very tipsy, “Come on! Who’s next?”

Hyunjin did not intend to be a part of whatever this was, but Changbin pushed him ahead, “He’s up” But they were surrounded by company employees. Even the girl from the art gallery, Karina, was here and he flushed from the embarrassment. “I don’t even know what we’re doing” Hyunjin chuckled nervously, as Changbin hoisted him up over the table, handing him a quick shot to get the nerves out. Hyunjin downed it in a single sip, the liquid burning his throat. The state of his sobriety stopped him from protesting too much, until Jisung explained, “Body shots, of course. Pick your contender, Jinnie”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, looking around the bunch of people, none of whom he felt comfortable touching him, but he saw a few of the women shy away, “I…I don’t know”

“I’ll do it” Chan laughed, stepping ahead from the crowd, “If that’s okay with you”

Jisung certainly seemed to have enjoyed it, and he wanted to give it a shot. He could be chill with this, but he would definitely blame the alcohol in him for how easily he went down on the table, and how easily he let Chan unbutton his black shirt. The overhead lights were too bright and Hyunjin closed his eyes, and his head was spinning. The music was pounding in his ears, the marble countertop cold to his back.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this” He laughed to himself, swept up in the environment as Changbin dripped tequila over his stomach. The chill liquid tickled him and he immediately squirmed, sending a shiver down his spine. He felt embarrassed for his reaction. Clearly, he was a novice to this party celebration, but he was also enjoying the attention.

“You ready, Jinnie?” Chan asked, looking up at him with a comforting smile. Chan was definitely drunk too in order to pull a stunt like this in front of the employees. They were absolutely loving it though and he could hear them all cheer them on. They never got to see the members in a more unprofessional environment than this one, and Hyunjin hoped none of them changed their opinion of him after this. He gave a quick thumbs up, facing the ceiling as he felt Chan’s mouth near his stomach. He sucked in a breath in anticipation, cheeks flushing from all this attention. He was used to people’s eyes on him, but this was so different and intimate. Somehow, his self-conscious part disappeared just as Chan licked a stripe of tequila up Hyunjin’s torso. He squirmed, a giggle escaping at the ticklish feeling, and Chan held him down, hand on his thigh, laughing, “Stop moving! You’ll get it on the table!”

Hyunjin stilled with the threat of ruining their manager’s table, eyes still closed as Chan finished licking the rest up until his chest, and his stomach was in knots. He couldn’t help but imagine this situation differently. Would you have partaken in this with him? How would that have looked like? If it was you doing this to him, instead of Chan? The little party activity would definitely have turned into something else by the end of it…and he knows he definitely would not be able to resist, not when your tongue was on his stomach and you were so close to him. The image sent a rush of blood through his body, thoughts that he should definitely not be indulging in when his best friend was doing body shots off him, and Hyunjin immediately sat up, bumping his head right into Chan’s. “Ouch!” Chan exclaimed, clutching his forehead, “Careful, Jin!”

“Um, sorry” He swallowed, jumping off the counter, embarrassment lingering from how he'd stupidly turned himself on in front of everyone he knew, “I felt sick”

“No worries” Chan laughed, oblivious to his friend's thoughts, patting his shoulder as everybody around them continued cheering them on, “You did good”

Hyunjin walked away, feeling sticky now, and he tried to wipe off the remaining with a kitchen towel. If it was you, he would have let you go all the way, until every stripe of tequila was gone from his body. And then some more.

He buttoned his shirt up again, hands shaking from the buzz, blood rushing to the parts that needed his attention. He needed to hear your voice. You didn’t even know he was at this party. It was so inconvenient to be so far away, trying to convey all that he felt through a mere text or phone call. He stood to the side, shaky fingers pulling up your contact until he heard your voice on the other end. “Guess what?” Hyunjin grinned.

“What?” Your voice was soft on the other end, so calm, grounding him in his drunkenness. A stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of his party and he could think straight again. Hyunjin smiled, “We finished the album. Like, for real. Every track is actually ready. We’re at my manager’s apartment, all of us, and the whole crew. It feels so fucking good”

He felt excited to hear your reaction. He was grinning ear to ear, as you congratulated him. He’d heard that today many times, but hearing it from you was incomparable. You were proud of him. He giggled, stumbling out of the hallway, blood rushing to his head, “Jisung made me drink…far too much. I liked the wine, though; Chan found it in this cool store, but then me and Binnie…we did body shots, and guess what? Chan fucking did body shots too! It was so insane. He also invited the girl from the art gallery, which is so funny. Apparently, she has connections in our industry too. She’s the daughter of —”

“Wait, you did body shots?” You interrupted him.

Hyunjin nodded, walking around, trying to avoid anybody being able to pick up on his conversation. So many people were in this tiny apartment, and he wished he had more peace and quiet to talk to you. “It was insane. Just like Seungmin told us”

“I…can’t hear you, Hyun” You spoke.

“Sorry” He apologised, walking off towards the balcony, “Can you hear me now?”

“Yeah, I can”

“Fuck. I miss you so fucking much” He mumbled, voice dropping, and the rest of this party was fading from his vision, tunnel vision to you and your voice on the other end, “Why aren’t you here?”

Hyunjin thinks the only way he can stop missing you is if you start visiting him in your dreams. He wonders what sorcery he needs to do for that to happen. Could he visit you in your dreams? So you never grow apart, and find each other every single night. “I miss you too….but you should get back to the party—”

Hyunjin failed to notice Changbin creeping up on him, taking the phone away, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Is that Y/N?”

“Give me the phone back, Changbin!” Hyunjin sighed, all his poetic declarations disappearing into the void. At this point, he thinks he needs to maintain another diary just to write all the things he wishes to say to you but never does.

“Hey!” Changbin was talking to you, “You must be the girl who stole him away from us for months and months. I have every reason to hate you”

“Stop!” Hyunjin exclaimed, realising their managers stood nearby and the commotion had caught their ears, “Don’t announce it to the entire party.” Changbin laughed, “So tell me, on a scale of 1 to 10—”

“Changbin, give me my phone back!” Hyunjin tried to grab it.

“Let me finish!” Changbin laughed. Hyunjin’s head began to ache when he saw Jisung approach their chaos, “Fuck. Is that her?”

“Jisung, can you please ask him to give me my phone back?” He sounded like a broken record, like all his primary functions had ceased and wouldn’t function until he heard your voice again. “Is that Hyunjin’s girlfriend?” Jisung asked, loudly. It was loud enough that their managers heard it, ears perking up and glancing at Hyunjin. One of their managers, Eunwoo raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. This was the first he’d heard of this, and goosebumps rippled up Hyunjin’s neck at what this could mean.

His voice dropped, stepping back towards his meddling friends, “Stop, Jisung. She’s just my friend. How many times do I have to say that, and don’t announce it to the party!”

“Then I can have her?” Changbin interrupted, oblivious to his surroundings. Hyunjin yanked the phone back, and he was pissed, but he wouldn’t blame them. They were only messing about. He let out a breath, “Hey, I’m so sorry. They…took you hostage”

Your voice sounded far away, resigned, “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. You should enjoy the party, Hyun” Panic built up in his throat at the thought of you leaving, “No, no, I called you because I missed you”

“I can’t really even hear you,” You said, crushing his heart and soul to irreparable pieces. Maybe he was being dramatic, but perhaps he needed you to breathe, “We can just talk tomorrow. Please just have a good time tonight, okay?”

Hyunjin was ready to protest, bear his heart out to keep you a little while longer. What was the point of celebrating his success if he couldn't share it with you right now? Isn't that why he'd pushed himself so hard this time? So he could impress you with all the songs he'd written with only you in mind. He’d leave the party if he had to, just so you wouldn’t go. Before he could declare his insanity of wanting to talk to you, Eunwoo stepped closer to him. His eyes were narrowed, a tell-tale sign, disapproving head tilt. Hyunjin had lost the opportunity, and he said, “All right. I’ll call you later”

With no qualms about destroying the party's vibe, Eunwoo asked curiously, “Who are you talking to?”

“Nobody” Hyunjin panicked, hanging up. He shoved the phone into his pocket, and it burned into him. Eunwoo sighed, “I heard Jisung mention a girlfriend. Is there something you want to share?”

He shook his head, unease settling into him or maybe he was just about to throw the fuck up, “Can we…not talk about this right now? I mean, we’re at a party”

Eunwoo stared at him, as if dissecting all of Hyunjin's deepest, darkest secrets, gaze burning through him. Then he nodded with a smile, “Of course, Hyunjin. You should celebrate”

Hyunjin’s nerves calmed down and he began walking away. Maybe now he could return to enjoying the rest of the night. But of course, Eunwoo stopped him, hand over his shoulder “We’ll talk about it first thing in the morning though. I want to see you seven AM, in my office”

Hyunjin suppressed a groan, bile rising up his throat at what this could possibly mean, “Oh. Okay”

Eunwoo patted his shoulder, before walking back to the party, “Don’t be late, Hwang”

»»————-

He definitely didn’t feel human stepping into the office, a mere three hours later. He hadn’t got any sleep. He had just enough time to head home, shower, and wipe the remnants of tequila off his stomach before heading here. The body shots didn’t sound like a great idea now. His shirt was sticky and ruined. His head hurt, and he was surprised that Eunwoo wasn’t hungover. He’d probably gouged on hangover soup last night, and he sat in a crisp suit-and-tie across the table. He looked up at him, cheery smile, “Morning, Hwang”

Hyunjin sat in the uncomfortable office chair, squinting against the lights that hurt his sensitive eyes, “Good morning…”

“Did you have a good time at the party last night?”

Hyunjin nodded, putting on a smile, “Yes. It was nice”

Eunwoo was their nicest manager, he’s the only reason Hyunjin had been able to go back home and he certainly liked him the most. He was miles better than Kim Soohyun, the guy who basically decided Hyunjin’s life. But now…it seemed like Eunwoo had been sent by his higher-ups to sweet-talk Hyunjin, “You certainly seemed to enjoy it, but sadly, I didn’t see too much of you. We would have liked to get a drink with you”

“Ah, I was with the boys most of the night” He answered. Could this meeting not have been an email? His head was pounding and he couldn’t focus on anything.

Eunwoo tilt his head, picking up on his irritation, “Say it. Whatever’s on your mind”

“No disrespect. I…just don’t understand why we need to talk about this right now”

“Why? Because it’s a Sunday and most people don’t have to go to work today, or because you drank too much last night?” He laughed, leaning back in his chair. There was a stress ball in his hands and Eunwoo kept tossing it back and forth.

Hyunjin bit his lip, “No, I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired”

“Because it may be a day off for everyone in the country, but not for you. I’m sure you’re aware of that. After all, superstars don’t get to where they are by slacking off”

Hyunjin frowned, “I understand. Is there a specific reason you wanted to see me today?”

Eunwoo put down the stress ball in his hands, expression suddenly turning serious, “Look, kid. If I could turn a blind eye to this, I would. Trust me. I hate doing this as much as you hate hearing it, but Kim Soohyun was at the party too. He overheard things. I’m accountable to him, and you’re accountable to me”

Hyunjin sank into his seat, “So…am I in trouble or something?”

Eunwoo clasped his hands, “Depends…did you do something to get you into trouble?”

“No, I didn’t, Eunwoo”

He leaned forward on the desk, hands folded under his chin, “There was quite a lot of talk about a girlfriend last night. You never mentioned that to me”

Hyunjin let out a sigh, “There’s no girlfriend. The boys were dicking around”

Eunwoo gave him a tight-lipped smile, “Then, who were you talking to? On the phone when I saw you? Surely your parents wouldn't be awake that late”

“Just…a friend from back home. They’re not important”

“Look, Hyunjin. I hate to pry. Your personal life is entirely yours but not when it concerns your image or the company, or god forbid, the media. If you are dating somebody, you have to let me know so I can be prepared for when it eventually gets out to the media”

Hyunjin’s head began to hurt exponentially more and maybe he should never have called you last night, “I’m not dating anybody, Eunwoo”

Eunwoo nodded. Clearly, he didn’t believe him. He’d known and managed Hyunjin for years. He'd known him since he was fifteen. He could see right through him and wished he was a better liar. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that”

Hyunjin sighed, sitting up straighter as if that could convince him better, “She’s just an old friend, from back home”

Eunwoo raised an eyebrow, and then leaned back in his chair, “Okay, I’ll believe you. I hope you’ve already passed along the contract to her”

He frowned, “What, the NDA? I’m not dating her, why does she have to sign it?”

“Well yes, you’re not, but clearly you and her are close if you’re drunk calling her from a work party. She could have the wrong idea, if she goes around telling people a different story…that’ll be a problem”

“She is not going to tell anyone”

“You don’t know what girls can be capable of to get fame. An argument with you, if someone bribes her, if she sees any opportunity, she could go to the media—”

“Y/N is not like that” Hyunjin interrupted, a surge of bitterness ripping through at the assumptions.

Eunwoo’s eyebrows shot up, “Y/N…that’s her name”

He wished he could take back that information. It was too late. He released a breath, “Look, you’re not making her sign any contracts. We’re not romantically involved. There are no legal obligations. Am I not even allowed to have fucking friends anymore?”

Eunwoo closed his eyes, “Don’t get angry on me, Hyunjin. You’re not stupid. This is how it’s been for years. The rules won’t change for you. It’s going to be difficult to manage these rumors after you already took half a year off to yourself and with Jisung’s trial and Chan and Kairi’s…whatever the hell they’re doing. You say you’re not dating this girl, I’m going to trust you on that. But if at any point that changes or the girl goes to the news, the company will have to step in. For example, she talks to somebody about her…special friendship with you. Kim Soohyun won’t think twice before suing her for defamation”

Hyunjin saw red, and he clenched his fists as to not react. Defamation? “I get it, Eunwoo”

He nodded, putting a document on the table and sliding it to him, “If anything changes, you have to let me know. I have to be ready to release a statement”

“What, a statement…for what?” Hyunjin stared at the files. An NDA and a press release statement. This was absolutely insane. Nothing had even happened, and they were preparing for the worst case scenario. No, they were waiting for it.

“You’ve been in this industry long enough, Hwang. We must inform the public and fanbase…if you’re in a relationship. If we keep it to ourselves and it gets out anyway, the backlash would be immense. Now, don’t worry. We can always try to keep her identity secret if you’re worried about her safety and with threats and everything, but—”

Hyunjin stood up in panic, blood rushing to his head, “That’s not happening. There’s not gonna be any threats to her…or announcements”

Eunwoo looked up at him, blinking blankly, “Okay… I appreciate the sentiment but that’s not entirely in your hands. The press tour starts today. All eyes are going to be on the four of you. The whole damn country is talking about you, Hyunjin. We can’t afford a scandal. Kim Soohyun has me in a tight grip. I have faith in you that nothing happens to throw that off”

He swallowed, nails digging into his palm from his emotions, “Yeah. It won’t”

Clearly, his plans of bringing you to the city to visit him were down the fucking drain. He’d be lucky if he could even get a phone call with you anymore.

“Also if you’re using the company phone to stay in contact with her, I suggest you change that. It shouldn’t be traced back to us”

Hyunjin nodded, and he wasn’t even dating you but the worst was already happening. This was what he’d feared the whole time. There was no point. There was a bitter taste in his mouth and he asked, “Is that going to be all?”

Eunwoo nodded, “You should take these documents with you, just in case. HR were happy to print them out for me this morning. They also told me you’ve been hanging out in the romance section a lot in the company library”

So he had absolutely no privacy anymore either. Hyunjin snatched the folder, carelessly holding the files in his hand, with no intention of ever using them. He wouldn’t let the press statement or NDA document anywhere near you. In fact, they’d be tossed in the trash as soon as he was home. He headed for the door and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He needed to decompress. He couldn’t show up to practice this pissed and this wound up. He’d explode, and the boys didn’t deserve that.

Eunwoo’s voice stopped him, “Oh, and congratulations, Hyunjin”

Hyunjin turned around, gripping the doorknob in blind fury. It felt like a taunt, a joke. There was nothing to congratulate him for. He couldn’t even keep his friends close without it exploding into a big deal. What did he even have to be grateful for? He looked right at Eunwoo, and his lack of sleep made him more irritable, “For…what?”

Eunwoo smiled warmly, his entire demeanour changing, “The album pre-sales are the biggest we’ve ever seen. You’re a global superstar now. You should feel very, very lucky, kid"

»»————-

“Can you stand still for me, please?” The assistant responsible for touching up Hyunjin’s face asked. He nodded, letting her put rosy tint on his cheeks, blending it with the contour. He’d been here for what easily felt like hours, and through the mirror he could see that Changbin was just about done with his makeup.

The week leading up to the release was always the hardest. Somebody tugged at his hair and he resisted the urge to grimace. They didn’t deserve his terrible mood; they were only doing their job. The hairstylist apologised, noticing Hyunjin’s sour expression, “Sorry. Eunwoo said we need to get started on your hair right now; the other boys are already ready.” Hyunjin nodded, letting himself be manhandled by three different women as they struggled to put his hair into braids, “Have you been using the product we gave you?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hair’s thinning out, especially the bleached roots” The lady mumbled, disappointed.

“Yeah, I have” Truthfully he’d forgotten, a grave mistake for someone in his industry, but he’d been too caught up in everything else. His stomach rumbled and he hadn’t had time to grab breakfast this morning, so he looked around until he spotted one of their assistants, “Rowoon, could you please get me some honey butter chips—”

“Stay still, please” The makeup assistant repeated. Hyunjin straightened up, speaking through his teeth, “…or ramyeon?”

Rowoon looked at him through the mirror, eyebrows shooting up, “Um. Are you sure? You have a pre-recording tomorrow”

“I…haven’t eaten since last night” Hyunjin replied.

“Last time you ate it…your face got pretty swollen, and you were pretty beat up about not looking great in the music show” Rowoon said, grimly smiling.

Hyunjin nodded, gut hurting at that memory of his swollen face, “Right. Never mind. Forget it. Thank you”

“How long are we filming for today?” Jisung asked, adjusting his headset in the back. Rowoon looked between them, “Well, you guys are booked until 4 PM”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at his phone. 6:43 am. Fuck.

Changbin walked by, patting Hyunjin on the shoulder, slipping toffees into his palm, “That’ll fill you up before the interviews”. The candy looked less than appetising, but it was his only option, and he reached to eat some, just as the lady stopped him to apply lip tint to his mouth. Today was going to be a long fucking day.

They were almost done with his hair, braiding it at the top of his head, secured with glitter barrettes. It was an elaborate hairstyle, and he feared he’d ruin it if he moved. It was like walking on eggshells, like his slightest touch would crumble things. Well, everything already seemed to be crumbling. Hyunjin hadn’t been in the best of moods since his talk with Eunwoo, and the possibilities of how everything could go wrong loomed over him. The worst he’d feared for was already happening, things set in motion and no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop it from worsening. The company knew your name. They knew of your existence. They’d already restricted him. There’s no way in hell Hyunjin would be able to bring you to Seoul, much less meet you in this city without a hundred documents or cameras being thrown at you. Slowly, all his happiness that had been built up carefully and precisely, was turning into bitterness.

“Have you seen Chan?” Rowoon asked, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Hyunjin shook his head. He’d been sitting on this chair for forty five minutes straight. How the hell would he know where Chan was? The hunger and frustration was getting to him, and he shook his head, calming himself down.

“May I go now?” He looked up at the hair assistant.

She nodded, “Just no quick movements. The hairspray is still settling in”

Now that he could properly look at himself, it looked good. Having longer hair always set him at the mercy of experimentation for new styles, and often crazy accessories. He smiled at them, pushing the chair back to stand, “Of course. Thank you so much for your hard work. It’s beautiful”

In other circumstances, he’d snap a picture and send you, but…he’d been on eggshells with you too. Inadvertently, the conversation with Eunwoo had created distance. Hyunjin hated that because none of this was your fault. You shouldn’t be subject to this silence from him, but he was constantly looking over his shoulder, paranoid that he’d be caught and it was getting tiring. His carelessness at the party had led to this. He wanted to fully blame himself for not having any self-control when he drunk called you. Yet, a part of him knew that even without the doomed phone call, somehow everybody would have found out anyway. It was only a matter of time. Things never stayed stable for too long in his life.

He walked into the hallway, hoping to find an empty room. There were usually a few reserved for stage props. He could have a few moments to himself, just to talk to you. That could calm him down, and he could apologise for his distance. He didn’t know how he’d begin to explain what was happening to you. To anybody else, it’d seem like he was pushing you away and he hoped you understood that it was never his intention.

A door was ajar, sliver of light leaking out into the hallway. He stopped in his tracks, familiar voices inside. He didn’t meant to eavesdrop, but they were so loud, “What do you want me to say? I’m doing absolutely everything I can! Jisung’s trial is already—”

“Don’t bring Jisung into this…” Kairi’s exasperated voice interrupted, “What’s going on with him is different. You always do this, Chris! Why are you making this your problem?”

“I’m sorry? They’re my bandmates. They’re my friends. Of course I’m going to take their burden!”

“Jisung is an adult, he’s perfectly capable of—“

“I made a promise to all of them, Kairi. I’m not jumping ship when they need me the most” Chan sounded so frustrated.

She groaned, “I’m not asking you to jump ship. But Chris you haven’t slept in three fucking days! You’re…barely eating. This is not living”

Hyunjin didn’t know that, and his blood ran cold at the information as Chan replied, “This isn’t your problem Kairi. It’s…my problem to deal with. I have to make sacrifices—”

“I had to quit my job because of you, Chris!” She trailed off, Hyunjin’s eyes widened, and he flinched at the aggressive tone. He wasn’t new to their arguments, especially over the last month, but none were like this. This felt like the culmination of something that had been building for months, even years. Kairi was always so sweet, and her volume returned to normal, “I mean…I had to quit because of us. I made sacrifices too. So yes, it is my problem”

Chan’s voice dropped, “Well, I don’t want you to make sacrifices for me”

“That’s what people do when they love each other. I’m sorry but that’s just a reality you’re going to have to accept Chris”

“Do we…have to talk about this now? The interviews start soon, and I can’t focus on them—”

“I’m so worried about you, Channie. I don’t know how you’re going to make it through the morning”

Chan groaned, “I don’t know either, but I have to do it for the boys. I can’t…let them down”

Hyunjin’s chest ached now, a different kind of pain settling in. Why were they all making sacrifices for each other? They were only in their twenties, pushing for their dreams; this instability shouldn’t be normal.

Kairi sighed, “See, that’s exactly the problem. Why do you always take the blame for everything? Even when Hyunjin was gone, you made it your mission to do damage control for him. Not everything has to be your burden”

At the mention of his name, he really should walk away and learn to mind his own business, but he couldn’t help but overhear, feet rooted to the floor as Chan’s voice softened with a new desperation and frustration, “They mean everything to me. You know that”

“They do to me too, Chris. I know this is a horrible time”

“Hyunjin?” He heard Jisung’s voice call for him in the hallway. He needed to head back. An entire press and interview team was waiting for them, only a few rooms over and if he listened any further, he’d be in no state of mind to answer questions. But of course as he stepped away, he picked up on the last bit of conversation, “Did you know HR gave Hyunjin the papers?” Chan laughed bitterly, “They’re already prepared for the worst”

Kairi sighed, and he could hear her footsteps as she moved closer to Chan. Only dread filled his stomach as he heard the next sentence out of her mouth, “That’s their job. You have to not make it your problem this time, Chan, I’m…so worried about your health. And that’s Hyunjin’s responsibility. He knew what he was getting into when he started seeing her. It was bound to happen. It always does.”

Hyunjin didn’t stick around to hear Chan’s response.

He had heard enough.

»»————-

“Hyun, can I come see you?”

The question was expected, but Hyunjin was shocked when you said it anyway. He froze, choking at his words. A few days ago, he would have been overjoyed at this. After all, he’d already bought the tickets and made all the arrangements for you to come see him, but…things had changed. It was too risky. He didn’t have the heart to tell you about his conversation with Eunwoo. What was the point after all? Hyunjin let out an awkward fucking chuckle, “W-what?”

“Um, sorry that sounds out of nowhere. I just…I really want to meet you. I miss you, and it sounds like you’re going through a lot. Maybe it’ll help.” Your voice was far away, drenched in longing.

It wasn’t out of nowhere, it was only what Hyunjin had been planning since forever. But nothing went to his fucking plans, “I…I’m not sure, Y/N”

Your voice deflated, disappointed, “Yeah?”

His heart broke, but it had become increasingly clear that it would be the dumbest idea ever to have you come visit. If anybody saw them…if anything got out…he wasn’t prepared to deal with that, “Yeah. Fuck, I’m so sorry but I…I don’t think I can meet you. Right now, with everything that’s going on, I honestly don’t have the time and…”

“Yeah. I understand” Of course you understood, no matter how shitty Hyunjin kept behaving. For once, he wished you’d actually yell at him.

“I’m sorry” He swallowed, and he could feel the life being sucked out of him.

Your response was sweet as usual, “It’s okay. It’s bad timing”

“It’s bad timing” He repeated, and Hyunjin suddenly had a horrible feeling that maybe this was the last straw. Things had slipped out of his control. Soon, eventually, you would too.

»»————-

The seasons were changing, but flowers bloomed all year long in Seoul, and so Hyunjin had prepared early. He’d bought the Camellia seeds so he could grow winter flowers on his own, and see their life unfold before his eyes. Even if everything else seemed to be falling apart, at least he could try to be consistent and paint his feelings away. The yellow falling leaves and orange tree cover taken over the city inspired his many paintings. Usually, you’d send him pictures of every little detail from back home, especially of changing landscapes and beautiful natural sights of town, but you hadn't shared anything the past week. He wondered what autumn would look like in Daejon. Now that his conversations with you were thinning out, he had an irrational fear that he’d never find out.

“Everything okay?”

“Sorry?” Hyunjin snapped out of it, and Changbin looked at him, concerned. “You’re in your head again. Is something bothering you?”

Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut, and sighed, “No, I’m good”

Changbin clearly wasn’t convinced, because his expression softened, and he reached a hand out, “Hey, why don’t you go wait in the car? I’ll bring the Americano out to you”

But he was so past being taken care of or worried about. So Hyunjin shook his head. The idea of waiting in the car sounded absolutely horrible right now. He needed fresh air, and he was perfectly capable of getting his own cup of coffee.

“No, I got this. Why don’t you let me get this for us?” Hyunjin asked, pushing his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. It was getting colder by the day, and even in this temperature-controlled cafe, he was cold to the bone. Changbin grinned, shooting him a cheesy wink, “Well, I’ll never say no to being treated by you”

A smile tugged at Hyunjin’s lips. Changbin could find the brevity in each situation. Hyunjin walked up to the cashier, placing an order for their usual. “Could I have two coffees, black, please?” He asked. The cashier, a girl probably in her 20s, smiled wide at Hyunjin, “Is that all?”

He glanced at the pastry counter, and everything looked so appetising. Yet he was on a diet and couldn’t afford to do this. Everybody would be so disappointed in him, “No, that’s all”

“Sorry, but do…I know you?” She asked, punching in his order. Hyunjin’s brows shot up, and he thought he’d concealed his identity enough with the hat, but clearly the rest of his expensive outfit was a dead give-away that was he was some big shot. They had another schedule after this, so they were dressed up and he was draped head-to-toe in luxury items, “Um. I just have one of those faces, I guess”

The girl didn’t look convinced, “Right…I’ll have your coffee out in a few minutes”

He stepped aside, joining his friend to the side. Changbin had a huge grin on his face still and Hyunjin was thankful to have his positivity surround him, “That chick was totally flirting with you”

“What?” Hyunjin shook his head, pushing the receipt in his coat pocket, “She barely said two words. You think everyone’s flirting with me”

“Well, why are her and all her friends giggling and looking at you?” Changbin rolled his eyes. Hyunijn looked back, and sure enough, the cashier and her coworkers were looking at him. Maybe they shouldn’t have come in here today. It was too close to the comeback. He shook that thought from his head. He was desperate for coffee.

“Excuse me, sir? Your coffee is ready” The girl said, and Hyunjin stepped back up. She was smiling, flushing red under her uniform cap, and as she handed them the cups he noticed a piece of paper stuck to it. Changbin glanced at it, eyes widening as they stepped away, “Is that her number?”

“I don’t know” Hyunjin mumbled, unfurling the paper. This definitely was the most romantic way he’d been asked out. It was her Instagram handle, and a note was stuck to it, Hope you liked the coffee, handsome. Maybe we could get a stronger drink later tonight?

“Wow” Hyunjin’s brows shot up, and he pushed the note into his pocket too. It’d be thrown away later, “That’s…certainly a bold move”

“Please tell me you’re going on that date”

Hyunjin shook his head, amused at how light-hearted dates and budding love could be for Changbin, “I…have plans”

“What plans? You’re a recluse”

“I was going to talk to Y/N tonight—” He trailed off, eyes landing on someone familiar in the crowd. Hyunjin’s breath hitched.

It was a while since he’d seen her. Years, at this point.

She was sat at a far table, laughing over a cup of coffee and croissants. She seemed better than she had in years. Happier than she’d ever been around Hyunjin. Right now, she was glowing. The cause of her happiness seemed to be a boy sitting across her. A guy dressed in flannel and suit pants, chunky glasses on his face. Hyunjin couldn’t look away as the boy leaned forward, kissing her cheek quickly. She smiled, and then the cashier called out, “Coffee for Yujin”

She kissed the boy before standing up. She walked towards them, and Hyunjin was still standing stupidly at the counter. She noticed him, eyes widening, coming to a stop. Almost instantly, the life drained from her face.

A stark difference from a moment ago, when she was so happy. Hyunjin didn’t know what to do; he raised a hand; a small, non-threatening wave. Things between them had ended in peace, after all. Yujin’s face traversed many expressions before she settled on a calm look, “Hyunjin. Wow…hi. This…is such a surprise. Hello…Changbin”

Hyunjin nodded, hoping this interaction wasn’t being watched, “It’s…been a while, Yujin”

She was still beautiful, smiling to diffuse the tension, “I didn’t expect to see you around here”

Hyunjin nodded, hands squeezing his coffee cup, “Yeah. I…don’t come here too often”

She nodded, familiarity returning to her gaze, “Ah. Too easy to get recognised?”

Hyunjin nodded along, even though that wasn’t the reason. He hated how his life seemed to revolve around his fame, and not his choices, like maybe he didn’t come here because he just liked another coffee shop more. Changbin took over, noticing the awkward shift in Hyunjin, “Um, so how have you been, Yujin? You look good!”

She smiled at him, “I’m great. I’m actually doing really well… I, uh, moved out of the city, closer to the outskirts”

“Really?” Hyunjin asked. He wondered why she would make such a decision. She’d trained with him for years, until she’d suddenly dropped out of the idol industry, but back when Hyunjin knew her and dated her, they had the same ambitions. The same thirst to be recognized, to be respected, and known for their talent. That’s why they had got along so well.

“Hmm, the city got too much for me sometimes. Anyway after I met Haru, it just seemed like the right choice to make”

“Haru. Is that…your boyfriend?” Hyunjin asked, noticing the boy back at the table.

“Well…” She giggled, lifting her hand up to show them the glittering, gorgeous ring, “Fiancé, actually”

Changbin’s eyes widened, “You’re engaged?”

She nodded, a dimple in her cheek, “Haru asked me a few months ago”

Hyunjin forced himself to smile, but there was a deep pit in his stomach, recalling the conversations they used to have back in their days as trainees. They were never that serious to talk about weddings, or marriage. They both knew it was only an attraction between them and would stay that way, but he remembered a specific conversation where Yujin had said that the only disadvantage of becoming famous was the love life they’d be giving up. He was happy for her now. She hadn’t had to give it up after all, “Congratulations, Yujin. That’s…really good”

“Never too early to settle down, am I right?” She laughed, “What about you, Jinnie? How have you been?”

“I’m…good too. So…what are you doing these days?” He redirected the conversation back, curiosity brimming at him. What did someone do once they’d left the idol life? They were free to do absolutely anything, the choices were limitless. He’d never known a life without rules. He’d been training since he was fourteen, after all. She shrugged, “I’m doing a bit of everything. I volunteered at an organisation for a while, I tested my hand at photography, modelling even, but then I realised I really don’t want to be around cameras of any kind” She laughed, “I teach now, though”

“That sounds really nice, Yujin. I’m glad you get to do something you love”

“Well, you too! You’re absolutely thriving, Hyunjin. I see you every day with all your brand deals and advertisements. Does it ever get tiring being pretty all the time?”

Hyunjin smiled, “It’s…part of my job”

“Well, you deserve it. I remember how focused you used to be. You were my motivation, you know? It should have been obvious that life wasn’t for me. I hated everything. My favourite part of the academy used to be seeing you” At those words, the boy, Haru joined her, slipping an arm around her waist, “Everything all right, baby?”

She glanced at him, “Shit, I totally forgot to get the coffee. Just ran into some old friends”

Haru laughed, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it for us, babe.” He kissed her again, with no hesitance of being seen by so many people, and went to pick up the drinks. Changbin conversed with Haru, as Yujin asked Hyunjin, “I read that you went on a break for a couple of months. That must have been…wow, relieving?”

He swallowed, “Yeah, it was really good, but…I’m back to work now”

“That must’ve been nice. I don’t know how you do it, Hyunnie. I remember when we training together, you wouldn’t leave the practice room for days. Still the same?”

Hyunjin nodded. Yujin had changed so much from when he’d last met her. Had he changed at all?

Haru smiled at him, “Thank you for taking good care of her then. She tells me about those days a lot. It must have been thrilling to keep it a secret from everyone”

Hyunjin shook his head, smiling politely at him, “It was terrifying actually”

They laughed. Haru pulled Yujin into his side again as she said, “Well…this was unexpected, but if your schedule permits, you and the boys are always welcome to the engagement party. It’s the end of December”

Changbin sighed dramatically, “Unfortunately, we’re working the whole month”. Yujin frowned, “That’s terrible….I would suggest catching up after that but…me and Haru are going to be gone for three months”

“Oh, where are you going?” Changbin asked.

“Backpacking through Europe” She responded chirpily, “Haru’s really into art and sculptures, so we have this silly idea to visit every museum in Paris”

“That sounds really good” Hyunjin smiled, but he was drowning so deep in his thoughts he could barely focus. What a nice life. It was strange, the last time he saw her, she was in the same boat as him. Training to be an idol, like him. But their paths had diverged, and envy settled in him. He was so lucky to have his life, but he wished he could just take off like that too on vacation, no questions asked. Changbin’s phone buzzed and he apologised, ”Um sorry to stop this, but we gotta go. Eunwoo’s calling us back in to work”

Hyunjin nodded, “Oh, of course. It was great to meet you Yujin, and you too, Haru. Congratulations again, on the engagement. I hope you have a good time in Europe. I’m really happy for you”

Suddenly the expensive bracelets he was wearing felt like shackles around Hyunjin’s wrists.

»»————-

A fire burned within him, a quiet inferno consuming his peace. He couldn’t stop thinking about Yujin and what her life was like now. She’d rebuilt it to something so special. She would never have that peace of life if she’d stayed in her company or with Hyunjin. He sat at the company table, signing albums, and it was a monotonous task so his thoughts kept drifting.

“Jinnie. Your phone” Jisung mumbled, poking him with a pen. Hyunjin lift his head to see it buzzing across the table. You were calling. He took a breath, walking out to talk to you. You were the only thing that could make this horrible fucking day better. He hoped you weren’t still upset at him rejecting your offer to come to the city. Hopefully, you’d understand. Everything was too treacherous. Hyunjin…was too treacherous for you right now. Still, he listened to you about your day, and how you’d apparently made up with Yongbok. He smiled, lowering his voice as employees passed him in the corridor, “What did you guys do?”

As you told him everything he wished he was doing with you instead, Hyunjin faded into thought again until you said, “Um…and something else happened. When we were talking, Yongbok said something…He told me he loves me. That he has his entire life”

He wished he was more surprised.

A cynical stupid part of him was happy at this. So Yongbok finally told you. Bitterness settled into his veins, scorching him from the inside out, and Hyunjin found himself thinking that maybe with Yongbok, you could finally have the life he couldn’t give you.

When he got home that night, he realised the hydrangeas in his room had withered away completely.

»»————-

He woke to fresh flowers on his desk. Baby blue, lilac, pink and white. All shapes and colors. The scent is what woke him up. It starkly contrasted to the dying hydrangeas that he still hadn’t thrown away. He’d been meaning to draw them in that state. A cruel render of their destruction.

The comeback was in a few days. Their album would finally be out to the public. There was so much to do today, and he lay in bed just a little longer to enjoy the temporary peace. A press conference was underway soon, and he would have to put on his best self. It was going to be live-streamed and there were no doubts that he’d be asked about the hiatus. He worried if the music would be well received, if it would surpass everyone’s expectations. Hyunjin finally crawled out of bed and read the little notes attached to the bouquets. Congratulations on your 4th successful studio album. Never forget how lucky and blessed you are~!

He walked into his kitchen, sweatpants hanging low, sleep clouding him, to see even more flowers on the island. “Who sent these?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

Jisung looked sorrowful though, ignoring the bouquets entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Hyunjin asked, the worst scenarios playing in his head.

He swallowed, “They broke up”

His stomach was a pit at the news, “When?”

“Late last night. Chan…still hasn’t come home yet. We have no idea where he is”

“What? How do you know they broke up?”

“Kairi texted Binnie. She was worried. We can’t find him anywhere…”

“I’m going to call him" Hyunjin said, rushing to his room.

“We already tried that, Jinnie” Changbin spoke, “We’ve been trying since an hour”

“Maybe he’ll pick up my call” Hyunjin hoped, as the ringer rang in his ear. After eight rings, Chan did pick up. “Hello, Chan?” Hyunjin asked, voice soft. Jisung and Changbin moved closer, eyes wide as they observed him. Chan sounded low on the other end, “Jinnie…? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m okay. Where are you, Channie? Are you all right?”

“I’m…fine. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time for the conference”

“No, can I please come get you? Let me” Hyunjin pleaded. There was a pause, and a sigh and then Chan said, “I’m at the old dorm”

“I’ll be right there” Hyunjin hung up.

“No, we’re coming with” Jisung said, stepping ahead.

“Guys. Let me…just do this on my own. Eunwoo would kill us if none of us are here. Me and Chan will make it to the press conference, I promise”

Hyunjin couldn’t drive fast enough. For a second, he worried he would forget the way to their old house but it was embedded into him. It’s where they’d had their whole beginning, and Hyunjin got there in record time. Kairi meant everything to Chan, and he couldn’t imagine what he’d be feeling right now. Chan was always there for him, and he felt personally responsible to make sure he was all right. The old dorm building looked run-down; it had been falling apart for years, even when the boys lived there, and he chose the stairs over the rusty old elevator. On the fourth floor, there was an alcove. It was hidden behind a door that was sometimes locked, but he pushed it open. Chan was sitting inside, on the window seat, a soft smile on his face when he saw Hyunjin approach.

“Just you?” He tilt his head, seeing nobody else follow, “I thought the cavalry would show up”

Hyunjin shot him a soft smile, leaning against the door, “Just me….can I join you?”

Chan pat the empty seat next to him, and Hyunjin sat down. This is where Chan was always found, back when they still lived here. It’s where he came to think. To write their greatest hits. To ponder about life’s biggest mysteries. It was always his place, and Hyunjin could see why he loved it so much. It was hidden, like a secret room. Ignoring the cobweb in the corner, it was cosy. A faded old painting hung on the wall, rickety floorboards that probably hid treasures inside, a window that looked out onto an alley. The alley was something special in itself. It was between two apartment buildings, and a little bakery was carved into the side of the building. The few times Hyunjin sat here with Chan, he’d seen bakers arrive at three in the morning, loading powdered sugar and other ingredients in, creating storms and clouds of sugar. It was always a beautiful sight.

“What happened, Chan?” Hyunjin ended up asking, cutting to the chase. They both knew why he was here. Chan swallowed, looking wistful, “I’m fine, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m going to be okay. I just needed…a day to let the sadness out”

“You can take more than that”

“Not really. I can’t afford to, not this week. I gotta put on my best self”

“We’ll understand if you don’t.” Hyunjin frowned, admirable of Chan’s resolve, “If you want to talk about it, I’m here” Chan glanced at him, a smile on his face, “I know you are, Jinnie. You’re actually the best, and the worst person to talk to this about”

“Why the worst?” Hyunjin frowned.

Chan laughed, “You don’t want to hear the good part first?”

“No…”

“The worst because…I know what you felt about me and Kairi… I feel responsible for how you see the world, crazy as that sounds. I know you had to hear our arguments the past few weeks, I’m sorry about that. I feel like I took away all your hope.”

Hyunjin swallowed, “It’s not your fault. I’ve had minimal hope to begin with”

Chan laughed, loudly, “God, Jinnie, that’s really fucked up, you know? It shouldn’t be this way. We should be out there, showing our girls the best time”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for your break up, Chan,” Hyunjin emphasized.

“Wow. Breakup. That sounds insane to say” He breathed in a sigh, as it was finally settling in, “To think I was going to ask her to marry me in a few months”

Hyunjin felt emotional. He’d known and adored their relationship for the longest time, “I’m so sorry, Chan. I don’t know what to say, I wish I could…make this better”

“You don’t have to. I’m…happy you’re here. Kim Soohyun asked to see my phone last night. I don’t know why, but I deleted every conversation with Kairi. I suppose I panicked. I shouldn’t have done that, because now all my best memories with her are just that…memories”

Hyunjin swallowed, and maybe all the reading poetry had rotted his brain. His heart was starting to shrivel, just like the Hydrangeas that were out of bloom. Once he got home, maybe it was the right move to erase his chat history with you too. A small way of shielding himself from the damage that could follow. His memories with you would be lost, but his carelessness would only hurt the boys more.

Chan reminded him far too much of you, the way he held onto memories, objects, and tangible things with an iron grip. He recalled how sad you’d felt erasing the little star you’d drawn from Hyunjin’s face. It had meant so much to you. Maybe he was becoming more like you every day too, which is why the dying flowers still rested on Hyunjin’s desk when he should have thrown them out weeks ago. He ended up saying something that only halfway made sense, “I want to say that…the things we’re meant for will always come back to us, but… I stray further from that thought every day, so I would be lying if I tried to convince you of that”

Chan smiled sadly, and he held something within his hands, “You’re the most romantic person I know, even without trying to be”

Hyunjin laughed, bitterly, “I think it’s safe to say I’m doomed”

Chan turned to him, “Don’t say that, Jinnie”

Hyunjin shook his head, facing him, “I came here for you, not to talk about me…you know you have me, always, right?”

“I know” Chan leaned in, wrapping his arm around Hyunjin. It was an awkward half-hug but Hyunjin relaxed into the embrace, whispering, “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out with Kairi”

Chan pulled away, a sincere smile on his face, “Thank you. We should probably get going if we want to make it in time for the conference”

“You’re right” Hyunjin nodded, but they made no attempt to move, trying to lengthen this short-lived peace.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” Chan muttered, and it’s only then that Hyunjin realised what he held in his palm. A diamond ring. The one he was going to propose to Kairi with.

“What?”

“What our lives are like. Do you never question that?” Chan asked. Hyunjin had never heard him talk like this, and he couldn’t comprehend this. Chan had built them up from the ground up, worked his ass off to get them to where they are. In fact, he couldn’t bear to see this side of him. He shouldn’t be questioning all his hard work, or that all would have been for nothing. Out of all people in the world, Chan couldn't be the one to lose hope. He was their rock.

He felt for Chan. So much. Yet, this train of thought was so dangerous. What would happen to them if they all started hating their job? They had never been forced into this career, they’d made their choices of their own volition, even if it was done as a teenager who didn’t know what he’d be giving up, but they’d gained so much too. The lifestyle Hyunjin led…people would kill for. 14-year-old him would kill for this. And he’d be so proud of him for it too. So, why was he questioning everything now?

“No, I don’t” Hyunjin said. It was a lie, but he would sell it to Chan, for his sake, “We’re doing something impossible for most people to even imagine in the world. The impact that you have on people is…unreal. Millions of people love you, and you inspire them. You inspire me to work harder everyday. So, I don’t question if it’s worth it, and you shouldn’t either, Chan”

Something in Chan’s eyes changed, as if he had never expected him to say this. Hyunjin, the romantic, would never have said that. Love felt like the core of his life. He was hungry for it, but there was more than one kind of love.

So later that week, when Hyunjin stared at his phone in his hands, it was filled up with memories of you. Every phone call, each picture you’d sent him, each sweet thought he’d scribbled in his notes but never had the chance to send you. The press tour had already begun, and the boys were knee-depth in stress, and Hyunjin could never let himself add to that. Kairi had talked about sacrifices, and he finally understood it. Maybe it was cowardly to never explain to you what was happening, but it was easier. He didn’t have the heart to delete the past few months, so he took Eunwoo’s advice and changed his number instead.

Sorrow settled in his chest as Hyunjin realised that he would go to the ends of the earth for you, but perhaps that wasn’t still enough. He wasn’t willing to give this life up, and this was a sacrifice he was going to have to make.

»»————- Present Day.

You only had the moonlight to guide you tonight.

There were hardly any streetlights this far out. It was pitch black, and the glow of the moon fell upon Hyunjin’s face, tracing each contour perfectly. You were trying real hard to not look at him. He was drumming his fingertips against the steering wheel and it was annoying. It kept grabbing your attention, and you’d glance at him only to remember you couldn’t do that anymore. You couldn’t spend time marveling at his little mannerisms because…things had changed.

All you could do was listen to the conversations of the backseat. Chan was mumbling something to Kairi, and their voices had dropped in volume since you’d pulled out of the parking lot. Each syllable was spoken in a whisper, like it was a secret between them, and you felt like you were eavesdropping. Still, there was not much else to focus to. You definitely were not going to focus on the boy sitting next to you.

“I know that it could’ve been better…but I hope that you still had a good time today” Chan said softly, and through the rearview mirror, you saw that they’d laced their hands together. Kairi was leaning into him, fingers interlocked, and you looked down at your hands. The empty spaces between your fingers bothered you.

“I did, Chris” Her eyes were closed, but she smiled, “Honestly, it was a pretty special birthday”

You averted your gaze, giving them privacy. Hyunjin kept glancing in the mirror briefly before looking back to the road. There was a small smile on his lips. He used to talk about them so much. He must be happy with this outcome. You didn’t know the details of what had gone wrong with their relationship, you’d never pried, but it must have been hard getting back together after all that heartbreak and pain.

“I’m…really fucking tired. I might pass out any second” Kairi announced, followed by a yawn.

“Don’t worry. Hyunjin is a smooth driver” Chan reassured, “Isn’t he?”

Hyunjin nodded, eyes flickering to Chan’s, “Of course. And um, Kairi, if you’re cold, I have an extra jacket in the backseat”

There was rummaging and then Kairi gasped, having found the jacket, “This is so stylish. I missed your clothes, Jinnie”

“Hey, hey. What are you trying to imply?” Chan complained. Kairi giggled, and Hyunjin laughed, “Your girlfriend is a fan of color, Chan. That’s not my fault”

“How predictable of you” Chan mumbled, and you could see him rolling his eyes. You drifted out of their conversation, looking out the window at the passing landscape. Trees drifted by in a blur and there was hardly any civilisation out here. Miles and miles of nothing.

“Don’t you agree?” Kairi laughed, hand landing on your shoulder, and she was talking to you.

“Sorry?” You asked, “Agree with what?”

“Fuck. Did I wake you?” She apologised, “I didn’t realise you fell asleep”

“No, no, I’m up. I was just distracted….” You replied, clearing your throat. This conversation warranted another glance from Hyunjin, as if he was checking to see what you were distracted by. You returned his gaze with indifference, raising your eyebrows. He immediately looked away, back to the road.

“Well, I was telling Chris that your friends, Minnie and Jamie are one of the cutest couples I’ve ever met. I mean, I hardly see relationships that strong here; people are usually just serial daters” Kairi explained.

“Oh. Right” You nodded, thankful to have the context, “They’re…really cute, yeah”

“A serial dater?” Chan asked.

“Yeah. Dating apps will do that to you, especially in midtown. Take my advice now, never get on one, you’ll be fighting in the trenches” Kairi laughed. The trees were whizzing past so fast it made you dizzy, you mumbled, “It’s funny. Dating apps could never work back home”

“Cause you know everyone? Is that really true?” She asked. You nodded, “I mean, yeah. You go to school with the people technically in your dating age range, and there are only five restaurants and hang-out spots, so you’re always bumping into each other. It’s impossible to not know everyone”

“Was that ever weird?” Kairi asked, “Like seeing your ex at dinner or something?”

A small laugh escaped you, “It actually sucked. You couldn’t escape them”

“Did you ever run into her exes?” Chan asked, and it took you a second to realise the question was directed at Hyunjin. It took him a few seconds and he sat up straighter, mumbling quietly, “No.”

You blinked at his nonchalance, trying not to let this phase you. This could be a normal car ride if you just let it. Suddenly your gut was hurting with anxiety and you looked out the window again, away from him.

“Well, thankfully, I’ve never had to deal with that,” Chan spoke, “Eunwoo would have a heart attack if one of us was found on those apps. Although there’s quite a few fake profiles out there with Hyunjin’s face on them”

“Eunwoo?” You asked, ignoring the second part of his statement. It sent jealousy surging through you. Why did you feel jealous by even the thought of Hyunjin being on a dating app? You needed to get a grip on your emotions.

“Ah. Hyunjin didn’t tell you?” Chan asked, so casually, “Eunwoo’s…our manager, of sorts”

Without thinking, you spoke, “I thought your manager was the lady in the shop”

“What shop?” Chan frowned, confused, “Wait, hold up. You’ve met one of our managers, Y/N? Where was that?” You stayed silent, for only a second, wondering if Hyunjin would answer this question. After all, he knew the manager and they were in the shop for a reason. The one where he had ignored you completely, as if you didn’t exist. You were only there by accident, after losing your way trying to find the Atelier. To your relief, Hyunjin did speak, “Yeah. That was Mrs. Giwon…she was accompanying me on one of the snack runs”

“Ah” Kairi exclaimed, “She’s…the worst one”

“Hey” Chan spoke, “She’s really helpful sometimes”

“Anyway…moving on” Kairi rolled her eyes, “She kind of traumatised me after she busted us”

“Busted you?” You turned, intrigued. Kairi laughed, “She walked in on me and Chan making out in the studio! God, that day was hell. She like…actually yelled at me for not maintaining a professional attitude in their building”

“And that, of course…led to the no-girlfriend in the studio rule,” Chan mumbled, and through the rearview, you saw him roll his eyes. That seemed like an insane rule to have, especially for adults. You stole a glance at Hyunjin to catch his reaction. He looked straight ahead, as if he couldn’t even hear this conversation, laser-focused on driving the empty streets. Kairi laughed loudly, “Changbin was the most pissed about that!”

“He has a girlfriend?”

“No. That man’s a serial dater, through and through. He’s too busy producing insane music to have a full relationship anyway. He goes through NDA’s faster than you can say hookup, but honestly…he enjoys himself so much. He’s…very popular with all the girls”

You wanted to ask so much more about that. NDAs…? So that was a truth and not a rumor. Hyunjin had never mentioned those to you. At the paint and wine event, Sakura and Yeosang had asked him about it, and he’d been cautious about answering. But it was true. All of it felt so silly. Their words came back to you. Imagine sleeping with someone and then signing a contract instead of some aftercare.

If you and Hyunjin had hooked up back in Daejon, would he have also made you sign an NDA? But he fingered you. He let you touch him. He let you cut his hair and give him a handjob in his little bathroom. Did that not ask for an NDA? Or did he just trust you enough? All the possibilities floated through your head, and stupidly, like a stupid girl, you blurted, “So what all does that NDA cover? Is it just sex or…is it like, making out and other things too? And it's legally required?”

At your question, Hyunjin’s grip on the wheel tightened. His shoulders tensed up.

You’d struck a nerve.

Good.

It was satisfying to know you had some sort of impact on him. Till now, he was just pretending you didn’t exist.

Kairi paused, pondering over it, “Um…pretty much just sex, but like…I didn’t have to sign an NDA every single time. It’s only if it’s with a new person"

“Right”

Chan laughed, “I know. It sounds crazy. Especially in the 21st century, but with the internet and everything, you can never be too careful what people will say in a public forum. Hyunjin, didn’t you hate them too when we started out?”

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “Yeah. It’s stupid”

So he would sign them too? How often did he sleep with a new girl? You didn’t want to think about this any longer. There was no point wondering about his past when you wouldn’t be in his future. Your phone buzzed against the console and you grabbed it, positioning it on the seat between your legs so you could read it. It was a text from Felix.

hey. i was just talking with minho and man, i miss you I know you’ve likely forgotten all about me but call me later please…I think ill die here without you

A smile pulled at your cheeks, and you typed in a quick reply.

im getting back from a party lixie. It was kairi’s birthday. i miss you guys too :(

“Who are you texting at this hour?” Kairi piped up, leaning ahead, “Nate?”. You immediately clicked your phone screen black, even though you had nothing to hide. You just shot her a smile, “Just… a friend from back home”

Hyunjin probably knew exactly who you were talking about, yet he didn’t react. His stone-cold demeanour was really beginning to bother you.

“So where were you guys, at the party? When we found you, you two were at the cabins” Kairi spoke, breaking the tension. You swallowed, wondering if he would answer but he obviously wasn’t interested in speaking so you said, “I was dancing. And then…I hurt myself. So Hyunjin took me to the cabin to find a bandaid”

That wasn’t exactly what had happened. You had conveniently skipped over your argument, and the two of you spying on them, but Hyunjin nodded along, following your lie, “Yeah. There were no first aid kits there though”

Kairi nodded, “Shit, yeah. We didn’t think anybody would use the cabins for anything other than sex…anyway, I was thinkingggg we should play some game. It’d be nice to kill the time.”

Chan reminded her, “I thought you were about to pass out, baby”

Kairi was full of energy now as she suggested, “Well, I’m wide awake now! I kind of want the celebration to last a little while longer. Y/N, you can pick a game, since you're my guest of honour! Do you know any good ones?”

It seemed like Kairi and Chan had absolutely no fucking idea what happened between you and Hyunjin. They knew you weren’t together, but it seemed like they knew nothing more than that. Hyunjin hadn’t told them any of the details. They only knew you’d ended things, but not why. By their ease, and comfort…it seemed like they didn’t even know Hyunjin had been the one to end things with you. The memory of that made your chest clench, with hurt.

The heartbreak felt so one-sided. Everything seemed so easy for him. Had you got everything wrong this summer? Had you read too much into his actions? You felt embarrassed, thinking back to the kind of things you’d said to him. You didn’t tell him you loved him, but you pretty much said everything else. He knew more about you than anybody else in your life, and now he wouldn't even talk to you. You’d been willing to move to the city for him, but he didn’t even bat an eye. Being in Seoul suddenly didn’t feel worth it anymore.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“We still are two hours out of the city. It’d be fun to play something” Kairi said, glancing at the GPS on the console. Play something? Like a road trip game? This hardly felt like a road trip, it was far too depressing to be one. “I’m…good with anything” You spoke, “I’m kind of really tired”

“How about word association?” Chan suggested, “I used to play that with my family as a kid”

You realised he was waiting for your response so you nodded, “Sure. How does it go…? Is there a way to lose?”

“Only if you take longer than three seconds to answer. We go in a circle, Kairi can start with any random word, you have to say a word related to the previous one, and the person who can’t come up with something loses”

You weren’t really in the mood to play, but you would need more energy to protest. Plus, any time interacting with the back-seaters was time removed with the boy in the front seat. Kairi quickly explained the rules, and that it would go clockwise, starting with Hyunjin. He still hadn’t reacted to the idea of the game so you weren’t even sure if he was playing. Kairi hummed loudly, looking around for inspiration. Dark clouds were forming on the horizon so she naturally said, “Thunder!”

“Storm” You immediately said.

“Well, Hyunjin was supposed to go” Kairi laughed, “I’ll go again. Eclipse?”

“Cosmic” Hyunjin replied. A curt, short, emotionless answer. You realised you had to speak now. You mumbled, “Um…the stars”

“Marilyn Monroe” Chan said. Kairi laughed loudly, “Chris. What the hell?”

“What? She’s…a star” Chan defended. You smiled at their bantering. Kairi rolled her eyes, “No. That’s what’s called a Freudian slip”

“Excuse me?” Chan giggled, “Don’t psychobabble me. What even is that?”

Kairi laughed, “It’s this theory that if you accidentally say something wrong, you were thinking about it subconsciously. Most people are thinking about sex, so that’s what a lot of Freudian slips reveal”

“So what… you’re accusing me of wanting to sleep with Marilyn Monroe?” Chan frowned. She giggled, “No, I’m just saying that’s how it works, smartass. It usually reveals your repressed thoughts”

You glanced back at her, “Yeah. I guess that’s what this entire game is about. Although I really don’t think Freud has had the best ideas. Some of them are…really regressive”

Kairi grinned at you, nodding aggressively and she was still tipsy from before, “You’re so right, honestly. Most of the people I played this game with had no idea what a Freudian slip was. You know, this is why we’re friends. You’re…so fucking cool. You’re just like me”

“Y/N is not just like you” Chan laughed loudly.

“Excuse me?” She gasped, offended, “You just met her. How would you even know what she’s like?”

Chan chuckled, “Yeah, but I’ve been hearing about her all summer—” He suddenly stopped, realising what he’d said. An awkward silence enveloped the car and you did everything not to look at Hyunjin. So… Chan had been hearing about you all summer. You knew Hyunjin had told the boys about you. You just wondered what he’d said. What did he know of you? Chan cleared his throat, embarrassed by his slip of the tongue, “I mean….never mind. Should we continue the game? Hyunjin. Why don’t you start?”

Hyunjin swallowed, adjusting his hands on the wheel, “Um. I don’t know. Sin?”

Your eyes widened at his word choice, and it was your turn to go next. Sin? What was he even thinking of? Your mind went through the seven deadly sins that you knew of, and you only had three seconds so you blurted, “Lust”

It was Chan’s turn now, and he blanked, eyes widening, “Uh…passion?”

You didn’t like this tangent of thought… and you waited for Kairi to say something. Chan teased, “Are you serious? You’re gonna lose”. She yelled, “Wait, wait. I know. Yearning!”

It was Hyunjin’s turn to play. His mouth parted, and he was about to say something, but instead he chose not to. He just shook his head, “I don’t know…I can’t really focus on the game when I’m driving”

Kairi sighed, “Can’t believe you lost on yearning, Hyunjin”

“Yeah. My mistake” He mumbled. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel. You didn’t really want to play this game anymore. You stared out the window, your reflection flickering in the window. You wanted to be home already, and not in this car where you felt like a stranger.

There was so much brevity and lightheartedness in the conversations between Chan and Kairi, and here you were…struggling to even get a proper hi out. You felt like a stranger, even to Kairi. You’d only known her for a few weeks, compared to them. The three of them felt like a unit, like a family that was finally complete again. Hyunjin had sang praises of their love, and you could see it now. It wasn’t anything grand or impossible, it was so casual and effortless. Kairi and Chan fit together like puzzle pieces, so perfectly, but even more than that, they enhanced each other so simply. There was no fear of misunderstandings, or betrayal. They were giggling in the back, laughing about some inside joke you’d never be able to understand. Perhaps you shouldn’t have accepted this ride. Kairi was your friend, but you weren’t really welcome here. You were an outsider. Chan must have wanted to keep the conversation going so he said, “So, Y/N, you were about to tell me about yourself when we got in the car”

You swallowed, “Um, I didn’t know I was going to be doing that”

Kairi teased, “Yeah, Chan. I thought you knew all about her, and how me and her are so similar”

Chan giggled, “It was a figure of speech. No, but seriously, Y/N”

You bit your lip, and a deep sadness was overwhelming you. One you’d been trying to escape for months but it seemed impossible now. You’d genuinely enjoyed the party, until he’d showed up. He’d ruined everything. It had taken so long for you to not think about him. Now you felt like you were sinking again, “Um…what do you want to know? I came here to study art. There’s not really much to tell…You’re the one who has a really interesting life."

Chan frowned, “Come on. That’s not a real answer. I wanna know you, not answers you’d type in on some Facebook page”

You were at a loss for words, and you mostly just felt conscious around Hyunjin. You always hated introductions like this, and icebreakers, especially around someone you wanted to like you. Chan seemed amazing, he was brilliant so how could your little life possibly impress him? You’d done nothing that would have an impact on anyone, unlike them. Anything you say would be so boring. So you settled for a basic fact about yourself, a preface to your personality, “Well…I used to work in an art—”

“She’s a really good artist” Hyunjin suddenly interrupted you.

Your gaze snapped to his.

“Oh yeah?” Chan asked, surprised.

“Yup” Hyunjin cleared his throat, “She’s in the most prestigious program of the country”

Chan smiled, “Wow. That’s…amazing, Y/N. You should be bragging about that stuff”

“There’s only like…25 people that get in from across the world” Hyunjin continued talking, staring right ahead so casually. There was a knot in your stomach, and he had the faintest of a smile on his face as he talked about you. It was more than he’d given you in the past hours, “She’s one of the few domestic students”

“What? You didn’t tell me that!” Kairi exclaimed, hand reaching out to tap you. But you were speechless, staring at Hyunjin. Why did he just do that?

“Well, now you’ve got to show me your art, Y/N!” Chan grinned, “Hyunjin’s got pretty high standards when it comes to those, so I’m curious”

You nodded, forcing a smile at him, “Yeah…um, maybe later”

“Well, I hope you taught Hyunjin something too” Chan laughed.

Hyunjin nodded, and there was a hint of emotion as he spoke, “She did”

You chewed on your lower lip, fiddling with your jacket, thinking about his words, even long after he’d said them.

The barren highway enveloped the car in darkness, and the tiny GPS screen was the only light source. You stared ahead, watching the road lit up in the headlights, uncovering more of the unknown every second. There was nobody else out here. It was spooky, and you hated the feeling. You felt trapped in this metal contraption. Hyunjin’s fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, a familiar rhythm, probably calming his nerves down. The backseat noise had died down, and it seemed like the tiredness had finally hit Kairi. The only indication of passing time was the clock on the dashboard. You watched it tick down every second, hoping it would go faster. The city was still so far out. You leaned back onto the seat, watching trees whiz past in silence. Hyunjin was so quiet you’d almost think he fell asleep. The only surmountable sound was the heating, and the tapping of his fingers. You closed your eyes, hoping the time would pass faster.

You couldn’t help but think of what was waiting for you. There was no lingering excitement. This party had been the only thing you’d been looking forward to for a while. There was so much work back in class, starting Monday. Kim Jieong was expecting so much from you. You felt emotionally drained. He was your only motivation, pushing you to get better. After all, there was nothing else waiting for you back there.

Suddenly Hyunjin cleared his throat, drawing your attention. From your peripheral vision, you saw him reach for the radio, fingers hovering over the console, and then he looked to you, “Um…mind if I put something on?”

You blinked, distracted by how he looked in the glow of the light. His glasses were thin, hanging on his nose bridge, and his lips were pursed. He’d bitten them raw. Maybe you weren’t the only one anxious in this car. You shook your head, “Go ahead”

He pressed a button, and life filled the previously stagnant car. An announcer was talking, probably at an all-night radio station, and you asked softly, “Wouldn’t this wake them up?”

Hyunjin looked at you again, over the rim of his glasses, eyes meeting yours for another torturous split second. In the dark, they looked like pools of black, a darkened gaze as he spoke, “Uh, don’t worry. I turned the speakers in the back off. It’s only the front ones that are working”

Oh. You didn’t even know that was possible. They obviously had access to the best cars with the best technologies. Music began playing, a rock band from the 80s, and you rest your head again, closing your eyes to savour in this newfound peace. It was strange to sit next to the man you desired the most yet have no conversation. For the past few months, it had been impossible to separate you, and the irony of this moment didn’t fail to surprise you. You’d come all the way to Seoul for him. Yet the only sound in the car was Bon Jovi on the radio.

“Um—”

“So—” You and Hyunjin both spoke at the same time.

“Sorry,” You apologised, “What were you about to say?”

He glanced at you, hand reaching out to the radio again, and you noticed he had new rings on his finger. They looked so expensive, glittering sparkles, and he must have bought them recently. He seemed nervous and he spoke, “I can…uh, change the music if you don’t like it”

Your eyebrows shot up. That clearly wasn’t what he was going to say. “No, it’s nice. I like him”

He nodded, retreating his hand and putting it back on the console. You wondered about the unspoken, but wondering would only kill you. So you shut your eyes again, hands warm in your lap, wishing to be somewhere else. The tune was thrilling.

“80’s music is actually one of my favourites”

You opened your eyes to look at him, “Really?”

“Yeah. I think….their songs are pretty incomparable. I actually got a lot of inspiration for our album from them. I don’t know if you heard it; it’s very pop-rock heavy, which isn’t what we usually do” He spoke, a nervous wavering in his voice, as if you two were just getting to know each other.

You observed him, “Is that what you were going to say earlier?”

“Sorry?” He looked right at you, dark eyes flickering over your features. You felt conscious of how you looked. You were still in his sweater, and your hair was still wet from the swim. You said, “Um…you were about to say something but decided not to. Was that it?”

Realisation sank into his face, lips parting, “No, I was…going to ask you how you met Kairi”

“Oh…” Disappointment filled you. What were you expecting to be said? An apology would be nice actually. Something to start with. You were having trouble grasping that things between you and him were truly over. They couldn’t be. Hadn’t he only come into your life yesterday, uprooting everything you thought you knew about yourself? Or maybe you were just desperately clinging on to a summer dream that wasn’t real.

“Sorry. Should I not have asked?” Hyunjin said.

“No, that’s fine. It was just a crazy coincidence. We were at a bar…me and my friends, and somebody spilled a drink on her, I just happened to be there. I offered to help her. Obviously…I didn’t know who she was. Later, I realised it was Kairi”

“That’s…” Hyunjin’s fingers adjusted on the steering wheel, he spaced them out, glancing at you again, “That’s really nice of you”

“Yeah”

“Are you cold?” He asked.

“What? Um, no.” You shook your head awkwardly. His sweater was keeping you plenty warm.

“Okay”

The silence drowned you again, and you focused on the song playing, replaying the previous conversation in your head, clinging to it for life.

“I…tried Gouache”

It took you a second to register that Hyunjin was talking to you, again.

Why was he making an effort after what went down earlier? You’d argued and fought, and now he was…trying to be nice? Was he trying to make amends? Did he finally realise what an asshole he’d been? Or were his memories of summer coming back to him too? Because every time you looked at him, all you could remember was the calmness of each moment you’d spent with him, and how his skin had felt to touch, and how his body had felt against yours, warm and comforting. How could he not be thinking of that?

“Sorry?” You glanced at him.

He straightened up, hands clasped before him, “I…taught myself Gouache. I hadn’t explored it much before, but I had some time between schedules last month and I decided to give it a shot”

You didn’t know what to say. Gouache was such a difficult pigmented paint medium to work with. You stayed quiet, which somehow… he took a sign to continue speaking, “It was hard…but I found the supplies and tried many styles with it. I couldn’t get it right for the longest time but then realised I had the wrong brushes. I…think I prefer it to watercolor”

“Are you serious?”

He glanced at you, almost surprised that you’d replied even though he had been telling you all of this. He nodded, his lips a thin line.

“Gouache can never have the same effect, or…even replace watercolours. It’s…so much more intense. It loses all of its softness” You ended up saying.

“Have you worked with it before?”

“In class. I do all the time” You answered, “I don’t like it. I prefer acrylics or oil”

Hyunjin nodded, eyes zeroed in on you again, “Do you have the freedom to choose?”

“Choose what?”

“The material you want to paint with” He stated, simply.

“Yeah. It’s up to us” You said.

Hyunjin just nodded, and then silently turned away. As did you. Queen was playing on the radio now, and you liked this song. Somebody to Love. It seemed like Hyunjin enjoyed this song too, because he reached ahead, his bracelets clinking together and he increased the volume just slightly. You glanced in the rearview mirror, and Kairi and Chan were still asleep, cuddled up to each other. Hyunjin was softly singing, under his breath, but he knew all the words. His voice brought a strange calmness to your body, warming it up.

“I can’t believe you tried Gouache” You mumbled, still thinking about it. You didn’t want to initiate conversation with him, not after everything he’d done to your heart. But you were so curious. It was really hard to work with, especially if someone was a beginner.

“Can I show you something?” He asked.

“What?”

He looked at you, a newfound energy in him, “The…paintings I’ve been working on”

“Unless you’re going to pull over—”

“They’re in my phone. You can just…see them there”

You glanced at his phone that lay on the console.

“Um…are you sure?” You reached for his phone, and it was strange that he completely trusted you with it.

“Yeah. I don’t mind. There’s nothing I have to hide from you. The password…I can just type it in” He grabbed it from you, entering random numbers that you couldn’t grasp the significance of, before handing his unlocked phone back to you. The wallpaper was a pretty sunset. You recognised the landscape instantly. It must have been the pictures he took on the Ferris wheel with Seungmin, back at the summer carnival. Memories of that flooded through you. It had been a perfect day. You recalled the photobooth pictures that lay in your sketchbook, Hyunjin had put them there for you to find. You still didn’t understand why, or how he got a hold of them. As far as you knew, he’d deleted them in front of your eyes. You glanced at him; his eyebrows were knitted as he concentrated on driving, still occasionally mouthing the words to the song. You may never get this chance again. “How’d you get those pictures?” You broke the silence.

It took him a second to comprehend your question, and he turned casually, “Hmm?”

In this angle, confusion on his face, nose scrunched up, he looked so tame, so innocent. You already wished to take back what you’d said, in case it ruin this strange peace. It was too late to back up now as he stared at you so you said, “In my sketchbook, I found the photobooth strip. The pictures of us kissing. I…thought you deleted them”

His eyes widened, and he turned back to the road, voice dropping low, “Oh… It doesn’t really matter, Y/N”

His response irked you. It reminded you again that this was futile, whatever you chased for with Hyunjin. “Yeah. It doesn’t” You agreed, looking back at his phone in your hands. You opened up his picture gallery. Everything was divided into little folders, and his entire life was so organised. If you were his girlfriend, would there be a folder for you in it too? You clicked on the one which was so fittingly named ‘Art’. You were annoyed at him but you couldn’t pretend, “Oh. These are…really good, Hyunjin”

He clearly gravitated towards drawing flowers and landscapes. Some of them were familiar, most of them were new. There were so many pictures of flowers, at all stages. He must be drawing from life. It seemed like he’d developed a lot of art ever since he’d come back. They were all so intense and bold, no softness to them that watercolour provided. You’d always thought that Gouache was something in between watercolour and acrylic, a strange midway compromise, yet Hyunjin had made masterpieces out of it, “You did all of these in Gouache?”

He only nodded in response, as you scrolled through the gallery.

“You’re crazy” You said.

Hyunjin let out a laugh, “You really hate it that much?”

“It’s just difficult to work with, but you’re actually really great at these” You stared at the art, and how his technique had improved. All his lines were more confident, pronounced, bolder. He’d gotten so much better in your absence. You’d only gotten worse in his.

“So…how’s the apprenticeship going? Is Kim Jieong as nice as you thought?” He asked. You put his phone back on the console, even though you urged to see everything he’d felt worth storing in his phone. He had asked you a question so you tried to focus on that, “Yeah. He’s really nice. He is so talented. I, um, asked him about the painting, by the way. The one we were talking about”

“The one about the lovers drowning in moonlight?”

You nodded, hands feeling jittery, unable to stomach this casual conversation, “Yup. He was surprised it was my favourite. He thinks I have morbid taste. And… the day he took us to your work building, he wanted us to meet some gallery curator”

“Must have been Karina”

“You know her?” You glanced at him, hoping your face didn’t give anything away. How petty of you to be jealous that he knew another girl. Another artist at that.

“She’s the prodigy I was telling you about. She wants me to…exhibit some of my work at a gallery next month”

Your eyes widened, and you fiddled with the zipper on the jacket, “Oh. That’s…a big deal. Are you allowed to do that?”

He looked at you, “Yeah, the company and Eunwoo’s really supportive. The fans love it, so he thinks it’s a great stream of revenue and publicity. Any press is good press. He couldn’t care less about the art”

“Right” You nodded, watching him, “Well, maybe Kim Jieong will make it a field trip for us again. Your exhibition”

Hyunjin’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’d be really embarrassing. I wouldn’t want all your professional artist friends to judge my work”

“Well…they’re not as pretentious as you might think. My friends…they’re really nice. Everybody’s not bad. I mean…it was hard settling in, but…I think I like it now” You were rambling, without meaning to share so much with him. Maybe you’d just been craving to have a real conversation with him all this while. After all, he was the only person in your life who understood, “And Kim Jieong is my favourite part of it anyway. Even if everybody sucks. I look up to him a lot. He…even calls me sweetheart. It always throws me off”

“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate?”

You frowned, not expecting that response, “No…he has different nicknames for everyone”

“I see” His reply was curt, like he didn’t believe that. He cleared his throat, “And um…your friends? The other students? Are they cool?”

“I mean, you’ve already met Jeonghan”

“Is that the boy who you were dancing with?”

“Yeah, that’s him”

Hyunjin stayed quiet for a minute and then he said, “He has two left feet”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry” He chuckled dryly, “When you were dancing with him, he almost dropped you…like ten times”

“He only came to the party for me, because I didn’t know anybody. Don’t make fun of him. He was kind of the best part of my day”

“I’m not making fun of him. It’s just an observation” Hyunjin mumbled, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes and he looked at you, “And I saw your face. You were worried he’d drop you too”

“I was not” Your eyes narrowed, but a stupid smile tugged at your lips, “Anyway. You’re one to talk. You’re probably worse”

He laughed properly this time, looking at you over his glasses, “Oh, am I?”

You shrugged, “We’ve never danced together so it could be true”

“I think you’re forgetting that I’m a professional dancer, Y/N” His tone was cocky.

You sighed, facing away to look out, “Ugh. Do you always have to bring up the idol card?”

“The idol card?” He repeated, “That’s my job, what do you mean?”

“Just seems like an unfair advantage”

Hyunjin chuckled, “Fine. Okay. Even if I wasn’t a professional dancer, I bet I’d still be able to take Jeonghan in a dance battle”

“I’m starting to think that you’re obsessed with him…”

Hyunjin laughed, “I guess I see why you chose him now”

Your gaze darted to his, “What?”

You arrived at a railway crossing. The signal was loud, and he stopped the car, foot on the brake as he slowed down. “He is your boyfriend…isn’t he?” He said, so surely.

You stared at him, wondering how he could ask that so casually, so unaffected. You’d probably die if Hyunjin had a girlfriend. Did he think you’d move on so fucking fast? You woke and fell asleep to the thought of him every day still, months later. You thought of him every waking second. Maybe you should take a book out of Hyunjin’s ability to be vague, “Are you seriously asking me that?”

He looked at you, eyes heavy with emotion. He swallowed, “Yeah. I am”

You stared right back at him, heart pounding fast, “Yeah. I am dating him”

“Oh” He shifted in his seat, “That’s nice…how long have you known him?”

You couldn’t believe he could be so…casual about it. You looked out, “It doesn’t matter”

Hyunjin nodded, “Well. For what it’s worth, Nate seems like a nice guy”

You just couldn’t comprehend how the fuck he could be so casual about this. As if you two had just been an inconvenient situationship and your lives and souls hadn’t completely intertwined this summer. As if you’d just move away, and get a new boyfriend and fall in love. As if you could ever truly move on from Hyunjin. As if he didn't know that you'd been in love with him this whole time. It wasn’t that simple. It could never be.

“So…you really don’t give a fuck?”

“I’m sorry?” He looked at you, feigning innocence, “About what?”

You could have said so many things. Bitterness clawed out of you. “Well, for what it’s worth, Nate’s a great kisser”

His eyes widened, and he nodded, voice falling low, “I’m sure he is”

You couldn’t stop. You wanted your words to stab him like little knives he’d dug into your skin all this while, “And for what it’s worth, I actually trust him”

Hyunjin tensed up, fists clenching at the wheel. The train was just passing by, and the signal was so loud but you knew he heard you. “I’m…glad you trust him” He ended up saying.

You watched him, observing every micro-expression. You could have played along, egged him on, made him believe it. He should hurt too, like you were, but you couldn’t wrap your head around this. Was it really so easy for him to move on? He was pretending like nothing ever affected him. Were you seriously the only one who had been invested in the two of you? You let out a laugh, “So that’s it?”

“What?” He looked at you.

“You don’t care? You really think I would just date…a random guy from my class? Because if you think that, you don’t—”

His brows shot up, “I’m sorry, so you’re not dating him? Why would you tell me you were?”

“Do you care if I was?”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing, “Seriously? You know I still care about you, right?”

It pissed you off. He had no right to say something like that when he didn’t give a fuck about you. He had just abandoned you, with no intention of ever making up things, “I don’t know, Hyunjin. I mean…everything you’ve done to me the past few months has shown me quite the opposite. That you don’t care”

His eyes widened, “Everything I’ve done to you?”

A scoff escaped you, and you were losing it, “I’m sure you had your reasons for never wanting to talk to me again. I, personally, would have just liked a goodbye or an explanation before you decided to leave. That’s just me though. But you know what? Maybe I read too much in what happened this summer”

He swallowed, shifting to look at you, “Look, it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. I didn’t know how to explain and I thought that you would understand—”

How the fuck could he expect you to understand? Your voice shot up, and everything you'd wondered over the past few months bubbled to the surface, “You…pushed me away, Hyunjin. You completely got rid of me! I’m sure you had your reasons, but I wasn’t okay. I’m still not fucking okay. It was a complete asshole move to block me for months with no explanation. I didn’t even know you’re capable of something like that, but you know what, it sucks to find out. In my head, I built you up to be some angel on a fucking pedestal. That was obviously my mistake”

He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing, and you could see him grappling with what to say. It felt good to render him speechless. It took away from your embarrassment of knowing that Kairi and Chan could probably hear each second of this conversation.

“Things were always going to end this way. You knew that, Y/N” The way he spoke pissed you off, like he had a rehearsed answer in his head and no real fucking emotions. Why could he just not tell you what he truly felt? Why was he trying so hard to be someone he was not?

A dry chuckle escaped you, and it was better you take out your anger on him because you felt like crying with each word you said, “No, I didn’t know that. if I knew that you were just going to disappear, I would have preferred never to know you”

His gaze burned through you, “Y/N…”

Somebody suddenly knocked on Hyunjin’s window, and you shook away your building tears. It was an officer, and Hyunjin rolled down the window, “Yes?”

He leaned in, not knowing what he was interrupting, “Excuse me? The signal’s running at a delay. There’s going to be a ten minute hold-up”

Hyunjin nodded, “Oh okay”

He rolled the window back up, and looked back at you. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even look at him. You hated him and his fucking nonchalance. You swallowed, “I need some air”

Before he could say something, you opened the door, stepping out. There would be a delay anyway, and hardly any cars were behind you. You walked to the side of the street, taking in a breath, willing yourself to not start fucking cry.

Another car door slammed shut behind you, and Hyunjin followed you out.

“Y/N—” He said, walking around the car, following you to the side.

Your emotions were brimming to the top, and you couldn’t keep it in. It would be petty, mean, childish but you deserved to get some answers.

You turned around, voice raising, “If I hadn’t moved to the city, you would have never met me again” It wasn’t a question. You knew he had no plans of returning to town anytime this century, “And you were just okay with that? With never seeing me again?”

He closed his eyes, his body towering over you, “It’s…not that simple”

“Yeah. It is. You didn’t even think I was worth an explanation…or a proper goodbye?”

“I…didn’t know what to say. You just have to believe when I say I’m doing this for your own good”

“Really?” You scoffed, “You expect me to believe that…? You could’ve said anything. Anything would have been better than what I got. Just tell me what's going on, please”

“Anything I said would have hurt you” His voice was shaking, like he was going to cry. How could he ever explain that he had picked his life over you? That you were the sacrifice he had decided to make?

You loved him, and you couldn’t bear to be the reason he cried but you had so many questions. Your voice was loud, in disbelief and frustration, “How is this any different? You cut me out of your life like it was nothing”

“It wasn’t nothing. It was just as hard for me as—”

“No, I’m not done talking. After losing you, moving to the city was the hardest thing I ever did. Leaving Daejon behind, all my friends…the only life I knew, and this place where I don’t really fit perfectly, but I’m trying so hard to. It is so hard. The only thing I love…I can’t even love that anymore because I can’t fucking stop thinking about you when I’m painting! It’s not fair. You had a choice, Hyunjin. I didn’t” Your voice broke.

“Before I saw you in the shop, I was this close to calling you up” He held up a small gap between his fingers, “I just…always ended up talking myself out of it”

A scoff escaped you, at the ridiculousness of his response, “I really have a hard time believing that”

“I don’t expect you to believe me anyway” He mumbled. You stared at him, crossing your arms, wondering how everything led to this, “I thought you were different, Hyunjin, from every other guy I’ve known in my life… but you…”

He stepped closer to you, running a hand through his hair, “What was I supposed to say to you, Y/N? That I never want to see you again? Do you think that would be easy for me to say?”

“I don’t know, Hyunjin! I don’t fucking know, but anything would have been better than what I got, because the person I knew would never have acted this drastically. So, were you just pretending in Daejon? Or are you pretending now? Because I’m having a real hard time telling who the real you is, Hyunjin—”

His eyes widened at those words, as if they personally struck him. He grabbed your hands, pulling you closer to him in the process, “Y/N— Stop. I’m not…I never pretended with you”

His grip on you was firm, but enough that you could let go if you wanted. You looked up at him, and you were already so emotional, “Then why are you being so cold? You’ve been acting like you don’t care, but I don’t even know if you’re acting anymore. I feel like…I never saw the real you. That’s what you’re making me believe”

His closed his eyes, shaking his head at your words like they were the worst thing he could hear, “I’m sorry”

Your eyebrows knitted together, voice fading, “For…what?”

“For…changing my number and not telling you” He swallowed, and his hands held yours in between them like a prayer, “For…trying to push you away. For ignoring you in the shop”

His eyes glimmered with incoming tears, but he cleared his throat, and blinked them away, “I’m sorry I didn’t apologise until today”

You swallowed. You’d been waiting for an apology this whole time, but your heart still hurt. There wasn’t any explanation. You couldn’t…just believe him. Your heart squeezed so bad, it felt like a heart attack. You blinked away tears.

“There’s…a lot I want to talk to you about, but I can’t do it here” He swallowed, and there was a cloud of smoke when he talked, it was freezing outside but your heart felt dead, “You just have to believe me when I say I’m doing this for your own good”

“I don’t understand…”

He closed his eyes, and the train at the signal crossing was still passing, giving you a few more moments of his vulnerability, “I’ve told you before. If we didn’t stop talking when we did…it would have led to something more that I can’t deny. I’m not going to regret my choices because I know why I made them. And that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I will always fucking care about you, it’s insane to even think anything else but…I can’t be in your life, and you can’t be in mine”

Tears threatened to shoot up, but you had some dignity clinging on so you said, “Then what is this? Why are you still being nice to me, making conversation? Why did you show up tonight? Why are you driving me home? If you don’t want me in your life, then just…stay out of it, Hyunjin”

He blinked, glossy eyes, and suddenly the car behind you honked. The train had passed, and you were free to cross.

His voice was shaking and this was the most emotion you’d seen in him in months, “I…couldn’t leave you at the party. It’s not safe…of course I had to drive you home. I would go insane if something happened to you”

You ripped your hands away from him, “Then I guess it’s a good thing that it’s not your responsibility anymore”

»»————-

The rest of the ride was fucking horrible. You stared out the window the entire time, and Hyunjin didn’t say anything else. Maybe it really was over now. What was left to salvage? You don’t know how much Kairi and Chan had heard, but it didn’t matter anyway. They were probably getting back together, which meant you couldn’t be a part of this anymore. If Kairi started hanging out with Chan again, you would obviously not be invited. Not after they witnessed you being such a bitch to their best friend. They were friends first, after all. You were the stranger.

“The next right turn” You mumbled, as you approached the street you lived on. Hyunjin brought the car to a stop. They were now awake in the backseat. You didn’t even know what to say. You unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbing your bag of things, avoiding eye contact with anybody, “Thank you for the ride home”

“I can walk you home” Chan offered.

“I’ll be fine. It’s a minute away” You replied, holding your bag to your chest.

“It’s really late out” Chan replied, insisting. You didn’t want to argue with him any further. The longer you argued, the longer you’d have to stay in this car, next to Hyunjin. He was looking at you, but he was pretending real hard not to. The eyes flickering back and forth, it couldn’t fool you. You’d become an expert on all things him. These secretive glances were all you had back then, so how could you not notice them now?

“Don’t worry about it, Chan” You replied, shooting them a smile so they believed you. Chan nodded, and you glanced at Kairi. She looked tired, but she was in his arms, so she was clearly very happy. She smiled warmly, and you wonder if they’d heard you breaking down. Her voice was soft and sweet, and she grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “Thank you for a perfect birthday, Y/N. You had a good time?”

“Of course.” You nodded. You were suffocating in here. You reached for the doorknob, but then you heard Hyunjin’s voice, “Good luck with class”

You couldn’t see the look in his eyes, but you’d die for it. You stepped out into the cold, glancing briefly back, “Yeah. Thanks.”

It didn’t matter because he had already looked away. It’s like he couldn’t bear to see you anymore.

»»————-

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your neighbour, Jeongin, stood in the doorway. You had been standing in the cold for a while, staring at the spot the car had been. It had driven off a while ago, but you could still picture it where it stood. The humming of the engine, the heat, the stupid 80s music stuck in your head. You had been so mean to him. He didn’t deserve it.

You looked at him in surprise, “You’re awake?”

“I work on European time” He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. It was freezing cold, and you could feel it in your bones. It had never been this way back home. “Let’s just go inside” You spoke.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea” He smiled, pulling you in by your arm, “I was wondering how the party went”

You followed him up the stairs, feeling like a zombie in each step, “It was good. I missed you at it. You should have come”

“I’m sure Nate kept you plenty company” Jeongin laughed, “Are you going to go to sleep now?”

It was almost six am, and the sun was rising. You don’t think you could fall asleep with these thoughts in your head. You glanced at him, “Why? You got something in mind?”

He grinned, like he'd been waiting for you to ask him this. And so you spent the dawn with Jeongin, in his cosy apartment, struggling over a 1000-piece puzzle and downing the red wine he’d brought you. He didn’t ask you any questions, which was nice. You wouldn’t even know where to start. He was sweet and he was always smiling, telling you about his work and all the new video games he’d bought. You prolonged everything, asking more questions, anything to keep the focus on him. You didn’t want to go back to your empty apartment and face your thoughts.

“How long have you been living here?” You asked. The window in his apartment was bigger than yours, facing out at the busy street, as the city woke up and came back to life.

“Almost my entire life. Moved here when I was twelve” He told you. You couldn’t bring yourself to be excited about this anymore, or about anything else. You missed your friends, the familiarity and comfort of them. You missed the diner, and it’s cheap coffee.

“Does it ever get easy?”

He laughed, “Honestly, no. Seoul…is hard to fall in love with, but once you do…you never go back”

You sighed, placing the final piece of the puzzle. You missed your art shop. It had always kept you safe and happy. If you knew it was going to be this hard leaving that behind, you would have thought twice, “I think…some people probably never get used to it. That makes me sad”

“Yeah?” He asked, “But you’re used to it now, aren’t you? You once told me it was written in the stars for you to come here”

“I don’t know if I believe in that anymore”

He relaxed on his couch, “I’m sure things will change. You’ll find something worth staying for”

You shrugged, pushing the puzzle to the side and it fell apart, all the pieces getting jumbled up. He didn’t complain about you ruining your hours worth of hard work. He just watched you grapple with your thoughts. You looked up at him, feeling hollow inside, “I think I made a mistake, Jeongin”

»»————-

Kairi had apparently found the best dessert shop in the city. She had pleaded you for hours until you’d decided to come. There were no seats inside the place, it was so busy, and so you and Kairi sat on a patio table outside. You looked around, as you swirled your hot coffee around. There were no leaves on the trees anymore. Winter had finally come.

“I’m going to bring Chris this when he gets back” She spoke, through a mouthful of brownie, “He doesn’t really have a sweet tooth, but I know he will love this. I once baked the boys this cake for Jisung’s birthday, and Chris said he hated it, but I saw him eat all the leftovers later. He literally stole mine too!” She laughed.

“When he’s back from where?”

“Oh, right. They’re in Japan. They had a flight the morning after my birthday, remember? Well, they’re supposed to show up at an event in Tokyo, and then they come back home for a few days, until they go back again. It’s the end of the season so there’s a bunch of award shows” She told you, sprinkling sugar crystals into her coffee. You didn’t know that they were in an entirely different country, “Must be hard. All the flying back and forth”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink, “Not really. They’re used to it at this point. It’s tiring, but…in their line of work, they have to learn to adjust”

Maybe that was your biggest flaw. You couldn’t adjust. To a different life, to new friends, to a new bed. To a life without him.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your birthday”

Her eyes widened, and she kept her cup of coffee down, “What are you talking about? You’re the one that made it perfect. You made it happen in the first place!”

“Yeah, but…” You trailed off, feeling embarrassed, “You must have heard us”

She swallowed, “I didn’t hear anything. It wasn’t my business to.”

You looked up at her, “Chan must hate me”

“What? Why would he?”

You looked down, “I’m…an asshole”

She reached ahead, grabbing your hand, “No one thinks you’re an asshole”

You let out a sigh, and you didn’t believe her, but there was no point arguing.

The next week, the boys flew back home. You only knew because Kairi told you. She had been counting down the days till they returned. She invited you out to a small get-together, but they would all be there. You said no.

Slowly, all your plans with Kairi became into plans with Kairi and Chan. You wouldn’t mind at all, because you loved Chan. You just hated that he almost always came with Hyunjin. So you never went to any of those. He would be grateful. He probably never wanted to see you again either. Your time with Kairi became divided. You didn’t blame her. She was in love, and you wouldn’t deny her any time with him. It became obvious how much happier she was around him.

A week later, you realised you still had Hyunjin’s sweater that he’d given to you at the party. So, you washed it and returned it to Kairi, hoping he wasn’t angry that you kept it with you for so long. You’d truthfully forgotten. You wouldn’t want to keep anything of his longer than you had to anyway.

»»————-

Nate was staring in awe at your painting. It was balanced on the easel, and you stood next to it, embarrassed at the attention it got. Nate laughed in disbelief, “Holy shit. That’s…beautiful. When did you get the time to make that?”

It was show-and-tell day. You were almost in the middle of your semester, and you were supposed to display your best work in class. You looked back at your painting. Ever since Kairi’s birthday, you hadn’t left your room. You’d been fixated on this. There was only one good thing left for you here, and it was this opportunity. You’d do anything to grasp at it, and maybe all your sadness and heartbreak had ended up being perfect inspiration. You had been endlessly inspired, each brushstroke came to you so easily. Perhaps all good art did come from suffering. Your best work to date you’d done when feeling your worst. You’d sniffled, and cried and fought your way through it.

“I…found time” You shrugged. Your hands were folded behind your back as you explained it to every single person who passed it. All the easels were set up in a circle, and it was almost like those expensive Château classes you could never afford to go to. Nate smiled at you, tilting his head, “You’re so mysterious. It suits you”

“I’m really not trying to be” You replied, “It just…came to me”

His eyes trailed over you. You’d tried to dress your best, an outfit you’d bought off the fancy boutiques, and it had cost you a fortune but none of your own clothes would fit the vibe. Nate’s voice dropped, “Is it weird if I say that you being coy is a turn-on?”

You smiled at him, wondering why his words had no effect on you. He made you feel wanted. He flirted with you endlessly. He was attracted to you. He actually wanted to talk to you.

But you knew that was all. He didn’t want to date you. He certainly didn’t have any intentions of a relationship. Perhaps, you didn’t want to just be wanted anymore.

“Mmh. It’s…a little weird” You teased him.

Kim Jieong approached you, and you straightened up, pulling Nate to the side. He glanced at your painting, and he certainly looked impressed. There was a small smile on his lips, and he was observing your art with all the focus in the world, “How many hours did you spend on this?”

“Maybe…twenty”

He laughed at your feeble attempt of lying, “That looks like…it took a hundred, at the least. Is it all you did this week?”

You nodded, “That’s what I’m here for”

He looked at your painting again, “As your professor, I have to say that I wish you hadn’t sacrificed sleep for this, but…” He leaned in closer, voice dropping, “This is exactly why I picked you, sweetheart”

Your eyes widened, not used to this proximity, but you felt so special. He hadn’t said this to anybody else. He was far too close to you, but you blinked at him, “Are you proud of me?”

He laughed, lifting a finger up, “You’re not there yet”

Your face fell.

“I’ll be proud of you if you can get that done in a day” He smiled wide, hands clasped behind his back, “You should start preparing for next week. I want you to make something special. If you win, it’d mean a lot for you, Y/N”

You nodded, remembering the assignment. The best painting in the class would be chosen for a prize. A scholarship, and the chance to get your work displayed in Seoul Museum of Art. It would certainly make everything much easier, taking the burden off you, and you’d also get a perfect start. You would finally be able to prove your worth here.

»»————-

You’d been painting all day, and your clothes were ruined with stains. You were working on the assignment for next week, it had to be perfect to win, and you hadn't got much sleep, completely immersing yourself into this. In a little break, you laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the call to go through. Yeonjun picked up your phone call, and he sounded so happy on the other end. It had been a while since you’d talked to him and he apologised, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with work. There was a company retreat last week, and we went out to these cabins in the woods. It was straight from a horror movie, and there was no network there. I took some pictures for you though”

“How did it go? That sounds nice, to be away from everything”

He laughed, “It was. I missed you though. But…I have some news to tell you…something happened”

“Yeah?”

“Remember the girl from my work I said was cute? She…kissed me. We actually, ended up making out in the hot tub. It was really fucking nice” You could imagine him smiling on the other end, and it warmed your heart. You sat up, smiling, “Are you serious? That’s so…amazing. So…you guys made out? Is that all that happened?”

He laughed on the other end, “No. We…slept together. Every night of the retreat”

Your eyes widened, “You’re kidding me. So, you really really like this girl”

“I mean, yeah, things with her are so…simple and easy. She gets me, and she’s so fun to be around. Sometimes that’s just how it has to be”

You thought of the polaroids on his desk of Hana, “Did she never ask about the pictures on your work desk?”

Yeonjun laughed nervously, “I…ended up taking those down. It’s easier to move on that way. I mean, I won’t ever be over her, but…it’s a start”

“Yeah. You’re probably right”

“I may have discovered a new kink about myself” He joked, “I have an urge to just move to that cabin and live in that hot tub forever”

You smiled, “Maybe you should”

“How about you though?”

“Well…I’ve been trying to make my magnum opus. If I have the best painting in class, I get to win this insane amount of money for a scholarship, and…it’ll be perfect”

“Well, you’re obviously going to win. I already know you’re the best in class”

You smiled, “I appreciate your faith in me…I think I’m going to start working on it in the classroom. It’s going to be a really big canvas, and there’s not much space in my apartment”

“That makes sense. And um, I wanted to ask, how are things with…Hyunjin? Did you guys ever talk after you saw him in the shop?”

You lay back down, and the lie was on easy on your tongue, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since then”

“Wow. He…hasn’t even reached out to you?”

You shrugged, echoing his words from before, “I don’t care. It’s easier to move on that way”

»»————-

Your canvas lay across multiple tables, occupying most of the space in your classroom. You’d joined them all together, it had taken a lot of strength, but it was worth it. Now, you sat on top of the paper cross-legged in the center. It was easier to work this way, as if the entire floor was your painting. You hope you weren’t breaking any rules by being in the classroom after hours. You’d just wanted some time to work on your painting, and you weren’t exactly inspired at your place. Your anger from the past few days had manifested into this; an insane obsession to make this your best work ever. You would prefer that over sadness. This, after all, was the only reason you’d come here. Not for him. It was almost midnight, and you scooted across the canvas, filling in more details of your sketch. Your plan was far too ambitious, but you were going to have to go all out to win the contest. It was the only thing you cared about right now.

“I didn’t know anybody was in here” The voice made you jump. Nobody was supposed to come in here right now, the building was shut down. You glanced up, watching Kim Jieong walk in, and you smiled at him, “Professor. Hi”

His eyes narrowed in on your silhouette, and a familiar smile across his face, “Oh, it’s you. What…in god’s name are you doing on top of the tables?”

“Um, my canvas is pretty big, so I thought it’d be easier to work like this” You explained. He laughed loudly, “You’re adorable, Y/N. You know that?”

You sat back down comfortably, realising he would let you stay here, “Um. Thank you, professor”

He looked around, “Oh, please don’t let me interrupt you. Why is it so dark in here though? I can hardly see you"

Adjusting your canvas and brushes around it, you spoke, “I like it that way. I think much better in the dark, the lights were too bright. Plus, the moonlight looks really nice”

You think he smiled at your words but you couldn’t tell in the dark. You could barely see him, just his silhouette and you heard him laugh. You heard his footsteps as he approached his own desk, “So, we’re far from the final project. I’m curious why you’re in the studio”

You bit your lip, feeling anxious about all this effort you were putting in, “I’m working on the contest painting. The scholarship…I really want to try my best. I also don’t work too well at my apartment, I thought maybe I could work here”

“When I got a notification that a student was still in the studio, I was curious. I had to cut my dinner short”

“Oh” You blinked, feeling guilty, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it notified you…”

“Of course, it’s for the safety of our students” He smiled, stepping towards your workspace, “Would you indulge me in what you’re working on…or is it a surprise?”

Your canvas wasn’t ready to show, “I’d prefer if you see it when it’s finished”

He laughed, and asked, “May I sit next to you?”

“Oh, you won’t be getting back to your dinner?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, I’d like to stay here with you”

He was perhaps the only person in the world you wanted to be around right now, so you didn’t mind. His presence would calm and comfort you, “Of course. That’d be fine with me, professor”

He pulled a stool up close to your workspace. The greenhouse-studio was deathly quiet and he inched closer to your table. You stared at your big sketch, “I’m really sorry about interrupting your dinner. I thought it’d be fine if I let myself in”

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. My wife was pretty tired anyway. Just gave us a reason to end the night early”

He was at dinner with his wife? You didn’t even know he was married, but he was in his late thirties so it made sense. You continued adding details, but you couldn’t focus when he was observing you so close. Thankfully the dark could conceal your expressions and embarrassment. You ought to feel proud. The greatest artist in the country was here to watch you paint.

“Have you…eaten dinner yet?” You heard him ask. You glanced up, gesturing to the side of the classroom where your leftovers lay, “Yeah, I had some chinese takeout. Although when I’m painting, I don’t get hungry for hours.”

He just hummed in response. You were grateful that your mentor wanted to sit with you so badly that he skipped dinner with his wife. But the other part disliked the supervision, and you did want some alone time. Still, he was the greatest living artist, so you’d learn to adjust to it. After everything that had happened, he was also your only hope of making it big in the city. He was the sole reason you were still here, spending thousands just to stay in Seoul so you could attend the classes. You looked at him, and he was admiring you while you worked, so you said, “I might be here all night. I wouldn’t want to keep you"

He frowned, “I don’t mind staying. I could get some work done too”

“Oh…sure” You looked back at your sketch, erasing off a mistake. He stood up, walking towards the cabinet, sifting through canvases. Usually, you weren’t awkward around him, but right now it was really late and you were tired to make small talk. But it’d be weirder if you just stayed quiet. You felt a need to fill in the silence with anything, “So, Professor, um…your wife. How did you meet her?”

He shrugged in your peripheral vision, not particularly excited to answer, “The usual. We were high school sweethearts. Got married as soon as we graduated. I was too focused on my art to pursue other women anyway”

You nodded. Well, that made it even more awkward. So you kept going, “Right. Wow. High school, that’s really cool. Was she…any of the inspirations for your paintings?”

“Some of them, yes”

“That’s really nice.” You smiled, sketching out the boundaries for the stars. The idea for this painting had come to you after waking from a dreamless sleep. You’d ended up researching for it for hours, making sure you were portraying accurate art. You couldn’t wait to present your concept next week.

“What about you?” He asked.

“Sorry?”

“You have a boyfriend?”

You blinked, a nervous laugh escaping you, “Um…not currently. I’m also…I guess, trying to focus on my art, and build a career from it”

He smiled at you, crossing his arms, “Guess we’re more alike than I thought”

You looked back at your canvas as he walked closer to you, “The temptation to understand your sketch is a lot. Can you give me a hint as to what it’s about?”

You slid your sketchbook towards him, where you’d drawn up a miniature version of the sketch, “All I can tell you now is that it’s…a landscape, inspired by my time in the city so far. I was walking home the other night and I couldn’t help but notice the night sky. I’ve always liked it, and I know it’s been overdone in art, but I wanted to explore a new side of it. Someone once told me that there’s no stars in the city, which just…sounds so sad. I was thinking along the lines of that. What do you think so far?”

He pushed his glasses up, a proud smile on his face, “I think that…I’m incredibly lucky to have you. I can't wait to see what you'll do with this”

Your eyes widened, unsure how to respond, “Um…I mean, we’re the lucky ones. We get to study under you, Professor”

He laughed, his voice echoing through the empty studio, “Stop calling me Professor. I think you and me are way past that, don’t you?”

“It’s…only appropriate.” You frowned, going back to work. That was weird. You don't think you would feel comfortable calling him by his first name. And then, you felt another stupid need to fill in the prolonged silence. He was here watching you after all, you could just ask him all the things you’d wondered for years, “Um, I wanted to ask. The painting about the moons. Celestial Fatality. Did you paint that when you were in college?”

He hummed mindlessly, not really answering your question, then he grabbed your sketchbook off the table. Eyebrows furrowed, he stared at it, "I think you can work on your perspective, but these are nice. These hands. You’ve drawn them countless times”

“Yeah” You felt embarrassed, and climbed off the table so you could also see what he was looking at, “It’s a friend from back home”

“Did you draw these from observation?” He asked, as you joined him at his side.

“Hmm. He really wanted me to draw his hands,” You said, recalling the time Hyunjin made you observe them.

Kim Jieong laughed, “Can’t blame him”

A nervous laugh escaped you at those words, “Yeah.” What did he mean by that? You reached to get your sketchbook back. Instead of handing it to you though, he sat down on the desk, turning the pages of your book, “These ones are pretty good too”

“Yeah” You nodded, taking a seat next to him, unsure of what to do, “I made those a while ago”

As he turned another page, something drifted out, landing on the floor. Your eyes widened, and you reached for it. The photobooth strip pictures of you and Hyunjin. You felt embarrassed, but thankfully, Kim Jieong didn’t notice or see them fall out. You grabbed them, hiding them between your palms on your lap. There was nothing wrong with him seeing them, but…it was embarrassing and stupid to carry around pictures of a boy who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

“You’re very talented” Kim Jieong spoke again, voice dropping low.

“Oh…thank you. It means a lot hearing it from someone like you”

He finally put your sketchbook to the side, looking right at you. He did look kind of intimidating in this light, towering over you, “This scholarship means a lot to you?”

You swallowed, feeling embarrassed, “Yeah. I could use the help. It’s an expensive life here, and I’d really appreciate it. Plus, the exhibition would be a great kickstart to…a career”

“The others don’t need the scholarship. They just want it so they can win” He said, then leaned forward, “Don’t the rich kids get on your nerves sometimes? They don’t act out of necessity, but you…” He pointed a soiled paintbrush at you, “You’re wonderful because… you’re desperate”

“I’m sorry?”

“Desperate to be seen, and respected. As an artist, I mean. I don’t mean that badly, but all great inventions are born out of necessity. I think that’s why you stand out from the rest”

You didn’t know how to take this compliment, “I guess”

“You know you have the potential to go so many places?” He asked, tilting his head, waving your sketchbook about in one hand. It was so dark in here, and the building was completely empty except for the two of you. This…felt increasingly inappropriate. You were in the studio after-hours with your professor and he was far too close for comfort. He was your favourite artist…but he was still a grown man and you didn’t want to overstep as a student.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged and stepped closer to you, caging you against the table, “I mean, the right people can get you into any exhibition you dream of in the world. Paris, New York, Seoul. Isn’t that what you fantasise?”

An awkward chuckle escaped you. He was far too close to you, “Yeah. That’s the end goal. The scholarship…would definitely make it easier to get there”

Suddenly, the sound of roaring thunder distracted you and you looked to the windows. The clouds had now hidden the moon, casting a dark shadow over the entire art studio. A chill ran up your spine, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable at his proximity.

“Um..I think the last bus home leaves in twenty minutes. I’ll try to catch it” You stated, shooting him a smile and standing up.

You took your bag, but Kim Jieong grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him, “You can always convince me”

“Sorry?” You fumbled, stupidly. You…had to have heard him wrong. What was he talking about?

He smiled sweetly, and in the dark, his glasses glittered, “If you won the scholarship, the other students wouldn’t question it, you’ve already proven your worth to everyone”

“Right” You were unsure what he was trying to say, or hinting at. What the fuck did he mean by saying that you could convince him? “I should really go”

“It’s pouring. You’ll catch your death out there, Y/N” He stated, pointing to the storm outside. You swallowed, his grip on your arm foreign, “That’s fine. I have an umbrella”

“Ridiculous. I’ll give you a ride home” He shook his head.

“You really don’t have to. I already feel bad for ruining your dinner”

“Oh, stop apologising, Y/N. Your sweet talk drives me mad sometimes” His hand moved from your arm to your waist, wrapping around it and he pulled you closer to his body, "You stress too much. You need to learn to let things go”

You took a step back, unsure how to process this, “Professor…”

He closed the distance, and his other hand grabbed your chin, voice low in the dark room, “Why do you seem so nervous? You don’t have to be around me. We’re just talking, aren’t we?”

“Right” You were having a hard time breathing, panic surging through you. He was right. Of course. He was your professor. He would never hurt you or make you uncomfortable. He was a living legend. You shouldn’t be nervous. He was just being kind to you. He was the only person you’d looked up to your entire life, the reason you’d tried so hard to come here, and he would never do something wrong.

“I can see you struggling in class, and I know you’re doing everything you can to prove your worth. I’ve asked you this before, about what your dream is. ” He spoke, voice as low as a whisper, fingers gripping your jaw.

“I…I don’t know what you mean” Your voice was shaking from the nerves, with no fucking idea how to navigate this situation. If you pushed him away, you’d lose all chance of winning the prize.

“Well….whatever it is” He smiled sweetly, and in the low light he looked less like the mentor you’d grown up loving and more menacing, “All you have to do…is ask me”

His eyes flickered to your lips, and back to your eyes. His grip on your waist was so tight, it felt like his palm was burning into your skin through your shirt. Had you somehow given him an alluded hint? He took a step even closer.

“I’m sorry….” You pushed him just enough so he wasn’t holding you anymore.

He looked surprised, eyes wide, and he laughed, “Y/N…What are you doing?” You grabbed your bag in a hurry, “I’m sorry. I should really go. The last bus…”

He called after you, but you rushed through the glass doors to the emergency stairwell. You didn’t want to be stuck in the elevator with him. You couldn’t breathe, legs moving off their own accord. A flash of lightning through the glass windows scared you, and you all but ran down the emergency stairwell, bag hanging off your shoulder, fists clenched. What the fuck. He obviously wasn’t making a move on you, right? You were just being paranoid. He was your professor. He was…the most famous artist in Seoul. He was the kindest person ever. You had to have been reading into things.

You pushed the heavy door open, walking out onto the street. It was pouring rain, and you let out a breath, taking in the air. The rain soaked through your clothes, and you were shivering. You wanted to call Hyunjin so he could pick you up and so you could cry in his arms, the only place where you'd feel safe, but he'd never even given you his new number. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. You looked down at your hands, and in your tension…you’d completely crushed the photobooth strip to pieces.

Raindrops slowly trickled down, tracing the ruined paper in your palm. The only memory left of you and Hyunjin was now gone.

»»————-

You didn’t show up to class the next day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

You were still trying to wrap your head around it. Were you stupid for declining his advances and whatever he was suggesting? You couldn’t go back to class and face him. You’d be too embarrassed of your reaction. Maybe he wasn’t even suggesting anything and you jumped to conclusions. You had to have been imagining things. After all, he didn't actually do anything. Still, you’d ruined all your chances of getting the scholarship and succeeding in his class. What if he brought it up in class? What would the others think?

Your body was shaking from the cold. The heating in your apartment wasn’t working, so you sat on the floor, back to the kitchen counter, knees pulled up. You’d forgotten your huge canvas in class too, and it was probably in the garbage by now.

Your phone buzzed loudly, and Felix was calling. You picked up so he wouldn’t worry, but your voice sounded hollow, “Yes?”

“Babe. Where have you been? You’re not answering any texts the past week”

“I’m sorry…I got caught up in things. Is everything okay, Felix?”

“More than okay” He smiled on the other end, “I’m at the diner. They’re throwing a big party tonight! Apparently, it’s been ten years since it opened! Can you believe it?”

“Wow…it feels like we’d been going there our whole life”

“That’s what I said!” His excited voice came in, “So anyway for their anniversary celebration…all the drinks and food is free. You best believe I’m making full use of it”

You could hear so many familiar voices in the back, “Who all is there…?”

“Umm…well me and Minho, obviously. Hana’s here too. Seonmi, Eunbi and the others. Seungmin’s here as well.”

“Wow…I really wish I was there, Felix”

“Mm, I wish that too. Your apprenticeship better be worth it, Y/N. You’re missing all the good stuff. And everybody in Daejon misses you a lot. Mrs. Aera came up to me today and said the shop’s a mess without you haha”

“Really? It is? Mina isn’t taking care of it?”

“Ah, you know how Mina is. She can’t organise for the life of her. That shop was basically running because of you” He laughed, and you could hear him chew something.

“What are you eating?”

“Blueberry-chocolate waffles. There’s this new recipe Seonmi is trying out, and it’s so good. You should have it when you come back. How about you, love? Are you missing me a lot?”

“So much” You mumbled.

“Kim Jieong better be worth it” He sighed, “I guess I forgive you because you’ve been obsessed with him for years. Is he as dreamy as you imagined?”

“Um…” Your gut hurt, the memory of that night flooding through you, “Yeah. He’s…great”

“I’m sure he is” Felix chuckled, “I still remember how you stole all the magazines in the library that had his paintings in it”

“I didn’t steal them” You protested, “I just…borrowed them for a really long time”

He laughed, “To fawn all over your artist crush. I get it. And…what about your other lover? You accidentally bumped into him yet?”

You forced a smile, not having enough energy to protest that he wasn’t your lover, “No…I haven’t seen him”

“Well. Seoul isn’t that big, I’m sure you’ll find him. Or he’ll find you. Oh, I also forgot to tell you! A new cafe opened up in Daejon last week. It’s some fusion book-and-coffee cafe. They actually have the best coffee in town, no you didn’t hear me say that Seonmi” He started laughing, and you could hear them in the background. Suddenly, the past few months felt like a joke.

There were only two reasons you’d uprooted your life and come here. Now, you’d lost them both.

So why were you still here?

Maybe you had acted rashly. You thought you’d fit in here, and that this was where you were meant to be. You’d felt stuck there, but here you weren’t any better. You'd probably only found the courage to come here because you knew Hyunjin was here too, and that was clearly...not the right thing to do. He didn't even want you near him, or anywhere in his life. He had made that plenty clear.

“I think I made a mistake” You whispered.

“Sorry?” Felix asked, still laughing loudly, “What mistake?”

“Moving out…I shouldn’t have done that”

“Wait…what? What do you mean?”

“I think I should come home”

“You’re messing with me. Right?” Felix laughed, “Didn’t you want to move to the city since you were fifteen?”

“But I was a kid. I didn’t know anything. I had no idea what to expect”

“Y/N…what are you saying?”

“I was happy in Daejon. I should never have come to Seoul” You stood up, moving to your bedroom.

It was like a parasite, an idea festering into your brain and heart, that maybe this was the reason for this unhappiness. Things were perfect in Daejon. Why had you been complaining all your life? All of your happy memories were there, so the logical thing to do…was go back to where they were created. Then you’d be happy again. You hadn’t learnt how to be happy in this house, in this city, in this new life.

“Babe. I would be the happiest boy in the world if you came home to me, but maybe you should think this through. Did something happen? Why are you being like this?”

You grabbed your duffel bag off the shelf, “I can’t go back to class, Felix! I can’t. I messed up, big time”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t. You could never—”

“You don’t even know what happened!” You yelled. He fell silent on the other end, “Love. Just…what’s going on?”

You stared at your empty bag, “I’m…coming home. I should never have come here”

“Is that Y/N?” Minho’s familiar, comforting voice came in. You wanted to hug him and never let go. They were so far away. “Yeah” Felix responded to him, voice falling, “She says she’s…coming home”

“Give me the phone” Minho mumbled, “Y/N. What’s going on?”

You tossed your clothes in your bag, messily zipping it up, “I can’t stay here, Min”

“But what about the art classes?”

“If I don’t withdraw, I’ll probably be kicked out anyway” You mumbled, “I didn’t go to classes all week"

“You should think this through”

“I have thought it through! It was a stupid fucking mistake. One I needed to make. You know what they say anyway. The grass is greener on the other side. I just fell for the charms of the city, like everybody else”

“No disrespect but you’re making no sense” Minho’s voice was harsh, “You can’t just give up”

“Can you give the phone back to Felix please?” You asked.

“Fine” You heard it being passed around and then his voice came in, “Love. I’m here”

“Lix” You swallowed, “I know it seems like I’m being irrational, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I know it’s embarrassing and stupid, but maybe I was never supposed to be here”

Felix’s voice was so soft, calm, encouraging. You just needed to be near him, in his arms. “I believe you, Y/N. I’m gonna be okay with whatever you decide. I just really want you to think about this”

“I…I want to hug you, Lix” A sniffle escaped you, “I don’t want to go back to class” The idea had completely taken over you.

“Are you sure?”

“Nothing can make me stay” You swallowed. There was a sigh of resignation on the other end, and you knew he wouldn’t fight with you. He would agree with whatever you decided, and that’s what you needed right now. That’s why you called him, and not Yeonjun, or your other friends. Felix was the one person who wanted you home more than anything. He wouldn’t talk you out of it, even if this seemed like the stupidest decision you might be making.

“What do you need me to do?” He asked, voice soft on the other end. Relief spread through you, and you stopped to look at the window outside your apartment, “A train ticket.”

You could sublease your apartment. You could figure the rest out from the comfort of your real home. You could go back to Aera’s, and get your life in order. You’d find a way to love Felix back. After all, he was the only one who wanted you the way you needed to be wanted. Maybe you were destined for that kind of life after all, where everything stays the same everyday. But that’s good, it was safe. The boy you loved had made you think that you belonged in the city, but he couldn't be more wrong.

That’s what you told yourself, at least, ripping your paintings off the wall. In your short-lived time here, you’d made and put them up to feel less lonely. There’d be no room to carry them back, so you bunched them up, carrying them to the garbage disposal in your apartment. As you shoved them in the disposal, you felt nothing. The hallway was warmer than your apartment and it made you feel a tad better.

Your phone buzzed again, and Felix had sent you something. The train ticket he’d bought for you. It was for tomorrow morning. You knew that you could always trust Felix, with anything. He would always be there for you, if nothing else. Perhaps you'd taken your friendship with him for granted this whole time.

“Need some help?” Jeongin asked. He was coming up the stairs, probably after having heard your struggle with the garbage. You shot him a smile, nodding. He came over, helping you, “Are you redecorating?”

“You could say that…”

“Wait. Are these your paintings?” He realised, stopping halfway.

“Can you help me with something?” You looked at him. He looked confused, and he was frowning, “Um. Sure. What do you need help with?”

“My suitcases…I don’t think the elevator is working”

“Are you going somewhere?” He tilt his head, further confusion scrunching his face. In another life, you and Jeongin could have been really good friends.

“I’m just going home for a while” You mumbled, shutting the garbage door. For a while would be forever. He didn’t need to know that. It’s not like he would be sad, or miss your presence.

“Oh. Okay. Of course, I’ll be there in a bit”

Back in your apartment, your phone buzzed again. It was your groupchat with Jeonghan and Minnie. You skimmed through the messages, feeling regretful.

yn are you sick? what’s going on? professor jieong told us you weren’t eligible for the prize anymore

You turned your phone off, staring outside the little kitchen window. The traffic wasn’t as loud as usual. It was a quiet night.

You hugged yourself, trying to find a singular reason to stay. Why had you wanted this life for so long? It had given you nothing but heartbreak, yet a part of you was so sad about leaving tomorrow. You squeezed your eyes shut, a single tear escaping. Maybe you wanted a sign to stay, despite everything in you screaming to leave. When you opened you eyes, your reflection mirrored on the glass pane and then you saw it.

A snowflake drifting down. It twirled in place and your eyes followed its path before it settled on your ledge, quickly crumbling into nothingness.

And then more followed, a flurry of snow falling like stardust. It was beautiful, a cloud of white enveloping everything so quickly, covering the street below.

Your first snow in the city.

A bitter smile tugged at your lips.

The doorbell rang.

Jeongin was already here to help you with the bags.

So much for a sign.

You grabbed your duffel, and your suitcase, wheeling it out. The quicker you moved with things, the easier it would be. Reaching for the rusty brass doorknob, you pulled the door open.

“Can you take this one? I’ll bring the other” You mumbled, pushing your things out. He nodded, still seemingly confused but he asked no questions, “What time’s your train?”

“In a few hours” You glanced at your phone, “But if there’s going to be a snowstorm, I’d prefer being at the station early…”

He grinned, still so happy and you wish he could share his secrets of eternal happiness, “Smart move. If it was me, I’d probably miss my train. Can’t tell you how many times that’s happened”

You smiled at him, “I can’t afford that”

“I called a taxi cab for you” He said. You nodded, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Thank you, Jeongin”

You stepped back into your apartment. There wasn’t much you’d brought with you, so there wasn’t much you had to take back. You’d never grown fond of this apartment. It had always felt like an inbetween place, while you waited your life to be perfect. Waiting was doing no favours for you.

You shoved your sketchbook into your duffel, putting on your coat before closing the apartment door behind you, and your throat closed up as you realised what you were doing. This was so fucking stupid, and this was rash but what else could you even do? Maybe you could come back to the city in the future if you wanted, but right now it was a terrible decision. You would go back home and you would hug Felix, and maybe you would kiss him and the ache in your heart would be better. The thought of his arms around you, as someone who genuinely cared about you, already made you want to cry.

You unceremoniously dragged your bag across the landing, and the taxi must have arrived already because you heard a loud honk.

It was freezing in the otherwise heated hallway. Your breaths came out in soft mists.

The door downstairs must have been left open, sending cold winds and flurries of snowflakes up the apartment.

Jeongin would never forget to do that…

As you approached the top step with your bags, you realised who’d left it open.

Draped in a beige trench coat, cheeks red from the cold, Hyunjin stood at the bottom of your staircase.

»»————-

masterlist ⇒

please let me know if you liked the chapter, or any thoughts on this part! thank you :)

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #hyunjin smut #skz x reader #fluff #hwang hyunjin x reader #fanfiction #skz imagines

671 notes · View notes

cinnamoonblue · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter III | Don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface

Summary: You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Supporting characters: Nami, Usopp, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Deuce, Shanks, Buggy, Sabo, Eustass Kid (more to be add)

Description: Modern AU | Musician Ace

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of smoking, mentions of weed, explicit language, sexual content, MINORS INTERACT ON YOUR OWN RISK (16+)

Word Count: 12,9K

<- previous chapter | story masterlist | main masterlist | next chapter ->

NOTE: This chapter contains a lot of dialogues. More characters are being properly introduced. I don’t want to rush things between Reader and Ace as obviously by now it is a slow-burn story, but from this chapter on you will have more and more interaction between them. I still don’t want to let you entirely into Ace’s mind, as with time all of the things he does and says will have more logic as of why, I just hope that you will be patient enough until then. I’m sure a lot of you might have expected a smut for this chapter, but you will be disappointed, as we are far away from one at least for now xD. Please feel free to leave comments about how you feel about the story and the characters relationship. Also if you enjoy the way I write always feel free to request an image, one-shot or a headcanon and if I have the time I would love to write it ♡ I really hope you enjoy the chapter ♡

“You were right about the picture for the exercise.” Usopp exclaimed when we were leaving class.

“I guess it is the same every year.” We were going to grab a lunch, as our lunchbreak started.

“Are we going back after?” he asked me. It was only him and I here from our assign group, everyone else was sick or not at university today, even Nami.

“Yes, I was going to ask you the same.” I thought for a second if we should go back or call the rest of the day off. We were not having any class with a teacher after, but we were supposed to start writing the story for the exercise today. “Let’s stay and do the story, as we can’t know who is coming tomorrow, and I don’t want to waste time, as we should be done with it by Friday morning.”

“Yeah, we should do that.” He agreed with me, opening the door to the cafeteria and letting me go first. “But what if they don’t like what we come up with?”

“Then they should have been here.” I snorted out. We grabbed some food and sat down in one of the corner tables. Usopp yawned, he locked so tired today.

“All good with you? You look so tired.” I asked him concerned. “Please, don’t get sick and leave me here alone.” I whined and he chuckled at my reaction.

“No, I’m not getting sick. Don’t worry.” He reassured me. “I just had so many things to do over the weekend and didn’t have much time to spend with Kaya, so I tried to make it up to her last night, and I’ve slept for like three-four hours.” He explained, running a hand over his face, trying not to fall asleep.

“Oh, you were making it up to her.” I tease him, wiggling my eyebrows playfully.

“Shut up.” He shushed me, throwing a napkin towards me as I was messing with him.

“What were you busy with this weekend?” I took a bite of my food, curios at what he had done over the weekend that took so much of his time and energy.

“First, I had to go back to my hometown. My mom needed help with moving and selling some old furniture, we had around the house.” He took a bite of his own food. “Then when I came back Luffy’s brothers called me and wanted my help for a song they are releasing at the end of this week.” A little smile twitched on my lips as he mentioned the guys, Ace’s face appearing on my mind. “But something happened with the program we were using for the final touches, so long story short, it took my whole day to restore the files. Ah, anyway how about you?” He brushed it off, not really in the mood to talk about it.

“Nothing interesting. I barely left my place; I was watching movies and napping.” I shrugged. My weekend was quite boring this passed week. Especially the day after I worked at the bar. Shanks made me stay extra time to help around cleaning. Speaking of Shanks, his words about Ace haven’t left my mind, neither did Ace. I caught myself thinking about him from time to time and the little interaction we had.

“Oh, I’m so jealous.” Usopp whined, interrupted my thoughts. He slouched his body on the table, crying for sleep.

“Come one let’s get you some coffee from somewhere.” I cooed, patting his head, making him get up from the chair.

“I’m telling you I almost fall asleep during class.” He stretched his body, trying to wake it up.

We took our stuffs and went to grab some coffee, from the near by cafe. Waiting on the queue to get coffee, we were discussing our project.

“Think about it – a tour in a medieval museum.” Usopp suggested, but I was still not convinced enough.

“I don’t know, I think quite lot of people have already thought of this.”

The weather was quite chilly today. I couldn’t stop shivering, but Usopp didn’t seem affected by it as he was wearing just a green hoodie.

“Yes, but we don’t need the most original idea.” He was right about this. We needed something simple as we were not sure if everyone from our group would be here for the rest of the week.

“How about a man who has nightmares of being tortured in his dreams, and he is calm at first, only to realise that this is actually real this time.” I suggested, as I was sure no one would think of it.

“Good idea, but...” Usopp paused looking at me. “Mine is better.” We said together, laughing at our inside joke. “Let’s get the coffee, and we will decide when we go back. You want one as well? He asked me as it was his turn to order. I needed something warm to drink, so I accepted his offer. He bought me one and I thanked him. As we were walking to one of the sound rooms in school, we saw a big poster hanged on one of the walls.

“Look, they are having a Halloween party this week in here.” I excitedly turned to look at Usopp. “I have lost track of time so bad I have forgotten that Halloween is this week. We should go!”

“Oh God, I forgot to tell you.” Usopp slapped his forehead. “Luffy told me to invite you to the party his brothers are throwing for Halloween. So, we are going to that one and you are coming with us!” He pointed his finger at me, letting me know that he would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

“But I have met them only once, Usopp. I will feel awkward just standing there not knowing anyone, at least here I know people.” I looked at the Halloween poster again. Here I have classmates that I know, even thought they were not as close to me as Nami and Usopp, it still will be less uncomfortable and awkward to be around them.

“What do you mean, you don’t know anyone there?” Usopp grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. “You know me, Nami and the rest of the group now. Luffy told me to invite you himself. On top of it you know his brothers and the rest of the band.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder as we started to walk down the corridor. “Come on, Kaya is also going to be there. You will be surrounded by people who you know.” We entered the sound studio, leaving our bags on the side and taking seat on the chairs. “Come on (Y/N), that party will be ten times better than the one here.” He nagged me.

“Look I will think about it, okay? But no promises.” I tried to negotiate with him.

“Nah, I’m not taking a ‘no’ for an answer.” He wasn’t planning on giving up. “I’m letting Nami know, I’m too soft.” He pulled out his phone and started to text Nami.

“No, Usopp stop!” I grabbed the phone from his hands. “I will think about it – I promise.” I put his phone on the desk. “I will see, I might don’t go to neither of the parties, as I totally forgot that Halloween is coming up, and I don’t have any costume.”

“Nah, that’s it I’m letting Nami know.” He grabbed his phone from the desk again and I just gave up arguing about it. “Done – I sent her a message.” Putting his phone away, he looked at me seriously. “You gonna see, you will have a lot of fun, I promise you.” He winked. “Now back to work.” He clapped his hands, and I rolled my eyes at him.

Halloween is my favourite day of the year – of course I want to dress up and go to party somewhere. Especially the one I got invited to just now. Even without nagging me, I knew that Usopp was right. The problem wasn’t the party, it was the fact that Ace would be there. I wanted to meet him again, but I was also nervous. We have barely spoken, but there was something luring me towards him – something that I couldn’t put my fingers on what it was. It was more than the way he looks that was for sure. I really wanted to get the chance of knowing him. He might turn out like the other guys I have met before – a pretty face and nothing more, but I can’t know until we get to know each other. Just thinking about him made me both excited and nervous.

“Earth to (Y/N).” Usopp waved his hand in my face, bringing me back to reality. “You, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I took out my laptop so we can start writing the script. “So, we are going with my idea, right?” I glanced at Usopp.

“Mine is better but, sure.”

I opened the fridge and sighed deeply, seeing that I have nothing left in it. I hesitated for a second if I should order or go to the store. I needed to buy food anyway, so I grabbed my headphones, my keys and left.

The store was ten minutes walk away from my apartment. I was taking my time wandering through the aisles, it’s not like I had anything to do at home. Passing by the cereals I saw a familiar face. I wasn’t sure if I should go and greet him or not, as we have only met once, but he saw me anyway.

“(Y/N)” Luffy greeted me with a smile, taking his headphones off and I did the same.

“Hey Luffy, nice to see you again.” I smiled at him.

“Yeah, nice to see you as well. How are you?” He asked me.

“I’m good, a little tired from uni, but good.” I chuckled. “How about you?”

“Same.” He shrugged. “Going over to my brother Ace to play some games but stop to buy some snacks.” My body got goosebumps when he mentioned his brother’s name. I looked at the basket in his hands and it was overfloating with snacks.

“Damn, that’s a lot of snacks, are you throwing a party?” I joked.

“Nah, just us two but we eat for like ten people.” We both laughed at his joke. I took a better look at Luffy and noticed how much he and Ace look alike.

“Well, he better lives close by, so you don’t need to carry all of this.” I casually said, but I was curious if by any chance we might end up being neighbours.

“Oh, I wish Ace lived this close by but no, I will have to catch the metro to get to his place.”

“What are you doing in this part of town then?” I asked.

“I live here, my place is exactly next to the supermarket.”

“Nice, we are almost neighbours.” I exclaimed.

“Cool.” Luffy smiled. “By the way, did Usopp told you about the party this Friday?” He got excited mentioning the party.

“Yeah, he did today, but I’m not sure if I will come.” I awkwardly smiled at him.

“What? Why? No!” He was not happy with my answer. “What do you mean, you are not sure if you should come? You are coming! You, see? Easy, peasy.” He bumped his fist on my shoulder, a grin spread across his face.

“As I said to Usopp – I will think about it.” I mocked his gestured.

“Ouch, you are strong.” Luffy massaged his shoulder, pretending to be hurt. “But come on, there isn’t much to think of it, plus if you really don’t like it, you can leave any time you want.” This was the second time we meet, but talking with him felt so natural – his friendly and carefree persona could make everyone feel safe and relaxed around him.

“We will see, Luffy.” He rolled his eyes at my response with a smile. “Well, I’m not gonna bother you any longer, as you have to go to your brother.”

“You are not bothering me at all, but yes I have to get going, as he has been waiting for me for at least two hours know.” He said it so casually like it was something that happens frequently. “But before you go, give me your Insta or something, we are practically neighbours, so we can go on a walk or hang out around someday.” He handed me his phone to put my Instagram on it.

“Of course, we should definitely do this.” I quickly typed my Instagram and followed myself. “Here you go.” I handed the phone back to him.

“Nice, see you around then.” He smiled at me one more time before he went away. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to accept his request and followed him back.

The doorbell rang like crazy; someone was playing with the bell on purpose to annoy Ace. Ace paused the game he was playing and got up to open the front door of his flat.

“Luffy.” He yelled at his brother, pulling him inside as he locked Luffy’s head between his arm and body and started to ruffle his hair. No matter how old Luffy gets in Ace’s eyes he will always remains his little brother, for whom he has unconditional love.

“Uh Ace, stop that.” Luffy tried to escape his brother’s death grip, only to drop the bags he was caring on the ground. “Stop it, I’m not a kid anymore.” He protested, poking on his brother’s side making him release his grip.

“Yes, you are.” Ace bumped Luffy’s shoulder laughing at his reaction. Ace picked up the bags, from the floor to leave them on the kitchen counter. “What took you so long again?” He shouted from the kitchen, while Luffy was taking his shoes off.

“Nothing.” Luffy went straight to the living room, sitting on the sofa and grabbing one of the controllers. “I went to buy snacks and then I saw (Y/N), and we chitchat for a bit.”

“(Y/N)? Shanks’ niece?” Ace sat next to him, grabbing his own controller. Luffy nodded in response. “You know her?” His curiosity piqued. Until that night he didn’t even know that Shanks has a niece. Ace glanced at his brother who had his eyes focused entirely on the new game they started.

“Nah, I met her last Friday, when you were playing.” Luffy casually answered.

“Did you know that Shanks has a niece?” Ace asked; knowing that his brother won’t get suspicious at all at such question.

“Yeah, I was aware of that, but I had never met her before. She is also Nami and Usopp’s classma- YES!” Luffy yelled as he won the round. “She is cute, tho.” This caught Ace by surprise.

“Oh, is she?” His whole attention now on his brother. “Having a crush, hu?” The tone in his voice slightly changed. Luffy glanced at Ace for a second, shaking his head.

“Hell, no! Not like that cute” He exclaimed loudly. “I’m not crossing that line, there.” He shook his head in fear. “I don’t know which would be scarier – Nami killing me for hitting on her friend or Shanks breaking my neck if it even crosses my mind.” Ace just snorted at his brother’s reaction; even thought he remembered the way Shanks eyes warned him in the club when he interrupted their conversation. Not like it was going to stop him, but he did get the warning.

“I invited her to the Halloween party, by the way.” Luffy added, eyes not leaving the screen.

“Is she coming?” Ace attention taken away from the game when Luffy blurted that you were invited.

“She said that she is not sure, yet. But knowing Nami she won’t have much of a choice and she will come.” Luffy chuckled, thinking of Nami and how insistent she could be if she wants too. Ace smiled to himself. “What you smilin’ at?” Luffy interrupted his thoughts.

“At the fact that I’m beating your ass in this game.” Ace quickly lied; his attention directed fully on the screen now.

“Beating my ass? You haven’t won a single round since I came here.” He bumped Ace’s shoulder.

“No, I just let you win.” Ace laughed.

I got home and prepared myself a quick meal. I sat down to eat while scrolling on my phone. I saw that Luffy has posted a story and clicked on it – a picture of a TV screen with a game on it with a caption ‘Beat his ass’ and under it he had mentioned Ace’s profile. I paused the story for a second, before clicking on the mentioned button. Ace’s profile was public, and I stalked him for a little bit. He didn’t have much posted – four main posts and some highlights. He didn’t really had pictures of himself alone. His main posts were two pictures with him and his brothers, one from some music festival he had been too, and the fourth one was a picture of their EP album’s cover. His highlights were mostly of the band making music. The profile picture he had was nice – a black and white photo with his right-side profile, a hat was hanging on the back of his bare shoulders revealing his messy black hair and the red beams neckless around his neck. He was handsome to look at. A little blush appeared on my cheeks as I started to think about him again. My thoughts were interrupted by my phone ringing. I saw Nami’s name on the screen and I swiped to answer her.

“Hell-“

“Give me one good enough reason of why you don’t want to come to the party.” She wasted no time getting straight to the point.

“Yeah, (Y/N) hello to you as well, how are you doing?” I mocked her.

“Come on, you know why I’m calling.” She shushed me. “Please, come to the party it will be fun, I promise” At this point I started to get a deja-vu. She was the third person today who told me the exact same thing.

“I don’t have a costume.”

“So do I, we can go tomorrow after classes to search for something, we can even match.” She excitedly said.

“I don’t know Nami...why don’t you ask Vivi? You can match with her instead.”

“If I wanted to match with Vivi, I was going to speak with her now – not with you.” Nami responded to me sarcastically, and I could tell she probably rolled her eyes.

“Can’t I have some time to think about it fir-?”

“No!” She cut me off fast. “Because we don’t have much time to come up with the costumes.”

“We have like four days until Friday.” I groaned. This was starting to get annoying.

“Three.” She corrected me. “On top of it we have to think what we should match as and al-“

“Fine, fine – you know what fine.” I interrupted her. “I’m coming just so I don’t have to have this conversation again.” I sighed defeatedly. I removed the phone from my ear as Nami loudly squealed.

“I knew that you would say ‘yes’.” She mocked me, knowing that I got pissed at her.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” I rolled my eyes.

“Think of ideas for matching costumes so tomorrow after class we can go shopping.” She told me before ending the conversation.

I sighed looking back at my phone screen, still on Ace’s Instagram profile. A tingling feeling boiled up inside of me, knowing that we will probably see each other at the party. I left my plate in the sink and went to lay in bed. ‘Maybe going to the party will be fun after all.’ I thought to myself, a little smile on my face. My phone rang one more time, my dad’s picture popping up on the screen requesting to facetime me.

“How is my little girl doing?” His cheerful, loud as aways, voice filled up the room.

“Dad why is your hair blue again; I thought you outgrew your Emo period?” I mocked him. He got into colouring his hair a few years ago, and sometimes the colours were outrageous.

“To represent my sadness and sorrow, as my precious daughter haven’t called her dad for almost two weeks now.” He faked a cry. I playfully rolled my eyes at his little act.

“I’m sorry, I was just busy.” I did feel bad that I haven’t called him in such a long time. “How are you? I saw on your profile that you have sold out all the shows till the rest of the year.” A big grin on his face appeared as I mentioned this.

“Yes, can you believe it? Your old man is a star.” He raised his chin acting like a royalty.

“My old man is a diva, not a star.” I joked with him. “I’m proud of you dad, there is no better comedian than you.” I told him, as both my eyes and tone were filled up with love.

“Oh, baby girl – my biggest achievement is being your dad.” I could see his eyes tearing a little bit. I have always known that it was not easy at all for him to raised me alone, but I will forever be grateful for it. “Enough for me, now tell me; how is school going, any guy catching your eye?” He teased me.

“No, school is great, and no guy has caught my eye.” I lied, but the small smile and blush on my cheeks gave me away.

“Lier, lier, pants on fire.” He called out my little lie. “There is someone. Is it just a crush or something serious?” He wiggled his eyebrows to which I giggled.

“It’s nothing dad.” I tried to brush it off, as my face was burning hot.

“If it’s nothing then why blushing like that?” He mocked me. “Tell Buggy – who got his little girl heart swept away?”

“It’s really nothing, just some guy I met only once and we talked for like ten minutes at best, so it’s nothing.” It was nothing actually, Ace and I have barely spoken, I was just attracted to his charm, that is all – I thought to myself.

“Is he from your class?” Dad curiously asked me.

“No, he is not. But it turned out that he is a friend of my friends.”

“So, what now? Are you in a contact with him?” Growing up I didn’t have many friends, as I was quite a shy kid, but my dad was always there – till this day he was my best friend and I’ve always known that my secrets were safe with him. Talking about boys with him was nothing new, but still, this was the first time that I really felt awkward about it.

“No, but there is this party on Friday that he and his brothers are throwing, and I got invited.” I got flushed again.

“Did he invite you? Are you going?” He started to throw question after a question at me.

“No, his brother who is Nami and Usopp’s best friend told them to invite me, and they were not taking a ‘no’ for an answer, so – yes, I’m going.”

“Is he going to be there?” He wiggled his eyebrows, teasing me.

“I hope so, yes.” I muttered.

“How did you meet?”

“The first time we met was at this coffee shop that I’ve told you about. I forgot my charger and saw that he had the same laptop as mine and I went to ask him if I can borrow it. Then he came and sat down with me, and we spoke for a little bit and then – omg dad you won’t believe it, he immediately got my ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’ reference.” I excitedly said my eyes filled with sparkles, my dad smiling at my reaction. “And then the same night I was working at Shanks’ bar, and he was performing there, as he has his own band and they are so good by the way, and he is such a good singer, and yeah we met again, and we started to chitchat, but Shanks came and destroy everything as always.” I didn’t realise that I was blabbing. “So yeah, it’s nothing as I said.” I brushed it off.

“Baby girl.” He chuckled. “It is not nothing. You obviously have a crush on the guy.”

“No, dad I don’t. How could I? We have barely talked; he is just good looking and I’m bad at reading guys, you know this.” I shook my head, disagreeing with what he was saying.

“We are all attracted by looks first.” He scolded me. “But sometimes we don’t need much to like someone, especially with the enthusiasm you were telling me your little story it does sounds and looks like you have a crush on the guy – so go get him!” He encouraged me.

“Dad, you know as a father, you should be grumpy and unencouraging when your daughter has a crush not the opposite.” I chuckled.

“Ahaa you see you do have a crush on the guy.” He mocked me. “And when have I been like the other dads?” He asked me seriously. “Plus, I want to see you happy, baby girl.” His voice filled with love. “And also, when you were little, you promised me no boyfriends until you were sixteen, you are five years behind schedule – as much as I’m glad about this I think it’s time for you to experience love.” Even thought he was joking; I felt the hint of honestly behind his words.

“I’m doing pretty good on my own. I don’t need a boyfriend.” I pause for a second. “Plus, he is surrounded by girls, I told you he is the vocalist in their band, so I’m just you know...” I shrugged. “One of the many.” This was something I was trying to ignore thinking about. I was not blind or stupid – I saw how many girls went and hit on him and his bandmates after the show.

“Every man who chose another girl over you, my precious girl, will be the biggest fool the world will ever know.” He has always found ways to melt my heart.

“Thank you, dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too darling. Take care of yourself. Next time we speak you better have some update on your crush.” He pointed his finger at the camera.

“Yeah, sure dad. Bye.” I waved at him and ended the conversation.

I looked at the time and it was already 10:47PM, so I decided to get ready to sleep. I brushed my teeth and put some oversized t-shirt on and got into bed. Today was a very tiring day.

The next day only – Nami, Usopp and I showed up from our group in university.

“Well, at least is the three of us.” I said as we were looking for the equipment we were going to use for the project.

“True, we don’t need anyone else.” Usopp agreed with me picking up a few microphones that we were going to need to record the sounds.

“Please repeat – so we are going to record some sounds from outside, and then the rest of the sounds that we will need, we record in the sound room?” Nami asked again, as she was still confused of what our plan exactly was.

“Exactly.” Usopp and I responded at the same time.

“Okay, do we have everything?” She asked as we looked around to see if we were missing something.

“No, I think we are good to go.” I replied taking one last look around the equipment room before we left.

We went to the park that was close by our university. Walking around, looking for an aera where there weren’t a lot of people around, took us some time. After thirty minutes we finally found a place.

“Okay so...” I clapped my hands getting their attention as they were carefully putting the equipment on the ground. “I will do the sound recording, one of you will need to do the sounds we need for it and the other just can just chill.” I quickly explained.

“I can do the sounds. Nami can rest.” Usopp said.

“Perfect. Help me just connect the mic to the boom pole.” I asked Nami for her help. We quickly fix the microphone and connected it to the audio recorder. “Say something.” I put the headphones on and started to adjust the sound and the frequencies. Nami started to talk to the microphone until I was satisfied with it.

“Okay, nice we are ready to start. Usopp please stand where the big pile of leaves is.” Usopp nodded at me and went to stand where I told him to. I went and crouched a little next to him. “I want you to start stepping heavy on the leaves first.” I instructed him. “Nami, do you want to call the slates?” I asked her with a smile, knowing how much she loves to do this.

“Of course I want.” She came closer to us and crouched to the microphone. “Quiet on set please! Sound?”

“Rolling.” I said.

“Scene one, take one – Action!” Nami said and Usopp started to step on the leaves as I’ve told him to. It took us an hour to record everything we needed. From the of sound the leaves to the sound of some birds flying by.

“That was fast.” Nami exclaimed.

“Of course, with a professional actor like me you didn’t even need more than two takes.” Usopp patted himself on the shoulders, for the job he had done. We laughed at him and his cockiness.

“Before we go let’s record one take of you screaming here, as in the sound room it will be way too clean.” I stopped them from putting the equipment back. “I just want to have a record from here, just in case.” They both agreed with me.

I held the microphone up close to Usopp face ready to record. He was about to scream but Nami stopped us.

“Wait, I want to take video of this, I have a feeling I will regret it if I don’t.” She pulled her phone up and gave us the thumbs up to start recording. I nodded to Usopp to scream whenever he felt ready. I jumped out of surprise of how loud Usopp screamed and dropped for a second the boom pole, hitting him on the nose with the microphone, before I was able to catch it. I removed the headphones from my head as my ears hurt from the volume of the scream. Nami couldn’t stop laughing hysterically.

“Usopp, are you okay?” I placed my hand on hid shoulder as he was holding his nose.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you okay, what happened?” He looked at me confused.

“The headphones were on a full volume, and I didn’t realise it, and then you screamed so loud, I got startled, and the volume hurt my ears.” I explained. “I’m so, so sorry.” I apologised, feeling so bad that he was got hurt.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt that bad.” He patted me on the shoulder reassuring me that everything was okay.

“Guys, guys.” Nami shouted running toward us. “Please, look at the video.” She couldn’t stop laughing. We looked at her phone and she pressed play. The video was hilarious – from the moment I almost dropped the microphone and my reaction, to the moment where it hit Usopp and he grabbed his nose. Even if we were planning to stage it wouldn’t have turned out this good and all three of us burst out laughing.

“This is hilarious.” Usopp fell to the ground holding his stomach unable to stop laughing.

“I’m posting this, I’m sorry guys but this has to be posted.” Nami opened her Instagram and posted the video on her story tagging Usopp and me. After we calmed down a little, we tried once again to record the scream, but this time without any headphones. We officially wrapped and went back to university.

“And it’s a wrap!” Nami announced once we were done recording in the sound room.

“I can’t believe we manage to do it in one day.” I was amazed by how fast we were moving on the project so far. “If we manage to edit it tomorrow, we will be free on Thursday, and just need to come on Friday morning for evaluations.”

“And then we go to party.” Usopp started to dance on his chair. “I can’t wait, you will never guess what Kaya and I are going to be dressed as.” He smirked at Nami and me.

“Like what? Super Mario and Princess Peach?” Nami raised her eyebrow.

“No, you wanna guess (Y/N)?” He spined on chair facing me.

“I-I don’t know. Barbie and Ken?” He shook his head ‘no’ at my guess. “Then?”

“Metro Boomin and Future.” He threw some gang signs at us, while Nami and I looked at each and burst out laughing.

“What? Why? How?” I was speechless. “How did you even come up with this?” I needed to know what born this idea in their minds.

“Was it your idea Usopp? Oh, poor Kaya.” Nami huffed.

“Um, ladies – to your surprise it was not an idea that my mind came up with it, it was Kaya’s.” He raised his hands in the air like someone was pointing a gun toward him.

“I’m repeating (Y/N)’s question – how?” Nami asked him, we were both still in shock.

“She saw something in TikTok, some girl dressed as Future, and she sent it to me and said that she wants to be him for this Halloween, so I was okay I will be Metro then.” Nami and I looked at each other still a little confused then back at Usopp. “Why are you looking at me like this? At least our idea is original – who many other couples you know that will go as them?” He mocked us.

“Well, here you have a point.” I agreed with him. “You will definitely win most original couple costume of the night.” I mocked him.

“What are you two going to be? Do you plan to match?” He asked us.

“Well, we haven’t decided, yet.” I said.

“Something sexy for sure.” Nami winked, a smug smirk growing on her face. I looked at her knowing that she has had already something in mind.

“Oh no. You’ve already come up with something.” I was scared to ask what it was, as I had this feeling that I won’t like it.

“How about a dark and a light angle?” She suggested, looking at me expecting my reaction.

“Yeah...but no.” I shook my head not being very found of the idea.

“Why not?” She was surprised by my answer.

“It’s too basic, there will be at least four other girls dress the exact same way.” Last thing I wanted for Halloween was to wear a boring costume.

“Do you have anything better than that then?” I could see that she agreed with me on this.

“Actually, yeah. But I’m not sure if you gonna be down for it.” I smirked knowing that my idea was way better than hers. I took a dramatic pause before I tell her. “Donkey and Puss from Shrek, bam.”

“That is actually a super cool idea.” Usopp nodded at me, clearing liking my idea.

“As long as you are Donkey.” Nami pointed her finger at me, I laughed knowing that if she agreed I would have to be Donkey.

“Sure, I will be Donkey.”

“A sexy Donkey.” She winked at me, and I rolled my eyes at her.

We sat for a little bit more and chitchat while waiting for the recordings to save on my hard drive. Nami was on her phone and suddenly she burst out laughing. Usopp and I turned our heads towards her wondering what caused her outburst.

“Luffy just replied to my story.” She continued to laugh, holding her stomach. “He-he said ‘Usopp did a nice catch with the nose, Ace and I can’t stop laughing.” Usopp and I started to laugh, until Nami mentioned Ace’s name. I cringed thinking about him seeing my face and rection. The computer made a sound that the files were transferred so I fixed that while Nami and Usopp were texting Luffy.

“Okay, guys it’s all done now. We can go.” I told them, as I started to put my stuffs in my bag. “What time should we come tomorrow?”

“I say around 10AM.” Usopp suggested, and I nodded. They grabbed their bags, and we left.

The rest of the days went by fast. Wednesday before I met with Nami and Usopp I stopped by my favourite coffee shop, part of me was expecting to see Ace there, but I didn’t. Today I gave it another try but it was the same as on Wednesday.

After we finished with our evaluations for the project, a few classmates asked me if I was coming to the Halloween party tonight, but I told them that for now I was not sure if I will be able to make it. They told me to come, as it would be fun, but I couldn’t make any promises.

“Why don’t we go for a little bit to the party they are throwing here in uni?” I suggested to Nami, as we were going to her place to get ready for tonight.

“Because we are going to a better one.” She scoffed.

“Come on, let’s go for just one drink and then we go straight to Luffy’s, please.” I nagged her, as I really wanted to go and hang up with our classmates for a bit.

“Okay, but only one drink.” She muttered. I squeaked happily and hugged her.

“Damn, we look good.” Nami exclaimed as we were checking ourselves in the mirror in her bedroom.

I was wearing a grey mini skirt with a silver corset on top, which Nami tighten a little bit too much, with a pair of black boots. I let my hair down as I was wearing a donkey ears on top of my head. Nami was dressed in light brown mini skirt with an orange corset on top and brown boots. On top of her long ginger hair, that was falling freely on her back, she had put cat ears. We took some pictures before heading to the party at university first. A lot of our classmates were already there when we arrived. I started to chitchat with some of them, as Nami went to get us something to drink. She came back giving me a can of beer.

“Sadly, beer is all I could find. We were supposed to bring our own booze.” She huffed, I could see that she was already eager to leave.

“Come on, at least fake it for me that you enjoy it.” I nagged her. She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Who gave you this by the way?” I took a sip of the beer.

“Some guy from year two.”

“Didn’t you take for yourself?” I was surprised, usually she never turns down things given to her for free.

“Nah, you know I’m not a fan of beer. But I will look around and see if someone has something stronger.” She patted me on the shoulder and left.

I continued to speak and laughed with some of the people from our class. We took some pictures and started to play some card game that took me some time to understand. I was having a lot of fun at the party here. Soon I finished my drink, and someone offered me another one, but I kindly denied their offer. I excused myself and went to look for Nami. She was sitting on one of the couches in school, talking with some girls from the second year; I got close to them and interrupted their conversation.

“Sorry for interrupting girls.” I apologised to them. “Nami, you want to go or stay a little longer?”

“Are you kidding me – let’s go.” She quickly got up and waved goodbye to the girls.

As we were walking to the metro station, I realised I have no idea where we were going.

“By the way I forgot to ask you, who’s house are we going to?” I was shaking a little bit because of the cold weather. I took a very tin jacket with me which wasn’t keeping me warm at all, on top of it my legs were bare.

“Deuce’s place. They usually throw parties at his house, as he is the only one who owns one.” She explained, and then looked at me. “Are you cold? You are shivering like crazy.” Her eyes were filled with concern.

“Yea, I’m freezing. I should have taken a long coat like you.” I wrapped my arms around myself, shivers running all over my body.

“Oh, come here.” She pulled me to the side of her body wrapping me in her arms trying to warm me up a little. “You are going to get warm once we get to the party.” She winked at me.

We finally reached the metro station and caught the metro. Twenty minutes later we were in front of Deuce’s house. The music coming from it could be heard from miles away. Getting closer I noticed that there were quite lot of people. Some of them greeted Nami as we were walking toward the entrance. Once we stepped inside everything looked crazy. Whoever took care of the decoration did a very good job. The place was a two-storey house. The hallway was leading to a very spacious living room on the left side, and the kitchen was right at the end of it. On the right side of the entrance was the staircase to the second floor. We looked around until we could find someone familiar.

“I will check the kitchen; you check the living room.” Nami yelled in my ear as the music was way too loud. I was going to protest and tell her to not leave me alone, but she quickly disappeared. ‘Great’ I thought to myself. I took my jacket off and hung it by the door, where it was already formed a big pile of jackets. I took a deep breath and started to walk towards the living room. Looking around searching for someone familiar, I was also carefully checking if anyone by any chance might be Ace. I felt like a lost deer in the middle of the living room. Someone bumped into me and didn’t even apologise.

“Ass.” I called out after him, but he didn’t pay me any attention.

I looked around once more until my eyes landed on the couch. There were two guys sitting on it dressed the same – black pants, tight black shirts defining their muscular bodies with Ghostface masks on. On both of their sided were sitting two girls. The one on the right side had his arm wrapped around the girl who was sitting with her legs on his lap, his other hand on the couch. While the guy siting on the left side had a guitar on his lab and the girl sitting next to him leaned on his shoulders. The two girls were dressed as a dark and a light angle, and I made a mental note to myself tell Nami – ‘I told you’. I was about to turn around when the guy holding the guitar caught my attention. It wasn’t him but the tattoos on his arms that did it, they looked oddly familiar. Then it hit me – I recognised the tattoos, this must be Law, the guy from Ace’s band. I took look at the guy next to him dressed exact same, wondering who it might be. The girl sitting on his lap turned her head towards my direction and so did the guy. I quickly looked away realising that I was staring at them. I tried to make my way around until I saw a familiar green buzz cut.

“Zoro.” I yelled trying to catch his attention. Surprisingly, he heard me and turn around.

“Yo, wat’s up?” He greeted me, as he pulled me for a hug with his left arm. “Are you a donkey?” He eyed my costume.

“Yeah, Donkey from Shrek.” I grabbed my ears and moved them playfully. “Do you like it?” I spined around so he could take a better look.

“Ye, sure. You look nice for a donkey.” He nodded at me, his tone cool and unbothered as always.

“What are you dressed as?” I ran my eyes on his costume.

“Guess.” He challenged me.

“Hmm...” I took a better look at his costume until I noticed the symbol on his yukata. “No way, you are dressed as a samurai from old Wano.” He chuckled at me and nodded. His costume was amazing. “How did you come up with it?”

“You know, I’m into marshal arts, and I have some roots from Wano. So... yea, I decided to pay a little tribute to my roots this year.” He was quick and short with his explanations.

“Where are the re-“ I didn’t finish my question as I heard someone behind me.

“There you are.” Usopp shouted, pulling me for a hug.

“Metro, make it boom.” I shouted at Usopp checking him out. “Damn, Usopp you look good tonight, I think you should dress like this more often.” He was dressed exactly like Metro Boomin from his lates album cover – black suit and white shirt, the white bandana wrapped around his forehead, his hair braided and as a last touch he even wore the exact same sunglasses as him. “Where is Future?” I joked, looking around for Kaya.

“Future is in the kitchen doing shots with Nami and sent me to get you there.” He nodded at us to follow him. Before we leave the living room, I took a glance towards the couch. It was only Law sitting on it with the girl from earlier. His mask was lifted now, and I could easily see his face. He and the girl were too busy making out with each other. Part of me was wondering if the other guy might be Ace. But then this unpleasant feeling bubbled inside of me when I remembered the girl sitting on his lap and the way his arm was wrapped around her. I tried to shake the feeling away and focus on my friends instead. After all it might not be him.

As we entered the kitchen, I quickly spotted Nami and Kaya. Kaya looked at us and waved her hand. She pulled me in a tight hug once we were next to them.

“(Y/N), I’m so happy to see you.” By the sound of her voice, I could tell that she was already tipsy. Her usual shy persona was long gone.

“Me too, Future. Nice drip.” I complimented her, as her look like Future turned out pretty good. She was wearing this long thick faux fur coat, her eyes hidden behind round sunglasses, and her neck was covered in so many silver and sparkling chains – she did an amazing job recreating his look as well.

“Wake up, take a sip of Ace of Spade like it's water.” She started to rap his verse from Low Life and we all started to laughed as she started to throw gangster signs at Usopp and screaming in his face ‘If she catch me cheating, I won't ever tell her, "sorry"’. Usopp was looking at her in disbelief as we couldn’t contain our laughter. If someone told me earlier today that I would witness drunk Kaya rapping at her boyfriend how she would cheat on him while throwing gangster signs I would have never believe it.

“This is what I get for being a good boyfriend.” He grabbed her face and shushed her with a kiss. In her drunken state she wasted no time to deepening their kiss.

“Get a room, you two.” Someone cheerfully yelled at them, we all turned our heads to see Luffy’s big grin as he joined our circle. He was dressed as Spiderman. His skinny but muscular body was fitting the costume very good, he could play a real life Spirdeman man if he wanted to. The only missing part of his costume was the mask.

“What took you so long guys?” He asked Nami and me, as he pulled us for a hug. “You two look great by the way.” He complimented us. “What are you a donkey and what? A cat demon from hell?” He poked Nami on the sides messing with her.

“Luffy.” Nami whined. “I’m Puss from Shrek, and (Y/N) is the Donkey.” She explained to him.

“Wow, nice. I like this.” He gave us the thumbs up. “(Y/N), you look too sober, let’s get you drunk. Nami you too.” He poured up three glasses with rum and coke, then before he handed them to us, he filled all the way up six shot glasses with vodka. “Everyone, grab a shot of vodka.” He shouted, as he raised one of the shot glasses in the air. “Let’s make this night memorable.” We all cheered and took the shots in one sip. The strong taste of the vodka was burning my insides as my whole body twitched from the feeling of it. Luffy handed Nami and me, the drinks he made for us and himself.

“Yo, Luffy we should roll one, now that everyone is here.” Zoro turned to Luffy.

“Hell yeah.” He shouted, agreeing with Zoro. “No wait, we are not all here. Where is Sanji? I swear I saw him.”

“Do we really need him?” Zoro snorted.

“He is upstairs.” Usopp said pointing at the ceiling.

“What is he doing upstairs? Someone goes get him.” Luffy said not getting the hint.

“He is banging some chick Luffy.” Nami clarified for him. Luffy’s eyes widen, and he grinned.

“Well, good for him. Get it Sanji” Luffy chuckled, and we all laughed. “Okay, Zoro come with me to find Sabo as I think he has some of the good one tonight.”

Nami made us four more shots, but Usopp told her to not give Kaya more, and that she needed some cold air, so they went outside for a bit.

“This is for us two then.” She handed me two shot glasses. “One after the other.” She warned me. I followed her orders without protesting and we quickly took the shots. We grabbed the rum and cola that Luffy made us and started to look around at the party. Some people were playing some card game, and we decided to join. They quickly explained the rules, which were simple, and we started to play with them. Nami rolled the dice first and it landed on blue, she took a blue card of the pile and read it out loud.

“Give this card to the person with the least bodies.” She looked around not knowing the people we were playing with. “Okay who here is virgin?” She asked and everyone laughed. “As I expected, okay who here has slept with more than one person.” They all laughed again as she was saying the funniest jokes on Earth. “Then, darling, this card belongs to you.” She handed me the card and I rolled my eyes at her. It was my turn now. I rolled the dice, and it landed on pink. It was dare.

“Take off your shirt or drink three shots.” I shook my head. “I’m taking the shots.” Some of the guys booed me, but I ignored them. Someone brought me three shot glasses full of some pink liquor. “It’s watermelon sour shot, they are harmless don’t worry.” The girl who handed me the shots reassured me. I thanked her and drank the shots. She was right they were rather sweet than bitter. We continue to play a few more rounds with them until Nami nodded me to move somewhere else. I could feel that I was getting tipsy. I got a hold of her hand and stopped her for a second.

“Nami, do you know where the toilet is, I really need to pee.” I asked her as I was holding it for a quite some time now.

“Yea, it’s upstairs. But please, hold it for a second so we can drink two more shots.” She dragged me with her to some table full of shots. She handed me two again.

“What is it in it?” I asked as I had no idea what I was holding. Nami lift it to her nose and smelled it.

“Oh, it’s Jägermeister – now chuck.” She already drank hers before I even lifted mine. I scrunched my nose at the smell of it – not being a fan of Jägermeister, but still drank it. I saw her pulling her phone texting someone. “Okay, everyone is at the backyard ready to smoke, let’s go.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me after her.

“No, Nami, wait.” I stopped her. “I need to go pee; you go outside I will find you.”

“Are you sure? I can come with you?”

“No, just go. I will be fine.” I waved at her making my way upstairs. As I was going up the stairs, I could feel that those two last shots were bad idea. I got to the second floor and there I was met with four doors, and I didn’t know which one was the toilet. I opened the first one on the right and it was just a small storage room. I tried with the second door on the right and when I opened it, I froze on the spot. The room was dark, but because of the open door some light got in and there was one of the guys with the Ghostface mask with one of the girls. One of his hands was wrapped around her throat choking her, while the other was pulling her hair. He was so focused on fucking her from behind that he didn’t realise what was going on until she screamed. The guy looked up and stopped immediately. I realised what just happened and quickly closed the door. I tried opening the first door on the left and finally it was the toilet. My heart was going to explode in my chest. Because of the dim light I couldn’t see who it was. ‘Did I just walk on Law having sex? Or it was the other masked dude?’ I thought to myself. I looked at myself it the mirror. My makeup was a little smudged at this point and my hair was messy, I sighed at the look of myself. I quickly peed and washed my hands. I was a little scared to go out of the bathroom, what if the guy got mad and he was looking to kill me know?

“I watch too many movies” I murmured to myself. I opened the door and there was no one. I quickly ran down the stairs which wasn’t a good idea as I almost tripped and fell but I got a hold of myself on the railing. I hit my knee in it and I hissed from the pain, hoping no one saw that. I stopped in the middle of the hallway as everything was spinning around me, the alcohol finally kicking in. It felt like there are more and more people in the house since we came, as if it was possible. I didn’t know which way the backyard was, and I felt a little lost. As I was looking around trying to focus my sight, I felt someone gently putting their hands on my shoulders.

“Are you lost, doll?” Someone whispered in my ear. Shivers ran down my spine. I turned around quickly to face the person behind me. It was the Ghostface masked guy. I stepped back, as I wasn’t sure if he was the one I caught upstairs just a few minutes ago. What if he got mad at me? He was quite taller than me, I was faced with him muscular chest. The tight shirt on him defining every inch of muscles he had on his body. I looked at his hands searching for tattoos but there were none, so it wasn’t Law, but why would Law call me doll in a first place? His arms were toned and veined and there was something on his left biceps. My eyes run up his left arm. On top of his left bicep was a tattoo, all I could of see was a crossed out ‘S’ and ‘E’. The guy was just looking at me with the mask on, without saying anything, like we were in one of the scenes in the movie ‘Scream’. I held my breath for a second, feeling intimidated but weirdly attracted by him. The alcohol gave me a big push of confidence, and I spoke first.

“You want to play a psycho killer?” I asked him the exact same thing the actress in the movie did, and he nodded just like the killer in the movie.

“Can I be the helpless victim?” I tease him the same way the actress did, and he nodded again.

“No please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel” I flutter my eyelashes at him. He came a step closer to me, and just ran his finger across my neck, as he was slitting it. The feeling of his fingers felt like they left a path of fire on it. My breath got caught in my lungs and electricity ran all over my body. The guy took off his mask, and I was met with Ace’s messy hair and charming smile.

“Hey there, beautiful.” His were eyes half lidded, but there was something in the way he was looking at me. “Are you lost? I can always help to guide you.” His voice was smooth and raspy at the same time.

“Ace.” My eyes widen at the sight of him. My confidence left me, when he was standing so close to me. “I-I no, no, I’m not lost, but I’m looking for the backyard.” I cleared my throat trying to compose myself.

“Relax, you will be on the sequel.” He joked with me. “Come they are looking for you.” He nodded me to go with him, as he put his hand on my waist guiding me. This simple gestured caused my cheeks to become flaming hot. We made our way to the backyard, and everyone were there, even Sanji and Ace’s other brother – Sabo with his girlfriend.

“Did you fall in the toilet?” Nami asked me sarcastically.

“Ha-ha, so funny.” I responded to her.

“Sorry (Y/N), we smoked the joints before you come.” Luffy awkwardly scratched his neck. “Next round I’m rolling you one for yourself only.” He giggled and I could tell that he was quite high at this point.

“It’s okay, I’m way too tipsy anyway.” I waved him off with a smile. Everyone started to chitchat something among themselves. Zoro and Sanji were arguing about something while Luffy couldn’t stop laughing at them. Usopp was making sure that Kaya was on her feet, as she had drunk too much alcohol, and now on top of it she was high. Nami was speaking something with Koala, who was leaning on her boyfriend Sabo. My body shiver slightly as the night was getting colder, and the alcohol wasn’t helping, as I stared to feel more tired than in the mood for a party.

“Are you having fun?” Ace came closer to me.

“Uh, yea... just l-little tired that is all.” I awkwardly chuckled, shivers ran down my spine feeling him so close.

“Looks like you are freezing. Do you want to go inside?” His tone was gentle.

“No, I need some air. Plus, inside is way too loud.” I brushed off his offer. “I will be fine, don’t worry.” A slightly blushed bloomed on my cheeks. I looked away trying to hide it. Alcohol usually gives people confidence, not the opposite, but tonight it wasn’t helping me at all.

“But you are freezing, doll.” He remarked, looking at my shivering body. “Let’s go somewhere where you can have both some cold air and be warm at the same time.” He whispered in my ear.

“Where?” I slightly tilted my head looking him in the eyes as he had bend over a little to meet my gaze.

“Come.” He just nodded at me to follow him, and I did. I turned around to look at the rest of the group but only Sabo was looking at us with a smirk. I lowered my gaze to the ground, as the blushed deepened on my cheeks.

Going back inside the house Ace got stopped a few times by some people greeting him. Some of them were girls, and the looks they sent my way weren’t very friendly. As we were going up the stairs Ace stopped and looked over his shoulder at me and asked if I want something to drink. I told him that a glass of water would be perfect, as I was feeling super thirsty. He nodded at me and told me to wait for him in the hallway upstairs. It didn’t take him long to come back. He handed me the glass of water and I thanked him. Ace started to walk to the second door on the right and as he was grabbing the doorknob to opened it, I stopped him.

“No, no, no. Do not open this door.” I still remember the scene from earlier when I caught the masked guy with the girl. Then it hit me like a truck – as I knew now that it was Ace and Law dressed the same, was it possible that I caught Ace there earlier. I looked at him a little suspicious as I let go of his hand. He raised his eyebrow at me, confused about what was going on.

“Why not?” He let go of the doorknob, turning all his attention to me.

“Well, y-you know w-why.” I avoided looking at him.

“No, doll I don’t.” He grabbed my chin with two of his fingers and making me look at him.

“I-I walked o-on someone... not l-long ago... h-having... y-you k-know...” His fingers were still holding my chin, but I avoided his gaze. He laughed at me for a second.

“Ah, don’t worry doll, if there is someone inside right now, they won’t be the first I’ve ever walked on.” Ace let go off my chin and opened the door. “Well, we are lucky there is no one in, come.” He got inside and waited for me to follow him. I hesitated for a moment but decided to trust him. The room was dark, but Ace quickly made his way to one of the corners and turned on the tall floor lamp positioned there. It was a bedroom. The walls were coloured in a cream beige nuance, some simple art paintings were hanged on them. The bed in the middle of the room was quite big, the sheets were wrinkled but still it wasn’t messy. The wall next to the bed had a big window door that were leading to a balcony. Ace closed the door behind me.

“You can sit or lay on the bed, and I will open the balcony doors.” He pushed the curtains and opened one of the doors. I sat on the side of the bed next to the opened door, and Ace sat next to me. I took a few sips of my water, my mouth dry and my mind was still quite foggy because of the alcohol. My heart was beating fast, as I realised that I was alone with Ace in the room. I saw him looking at me, and now on this dimed light I could take a better look at him. His cheeks were a little flushed, probably because of the alcohol, and his were eyes half lidded, but I couldn’t tell if he was high or not. His hair was messy because of the mask, at least I hoped it was because of it.

“Where is your company?” The question slipped out before I could even stop myself.

“What company?” He raised his eyebrow at my question.

“Y-you know that g-g-girl from earlier. D-did I w-walked o-n y-you?” I muttered, my eyes not moving from the water glass. “I-I mean, t-the g-guy w-was also wearing t-the s-same mask a-as y-you a-an...” Ace’s tongue-clucking interrupted me, and I locked at him. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he was shaking his head.

“Ouch, doll.” He tilted his head at me, a little smirk playing on his face. “I know we don’t really know each other, but don’t you think this would be kinda a big dick move? Like come on, fucking one girl and what, fifteen minutes later going to another one?” He snorted. I could feel that he was a little offended in the way his voice changed.

“Oh my God, no, no Ace I-I didn’t mean it like this, I-I’m extremely sorry.” I put the glass on top of the bedside table. “I-I swear I didn’t mean that, I-I thought i-if it w-was you, a-at least I can apologise for walking on y-you t-that’s all.” I babbled and didn’t realise that I moved closer to him and grabbed his arm by the shoulder.

“It’s okay, no offence was taken.” He brushed it off, his tone was cool. Being this close to him I noticed that he has freckles covering his face, especially his cheeks, which was adding a bit of cuteness to his otherwise very handsome face. I shivered again as the wind from outside filled up the room with cold air. I wrapped my arms around myself again.

“Let me close the door.” I wanted to protest, as the balcony door being open was giving me a sense of escape. It was making the atmosphere around us less intimidate.

“So, long time no see.” Ace sat back on the bed, leaning back on his hands. “You didn’t go for coffee this week?” He teasing smirk forming on his lips.

“I did actually, you just missed me.” A little smile forming on my lips.

“I will be a fool to missed you, doll.” He chuckled and I rolled my eyes at his lame comment.

“So what? You were looking for me or something?” My confidence was coming slowly back, and he just laughed at me. He eyed me from head to toe.

“I’m surprised you didn’t dress as a fox.” He reached with his left arm and wiggled my donkey ears.

“I’ve already been a fox for Halloween, I don’t like repeating my costumes.” I felt myself relax and I laid my body on the bed. “At least my costume is not a lazy one.” I mocked him.

“Hey, what do you mean?” He turned his body on the side facing me, leaning his head on his left hand.

“You know.” I shrugged. “Ghostface mask? Really?” I couldn’t contain my giggle, as I continued to mock him. Ace rolled his eyes at me playfully.

“Shut up. I’m not into dressing up anyway, so I didn’t even care.”

“Boring.” I murmured, glancing at him playfully as well.

“Damn, doll you switch fast – just a seconds ago you were all shy on me, and now you are bulling me, tc-tc.” He licked his lips, looking at me amazed.

“I’m not bulling you; I’m criticizing you.” I corrected him, and we both burst out laughing.

“So, now that it’s just us two, let’s finished the conversation we were having last Friday before your uncle interrupted us.” Ace said. “Tell me – what are you into the most?” I thought for a second back to our conversation a week ago before I answered his question.

“Directing for sure. I love filming, but it’s different when you are the director.” I explained.

“What got you into film making?” He moved a little closer to me, but I didn’t mind it, as I started to feel calmer around him.

“Well, I can say I was a little influenced by my dad. Growing up, going with him to different studios and theatres, got me into loving the idea of creating something with a camera.” I smiled to myself, remembering the days when I was little, and dad would bring me to every movie or show he was recording, even if kids weren’t allowed, he never followed the rules. “I took a gap year before I decided what I want to do for sure, and then I found the program here and yes... this is how I end up studying filmmaking.” I moved my gaze to Ace, he was looking at me with a smile on his face, listening careful to what I was saying.

“Is your dad also a filmmaker?” He asked.

“Ha-ha, no, no.” I shook my head. “He likes to be in front of the camera unlike me and he is a comedian.”

“For real? Is he famous or something?” Ace raised his eyebrow curiously.

“Mhm...” I bit my lip, nodding my head. “Have you head of Buggy the Clown?”

“No way.” Ace’s eyes widen in surplice. “Your dad is Buggy the Clown?” I nodded a big grin spread across my face, being proud of Buggy being my father. “My brothers and I love him; your dad is amazing. Damn, so you are the daughter he tells all these crazy stories about.” He chuckled at me in disbelief.

“Yea, I’m the infamous daughter.” I giggled at his comment, my cheeks blushing a little.

“Damn... I feel starstruck now, can I have your autograph or something?” Ace teased me.

“Of course, you can where you want me to sign.” I teased him back, winking at him.

“Don’t tease me like that, doll.” He chuckled a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“What about you? What got you into music?” My cheeks got flaming hot again and I quickly changed the subject, but also, I was really interested to hear his story behind how we discovered his talent.

“Let’s say I was a quite troubled kid, and as a punishment my aunt made me attend the school choir.” His face frowning a bit from embarrassment remembering the days back in the choir. “I hated it, you have no idea how much I hated attending it.” I let out a giggle at his expression. “Anyway, the teacher saw potential in me and spoke with my aunt to sign me for private lessons. She couldn’t afford that as she had to take care of Sabo and Luffy as well, but my teacher took me under her wing and, yeah..” He awkwardly chuckled.

“Well, that teacher wasn’t wrong.” I said, our gazes locking. Ace snorted at my comment, but he didn’t say anything.

“And how about the guitar? Did you take lessons, or you are self-taught?” I asked him, my voice came out almost as a whisper. Our gazes met and I couldn’t move mine from his dark brown eyes. I made a mental note to myself that I haven’t paid attention till now what a deep shade of brown they were, everyone could get lost in his beautiful eyes. His thin but as dark as his hair eyebrows were adding to his bold but handsome face.

“Law taught me when we became friends.” He spoke in a low tone as he moved a little strand of hair from my face. His fingers were surprisingly soft, even thought they were barely glazing the skin of my face. His touched felt like fire. My breath got caught in my lungs, as suddenly the room became so hot. Ace moved even closer to me, his fingers now playing with the strand of my hair. “Do you know that you have beautiful eyes, doll.” The way he said it as a statement and not a question made my heart skipped a beat. I just shocked my head, unable to say or do anything, as my body froze, but my eyes never left his. He licked his lips, eyes moving to my lips. I slightly opened my mouth, my hands gripping on the sheets under me, heart beating faster. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to calm myself down, and when I opened them, Ace cursed under his breath.

“Fuck.” He shook his head and sat up straight in the bed, looking at the ground. I followed him, looking at him confused.

“Ace?” My voice soft, coming out as a whisper. “A-are you okay? D-did I do something?” The energy in the room changed quickly. If a few seconds ago everything felt hot, like it was caught on fire, now it was the opposite, I could feel the cold wind from outside again.

“I’m sorry, doll.” He slightly tilted his head to look at me again. “Please, forgive me and forget about what happened just now.” His voice remained low.

“Nothing really happened.” I tried to reassure him with a smile. I reached with my hand to touch his shoulder, but he grabbed my hand midair and looked at me seriously.

“I mean it, doll. Forget about what just happened.” His tone was stern.

“Ace, I’m really confused right now, and it’s not because of the alcohol.” I was so confused, what gotten into him out of nowhere. “Nothing happened we are just a little drunk that is all.” I chuckled trying to lighten up the mood.

“Doll, you don’t get it.” He shook his head again, looking away.

“Then explain.” I snapped at him, even thought I didn’t mean to. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out so har-“

“I’m not the guy that sticks around, (Y/N).” Ace interrupted me. “So, let’s not cross any lines, nothing more than a friendship, okay?” He snapped back at me. I lower my gaze to the ground and nodded. Ace sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Believe me, doll... I’m making you a favour.” He got up from the bed and he left the room.

I sat by myself for quite some time not being able to explain to myself what just happened between Ace and me. Did he just reject me? Did I do something to make him react that way? I wanted to go and find him and ask what was all that, but my self dignity didn’t let me. Why flirt with me and then reject me like this? My mind was running with questions. And what was it with all this “I’m doing you a favour.”? All I wanted at this point was to go home. I stand up from the bed and went downstairs, looking for my jacket. I wanted to leave as soon as possible. I couldn’t find it anywhere, so I cursed under my breath and left the place. I was partly hurt by his behaviour and also little offended. My phone had only five precent battery left, and the metro was closed so I had to walk all the way to my place. Just before my battery died, I texted Nami, a quick message that I left as I didn’t feel good. I was passing by some club when someone called after me.

“Hey, brat.” The voice sounded familiar, so I turned around and saw Kid. He came to me and gave me a look. “What are you doing here all alone?”

“None of your business Kid.” I cut him off, continuing my way, as at this point, I couldn’t feel my body as I was freezing to death.

“I can drive you home.” He said after me. I stopped and turned back to him.

“I don’t need your help.” I snapped at him.

“Sure, if you say so. Now come, stop being a brat.” He nodded me to follow him. His car was parked close by, so we didn’t walk long. The drive to my place was quiet.

“Kid, can I ask you something?” I broke the silence. He just looked at me waiting for my question. “As an asshole yourself.” I started not sure how to ask the question. “How can I tell if one is into me? Like... help me understand this.” I couldn’t stop thinking about Ace and what happened. Kid side-eyed me and sighed.

“If he is into you...” He glanced at me before continuing. “He will keep telling himself that he is doing you a favour by staying away from you but... he won’t be able to.” He parked in front of my place, his gazing not leaving the road in front of him. We stayed silenced for a minute, and I noticed that Kid was lost in his own thoughts.

“Thank you, Kid. You know when you want you – you can actually be very nice to hang around.” I told him before getting out of his car. “Thanks for the ride.” I said closing the door.

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lilac-5ky · 1 year ago

Text

The Assistant (officeAU!Geto x Fem!Reader x officeAU!Gojo)

based on this request, tumblr hates me.

Plot: Senior Partner at the prestigious Gojo Group's legal department, Geto Suguru never expected to fall for his newly-hired personal assistant. But when his lifelong best friend and boss takes an interest in you, Suguru fins his own feelings rapidly escalating into an uncontrollable obsession.

Tags: Office!AU, Geto POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Secretary!Reader, Lawyer!Geto, CEO!Gojo, Office Sex, Oral Sex (m.receiving), Doggy Style, Degradation, Praise, Pining, Jealousy, Obsession, Sexual Coercion, Abuse of Authority, don't get your hopes up; this isn't a threesome, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Number one bestie, you still owe me Gojo smut. But here, 14k words to quench your thirst for Suguwu.

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

“How about this one? She’s pretty hot, don’t you think, Suguru?” Satoru waves yet another paper in Suguru’s face, his excitement wearing off the moment he catches his best friend pinching his nose bridge between his fingers.

“Satoru, we are picking associate candidates, not swimming-suit contest winners.” Suguru chides in a calm tone, crossing out the woman’s name from his list with a red line that’s identical to the line above and the ones that rank above it too.

This is the 78th candidate whose CV is rejected by the two men, their task of finding Suguru the perfect assistant turning rather daunting after five emptied cups of instant coffee.

Suguru insisted he could’ve done it alone—similar to how he’d insisted he could’ve kept handling his own affairs by himself and argued against a congratulatory party in honor of his promotion. But certain wishes outweigh others, and in the legal department of Gojo Enterprises, Satoru’s word is as good as the law—one of the many perks that come with being the president’s only son.

“What’s wrong with swimming suit contests?” The white-haired man sulks, long limbs hanging gracelessly from over his chair’s backrest. He zooms in on the woman’s picture one final time before crumpling the paper into a ball that’s flung straight into the garbage bin by the door. "Hey, that was a three-pointer!"

Sigh.

Even though the two of them have been friends since Suguru can remember himself, sometimes it feels as if only one of them outgrew their fourth-grade selves. It’s nothing new for Satoru to confuse play time with work time, yet as the man who will come to inherit the entire Gojo empire, he should at least focus on how to better the company, not tear it apart.

“Nothing wrong with swimming suits or gravure models, but we should choose someone based on their skills. Remember what your father always says: a business is only as successful as—”

“‘Its team is,’ yeahyeahyeah , spare me the preach. My ears are tired of that old man’s nagging.” Satoru spins around in his chair, the rollers squeaking under his weight. “Just because someone’s pretty doesn’t mean they can’t be competent. Take me for example.” His thumb and forefinger shape an angle below his chin.

A quiet chuckle evades Suguru as he sorts the files before him and slides the next batch across Satoru’s side of the table. “Fine, if we don’t find someone who checks both criteria, then you can be my assistant.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Satoru rips another instant coffee packet open. “My hands are full already.” Throwing his head back, he empties the powder into his mouth and washes it around until the sugary substance dissolves.

“I can see that,” Suguru murmurs, masking his distaste by returning to work.

The stacks of paper soon decline, with Satoru needing a cursory look to dismiss the candidates and Suguru meticulously processing their accomplishments down to their high school extracurricular activities. Work at the firm is hard enough as is. He’s seen far too many young, ambitious interns crack under pressure and pop pills into their mouths like candy just so they can keep up.

Narrowing down his options, Suguru gets a decent idea of what he’s looking for: adaptability, flexibility, and drive. Those traits are common to all three finalists, with two of them having touched a variety of fields and the other having a background in volunteer work.

He’s all but decided on candidate number 99 when a paper plane crashes into the side of his head.

“Oops!” Satoru’s shoulders scrunch up coyly, though both he and his partner know it was very much intentional.

Suguru catches the plane, appreciating the craftsmanship behind the carefully folded wings, before he sets it on the table.

“Satoru.” His voice gains a slight edge after he spots candidate 42’s face decorating the underside of the aircraft, a comically large mustache drawn on top. “Was anyone else to your liking, or did the rest become fodder for your fleet?”

He watches his friend fish a paper crane out of his jacket, clearly pleased with himself, and he has every right to be, considering the paper is seamlessly trimmed without any scissors. Cute. Suguru smiles, withholding his praise lest it become another point of distraction.

Rolling his chair away, Satoru jumps up and slams the desk with enough force to break it. “Number 98!” He declares.

“98?” Suguru asks, and in seconds, Satoru is found hovering above his shoulder, one hand drumming against the leather chair and the other covering the (presumed) woman’s picture.

“Good grades, prestigious papers, and all that education shit you’re so fond of.” His forefinger trails between the lines. “University of Tokyo, Department of—blah blah , Essex something something, worked three years as a paralegal for the Kamos. Whole damn package, and the best thing?” He draws his palm away, slowly enough to build anticipation. “She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Satoru, I told you—”

Whatever was supposed to complete that sentence withers at the tip of Suguru’s tongue, amber irises blown as they take in every detail of your face, animating your features as if you’re truly there with them, and for a moment, he tricks himself into thinking you are.

He sees your lips—those pretty lips he swears taste like honey without kissing them—drawing away from your teeth, the mellifluous sound of your laughter coating the rumble of prints being made somewhere in the background. He knows that a picture can’t possibly hold such power, and yet the subtle floral notes in your perfume reach him, prevailing so easily over the stench of ink and coffee and enchanting him into agreeing with his friend.

She is gorgeous. Perhaps the most gorgeous woman he’s laid eyes on.

You are.

“Come on, Suguru. This one’s super cute!” Satoru argues in your favor, his jaw piercing his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, if you’re not hiring her, then I am. I can always lay off one of my—”

“Looks like you are off the hook, Satoru. This one will do.”

“And this is the kitchen. I recommend making the most of our espresso maker or heading to the cafeteria on the first floor—unless you don’t mind your coffee tasting like watered-down sugar.” Suguru nods toward the pyramid of instant coffee boxes stacked in the corner, conscious of the doe eyes that track his every gesture.

The picture barely did you any justice. You are so much prettier in person with your well-fitting two-piece suit and the pocket notebook you carry, penning down everything he says, down to the locations of kitchenware and the names of employees you meet along the way. He can’t tell whether you’re not confident enough in your ability to memorize things or simply overzealous. No matter the case, he finds your little habit endearing, but then again, the opinion of a man who endeared himself to you ahead of your acquaintance is not to be taken at face value.

“What’s the matter?” He cocks his head to the side, gaze drawn to the pen stilled in your grasp. “Too much info?”

“More like too many handles and blinking lights. One wrong button, and the whole building detonates.” You glance at him over the pages, your tone delineating a smile he cannot see.

He returns it, piecing the bang that typically never bothers him behind his ear. “Sato—I mean, Senior Partner Gojo received this as a gift from Zen’in Naobito when we moved to this building.”

“Is that so? I thought Zen’in Group was notoriously at odds with Gojo Group.”

“Oh, they are. But it’s common business tactics to trade one overpriced gift for another to see who breaks bank first.” Suguru hums, grabbing a clean mug from the rack and initiating the twelve-step process required to brew a single cup of coffee. “If I remember correctly, our side sent them a private sushi chef. His work hours were paid; the fish, not so much. Sugar?” He smirks, stirring the amount you call in your coffee.

“What happened after? Off the record.” You tap your notebook shut, and the smile he thought he heard is there, seen on your lips and felt in his heart, warmer than the beverage his hand offers.

“They kept him around for about a month before politely declining our generosity. I guess there’s a limit to how much bluefin tuna the rich can stomach.” His narrowed eyes crinkle fondly while he watches you blow the steam from your face and take your first sip. “Hope it’s to your liking.”

“The coffee or the story?”

“Both. But mostly the coffee.”

“It’s really good.” You nod appreciatively. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” Suguru disposes of the used coffee beans, failing to, however, rid himself of the soft smile perching on his lips. “It’ll take a while to get used to it, so feel free to come to me whenever you need more coffee. Or another story.”

“I could never disturb you for something like that.” You shake your head along with your hands. “What kind of assistant asks her boss to make her coffee?”

The word “boss” carries a negative connotation coming from your lips; the few inches that keep you apart rapidly expand into miles, and he hates that. It’s a gap he doesn’t want to see widened any further.

“How about you think of us as partners, then?” Suguru takes a leap while the distance’s short. “None of us gets paid to make coffee either way.”

You seem hesitant to agree, holding the weight of his stare until your determination crumbles. “Fine. But only till I get the hang of it. Then you’ll be greeted with a cup of freshly brewed espresso on your desk every morning.”

“That’s very thoughtful, but I’d rather be served tea instead. Red with one sugar?”

Overzealous , he decides as you hurriedly flip through the pages to scribble his order.

He wonders what your handwriting is like. Whether it’s scrawled and stumpy or eloquent and delicate, which isn’t the most fascinating thing to wonder about a person, but he can’t help himself from trying to pierce through the hardcover for a glimpse at your thoughts, unwittingly attracting your attention.

You share a look that flourishes over a second and withers within an eternity, its remains scattering into an airy chuckle as the machine cuts in with a sudden choo .

“I’m s-sorry!” You bow your head, bottom lip sticking out while you fail to suppress your amusement. “I didn’t expect it to sound like this. It’s just like—”

“Mhm, it does resemble the bullet train to Sendai a bit, doesn’t it?”

Suguru doesn’t necessarily think of himself as a funny man. But witnessing the little dance your fingers perform as you struggle to keep the cup steady, he might as well be the funniest man in the whole wide world.

“Shall we get going?” He prompts. “I still haven’t shown you to your office.”

“Please lead the way. Partner.” You add, unaware that the man who cruises you by almost trips over his feet. In his mind, at least.

Walking among the cubicles where various paralegals have their noses buried within tower-height stacks of memoranda, Suguru goes over your shared schedule and what is expected of you in the upcoming days, silently praying that you don’t question his insistence to wipe his sweaty palms against his slacks. He hasn’t been this stressed since he and Satoru were studying for the bar exam, and even then, it wasn’t him he was stressing about.

He recites, and you diligently take notes, up until the compact desks lessen and you find yourselves standing in front of an open space with its own reception. The senior partners’ offices—or, in other words, your boss’ and his boss’ offices.

“Hey, Shoko. Got anything for me?” Suguru asks the disinterested brunette seated at the front desk.

The woman’s eyes dart between the two of you. She acknowledges your presence with a curt bow, hardly bothering to put out her cigarette in the tray behind her. “Just this.” She pulls a yellow folder from one of the drawers and hands it to him, smoke wafting when she speaks. “It’s a letter of intent; Nanami brought it himself. Says it’s important.

“How much longer do I have to keep this up?” Shoko asks, a red imprint from where her wrist was previously propping her cheek against her elbow.

Suguru takes out the papers, skimming through the lines before stuffing them back inside and giving her a tiny smile.

“Thank you for your service, Shoko. You are fired.”

“Yay!” The woman excites in the same deadpan tone, grabbing her bag and almost knocking you down with how quick she is to flee the company premises.

“Is she—”

“Don’t worry about her.” Suguru’s attention returns to you. “She’s just a friend filling in for us.”

The way he uses the term friend is deliberate. Normally, he wouldn’t care what people make of his and Satoru’s relationship with the third member of their group, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

Tucking the folder under his armpit, Suguru proceeds to lead you to your office, situated in the same open space although much closer to the wooden door that spells his full name and title in capital gold lettering—another of Satoru’s fanciful insistences.

Your desk is half as wide as the reception’s, yet twice as spacious as the cubicle ones. The company’s logo bounces across an idle computer screen, dust particles dancing amidst the glaring light of high noon. There is a telephone and some stationery that’s either sorted in a silver pencil holder or frames the hefty planner at the center, though it’s the sticky notes dangling from its pages that end up piquing your interest.

Suguru suffered through the teasing of a lifetime for spending his entire weekend summarizing case files just so your first days wouldn’t be hectic.

(“Good for you, Suguru.” Satoru snickered from his sumptuous recliner, a tennis ball bouncing from the wall back to his hand. “Getting your first crush at the age of 28. What’s next? Drawing your initials in little hearts for her to see how well your names fit together?”

“Shut up." Suguru clicked his pen against his head, stretching his feet below the workbench-turned kotatsu. "Some people happen to function better in organized environments.”

“Mhm , all I’m hearing is Suguru and Y/N sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Satoru sang at an annoyingly gleeful pitch.)

“This,” you reel him back to the present. “You did this?”

Your eyes gleam like twin stars in their sockets. Clear, brilliant, and bright, but most importantly, boring into his.

Good for you, Suguru. Getting your first crush at the age of 28.

Suguru nearly waves his hand over his face to disperse his friend’s voice. It’s not a crush. He doesn’t think it is. Admitting to what is beautiful and reacting to it is a natural human response that has nothing to do with feelings of any kind. This is ephemeral.

“Y-yes.” A dry cough clears the hoarseness in his throat. “Thought it’d make your life easier if you knew where to focus instead of running around like a headless chicken.” He shifts through the pages in your hands. “Naturally, the indicators attached to closer dates are more urgent than the ones pushed further back, though they’re also sorted by color. Green means you can do it at your leisure, while bright pink means—”

“Danger, death, don’t skip?” You smile, and he nods eagerly. A bit too eagerly. Just like a schoolboy who was praised for giving the right answer, even though you were the one who answered correctly.

Maybe kissing on a tree wouldn’t be so bad.

“Thank you for doing this. And for hiring me.” You suddenly grow timid, bottom lip trapped in a shy smile as you extend your hand to him. “Working for this company is a great opportunity on its own, but working under—with ,” you correct yourself, “someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.” A chuckle slips. “Apologies, the different colored sticky notes got to me.”

Soft. So damn soft. Your hand is so fucking soft, enveloping his own, that he curses himself for not coming up with the idea of a handshake when he first welcomed you at the lobby. It is a problem because he doesn’t want to let go, and when he does, he does so begrudgingly, his rougher finger pads dragging over your smooth skin and lingering above your polished fingernails with such delicacy as if they were freshly bloomed rosebuds.

“There are more in the drawer.” He nods toward the first drawer, a smirk coming as an afterthought. “Paper clips too.”

“Don’t tell me there’s a stapler in there too!” You gasp dramatically.

“Guess you’re gonna have to see for yourself.” His head droops to the side, and he smiles.

Your head droops to the side, and you smile back. You. Smile. Back.

The notion settles in his heart before registering in his brain, nestling where nothing can pry it off and inking itself as an indelible memory that’s bound to haunt him throughout the review of the Tengen shares redistribution, on which he better get started.

“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

He manages about three steps away when your voice has him stopping in his tracks.

“Mr. Geto, you shouldn’t have!”

There are quite a few things he shouldn’t have done. For starters, waking up two hours ahead of his alarm, mixing the salt with the sugar in his morning tea (though something tells him that was the work of someone else), wearing his watch on the wrong wrist, and letting himself be smitten with his brand new assistant, whom he’s barely known for half a day. But you don’t know about any of those things. At least he hopes you don’t.

So, which one is it?

He turns around slowly, jaw almost dropping at the flower field spanning between your arms, roses redder than the blood boiling in his veins and peonies pinker than the tinge rising high on your cheeks—an arrangement bound with ivory wrapping paper.

“How do you like your welcoming gift?” The harbinger of disaster, conveniently known as his best friend, boss, and apparent competitor, makes his entrance.

“You are—”

“Gojo Satoru—local entrepreneur of the year, number one in Forbes’ 30 under 30, featured on the cover of Times magazine, most eligible bachelor in the world after his highness, the Archduke of Austria, and ringleader of this establishment—in the flesh!” He introduces himself like a certain character from Game of Thrones would, taking an excessively dramatic bow and rushing to your side with a wolfish smile that sharpens his otherwise gentle features.

“And you must be Y/N, right?” Without hesitation, Satoru hops into first name basis, cerulean eyes casting an indiscreet look over his sunglasses as he bends forward, hands kept on his knees. “My, you are even more beautiful in person! The picture did you no justice at all!”

And just like that, every single word that’d steadily been brewing in Suguru’s mind is taken away from him, Satoru praising you with the same ease and unparalleled confidence he bought the extravagant bouquet in your embrace, one that befits a lifelong lover more than a newly acquainted colleague.

“Mr. Gojo, I—I don’t know what to say.” Your eyes remain glued to the flowers, tense shoulders slightly squirming.

“Hmm, how about you start with dropping the honorifics? I hate having barriers between me and my employees.” He didn’t seem to hate barriers when he made Ijichi address him as Grand Emperor Gojo for a month straight as punishment. “We are all the same age here. Call me Gojo unless,” he smirks playfully, tilting his head to where you can no longer escape him, “you feel bold enough to call me Satoru.”

“Satoru.” The monotone intonation of his name carries a warning the white-haired man heeds, sparing you in favor of using his friend’s shoulder as an armrest.

“Suguru! Are you done with showing our”—our?—“lovely new assistant around?”

“What’s with the flowers?”

“The flowers?” Satoru chuckles boisterously. “What are you talking about? That’s how I welcome every new member of our team!”

“I don’t remember receiving any flowers when I signed my contract.” A mumble is met with a light elbow to his neck.

“You get paid enough to afford your own.” Satoru huffs, switching back to his amicable persona in the blink of an eye—your watchful eye that’s been studying them without daring to interfere. Another chuckle, accompanied by a poke to Suguru's cheek. “Tulips or dahlias? Name it, and I’ll turn your office into a greenhouse.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Are the two of you close?” Your voice forces the two men to break from each other, a furtive glance shared among them.

“Suuuuper close!” Satoru squeezes his friend’s shoulders into another unwanted embrace. “Been best friends since—third grade, was it? Hah, remember the time you called principal Yaga mom during morning assembly, and he started growing out his beard ‘cause he thought he wasn’t manly enough? Hilarious.”

Anger seethes in Suguru’s guts like a shaken can of soda about to combust, fizzling out before it can reach its boiling point. “Satoru.” He grits his teeth. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the shareholder meeting?”

“The shareholder—” He repeats, almost surprised, laughing awkwardly to himself. “Oh, turns out I wasn’t needed much. Left Ijichi in charge; he should be fine. Probably .”

A caricature of Ijichi suffering a mental breakdown while trying to placate those senile, cymbal-hitting monkeys plays in both their heads, barring yours.

“Ijichi is President Gojo’s personal assistant.” Suguru explains, pinching Satoru’s sleeve away from his body—except he doesn’t budge. “He’s been working under Satoru for the past four months as his secretary, reporting directly to his father since his only son wasn’t so good at budget handling and had his allowance cut. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”

“Let’s not talk about such tedious subjects in front of Y/N.” The man pulls away at once, running a hand through messy strands of white.

“I actually don’t mind—”

“Measuring up to all your quirks and abiding by your crazy filing system should bore her enough on its own.” He cuts you off, speaking behind his palm as if his words are meant solely for you. “Has Suguru shown you his little planner? Took him two all-nighters to put it together, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

He rests assured in his victory, not counting on you being the one who knocks him down a peg.

“Mhm, he already did, and I already thanked him. I’m a firm believer that a clear desk means a clear mind, and a clear mind means efficiency.” The flowers are at last unloaded upon your desk, their lengthy stems covering about two-thirds of the furniture. “Cluttering your workspace with a bunch of unnecessary items will only stagger your progress and make you fall behind. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Gojo?”

It’s rare to catch Satoru at a loss for words, yet there he stands, completely still and utterly speechless at your mercy, his expression akin to that of a wrongfully sprayed kitten.

The two of you turn to Suguru, seeking some sort of recognition that would settle the score. Any other person in his shoes would side with the authority in the room, but your referee decides to sit this one out.

He knows what Satoru is thinking. Substance is dull without style, and tri-colored dango tastes best in spring. He never had to choose one over the other, but giving you a piece of his mind would make him look indecisive—or worse, shallow—and he doesn’t want that. He wants to look good in front of you, or else he wouldn’t have worn his most expensive suit and bailed out of the most important meeting of the month.

He dug his own grave, and unexpectedly, the helping hand that pulls him out belongs to the one who first cast dirt upon his casket.

“Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Gojo. They might not have a place on my desk, but they’ll sure make a lovely centerpiece for my table at home. Peonies, right?” Your smile is effortlessly disarming. “I don’t know much about flowers, but I hear they symbolize good fortune.”

“They do?” Satoru asks, slapping the stupefied expression off his face. “I mean, yeah! Of course they do!” He bounces back, soft dimples obliterating a deep-carved frown. “I hope your time here brings you lots of good fortune. I know the place already seems more fortunate with you around.”

You chuckle warmly, locking eyes with an impressed Suguru. No one’s ever made Satoru both lose face and helped him save some over the span of a single five-minute conversation. No one but Suguru himself.

He made the right choice by hiring you.

“The rumors about the future head of the company were true. You really are everything they make you out to be.”

“Huh? What rumors? What do they say about me?” Satoru chases you to your desk, an imaginary tail wagging behind him as he watches you pick up your notebook and flip to a blank page.

“How do you drink your coffee?” A tap of your pen. “I know it’s not much, but...I’d like to repay your kindness.”

Oh no. Here we go again.

“I’m pretty easy. I drink my espresso with six sugar cubes, my cappuccino with nine pumps of caramel syrup, sweet condensed milk, whipped cream, and caramel drizzle on top—and, of course, the six sugar cubes. In the summer— oh crap, I almost forgot, I also like mocha, both white and regular, again same toppings—I usually go for iced lattes with—”

Two minutes into taking his order, and about twenty seconds after your pen stops moving, you glance at Suguru for help. The man simply shrugs, amusement hinted in his cat-like eyes.

There is a good reason why the kitchen’s loaded on instant coffee, and that’s because it’s the only thing that can quench Satoru’s sweet tooth on the spot. You’re going to have to figure that out on your own, just like every other unfortunate soul in this company did when they stupidly offered to treat him.

“That reminds me!” A finger snap concludes his monologue. “Suguru, you know what day it is?”

“Tuesday?”

“You mean one-plus-one Tuesday. Ah, you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to my weekly croquette sandwich; wouldn’t have gotten out of bed if it wasn't for it. Erm , and you ,” he says, again running his fingers through his hair as he bestows you with another laid-back smile. “The two highlights of my week.”

Suguru sighs, convincing himself it’s the prospect of leaving so much work behind that doesn’t excite him and not the sight of Satoru’s affections being subtly reciprocated.

“So, you coming?” Satoru asks.

“I’m gonna have to pass.”

“What?” He gapes, hand clutching his chest like a child who just found out they’re adopted. “Why?”

“Because we are meeting with Tengen’s representatives at the end of the week and they’ll withdraw their investment unless we have a clear model for their merger.” Suguru reminds him. “Besides, Satoru, you don’t need me to buy lunch when you can literally buy out the place with one of your cards.”

Fixing his glasses higher over his nose, Satoru opens his mouth to complain, deciding against it at the last minute. He shoots a haughty look in Suguru's general direction. “Well, if you’re really that busy, then—ah, guess it can’t be helped. Least you can do is be responsible and send a replacement. And who could that replacement be—hmm, if only there was an available candidate.”

He scopes the place with a palm horizontal to his eyes, stopping once he supposedly detects your presence. “What do you say, new girl? Perhaps this could be our chance to get to know each other. I bet there’s so much you’re dying to ask me.” He says with a stare far too playful to be deemed salacious.

Round glasses come off as Satoru leans against your desk and plays up his charms. You are drawn to the blue spirals in his eyes, mesmerized by their sublime beauty, and in a way, it’s nature’s will for the stars to seek the skies, but Suguru can’t stand for it. Not when such bitterness floods his palate, spreading into his bloodstream like poison that prompts his body to move against every volition that isn’t his own.

“Let’s go.” He rasps in a nearly menacing tone, claw-like fingers closing around Satoru’s shoulder. “Your treat.”

"She is scary!" Breadcrumbs fall from Satoru's mouth as he takes another bite out of his lunch, tonkatsu sauce overlining his cupid's bow. "Terrifying even."

"I thought you said she was hot." Suguru states wryly, still in the process of peeling the fifteen layers of wrapping paper that encompass his sandwich, when he pauses to offer Satoru a couple of napkins.

He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like thank you, and wipes his lips clean, only to dirty them with another sloppy bite.

"She is," he agrees after gulping down, snowy eyelashes fluttering shut to a moan that has people from different tables turning heads to theirs. "Both scary and hot. Scarily hot. Mmm, so damn good~"

Another obscene sound vibrates in his throat, and this time, Suguru fails to hide his disgust, staring at his friend like a disappointed mother at a parent-teacher conference.

"What?" Satoru asks, the blue in his eyes expanding as he touches his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

"Satoru." Suguru shakes his head, speaking in a quiet voice all the while pleading with him to stop acting grossly in public.

It's safe to say his request isn't received well, although it takes just one mention of your name for Satoru to let go of his grudge and perk up again.

"Did you see how mean she was to me?" The giddiness in his tone fails to match his words. "Ready to walk all over me with those heels. Bet she would have if you weren't there."

"And? Giving up already?" Suguru teases.

"Who said I am?" Satoru chugs his coke. "Just hafta try harder."

Any joy Suguru might have felt at his friend's misery ends up parching in his throat, squinted eyes casting an inexcusably hard glare on the sandwich he grips with malice.

"God, did ya see her smile? Bet her lips taste like heaven."

"And what does heaven taste like?"

"Probably as good as this," Satoru says, nodding to his half-finished meal, "but sweeter. Infinite times sweeter. I'll let you know once I find out for myself."

Every word that comes out of Satoru's mouth causes Suguru's fingers to clutch tighter and tighter until the croquettes explode out of his sandwich, splattering the table and his hand with bits of potato and sauce.

"Ah. Sorry, I wasn't—" Suguru drops the remains on his plate, cleaning his fingers one by one. He isn't even sure what he's apologizing for.

"Want me to get you another?" Satoru offers. "I could go for seconds."

"It's fine. Not hungry anymore."

Gardenia or tuberose?

The same question repeats in Suguru's brain, begging to distract him from the slew of paperwork he's been asked to sign, but not from the actual distraction that is bent over his desk, making him question not just his sanity but also his self-control.

Tuberose.

He doesn't think much of either is left when he breathes in the perfume dabbed around your shirt's open collar, alluring to the point where he catches himself chasing after your neck like a hound dog—heavy breath hitching in his chest.

Gardenia.

He doubts he has any left when his amber eyes peer into your cleavage, tracing the contour between your supple breasts down to the first popped button of your shirt—large palms aching to seize them.

Tuberose.

He realizes he is not half the decent man he was about a month ago when his cock twitches at the sight of your pencil skirt riding higher on your thighs, the black seams of your sheered stockings promising a fast track to your tight little cunt—and how he’d love to gain access to that.

Gardenia or tuberose; who cares?

Figuring out the notes in your perfume is about the last thing Suguru cares about when every inch of his body urges him to blow your back against the lavish mahogany, signing the rest of these documents in a mix of your spit and tears. But it's what helps keep those intrusive thoughts from spilling out.

"One more signature here." Ignorant about his dark impulses, you shuffle through the papers and point at another blank place of signature he needs to fill. "It's a referral agreement for Miss Mei's services. She said the terms were verbally agreed upon, but feel free to go over them again and suggest any adjustments."

"That won't be necessary." With a few quick flicks of his pen, Suguru jots down his name. "Thank you for your hard work."

He struggles to meet your eyes without first halting at your tits as you collect the documents and hug them (regrettably) close to your chest, pulling away from his desk to stand before him.

"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Geto!" A sweet smile is plastered on your face, and he can't help but wonder whether you'd continue smiling at him if you ever caught a whiff of the filth festering in his brain.

He doesn't like what his feelings have matured into. He's not proud that every time your eyes cross, he muses over what they'd look like rolling to the back of your skull or how sometimes he'll lock his office door and beat his cock to the thought of your pretty nails digging in his thighs while he bullies his length into the heat of your throat.

He hates that those aren't even his own thoughts but were rather instilled in him by Satoru, who couldn't be more vocal and descriptive of his own fantasies if he wanted to. He's the same way about his advances, and it drives Suguru insane to see his friend making such quick headway because he remains Mr. Geto while he gets to be Satoru.

It's all because of that damn merger...

The first time Suguru heard you address Satoru by his first name came right after a business meal he was forced to sit out of. Someone had to deal with the last-minute amendment Tengen requested to their already-filed and approved work plan, while another entertained their prospective investors. Seeing as Satoru was the face of the company, he couldn't possibly miss such an important meeting, and so they divided responsibilities.

Suguru stayed back to deal with the crisis, but not without sending you on his behalf—all pretty and dolled-up in your navy halter dress and black pumps, shining like the evening star by Satoru's side, only to come back completely drained of light with the worst shoe bite known to man.

Ever the observant gentleman, Suguru ran to the nearest drugstore, returning to the office with his heart in his mouth and a bag full of supplies that dropped from his hands the moment he saw his best friend kneel before your feet, tying the shoelaces of a newly bought pair of sneakers.

Thank you, Satoru.

The same scene repeated itself many a time, his lesser romantic gestures outdone by a price tag he couldn't match and words he couldn't brace himself to say just yet.

A fluff of white hair orbited around your desk at a constant, like a bumblebee who'd discovered an inexhaustible source of nectar, and you grew close enough not to swat it—him—away. You'd answer his jokes with mirthful chuckles, and he'd answer your “Here's your stomach ache of a cappuccino, Satoru” with platinum-coated Mont Blanc pens and luxury Moleskine agendas. Plural.

Light touches, flirty smiles, and heart-eyes in both your voices, whose volume bypassed his closed door as an irritating buzz that had Suguru wondering whether there had been a change of offices.

The breaking point came two nights ago, when, in the spur of jealousy, he heaped you with enough work to keep your desk lamp burning all night long. He regretted it as soon as he got into his car, and then he stepped on the pedal, driving to that one Chinese place he and Satoru frequented while they were still students—driving again like a maniac to ensure the food reached you hot.

But great minds think alike.

By the time Suguru made it back into the office, a proper candle-lit dinner was held over the scattered papers on your desk that then doubled as coasters. A second chair was drawn near yours, two silhouettes huddled together. Shoulders nudging, chopsticks lifted—and he refused to stick around long enough to watch his best friend feed dumplings directly into your mouth, along with whatever was bound to follow.

Which pulls him back to the current reality of his foggy windows and the cold tea on his desk, with present-you staring at him, oblivious to his dilemma.

He knows he has no right to feel this way. You aren't his property, and contrary to what the media wants the world to believe, Satoru isn't some heartless womanizer who changes girls the same way people change socks. In fact, Suguru can't remember the last time he saw Satoru this invested in a person. You hitting it off is a good thing. He should be happy.

He should be.

He really should.

But he isn't.

He really isn't.

And he doubts he'll ever be, because in his whole life, he's never envied anything that Satoru has. Not his money, not his status, not his prestige—not anything. You're the first thing he's ever envied—the first he's ever wanted. Because you are his assistant, and within the wretched spiral of his desires, that should amount to something.

You should be his.

"So.” Suguru takes a sip of his tea, trying his hardest not to cringe at its unpleasant, lukewarm taste. "Any special plans for the holidays?"

You shake your head slowly and then with more confidence again.

"That's good." He blurts out, masking his relief with a low chuckle. "I mean—"

“I get it.” You chuckle back. “Not a big fan of the holidays, are you?”

“Not a hater either. Satoru,” he mentally curses himself for bringing him up now, “is the one who gets all excited about Christmas. Gives him the perfect opportunity to put on a show without being chastised by President Gojo. Hard to argue back when he brings up the morale of the team."

“Well, everyone seems to be excited for the party." You add. "Especially the interns; heard them gushing about it with Assistant Manager Haibara."

"I don't suppose Intern Fushiguro was with them, was he?" Suguru smirks as you confirm his suspicions. The boy might be Satoru's protegee, yet the two are like night and day when it comes to means of entertainment.

"It's Intern Kugisaki and Intern Itadori's first Christmas at our company, and the press always finds a way to glorify anything related to the Gojos." Suguru continues. "The annual Christmas party isn't an exception. Outsiders need a special invitation, and only a select few make the cut."

"We should consider ourselves lucky, then." You point out.

"Mhm," he hums. "Come think of it, it's your first Christmas with us too. Are you excited?" A teasing lilt colors his voice.

"Definitely am!" You humor him. "Especially after hearing about the ugly sweater contest."

"Fan of the sport or the prize?"

"Both. But five days at a deluxe resort in Okinawa do sound enticing."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you." Suguru folds his arms over his chest and tilts back against his chair. A condescending look spreads over his features.

You mirror his stance, sticking your right heel out. "And why is that? Are you competing perhaps?"

He snorts as if the notion alone is plain ridiculous. "I'm not, but Nanami is."

"Nanami? Manager Nanami?" You blink in disbelief, trying and mostly failing to contain your laughter. Not like he can fault you. A man as practical and square-minded as Nanami sporting sweaters that feature 3D reindeer heads is a sight one must see in order to believe.

"He's oddly passionate about this." Suguru explains. "He's won every contest for the past four years, just to enjoy a little time off."

"I should give it my best then."

"I'll be cheering for you." He promises with a wink, picking up on the faint blush that dusts your cheeks. A small victory.

You bite your lip and cast a gaze to the floor before lifting your head in search of the clock on his wall. He sighs internally.

"So." You return to the beginning of your discussion.

"So." He repeats with a softer tone.

"I guess I'll be seeing you at the party?"

"Guess you will." He nods, gesturing toward the door. "You may go. I need to finish these first.

You nod back and hold onto the door knob, turning around one last time to bow at him. "There's an extra umbrella on my desk. Feel free to take it."

Before Suguru can even consider his answer, you turn into smoke, leaving him with a hopeful smile he scolds himself for. A thoughtful gesture can't possibly undo all the sorrow and anguish he experienced over the course of a mere month.

And yet he still finds himself skipping to your desk, grinning now at the little piece of paper that dangles from the umbrella's handle. It's not a spare, that's for sure.

As lightning cracks the gloomy skies above, Suguru faces toward the window, tracking the thunder's tail down to gray cement, where colorful umbrellas dance around like anemones. Yours twirls like the most beautiful flower of all, vivid petals drawing into themselves as you're ushered into a white SUV by a hand belonging to a man he knows all too well—driven away while Suguru stands there watching, feeling as if cold rain pours over him instead.

He sets down the umbrella and returns to his office.

After the fifth replay of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" blasts over the speakers, Suguru begins to reconsider the answer he gave you less than 24 hours ago.

He hates Christmas—the buzz, the fuss. The forced happiness and the self-inflicted festive glee. The repetitive songs and the continuous camera flash. The stuffy atmosphere and the nausea-inducing blinking lights. How every snack gets labeled with an ambiguous "Christmas flavor," as if a holiday can have a taste in the first place; he hates all that.

But most of all, he hates not being the one to stand beside you under that damn mistletoe—a spectator among spectators and an outcast even among them.

Champagne trembles in his hand as he watches the crowd gather around you and Satoru, smothering you with cheers that sound a beat above the music, excessive clapping synchronized for the sake of a four-letter word chanted like a prayer. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

You don't give in to their demands. Not immediately, at least. There is some awkward fumbling, a hand weaving through semi-combed strands of white, and the pointy end of a heel dragging incomplete circles. You shake your heads in unison, giggling, making a very weak effort to get yourselves out of this predicament, though the people know exactly what they want. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

It's quick and painless. Chaste, as Satoru leans forward and pecks your cheek, grinning a shit-eating grin from one ear to the other when he pulls away and waves off the jeers. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Louder this time. His lips move soundlessly, wordless speech bubbles emerging in faux protest as if he isn't dying to kiss you, as if you aren't dying to be kissed by the most important man in the room, as if this poorly executed play isn't staged.

Suguru finds himself wishing you'd get it over with, yet he can't bring himself to turn away. Much like everyone else, his gaze is fixed on you, enchanted by you since day one, and imprisoned in a dismal spell that continues to wring his heart for all its worth, threatening to leave him shattered.

You take initiative this once. Stepping in front of Satoru, your fingers seek the hem of his cream-colored cashmere sweater. You pull him to you, reeling and reeling and reeling, and—

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Geto!" A pair of impressionable eyes widen before him, stretched arms springing from the man's body as he jumps before Suguru like a jack-in-the-box.

"Haibara." He acknowledges with a sigh, uncertain of whether he should be thanking him or scolding him for blocking his view.

By the time his junior pulls aside, the spectacle is already over. Everyone has returned to their previous positions, resuming their conversations away from you and Satoru, who are left gleaming like Christmas ornaments, tinged red from head to toe.

"Mm, these taste so good! Mr. Geto, you need to try one," Haibara says, lifting a platter of canapés from the buffet behind them.

Suguru forces himself to smile as he throws a salmon spread into his mouth. He swallows without understanding any flavor, washing the crumbs away with some more champagne, the buzz of alcohol promising to dull out his affliction.

"Are you enjoying the party?"

"Very much so!" Haibara answers full of excitement. "So many new faces have gathered since last year; I'm so glad to be a part of this. Nanami even let me help with his sweater design!"

"Is that so?" Suguru chuckles wryly, scanning through the guests for the blond.

He spots Nanami loitering by where your desk is normally stationed (the majority of furniture relocated for the sake of opening up the space), and while he cannot see the front of his burgundy sweater, he can easily make out the antler headband sitting on both his and Itadori's heads, the two men seeming to have joined forces.

The discussion between Haibara and Suguru soon turns stale, with the former gushing about the inner happenings of the sales department and the latter absently nodding in approval, his attention monopolized by the exchange between you and Satoru.

Even when the occasional guest butts in, you remain inseparably bound to each other through your clothes (both of you dressed to the nines despite your intent to partake in the contest), your gestures, and the hands that gain familiarity over time. His slips around your lower back as he whispers in your ear; yours throws a playful punch at his shoulder, while you giggle at whatever he just said.

Probably some crappy Christmas pick-up line, Suguru decides. Something like, Wanna pop by my apartment later? No need for any mistletoe when we're both under my sheets, followed by a Satoru! Not here; people are watching .

"Mr. Gojo and Ms. Y/N sure look friendly." Haibara's observation comes as the final nail in the coffin.

Suguru murmurs in a low tone. "Think she's interested in him?"

"Hard to find a person who isn't interested in Mr. Gojo." Haibara earnestly replies.

“Right…”

"But the same goes for you too, Mr. Geto." Haibara's voice prompts Suguru to face him. A soft smile plays on the younger man's lips, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. "I've been looking up to you since I first started working here. All of us do, even Nanami."

"You do?" Suguru draws confidence from his junior's timidity, enough to bestow him with a lopsided smile. "Why is that?"

"Because you are a hard worker!" Haibara declares. "Mr. Gojo is brilliant, but he was born into it. For us to reach him, that's impossible. You, on the other hand—you built yourself from the ground up. You are not only meticulous and good at your job, but you are also immeasurably kind! Both before and after your promotion, you've cared for us juniors and made the company a hospitable place for everyone. You are the goal we aspire to reach; you are our role model."

Working with someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.

A role model, huh...

Your words mix with Haibara's, swirling round and round at the languid pace of alcohol in his brain, inebriating enough for him to not reject them like he otherwise would. He knows what needs to be said. I'm the one who's grateful. I wouldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for such capable juniors. Satoru is the one you should be thanking instead.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru .

It's all him; it's always him. Everyone and everything in this room is here because of him, yet for the second time, Suguru is thanked for his efforts. For the nights he spent reviewing reports, fixing typos, and making overseas phone calls. For buttering clients up and spending every waking minute of his life networking. For talking people through their breakdowns and promising them their work makes a difference; that they matter.

It's almost enough to make up for all the unconditional praise his best friend received since birth, though Suguru refuses to let that be his consolation prize. Not when the perfect winning prize lies right ahead of him and waltzes into his office. Alone .

A glassy sound is produced as Suguru drops off his champagne and smiles at his colleague from over his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Haibara."

The door creaks softly behind Suguru as he enters his cloakroom-turned office, the faint click of a lock muffled out by the fading party music, its people fading with until it’s just you and him, away from distractions and interruptions, but more importantly, away from Satoru.

You haven’t noticed him yet. Your back’s turned on him, the golden threads of your sweater twinkling in the dark while you rummage through the coat racks, feeling out every texture with your fingertips. Wool, nylon, leather, and finally, cotton. The dark-colored jacket is slung over your arm, with your other hand digging into each pocket for… something .

Something that falls to the wayside once you become aware of the man’s presence and let out a tiny shriek.

“Mr. Geto!” There you go with that damn honorific again. “What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed into my own office?" Suguru sneers as he paces farther inside, his palms clasped behind his back.

"Y-you just scared me, is all."

He settles against his desk to study your startled features. You look even more beautiful when there's no one to steal your shine—a modern-day princess Kaguya, beckoned by the moonlight to return to its cratered land, although he’s made up his mind. Unlike the emperor in the story, he won’t let you escape him.

"Wasn't my intention." Drowning out his adoration, he cocks his head to the side and nods at your jacket. “Leaving already?”

“No, uh.” You fidget awkwardly, shoving whatever it is that your fingers caught back in your pocket. “Satoru asked—”

“Satoru, huh?” His tongue clicks in distaste. "You do anything Satoru asks?"

“What?” You question your own hearing, though he knows you heard him just fine. He sees it trembling in your eyes—feels it fanning against his jaw as he pulls away from his desk and stands before you, looking down on you in more than one way.

"I said, you'd do anything as long as Satoru is the one asking?"

"I...I'm not sure I understand."

"You don't?" His tone is syrupy, yet not sweet—a smile too condescending to be compassionate. "Allow me to rephrase, then. If Satoru asked you to spread your legs for him, would you?"

"Mr. Geto, I think you had too much to drink.” You chuckle nervously, gesturing toward his shoulder while simultaneously avoiding his stare. “Should I call you a cab? I don’t think you’re in a condition to drive.”

“No.” Suguru snaps, swatting your hand away. “No, you don’t get to play good assistant now. I asked you a question. Answer.”

He doesn't miss the hesitant bow of your head, which only confirms his suspicions. You want his best friend, and for once, he doesn't care that you do. It doesn't upset him. If anything, it offers him greater incentive to keep going without regard for your feelings or his own.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" The last vestige of bitterness follows him to the coffee table, where he grabs a seat by one of the two chairs, wood screeching like nails across a blackboard. Mounting one leg atop the other, "Can't say I blame you. President Gojo is growing too old to be running things, and Satoru already handles the majority of his affairs. Won't be long until he assumes office, and when he does, whoever is on his side will benefit the most."

Your silence encourages Suguru to continue. "But as things currently stand, you aren't all that important to him, are you? And if you were to suddenly lose your position, his interest in you would probably diminish."

"What do you want?" Your voice is meek when you speak—a pitiful sound begging to tug at his heartstrings.

Except he has no pity left.

Suguru leans forward and spreads his thighs over the cushion. His elbows prop against them, with his intertwined fingers providing a seat for his clenched jaw—dark eyes ever drilling holes into your fragile skull.

“It’s not about what I want, but about what you want. You said that working at this company is a great opportunity, and you’re right. It really is. I’d hate for you to lose it over a simple matter of allegiance.”

“Allegiance?” You echo.

He nods. “Don’t you think an assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her? You get paid to do what I say, not whore yourself to Satoru. If I tell you to jump, you should jump, and if I tell you to drop on your knees and stick your tongue out, that’s exactly what you must do. Getting the picture now?”

“Is that…so?” A hum answers your question. “Very well.”

Amber irises harden below knitted eyebrows, their transparent warmth giving way to opaque desire as he watches you approach with steady strides, his cock stiffening in his pants from the sharp intonation of your heels alone.

Something has shifted within you, though he can’t pinpoint exactly what. It’s like he sees you for the first time, confidence emanating from your very being as you drop off your jacket and gracefully sink on the floor before him, pleated skirt pooling around your bent knees—cherry lips licked together as your hands trail up his slacks and undo his belt, zipper next.

Is this really happening? Was it really that easy?

“Could you lift your hips, please?” You ask demurely, in the same considerate way you’d offer to refill his cup every morning.

A moment passes before Suguru obliges, part of him failing to separate fantasy from reality. He’s dreamed about this so many times that if it weren't for the soft palms rubbing up and down against his thighs, he’d be pinching himself awake. But you are definitely real, and you’re definitely there, and despite his conscience screaming that this is all wrong, he doesn’t let a future regret hold him back.

Shimmying out of both underwear and pants, Suguru’s cock springs free, already hard and twitching in anticipation, its slight curve pointing at your agape mouth. Your warm breath sends tingles up his spine as you inch closer, your lips rounding and then puckering hard around the fat tip. It's almost enough for him to lose composure, kissing his teeth when he feels your tongue drag a teasing circle on the underside of his shaft, wet and hot and far more skilled than he's ever imagined.

You let go before any praise evades Suguru, studying his lustful expression with a complacent smile that ends up rubbing him the wrong way. How many smiles have you offered Satoru while looking up at him like that? How many times have you practiced your technique on him to hone it to perfection? How many laughs have the two of you shared at Suguru's expense, knowing he's hopelessly wrapped around your dainty little finger?

Quick to wipe the hubris from your face, he takes hold of his cock and delivers a derogatory smack across your cheek.

"Test my patience one more time, and you'll be crawling out of here." His voice retains its smoothness even as he rubs the leaky slit against your lips, smearing a thin coat of glossy precum before he pushes his way back inside. "Better give me a good reason why I should keep an ungrateful slut like you around."

Suguru takes his time to explore your mouth, mapping out the wet cavern in its entirety. Your teeth are tucked behind your lips, their gentle firmness complementing the expert strokes laid by your tongue. Your cheeks hollow to accommodate him, air sucked and drool wetting his throbbing cock, some of it trickling to your chin. It's an extremely tight fit that grows tighter with every inch he stuffs you with, hitting the back of your throat long before he's wholly sheathed.

"Fuck." His head tips back in pure bliss. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

Doe eyes flick up, their lecherous innocence holding him captive. He thought he'd forsaken all affection held for you, yet his heart begs to differ, lurching at the sight of your bare knees bruising against the polished marble.

He's tempted to call it quits and pull you to his lap, praying that the sweet words piling in his brain seep into your ears like poetry and register as an apology. That, somehow, you forgive the selfish arms cradling you and excuse the greedy lips drinking from your mouth as if it were a chalice; that you allow a heathen like him to express his reverence with deep thrusts and profound pleasure that will make you worship him as much as he longs to worship you, names tangling in a breathless mantra.

He's about to do just that when suddenly he's reminded of how moments ago you were locking lips with his best friend in front of a live audience, and the resentment within him swells anew, expanding like a black hole set on devouring him. He shouldn't hope for more, because you won't be coming back for more. After tonight ends, you'll go running back to Satoru, and he'll be lucky if his attorney's license doesn’t get revoked.

So much for being a role model.

Might as well enjoy himself while it lasts.

Brushing the sticky strands of hair away from your face, Suguru pulls them into a makeshift ponytail that he uses as leverage to drive himself in deeper, letting out a stuttered groan once he bottoms out. Tears well in your eyes as he holds you completely still, heavy lashes blinking rapidly to filter them out.

"Lookin' so pretty with my cock in your mouth." Suguru rasps in a candied tone, his thumb rubbing against the apple of your cheek with tenderness before he forces your head to bob back and forth on his length. "Wonder what Satoru would say if he saw you like this. Perhaps we should call him in, mm ? Have him see what good that little mouth is when it's all plugged and can't talk back. Maybe he'll want to take turns using it. Maybe you’ll walk outta here with a bonus. My capable—ngh—assistant promoted to office slut."

There’s no way for you to respond. Even if he pulls back this instant, the wit he fell in love with will still be gone. Right now, you’re nothing more than a hole for him to take out his frustrations—no better than an average whore choking on dick.

The party music continues to blare strong in the background, your soft gagging barely enough to mute the rounds of applause that still reverberate in his gauged ears—so he fucks your face faster and harder, his hips slamming forward in tandem with the mean fingers gripping your skull, each thrust producing a sound more sinful than the one before.

He’s hellbent on erasing that kiss from his memory, keen on replacing his friend’s taste with that of his cum, and he’d be damned if he didn’t feel amazing in the process, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your jaw purely addictive.

And when he catches you rubbing your thighs together, he almost busts on the spot.

“You—hah—you really don’t care who it is, do you? Whether it’s me or him,” Suguru stammers, his tone whinier than he’d hoped. “As long as there’s cock in your mouth, you’re satisfied, aren’t you? Be honest; you aren’t even doing it for the job. You just get off on being used.”

He’s slowed down enough for the pleasurable vibrations on his cock to be felt, your eyes screwed shut with a hand lost between layers of skirt, searching for some sort of relief—relief he decides you don’t deserve.

“Ah-ah-ah! Who said you could cum, hm ?” Suguru chastises you by yanking you off his cock, a string of saliva chasing after your jaw as you stumble backward. “Told you to give me a reason not to fire you, and you did what exactly?” He tilts his head curiously. “That’s what I thought. Absolutely nothing. Not even worth the trouble.”

“W-wait!”

Before he has the chance to leave you high and dry on the floor, you scramble across your garments and tug at his pants in a pathetic attempt to get him to sit back down. He indulges. Not like he was serious about leaving anyway.

Your palm wraps around the base of his cock as you lean closer, licking a sloppy stripe from the base to his tip, and then all the way down again, sucking one of his balls into your mouth while simultaneously jerking him off.

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” Suguru breathes out, grabbing at the arms of his chair—his hips bucking into your palm. “Such a nasty little slut. Must really want this cock, huh? Come on. Show me how much you want this.”

Your eyes shine as though he praised you, and this time, you hold nothing back. You moan like you’re the one who derives pleasure, humming and even mewling as you switch from one ball to the other, your nose nuzzling to his warmth.

You pump him without a break, furiously rotating your palm over his cock head and squeezing right below with a ring shaped by your thumb and forefinger. Only he knows how he manages to hold back, pleasure so dizzying that his head spins, rearranging the furniture in the room.

“Th-that’s enough.” He voices amidst a broken moan, gently prying your wrist away—your mouth unlatching soon after.

Everything falls back into order as Suguru provides you both a much-needed reprieve, which you spend soaking in each other’s expressions. Dark strands of hair have fallen from his bun, clear beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. The shadows cast by the blinds conceal his flushed complexion, whereas the contrasting light exposes yours. Your chest heaves with every labored breath you take, mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and lipstick transferred from your lips to his cock, painting the pink tip scarlet red.

You look utterly debauched, but it’s not enough for him to call it a day. He wants more of you on him and more of him on you—more evidence that tonight wasn’t a figment of his imagination, taking place in the men’s room in between insufferable business meetings. Rather than keeping things a secret, he wants the whole world to know what transpired behind the closed doors of his office, and that sparks an idea.

He needs to put more of him in you.

With a small smile playing on his lips, Suguru helps you up, steadying you against his arms until you're able to stand on your own. You thank him with a hoarse voice and wobble on your heels as you're made to follow him to his desk, assuming position without him needing to speak a single command. You bend over the hard surface like you did the previous day and all the days before that, except your skirt's now rolled well over your thighs, and nothing obscures his view of your panties.

“How eager,” Suguru murmurs as he caresses the curve of your bare ass down to your clothed cunt, parting with a sigh when his pointer traces over the drenched fabric and prods it into your slit. “So wet from sucking my dick? Sure you weren’t thinking of someone else?”

“N-no.”

“No?” A smirk rings in his tone. “You don’t sound too sure.”

“Y-yes. I mean, n-no—oh fuck, r-right there!”

Your hips push back against Suguru’s hand, grinding against the long fingers that tug your panties to the side and slip into your wet hole.

He lazily works you open, each thrust concluding with his fingertips curling right into your sweet spot, coaxing soft whimpers to spill from your lips.

He pulls out once he feels you're sufficiently stretched, taking a second to admire the thin essence that dribbles down his digits before he uses it to lather up his cock, fighting back moans of his own whilst fisting himself to the lewd sight of his assistant offering herself to him.

Under different circumstances, he would've taken things slow. Under different circumstances, you’d be threading your fingers through his hair and sitting where you could comfortably watch him disappear between your thighs. You'd call out his name, and he'd lap at your juices until you're unable to hold yourself from cumming all over his face. Only then would he pepper your trembling thighs with kisses and tell you how well you did for him—what a good girl you are; his good girl.

“Doesn’t matter.” Suguru says for himself to hear, and it really doesn’t. Those ideal circumstances he dreams about are a thing of the past.

With a firm hand pressing on your back, he straightens you against the desk and runs his swollen cock head through your folds, voice laden with desire when he whispers, “Let’s see whose name you moan now, mm? ”

His thoughts hush as soon as his girth catches into the tight entrance of your cunt—a sigh gritted through his teeth as he finally sinks in.

He gives you a second to adjust, when in reality, it's him who needs the breather. All the longing and desire, the frustration and despair that'd been pooling in him for the past few weeks, culminate in this one perfect moment where your velvet walls hug his throbbing length, constricting around every inch he feeds inside you.

It's cathartic.

He remains breathing through his nose for a good while, too scared to open his mouth, lest he say something embarrassing enough to want to smack his head with the silver name plate on his desk right after. He's aware of how ridiculous it'd sound if he suddenly blurted out that he loves you, yet the warm feeling coursing through his veins can only be described as such.

Luckily, his final choice of words ends up being far more sensible.

“S-so fucking tight—”

“For a whore?” You interrupt, your droopy head lifting from over your slumped shoulders to bestow him with yet another winsome smile. God, you’re pretty.

“Never called you a whore.” Suguru's lips crack into a smirk of their own, while his fingers knead the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks for him to see the point where you connect. A pearly ring has formed at the base of his cock from your fluids combined, his balls snugly squished between your hips. God, this is so hot.

His gaze shifts away. If he keeps looking, he just might cum without getting to even fuck you properly.

“You didn’t? My bad. Must have been someone else.”

"Aren't you cheeky?" A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, escalating into a loud groan as his hips pull back and jerk forward in a thrust that knocks both the wind and smugness out of you, the recoil causing your body to jiggle against the desk. "That fucking audacity of yours is what got you in this place to begin with."

You try to say something that he doesn't care to hear, muting your words with a sharp thwack across your ass. You whimper in response, clenching so hard around him that he repeats the motion on the other cheek for good measure, your pathetic whines going straight to his cock. It's scary how much he enjoys this.

"Talking about other men," Suguru begins his recital of your crimes, his hips rutting in time with the smacks inflicted on your reddening flesh. "Accepting gifts and whatnot, letting yourself be paraded around like a fucking trophy"—the hardest slap yet—"guess that really makes you a whore."

Your body doesn’t know how to react, whether to moan from the pain or cry from the pleasure, with your upper half squirming and your lower half stilled against him, taking everything he gives you without complaint.

He pounds into you like an animal, wrapping strong arms around your waist to bring you closer, his cock barely withdrawing before being slapped back inside, fucking straight into your pulsing core.

“D-don’t worry.” Suguru sounds delirious when he talks, with more and more ebony locks cascading from his disheveled bun down his face and shoulders. “We’re gonna fix that, mm? Gonna be mine from now on. Mine to kiss." His weight is held against your body as he leans forward, large frame dwarfing you as he plants his lips on your nape. “Mine to touch,” his arms squeeze even harder, “and—ngh, all mine to fuck. My. Fucking. Assistant.” He growls, punctuating every word with another thrust.

Suguru feels himself nearing his release, his balls tightening the longer your pussy grips him, until a knock on the door causes the sweat on his body to go cold and forces him to sober up.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

With quick reflexes, Suguru slaps a hand on your mouth, concentrating every bit of his willpower on figuring out the best course of action, all the while the knob rattles at Nanami's attempts to break into the room, complementary pangs echoing against the wood.

“I just need my coat; open up!”

Whatever took over Suguru seems to have vanished into thin air, leaving him to fend for himself. It’s only then that the severity of the situation becomes apparent. Not only did he coerce his assistant to fuck him, but he did so at a company event where reporters from every major news agency have gathered for a chance to dig up dirt on the Gojos. If word gets out, they're all done for. Suguru, Satoru, the company—every person’s livelihood that depends on the Gojo name will go to waste.

He's hit rock bottom, drowning in self-deprecation, when your fingers curl around his hand and drag it away from your mouth, your thumb squeezing the inside of his palm in a motion that compels him to trust you.

"Manager Nanami?” Your voice sounds so worn out that it's barely recognizable, but it's good. It makes your next sentence more believable. "I'm so sorry for the holdup, but I wasn't feeling too well. Could you, um, give me five to ten more minutes? I promise to bring your coat out myself."

For what feels like an eternity, silence reigns both inside and outside the room, the two of you holding your breaths while the man on the other side of the door decides your fate.

“Fine.” Nanami finally speaks. “Please don’t take too long. I have a train to catch."

"Thank you so much!" You sigh in relief, your forehead pressing forward against the furniture.

A few moments pass before Suguru braces himself to talk, feeling too flustered to let relief wash over him just yet. "Why did you do that? Why would you—"

"Because I'm your assistant." Only half of your smile is visible from that angle, yet it somehow appears more genuine than the previous ones. "You said it yourself. An assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her. It's my duty to look after you."

Your words make Suguru come face-to-face with a realization that, for the longest time, he's conveniently ignored. You aren't equals. You never were. No matter how hard he's tried to bridge the gap between you, it's still there, paralleling the one between him and Satoru, except in both cases, the sore loser remains no one but himself.

"Now, let's hurry up." Your ass rubs impatiently against his pelvis, reminding him that his cock is still snuggled in your cunt. "We don't have much time."

Postponing soul-searching for as long as he can, Suguru picks himself up and slips a hand between your thighs, easily spotting the neglected nub that throbs above your abused pussy lips.

His thumb swipes over your clit, testing a combination of short circles and light flicks that have you seesawing back and forth between his hand and hips, soft moans of pleasure playing like music in his ears. He much prefers them to your sobs.

"F-feels so good, ahh."

"Such a good girl. Learned her lesson, hm?" He hums, lusciously massaging your insides with his cock, his pace far more forgiving.

He gets to relish everything this time. From the intimate way you hold onto his free hand while pushing back to meet his thrusts, to the stuttered Mr. Geto's that complement your pretty whimpers. He feels himself burning up, the heat from your core circuiting his own body and permeating the deepest parts of his soul. He's drunk on you, feeling more heady when inhaling your perfume than he did sipping champagne all night long.

"Mr. Geto, I'm gonna—" The rest of your sentence is cut off, sharp nails digging into his flesh while your shoulders tense up.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart?" Suguru asks, adrenaline rushing to his thick cock that insists on kissing your cervix while his fingers continuously assault the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Go ahead. My pretty assistant worked hard for it, didn't she? Proved how much she—f-fuck, she deserves her boss' dick. Cum on this dick, baby. Wanna feel you cum all over me."

"Please, Mr. Geto, pleasepleaseplease , right there, ahhh , please fuck me." Your begging has him losing his mind, the dam between his thoughts and his tongue breaking as he goes on to praise your very existence, no filter whatsoever.

"You were worth the wait. Wanted to do this since d-day one," Suguru pants out, shaking his head with a faint smile. "No, even longer than that. Been wanting you since I saw your picture, fuck—" He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Feels like I've been waiting on you forever."

His confession overlaps with your release, your walls spasming and contracting while the rest of your body goes limp. Suguru knows he won't last much longer, his pace growing sloppier by the minute as the aftershocks of your bliss reel him in, sculpted abs clenching in sync with his heavy balls until his hips come to a complete stutter, ropes upon ropes of his creamy seedy sputtering into your warm cunt.

A string of curses is unleashed as he groans your name, and he's still shuddering when he pulls out, staring wide-eyed at the mess he made. His cum flows out of your hole in a steady stream, trickling down your thighs as if taunting him to plug it back in. He doesn't think he's ever finished this hard in his life, and yet his cock insists on twitching even in the comfort of his palm.

Mesmerized by the sight of your spent pussy squirting out your shared fluids, Suguru makes no real effort to dress himself until his eyes spot the sparse drops that have dribbled from his weeping tip to the carpet below, and panic rings in his head like an alarm.

Frantically, he scans the dimly lit room for some paper—a cloth or a towel; anything that'd help him clean up—only to be struck with disappointment. He keeps none of these items around, and while he's mostly proactive about emergencies, he doubts plowing his assistant qualifies as one.

He's off to find the light switch (not without awkwardly tripping in his pants like a penguin first) when you sneak up behind him, your outfit put back together, with a tissue hanging from your open fingers.

"Whores always clean after themselves." You smile sweetly as Suguru accepts the offering.

The dark-haired man crouches to pick up his pants after wiping his cock clean. A smirk is plastered on his face as he tucks himself back into his underwear and crumples the used paper into a ball that gets tossed in the bin beside him.

"Gonna keep holding that against me?" He asks once he's gone back to looking somewhat presentable.

"Hmm, probably until Monday." Your chuckle placates his heart, only to make it thrum against his chest a second later. "Unless...you don't mind speeding up the process."

Your eyes pierce through him, shining brighter than the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. He almost wishes the room were kept in darkness, for the sole reason that his surprise remains hidden, hope lumping in his throat.

"What are you suggesting?"

You clutch onto your jacket while pacing around the room, halting in front of the stacked bookshelves mounted on one of the four walls. Your head tilts slightly as you explore his collection of hardcovers and attempt to read the cursive characters on one of his certificates, your smile losing its vibrancy as you go back to facing him, your eyes focusing anywhere but his.

"Rather than neither of us doing anything special for the holidays," you finally speak, "how about we do nothing special for the holidays together?" You lick your lips together, cringing at the way your voice cracks over the last syllable. "Say, outside Meiji Memorial Museum around 6 p.m. tomorrow?"

Suguru catches himself holding his breath, nitpicking your words even when they leave no room for ambiguity. "Are you asking me out?"

Your head is held low as you nod. "I figured after what just happened, you might be interested."

The lump in his throat dissolves only to recur immediately after.

"What about Satoru?" He asks in a hushed tone, prepared for disappointment.

"Satoru is," a small smile creeps up, "he's the most amazing person I've ever met, and will probably meet in my entire life. But," you gnaw on your lips, briefly meeting his eyes, "I have a preference for dark-haired workaholics." He nearly disputes the color of his own hair, relying on the reflection in your eyes to confirm his identity.

"Is that how you see me?"

"That's how most people in the office see you. If you were to ask me, I'd add kind to the list. Generous. Warm. Sly," you giggle before whispering the next word, "sexy."

Heat rises to his cheeks as Suguru wordlessly gawks at you. To say he's taken aback is an understatement. Part of him feels so ecstatic that he could grow wings and fly off into the night sky, while another part wants him to fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

He's such an idiot. No, more than an idiot, he is an irredeemable bastard who deserves none of your sympathy after what he did, and yet you don't seem to blame him one bit. If anything, you gaze at him with more affection than you've ever shown to either him or Satoru, affection that obliterates any doubt.

It's him. For once, and for all, and against all odds, it's him who gets to stand under the mistletoe beside you.

"If you're gonna reject me, please do it now." You squint in the cutest way imaginable. "I don't want to ruin my make-up."

Suguru smiles, allowing himself to openly fawn over your concerned expression.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that. Might wanna," he says, vaguely gesturing at your face.

Your knuckles turn black after rubbing below your eyes. Horrified, you dig another tissue from your pocket, hurriedly scrubbing wherever you deem necessary. "Better now?"

"I'd still dash straight to the elevator if I were you." Suguru chuckles at the face you make, taking a step forward. He runs his tongue along his lips, his voice reduced to a purr when he speaks. "You're right. Don't think I can wait until Monday to see you again." The proximity between your heads begs to be nullified, and he's made up his mind. He can't afford to lose you. Not as an assistant, and certainly not as a woman. He's shameless like that.

Bringing his palm to your cheek, Suguru pulls you toward him, planting a soft peck on your lips that tastes like finally.

By the time he draws away, you're both smiling—breathless, despite the kiss lasting less than a second. His hand glides from your neck to the curve of your shoulder, caressing tenderly, while yours rises to his forehead, having mustered enough courage to tuck the the loose strands of hair behind his ear.

"I should probably go first." Your announcement prickles his heart like a thorn. Walking into this room, he'd braced himself for losing you, yet now he can't even stomach the idea of spending a minute without you. "Don't want Manager Nanami to lose his train."

Not being left with much of a choice on the matter, Suguru nods, sighing softly as he watches you grab Nanami's coat and loop it around your arm, heading for the door. Your goodbye is postponed as you turn around with a jewelry-sized box in hand, the same item you were caught fumbling with when he entered the room earlier.

"This is from Satoru." You explain. "I don't know why or what's inside, but he said I should be the one who gives it to you."

When Suguru accepts it, you smile again and bow your head. "Merry Christmas, Suguru."

On second thought, he's so happy he could die.

Suguru is tinged red from head to toe as he sends you off with the same wish, undoing the silver ribbon that holds the box together after the door closes behind you. It's too small to contain an explosive mechanism, that's for sure, but he doesn't hear much of any rattling as he shakes its contents. His confusion grows tenfold once he lifts the lid and is greeted by the folded piece of paper within.

Unfolding it, the note reads a single sentence whose meaning registers in waves that crash over him along with the memories of the past month, the truths and the lies debunked with every repetition of those seven pesky little words.

Now you know what heaven tastes like.

A/N: I know what y'all wondering, and yes. Nanami did win the competition. Oh, and Satoru totally didn't plot behind the scenes for Suguru to make the first move. totally.

Hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, since this is my first time writing for Suguru.

Disclaimer: He did nothing wrong and he remains a pookie.

Somehow.

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