#because I had gotten so fed up with his bullshit

[beomiracles]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ And you don’t know why you took a step forward, why you let your hands brush against his, why you didn’t stop when you saw the bewilderment on his face. You don’t know why you leaned in closer, when you should be pulling back. — And you don’t know why you couldn’t look away, why you couldn’t tear your gaze from the flames dancing across his eyes. 

You don’t know why you kissed him. ⸝⸝

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ wc, 25.5k ་༘࿐

𝓹airing bully!beomgyu x fed-up!reader (f) 𝔀arning friends to enemies to lovers, bullying, implied violence, violence, beomgyu's a dick, reader's also mean at times, college au, kissing, fingering, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex + pullout, angsty confessions, hmm um um what else, I have no clue..

#serene adds ✎... HAPPY BEOMGYU DAY !! (because it's still the 13th here) ⎯ and oh my god have you guys been waiting for this fic... how long has it been, 6/7 months? maybe even more... I have no words. I feel like this fic is a little all over the place, you might notice the inner monologue changing and so on, but that's because I've been writing it over 6 months roughly, my view on the story has changed with each month... I hope it'll still be worth your while >.< happy gyu day, my love <33 - rain says I need to mention her

This story is a sequel to, The Redemption of Choi Yeonjun ⎯ It's advised that you read said fic beforehand !

People change for the stupidest of reasons. At least Beomgyu thinks so. He’s been told that his view of the world is narrow, that change is something good, something that everyone goes through. That change is important. What a load of bullshit. Look what change had done to his best friend. — Ever since Yeonjun had gotten together with that stupid nerd he’d changed. Changed for the worse. And it seemed as if Beomgyu was the only one who could see it. 

He glares at his classmates, but his once sharp gaze seems to have lost its touch. They whisper, talk, murmur, gossip, they speculate about him. Because everyone knew that something had happened between The Choi’s, that something was no longer the same. — But why him? Beomgyu wasn’t the one who’d changed, they changed, not him. Yeonjun was the one who…He was the one who became infatuated with that good for nothing nerd, and Soobin he…he just accepted it? 

Beomgyu almost snorts at the thought. Fine. If they wanted to give everything up just like that, they could, why should he care? But the lingering glances he receives as he pushes through the crowded hallways are near impossible to shake off. So what if he was walking alone? He didn’t need his friends, they weren’t his friends anymore, they were just side pieces in a much bigger pictur– 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going freak!” He seethes as a small boy crashes into his chest, a freshman probably. Beomgyu’s eyes narrow as he seizes the kid. The younger male swallows as he scrambles to gather his belongings, clearing his throat awkwardly as he pushes his glasses further up on his nose. — “I-I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going and I..” 

What a pathetic being. Beomgyu grimaces at his petty apology, “stay out of my way next time, alright? You weak piece of–” 

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” 

The voice is familiar as it pierces through the crowded hallway and suddenly the previous buzz of students surrounding him diminishes as Beomgyu’s gaze flickers past the small boy in front of him. — You. 

His teeth grind together at the sight of your cocky figure, that smug grin you always wore, as if you were better than everyone else, as if you were better than him. What a joke. Ever since him and his friends broke apart, you seemed to have been actively plotting against him, singling him out now that he was alone. — Beomgyu would die before admitting that your schemes ever proved successful. Because if there was one thing he hated, it was people who meddled in his business. And you seemed to know nothing else. 

The young freshman scurries off before Beomgyu has the chance to grab him and he bites back a frustrated groan. Instead his attention shifts to your approaching frame. With the small squeak of your sneakers against the floor, you stop inches from him, your eyes near level with his. — Blood rushes within his body like never before, anger soaring through him at the mere sight of your pestering face. 

“Pick on someone my own size? And that would be what, you?” He scoffs, eyeing you with disdain. The grin on your lips only widened further and he refused another grimace. Then it clicks, and Beomgyu has to hold himself back as he feels his jaw twitch. — “You.” The acknowledgement is a short huff of air, it hits your face and you squint as your eyes pierces his. “You’re the one who’s been running their mouth about me all week.” 

Suppose you had been mentioning his name a little here and there. A few comments, nothing crazy, nothing that wasn’t true. It wasn’t exactly unwarranted either. Choi Beomgyu was a nuisance. And without his friends to protect him, you were finally able to sharpen the knife that had been so diligently resting behind your back for three years. — You had longed for an opportunity to get back at him for all the shit he caused you through freshman and junior year; and finally, the universe presented you with one. 

You glance over at him, it would merely take a small raise of your heel for your eyes to become leveled perfectly with his. Without that tall friend of his, looming behind his back, or Yeonjun’s authoritative status, Choi Beomgyu was really nothing. — That didn’t change the fact that you absolutely loathed him. And you would be sure to have him know. 

“Why, has something interesting caught your ears?” You drawl, feeling the grin on your lips threatening to bloom into a smirk. Beomgyu’s face morphs into a scowl, undoubtedly familiar with the rumors of him you’d conducted during the past weeks. — “You must think you’re so smart, sitting on your ass all day and spewing nonsense”, he grits as he takes a charging step forward, chest colliding with yours and you almost stumble backward. 

It takes some effort but you manage to remain fairly unfazed as you eye him with indifference. It only serves to make him angrier. Beomgyu was like an open book, a book in which you only had to read the paragraph on the very back to understand exactly how it would end. He was predictable, and without his friends, he was an easy target for someone who’d been studying him for so long. 

“I do”, you chirp, hands clasping behind your back as you sway on the spot. Beomgyu scoffs, giving a small roll of his eyes before his firing gaze centers on you again. “Just stay out of my way.” — His attention drops to the uniform you wore, the one school handed out at the beginning of each year, much different from the designer one he had tailored each semester. It was subtle, but different, and Beomgyu’s grin widened as his eyes raked across your worn out shoes and old bag. “Think you’ve got other things to worry ‘bout.” 

Without another word, he continues down the hallway, though not before giving your shoulder a harsh shove. — Your lip twitches into an uncomfortable grimace and with a small huff you readjust your backpack. Fucking asshole. Your tongue prods against your teeth, tsking slightly as you watch him disappear. 

⸝⸝ 

“Oh come on, do you really think it’s that bad of an idea?” You whine as your cheek rests against your forearm, eyes trained on the words being written out on the paper before you. — “I do”, Taehyun states without lifting his pencil from the sheet, brows slightly furrowed as he focuses on his work. 

With a small huff you peer up at him, the glasses on the bridge of his nose are crooked and you resist the urge to snatch them from his face. “And what does Mr. Class President presume I should do then?” You sarcastically wonder; though the question makes him raise a disbelieving brow as he glances toward you. “I suggest you stay out of trouble.” — Just as you open your mouth in objection, does he cut you off; “and not spread rumors about him.” 

Your expression contorts into one of disagreement but you remain silent. In a way, you suppose you should feel thankful for him. Taehyun was your only friend, if friends were even what one could call you. — The mutual acquaintanceship consisted of you sharing the latest events of your quite dull life, recapping the drama you’d picked up on your way to the school cafeteria, and most importantly; Choi Beomgyu. 

Though he was originally opposed to the friendship, Taehyun had begrudgingly come to accept your persistent presence as you lingered by his desk between classes. And by your senior year, he knew everything that was to know about Beomgyu and why you so loathed him. — “Shouldn’t you let go of him? We’re about to graduate next year”, he states, his voice monotone as always but you could clearly decipher a hint of pleading as he urged for you to stop fawning over the guy. 

“Let go?” You scoff, sitting up a bit straighter as you eye him with a frown, “I do not need to ‘let go’, I need revenge, besides, Christmas break is coming up, I need to act fast.” — Seemingly unimpressed by your enthusiasm, Taehyun merely shakes his head as his focus returns to the piece of paper in front of him, scribbling down a few lines before he sighs; “and how exactly do you plan on doing that?” 

The way your face lit up was unmistakable and you could practically see him regret his words as you shuffled closer. “Well, I happen to have a plan–” But before you can finish, the classroom door swings open and your professor enters. With a small scowl, you lean back in your chair as Taehyun immediately disregards you, turning his full attention to the lecture about to take place. Jeez, what a try-hard.

History was far from your favorite, but the mention of a group project sparked your interest. Your professor was old, a tall and lanky man, and as he announced the presentation you were to hold regarding a historic event, the class groaned. — Immediately turning to Taehyun with hopeful eyes, you’re met with a small glare before he sighs and nods, announcing that the two of you could partner up. With delight you open your mouth to thank him when your history teacher’s raspy voice suddenly interrupts you. 

“Though seeing as your parallel class is taking the very same course, I thought it’d be a good idea to merge the two of you. – It’ll save me some time when grading as well”, he huffs as a small grin tugs at his wrinkled lips. — It doesn’t take long for the room to be drowned in a chaotic murmur. Your brows pull together in a confused frown and you twist in your seat, “what’s that supposed to mean?” — Taehyun merely shrugs as his eyes flicker between you and your professor by the board, and for once he seemed equally lost. 

A quiet cough makes your gaze snap back to your old teacher as he rummages through his bag for a small piece of paper. “Now I know you aren’t too acquainted with the other class, so I’ve taken the liberty of pre-arranging partners for you.” His statement is met with another wave of complaints and displeased groans as students leaned back in their chairs and shook their heads. 

“Wait, does this mean we won’t get to work together?” You wonder to which Taehyun gives a small nod, “most likely.” — You felt your heart drop at least ten floors as you watched your old teacher fasten the small piece of paper to the board. The sound of chairs scraping against the hard floor fills the classroom as everyone scurries toward the front, eager to see who they’d been partnered up with. 

Without thinking you, too, rise from your desk as you pull Taehyun by his arm, yanking him toward the board. It takes a few shoves to get through the crowd that had formed, but soon enough, you’re standing in front of the list. — Your eyes fervently scan the names, going over the rows at least twice before you find yours. It was as if all air had been sucked from your lungs, your throat uncomfortably dry as you eye the jagged scribbles. Next to your own name was ‘Choi Beomgyu’. 

Behind you, Taehyun lets out a short huff, his lips pulling into a menacing smirk as he eyes your expression. — “Was this also part of your ‘plan’?” 

⸝⸝

“I’m doomed!” You exclaim, hands feverishly tugging at your hair as you cling onto Taehyun’s shoulder. Met with a shrug from your friend who trudges forward, you pout, jutting your chin out as you whine in his ear. “What do I do?” — Taehyun sighs, pushing his glasses further up on his nose as his eyes scan the nearly empty hallway. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t have gotten on his bad side”, he scolds and you huff. 

“Come on now”, you mutter as you release your grip on him, “a rumor here and there has never hurt anyone.” — “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be taking my side?” You finish with a small frown, the crease on your forehead only deepening when he doesn’t say anything. “You told everyone that he threw up in one of the school bathrooms”, he then states and you snort, a small grin seeping onto your face. “So? He might’ve.” 

Taehyun shakes his head, “my point is, you’re already off to a bad start.” — His statement makes you slow down, the shift in your pace causing him to nearly stop as Taehyun turns to you with a confused look. “You’re talking as if I’m the one who should watch myself. – Tae, he’s an asshole, if anything, he should feel ashamed.” 

Your friend bites his lip as his gaze flits between the floor to the books in his hands, and you wondered if you had said something wrong. Choi Beomgyu had earned himself quite the infamous reputation at your college along with the other Choi’s, everyone knew that they were bad news, so why did no one speak against it? — Why did Taehyun cower at the name? 

You couldn’t possibly understand their unreasonable fear. 

But you don’t have to ponder for long, because mere moments later, an all too familiar voice calls out. — “Hey, class president!” Beomgyu’s nasty drawl echoes off the desolate walls as he nears you. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his expensive uniform, and he walks with an allude of confidence. 

Upon hearing his name called, Taehyun freezes beside you as he hesitantly turns to face the source of the voice. Stopping mere inches from your friend, Beomgyu leans forward with a smug smirk and Taehyun hastily blinks under his glasses. You watch their small exchange with a puzzled expression. — “You got my essay?” Beomgyu asks as he quirks a brow in the shorter male's direction. His essay? 

Taehyun nods as he reaches for the bag swung over his shoulder, undoing the zipper as he rummages through its contents. Beomgyu watches him with a look of nonchalance, seemingly unaware of your presence as he focuses on your friend before him. — “Here”, Taehyun murmurs as he hands him at least four pages worth of paper, neatly stapled together. 

Beomgyu scans through it leisurely before giving Taehyun’s shoulder a harsh pat, making the shorter wince. “What’s the meaning of this?” You spit, unable to help yourself as you witnessed the person you so loathed go after your only friend like that. Finally, he seems to acknowledge you as Beomgyu’s eyes snap in your direction, his hand falling from Taehyun’s shoulder as his face contorts into a small scowl. 

Despite the lack of his friends, he still made do with the reputation he had left. Your rumors seemed to have made an insignificant dent in the power he held. But…Taehyun? Of all people, he wouldn’t possibly… Your gaze flits down to the essay in Beomgyu’s hand and over to your friend who avoided your gaze as he urged for you to come with him without causing a bigger scene. 

“Why don’t you stay out of my business.” Beomgyu sneers as he eyes you with distaste. “Business? You call this business?” You frown as you shrug Taehyun’s hands from your arm, stepping between your friend and the menace before him. — Your nose could practically graze his as you let out a short breath of air, meeting his furious gaze with one of your own. 

“Bullying people into doing your work? How do you expect to make it outside of college?” The comment makes his already angered expression flare up and you catch his hands curling into fists by his sides. — “Worry ‘bout yourself won’t you?” he scoffs, ready to push past you.. until your next words catch him off guard. 

“Well that’s going to be difficult, seeing as we’re partners now.” 

He stops, dark eyes snapping back to yours within milliseconds and you feel Taehyun’s hand urgently tug at your arm as he silently pleads for you to back down. — “What?” The word comes out as a mere hiss and you can’t help but feel a triumphant grin pull at the corner of your lips. Ah, so he didn’t know yet. 

“Haven’t you heard?” — You let your head fall to the side, an amused expression flashing across your features as you take in his puzzled and angered state, so predictable. “Mr. Brown’s class, the history project, we’re partners, you and me.” The dread that had previously consumed you seemed minimal when you with satisfaction watched Beomgyu’s face practically explode in a multitude of enraged questions; none of which you were planning on answering. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He spits, a look of disbelief presenting itself across his otherwise arrogant face. You shrug, letting Taehyun pull you back as you send him a small wave, “that we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other I suppose.” — Before you can get another word out, your friend has pulled you down the hall in a most hurried manner; scurrying to get away from Beomgyu's piercing gaze as he leans against the wall with a small huff, eyeing you with a mixture of fury and intrigue. 

“What the hell was that?” Taehyun grumbles as he drags you along, walking with determined strides. You merely roll your eyes as you let yourself be swayed down the long corridors. — “I should be asking you that”, you counter, still not over the fact that he had written an entire essay for the scumbag. 

Not late to catch on, Taehyun bites the inside of his cheek as he fiddles with the glasses on his nose. “Nothing you should worry about”, he mutters, intent on disregarding any further questions. “Nothing I should worry about? What are you, his slave?” — “Don’t say it like that”, he groans and you frown, stopping completely as you break yourself free from his grasp. 

With an exasperated sigh, Taehyun turns to you as he runs a hand through his short hair. “Listen, it was a one time thing and..” — “That’s how it always starts”, you huff, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “Soon he’ll be asking you to write his exams for him as well”, you exclaim, throwing an accusing finger down the hall. 

But Taehyun only shakes his head as he waves his hands in front of him in denial. “I’m just helping him out..!” — Your gaze narrows down on your friend, helping him out? Sure Taehyun was many things, friendly? – was not one of them. And to think that he was willingly helping one of the Choi’s with something so trivial… 

“Does he have something on you?” You ask, watching as Taehyun’s eyes widened, “is that why you’re slaving away like this?” — “No I..” He begins but quickly seals his lips in a tight grimace, “you don’t understand.” Like hell you didn’t. Why on earth would anyone stoop to such a level. For over two years you had watched as the Choi’s ruled your school, and to say that you were sick of it would be an understatement. 

Perhaps your hatred for the small trio was rooted deeper than your peers. Especially your hatred for Choi Beomgyu. — Because you hadn’t always hated him, in fact, at one point, you think you might’ve even liked him. 

⸝⸝ 

“Hey, is this seat taken?” 

The voice is warm, kind and friendly. It makes you blink as you tear your gaze from the small pile of nail polish that had accumulated on your desk, your nervous habit of picking at the paint evident. — First day of freshman year, first day of college, that had been the day. 

With a small nod, you motion toward the chair next to your own. He takes the seat, grinning from ear to ear as he studies you with curiosity. “Nervous?” He wonders as he tilts his head to the side. “Yeah..” Your quiet whisper is near inaudible but he still seems to pick up on it as his lips stretch further. “Me too”, he says and you can’t help but frown, he didn’t look nervous in the slightest as he comfortably leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the collar of his shirt leisurely. 

He was way out of your league. — Yet he reaches a hand out, eyes darting from yours and down to your own intertwined fingers. His palm is soft and warm against yours, his grip unwavering as he shakes your hand. “I’m Beomgyu, Choi Beomgyu”, he smiles, it’s a kind smile, and your heart flutters at the sight. 

Choi Beomgyu. What a pretty name. 

You spend your first week with him, it was nice to have someone you could call a friend. Someone who made you feel less alone, and Beomgyu did, the two of you were friends, you think. 

You ate lunch together… 

“Tofu’s the best when grilled”, Beomgyu hums as he shoves a forkful in his mouth, barely swallowing as he loads yet another one. You giggled as your gaze returned to your own plate, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. The cafeteria was both crowded and loud, you had dreaded the days you would spend alone in here. 

But as Beomgyu found a nice and secluded table for the two of you, even pulling your chair out with an over exaggerated bow to which you rolled your eyes, you felt hopeful. — Perhaps college wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

And you studied after school…

“If 9 is the value of ‘x’ then all we have to do is replace the variables with such”, you say as you scribble across his notebook. Beomgyu’s frown was nearly dented into his forehead, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. “But how does nine become ‘x’? Isn’t nine a number and ‘x’ a letter?”He wonders to which you shake your head. 

“Not in this case”, you state before drawing a small ‘x = 9’. Scratching the back of his neck dumbfoundedly, Beomgyu gives a deflated sigh as he slumps against his chair. — “I’m never graduating.” 

You even saw one another outside of school…though only once.. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here..” You quietly mumble, eyes flitting across the expensive looking furniture. The restaurant was small but reeked of wealth, the meals here were surely out of your budget but Beomgyu had insisted on you joining him one friday evening. — “What?” He exclaims in bewilderment, “Are you kidding? This is the best place in town!” 

True to his word, he paid for your meal, not hearing you out on trying to pay him back in the near future. — “Spending time with you is more than enough”, he says as a matter-of-factly, arm wrapping around your shoulders as you walk down the empty streets. 

Not to forget that one time he’d asked for your number… 

“I mean it’s just… I think you’re cool and..” He clears his throat, sending you a sheepish smile before continuing. “Just y’know, for staying in touch and things..” — The timidness of his request made your heart flutter as a grin spread across your lips. 

“Of course I’ll give you my number, silly!” 

The relief immediately flooding his face was palpable as he sighs, eagerly fishing his phone up for you to put the digits in. He made sure to add a pink heart next to your name, promising to be at your every beck and call should you ever need him. 

It was friendship, right? 

Doing stuff together, noticing things about each other, like the cute little mole on his left cheek, accentuating his already endearing grin. Or his habit of pushing his hair from his face with the help of his pinky, carefully touching up the dark strands, almost absentmindedly. 

You wondered if Beomgyu noticed things about you too. Did he see things you didn’t, and did he like them? Did he like you? Perhaps you would’ve gotten answers to all of those questions, had things turned out differently. 

It was inevitable, of course, you were all enrolled in the same class after all, they were bound to bump into one another soon enough. But things changed when Beomgyu met Choi Yeonjun, changed for the worse. And it didn’t take long for him to become someone completely different, someone unrecognizable. 

Slowly he stopped showing up to your study sessions. More often he’d make excuses to not walk you to class. You began eating lunch alone, and before you knew it, Beomgyu was no longer part of your life. — Except he was, just as someone else. Someone cruel, someone who didn't care about what others felt, someone who only lived to make others suffer. 

His new friends were no different, and together they earned themselves an infamous reputation as the school’s bullies. It hurt. Seeing them act so nonchalantly when toying with others, with people who’d done nothing to upset them. — And as you catch him in the hallway one day, a much smaller student hoisted up by the collar of his shirt, Beomgyu’s grip unwavering as he spits insults in the younger’s face. 

It was then you grew to loathe Choi Beomgyu. 

⸝⸝ 

Your finger hovers over the block button as you lay in bed that night. Back then, just as you applied to switch classes, as you tried to get as far away from him as possible, you had rid yourself of his number too. Part of you thinks you should’ve deleted the old chats along with blocking him, but something held you back. It felt…oddly comforting, re-reading the old messages between the two of you, a glimmer of what you’d once had, of what he’d once been. How pathetic. 

With a small groan you let your phone fall down onto the mattress next to you, shifting to lay on your side as you prepare to let sleep overtake you. He would have to bring it up, because there was no way in hell that you were unblocking and texting first. — “Fucking piece of shit”, you tiredly murmur, letting yourself fall into a very uncomfortable slumber, plagued by the thoughts of your upcoming weeks. 

Beomgyu did not text you first. In fact he didn’t text you at all. The whole weekend goes by, and not a single word. Taehyun on the other hand, had been paired up with some stuck up bitch, he’d told you her name, something on M…M, M, M… Ah yes, Mimi. She’d dated one of the Choi’s, until he left her for that shy nerd, served her right. — But even the two of them had already gotten together to get working on their presentation. 

You had until Christmas break, but that was a mere three weeks away, and at this rate, you’d be lucky to get done by graduation. — Finally, your gloomy reality sets in, and you heave a loud sigh as you drag yourself down the hallway. History classes had become optional, and without your partner, there was little to be done. You spend the hour roaming the third and second floor, sneakers squeaking against the uneven tiles. 

Upon passing that one peculiar little red door, your ears are met with the muffled sounds of what could only be someone getting their guts absolutely plowed. Your nose wrinkles in disgust, ‘room 291’, you could only imagine how many girls had lost their virginity in there. — Shaking your head, your gaze returns forward, but instead of continuing your eternal journey down the long corridors, you freeze. 

The object of your affection was standing right there. You thought he’d skipped. Anything to avoid the project at hand you’d supposed. But Beomgyu’s eyes meet yours, and though he’s all the way down the hall, you still catch the disgust lingering in them. His lip twitches, jaw clenching for a split second, and then he’s turned on his heel, marching down the hallway faster than you could blink. 

You scramble to catch up, upping your pace to a light jog as you call for him. “Hey asshole!” But he isn’t listening, nor is he stopping. In fact…Was he walking even faster? What a dick. “Hey wait up!” Fuck, was he really going to make you chase after him? How immature. — Thankfully having made the girl’s football team in seventh grade seemed to have paid off, and you managed to reach him soon enough. 

Fingers clasping around his forearm, you yank him backward, making him spin around on the spot as he collides with you. The crash makes you wince and you retreat, blinking to regain focus before turning your attention to him. Beomgyu was already watching you, his lips curled into a nasty scowl as his brows furrowed. “What?” He spits, his voice barely above a hiss.

Suddenly, you realize just how close the two of you were standing, chests nearly grazing one another, and the scent of his cologne invades your senses; it was the same one he’d worn for all of college, at least that hadn’t changed. — You clear your throat, quickly scanning the empty hallway before you turn to him, plastering on the sternest of expression you could muster. “The project”, you say, subtly straightening your back. Beomgyu raises a questioning brow as his hands dig into the pockets of his uniform.

You frown, and only when you add the word “history” does he seem to catch on. “Oh yeah, that one”, his features relax, lips pulling into a small grin, “how’s it coming along?” Your mouth opens and closes again. “Excuse me?” You huff, the anger in your words palpable. Still running with his act of obliviousness, Beomgyu shrugs, it was clear that he enjoyed the easy rise he was getting out of you. How you would practically explode over his mere existence. You think he liked making you like that, perhaps it made him feel in control. 

Well he wasn’t. Not anymore. 

“It’s a group project”, you state, folding your arms across your chest, “there’s no way I’m doing this alone.” — Beomgyu looks almost as if he's considering your words, his lips pursed and head tilted to the side. “So ask your little friend to tag along, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to”, he jeers, flashing you a nasty smirk. Was he talking about Taehyun? Your Taehyun. The same Taehyun that he’d made write his essay. 

Your feet move on their own as you take a quick step forward, jabbing an accusing finger to his chest and Beomgyu’s face contorts into a small scowl at the action. “You’re hilarious if you honestly think I’d let you off the hook this easy, that I’d just let you sit back and take credit for my hard work.” You move to shove him backward but his hand is already clasped around your wrist, restraining any movement. 

“Get your fucking hands off of me”, he spits, yanking you from his chest with a force that was near bruising. — “Why? Scared that I’ll dirty your expensive attire with my grimy hands?” You retort as you gesture toward his clothes. Beomgyu sneers as he shakes his head, his long hair falling in front of his face before he pushes it back again. “You’ve already tarnished my reputation with that dirty mouth of yours”, he barks, eyes flickering with malice, “got nothin’ better to do than spreading shit about me, do you?” 

He shifts on the spot, his gaze wandering down the hall briefly, as if checking for witnesses before his attention returns to you. “I’m not stupid, I know it’s you, and I know you’re behind this whole group project too.” — Woah there, way to get ahead of himself. You scoff, arms falling to your sides as you regard him with disbelief. “You think I set this up on purpose? As if I’d want to be anywhere near you-”

 “Well you sure act like it”, he cuts you off, gesturing toward the two of you and the empty hallway you were currently occupying. “Chasing after me like this, trying to get me alone, and the rumors”, his face flashes with something akin to contempt, a spark of his usually crude and mean demeanor simmering through his facade of hate. “I mean come on, it’s obvious.” 

Your jaw could practically sweep the floor at this rate and you almost wanted to laugh at the near comical situation. “Whatever it is you’re implying, I can assure you, you’re way off”, you huff, quick to defend yourself. His fingers are still locked around your wrist, an almost tingling sensation spreading through your arm. Upon trying to tug yourself free from his grasp, Beomgyu’s hand only tightens around yours, dark eyes boring into your own as he scoffs: “Cut the crap. You’ve been chasing after me for years.” 

The blunt accusation makes you pause, and for a moment every single comprehensive thought completely evaporates from your head. Chasing after him? No. You’d been trying to make his life a living hell, so what if that included knowing his entire schedule and who he hung out with? It was all part of a much bigger picture, a picture his tiny brain failed to comprehend. — But then again, Beomgyu had always had an ego made out of steel. It wouldn’t be the first time he would twist and turn a situation entirely in his favor. 

“What’s it that loser friend of yours said? To let me go?” He chuckles, warm breath hitting your already flaring face. How did he know about that? Just how much had Taehyun told him when doing his essay? — Your usually sharp mind can’t seem to conjure a single witty remark, and you’re left biting the inside of your cheek as you send him a bitter glare. 

His hand lets go of your wrist, and Beomgyu takes a step back. “Perhaps you should listen to Mr. Class Pres, it might do you good.” With a final cruel smirk, he shoves past you, shoulder slamming against yours as he ventures down the hallway with his hands leisurely stuffed into his pockets. 

You want to scream, throw something at him, possibly advocate for murder, but you do nothing, nothing but watch his retreating figure as he disappears down the corridor. Fucking asshole. 

⸝⸝

That night left you in a flammable state. Anger gnawed at your very being as you paced the small space of your dormitory. Who was he to speak to you like that? And how would you ever make this project work? Talking to him was useless, a complete and utter waste of time. — Then it hits you. Like a small lightbulb being turned on over your head. Talking to him was pointless, you knew that. But what if you just didn’t speak? 

The cafeteria is as packed as it could get that following Tuesday, and you have to paddle through the large ocean of students, all eager to find an empty seat. You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less for today’s plain lunch menu, and instead of searching a clear table, your eyes scan for the most crowded one. 

It doesn’t take long for you to spot him. Surrounded by a heap of what you could only assume to be acquaintances, Beomgyu sits perched on a table in the center of the room. Conversation flows around him but his gaze is glued to his phone in his hand, mindlessly swiping across the screen in a bored manner. You wondered if he even knew the names of those surrounding him. You guessed not. Beomgyu had a.. unique way of making friends, if friends were even what they were. They looked more like tokens, perhaps he used them to appear less alone. 

His attention suddenly shifts from the device in his hands and you follow its direction, eventually landing on a table not far from his. — Occupied sparsely by a mere three students, three students whom you easily recognized. Choi Yeonjun leans forward, his arm wrapped around a girl you recognized as his girlfriend. He looks to be in deep conversation with the third of their small party, Choi Soobin. 

They used to be friends, Beomgyu and them. You remember it clearly. The harsh words, the glares, the distaste on their faces whenever they passed you by in the hallway. But something had obviously happened, a small rift in an otherwise unbreakable circle. And you’re not late to pick up on the way Beomgyu continues to glance their way, even when surrounded by at least a dozen others. You recognize the look in his eyes, the longing. It was the same way you’d been looking at him for the past two years. 

Perhaps he had a weakness after all. 

Your fist slams against the firm surface of his table, making everyone around you snap their heads in your direction. Their eyes boring into you suddenly made you waver, but you shake it off, turning your attention to your target, now only inches from yourself. — Beomgyu glances up from his phone, brows immediately furrowing as his lips part. Surely he had an insult waiting on his tongue, but you cut to the chase by shoving a small piece of paper in his free hand. 

His confused gaze flickers down to the note as he begins unwrapping it, only to be stopped by your hand on his as you shake your head. You mouth the words “not here”, and he scoffs, though shoving the paper in his pocket. — His token friends all burst out into “oooo”s as they wiggle their eyebrows suggestively. 

Beomgyu pays them little mind as he rolls his eyes, instead he watches your retreating figure as you push past the crowd in which you had emerged from. A subtle smirk playing on his lips as he mindlessly fiddles with the note in his pocket. 

⸝⸝

You had no idea if your plan was even going to work. Would he show up? Or had he thrown the paper in the trash at the first opportunity he got? — Running a frustrated hand through your hair, you sigh, casting a quick glance at the time on your phone, 5:27 pm. He still had three minutes. 

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you start to reconsider the choice of bringing him to your dorm room, was it really such a good idea? Though it was hardly like he’d show up anywhere in public with you. This was your best bet, you think.. 

The minutes tick by and your anxiety levels only rise, heart hammering in your chest as you pace the small space of your dormitory. By 5:47 you realized that he was a no-show. A weird mixture of disappointed relief floods you, it’s strange, you had expected the disappointment but why did you feel relieved? Did the idea of spending time alone with him scare you? No. That was impossible. 

Flopping down onto your bed, you emit a small sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed as you replay today’s scenario in your head. Scared? What a joke, Beomgyu didn’t scare you, he was nothing but an immature, selfish, rude piece of–

Knock knock. 

Your body jolts forward, flying off the bed like a deer in headlight as your head snaps in the direction of your door. He came? He actually came. You didn’t know whether to cry or laugh as you gingerly got up. — As you head for the door, you stop by the small mirror by your clothes drawer to check your reflection. Quickly running a hand through your hair, your eyes scan for a lip balm. You catch yourself mid-act, almost cringing at the way you tried to appear presentable. What the fuck were you doing?

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you twist the handle as the door glides open, revealing no other than Choi Beomgyu on the other side. He’s still wearing his school uniform, and his gaze quickly lands on the loose t-shirt and plain sweatpants you’re dressed in, a glimmer of distaste overshadowing his otherwise expressionless face. You ignore the silent insult as you clear your throat, “You’re late.” 

Beomgyu scoffs, his eyes darting down the hall either side of him before pushing past you as he steps inside. “You’re gonna nag me about that too?” He drawls, hands digging into his pockets as he saunters about, taking in the small space you resided in. You notice that he hasn’t brought along any study materials, and you internally groan. “Yes, I am. If this is going to work out then we’re going to have to work together”, you state, folding your arms across your chest as if to prove your point. 

Your partner merely hums as he fiddles with the papers scattered across your desk. “Cute room you’ve got”, he comments as he points to the entirety of your dorm. Your jaw slacks as you blink dumbfoundedly. Did he just give you a compliment? No, you catch the smugness in his voice, and the small glimpse of a smirk as he turns back to your desk. Asshole. 

“I’m serious”, you huff, “this project is important to me, we need to do well on it.” One thing you couldn’t afford to screw up were your grades. Not that they were anything spectacular of the sort, in fact you were flunking French. But as long as you did well in a few of your best subjects… History being one of them. 

Shoving the pen he was previously twirling between his fingers back into its container, Beomgyu turns to you with a sneer. “If it’s so important then I reckon you’d do better by yourself, I might just slow you down.” He regards you with an apathetic expression, almost as if he was waiting for you to snap, to lash out on him and to yell. You suppose it must surprise him when you instead only shake your head, dragging yourself over to your bed as you flop down with a heavy thud. 

“Let’s just get started”, you mutter, pulling your computer out as you power it on. Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow in your direction but doesn’t say anything as he leans onto your desk, hands returning to their default position in his pockets. — “How about one of us gathers information and the other one writes it down onto a powerpoint?” you suggest. He looks to be considering your words as he scratches his chin thoughtfully. 

“Fairs.” He shrugs as he pushes himself off the table and before you know it, the mattress dips next to you as he sits down. Your whole body tenses up, your eyes remaining glued to the computer screen in front of you as you avoid as much as peeking his way. You weren’t scared of him. But a part of you felt so oddly on-edge whenever he was around, you couldn’t quite place the feeling. 

His body radiates warmth, a warmth that spreads over to your own, a bead of sweat accumulating on your forehead as you swallow. You weren’t scared of him so why did your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest? — The smell of his expensive cologne, usually sickly strong as it tickles your nose, now only feels nostalgic as you breathe in. He’s so close that your hands are on the verge of touching, his pinky inches from yours. 

Beomgyu on the other hand seems unfazed as he peers over at your screen. “I’ll do the research part”, he states as he leans back against the headboard, “sounds less demanding.” You silently exhale in relief as he creates a safe radius of distance between the two of you, nodding as you hum in response. 

The two of you work like that, side by side in silence for a good while. At first you’re so engrossed in your work, doing anything to distract yourself from the fact that Beomgyu was quite literally less than three inches away, on your bed, in your dorm. But as time goes by, you finally dare to tear your gaze from the screen in front of you, and sneak a small peek at him. 

It felt almost surreal. Two years of being strangers in the halls, two years of constant insults, two years of hatred. Yet here he was, so close to you, just like he had been before everything changed, before he changed. 

But now, the two of you were doing something so mundane together. 

Your gaze lingers on him, even though it probably shouldn’t. But you can’t help the way your eyes trail across his seemingly relaxed expression. From the small, almost unnoticeable, furrow of his brows, the subtle pout of his bottom lip and the natural flush of his cheeks. Your attention strays by his dark eyes as they move along the words on his screen when reads. If you tried really hard, you might’ve been able to forget about everything that had happened, if only for a few minutes. 

Maybe. Just maybe. 

Suddenly, you want to reach out and touch him. To run your fingers through his long and unkempt hair, feel the skin of his hand in yours. And you almost do. Until you remember. — Things weren’t like that anymore, they hadn’t been for over two years. You almost recoil at the slip of your thoughts; for having allowed yourself to fantasize like that when reality was far from it. The Beomgyu before you wasn’t the Beomgyu you knew back then. No. You didn’t know this Beomgyu, and it’s with a bittersweet taste in your mouth that you accept said fact. 

You think half an hour might’ve passed when you notice that something’s off. Thirty minutes of radio silence from his otherwise enthusiastic mouth. And as you peer over your shoulder, you find him leisurely swiping across his screen, eyes glued to something that looked far from the information he was supposed to gather. — “What’re you doing?” The question slips from your lips without you actually thinking it through. Beomgyu’s head turns in your direction and he watches you with an expression that said, ‘what the fuck does it look like I’m doing?’

“I thought we agreed on working on the project”, you say as you point a finger toward your open laptop. Beomgyu merely shrugs, his eyes flitting back to the phone in his hand. “I’ve done my part”, he sighs and your brows knit together in confusion. A small tap of your finger leads you to the first slide of your powerpoint, in which he’d copied and pasted in what could only be pages worth of information. 

Seemingly noting your flabbergast expression, Beomgyu huffs, “Why, you can’t expect me to seriously read all of that?” — “So you’re saying we should just cheat our way through it?” The disbelief in your voice is palpable but he doesn’t seem to pick up on it as he gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not cheating. The information is out there to be used, doesn’t say how to use it”, he states. You have to bite your tongue in order to not let your words slip as you stare back at the computer screen with a puzzled face. 

He did have somewhat of a point. But you’d rather die than admit that. Besides, his ways would surely land you a ‘barely passed’ at most. And you wouldn’t have that. — Grumbling out a quiet, “whatever”, you turn back to the powerpoint as you begin sorting through the paragraphs pasted in there. You quickly become immersed in your work, and fail to notice how Beomgyu discards his phone on the bed as he glances around your room with curious eyes. 

You swallow a groan as you re-read the same paragraph for a third time, seemingly unable to focus with him around. Perhaps he was right, perhaps you should’ve just bit into the lemon and done this project on your own. — “Fuck, you kept this?” Beomgyu’s almost taunting voice snaps you from the text you were so close to giving up on, and you turn to him with a confused frown. 

Though your eyes quickly widened as they landed on the bracelet Beomgyu was holding between two fingers. Suddenly your heart is racing and your breaths are coming in short. The already thick air feels even heavier and you emit a shaky exhale. The brown leather, interlaced with streaks of blue, immediately sends your mind to places you hadn’t allowed it to wander for nearly two years..

⸝⸝

“A friendship bracelet?” you question as you eye the small piece Beomgyu had just handed you. The fine leather felt expensive and you wondered just how much he’d spent on this. It was braided together with a thinner blue thread, the cold shade a stark contrast to the warm brown leather, and your thumb slowly traces its outline as you bring it to your face. 

Beomgyu coughs into his hand, shaking his head as he rocks back and forth on the sole of his shoes. “When you put it like that it sounds childish”, he mutters, the tip of his ears radiating a warm pink and you feel your lips tug into a grin at the sight. — “It’s more like..” He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze strays by the bracelet in your hands: 

“Like a piece of me.” 

Your eyes widen when he suddenly takes a step forward, reaching for the accessory as he plucks it from your fingers. “So that, in a way, I’ll always be with you”, he says as he wraps the leather around your wrist. — It’s impossible to refrain from smiling and your cheeks heat up as he carefully fastens the bracelet around your arm. — Then your curious eyes suddenly fall on the leather around his own wrist, a darker and cooler brown intertwined with a warm red. 

A weird and tingly sensation spreads throughout your stomach as you swallow. And before Beomgyu can withdraw his hand again, do you stop him, fingers clasping around his wrists as you bring them together. — The blues and the reds, they remind you of the friendship necklaces you wore back in elementary school. Two halves of a heart, a childish but sweet promise to be what makes the other one whole. 

Was it childish? Probably. But it was Beomgyu, and you found that you did not care for such matters when he was around. In fact, you think you might even like it. — No, you did like it. You liked everything Beomgyu did, you liked everything about him. And though you were too shy to even admit it to yourself, you probably liked him too. 

“It’s okay right?” 

His sudden question snaps you from your train of thought and you blink as your gaze returns to his warm eyes. He looks…nervous? You’d never seen him like that. Beomgyu was always so adamantly prideful, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him waver. But you decide that you like this side of him too, the bashful and almost cute one. 

“I love it.” And you do, you really do. You love it so much that you keep it even when he stops wearing his. Even when he no longer represented your other half. You keep it for two years, tucked inside the top drawer of your bedside table where it resides, waiting for the day where you might finally be able to look at it without bursting into tears. 

⸝⸝

“Where did you get that?” Your tone is harsh and snappy but it barely makes him flinch as Beomgyu leisurely twirls the bracelet between two fingers. — You reach for it, but you’re too slow, and can only helplessly watch as his whole fist envelops the leather. “I expected a lot from you, granted that you’re still running your mouth about me and all”, Beomgyu drawls as he leans back against the pillows. “But you even kept this piece of shit?” — “I mean come on, it’s pathetic.” 

His words stung. Pathetic? Did he really think of your time together as that? Did he think of you as that? Of course he did, you idiot, get that through your thick skull. You hate Beomgyu. One half-successful study session in the privacy of your dorm didn’t change that and it never would. 

He probably threw his out, it would make the most sense if he did. Perhaps you should’ve too. You switched classes, blocked his number, and avoided him as best as you could in the halls. So why had you kept that? Why did you cling to something so insignificant? Why did it bring you comfort to feel the cool leather against your palm? 

“Just give it back”, you groan as you meekly try and pry his closed fist open. Beomgyu looks as if he’s going to put up a fight, say something nasty back, but he doesn’t. Instead he lets you untangle the bracelet from his fingers, watching as you snatch it back before throwing it on your bedside table once more.  — An uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you, weighing down like dark clouds on a previously sunny day. You wait for him to say something, but he never does. He only watches you with that nearly permanent half-smirk of his, brows tugged slightly upward as his eyes flicker across your flustered frame. 

“I think we’ve done enough for today.” The statement sounds monotone and gray as it falls from your lips. And even now, you expect a reply. Foolishly so, for Beomgyu merely shrugs, swinging his legs over the mattress as he gets up from your bed. — You don’t dare look up as he rounds your bed, your gaze stays by your discarded laptop. The sounds of his footsteps suddenly vanish and you carefully crank your head in the direction of your door. 

With one hand on the handle, Beomgyu looks back at you, his eyes glimmering with something you can’t quite decipher. His lips twitch into a full smirk, and for a moment, you think he might spit another insult on you. He doesn’t. — “See you in class, yeah?” Is all he says before twisting the doorknob and vanishing down the hall. 

And as the door slams shut behind him, you’re left in an unbearable silence. Carefully you reach for the bracelet, only to find it torn in half.  

⸝⸝

Beomgyu shows up to class after that. It takes you by surprise, and apparently everyone else too as heads turn in his direction when he pulls out the chair next to you. And though his work effort is minimal, he’s still there. You hate the satisfied feeling that blooms in your chest at the accomplishment. And you hate the fact that a small part of you has started looking forward to history class. But you would never tell him that, you would never tell anyone that, not even Taehyun… 

“Come on, it’s just one tiny little essay!” You complain in a distraught tone, dramatically kicking at a few stones on the road in front of you. The small rocks clash together as they roll down the gravel pathway that takes you around campus. — Taehyun squints against the bright sun that shone despite the cold December air. He shakes his head, exhaling a small cloud of condensation.  

“It’s less than fourteen days until Christmas break”, he argues as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of the large coat he wore. “Well that’s exactly why I need your help!” You whine, throwing your frozen hands in the air. — “With everything going on, you know the history project and all, I’m going to seriously flunk French at this point Tae..” You sigh, turning to him with the biggest eyes you could muster as you stick your bottom lip out into a pathetic pout. 

“Please Tae, isn’t that what friends do?” 

Taehyun merely spares you a quick side glance before his focus returns ahead. “You can’t pull the ‘friend card’ whenever you’re falling behind”, he huffs. Biting the inside of your cheek, you think of another way to persuade him. “But if we study together? Then I’m bound to learn!” You suddenly exclaim, causing Taehyun to flinch due to your unanticipated outburst. 

“Fine..” He begrudgingly agrees, though quickly groaning as you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. “I knew I could count on you!” You cheer before carefully letting him go again. — It’s when you pull back that you notice the figure by the benches a few paces away. You frown, gaze narrowing down on its hunched posture. It was odd for any student to be outside between classes during the cold and harsh winter months, let alone sit perched on one of the usual summer hangout spots. 

“Who’s that?” You question, your footsteps coming to an abrupt halt on the rough gravel. Taehyun groans as he turns to see where you might be looking, a small noise of disapproval passing his lips. “No one important, let’s go back inside”, he says as he pulls you along once more. — But in the bright light of the early afternoon-sun, the black hair atop the lonesome shadow’s head seemed awfully familiar. 

“Is that…Beomgyu?” Your inquiry is met by yet another groan from your friend. Taehyun tsk’s as he shoots a sneer in the direction of the lonely figure. “Wouldn’t that be even more reason to go back inside?” — Despite his greatest efforts, you ignore him as you venture off the small path and over the grass. Taehyun calls out for you, conflicted as his gaze flits between you and the entrance not far away. 

With a small roll of your eyes, you stop to wave him over. But Taehyun promptly shakes his head. “Fine, then go on inside, I’ll be right with you”, you say as you readjust the bag on your shoulder. He looks puzzled for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line as he regards you with a concerned frown. “What are you going to do?” He asks, albeit somewhat hesitant. You merely smile, and though it didn’t quite reach your eyes, Taehyun chooses not to pry further when you say: “I’m just going to ask about the project.” — He gives a curt nod before disappearing down the graveled path, hands still stuffed deep in his pockets.

Your footsteps crunch against the frosty grass and they fill the crisp winter air. The closer you get the more certain you become. It was Beomgyu. Sitting on the wooden table, his feet rest on the accompanied bench. He’s not wearing a jacket, only the blazer he had gotten personally tailored. If he was freezing, he didn’t let on to it as he remained still, his eyes focused on the ground below him. 

The real question was, why was he out here alone? Surely he should be spending the lunch break in the cafeteria with his friends, and not on a cold bench outside in the middle of the winter. — You stop in front of him, so close that your worn out shoes break the circuit of his limited vision. He knows that you’re there, you can tell by the subtle twitch of his jaw, and the way his fingers curl against one another as his hands mold together. 

“Hey.” 

You greet him. It’s polite, and when you think about it, you can’t recall ever uttering the word ‘hello’ to him, not for the past two years at least. It takes him a moment to finally look up, and when he does you immediately notice how sunken his eyes are, the almost grayish color of his cheeks and the pink tint to his nose. — He looked like shit. 

Part of you wants to say something about it, to finally jab back at him for all the crude comments he’d made about you. But you can’t. And suddenly, you don’t know what to say at all. Why had you even approached him in the first place? The two of you hadn’t spoken in private since… Well since the bracelet incident. Thankfully he had yet to bring it up again, but you didn’t know if you could trust him not to. It was already awkward between the two of you. 

Had you just made things worse? 

Beomgyu looks too tired to bite back himself as he lets his gaze leisurely drift across your frame. “What are you doing out here?” — Fuck, that wasn’t the question you were supposed to ask. Fucking idiot. But you couldn’t deny the curiosity that lingered around you. What was he doing out here? 

“That’s none of your business.” He spits, lips curling into a small scowl, but you can tell that it’s taking him a great deal of effort. And for some reason, you care. You hate that you do. Because you should feel anything but concern. You should be celebrating his downfall. This was what you had been waiting for. So why did it feel so bittersweet? 

You think it must have something to do with the afternoon spent on your bed. Almost an hour of complete silence, no bickering, no insults thrown. You blame yourself for getting too caught up in the moment. For letting yourself view him in a different light. — You hate Choi Beomgyu. And he hates you. That’s how it was supposed to be. 

When you don’t reply, he lifts his head once more. His eyes are dark, lifeless. He frowns, and for a second he looks almost irritated. “Why do you even care?” He grunts, a flicker of disgust tracing his features, as if the mere thought of sympathy from you was enough to have him gagging. It was nice. It felt familiar. It felt like the Beomgyu you knew. 

“I don’t.” You simply shrug, letting your bag fall from your shoulder as you heave yourself onto the bench next to him. He doesn’t move, but you can feel his gaze on you as he studies you intently. — You don’t dare look at him, instead you keep your eyes set forward. Despite the cold and chilly temperatures, snow had yet to fall. And the naked trees now only looked dystopian as you glance around the campus grounds. 

“Where are your friends?” You suddenly ask, the question coming out light, just like any other. You don’t expect an answer, not from him. In fact you’d prepared yourself for him to get up and leave. But he doesn’t. — Beomgyu is silent for a second, you hear him draw in a slow breath, holding it for a moment before letting go. “What friends?” He then says, and this time he actually sounds tired. 

Your stomach twists in an uncomfortable way, a way that was nowhere near satisfying. “What about the ones from the cafeteri..” — “Don’t be daft”, he cuts you off, his voice gaining a sudden sting. “You’re not stupid. Don’t pretend that you are. It’s unattractive.” He jeers, fingers twisting against one another, as if he was trying to crawl out of his own skin. 

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” He huffs, shuffling to the side as he creates a cold metaphorical wall of distance between the two of you. “To poke fun at me? To shove it in my face?” He sounds almost distressed, and before you can reply, he turns to you. “You think it hasn’t been already?” — For the first time since you approached, he’s looking entirely at you. And when you return his wide gaze, it feels like you’re looking at a shell of who he used to be. 

You tell yourself that it’s the cold air. That it’s the already depressing surroundings of the dying nature around you. But Beomgyu looks just as malnourished as the trees, as pale as the sky and as beat as the frozen grass you walk on. It was easy to take pity on him like that. It was almost like he was begging for it. Begging for someone to sympathize with him. You can’t imagine that anyone ever did. 

“That’s not why I’m here”, and your statement is true. You don’t know why you’d come here, but you knew that it wasn’t out of malice. Because even if you did hate Choi Beomgyu, you don’t think you could ever say it to his face. — He didn’t know that of course. Part of you wished he did. Beomgyu scoffs, his gaze returning to the frosty ground as he bites the inside of his cheek.

You’re scared that you might pity him forever. That things might never change. That the two of you might just be stuck in an eternal loop of hatred and unspoken feelings. — You don’t know what you want, but you know that it is not that. Perhaps this history project was the start you had been looking for. Maybe… 

“Are you free friday?” 

⸝⸝

Your study sessions became regular after that. Beomgyu appeared to have nothing better to do with his time, and to be frank, neither did you. And though you were far from friendly with one another, none of the insults lingered. You studied in silence, him by your desk and you on your bed, as far away from each other as you could get. It was quiet, so quiet that you sometimes forgot that he was even there, save for the occasional sigh or click of his tongue. 

At first, he would bring his phone, checking it every other second, like he hoped for something, for someone, to be there. But after four days, he stopped. And your curiosity only grew. 

Now a mere week remained until christmas break. You and Beomgyu had been studying together for the past six days, without fail. Your presentation was nearly completed, and part of you thinks this might be amongst your last sessions together, if not your very last. — It felt strange, almost melancholic. Would you miss him? Or would you miss the company? Taehyun was your friend, sure, at least that's what you called him. But as soon as the bell rang, as soon as class ended, it was only you again. 

So was it really so wrong to look forward to a bit of company after school? Even if said company was a grumpy and quiet Beomgyu who did his best in ignoring you whilst he was there. Maybe. — Maybe it was the slight urgency of losing the temporary comfort these quiet hours had provided you that led to the act of stupidity you were about to perform next. 

The sun had set hours ago, casting your room in a dim glow provided by the small lamps on your bedside table and desk. You and Beomgyu had been working quietly for the past while. Now that the information was gathered and all that remained was for you to edit the last paragraphs, he used his time to decorate the powerpoint, adding relevant pictures and messing with the fonts. It wasn’t hard work, but the fact that he did something, made your stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way. 

“Are you busy next week?” You wanted to ask him if he would like to practice the presentation together. But Beomgyu kills your last glimmer of hope with a small huff, “Yeah.” He doesn’t turn to look at you, his eyes steadily fixed on the computer screen in front of him despite the fact that he was now only aimlessly flipping through the slides. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refrain from asking if he was busy all week. You would most likely only receive a half-hearted ‘yes’ anyway. Instead your gaze flickers down to your keyboard, your nails quietly tapping against the keys as you think of something to say. Every second spent in his presence only seemed to pull even more questions from your already curious mind. There was so much you wanted to ask him about, even though you knew it wasn’t your place. 

Just let him go. 

You can hear Taehyun’s voice in the back of your head, pleading for you to not pry, to keep your eyes down and mind your business. It wasn’t that easy. He didn’t understand. He didn't know. He didn’t know Beomgyu like you did, like you thought you did. 

“Are you sure you don’t have time to come by and practice?” You can’t stop yourself, the question slips out anyway, and you watch as Beomgyu’s shoulders tense before relaxing again. “I told you I’m busy”, he repeats in the same monotone and tired voice he’d been using for the past week. — “Right…” You hold your tongue, fingers brushing over the keys on your keyboard, hovering above the space button. Your lips part, then they close, and then they part again. 

“Are you meeting Yeonjun?” 

You shouldn’t have asked that, you know it. Yet you did. Perhaps you wanted a reaction from him, perhaps you wanted to hear him raise his voice for the first time in over a week, perhaps you wanted him to get angry, to insult you, because it was the Beomgyu you knew. 

His shoulders go rigid this time, and though you can’t see his expression, you can still catch the twitch of his jaw. He’s stopped swiping through the presentation slides, now stuck on the first one as he gazes ahead. For a minute, everything’s quiet, you think he might not say anything at all. But when he speaks up, he doesn’t raise his voice, instead he lowers it, until it’s nothing but a low drawl of his tongue. 

“You think this is funny?” The cold words send a shiver down your spine, and even though he isn’t looking at you, you felt as if you were being judged under a microscope. “I… I’m sorry..?” You squeak, your voice nearly inaudible but Beomgyu catches it. — He chuckles, pushing his chair back as he turns to you. 

The fiery brown in his eyes is long gone, replaced with an ashy looking color, like he was drained of all life. His lips, usually pulled into either a scowl or a menacing smirk, remain just as unreadable as the rest of his face. — “Do you enjoy this?” He asks, but it hardly sounds like a question. 

You gulp, fingers pressing so hard against the keyboard that you have managed to insert a whole paragraph of nonsense onto the powerpoint. Quietly shaking your head, you think of a way to salvage the toes you’d accidentally stepped on. “No I, I’m sorry…” You swallow once more, “I just…I don’t know what happened between you…I..” 

Beomgyu’s loud scoff cuts you off, and you watch as he gets up from the chair, kicking it back against the desk. With two long strides he reaches you by the edge of the bed. Though he was barely an inch or two taller than yourself, he somehow managed to appear menacing as he loomed over you. “Has it ever crossed your mind that it might not be any of your fucking business?” He says, his tone remaining indifferent as he glares down at you with those empty and dying eyes. 

You bite your tongue, refraining from intervening and saying that practically everyone at school knew it. Though you were sure he already knew that too. — Beomgyu huffs out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “Every single fucking day”, he mutters, his eyes narrowing as they linger by your slightly sheepish expression. “Every day, people like you, stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

The way he spoke, grouping you together with the other students, it shouldn’t have made your chest churn the way it did. “People like me?” You repeat the words, tasting them on your tongue, and finding that you don’t like them. Beomgyu, on the other hand, merely sends you a small look of distaste, the only emotion that had managed to pass his features in a whole week. 

“What? You think you’re something else?” He jeers, frowning when you get up from the bed, straightening your back as you come face to face with him. — “I know I am”, you say, forcing your voice to remain steady. You knew that you weren’t the only one who’s thoughts lingered in the past. You knew that he must still think of the two of you from time to time, even if only for a brief moment. 

Beomgyu finally seems to catch on, his brows rising on his forehead when he does. He looks like he’s about to burst into laughter, you think that he might. “Oh that’s right”, he muses, “You think you’re special because I was nice to you back then, because I took pity on you.” He pushes a strand of dark hair from his face with the help of his pinky, “Bet it was the first time something like that happened.” 

You didn’t want to admit that he was right, that it had been the first time someone had ever gone out of their way for you. That it had been the first time someone had ever gifted you something, apart from your own family, that it was the first time someone willingly sat with you during lunch. But your mind gets caught on that one word he’d used. Pity. 

Was that all it was to him? A game of play-pretend, a chance for him to play hero? You shake your head, it couldn’t be, it wasn’t. — For two years, you had blamed Choi Yeonjun. You had blamed him for taking Beomgyu away from you, for turning him into someone you couldn’t recognize, for ruining your only chance at an actual friendship, perhaps even something else. 

It was easy to blame Yeonjun, you didn't like him, you never had. But you could never bring yourself to actually blame Beomgyu himself, because that would mean he was a bad person, and you didn’t want him to be. You wanted him to remain the perfect version you had created in your head, the version you thought you liked. It became clear now, that he wasn’t. 

“You’re a liar.” 

You state, fingers twitching by your sides as you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. Beomgyu’s expression morphs into one of confusion, then he scoffs. “A liar?” He asks, his voice hollow: “Do you hear yourself talk? You sound fucking crazy.” — “If you think for a second that what we have is different from any other piece of shit person in this school, you’re wrong.” He spits, eyes flaring up for the first time in so long, a small fire igniting within them. 

He continues to list reasons, reasons to hate you, reasons to hate him, reasons to hate everything. You weren't listening. All you see is his eyes, burning with rage, with life. 

It’s unexplainable, the feeling that surged in your chest, that pounds against your ribcage and pulls on your lungs as it sucks the air from them. And you don’t know why you took a step forward, why you let your hands brush against his, why you didn’t stop when you saw the bewilderment on his face. You don’t know why you leaned in closer, when you should be pulling back. — And you don’t know why you couldn’t look away, why you couldn’t tear your gaze from the flames dancing across his eyes. 

You don’t know why you kissed him. 

But you did. 

And now it was too late to ever go back. — Though you're not sure you want to. 

His lips feel soft against yours, not that you had ever stopped to think about how it would ever feel. Yet this somehow seemed right. You don’t open your eyes to look at him, you don’t think you could bear that. Still, you’re surprised when he doesn’t immediately jerk backward, when he doesn’t push you away. — Beomgyu hesitates. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him do.  

The moment lasts forever, and somehow it seems to have vanished within the blink of an eye. The bed squeaks when you crash against the mattress, you can still feel the flat of his palms on your shoulders as the force he’d used to shove you away from him lingered. 

When you peer up at him, you find him already watching you. The flames in his eyes seemed to burn even brighter now. His jaw clenches, fingers curling into fists by his sides as he struggles to keep his composure. — Your lips part, but no words come out. What was there to say? Sorry? But you weren’t. I hate you? But you didn’t. 

Beomgyu speaks before you get the chance to, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. “You’re fucking insane.” It’s all he says, not waiting for a response as he turns back to your desk. He shoves his laptop in his bag with such force that you thought its seams might break.

Then he heads for the door, reaching it in four long strides. He doesn’t turn to look at you, not like he had that day. He rips it open, ignoring the squeaking sound it made when he slammed it shut behind him. 

The silence that follows echoes through your small dorm. And you remain on your bed, motionless, staring ahead as your fingers reach up to touch your lips. — Still burning with the fire he’d igninited. 

⸝⸝

That night was a quiet one, your dorm room basked in the eerie glow of the moon. Nothing but the soft sounds of your hushed sobs filling the confined space. Your pillow is wet, stained with your tears as you cry into the cotton. It was pathetic, really. In fact, you didn’t even know why you were crying. — But as soon as the door had slammed shut, and you had been left alone with nothing but your lingering thoughts, everything had become too much to bear. 

The events of the past few weeks finally catching up to you, breaking the dam of pent of tears you’d been so carefully keeping at bay. It felt as if it would never stop. You didn’t know whether you felt humiliated, rejected or just straight up insulted. Part of you just felt stupid. What the fuck were you even thinking? Kissing him like that. The image itself makes you grimace, and with a heavy sigh you pull yourself into a sitting position. 

After fumbling in the dark for a few moments, your fingers manage to grasp your phone. The bright light of its screen blinds you, and you squint as you scroll through your ridiculously short contact list. — The line rings for almost a whole minute, all the while you anxiously bite on your short nails, chopping the last bits of green polish from your nail beds. And when he finally picks up, it’s silent, save for the deep breaths he emits as he waits for you to speak.

“Taehyun?” 

Your voice comes out a lot more hoarse and strained than you had anticipated, causing you to immediately clear your throat. Taehyun groans, and you hear him shift slightly as he mutters something incoherent. “Do you know what time it is?” He finally asks in a groggy, sleep-laced tone. A spark of guilt blooms in your chest, and you throw a quick glance toward the time on your phone, showing that it was well past midnight. 

“I’m sorry…I just”, you bite your lip, hesitating for a moment. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust Taehyun, it was just different. You and Taehyun were different. Part of you thinks he won’t understand, that he might judge you, no you know he will. Still, he was the only one you could turn to. — “Taehyun, I think I messed up.” 

He doesn’t answer right away, but you know he’s still there. You sit in silence for a while, just listening to his breaths, and for a moment you wonder if he’s fallen back asleep. But then he speaks, this time he sounds more awake. — “How bad?” He asks, and somewhere in the background, you think you can make out a light being flicked on. 

“Really bad..” 

⸝⸝

You had never been to Taehyun’s house before. Two years of so called friendship and you would think that you’d progressed further. But as you heave the last step leading up from the subway, you stop in order to relocate yourself. The neighbourhood looked average, yet inviting. Its quaint little houses, lined up along the dimly lit street, all reflected one another. 

Number 14, that was the one you were looking for. Your worn out sneakers hit the asphalt with heavy thuds, and a small cloud forms when you exhale out into the cold December air. With your fingers stuffed deep in the pockets of your duvet jacket, you make a slight turn, coming face to face with house number 14. 

It looked just like the rest, a small mailbox by the fence gate, its white paint chipped in places. You push it open, stepping up the small graveled path taking you to the doorsteps. Taehyun told you not to ring the bell, but to quietly knock. He didn’t live alone, you knew that much. — He shared the small flat with one of the juniors, you think his name might be Kai. 

You knock once, proceeding to wrap your arms around yourself as you wait anxiously for him to open. It takes him a mere thirty seconds, and when the door swings aside, you're met with the still sleep-laced figure of Kang Taehyun. — He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of checkered sweatpants and a black t-shirt, the glasses he always wore nowhere to be seen. He looked far different like this, it takes you a moment to even recognize him. 

Your silence must’ve been unusual, because he soon cocks an eyebrow, stepping aside as he motions for you to get in.  

Taehyun’s place looks nothing like you’d imagined it. It was far messier. With clothes hanging off the kitchen chairs, lecture material spread over the round table and piles of books crowding the already small countertop. Still, he doesn't seem to mind the slight chaos as he reaches up to fetch two glasses from the cabinet, not saying anything as he fills them both with water from the tap. 

This eternal silence covers you both like a thick blanket, enveloping you in a false sense of ignorance, like the fact that you were currently in his kitchen, at 3am no less, was completely normal. — Taehyun remains quiet as he walks past you and into the joint living room, you trail behind him, eyes lingering on the discarded guitar that rested against the wall. 

The large green sofa takes up a good third of the room, and Taehyun sets your glasses down on the wooden coffee table in front of it as you take a seat. — “Do you play?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, not a ‘Hello, sorry for bothering you so late at night and barging into your home.” But you can’t help yourself, somewhere in the back of your mind, you hear Beomgyu, clearly remembering the day he’d told you about his love for music, no less the guitar. 

But Taehyun merely shrugs, and when he speaks, his voice is groggy. “Kai does.” The statement doesn’t leave room for further questions, and you thought it was probably wise to not bother him with more small talk. 

Reaching for the glass, your fingers wrap around its cold surface as you bring it to your lips. You sip slowly, prolonging the inevitable confession you were to make. And as the refreshing water slides down your incredibly dry throat, you sneak a glance in his direction. It felt odd, seeing Taehyun outside of school like this. 

Your gaze lingers on his bare arms, something his uniform never allowed even as much as a glimpse of. He leans against the soft cushion of the couch, mindlessly fiddling with a small string which you had no idea where he’d gotten it from. — It might’ve been the late hour, or the change of scenery, hell it might’ve even been the fact that you’d probably made the biggest mistake of your life not even eight hours ago. But had Taehyun always looked this… Good wasn’t the right word… At least you didn’t think it was. 

You suppose he looked… Ordinary. He looked far more relaxed than he ever did at campus, in class or in the cafeteria. This Taehyun resembles little of your class president, right now he just looks like, well him. 

“Why are you here?” His sudden question snaps you from your trance and your eyes immediately snap toward the water in your glass, the clear liquid swirling around slowly. Why were you here? Because you were alone, because you were scared, because you didn’t have anyone else to turn to. — “I… I messed up”, your deflated sigh rings out in the living room. 

Taehyun continues to fiddle with the small string, twisting it around his thumb. “The presentation?” He asks, but you can tell that was not what he’d actually meant. Still, you nod. “Well that one too, that’s for sure..” You didn’t even want to think about having to face him next Tuesday, much less going through with that presentation together, in front of everyone. 

“It’s about him, isn’t it?” 

The question was hardly needed, and you mumble out a quiet ‘yes’ as you set your glass down. Taehyun hums, his eyes trained to his hand. You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Biting the inside of your cheek, you inhaled slowly. It was better to get it out right away, wasn’t it? Besides, there was no way you could sugarcoat it, no way for you to lie yourself out of this. You wanted to be honest with Taehyun, because it was easier to be honest with him than with yourself. 

“I kissed him.” 

There. You said it. So why didn’t the lump in your throat ease? Why did your chest still feel tight and your palms sweaty? Why couldn’t it all just go away, you did what you were supposed to, you confessed. Was that not enough? — Taehyun doesn’t look surprised. In fact he looks almost amused. As if he was betting with himself, ultimately ending up winning as you said what he’d already expected you to. 

“I think he hates me even more now. No - I know he does.” You can’t stop the words from flowing, all your pent up emotions rolling off your tongue in one swift motion. “I don’t think he’s ever going to talk to me again. And I’ll probably have to do the presentation alone. But I don’t reckon he’ll tell anybody, I’m sure he’s embarrassed about being associated with me. Fucking entitled asshole.” The last part comes out with slight distaste. 

“Don’t you agree?” You turn to Taehyun who’s been listening quietly. Finally, he glances up from the string he’s fiddling with. He sighs, “I think you should’ve stayed away from him just like I told you to.” — His words made your chest tighten even further, but they were not surprising. You knew what his response would be, you had known before you even picked up the phone to call him. Still, you did it. Because even if he told you what you’d already heard so many times before, it was something, and something was better than nothing. 

“Why did you do it?” You quietly ask him, your question coming out nearly inaudible. “Hm?” His dark eyes, the ones you used to watch behind the thick lens of his glasses, shift over to you. — “Why did you write his essay?” Your sudden change makes him pause, his fingers stilling around the thin thread he’d been twirling for the past minutes. Taehyun looks at you, but you can tell he’s not actually looking at you. 

“What do you mean?” It takes him almost a whole minute to reply. That had never happened before. Holding your tongue, you consider your next words carefully. You’d been wanting to ask him about that day in the hallway for so long now, it had been pestering you for weeks, like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. Because if it was one thing you couldn’t understand, it was why someone like Taehyun, would do something like that, for someone like Beomgyu. 

“Does he have something on you? Is he bullying you?” 

Taehyun shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he discards the thread between his fingers. “No”, he finally states, his voice firm. He was lying. He had to be, right? — “Then why?” You knew you were pushing far, too far, but you wanted, no, needed answers. But he only averts his gaze, his attention fixed on something far ahead. You try to follow his line of sight, your own eyes landing on the crowded bookshelves. 

Books. Your lip twitches at the sight of pages worth of study material. But as you survey the shelves closely, you find that they’re neatly organised, unlike the chaos that spread through the rest of the house. From different subjects, all neatly categorized, yet one book remained alone, separated from the rest. You didn’t recognize its cover. 

“Latin.” 

Taehyun’s thoughts seem to align perfectly with yours as he, too, eyes the lonesome book. “I didn’t know you took latin..” You murmur, still not tearing your gaze from the shelf. Beside you, Taehyun hums before going silent once more. That silence lingers for another thick and heavy minute. The darkness of his living room closing in on you, the sounds of your quiet breaths remaining the only signs of life. 

“Hardly anyone picks latin”, he then adds, nodding toward the book on the very edge of the shelf. You nod, even though you don’t exactly understand where he’s going with this. Taehyun sighs, and he sounds tired, “Picked it ‘cause I felt bad.” — “The professor would hardly have a class to teach this semester if it wasn’t for me.” 

You frown, shifting back to him as your lips part in an unspoken question. But Taehyun doesn’t need to look at you to know what goes on inside your head. — He shrugs, “You asked me why.” 

The silence that follows his last words did not feel as heavy as the others. It merely felt…confusing. Your gaze drops to your hands, placed neatly on your lap. Exhaling through your nose, you begin picking away at your already chipped nail polish, watching as the red flakes fell to your knees. Latin… He picked it out of pity? Not because he enjoyed it but because he felt bad? 

But what did Latin have to do with… 

“Did you want to do it?” Taehyun suddenly asks, and it felt weird, because he hardly asked questions about you, and especially not about Beomgyu. — The lump in your throat bounces back twice as big this time, and your fingers still. “Yes.” If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that. You wanted to kiss Choi Beomgyu, and you had.

“I don’t…” You begin but quickly trail off. Taehyun is patient. He waits for you to continue, he waits for two whole minutes, until finally, you say: “I don’t regret it.” — “And I wish I could tell him that.” 

Taehyun shifts on the green cushion, turning so that he’s now facing you. His gaze isn’t the narrowed and sharp one you’d grown so accustomed to. This one’s gentle, almost soft. — “So why haven’t you?” 

⸝⸝

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

The voice is sharp, and you think you might recognize it. It makes you halt, stopping just as you were about to round the corner taking you to the dormitories. With your back now pressed against the cool wall, you freeze, listening to the conversation taking place. You had mindlessly been returning to the place you called home after a long day of classes, when suddenly two arguing voices caught your attention. 

“My problem?”, Beomgyu spits, his tone harsh and defensive, “Fucking hell man, have you even seen yourself lately?” 

The other voice, which you now recognize as Yeonjun's, cuts back with an equal bite. “Oh come on, just admit that you have something against her. – It’s not like you’ve ever tried to hide it.”

Beomgyu remains quiet, the air feeling dense and heavy with unspoken feelings. “I don’t have anything against her.” He pauses and you wonder what his face might look like right now, furious, deflated? He exhales, “It’s you, okay? You’re the issue here.” 

You could almost hear the surprise as it radiated off of Yeonjun, and you manage to get a glimpse of one of his arms as he shifts on the spot. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He sounds confused, agitated almost. 

“It means..” Beomgyu begins, though quickly cutting himself short as he inhales. “It means you’ve changed, alright. — And I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you but you..” He trails off, the frustration at not being able to say what he wants, what he feels, is palpable and you shift uncomfortably against the wall as you hold your breath. 

Yeonjun scoffs, it sounds almost like laughter. “Oh, so I get a girlfriend and suddenly can’t hang anymore?” — “Yes.” Beomgyu immediately responds. “You and that fucking good for nothing ner-” 

Thud. 

It sounds almost as if one of them had shoved the other against the wall and your eyes widened as you resist the urge to take just a single step forward, to round the corner and see for yourself. — Yeonjun is the first to speak. “You fucking watch your mouth!” He snarls and you can make out Beomgyu’s low groan as he splutters against what you presumed to be Yeonjun’s chokehold on him.

“Or what?” He counters in a strained voice, the teasing edge evident, the one he used to mask how hurt he was.

The sound of Yeonjun’s fist connecting with what could only be Beomgyu’s face echoes through the otherwise empty hallway and your heart drops to your stomach. But Beomgyu merely chuckles. “She ruined everything”, he grumbles, merely adding fuel to the fire. 

“Shut your mouth.” 

Beomgyu snickers, and Yeonjun’s frustration bounces off the walls. You’d heard enough, and you certainly weren’t going to risk staying and ending up in the middle of it. So you turn around, and just as quickly as you had come, you retreat again. 

⸝⸝ 

You nervously pace your room, mumbling the words to yourself over and over, trying your hardest to memorize them. It had dawned on you that you would be doing this alone, and now what remained was to learn everything. But no matter how many times you circled your bed, you always found yourself off track, needing to double check your laptop over and over. 

You were slowly becoming desperate. Nothing seemed to work in your favor. — You curse yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you. For being naive, for thinking that he actually felt something, anything for you. Had you just restrained yourself, had you just held back… You wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

Anxiously gnawing on your nails, your teeth scrape their beds as you re-read the paragraphs written on the powerpoint for the fifthteenth time. The sentences had started to blur, the words merging with one another slowly. — You shake your head, willing yourself to stay focused, to not let your emotions get the better of you, again. 

But then there it is. A loud, almost frantic, knock at your door. — Knock! Knock! 

Your head jerks in its direction, the presentation long forgotten about as your eyes narrow on the dark oak. You throw a glance at the time, 8:29 pm, what could anyone possibly want you at this hour? — But the knocking persists. 

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

It’s loud, flaring like thunder through your dormitory and it makes you jump. Naturally, you do the only thing that comes to mind; you approach, with both curious and wary steps. Your hesitant hand reaches for the handle, the other one twisting the lock as you pull the door open. — The sight that greets you on the other side is nothing you could’ve ever imagined. 

Beomgyu looks even worse than he had a week ago. The bags under his eyes were a permanent look now, dark and sunken in. His long hair falls in uneven sections down the sides of his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead, covered in a sheen layer of sweat. Even his expensive uniform was messed up, tie hanging loosely around his neck and his white shirt torn by the seams. 

You can only make out half his face, the rest shielded by his unkempt and dark hair. But what stood out was the large and angry bruise covering his cheek. Its blue and purple hues were a stark contrast to his honey-like skin. You knew where he’d gotten that. His breaths come out ragged, shallow, like he’d ran here. Perhaps he had. Your lips part, but before you can get the question out, he’s barging inside, slamming the door shut behind him. — “Beomgyu what..” Your words fall short as he pushes his hair from his face, revealing his dark eyes to you. 

They were burning with the same fire they had been that night, the night you kissed him. The flames dance across his bottomless irises. You think that if you got too close, you’d end up burning yourself. Another part of you thinks it’s too late to take cover. That you had already walked inside and sealed the door shut behind you, and now you would burn with him. 

He takes a step forward, the fire drawing in closer and you squint against its flames. His chest heaves, it clouds your narrowed vision as he backs you up against the nearest wall. Something had happened, something had made him like this, because this was not the Beomgyu you knew. The Beomgyu you knew would be repulsed to even as much as near you, to even breathe the same circuit of air as you. 

He is not the Beomgyu you know. Because the Beomgyu you know would never kiss you. 

But this one does, and it’s without hesitating that his hands reach for your face, cupping both cheeks in his blazing hot palms as he brings your face to his. — Your eyes widen, alarm bells going off in your mind, screaming for you to push him back, to demand answers from him. So why don’t you? Why do you let him kiss you, why do you let him toy with you like this? 

Beomgyu did not like you. He hated you. That was a fact. Not because he’d said so himself, or because he treated you like he did. But because it was the reality you had been feeding yourself for so long. It put you at ease, knowing that he hated you, because if he did, then he at least felt something for you. You weren’t just another face in the halls, your time together wasn’t just a figment of his or your imagination, it had been real. The two of you were real, and the resentment and hate was a confirmation of just that. 

So when his lips press against yours, warm and wet, his tongue slips inside your mouth without waiting to hear your startled yelp.. The reality you had built for yourself suddenly starts to crumble. Everything was wrong, this was not how it was supposed to be. — You had allowed yourself a slip up last week, a moment of weakness. You had kissed him. For a brief, short and awfully painful moment you had let your own desires consume you. And you had paid the price. 

This time Beomgyu was acting on his desires, not yours. And that scared you. 

His chest is flush against yours, his grip on your face unwavering as he forces your lips to meet in a searing kiss. You don’t understand. You thought you had him all figured out, this wasn’t supposed to happen, why is he… — “Beomgyu, stop!” Your nails dig into his shoulders, tearing him off of you with all your might. He separates from you, if only an inch, the kiss coming to an abrupt stop as you’re left panting. 

His lips are coated in saliva, a small string connecting the two of you before it breaks just a second later. You barely recognize him. “What’s going on?” The question is accusing, your voice laced with confusion and anger. 

Beomgyu remains silent, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he exhales a final heavy breath. His jaw clenches when he swallows, and his dark eyes flicker down to your lips once more. — “Shut up.” It’s all he says, but there’s no malice in the way he does. It sounds almost like a plea. And the fire within his eyes seems to burn even brighter as his gaze meets yours. “Please just shut up.” 

You did not want to shut up. You wanted to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. You wanted to show him just how it felt when he rejected you just days prior. You wanted to tell him that he was ‘fucking insane’ and slam the door shut in his own face. — You did none of that. 

The next kiss is initiated by you, not him. It’s soft, and it reminds you of the one you’d given him last week. Slow, hesitant, but tender. And Beomgyu’s hands reluctantly drop from your face, gently sliding down your arms and sides before settling on your waist. — You had known for a long time now that you felt empathy for him. That you pitied him. Perhaps it was why you let him use you. 

Tomorrow he would not speak of this. He would act as if it never happened, he would bury it as deep as he could. He might think that this is his only solution today, that this will be his solace for whatever might’ve set him off. But it isn’t, and when this night morphs into dawn, he will realize that. — You don’t want him to. 

You should tell him to stop right now. He’ll only end up hurting you, not that he cares, he never had. But you, you should care. So why don’t you? 

Your fingers tug his already loose tie off, letting it slip from his neck before you work on his shirt, hastily unbuttoning it. Beomgyu follows in your tracks, letting you shrug the torn garment from his shoulders before he reaches for the pajama pants you wore. — You stop him, your hand on his wrist. “On the bed, please”, you whisper against his lips. 

His nod is barely noticeable before he hoists you into his arms. The sudden action startles you and you cling to him in shock as he gently places you down onto the mattress. He just about bothers to shove your laptop to the floor, muttering something incoherent about being able to get you a new one if it broke. You can’t find it in you to care, not when he climbs on top of you, the bed squeaking beneath his weight as he does. 

You feel warm, fuzzy, intoxicated even. Bleary eyes finding his as he hurriedly presses his lips against yours again. It was almost as if he was trying to drown out whatever thoughts plagued his mind as his hands grabbed at whatever part of you he could access. — His fingers hook around the waistline of your pajama pants, attempting to tug them off once more, and this time he succeeds. 

The air of your dormitory is cool against your naked skin, causing goosebumps to flare across it as Beomgyu slides your clothes down your body. He was moving fast, almost too fast. For some reason you let him, even though you know you probably shouldn’t. He was being selfish right now, wasn’t he? Using you like this, only to quiet his own worries, to soothe his own pain. He didn’t care for your feelings and he never would, not even now as his hands hover above your panties, fingers tracing their lining with eagerness. 

Or perhaps you were the selfish one? He clearly wasn’t thinking straight. The Beomgyu you knew would never stoop to this level, he would never go for someone like you, and you would never allow it.. Right? — Were you selfish for using him in this state, for egging him on even when you knew that the two of you were to regret this in the morning? 

Maybe. 

You don’t care. 

His fingers slide beneath the fabric of your pantines, running between your folds, circling your clit once as he pulls a shaky gasp from you. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the skin there, leaving crescent like shapes in their wake. — He doesn’t wait, doesn’t drag the process out. You can tell that his mind is set on one thing. That’s okay, so were yours. Right? 

You cry out when he pushes two fingers inside of your aching cunt, curling them meticulously as his lips trail down your jaw. Your hips arch off the bed, meeting his movements as you wordlessly beg for more. — “Beomgyu, we… we should..” You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, the feelings swirling within your chest were difficult to convey. 

But he won’t have a word of it. “Shut up”, he grunts, the palm of his free hand pressing against your pelvis as he shoves you back against the mattress. He’s rough, surprisingly so. You’d always taken him for a little bitch. But his strength startles you, as well as sending a shot of heat through your stomach, making you clench around his fingers. 

If he notices it, he doesn’t bother to comment, which is unusual for him. Something bad must’ve happened, that’s all you can think. Something so bad had happened that his only resolve was you. The thought of him using you to get over whatever had hurt, it should upset you. It should make you feel small and insignificant, but it never did. 

Beomgyu tugs your panties down, throwing them over his shoulder as he parts your already spread legs. — Your hands glide over the apex of his shoulders, and you blink up at him expectantly. He doesn’t return your gaze. That hurt. 

Instead he focuses on the zipper of his uniform pants, undoing it with a harsh tug before slipping hand down his pants. His low groan pierces the thick and hot air, the sound is one so sinful, one you could have never imagined coming from his lips. — Your eyes dart down to his cock when he pulls it free, tongue subconsciously darting out to wet your lips as you regard the way he languidly strokes himself.

“Touch yourself”, he says, his voice low and gruff as he eyes your dripping cunt. — Surprised, you hesitantly comply as you reach a hand down between your thighs, fingers experimentally dragging across your core. The small moan that slips off your tongue makes your face heat up as you avoid his gaze. 

You push two fingers inside of your pleading cunt, not even bothering to put on a show for him as you let yourself become immersed in how it feels, how good it feels. In fact everything felt good, a little too good, when you know it shouldn’t. — You watch him through the corner of your eye, catching the bead of precum that slid down his veiny shaft. And your stomach flutters uncontrollably when he squeezes around himself, letting his head tip back with a strained moan.

When he’s evidently had enough, he pushes your hand away, ignoring your cries as you lose any semblance of pleasure. Though your loss is soon replaced by the head of his cock as he slides it between your folds. It bumps against your clit, making you shudder as your fingers twist in the bed sheets. — Your lips part, but Beomgyu’s hand covers them again. 

“Don’t.” He grunts, his attention focused on the way his thick cock gently eases itself inside your warm cunt. Your eyes widen, a small and muffled noise of pleasure leaving you as you squirm beneath him. — “Don’t say anything”, he nearly pleads, his dark and burning gaze flickering to your face for a brief moment. 

Your chest contracts, you didn’t understand.. Yet you complied, sealing your lips off to anything that wasn’t a cry or a moan. — Beomgyu’s pace is rough, leaving no room for you to argue as he snaps his hips against yours. The bed frame rattles against your wall, and you briefly worried that the sound would carry into the next room. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to care. 

His hand slides off of your lips, resting on the mattress just inches from your face as he hovers above you. — Stifling a small whimper, you reach up to touch him, any part of him that you could. This was your chance, no? 

You can feel every twitch of muscle as you drag your fingertips along his arms, letting your hands glide across his tense shoulders. Beomgyu shudders when you reach the nape of his neck. — He complies when you pull him down for another kiss. This one starts out slower, but quickly morphs into something that could easily match the pace he was keeping. His teeth pull your bottom lip into his mouth, biting down with a force that startles you, a surprised moan ripping from your throat. 

He made you feel nearly delirious, like you didn’t exist, nothing felt real. But at the same time, you could feel everything at once. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been to you. Not even back then, back when you considered him your friend. Not even then did it feel like this.. Raw, scorching hot, burning and most importantly, alive. 

Your chest is already hurting, already mourning the loss of him that was to come. Why couldn’t you just allow yourself to live in the moment, to give in to your desires completely, even if they were beyond what you knew to be possible. This was real, he was here, with you. For now, for tonight, everything was different, and you should let it be just that. 

“I love you.” 

The confession slips past your lips. It carries out into the dim room, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears and pounding against your ribcage. Beomgyu stills inside of you, his dark eyes immediately landing on yours as they narrow. — Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that. Did you even mean it? Or had you let your flimsy emotions get the better of you once again. 

But this wasn’t just a small peck on the lips. Something you could pull back from, something you could wipe off your mouth and forget about. This was you baring your heart to him. This was you showing your most vulnerable self. — This was you being selfish. 

Beomgyu’s face twists into a scowl, the way it did whenever he tried to mask how hurt he was. Because that’s what he was tonight. Hurt. It’s why he’d come here. To use you. To let himself forget. He’d begged you to be quiet. — And you had done the exact opposite. 

“You don’t.” His statement is cold, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “You don’t know what you’re saying”, he grunts. And his expression hardens when you insistently shake your head. 

“I do”, your lips press into a thin line, determination flickering across your features. That was a lie. You did not know if you loved him. But you knew that you pitied him, that your heart ached for him. It was like every punch to his gut went straight to your heart. — Perhaps the hurt was so strong that you had confused it with love. Maybe your empathy for him got mistaken for real feelings in your mind.  

How should you know? It wasn’t like you’d ever felt it before. 

And he hadn’t either. You were sure of it. 

“I know what I’m..” — “I said you don’t know anything!” Beomgyu’s voice cuts you off, it sounds like a scream. Ear-piercing and deafening. Beomgyu was yelling at you. And it scared you. 

He shifts above you, elbows digging into the mattress and you suddenly remember that his throbbing cock is nestled within your cunt. You think he might pull back, that he will get up and leave. That’s what he should do. But he doesn’t. — Instead he jolts back into action, snapping his hips against yours with newfound force, his jaw clenching as his dark eyes bore into you. 

“You’re confused”, he jeers, and you choke back a wanton moan when his thumb circles your clit. “Lot of girls get confused when they’re stuffed with cock”, he scoffs, “And you’re no different.” — Beomgyu was back to his old self, the cruel and menacing one. The Beomgyu that fronted whenever he tried to hide his true feelings, when the real him was feeling weak. You should’ve seen it coming, really. But his words still hurt, they always did. 

He rams himself into you, making your thighs quiver as they meekly wrap around his chest, drawing him even closer. You screw your eyes shut, not wanting to see him for as much as another second. He doesn’t seem to care, in fact he hardly seems to care about anything at the very moment. 

His fingers are harsh against your clit as he drinks in every moan you emit. And when you finally finish around his cock, your cunt fluttering around him, he doesn’t say anything. You pant, still refusing to look at him as you catch your breath. His thick cock makes you wince as it continues to push into you with demand. 

Beomgyu pulls out wordlessly. Hissing out into the quiet air as he cums all over your spread thighs, his sharp intake of air pounding in your ears. His release is warm, a sickening contrast to the cold sweats that had broken out on your body. It nearly makes you shiver. 

A new kind of silence follows after that. One full of knowing. Because you both knew that what had transpired tonight, was not something you would ever talk about again. The unanswered questions would never be brought to discussion. And you were supposed to be okay with that. You were supposed to be okay with this. 

You don’t know if you ever will be. 

⸝⸝ 

The bed was empty that following morning. The only trace of Beomgyu were the rustled sheets where he’d slept. And you spent nearly an hour tracing their patterns with the tips of your fingers, following every crease of duvet carefully as you memorized the shape of him. 

You knew that this was how it was going to end, as nothing more but yet another mistake. Another reason for him to hate you, and you him. Which is why you shouldn’t feel this melancholic. He sure as hell wasn’t. So why should you suffer? Yet it takes everything in you to drag yourself out of bed that day. 

The water is scorching hot against your skin, and you lean against the cool tiles as you close your eyes. But no matter how hard you scrubbed, how many layers of soap you covered yourself beneath. The feeling of his hands never went away. You almost thought you could see them, the faint outlines of his hands, all over your body. And as soon as you let your mind wander, even for just a second, you could feel him on you again. 

With a shudder you shake your head, promptly turning the water from flaming hot to an icy cold. The warmth reminded you of him, of the fire in his eyes and the burn of his touch. Cold water did not remind you of anything, that was better. 

Part of you had thought, almost hoped, that he would come to you, that he would beg of you to keep quiet, to not utter a single word about the night that had been. But he never did. Presentation day comes, and it passes again. It wasn’t very dramatic, in fact, it was like nothing had changed at all. 

Beomgyu showed up. He didn’t look you in the eyes when he took his papers from you. He didn’t look at you during the presentation, he kept his gaze ahead, fixated on the rest of your joint classes. He didn’t speak to you before, during, or after it. Not even a simple, ‘well done’ or even a ‘thanks’ when you’d offered to take his papers and throw them away for him. 

His indifference hurt the most. Perhaps the night had meant nothing to him. It had been just as you suspected, a way for him to forget. Forget whatever it was that had happened with Yeonjun that afternoon. — It had worked. Beomgyu seemed to have forgotten, but you remembered, you remembered far too much. 

Winter break began a mere three days later. 

A different kind of excitement lingered in the air. No matter how old you got, the joy of Christmas never seemed to dull people’s spirits. Almost three weeks to spend with family and friends, three weeks away from the tortuous hell that was college. Except you would stay right where you were. 

This would be the third Christmas you spent on campus. And while the school offered the remaining students to gather in the cafeteria for present unwrapping and long movie marathons, it was never the same as the warm embrace of home. — But home has long since lost its meaning to you. And Christmas no longer felt like a holiday. 

Taehyun had left as well, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts to reconcile with. Suppose it was during the holidays you realized just how lonely you were. That hurt, of course. — You would spend your days doing mundane things, like reading, writing, drawing… Anything to get your mind off of the almost depressing reality you faced. It usually only worked for an hour or so. It was like a constant loop of distraction, one where you chased the comfort that slowly slipped from your fingers. 

But you were tired of chasing. 

⸝⸝

Your worn out sneakers make an awful squeaking noise against the polished floors and the sound rings in your ears. It’s all you can hear, which serves to quiet your thoughts for a moment, proving to be quite the distraction. 

The long hallways are eerily empty and quiet, it gives them an almost uncanny feeling. Campus no longer felt like campus, more like a shell of its former self. You knew that it would change as soon as break was over of course, but for now you were forced to make your way down the vacant halls all alone in order to get to the cafeteria and have dinner. 

It was for these exact reasons that the sudden tap to your shoulder made your heart drop. 

With a quick spin of your heel, you come face to face with the person you’d least expected to see. — His dark hair is nicely done, and his eyes glimmer with a kindness that two months ago would have had you doing a double take. Snow had melted on the shoulders of his jacket, and the tip of his nose was a bright red. An almost gentle smile is splayed across his rosy lips, and he gives a nervous chuckle. You almost didn’t recognize Choi Yeonjun. 

“Hey uh..” He scratches the back of his neck rather awkwardly, his eyes darting around the empty hallway. “You don’t happen to know if there’s someone with keys to classroom 017? - My girl forgot one of her books in there before the break you see..”  — You remain silent. You don’t think you’d ever had a decent conversation with Yeonjun, ever. It had all been mean and crude comments, nasty smirks and awfully childish pranks where you became a laughing stock. 

So to say that it felt a little weird to be approached by him like this, well that would certainly classify as an understatement. Your first instinct was to walk away, to leave him hanging like he deserved or perhaps you should belittle him on his obliviousness, did he not know all keys were held in the lobby? You refused an eye roll. — For the first time since your night with Beomgyu, a different kind of emotion blossoms within your chest. 

Anger. 

Your mind easily recognizes Yeonjun as the one who’d taken Beomgyu from you two years ago. It was him who you’d blamed for the way Beomgyu turned out, it was him who was at fault. It was him… He… 

You swallow, giving him a small nod, “Think there should be someone up by the lobby.” The polite words sting on your tongue, your fingers itching as they clenched and unclened. Yeonjun on the other hand, smiles, his grin stretching wide as he thanks you. What had changed? 

“I best head there then.” With his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jeans, he turns and begins his journey down the lifeless corridor. You watch him, eyes trailing over his figure for a moment before you call out. — “Hey, wait!” 

He pauses, turning back to you with raised brows. You march forward without giving yourself the chance to think it over once more. The sounds of you sneakers squeaking against the floors becomes almost deafening but you disregard it as you come to a halt before him. Straightening yourself up, you hold his confused but intrigued gaze. 

“You were friends with Beomgyu, right?” It wasn’t a question, but you phrased it like one anyway. The smile immediately falls from his face upon hearing your words, and for a split second, the old Yeonjun, the face you recognized in the halls fronted. His lips twist into a small scowl and his dark brows furrow. “What’s it to you?” His voice had grown sharp, almost snappy, perhaps you’d hit a sore spot. 

Something had happened. 

Yeonjun studies you for a moment longer, his brown eyes drinking in your frame. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, and he looks almost thoughtful. Then he huffs a short breath, it sounded almost like a laugh. — “Oh, yeah that’s right. I know who you are.” He stated it like it was an insult, like your name weighed heavy, and for all the wrong reasons. 

You can feel the confusion evolve on your face, he can too. “Why, I bet he’s told you everything. Bet he came running to you like a bitch.” Yeonjun’s menacing sneer is far from unfamiliar and your chest twists at his words. What was that supposed to mean? — “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was true. You had no idea what had happened between the two of them. 

It’s silent for a moment, and Yeonjun studies you closely, as if searching for lies. When he finds none his shoulders visibly relax. He lets out a short breath, averting his gaze, as if the confrontation of the subject made him uncomfortable. — “He’s an immature bitch, what do you want me to say?” He doesn’t hesitate as his eyes snap back to you, this time with something akin to fury. 

“Couldn’t accept my girl so why should I accept him. – But come on now, he’s told you that already.” 

You don’t answer. Your fingers nervously fiddles with one another as your hands rest by your sides. What was he talking about? What was there for you to know. — Your silence seems to make the pieces fall together in his mind, finally assembling a large puzzle and Yeonjun’s face lights up. “Oh shit”, he huffs, “He hasn’t told you anything at all.” It’s a statement, one that makes your heart drop. 

He runs a hand through his dark hair, a near sinister grin playing on his lips. “Fucking hell.” — He glances down the hall, which was ironic considering how blatantly vacant it was, then he turns back to you. “I thought– I mean I”, interrupting himself only to clear his throat, Yeonjun looks to be fighting back yet another laugh. “I mean I thought you guys were…” 

Shaking his head, he drags the flat of his palm across half his face. “Fuck, I guess not. That’s sad. Really.” — You want to object, tell him that whatever assumption he was currently making was wrong. You wanted to tell him that you and Beomgyu were exactly that. But that would be a lie. And you’d had enough of those. 

“Do you not miss him?” 

The question takes him by surprise, and Yeonjun pauses as he glances back at you. For a moment he looks offended, taken aback by your bluntness. His lips curl into a small scowl, the one he used to wear in the halls, not anymore though, now it was reserved for only one person, Beomgyu. — “Don’t think that’s any of your business, no? – I mean you guys aren’t even..” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a disappointing manner. 

“Just stay in your own lane”, he then adds, giving you a quick one over. “You’re better off without him anyway. – He’ll only bring you down with him.” 

Without another word, Yeonjun walks away. And you don’t stop him. For some reason, his words hurt. They were never directly targeted your way, so why did it hurt to hear him talk bad about Beomgyu? — Why did you feel the need to take on his pain as well, why did you feel the need to carry a burden that was never yours. 

The walk to the cafeteria feels even heavier than usual, and you barely get any food down that evening. 

⸝⸝

The days sort of blend together when you have nothing to do. They’re rolling on a loop, one after the other, and each one would follow the same mundane pattern. With only a day to spare before Christmas, you finally drag yourself off campus grounds, determined to at least make an attempt at lifting your spirits. 

Stores are beyond crowded, and you get shoved left and right as you swim your way through the large masses. God, had none of these people done their Christmas shopping with at least a little margin? — Supposedly not. 

You didn’t know what you wanted, hardly anything seemed to catch your eye. Still, you scour the near empty racks, even when nothing appeals. A small cry to your right diverts your attention in said direction where a young girl clings to her mom. — “I want this one!” She whines, her tiny feet stomping against the hard ground. Her mom sighs but eventually complies, shoving yet another toy in their already full cart. She looked exhausted.   

Your gaze lingers on the tired moms who rushed about with bags stuffed full, on the dads who checked off lists, on the workers who wiped sweat from their forehead as they tried to get through the long line of customers waiting to pay. 

All this commotion for a single day of the year. As much as the thought itself made you want to snort, there was also an undeniable sense of longing that filled your chest. You, too, wanted to rush about, you wanted to have to worry about what to get people for Christmas. You wanted to stay up late and wrap presents, you wanted to see the joy on their faces, hear their laughs. 

You didn't want to be alone. 

Walking was nice. But it becomes tiresome after a while. With your coat wrapped snugly around your body, you stroll the campus grounds absentmindedly. The cold air made your nose freeze and your cheeks sting, but you refused to return to your dorm just yet. There was something so comforting about being swallowed by the shivers running down your spine, or perhaps it was just numbing, like medicine, only it would never cure you. 

The frosty grass crunches beneath the sole of your shoes, and you trudge forward with heavy steps. There was but a thin and crisp layer of snow, one that could be erased with the swipe of your foot. So much for a white Christmas, you thought with a bitter scoff. — Your fingers are on the verge of falling off, but you clutch the small bag in your hand anyway, swinging it back and forth in tune with your casual strides. 

You pass a most familiar bench, now coated in a thin blanket of white but undoubtedly the same. Without thinking twice you come to a halt, feet melting into the ground as they force you in place. Furrowed brows press against your narrowed eyes as you peer over at the very same spot where you had seen Beomgyu sitting not long ago, all by himself. 

Everything seemed to remind you of him, even when all you wanted was to forget his mere existence. You look away, blinking the hurt from your eyes as you glance toward the entrance leading back inside, leading to warmth and to safety. You should go, you should go there now. But it’s impossible to get yourself to move forward, your legs refuse to carry you and you feel your knees buckle. 

With one harsh shake of your head you pull yourself from the small trance. And finally you move, but it is not the entrance you approach. — The old bench squeaks under your weight, and with the help of a gloved hand you dust the worst snow off. 

Sigh. Everything looked different now, yet it was as though nothing had changed. You close your eyes, and for a second you could almost imagine him as he sat beside you, sharing a laugh and perhaps even melting the cold away with your hand in his. The image pains you just as much as it warms you. 

Had it not been for the cold, the moment out on the bench might have even been tranquil. But the harsh winds soared through your body, chilling you to your core as it forced you to huddle in on yourself. You suck in a sharp breath, the cold air slicing down your throat as you force your almost numb lips together. 

Arms wrapped around yourself and fingers digging into your forearms, you’re so busy keeping the cold out that it takes you almost a whole minute to recognize the soft patter of frozen grass crunching beneath feet. But when the sound does reach your ears, your head jerks in its direction. 

There, on the other side of the once grassy field, without as much as a uniform or school bag in sight, is Beomgyu. You’re taken aback by his casual appearance, much so that you almost completely disregard his even more unusual visit. But only almost. — What was he doing here? He had a lot of people to spend Christmas with, no? What business did he have on campus? 

You shift on the old bench, the squeaking noise of the wood however, catches his attention. You swallow when his dark eyes find yours, even from across the field. For a split second you think that he might just keep on walking, to continue his act of nonchalance, as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you, and that you were crazy for even suggesting such a thing. 

But Beomgyu’s gaze doesn’t harden, nor does it lessen. In fact his expression remains completely impassive, though his actions speak for him. He puts one foot before the other, and it’s not until he’s gotten about halfway across the field that you realize where he’s headed. Your stomach drops as you watch him push his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slumped as he approaches. Your gaze flickers to the bag in your hands, swallowing nervously as you tune in to the sound of his footsteps nearing. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything when he sits down beside you, and you listen to the squeaking noise the bench makes in protest to yet another element of weight. You peer at him through the corner of your eye. His hair was shorter, the dark strands no longer reached the nape of his neck but stopped just below his ear. Even the bruise on his face had begun to fade, now it was a mere light purple, with splotches of red coating its edges. Lastly, the tip of his nose, which was an uncharacteristic shade of pink, one you found to be almost endearing. 

Your attention travels to the clothes he wore, the jacket looked expensive, undoubtedly more than you could afford even if you saved all your money’s worth. Funnily enough, he doesn’t seem to care for it as his fingers lazily pick at its seams. Beomgyu took a lot of things for granted, you could tell. — Things you could only dream about. 

The silence surrounding you is thick, hugging you tight and keeping you from moving. Your lips part as you attempt to break said silence, despite how dry your throat feels. Beomgyu however, is quicker than you as he heaves a sigh. 

“Why are you out here?” He asks, his gaze still fixed far ahead as his fingers give his jacket a small break. You had expected a ‘hello’ perhaps even a ‘how are you?’, maybe you would even have been content with a sharp glare or a ‘fuck off’. But Beomgyu leads the conversation in a completely different direction. 

When your silence becomes deafening he turns to you. His eyes are filled with something you can’t quite place, something unlike his usual self. He searches your face, as though looking for clues with the help of a magnifying glass. “It’s cold”, he then adds, as if the obvious could not have been made any clearer. 

You scoff, shaking your head as you fiddle with the bag in your hands. “I’m dressed for it”, you mutter without looking at him. Beomgyu hums, and for a second it sounds as though he’s about to say something else, only to stop himself. — The thick silence returns, this time it feels almost claustrophobic. You wanted to ask him about that night, you wanted to ask him about Yeonjun, you wanted to ask him about the two of you, you wanted to ask him…

“Why are you out here?” Your quiet whisper is nearly swallowed by the whirling wind but Beomgyu manages to catch it as his attention jumps from the naked trees and back to you. There were a thousand thoughts swimming within his eyes, things that were just waiting to be said. So why didn’t he? 

“It’s Christmas”, you add, watching as his lip twitches in amusement. — You could not remember the last time you’d made Beomgyu laugh. He shakes his head, tongue prodding against his cheek. “It is”, he nods in agreement, his gaze dropping to the bag clutched in your hands. “Present?” He asks to which you slowly nod. 

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you exhale a deflated sigh, “A stupid one.” You didn’t want to admit that you had bought it for yourself, considering the fact that it would be the only gift you were to receive this year, again. It’s quiet after that and you desperately hoped he would drop the subject again. 

Beomgyu shrugs, “Isn’t that the whole point of Christmas?” When you only frown, he continues, “I mean, wrapping things up and giving them away.” He scoffs as he runs a hand through his dark hair, “Using gifts as condolences, it’s quite materialistic don’t you think?” 

You wanted to argue that it was not, but as your gaze flickers over the expensive clothes he wore, you realized that he didn't seem even a tad grateful for them. Perhaps they had been just that, condolences. — Your thoughts are interrupted by Beomgyu as he shifts on the bench and his hand reaches into the pocket of his coat. 

“I’m not much better”, he murmurs when pulling out a small box. It fit perfectly in his palm, enveloped in silver wrapping with a tiny bow on top. You eye the tiny present with intrigue, your stomach flipping at the sight. — He inhales sharply as he twists the box between his fingers. “Reflecting, repenting all that bullshit..” He mumbles as his brown eyes meet yours, “Suppose that’s what I’m trying to do here.”

Confused, you open your mouth to speak but before you can get as much as a word out, he hands you the gift. His eyes look near pleading as he silently begs for you to accept it, as if it would mean you accepted his apology. Perhaps it would take the guilt off his shoulders if you did. — The frown on your face only grows, but you set your own bag down before reaching a hesitant hand out to grasp the present. 

It feels light in your palm, almost weightless. “Open it”, Beomgyu encourages beside you, his warm breath ghosts across your cheek and you hadn’t even realized just how close he was. — Shrugging your mitten off, your free hand carefully plucks the lid from its container. You can feel his gaze on you, watching intently as you gently tug the rustling paper aside. 

Your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen tenfold when they fall on the familiar piece of leather. It was the same warm brown, and the contrastingly dark navy blue. The bracelet which you had cherished for so long, the one you had clung onto in the hopes that his matching part would still exist somewhere. 

“I…” You breathlessly begin but Beomgyu quickly cuts you off. “I.. I’m sorry, yeah, that’s what I was…”, he trails off, shrugging as he averts his gaze sheepishly. It’s weird to see him like that, it reminds you of a time long ago, a time before everything. 

The reality of his words slowly sank in, Beomgyu was apologizing. 

You had spent countless sleepless nights, tossing and turning in bed as you prayed and hoped for a time like this. Was it selfish for you to wish for things to be the way they had been? You wanted to bring back someone who no longer existed, a version of him that was but a mere memory, remembered and kept alive only by you. 

Yet here he is, doing just as you had hoped, and for so long. But you hate Choi Beomgyu now. That was a fact. And he hated you too. So this didn’t make sense, no, it wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be apologizing. He should have brushed it off, acted as if nothing had ever happened and given you a shoulder cold enough to bring back the ice age. 

“This is wrong.. — I mean, you can’t just-” Biting back a frustrated groan, you twist uncomfortably in your seat as you avoid his reluctant gaze. You can sense his confusion, and it only fuels your frustration. Did he not understand that he couldn’t just undo everything with a simple ‘sorry’ and a gift. 

Beomgyu swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing against his throat. “What?” He asks, his gaze dropping to the untouched gift still in your hands, “Do you not like it? — I can get you something else.” 

You shake your head, “It’s not about the gift, Beomgyu.” — He frowns, “Then what is it?” 

“Everything.” 

You’re looking at him now, your heart hammering in your chest as you fight your nerves. “It’s everything, okay? You, me–” You motion between the two of you, “Yeonjun, the presentation, us.” It wasn’t just something you drew a line over, something you blurred and pushed back in the depths of your mind as you tried to forget it. 

“But, why does any of that matter?” He wonders with a confused frown, his bottom lip slightly jutted out as he regards you with caution. You have to hold back a scoff, your fingers curl around the small box, knuckles turning white as you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Because it does! You might not get that, but it hurt me.” 

Beomgyu groans as he runs a hand through his short hair. “Fuck, I already apologized what more do you want from me?” His anger matches yours in a way that instantly reminds you of just how bad you could be together, of how deeply he made you feel. — “What difference does it make?” You snap, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. 

“Everything.” 

“It changes everything, alright?” His chest heaves when he exhales, his eyes flaring with the same fire they had that night, the night when he wasn’t thinking straight. He probably wasn’t right now either. — “Because”, he swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he regains his composure. “Because I don’t know how else to change things.” 

He drags a hand across his face, like he didn’t know what else to do with himself. “You act like I’m the biggest asshole to walk this earth and next thing I know you’re kissing me. It confuses me and it angers me. But even when you’re mean you’re nice, and I hate how it makes me feel. — I hate that it’s you I want to go to when shit goes wrong, and I hate that I did. I hate how you let me use you that night.” 

He’s barely taking breaks to breathe in between sentences, and you catch the subtle flush to his cheeks as he speaks. “I fucking hate the fact that you’re always on my mind, much more do I hate that I never even try to will those thoughts away.” Beomgyu bites his bottom lip, chewing on it for a good five seconds before letting it go as he sneaks a glance your way. “But I…” He sighs as he finally comes to a conclusion after his long battle with himself. — “I don’t hate you. I want to, but I can’t” 

You swallow, your hand still hugged by the mitten feels clammy and sweaty. Your heart races and your mind jumps between his jumbled words with little coherence. You don’t think you’d ever heard him say so many things at once, and certainly not like that. His usual mean and crude self had completely drained from his system and left was a shell of the Beomgyu you thought you knew. 

It was then, you think, that you realized Choi Beomgyu wasn’t so different from you after all. Your gaze drops to the small gift still in your hands. What had once weighed so little now felt heavy in your grasp, like you were holding all of him, all at once. The bracelet fills you with hope, something you’d long since given up on entirely. 

You glance toward him. His jaw is clenched tightly as his narrowed eyes peer ahead, intent on avoiding you it seemed. His apology was complete and total shit, his reasoning even worse. But Beomgyu was quite shit at most things. So were you. — Your gaze lingers on his pink nose, bitten by the cold. Your own nose stings too, for the both of you had been out here far too long. 

In the pale winter air it became clear. Beomgyu was lonely, just as lonely as you. The slump of his shoulders and the defeated look on his face surely matched your own. You imagine how the two of you must look from afar. It would have to be quite a pitiful sight. How could one be lonely in the presence of someone else? Only two jackasses must manage something like that. 

But you didn’t want to be a jackass anymore, and neither did he. — So you shift on the bench, ignoring the squeaking noise it makes as you turn to Beomgyu. “Do you want to watch a movie?” 

⸝⸝

It’s awkward at first. 

The soft rustle of bed sheets, the untouched bowl of popcorn between you, the flimmer coming from the Tv screen as a cheesy romcom movie plays. Beomgyu, who was usually more than at home in your dorm, was now stiffly sitting on his side of the bed, his back straight as he pressed against the headboard. He appeared almost nervous. 

You weren’t faring much better, in fact your hands were dripping sweat as they remained tightly clasped together. Neither of you had touched the large bowl of popcorn, and they had long since gone cold. — Despite the freezing temperatures outside, your small dormitory seemed to be burning up. 

None of you had said a word since the movie began playing, and before that you had been communicating with fast and hushed murmurs as you avoided each other’s gaze. — Never had you imagined that you would be spending Christmas with Beomgyu, much less on the small and squeaking bed in your dorm. 

Did this mean that things were starting to look up between the two of you? 

Your heart practically leaps to your throat when you feel him shift on the mattress. Everytime he moved, even if it was just a mere centimeter, you tensed up. But the dramatic beating of your fluttering heart was only increased when he suddenly appeared even closer to you. His body feels warm, scorching hot inside the already airless room. 

He doesn’t say anything, and when you steal a glance his way, you find him watching the Tv. His expression would be relaxed if it weren't for the subtle twitch of his jaw when he felt your eyes on him. — Your attention drops to his hands, they were placed on the bed either side of him, his fingers moving absentmindedly against the sheets as he fiddled with them. 

Your lips pulled into a small smile, and oh how you had missed smiling. 

Beomgyu frowns when you suddenly climb off the bed, leaving behind an empty spot that radiates your sweet scent. He looked as though he was about to say something, one of his hands reaching out before stopping himself again. — He watches as you reach for the same bag you’d been clutching so tightly out on the bench, the one that had been completely disregarded in the end. 

You clear your throat, standing awkwardly by the edge of the bed as you hold it in two hands. “I…” Your throat feels parched and your lips dry as your tongue wets them, “I want you to have this.” You reach the bag out toward him and Beomgyu's frown only deepens. — “But it’s yours..” He murmurs as his eyes flit between you and the bag in your hands. 

“I want you to have it. — Besides”, you shrug, “You’re not the only one who’s been an idiot here.” 

His brow raises at your words, a small grin tugging at his lips as he gratefully accepts the token of an apology from you. You take the moment of him peering inside the bag to retake your position next to him on the mattress. Eagerly you watch as his frown deepens, only for it to ease up as he realizes what he was looking at. 

“This is..” He begins, one of his hands reaching into the bag as he pulls out the small bracelet. Beomgyu’s jaw slacks as he turns the cool and brown leather in his fingers, thumb caressing the warm and red embroidery. “You…” He cuts himself off, whether that was because he did not know what to say next or did not dare to. 

Your gaze flickers to the small box placed on your bedside table, perhaps you weren’t complete jackasses after all. 

“Why did you…” He swallows, and though he never finished his sentence, the question swirling within his eyes was obvious. — You shrug, nibbling on your bottom lip as you regard the bracelet in his hand. “It just… felt right.” 

There was no other way to explain it. For as you had trudged forward on tired feet, with heavy and droopy eyes, you had stumbled upon the very thing that had haunted you for so long. 

It has been a small stand, hardly making itself known amongst its competitors. The handmade jewelry however, immediately caught your eye. You recognized the leather, eyes widening even further as they caught glimpse of the warm red braided into it. 

Your stomach had dropped, just the way it would on a rollercoaster before its drop. That was undoubtedly the very same bracelet he’d worn, the one that had wrapped around his wrist so delicately, a constant reminder of what you had once lost. 

“That one,” You had said as you pointed to the accessory. Why? Because it felt right. Words would never even come close to describing the pull you felt, the immense need to have it. — But now, as you watch it lay in Beomgyu’s open palm, his lips parted as he regards the very bracelet, you understand perfectly. 

Things were exactly how they were supposed to be. 

Beomgyu’s hand suddenly drops, and he twists in his seat as he turns to you. The touch of his fingers against your cheek makes your eyes widen, the subtle reaction not passing him by unnoticed as a sly grin pulls across his lips. “What are you doing?” Your brows knit together, the soft confusion on your face only amusing him further. 

His breath is warm against your lips as his own hover above them. The tip of his round nose brushes against yours, the small contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. “What I should have done from the start”, he murmurs before pressing his lips to yours. 

⸝⸝

The agonizing noise of violent video games fill the open spaced living room. Continuous shots are fired, easily drowning out the sound of the doorbell. Completely immersed in his game, Yeonjun doesn’t look up until he feels the cushion beneath him shift as somebody takes the seat next to him. He doesn’t turn his head and look, he already knows who it is. 

“How did you get in?” He asks in a somewhat monotone voice, his eyes still glued to the Tv screen in front of him as he taps the controller in his hands. Beomgyu, who occupies the other half of the cough, shrugs as he spreads himself out on the soft furniture, just like he had so many times before. — As though nothing had changed. 

“Your girlfriend let me in”, he simply states as he, too, tunes in on the violent game. Yeonjun on the other hand frowns, his face morphing into confusion as his thumbs slow down on the buttons. At last, the game comes to an end and he tears the headset from his ears. — “Oh, so you talk to her now?” He retorts, his tone snappy and sharp as he tosses the control onto the coffee table. 

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek, his gaze still fixed to the ‘New Game’ flashing on the screen. “I do”, he hums, fingers absentmindedly toying with one another. Yeonjun scoffs as he throws a glance in the direction of his supposed friend. — “Any particular reason?” He queries to which Beomgyu swallows. 

There’s a momenteral silence following his question as the two of them remain quietly seated on the couch. Neither of them move, the air feeling heavy yet filled with a sense of anticipation. Finally, he clears his throat as his anxious fingers come to a halt. “I’ve been acting like an asshole..” Beomgyu murmurs as he pushes a hand through his now short hair. 

Yeonjun looked as though he was biting back a snarky remark, his gaze flickering between the other and his own hands. “No shit”, he mumbles under his breath, unable to hold the comment back as he sucked in a sharp breath. His gaze jumps from his hands and over to Beomgyu’s as he nervously fiddles with the seams of his jeans. He can’t help but notice the oddly familiar bracelet around his wrist. 

It takes him a good minute, but soon the pieces fall into place. His lip twitches as his eyes stray by the bracelet. — “I’m sorry”, Beomgyu quietly adds. It seems apologies were becoming a new habit of his. It took Yeonjun by surprise, making his eyebrows rise on his forehead, all the while Beomgyu avoided his gaze. 

“I haven’t been too good either, I suppose.” Yeonjun reluctantly admits as he gives a small shrug. Beomgyu doesn’t reply but still nods as he purses his lips. Another thick silence follows, it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not one either of them want to linger in. Yeonjun is the first to break it when he clears his throat. 

“I missed you man”, he says, his words light and filled with sincerity. 

Beomgyu finally finds himself looking at his friend, his eyes widening just a fraction. “Yeah?” He asks, the ghost of a grin playing across his lips. Yeonjun scoffs as he leans further into the couch, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” But it’s already too late, for Beomgyu was smirking as he leaned over to grab the discarded controller. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he drawls as he presses ‘New Game’. 

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[satorella]

“𝐀𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐈’𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…”

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 loves you.

Truly, he does. He just… doesn’t know how to show it properly.

How did he manage to pull you and keep you? No fucking clue. You should’ve honestly ran for the hills the second he started showing interest in you.

You knew how he was beforehand though; knew of all his major red flags, and yet, you were still here… sleeping peacefully in his bed every night.

He gently caressed your cheek as he watched you, listening to your soft snores…

Kaiser’s hand moved from your cheek to your hair, gently combing his calloused fingers through it. He sighed softly, continuing to watch your face. He watched your eyes flutter under your eyelids as you dreamed (hopefully it was about him).

His eyes traveled all over your face, studying every single one of your features; your eyelashes, your eyebrows, your nose, your lips…

Mein Gott, your lips.

He’s no saint. He made that clear. He had flaws. Major ones. He had a bad temper. He was possessive. He was stubborn. He was manipulative. He was cold… but for some reason, it’s like you didn’t even notice? Were you really just that naive, or?

Nein… his heart (you) could never be that stupid.

He was very much aware of the fact that he didn’t deserve you, he knew this since the beginning.

So why haven’t you gotten fed up with his bullshit yet? Are you only sticking around because you pity him? Or for his money and fame?

He knew none of that was true, of course. You’ve proven your love time and time again, but it didn’t stop the insecurities from crossing his mind on occasion. That’s just how fucked up he is, I guess.

He sighed, scooting a bit closer to you. He slowly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him but still careful not to wake you. He missed your sweet voice already to be honest, even though you’ve only been asleep for like 3 hours LOL. But he didn’t want to ruin the peaceful moment.

He’s watched you sleep on many occasions, actually. And he’s never understood why it relaxed him so much. He found comfort in lying there, listening to your soft breaths and hums. He’d just watch your face for what felt like hours, just admiring.

Not in a million years would he EVER admit that he was this obsessed with you though. He was prideful like that. He refused to say it out loud. But in the quiet moments when he was alone with you, just the two of you in his bedroom, he’d silently think about it. He’d admit it to himself, how much he loved you.

Love is scary. He’s never felt such a thing for a person, nor really received it (love from his fans is a different story). Falling in love with you was a shock to him, and everyone else that knew him. But not to you. It was an odd feeling, trusting someone like this. You knew he could do it though. He just needed some time to get his shit together. And you waited for him. Honestly you shouldn’t have, foolish girl. But you always tried to see the good in everyone… even someone like him.

Maybe you were naive.

He wasn’t a terrible boyfriend, but he also wasn’t the greenest of flags. He could be controlling at times, and he was selfish.

Either way, he’s still good to you. Or at least tries to be. That’s gotta count for something, right?

He thinks that maybe one day, you’ll open your eyes and realize how horrible of a partner he is, and you’ll find someone else. Someone who deserves you more than he does.

…HA! Over his dead fucking body! He would never let anyone else have you. Ever.

You were his.

He buried his face into the top of your head, inhaling your scent. Yeah, all his. He let out a low hum, feeling you nuzzle into his chest; smiling to himself as he gently placed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved having you close like this. He loved being able to have you in his bed, in his arms. It was something he wouldn’t give up for anything in the world.

Fuck, he loved the shit out of you.

Not that he didn’t trust you, but he worried that if he let you in on how he truly felt… you’d realize how broken and damaged he was. How desperate he was to be loved.

You’d realize that he was an absolute mess. You couldn’t see him like this.

But maybe he’s the foolish one for thinking like that? For doubting you even just for a second…

“Mihya…” You mumbled, calling out to him still half asleep. “Hm?” He hummed softly, keeping you pressed against his chest. “I can hear your heart racing. Why are you still awake?” He felt his face heat up a bit, mentally facepalming himself. Of course you noticed.

“Just thinking.” He answered in a low voice. He was trying to stay calm, to act like everything was fine. “Well stop it.” You grumbled, moving your face from his chest to the crook of his neck instead. He let out a low chuckle at your tone, feeling your face brush against his skin. He loved how clingy you could get when you were sleepy, it was cute.

“I can’t just stop thinking, Schatz.” He places another kiss on the top of your head. “If it’s not about me, then yes you can.” You retorted. He hummed softly, amused by your groggy, half-asleep responses. He brought his hand back up to gently run his fingers through your hair again, “And what if it was about you?” He asked, still trying to sound confident despite his racing heart. “Better be dirty thoughts.” You joked. You knew it wasn’t. You knew he was having those late night thoughts again, so you were just trying to lighten the mood.

A small smirk appeared on his face, “Is that what you want me to be thinking about?” He teased, his smirk turning into a sly grin as he gently pulled your leg over his hip; caressing the back of your thigh. “Mihya.” You tried to say in a warning tone, but obviously failed. You kissed his neck, before snuggling back in it. “Go to sleep.”

“Do you really expect me to be able to sleep when you’re this clingy?” He teased, his grip on you tightening. “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who clung to me first.” You mumbled against his neck. He let out a chuckle at your comment, unable to argue with that. You were right, but knowing him, he wasn’t just going to let you win that easily. “I’m not clingy. I just simply don’t feel like letting go of you yet.”

You tilted your head back, and groggily glared up at him for a moment. He huffs at your gaze, his eyes locking onto yours without hesitation. He brought his hand up to gently grasp your chin, tilting your head up a bit more. He studied your face in the darkness, his eyes roaming over your features. “What? Why the grumpy look, Liebchen?” “Nothing,” You grumbled, “Love you...” He smiled at your response, both amused and a little annoyed at your attitude, but he found it cute regardless. “Say it properly without the grumpy attitude, then I may say it back.” He teased.

“I love you, Michael.” Your eye slightly twitched. He chuckled, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He continued to study your face in the darkness, his eyes never leaving yours. “Now say it back already so I can go back to sleep.” You demanded. He rolled his eyes, but moved his hand to cup your cheek; leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “I love you too, Mein Herz.” [My heart.] He said quietly…

Finally giving in.

© 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[literallyapieceoftrash]

The way yall characterize Radzig in this fandom is insane and since ive gotten so fed up here’s a bitchy rant. (I’ve only played the first game in full, not done with the second yet fyi)

“Radzig could’ve married Henry’s mother!”

No. He fucking couldn’t. He legit fucking couldn’t. Even if he figured out some way to make it work what life would that subject Henry and his mother to? The commoner who birthed a noble’s bastard out of wedlock? Yeah, that’d go over smoothly.

“They could’ve run away and married”

Sure they could’ve, but there’s the means of finding work, surviving the journey, making sure Henry’s mother had the right people around to help with the birth. Etc etc. Not a good idea methinks.

“Radzig doesn’t care about Henry! He only sees him as a useful tool!”

Ex-fucking-cuse me? Are we playing the same game here? The man who looked distressed when watching Henry run away from the castle, didn’t care about Henry? The man who quite literally loudly expressed his relief when hearing about Henry’s survival in Talmberg? Naaah doesn’t mean anything. The man who took Henry into his service the moment he walked into Rattay, gave him all the means to defend himself and more training to boot? Nope he don’t care. The man who, yes sent him on dangerous missions, but always with the advice of caution, of not taking unnecessary risks, flat out stating that he didn’t want to lose him, and not only that always telling him what a good job he’s doing and that he’s PROUD of him when he returns? NAAAH doesn’t care.

The man who was AGAINST Henry going to Vranik because it was too dangerous, and only allowed it at Hanush and Henry’s request.

Radzig proves a million times over that he cares. Shut up with this “useful tool” bullshit.

“Radzig didn’t explain himself at all”

This might just be me, but I didn’t particularly want the details of what happened between Henry’s mother and Radzig. Especially since if Henry is 18-19 in KCD that would put Radzig in his TEENS when he had Henry.

For me “We were young and it happened” was enough. Besides, he explained the most important part.

That Martin knew, and that Radzig never forgot about him.

Henry wasn’t just “an accident” to Radzig, no shut up, he wasn’t.

If Radzig truly thought that, he wouldn’t have kept an eye on Henry, he wouldn’t have taken the time to make sure him and his mother were taken care of. This man may not be world’s best dad, but ffs you can tell that he TRIES.

TLDR: Sir Dadzig cares, pass it on.

[flippinpancakes64]

Don’t Be a Stranger

Summary: You found out that Marc doesn’t actually hate you as much as you thought he did… so what does that mean, exactly?

Tags: Marc Spector x reader, angst and fluff cause I like being happy

Part 2 of The Squeaky Third Wheel

Note: Uhm… I thought the last post would be enough but I still have Marc Spector brainrot so… enjoy!

Everything would’ve been fine if Steven kept his nose to himself.

Or at least, that’s what Marc was trying to convince himself of.

Logically, things weren’t fine. But they were easier. Easier because Marc didn’t have to confront his own feelings about you.

But the cat’s out of the bag and it’s Steven’s fault and goddamn it he wishes he and Steven were separate people for just a moment so he could punch the shit out of that cocky little fucker-

Everything was fine. Or at least, it was fine for Marc.

During the day, he was a rude, selfish asshole. He would push you away, downright ignore you, and do his best to make you want to leave.

But you never did.

So to keep his pride intact while still being the selfish man that he is, he would pose as Steven at night.

Once you were deep asleep, too drowsy to notice the slight difference of his mannerisms from Steven’s, that’s when he’d strike.

And it was nice, to be able to hold you like he was supposed to be there, to pretend like you wanted him to be the one to shush you from a nightmare. To pretend to be the one you were imagining in your dreams.

And yeah, it stung every time he kissed your forehead and you murmured Steven’s name.

But again, pride, ego, hubris, whatever you want to call it.

Marc was made for the night, made to wander around and be moody and miserable all he wanted under the protection of the stars. Steven was made to preserve whatever was left of his own childlike innocence, to allow this body to wander around and live a relatively normal and happy life.

So really, it was entirely Steven’s fault for waking up that night.

You were having a nightmare. And Marc, ever the protector, was shushing you and kissing your cheek. His large hands covered yours, offering some semblance of comfort from the darkness that had seeped into your mind.

And then a quiet voice rang out.

“Marc? What are you doing?” Steven’s voice called, muffled inside his own head.

He froze. Caught, red handed. His heart rate sped up, and he swallowed heavily.

“Don’t worry about it, go to sleep,” he whispered. The same words he’s said to you multiple times. But of course, Steven’s too stubborn for that.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Steven urged, his presence in the headspace becoming more alert.

Shit. He was officially caught.

“I promise it’s not what it looks like. They were… having a nightmare. It woke me up. I was just about to get up and leave,” Marc said.

“You’re a shit liar,” Steven said simply. “Is this what you get up to after I’ve gone to bed?”

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. It’s way too late for Steven’s bullshit.

“No, no. Nothing like that. This was just a one time thing,” Marc sighed, trying not to sound as pathetic as he felt.

“A one time thing? Really? Cause I seem to recall quite a few odd memories I’ve gotten over the past couple months or so,” Steven teased.

Marc froze. Of course he forgot about the fact that he and Steven can share memories, cause wouldn’t that be convenient?

It comes in handy when one of them is trying to remember what was on the shopping list, or when trying to recall if Gus had been fed already or not. But right now? Marc feels like he’s going to collapse from the embarrassment. Not only has he been caught, and not even in 4k, he’s been caught with one of the stupid fucking telescopes that NASA uses to see planets that are millions of light years away.

He could feel Steven digging around, and before he could even tell him off or block him out, his own memories were dragged to the surface. Night after night, day after day of him purposefully waking up after Steven’s gone to bed just so he can get his own quiet moments with you.

The world stood still for a moment, and the only sounds that filled their bedroom were the soft sounds of your breathing. Marc’s not even sure his heart was beating as he waited for the judgement from Steven.

“Marc, you bloody bastard,” Steven called, his voice mixed with barely contained laughter. “I always knew you were a hopeless romantic.”

God, he wanted to punch him so bad.

“Shut the fuck up,” Marc growled, moving to get up from the bed. But you reached out, your hand grabbing onto his bicep. The moment of hesitation that followed only egged Steven on.

“You’re totally whipped. Oh, I knew it, you cheeky liar,” he laughed. The asshole actually laughed. Marc wanted to die then and there.

And before he could argue any further, your sleepy voice called out. “Steven… what are you doing?” You whined.

That familiar disappointment coursed through him, only this time, Steven was there to feel it too.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, he only grabbed your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, hoping that you would just go back to sleep. But of course, the world hates Marc Spector.

“Marc,” you said softly. He looked back to see you, those eyes that held infinite patience. Steven wasn’t speaking, but he knew he was there.

“I’m sorry… I’m going,” he whispered. This isn’t the place for him to be. His hands were molded and shaped over the years to cling to his weapons. His eyes were trained to find enemies from the rooftops. He’s not supposed to be here.

And yet, how he longed to be.

“Don’t leave,” you said.

“Why?” Was all he could respond with.

Why would you want him to stay? He’s been terrible to you. All he’s ever done is driven you away. That’s what he does best.

“Because I love you,” you whispered, your voice tender as if you were talking to Steven, to someone worthy of your love.

“No you don’t,” he whispered, his voice gruff and filled with such a deep sense of loathing. “You love Steven, and you ‘love’ me because I look like him.”

You could’ve backed up, given him a little space, but yet your hand remained right there on his shoulder.

“You don’t know me. You don’t get to claim how I feel or how I don’t feel,” you retorted, your voice steady and sure. When he looked back, he could see that familiar fire in your eyes. The same look you give Steven when he’s being down on himself. The look he’s wished you would give him so many times.

You didn’t give him a moment to speak again. To spew his hateful, self-deprecating rhetoric.

“I love the way you hold me when you think I’m asleep, I love the sweet words you think I can’t hear. I love the way you stubbornly refuse to wear those reading glasses and how you look so grumpy when you can’t read the paper. I love how excited you get when your baseball team wins, and how pouty you get when they lose. I love how thoughtful you are even when you’re trying to ice me out. All the times you’ve gotten me a towel when I forget one in the shower, how you make sure to order extra food for yourself because you know I’m going to steal it later. And how you ‘mysteriously’ don’t put onions in that chili you like to make because you know I don’t like them. I love you, Marc Spector,” you said.

And the world stood still.

Even Steven was completely silent in their headspace, which is good, because he might’ve gotten dizzy from how much Marc’s head was spinning.

You loved him.

And it wasn’t a hollow proclamation, you listed everything you loved about him. Things he didn’t know you knew. Things he didn’t want you to know.

So he did the only thing he could reasonably think of to do, and he kissed you.

And for the first time in his life, Marc Spector swears he can feel the sun on his skin. And he feels like he’s supposed to be there. No longer is he a vampire in a man’s world, the protector of the weak and innocent, the sore thumb that ruins everything he touches. Now, he’s just a man. A man with a bleeding heart swelled with love. Love for someone who loves him back.

[themeraldee]

dee! i had this thought and i just had to share it…… i’m thinking about homelander with a gf who likes to color.

at first he thinks it’s ridiculously childish (‘seriously? what are you, 6?’ “it’s good for you! it calms the mind!”) but you just look so cute doing it when your face is all focused and it did seem to be relaxing for you. plus, the finished product was always far better than he expected it to be and you really had a really knack for bringing the pictures to life.

you’d rip pages out for him and hid them places to surprise him with and he’d always do his best to keep the rest of the team from seeing them because the last thing he wanted was a train to see it and tell everyone. he can’t have people thinking you’ve made him go soft.

he of course buys you the most expensive pencils and markers and one time when you’re at the supermarket, you see a ‘dawn of the seven’ coloring book next to all the candy bars by the register and bring it home.

you’re all excited to show it to him and he’s immediately thrown off guard once he sees the semi-colored in suit of maeve on the page instead of the usual cute girlie rainbow-bullshit pages you usually color. “they make these?” he flips through the book, unpleased with how little he appears in it. it’s a smaller book, sure, only about 40 pages as opposed to the jumbo books you normally colored in, but still— only about 20% of it had him in it and that wasn’t gonna do.

immediately he purchases every ‘homelander’ themed book he can find and brings them to you— watching you even more closely as you doodle in the details of his suit and it just feeds his ego and love for you. plus, now he can proudly carry around a little homelander picture his precious girl colored for him.

this is coming at a perfect time just as I've gotten back into colouring 😂 I got one of those cutesy colouring books that are all over amazon and I totally see I'd be getting teased to all hell for it (BUT ITS FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

The most important thing here is that Homelander will from now on be my walking credit card. And entire new set of coloured pencils? "Of course, honey." All of the copic sketch markers? "Get whatever you want, go nuts."

HEAVEN IM TELLING YOU!!!

I do love how much of a lovingly condescending asshole he can be. Like aw shucks isn't it so cute that his gf has her silly little hobbies. I'm just such a good boyfriend providing her with everything she wants. (but also why do they not include me 😠😠😠)

(I'd have to secretly colour other things in secret so I don't get fed up with the red/blue/gold combo 😂 OR just design new suits for him.

"Why do I look like a watermelon." 🤨

"I thought the pink and green would bring out your eyes.")

[boundbyeclipse]

Okay so I saw your prompt list and I was wondering if you’d be able to write prompt 1 from angst with prompt 4 from smut for Kai?? I would literally DIE if it’s possible + your writing I literally amazing

hi, precious! oh of course I can, you request - I deliver! ps. my heart is happy, thank you so so much, it means a lot to me 🥺 ilysm ♡

tag : jealous!reader, vampire!reader, female!reader, rough!Kai, boyfriend!Kai, mentions of Bonnie

prompts are here.

♠️ 1. “Just go hang out with Person C. You’ve gotten good at that”

⛓️ 4. “If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

It wasn’t just a little argument. It wasn’t anything close to a small fight. You actually had rage exploding out of you. You were so fed up with seeing how Kai talks to Bonnie, how he flashes her a smile, how much time he spends with her and how he just cannot stop talking about her in general. It annoyed the hell out of you to the point you grew angry, jealous and wanted to never see him again.

You stood in front of him behind the school building, face to face, no people in sight as it was late at night. It was finally time to show him you were fed up with everything he’s been doing.

“I am so sick and tired of this bullshit, Kai. I’m right. Here. And yet you aren’t listening to me!”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down. You’re quite literally an ignited match right now, you’re burning with all this anger” he raises his hands in the air, taking a step forward, but you take a step back.

“Yes, yes I am! Tell me, is she better than me? Is she prettier? Does she make you feel alive? What is it, Malachai?”

The name makes him scrunch his nose, but it’s just because you’re both fighting. Under any other condition, he always loves it. And you are the only person he accepts it from. If anyone else says it, he gets irritated and mad.

“What are you even talking about right now? There’s nothing going on, I have no interest in her, my eyes are all on you”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Just go hang out with Bonnie. You’ve gotten good at that”

Using your vamp-speed you run into the building, getting inside the gym and sitting down on the bottom of the stairs, burying your face in your palms as you tried to calm down. Then you began to regret starting this fight with him. Maybe you’re just overreacting, imagining what isn’t there because you’re so in love with Kai, that the simplest things make you jealous. Like a few weeks ago when he was talking to another girl who he only needed help from to find some sort of a spell. They only spoke, exchanged smiles, that’s it. And you still found yourself grinding your teeth at the sight. Maybe you really are overreacting.

As you stare at the floor while fiddling your fingers, the door opens and closes - Kai has found you.

“Are you really going to throw another tantrum at me?” he asks, walking towards you in quick steps, stopping right in front of you. You couldn’t bear it, so you stood up, bodies so close to each other that you felt one another’s breaths on your faces.

“Kai, I just cannot stand how you act around her. I feel left out, like I’m never here, like I don’t exist sometimes. And yes, maybe it’s my stupid brain that makes me think this way, act this way, maybe it’s too much. So tell me, what the hell is going on so I know. I don’t want to hurt myself or you”

He moves even closer to you, and you didn’t think it was even possible to be this close to him. Not during a fight. A heavy sigh leaves his lips, heartbeat intense as he cannot help but feel the tension between you both. He’s so angry that you’re like this, so angry that he wants to prove to you that all he wants is you.

“You have always trusted me. So why can’t you trust me now when I say there is nothing between me and Bonnie? Why?”

“Maybe because I need you to prove it” your lower lip trembled as you inhaled the scent of his cologne, mixed with the smell of leather of his jacket. It was some sort of a distraction, you could feel lust beginning to wash over your body, and Kai was able to notice. He’s known you long enough to know your body language. He knew when you were sad, when you felt shy, nervous, bothered. Even sexually frustrated. And that was the case right now.

Especially the way you kept looking at his lips, even if that lasted for a second.

He knew you wanted to taste him. He knew you wanted him to yourself and yourself only. It was a tad bit too easy to read you. But he wanted to get it out from you, so he did not make any moves.

“You know damn well that I can see it in your eyes - you cannot keep it together. From head to toe you’re shaking with desire, I can tell that my cologne is driving you insane. Your heart is racing a thousand miles per hour,” he teased you with words, his voice husky and inviting, “so go ahead, kiss me. Be jealous. Be overprotective”

You bit your lip, blood boiling as you snapped at him, voice silvery.

“If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

Kai grins, leaning closer to your ear to whisper.

“So kiss me”

Your temper is short lived as you grab his face, landing your warm lips on his, not wasting any time to slip your tongue in his mouth. With your vamp-speed you end up in the hall, Kai pressing you against the lockers, his cold fingertips touching your skin under your shirt. A filthy moan escaping from you as he picks you up, his large hands firmly holding the back of your thighs.

In a second, you’re in a classroom, laid on the desk, Kai kissing and sucking your neck, earning small whimpers from you. He pushes your skirt up, all over you as he grinds himself against your heated core. His jeans tighten within seconds, becoming more and more unbearable as he continues to bite your collarbone. His hands squeeze your hips as he groans against your skin as he cannot contain himself no more.

Kai unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down, letting his length spring against his stomach, rock hard and throbbing with need.

“You want me to prove myself to you, hm?” he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer, your thighs hugging his waist as he lines himself at your clothed entrance.

“Y-yes” you moan eagerly, waiting for his next move.

“I’ll make sure the whole town hears you, and I’ll leave you limping, everyone will be jealous of YOU, sweetheart”

The pads of his fingers ghost over your underwear, suddenly pulling it away as he enters you without a warning. You gasp and grab the sides of the desk, your insides pulsing with each thrust. He’s almost too big for you to take, but you love the way he stretches you out. You buck your hips against him, but Kai presses you down as his hands hold you down by your hip bones, fingers bruising the skin.

“Ma-Malachai” you cry out.

“Don’t you move. You brought this upon yourself. Now take it”

His thrusts become rougher and deeper, one hand reaching for your throat, squeezing the sides as he grunts from above you. The table underneath you shakes, sliding across the floor, all the papers and pencils falling down as Kai buried himself deeply in you. But he couldn’t care less about that. He was focused on you.

Your leg begins to cramp, and you grab his wrist, squeezing it and tapping it.

But Kai wasn’t going to stop. He pulled out, lifting you up and flipping you around, your ass on full display for him. He grabs one leg of yours, lifting it up so he has better access to your dripping folds. In a second he’s back inside of you, now leaning over you as he has his arm around your throat, his low and smoky moans heard in your ear. His other hand is holding your leg, hips slamming against you with no mercy.

Your eyes rolled back from the ecstasy he’s put you in, his name leaving your mouth in loud cries, echoing through the whole building. He feels so good that tears fall from your eyes, legs shaking and torso jolting as his tip hits the right spot. You can sense your high coming, your core pulsing and walls tightening around his length.

“Come on, love, hold on a little longer. You’re not cumming until I do” he warns.

His command makes you choke on your words, voice barely coming out with a little “yes”. Kai smirks at your attempt to reply, finding it hot that you’re so affected by him.

Kai pulls out again, lifting you up and sitting you down on the wooden desk, one hand wrapped around your waist as his other one holds you by the back of your neck. He gifts you a sloppy but passionate kiss, biting your lip in the process. You moan his name again, letting him know that there is no possibility you’ll last any longer. Knowing he’s almost done too, he buries his face in the crook of your neck while his hand reaches to squeeze your breast, kneading the hard nipple.

The classroom is soon filled with both of your moans as you explode, cumming around his length, black dots in your vision, Kai spilling himself inside you. Both of you catch your breaths, hugging for some time before fixing yourselves.

“Have I proven myself?” he asks, throwing on his jacket.

“If you’ll take me home and make me a bath with bubbles, mission will be accomplished”

Kai shakes his head, chuckling at you as he unexpectedly picks you up, throws you over his shoulder and carries you out of the school.

“This woman, tsk tsk tsk” he clicks his tongue and smacks your butt as he holds you tight, not letting you down until you’re finally back at his house.

[darkenedroses-world]

Protective Mode — Smii7y x Reader

f!reader, angst, protective Smii7y, found family, social media drama, request🦋

It started out so harmless.

The guys were in full chaos mode during a stream, their voices overlapping as they bantered back and forth. The noise spilled into the kitchen where you were humming to yourself, finishing up a fresh batch of cookies. “Yo, Smii7y,” Grizzy’s voice cut through, loud and teasing. “Is that you getting fed again? I swear I hear plates and shit clinking.” “Oh, it’s definitely Y/N,” Droid added, laughing. “Bro, you’re actually spoiled. Does she, like, just live in the kitchen for you?” Puffer chimed in next, snickering. “Nah, Y/N’s the real MVP. If I lived with Smii7y, I’d let that man starve.” “Fuck off,” Smii7y said, his voice muffled slightly by his mic, but there was a smile in his tone. “I didn’t ask for anything. She just does it ‘cause she’s nice.” Grizzy laughed. “I’m just saying, it’s like having a full-time mom who’s also your girlfriend. Y/N’s a saint.” You could faintly hear Smii7y huff over the sound of your oven door closing. “You guys are stupid.” The chat, of course, picked up on it instantly. Questions flooded in, waves of “WHO’S Y/N?” and “SHE COOKS FOR YOU?!!” spamming the stream. Smii7y didn’t give much more context, brushing off the teasing with his usual wit. “She’s my girlfriend, chat. Chill out.” What happened next was inevitable.

You’d been careful about keeping your life private, but it didn’t stop fans from diving deep. Within hours, they’d found your Instagram—pictures of meals, sunset views, and candid shots you’d thought nothing of. The comments started small—curious, lighthearted questions—but quickly spiraled into insults:

• “She’s not even cute. What’s Smii7y doing with her?”

• “She doesn’t deserve him.”

• “Bet she’s a clout chaser. Smii7y could do better.”

• “You’re ruining his streams. Kill yourself.”

At first, you tried to ignore it, turning off notifications and forcing yourself to scroll past the cruel words. But the messages kept coming—DMs filled with threats, accusations, and things you didn’t want to repeat aloud. A day later, Smii7y was streaming again, unaware of just how bad things had gotten. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling your phone. The distant sound of Smii7y’s voice filtered through his mic, calm and familiar as he played. “Chat, relax, I’m focusing,” he said, chuckling softly. “I’m trying to win here.” Then, the silence stretched too long. “…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice was low, sharp, and cold. Your head shot up. Smii7y rarely sounded like that—something was wrong. “What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up straight, but he didn’t answer right away. “Chat,” he growled, the bite in his voice making you shiver, “which one of you thought it’d be a good idea to talk shit about my girlfriend? Huh? You think I wouldn’t see it?” You froze, heart pounding as he continued. “Don’t you dare bring her into this bullshit,” he snapped, his tone getting louder. “You wanna talk shit about me? Go ahead—I don’t care. But leave her the fuck out of it.” The chat flooded with messages—some confused, others panicking—but Smii7y wasn’t done. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s done nothing but be kind and patient with me and with life in general. And what do you do? You harass her? You send her death threats because I mentioned her name? Are you out of your fucking minds?”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging as you watched him defend you so fiercely. Puffer’s voice suddenly cut through Discord, alarmed. “Wait, hold up—what’s going on?” “People are being assholes to Y/N,” Smii7y snapped, his tone still fiery. Puffer let out a disbelieving laugh. “No fucking way. Over what? Being a decent human?” Grizzy’s mic clicked on next, his voice dead serious. “That’s fucking wild. Y’all really mad at her because she cooks and cares about people? You need help.” “She made me the best ribs of my life,” Droid added, clearly pissed. “Y’all couldn’t even dream of someone being that nice to you.” “Exactly,” Smii7y said, his voice rising. “She doesn’t owe you anything. She’s not a streamer; she’s not part of this world. She’s just living her fucking life—and now she has to deal with this?” You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. “You wanna harass her? Fine,” Smii7y spat. “But just know you’ll never see my face in your chat again. You’re not a fan if this is how you act.” Puffer chimed in again, softer this time. “Seriously, y’all need to chill. She’s, like, the nicest person I’ve ever met. You’re ruining it for everyone.” Grizzy groaned. “For real. Grow up, man.” After the stream ended, Smii7y turned his chair and stood, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding you close. “I didn’t think they’d take it this far.” You clung to him, tears slipping down your cheeks. “It’s not your fault. But… thank you. For standing up for me.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression softening. “You’re my everything. I’m not letting anyone treat you like shit. Ever.” You managed a weak smile, your voice breaking. “I love you.” Smii7y kissed your forehead, his hold tightening protectively. “I love you, too. And don’t worry—next time, they won’t get off so easy.”

[humongousgothskeletonfarm]

TGR CHAPTER 19 THOUGHTS

(includes spoilers)

- “Kevin gamely did his best to keep Neil out of the conversation, not trusting his vice-captain to speak, but the interviewer was persistent.” IM CACKLING NEIL CANNOT BE RESTRAINED KEVIN LET HIM LOOSE

- THANK U NORA FOR GIVING US KEVIN AND NEIL BANTER WE R SO BLESSED

- kevin kicking neil under the table 🫶 neil saying if kevin was honest about the ravens he wouldn’t have to be and kevin saying bitch ur literally the least honest person i know🫶 they love each other so bad

- “They don’t deserve kindness from me after everything they’ve put us through,” Neil insisted. “I hope they lose every game this season, and I’ll say it as many times as someone asks me. They don’t belong on the court until everyone Coach Moriyama trained has been cleared out of there. Edgar Allan should have farmed them out to other schools and dismantled the entire program, if you ask me.” HE SAID WHAT HE SAID AND HE WASNT WRONG OK HE STOOD ON BUSINESS THAT IS THE NEIL I KNOW AND LOVE THANK U FOR UR INPUT KING

and all kevin says is

“they didn’t ask you”

- “Kevin forgot all about his contentious teammate in favor of Trojan gossip.” i love him

- kevin defending jean, being confused why the interviewer thought he’d get in a brawl 🫶

- “Glad to see his ribs healed up without any lingering consequences for anyone involved.” neil u little instigating shit u!!!

- kevin POINTEDLY rubbing his scarred hand and then saying “With all due respect, there is no point,” he said. “You will never take anyone’s word over theirs, so you are best off asking the Ravens for the truth. But good luck: they do not know how to tell it unless one has been fed to them.” HE SAID THAT HE WENT THERE HE SAID FUCK UR BULLSHIT FUCK UR DICK RIDING OPEN UR EYES AND GROW A BRAIN BECAUSE THE RAVENS ARE NOT WHO U THINK THEY ARE

OHHHHH IM SHAKING IN MY BOOTS GUYS THIS IS MONUMENTAL LORD I LOVE THEM

- oh jere ur so jealous of renee and u don’t even know it

- it’s quite sad reading about how the graduated ravens career in exy only lasts about five years before the succumb to chronic pain etc. as much as i hate them for their actions, their treatment of jean and kevin and enabling of riko. they too were mistreated by riko and tetsuji and as much as they all still maintain that cult like loyalty to the ravens it is just very sad

- “Jeremy feared for Jean’s long-term health, but he feared for Kevin’s more.” oh jere ur so kind

- i’m ngl im so bad with names when im reading, especially when there’s heaps of characters. if one person only gets called by their last name and occasionally someone mentions their first name im going to assume it’s a whole different person. i cannot remember like half of the trojan lineup if im being completely honest with u

- ik u guys don’t give a fuck coz ur only here for the book but writing these is like writing a diary to me and i feel compelled to interject with random personal updates. i have exactly 100 pages left and less than an hour before i have to start getting ready for uni and leave and im desperate to finish it. lets lock in

- having to take a deep breath before i read the fox/raven game guys im so excited im shaking

- HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHITTTTTT

- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST U GET DISTRACTED FROM THE GAME FOR ONE SECOND AND SOMEONES ALREADY TRYNA KILL NEIL!! THEY BARELY STARTED PLAYING!!! GET THE FUCK OFF HIM BITCH

- KEVIN RUNNING TO GET TO NEIL AND BEING ATTACKED AND DAN FIGHTING OFF HIS ATTACKER AND KEVIN IMMEDIATELY STRAIGHT BACK TO GETTING NEIL AHHHH

- ALL I CAN SAY IS WHAT THE FUCK HOLY SHITTTTT

- andrew dragging wymack to get to neil while being injured ohhhhhh it’s baltimore all over again

- andrew immediately bodying the girl tryna attack neil with an injured arm and kevin kneeling beside neil. god he’s so loved and protected

- THIRTY SECONDS INTO THE HALF????

- “Boyd had no problems taking on a second body.” YEAH THATS RIGHT

- “Someone had finally gotten Neil to his feet, and Andrew was somehow keeping him there.” neil thought andrew looked steady, like he could hold him up😭

- UM FUCK THAT????? I AGREE DILLON WHY TF WERE THE GUY WHO HIT ANDREW AND LANE WHO TRIED TO LITWRALLY KILL NEIL AND WENT BACK FOR MORE EXEMPT FROM SUSPENSIONS BUT ANDREW WASNT

CHAPTER TWENTY

- lowkey is suchhhh a slight to put ur third lineup/not as great players on as starting. if i was the utes and i saw them do that id be so cut like ok i see what ur saying here

- “Being a victim doesn’t automatically absolve someone of their wrongdoings,” he said at last. “I can regret what they’re going through now, but I am not required to forgive them for what they’ve done to people I care about. I genuinely hope they get the help they need, and I hope it happens as far from the court as possible. Josten was right: none of them are ready to be back yet. It isn’t fair to them or anyone they’re up against.”

you took the words right out of my mouth jeremy. very diplomatic, two things can be true at once. the ravens need to heal and unlearn the bad behaviour they have been taught and stop inflicting it on others, they have been abused yes but that does not negate the abuse they contain to perpetuate and enact on others such as the foxes and jean. i hate them and i also want them to get better for their sake and everyone around them

- god jeremy has so much more patience and a stronger will than i could ever have. if someone sat their and kept pressing me and talking shit about my team i couldn’t refrain from starting an argument

-“He doesn’t want to challenge them. I don’t have to like it, and I won’t stop encouraging him to stand his ground, but I’m not going to force him into a confrontation he’s not ready to have. He’s learning how to trust us. I can’t betray him.”

ur already doing so well by him jeremy

- WHATS GOING ON PLS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SOMEONE TELL ME GIVE ME UPDATES OM THE FOXES!! WHATS RHEMANN SAID THAT GOT JEAN SO IPSET

- THE RAVENS HAVE BEEN SUSPENDED HOLY SHITTTTTT

- “He knew Rhemann had great respect for Wymack and the way he’d crafted his unorthodox team, and Rhemann had never hesitated to throw his weight behind Palmetto State when the ERC seemed poised to strike the small team down,” MUCH RESPECT TO RHEMANN GOTTA LOVE HIM

- TWO FRACTURED RIBS OHHHHH HES NOT GONNA BE HAPPY ABOUT THAT

(the missing out on court time)

- wymack and abby and andrew are gonna have their work cut out for them trying to stop him from playing

- GODDD A FRACTURE CLAVICAL ON ANDREW TOO???

- “Say the word and I’ll fight him over Christmas break,” Cody said. “I wasn’t going to go home for it, but I’ll make an exception.” LOVE THEMMMM I KNOW ITS A JOKE BUT LIKE TROJANS DONT EVEN JOKE ABOUT FIGHTING PEOPLE AND THEYRE DOING IT FOR JEAN

- jean hating cam because he was rude to thea oh he’s so good

- “How Jean’s kind heart had survived a place like Evermore, Jeremy wasn’t sure.” HE WAS ALWQYS TOO GOOD FOR THEM THIS SHITS GONNA MAKE ME CRY ON THE TRAIN RN

- OH MY FUCKING GOD I WAS THINKING JESUS CHRIST WHAT HAS SOMEONE SET THEIR HOUSE/COURT ON FIRE???

THEY DID WTF OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS IS INSANE MY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR

god i can’t even imagine their heartbreak this is so devastating. jeans first real home, the very little amount of possessions he had to his name all gone. the beautiful home laila and cat have constructed over the years a reflection of who they are as people, jeans safe haven. my chest aches for them.

jeans postcards from kevin and his 4th of july wristband :(( and knowing how guilty he’s going to feel over this,

- “You’re a victim as much as Cat and Laila are, so don’t take on a burden that isn’t yours. It won’t help any of you. Do you understand?”

“They adore you and so will gladly reassure you of your innocence until you believe them, but your unasked-for guilt is a distraction from their loss and grief. They don’t deserve that extra stress right now.”

“The best thing you can do right now is accept that some people are assholes and that it is outside of your control. Mourn what you’ve lost without carrying more than you should.”

some very wise words for jere, min and xavier there. it’s very easy to fall into the unending spiral of guilt and convince urself that u are at fault when that may not necessarily be the case

- rest in peace barkbark

- if this was a physical book there would be tears trains all over the pages of this chapter :(

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

- ohhhh jean hugging cat like she always does for him because it always makes him feel better im sooooo sick

- unnecessary life update no.5123849: i’m officially finished classes for today and i got to catch up with the only friend i can talk about aftg with for coffee, she hasn’t finished the book yet but it was much needed to get all my feelings out lmao

- “He’s only been playing for fourteen years, you can’t expect his own mother to know how an Exy season works.” cat is the friend everyone deserves

- AGENT BROWNING MAKES HIS RETURN

- “I hate this sport,” Browning said to his partner. “Explain to me why they’re all like this.” THiIS IS TEWWWW FUNNYYYYYY

browning fucking hates exy players

- oh wow look at the fbi being helpful once, that’s a shock

- idk if this is just because i’m not a part of sport culture or if it’s because im not american. but it’s so crazy to me that people (grown adults) are THAT invested in college sport that they would care this much i.e. burn down someone’s house in retaliation. idk maybe this is a thing that happens in the real life sporting fandom or maybe i should focus on the fact that this is fiction

[sophswritingthings]

hiya! okay so something i think about a lot is what if reader and taigen get along really well, always chatting and telling jokes. but reader is really oblivious to his flirting and sees it as friendly bantering but mizu can see right through it and gets jealous.

eventually mizu gets fed up and caves in and confesses to reader? something about jealous mizu man…oh lordy 🥴

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing

a/n: jealous mizu makes me feel something lmao

summary: seeing you “flirt” (or what she thinks is flirting) with taigen never made her happy. you being around taigen made her pissed, in the first place. at some point; she caves, confessing her feelings that you were very oblivious to.

word count: 526 words / 2,841 characters

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you were giggling at him; smiling and laughing at his goddamn horrible jokes.

It killed her to think that you were even remotely interested in him; why you would even be wasting five seconds of your precious time thinking about him was beyond her.

you were sitting around the fire, mizu sitting near ringo and you sitting beside taigen.

taigen. taigen!

“taigen! that’s so bad,” you said the words through a laugh, batting him off with a hand. “you can’t be saying things like that to a lady.”

he chuckles back at your words, “I know, I know,” he gave you a wink.

you giggled, adverting you’re gaze. it was as if you were blushing at him. taigen, of all people, you were blushing at fucking taigen.

mizu huffed, hauling herself to her feet. ringo watched as she want; arching an eyebrow at the samurai. she had just gotten her stitches done—it’s not like she didn’t need the rest.

she flopped down on her side, her opposite, side, not wanting to injury herself any further.

that’s when she heard footsteps behind her. she shifted a little.

she looked up to see you, standing over her body with a smile.

“you stomped off so I came to find you,” you stepped around your body, settling just in front of the side she was facing.

“wouldn’t you rather be spending your time with taigen?” she adverted her blue gaze, letting out a little huff of breath.

you raise an eyebrow at her response, “what do you mean?”

she rolls her eyes, letting them land on you, “you know exactly what I mean, damn it—don’t act stupid,” she narrowed her eyes.

“.. I don’t,” you whisper.

“are you really that damn oblivious to your own feelings? he likes you, you like him, is it that hard to figure out?” she hissed, allowing herself to sit up—pouring a drink of water down her throat.

you gazed at her.

“like taigen? we’re.. friends, yes, but I—“

“bullshit,” she hissed. “don’t play dumb with me.”

“I-I’m not,” you murmur. how in hell were you supposed to go about this, without confessing your feelings for the samurai, and very possibly being rejected?

“you are. I can see it; and it fucking hurts, (y/n), because I have all these goddamn complicated feelings for you and i—“

mizu stopped herself.

shit.

“you… what?”

you stared at her, your eyes wide and your mouth slightly agape, as if you wanted to say something. but no words would come out. 

she decided to just own her words. they were the truth, weren’t they?

“.. you—heard me,” she narrowed her eyes a little, looking up at you.

and before she knew it; your lips were on hers.

she let out a little gasp; her blue eyes wide as the moon as she looked at you. she hadn’t been expecting anything to come of it; let alone a kiss.

her hand traveled up your back, coming to rest of the back of your neck as her eyes closed in the warm kiss.

“I-I don’t—I don’t like taigen,” you mumble against her lips, chuckling nervously.

“yeah.. I see that now.”

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

[hippopotamusdreamer]

They Were Roommates

genre. [C][F][A][AU]

warnings. None! Maybe a "damn" thrown in there

additional notes. Female! Reader | You/Your pronouns, not proofread lol

pairing. Yang Jeongin x Reader

w.c. 962

a/n. This is for Fall Cryptid season!

Kpop Masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Fall Cryptid List

You had a poltergeist problem.

Well, not really a poltergeist, it was a ghost. But you couldn’t very well say a spooky silly ghost problem because then you’d just look and sound ridiculous.

It started when you moved into a new apartment a at the beginning of the year. Rent was cheap and the housing market was the bane of your existence. It didn’t matter that someone was murdered there 10+ years ago in the heat of passion. Or that the previous owners felt like they were being watched. Which was weird because the unit was on the third floor.

And so what if you heard footsteps outside of your bedroom at like three in the morning? Who cares that all your cabinet doors were left open after you’d left for work more than once. And that chill in the air in the middle of the night? Let’s just say that the money you saved during the summer was enough to make you turn a blind eye to everything. Especially now that it was October and the autumn air was settling in.

But the one thing you’d never thought about? It never even came to mind as a possibility of happening.

A ghost getting fed up with your bullshit, so much so that he decided to APPEAR in front of you while you were crying on your couch because of your ex. And just to be clear, you were not crying because he dumped you (you dumped him). You were just so relieved that he was out of your life that the tears just wouldn’t stop coming after that.

“Are you seriously crying over that piece of shit?” An exasperated voice chastised you.

“W-what?” You hiccupped while looking up. Before you stood a transparent being. Sharp eyes that just screamed that they were judging you, and reasonably fashionable for a ghost.

“I’ve watched you day in and day out suffering at being tied down to that absolute shitshow of a guy. And now that you’ve finally gotten rid of him, I find you crying over him! Make it make sense.”

“I’m not crying over him!”

He gave you what could only be the ghost equivalent of a “Sure Jan” look.

“I’m not!”

“What are you crying for?”

The silence in the room was deafening until it wasn’t.

“OH MY-!”

“PLEASE! I SWEAR!!”

What was your life right now? Arguing with your resident ghost over you ex? A ghost that doesn’t even help you pay reeeeent to make matters worse!

“Why am I being attacked right now!?” you cried out pitifully.

“Y/N, you don’t need him in your life. Get a grip…”

“I know that! I don’t know how many times I keep telling you that I’m not crying over him.”

“Then…why are you crying?”

“I don’t…cause I’m relieved? I don’t know, I just know that it feels like a weight is off my shoulders now that he’s gone. I don’t have to walk on eggshells whenever he’s near anymore. I can finally breathe again.”

You could feel yourself relaxing into your couch now, now that this pressure was gone. You blinked and the ghost was gone from in front of you. Though from the noises coming from the kitchen behind you, you knew he didn’t go far.

From your peripheral, you could see him coming to you slowly.

‘What are you doing?” you asked with no intentions of turning to look.

“Shush, this takes a lot of concentration…”

Narrowing your eyes at his words, that did make you want to see what he was doing. “Wha…?”

“Shh…!”

“Now, hold on—”

“Wait!”

The comedic series of events was astounding. You finally decided to turn to you ghost man. Only for him to, you guess, loose concentration. And the ending result? The mug of water he was apparently bringing to you just fell out of his grip and landed all over you and the floor below you. Cue your ghost standing there like he was about to call his mom and tell her he just frew up.

Neither of you said anything as you stared down at the wet mess. At least it was water and not something hot you supposed.

“Damn Y/N, you’re so clumsy.”

You couldn’t say anything coherent, just squawked, flabbergasted at his audacity to try to put the blame on you. Then the laughing started. Laughing at the entire ordeal. Not just the water but actually meeting the ghost that haunted your apartment and not running for the hills immediately.

From the small smile on your ghost’s face, you guessed he was just trying to get you to do something other than cry your eyes out that night. Even if your clothes where caught in the crossfire.

“So, you know my name. What’s yours?” You sighed while standing to go grab something to clean up the mess.

“…Why should I tell you?”

“You literally just threw water at me. You owe me that much.”

His lips puckered knowing you had him there. After a few beats he said, “It’s Jeongin.”

“Jeongin?”

“…Yeah.”

You were too busy cleaning the floor to notice how misty eyed a ghost could get; but you were able to catch the change in his demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” You briefly glanced up at him from your crouched position as you mopped up the water with a used towel. He chewed on his bottom lip before answering.

“…It’s just been a long time since someone’s said my name out loud.”

You felt a pang in your heart at his words. Nodding, you went back to cleaning.

“Then I’ll be sure to call for you every day, Jeongin.”

“…Ok.”

And if it sounded like he was gonna cry, well you weren’t going to bring any attention to it.

This in no way reflects the actual persons involved/based in this fic, nor their actual character. This is purely fiction.

© hippopotamusdreamer, est 2024. all rights reserved.

[writing-heaven-yippee]

Jason Dean with male! reader who has internalized homophobia 

tw : cursing , internalized homophobia ( duh ) , manipulation ( ? just slightly )

> he’d probably meet you first at the cafeteria or something, you could choose really.

> doesn’t matter where he meets you though, ever since he laid his eyes on you he knew he was in love (sorry ‘ronica </3)

> he would befriend you, talking to you and whatnot. He’d try and make you slowly detach with your friends so he could have you all to himself 

> though imagine his heartbreak when he casually brings up gay people to hear you say “oh i’m fine with them but I could never be gay”

> even though it seemed pointless, he is a stubborn man. He wasn’t gonna give you up, he was gonna get you no matter what

> ( he has gotten too attached to you, he cant lose you now. )

> he slowly starts to make you get more comfortable with him, using emotional manipulation. “oh c’mon, all friends cuddle with each other. dont ya like me, darlin’ ..? that’s right, come on, I got us slushies and a movie : 3”

> Every time you said “oh thats gay” he’d retort with “so being and enjoying time with your friend is a bad thing now?” and smile to himself when you shrug it off and deal with it. 

> though you start to pull away from him. Why ? cause you were falling for your best GUY friend ( only friend at this point tbh ) and you were terrified. You couldn’t be gay, that went against [insert reasoning here, up to ya]

> and he noticed. and he was upset. very. 

“C’mon, [name]. . . you’ve been ignoring me for a while now. Do you not like me anymore. . ?” He questioned you, sitting on your bed. He had climbed through the window a bit ago, getting pretty fed up when you straight up skipped school for the third time in a row. 

“Shit man. . . I’m just conflicted and school isn’t really helping. I wanna focus on me, ya know? Not some maths exam.” You explained to him as you leaned against your desk, fiddling with a pencil in your hands. You knew that skipping school wouldn’t help anything - J.D was here anyways and once you got back you'd start worrying about all the work you missed. Oh well.

J.D pursed his lips, looking at you with a raised brow. “Cut the bullshit, [last name], what’s up? Are you avoiding anyone. . ? Is anyone messin’ with you, cause I swear to God-”

“No, no no no. No one is fucking with me, J.D. I. . . fuck, how do I say this?” You sighed, letting your pencil fell to the desk and instead rubbed your arms. 

J.D looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue speaking. “Well. . ?”

“I think I *may* . . . like. . . like you. . ?” You averted your gaze, not wanting to look him in the face. “You’re nice and stuff and I try to convince myself that there’s a girl in the world just like you but. . . I don’t want some random girl because I was you.”

J.D just stared at you, fighting back the urge to smile. “You do. .? Well gee, [last name], I like you too. ‘M glad you don’t want a girl when I’m right here.” He stood from your bed, tilting his head at you while his hands rested in his pockets. 

“You do. . ?” Damn it, you should have known he really did like you. All that shit he’s been saying and doing - how thick were you then? Your face suddenly felt hot. “I’m an idiot. . .” You murmured as you covered your face with your hands. 

“You are, but you’re now my idiot so. . .” He dragged out, his voice annoyingly yet charmingly smug. 

“Shut the fuck up, Dean.” You huffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Whatever. So we’re a thing now?” He asked, though the way he said it made it sound more like a statement than anything. 

“Uh. . yeah, I guess so.” You confirmed lightly, looking at the other with an unsure expression. You didn’t know if you could actually be in a gay relationship, but he was your friend, so you would try. 

( Little do you know that you’re now stuck with him - til death do you part )

[animamii]

This is a commissioned piece I wrote for a lovelyyyy girl!! It was soooo much fun writing this piece thank you McKayla for letting me write something I enjoyed s'much! xx

It's a best friend's brother Eren fic and I DIEDDDD writing it. I live for it! xx

It had always been McKayla and Mikasa ever since she could remember. From the moment they locked eyes at wrestling tryouts in middle school, there was an unspoken bond between them—one forged through sweat, bruises, and the quiet defiance of being the only two girls on the team. They hadn’t needed words at first, just a shared understanding. The boys underestimated them. The coaches hesitated to pair them up with male opponents, worried they’d get hurt or just simply weren't up to par. It was the same old patriarchal bullshit, and the two of them had gotten fed up with it real quick. So they trained harder, pushed each other further, and proved themselves on the mat time and time again.

"Get a load of this guy," McKayla murmured to Mikasa, her arms crossed as the two of them watched one of their teammates try to intimidate everyone else on the team, claiming he could best any one of them in a match. Beside her, Mikasa exhaled sharply, barely holding back a laugh. It was rare for her to react so openly, and McKayla grinned at the small victory. "Bet you could take him down in under a minute." McKayla smirked, nudging Mikasa with her elbow. “Actually, I bet you could take him down in under thirty seconds.”

Mikasa tilted her head, as if seriously considering the challenge. Then, with a casual shrug, she murmured, "Probably."

"Oh, you definitely could," McKayla chuckled, maybe a little too loud for the whispers they were sharing. "Like no doubt."

Mikasa’s lips twitched slightly—her version of a smirk. She couldn't even respond because as if on cue, the boy—Jackson, or maybe it was Jason? McKayla never bothered to remember names of guys who ran their mouths more than they trained—turned toward them, clearly having overheard.

“You two got something to say?” he sneered, crossing his arms and trying to crack his neck. The two girls almost exploded into laughter at how corny the kid looked trying to spook them. It was obvious in the way he forced a hard flex to try to make his arms look bigger.

McKayla barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. These guys were all the same. Big talk, little skill. McKayla opened her mouth to spit something back, but Mikasa was already stepping forward, her posture as relaxed as ever. "Yeah," she said, voice calm but firm, like she wasn’t even slightly concerned. She rolled her shoulders, loosening up like she was preparing for a casual warm-up rather than an actual match. "I think I can take you down in thirty seconds."

A chorus of 'ooooh's' spread across the gym, and McKayla had to bite back her grin. This was gonna be so damn good. Jackson-Jason scoffed, almost offended that a girl of all people would dare to challenge him. “You serious?”

Mikasa didn’t even blink. She just gave him that signature look—the blank, slightly bored stare she always had before she utterly demolished someone. “You scared?”

That was all it took. A few guys from the team started hyping up the challenge like it was the biggest fight of the year, and before long, the two of them were squaring off in the center of the mat. The coach, who had long since learned to let Mikasa and McKayla prove their points with actions rather than words, just sighed and waved for them to start.

McKayla crouched near the edge of the mat, grinning in anticipation for this ass whooping Mikasa was about to serve. “Show him what happens when you run your mouth too much, Miki.”

The match started, and it was almost laughable how unprepared Jackson-Jason was. He lunged, sloppy and overconfident, and Mikasa sidestepped effortlessly. McKayla snickered with a shake of her head. Classic. Mikasa didn’t even let him get his footing again. In a blink, she hooked his leg, twisted her body, and sent him crashing onto the mat with a loud thud. The whole gym echoed with reactions—some cheers, some laughter, a few groans of sympathy.

McKayla whooped, clapping her hands and cheering louder than the rest. “That’s my girl!” Her eyes glistened with admiration and respect as she shot Mikasa a proud, knowing smile—one filled with commendation and the unspoken promise that, no matter what, they always had each other’s backs.

Jackson-Jason struggled beneath Mikasa, thrashing in an attempt to break free, but it was utterly pointless. Mikasa had him pinned with such precision and ease that he couldn’t even register what had happened. One moment, he was trying to look tough, and the next, he was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling as Mikasa loomed over him. Her posture was perfect, her expression impassive. She wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Time?” Mikasa asked, looking toward McKayla with an unreadable glance, like she wasn’t even remotely impressed with the effort it had taken to subdue him. Her voice was steady, calm, as though she hadn’t just completely wiped the floor with someone twice her size. She didn't even break a damn sweat.

McKayla couldn't help but grin as she checked the clock and let out an exaggerated whistle. “Damn. Twenty-six seconds.” She turned back to the stunned crowd, dramatically sticking her hand out. “Pay up if you bet against her, dumbasses.”

Mikasa stood fluidly, the motion smooth as she readjusted her uniform, like she hadn’t just humiliated the guy in front of everyone. There was no swagger, no gloating or teasing—just a quiet calm that only made her more intimidating. Jackson-Jason, on the other hand, was still on the mat, groaning as he tried to catch his breath. His chest heaved up and down, each inhale ragged as if Mikasa had stolen the very air from his lungs.

McKayla’s grin only widened as she walked toward her, throwing an arm around Mikasa’s shoulders in a show of solidarity. The two of them were unstoppable together. “I swear,” McKayla muttered, shaking her head in mock disbelief, “one of these days they’ll learn.”

Mikasa’s lips quirked just the slightest, a hint of a smile that disappeared as quickly as it came. She hummed in agreement, her gaze never leaving the boys crowding around Jackson-Jason, their half-hearted attempts at offering sympathy more comical than helpful. “Doubt it,” Mikasa replied, voice flat but laced with an edge of amusement. She was so used to this—used to being underestimated, used to seeing the aftermath of her effortless victories. But the guys? They’d probably go right back to their cocky ways next practice, like nothing had happened at all.

After that, McKayla and Mikasa became inseparable. What had started as a bond of female solidarity had grown into something deeper—a flourishing friendship rooted in trust, shared experiences, and mutual respect. Mikasa, always the composed, serious one, slowly learned to loosen up around McKayla. McKayla, in turn, who had never backed down from a fight, began to think before acting—at least, sometimes. It wasn’t that she wasn’t still the same fiery spirit, but Mikasa’s calm demeanor had a way of making her think twice, especially when it came to their goals and ambitions.

Sleepovers quickly became a routine. First at McKayla’s, where the two of them would stay up late into the night, laughing about everything and nothing, practicing wrestling moves on each other until their ribs ached from laughing so hard. They were constantly getting caught by McKayla’s mom, who would yell at them to go to bed, but that never stopped them—they’d sneak under the covers and whisper more jokes until they both fell asleep.

Then, as their friendship deepened, the sleepovers moved to Mikasa’s place. And that’s when McKayla met Eren. At first, he wasn’t much of a concern. Just Mikasa’s annoying younger brother, a year younger than them. He was loud, brash, and always in trouble. McKayla would hear him in the background, a constant presence—always running his mouth, always trying to prove something, always starting some fight or another. It seemed like Eren was always sporting a scraped knee or a fresh bruise, the aftermath of some reckless stunt he’d pulled. He was the type of kid who thought he could take on the world with his fists—and, to his credit, sometimes it seemed like he could. But to McKayla, he was just an irritation. The kind of kid who was always there but never really mattered.

When they were younger, he was just a nuisance. He’d barge into Mikasa’s room when McKayla was over, demanding attention like he was the center of the universe in typical youngest brother fashion. Mikasa, ever the patient older sibling, would send him away with a few choice words, and he’d sulk in the hallway right outside of Mikasa's bedroom door, whining and complaining about how nobody took him seriously. He’d occasionally try to wrestle McKayla, all bigheaded with confidence and bravado, claiming he could take her down—but one quick move and she’d have him flipped onto the couch in seconds, laughing all the while. The whole thing was laughable. To McKayla, he was still just that scrawny little kid who didn’t have enough sense to stay out of trouble. And if there was one thing he was really good at, it was getting on McKayla’s nerves.

By high school, he’d gotten worse—cockier, reckless, even more irritating. And, of course, a complete and utter fuckboy. He had grown into his features, taller and sharper, no longer the scrawny kid she used to flick on the forehead. And worst of all? He knew it. He was aware of the effect he had on people. Especially the girls.

McKayla had watched him flirt with every girl he passed in the hallways, heard the whispers about him in between classes. He slung his arm around different girls at lunch, flashing that cocky, untouchable grin of his. A walking, talking red flag. The type of guy who seemed to think the world owed him everything, and the more he acted like it, the more girls seemed to fall for it. The kind of guy McKayla rolled her eyes at. But McKayla wasn’t impressed. She rolled her eyes at him every time he made his rounds, letting him think she didn’t see through the act. He wasn’t anything special. Just a spoiled, arrogant kid with a penchant for trouble.

Yet, no matter how irritating he got, he was still just… Eren. The one who had driven her crazy in their younger years, the one who had tried to wrestle her to the ground so many times she’d lost count. The one who, despite his annoying habits, was still just there. Mikasa's little brother. The kid she'd known forever.

Not that they ever had real conversations. Sure, they bickered every time she was over at Mikasa’s house, exchanging insults like it was a sport. Sure, he’d shoot her some smug remark when they passed each other in the halls, and she’d throw one right back. But that was just how it was.

That was just how it had always been.

Until it wasn’t.

₊˚⊹♡

It had been a year since high school graduation. One long, chaotic year. McKayla and Mikasa had both secured respective wrestling scholarships—different universities, but in the same city, just thirty minutes apart. At first, the distance didn’t seem like it would change anything. They promised to stay close, to visit often, to keep their friendship exactly as it had always been.

And for a while, they did. It started with meeting up every other day, sneaking off between classes to grab coffee or boba, ranting about professors, teammates, and the relentless grind of collegiate wrestling. But then, freshman year got hectic. Training schedules became grueling. Assignments piled up. Weekend visits turned into biweekly ones, then monthly ones. The rare moments they did spend together were sacred—long drives to meet in the middle of the city, late-night talks over FaceTime, and texts filled with inside jokes that still made them laugh even when they were buried under the stress of their new lives. Then, life did what it always did—it got in the way.

Their texts became less frequent, their calls sporadic, lasting hours when they finally found the time. And though their friendship never wavered—never could—McKayla hated it. Hated how someone who had been like a sister to her felt further and further away, even if, technically, nothing had changed. She understood, of course. This was growing up. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

But luck, or fate if you'd like, soon worked out her wish. And it was all thanks to what brought them together in the first place, wrestling. The event was buzzing with energy—an annual collegiate wrestling banquet, packed with athletes, coaches, and sports journalists. It was supposed to be an honor to be invited, a chance to celebrate their hard work and achievements, but McKayla had almost skipped it entirely. She wasn’t in the mood to sit through hours of speeches and formalities, listening to old men in suits drone on about dedication and sportsmanship. But her coach had insisted, practically dragging her there.

And damn was she glad he did. Because across the banquet hall, seated at a round table surrounded by her teammates, was Mikasa. For a second, McKayla thought she was imagining things. It had been months since they’d last seen each other in person. They still talked, sure, but phone calls and texts weren’t the same as sitting shoulder to shoulder, as hearing Mikasa’s voice without a phone speaker distorting it. But the moment their eyes met across the room, something in McKayla’s chest tightened. It was like no time had passed.

“Holy shit,” McKayla muttered, pushing through the crowd before she even realized her feet were moving. Mikasa stood up just as McKayla reached her, and then suddenly, they were hugging. Tight, like they were afraid to let go.

“You look the same,” Mikasa murmured, but there was warmth in her voice, something softer than usual. If there was one person who could get Mikasa to crack that stoic shell of hers, it was McKayla.

McKayla let out a breathless laugh, pulling back just enough to get a good look at her. “Yeah, well, you look like you could still put me in a chokehold and make me tap out in ten seconds.”

Mikasa smirked. “Five.”

"Ahhh, don't get too cocky on me now, who won the last time we sparred," McKayla bubbles, tilting her head at Mikasa with that bright look in her eyes she always had.

Mikasa’s eyes narrowed. “That was one time.”

McKayla beamed, that same bright, teasing look in her eyes. “One time is all it takes to ruin your undefeated streak, Miki.”

Mikasa exhaled through her nose, a hint of a chuckle escaping—then, without warning, she tugged McKayla back in for another hug. "Ugh, I missed you," Mikasa smiles that rare smile of hers as she tightens her grip around McKayla's shoulders.

McKayla closed her eyes for a brief second, soaking in the familiarity of it all. “Missed you too.”

For the rest of the banquet, the world faded away. They sat together, half-listening to the speeches, throwing in sarcastic comments every time one of the coaches got a little too long-winded. They caught up on everything—training, school, teammates, about how weird it was not seeing each other every day, even the dumb, mundane things that didn’t really matter but felt important because they were saying them to each other. It was effortless, slipping back into this rhythm, like the months apart had been nothing more than a small pause in an ongoing conversation. Nothing else mattered at that point, not even the awards that the two had received, McKayla almost not hearing when her name was called out for her third award.

“McKayla!” Mikasa nudged her. “That’s you.”

“Oh—shit.”

Mikasa snorted as McKayla hurried up to the stage, accepting the award with an embarrassed grin. Honestly, the awards didn’t matter. Not really. The only thing that did was this moment—the realization that no matter how much life tried to pull them in different directions, they would always, always find their way back to each other.

At some point during the banquet, amidst the chatter of other athletes and the clinking of silverware, Mikasa took a sip of her drink and tilted her head slightly. Her expression was as indistinct as ever, but McKayla knew her well enough to sense when she was about to say something important.

“Hey, listen,” Mikasa started, setting her glass down. “My parents have the beach house for the summer, but they never use it. I was thinking about staying there.” She hesitated for half a second, just long enough for McKayla to catch the weight behind her next words. “Come with me.”

McKayla blinked, caught off guard. “For the summer?”

It wasn’t like the offer was absurd. She had been to the Jaegers’ beach house countless times throughout middle and high school. It had always been their escape—a sun-soaked haven where time seemed to slow down. Days spent on the pier, sticky fingers from melting waffle cones, salty ocean air tangled in their hair and the distant scent of cotton candy and funnel cake that seemed to always waft in the air. Nights spent lying on beach towels in the sand, counting stars, watching the occasional firework explode in the sky—usually lit by Eren, who would cackle like a maniac as he sprinted down the shore before anyone could scold him. The memories hit her all at once, warm and golden in her mind, and she realized how much she missed it.

Mikasa nodded, her now softening gaze steady, her lips pulling into a rare, almost nostalgic smile. “Yeah. We’ll train, we’ll relax… get back to how things used to be.”

There was something unspoken in her voice. Something that told McKayla this wasn’t just about a summer getaway—it was about them. About reclaiming the time that college life had stolen from them. About pressing pause on the chaos and remembering what it was like to just be.

A slow smile spread across McKayla’s lips, eyes crinkling behind her glasses. “You sure you can handle me for that long?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes, letting out a scoff of a laugh. “I’ve handled you for years.” It wasn’t even a question anymore. McKayla exhaled, the weight of everything—college stress, distance, time—momentarily lifting from her shoulders.

“Alright,” she grinned, her eyes softening as she met Mikasa’s gaze. “I’m in.”

₊˚⊹♡

During the weeks leading up to summer—those final, agonizing days before freedom from collegiate responsibilities and the promise of a peaceful escape at the Jaeger beach house—McKayla found herself in near-constant contact with Mikasa. Late-night facetimes stretched on for hours, the two of them curled up in their respective dorm rooms, half-watching cheesy romcoms while sharing every ridiculous thought that crossed their minds. Texts flooded in throughout the day—updates about classes, training sessions, and, of course, commentary on the cute guys at their schools. Voice memos were the best, though—breathless recordings filled with excited rambling about summer plans, sprinkled with laughter and inside jokes that hadn’t faded despite the time apart. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was like old times again.

McKayla had nearly forgotten what it was like to have Mikasa as a constant presence in her life—the effortless ease of their conversations, the way they could fall back into sync as if no time had passed. It made her all the more eager to get to the beach house, to spend an entire summer soaking in the familiarity of their friendship, to make up for lost time.

But amidst all the excitement, there was one minor detail Mikasa had conveniently left out. It wasn’t until three days before they were set to leave that she casually mentioned it over the phone.

“Oh, and Eren’s gonna be there too,” Mikasa mumbled, voice slightly muffled—probably because her mouth was full of granola.

McKayla froze mid-scroll through her packing list. “What?” She asks as if she hadn't heard correctly. She blinks once, twice as her jaw slacks open just a little.

“He’s staying at the house for part of the summer.” Mikasa’s voice was as nonchalant as ever, like this wasn’t a bombshell of information. “He said something about working at the marina, but who knows. He might just be there to cause trouble.” The last time McKayla had saw Eren was graduation, when he showed up to cheer his sister on, and dab smack both girls with hands full of shaving cream, laughing like an absolute menace as he bolted across the field.

McKayla groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. “Great. So much for a relaxing summer, huh? Now I gotta deal with the nuisance."

Mikasa snorted. “Just don’t let him get under your skin.” Mikasa, as much as she got annoyed by her younger brother, always found entertainment in the bickering between Eren and McKayla. She was glad he'd bother and annoy someone other than herself. it was like a shared burden.

McKayla scoffed. “He’s been getting under my skin since I was thirteen, Mikasa. Pretty sure it’s his life’s mission.”

And God, was that the truth. A flood of memories reeled through her mind—Eren hiding her glasses, tying her shoelaces together when she wasn’t looking, drawing on her face when she fell asleep during movie nights. The pranks. The relentless teasing. The way he always had that damn grin whenever he got a rise out of her.

She could practically hear Mikasa’s amused smile through the phone. “You’ll survive.” McKayla wasn’t so sure about that. Eren had always been the obnoxious little brother up until the very end. It made her dread seeing the boy again. Made her think of the last real conversation they had.

“You’re still wrestling, huh?” he mused one afternoon, leaning against the doorway of Mikasa’s room, arms crossed like he had nowhere better to be. His tone was casual, but there was always something else behind his words—something teasing, something challenging. “Kinda surprised you haven’t dropped it yet.”

McKayla sat on the edge of the bed, lacing up her sneakers, getting ready for the midday run she and Mikasa had planned to keep up their conditioning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she muttered, not bothering to look up as she tugged the laces tight.

Eren shrugged, ever the picture of casual arrogance. “I dunno. Figured you’d get sick of rolling around on the mat with a bunch of sweaty guys by now.”

McKayla scoffed, finally looking up at him. There it was. That infuriating smirk, like he was waiting for her reaction. He was always waiting for her reaction. “Right," she deadpanned, "because you totally know what it’s like to have discipline and an actual work ethic.”

That should’ve shut him up. But, of course, it didn’t. Eren’s smirk widened like she’d just handed him an opening on a silver platter.

“I know what it’s like to have people under me,” he chuckled, voice dripping with that obnoxious confidence. “Same thing.”

McKayla’s brain short-circuited for exactly two seconds. Her fingers went slack against her shoe, her mouth parting slightly as she registered exactly what he was implying. Her jaw clenched, ready to snap back with something just as sharp, something that would wipe that self-satisfied look off his face—

But before she could get a word out, Mikasa’s voice cut through the air. Mikasa appeared at the doorway herself, huffing a little from the pushups she always did before her run. "Hurry your ass up, McKayla. We got some running to do."

And with that Eren just smirked and pushed himself off of the doorway, waltzing back to his bedroom, having felt some sense of weird accomplishment and satisfaction by leaving McKayla speechless like that.

₊˚⊹♡

The salty ocean breeze hit McKayla the second she stepped out of her car, the distant crash of waves mixing with the warm hum of cicadas in the trees. She stretched her arms over her head, groaning in relief after the long drive. The Jaegers' beach house stood just ahead, perched on the sandy dunes like something out of a postcard—familiar and nostalgic, yet still carrying the weight of summers past. All of the memories she made here alongside her best friend.

It had been years since she’d been here. Since late-night bonfires and sticky fingers from melted popsicles. Since her and Mikasa sneaking out to the pier and daring each other to jump into the cold water. Since Eren running around like a little shit, lighting fireworks in places he absolutely shouldn’t.

McKayla sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. It was going to be a good summer. A peaceful one. The sun was already radiating that golden warmth that made her want to sprawl out on the hammock in the front yard and let the ocean lull her to sleep.

She grabbed her bags from the car and made her way up the wooden steps to the house, the screen door creaking as she pushed it open. The air inside was cool, carrying the faint scent of sunscreen and sea salt. That familiar and nostalgic scent she had always loved about the place. She expected to find Mikasa waiting for her, maybe already setting up in the kitchen or lounging on the couch.

Instead, she was met with something else. Or rather—someone else.

Eren Jaeger. Shirtless. And dripping wet.

“What the—” McKayla nearly dropped her bag as Eren came strolling in from the back deck, a beach towel draped lazily around his shoulders, chocolate brown hair damp and curling at the ends. His dark sage colored eyes flickered up at her, and then, as if it had been perfectly rehearsed, that mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice way deeper than she remembered. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

McKayla’s entire body tensed as she pinched the bridge of her nose like a sudden headache had appeared. “No. No way.” She turned toward the door shaking her head, already regretting everything. “Mikasa didn’t say you’d be here yet.”

Eren leaned casually against the kitchen counter, completely unbothered. “Didn’t know I needed to run my schedule by my sister or you, McKayla.” He lifted a brow, the corner of his mouth pulling up into half of a smirk. “What, you missed me or something?”

She groaned, walking past him to drop her bags in the living room. “Yeah, like I miss food poisoning.” Rolling her eyes so hard it almost strains them.

Eren chuckled, rubbing the towel through his hair before tossing it over one of the kitchen chairs. “Damn. You wound me.”

McKayla huffed, crossing her arms as she turned back to him. “Just stay out of my way, Jaeger.”

Eren simply smirked, “Can’t make any promises, sweetheart.”

McKayla rolled her eyes once more, collapsing onto the recliner with a dramatic sigh. She was exhausted from the drive, and now she had to deal with this. It was bad enough when he was younger, but now? Now he was taller, like half a foot taller, and had somehow grown into all that dumb confidence he used to throw around. And worse—he still knew exactly how to get under her skin.

“You staying the whole summer?” she asked, already bracing for the answer.

Eren stretched, the muscles in his back shifting as he walked toward the fridge. “Most of it,” he replied, grabbing a beer and popping the cap off with his thumb. “Gotta make sure you don’t get too bored, right?” Waltzing back to the couch, he throws himself on it, kicking his feet up. McKayla exhaled sharply through her nose. This summer was going to be hell.

Just don't let him get under your skin. Mikasa's words ring through her head, making her tenseness relax just a tiny bit. If Eren planned on being a nuisance, she was going to be one right back. Eyeing him sipping a beer, she forms a smirk of her own. "Are you even old enough to be drinking?"

Eren’s lips were already around the bottle when she spoke, and he froze for just a second before lowering it with an incredulous scoff. His dark sage green eyes flicked to hers, surprise and a hint of amusement glinting in them.

“Cute,” he said, tilting the bottle toward her in a mock toast before taking another swig. “I’m twenty, McKayla. Not a kid anymore.”

Setting her feet up on the edge of the coffee table, she crosses her arms. “Funny, you still act like one.”

Eren let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he stretched out on the couch like he owned the place. “And you still act like you’ve got a stick up your ass.”

McKayla exhaled sharply, settling deeper into the recliner as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, well, maybe if you weren’t so damn insufferable, I’d loosen up,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eren’s smirk only widened, his sharp green eyes gleaming with something infuriatingly smug. He leaned in just slightly, resting his forearm on his knee as he watched her with the kind of confidence that made her want to smack him. “Oh?” he mused, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between them feel heavier. “So you just need the right person to loosen you up? Say the word, sweetheart, I’d be happy to help.”

McKayla’s stomach did a strange little flip at the huskiness in his voice, but she immediately smothered it beneath a thick layer of annoyance. She rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “You’re disgusting,” she muttered, shaking her head as she fixed her gaze anywhere but on the way his lips curled up at the edges.

Eren let out a low, amused chuckle, leaning back against the couch with the easy kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly how to get under her skin. He propped his beer bottle on his knee, studying her like he had all the time in the world. “You missed me.”

McKayla scoffed, lifting a brow as she met his gaze. “Like a hole in the head.” She put two fingers up to her temple, flicking her thumb as if setting a gun in motion.

Eren hummed as if considering her answer, but the cocky glint in his eyes told her he didn’t believe her for a damn second. He took another slow sip of his beer, hooded gaze still lazily fixed on her. “Mikasa said you’ve been busy,” he commented, feigning casual interest. “School. Wrestling. College boys.”

McKayla narrowed her eyes slightly at that last part, noting the way he tossed it in so effortlessly, like he wasn’t fishing for a reaction. She leaned back in the chair, tilting her head as she met his gaze. “Why do you care?”

Eren shrugged, a lazy grin playing at his lips as he rolled the bottle between his fingers. “I don’t.”

McKayla snorted, shaking her head. Classic Eren—always keeping things at arm’s length, never letting anything get too deep. It was honestly impressive how committed he was to being a perpetual pain in the ass.

She stretched her legs out, flexing her sore muscles from the long drive. “So, what’s your plan this summer?” she asked, keeping her tone neutral. “Besides being a menace to society.”

Eren tipped his head toward the open patio doors, where the sky was bleeding gold and pink over the endless stretch of ocean. “Got a job at the marina,” he said, his voice a little smoother now, a little more casual. “Fixing boats, renting jet skis, shit like that. Pays decent.”

McKayla blinked, momentarily caught off guard. That… actually sounded like responsibility. Effort. Growth.

“You?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. She quickly narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “Working an actual job?”

Eren’s smirk returned, full force. “Surprised?”

“Shocked,” she corrected, pressing a hand to her chest in exaggerated disbelief. “Who are you, and what have you done with Eren?”

Eren let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying this far too much. He took a slow sip of his beer before dragging his gaze down her, lingering in a way that made heat prickle at the back of her neck before finally meeting her eyes again. “Still me, sweetheart,” he murmured. His voice was smooth, confident, and entirely too self-satisfied. “Just older. Smarter. Hotter.”

McKayla clenched her jaw as she fought the ridiculous warmth rising in her chest. She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter over herself like that would somehow deflect the way his voice had sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. “Still full of yourself, I see.”

Eren tilted his head, considering her for half a second before flashing a grin that was all teeth and trouble. “And yet, you’re still sitting here,” he pointed out with a tilt of his beer bottle, his voice teasing. “Talking to me.”

McKayla let out a long, slow and exaggerated breath through her nose, pressing her fingers to her temples like he was physically giving her a headache. She abruptly pushed herself up from the recliner, already done with this conversation. “I’m going to unpack and wait for Mikasa before I walk off the pier into the ocean to get away from your insufferable ass.”

Eren chuckled, watching her with childish amusement as she stormed toward the hallway. “Try not to miss me too much, McKayla,” he called after her.

Without looking back, she lifted her hand and flipped him off over her shoulder. "Fuck off, Eren." Eren’s laughter followed her all the way down the hall, low and smug, the sound settling under her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

McKayla clenched her jaw as she pushed open the door to the guest room she always claimed, tossing her bag onto the bed with a little more force than necessary. God, it had been less than an hour, and he was already driving her insane. It wasn’t just that he was still cocky—she’d expected that. It was the way he wielded it now, all smooth charm and easy confidence, like he knew exactly how to push her buttons. Like he knew how to get in her head in a way he never had before.

Because he was different. And she hated how she noticed it too. Noticed the way he’d filled out, how his shoulders were broader than they used to be. Noticing the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his hair fell in messy strands around his face when he pushed it back. Noticing the way his voice had settled into something deeper. Still an absolute pain in her ass, but somehow worse now that he wasn’t just the annoying little brother of her best friend.

It was fucking annoying. And yet, it was hard to ignore. She tried. She really did. She sighed, raking a hand through her hair before flopping onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe if she just ignored him, he’d get bored and find someone else to bother. Yeah, right. Eren Jaeger didn’t get bored of things that entertained him. And unfortunately, she’d always been his favorite pastime.

The sound of tires crunching over the gravel driveway pulled McKayla from her thoughts. She sat up, glancing toward the opened window just as a familiar black SUV rolled into the driveway. Finally. A rush of relief washed over her as she hopped off the bed, eager for the one person who could make Eren’s presence more bearable. She didn’t even wait for Mikasa to make it to the front door before yanking it open and stepping onto the porch.

Mikasa climbed out of the driver’s seat, looking effortlessly cool as always in a pair of denim shorts and a cropped black tank that showed off the belly piercing McKayla had given her at one of their sleepovers junior year. Her dark hair was still cut to its infamous choppy bob, although now crimped and wavier, a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head. The moment she spotted McKayla, that rare, soft smile tugged at her lips.

“Took you long enough,” McKayla teased, stepping down the creaky wooden steps to meet her, gravel shifting under her sandals.

Mikasa rolled her eyes fondly before pulling her into a firm hug. “Traffic,” she murmured against her shoulder, squeezing once before pulling back. “You made it in one piece?”

“Barely,” McKayla deadpanned, jerking a thumb toward the house. “No thanks to your idiot brother.”

Mikasa’s gaze flicked over McKayla’s shoulder toward the open door. “He’s here already?” Mikasa was a tad bit shocked, her brother was never one to show up on time. Like at all.

McKayla nodded grimly. “And he’s somehow even more annoying now.”

Mikasa exhaled a soft laugh through her nose, shaking her head as she grabbed a duffel bag from the trunk. “Guess some things never change.” Before McKayla could respond, the screen door creaked open behind her.

“Is that my big sister?” Eren’s voice was drenched in playful annoyance, and when McKayla turned, she saw him leaning against the doorframe, that same damn smirk on his face. He’d thrown on a shirt at some point—black and fitted, maybe a little too fitted—but his hair was still damp, a few strands sticking to his forehead.

Mikasa’s expression remained neutral as she grabbed another bag and walked past McKayla toward the porch. “Eren,” she greeted flatly.

Eren pushed off the doorframe, arms stretching above his head as his tall self held onto the top of the doorframe. McKayla was right, it was just a little too fitted of a shirt, with the tee riding up to show a now prominent v-line. “Missed you too, sis.”

McKayla swore she saw Mikasa’s lips twitch, just slightly, before she brushed past him into the house. Eren’s gaze flicked to McKayla then, full of barely contained mischief.

“Glad to see you didn’t actually throw yourself off the pier,” he teased as he grabbed one of Mikasa's dozens of bags.

McKayla narrowed her eyes at him, picking up some grocery bags Mikasa had brought. “The summer’s still young.” Eren just chuckled, shaking his head before following Mikasa inside. McKayla sighed, trailing behind them. At least with Mikasa here, she wouldn’t have to suffer alone. Hopefully. Although the air instantly felt a little lighter now that she wasn’t alone with Eren’s insufferable ass.

Mikasa had already started unpacking in the kitchen, pulling out snacks and drinks from her bag like she was preparing for a long haul. McKayla leaned against the counter, watching as she meticulously arranged things in the cabinets. There was one thing about Mikasa, she liked things in a certain order that no one dared to mess up.

“Please tell me you brought alcohol,” McKayla said, only half-joking. Actually no, she wasn't joking. She knew she'd need some type of drink to mellow her out before Eren started to irritate her again. Nothing extreme, but just something to settle her nerves that Eren was surely going to get on at one point or another.

Mikasa didn’t even look up as she smirked. “Did you really think I’d show up empty-handed?” She reached into one of the bags and pulled out a bottle of vodka, setting it on the counter with a quiet but heavy clink.

McKayla sighed dramatically, a dreamy tone to her voice. “This is why you’re my favorite.” She wasn't much of a drinker, not at all really, but McKayla didn't mind taking a shot or two with her best friend. She just,,. knew her limits after one sleepover senior year where they 'practiced' getting drunk for parties. The hangover next day was not worth it in the end.

“I thought I was your favorite,” Eren chimed in from the living room, scrolling through his phone with a blue raspberry otter pop hanging from his teeth. McKayla could hear the slurps he was making as he tried to suck all of the juice from the plastic tube. Turning her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder. He was sprawled out on the couch, long legs kicked up on the coffee table like he didn’t have a care in the world. Which he never did, honestly.

“You thought wrong,” she shot back, pushing her eyebrows together in faux annoyance. It did soften her up a bit to see that he still ate his otter pops the same back before he actually turned into a nuisance. Back when he was just Mikasa's little brother who liked to be included in whatever the two girls did.

Eren pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense as he sat up. “Harsh, sweetheart.” Then she got brought back to the realization that Eren Jaeger was now a pain in the ass.

Mikasa, unfazed as ever, merely grabbed three shot glasses from the cabinet and set them on the counter. “You two haven’t changed at all,” she muttered.

McKayla huffed, brushing her curls out of her face. “Tell that to him.” She nods towards Eren, who was still trying to finish his popsicle.

Eren grinned as he made his way to where the girls stood against the kitchen island. “What can I say? I like keeping things interesting.”

"More like keeping things annoying," McKayla muttered as she rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time.

Mikasa ignored both of them, pouring out three shots before sliding one in McKayla’s direction and another toward Eren. “Truce,” she said simply, raising her own glass.

McKayla eyed Eren warily, as if even agreeing to this would somehow give him the upper hand. His glossed eyes met hers across the kitchen island, and for once, there wasn’t anything cocky in his expression. Just something calm, something that made her stomach flip before she could stomp the feeling down. It felt fucking unusual.

“Truce,” Eren said easily, lifting his glass that seemed to look tiny in his large hands.

McKayla sighed, rolling her eyes one last time before finally relenting. “Fine. Truce.”

They clinked their glasses together before tossing back the shots. The vodka burned on the way down, sharp and warm with the same taste she hated, but McKayla welcomed the distraction. Maybe it would make those weird feelings in her stomach go away.

Eren set his glass down first, his tongue darting out to swipe a stray drop from his lip. “Now that that’s settled,” he said, flashing his signature pearly grin, “who’s ready to hit the beach?”

The vodka sat warm in McKayla’s stomach as the three of them made their way down to the beach, the sun hanging low in the sky, the clear blue of the sunny daytime turning into swirls of orange and purples over the waves. The sand was soft and familiar beneath her bare feet, the distant sound of seagulls mixing with the rhythmic lulling crash of the ocean.

Mikasa walked ahead, her expression as stoic as ever, while Eren strolled beside McKayla, far too comfortable in his own skin. He had changed into a loose tank top and board shorts, the fabric of his shirt hanging low enough to hint at the defined muscles underneath. McKayla hated that she noticed. Like really hated it. She inhaled deeply, focusing on the nostalgia of the beach instead of the way too grown-up version of Eren walking beside her.

“I bet you’ve missed this,” Mikasa said, looking back at McKayla as she tilted her face toward the sky, inhaling deeply as the salty breeze lifted strands of her dark hair. The air was still warm, the breeze blanketing them with a soft gust of heat.

McKayla followed her lead, taking a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of the ocean settle something restless inside her. “Yeah, I have,” she admitted, her lips curving into a small, wistful smile. “It’s been too long.” Things looked so different but still the same. The palm trees still held the blue hammock but looked old and tilted. The neighbor's beach house had changed color, now a washed yellow instead of blue. But the beach was still the beach, still the same sand her and Mikasa would chase each other through.

The sound of sand shifting behind her was the only warning before Eren nudged her elbow with his own, just hard enough to be irritating. “Admit it,” he drawled in a low voice, just low enough for her alone to hear, mischief dancing in his sea green eyes. “You missed me too.”

McKayla didn’t bother looking at him. Instead, she swatted his arm away without hesitation, her fingers briefly grazing the warmth of his skin. “Didn’t we call a truce?” she reminded him, arching a brow as her glasses lowered just a bit. “You’re already breaking it.”

Eren’s low chuckle vibrated in his chest as he ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, tousling the dark brown strands. He looked every bit the troublemaker she remembered—only now it was laced with confidence, less reckless, and more knowing. “What’s a truce without a little fun?” he mused, smirking as if he knew exactly how to get under her skin in a different way than he used to.

McKayla gave him a sidelong glance, narrowing her eyes. “Fun for who?” The warm summer breeze fanned through her hair, dark cinnamon curls swirling around her tan skin.

Eren’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping just enough to make her stomach clench. “Me, mostly.”

She groaned, picking up her pace to put some distance between them, but he just fell into step beside her again, effortlessly keeping up. His presence was an annoying heat at her side, his smug energy practically radiating off him. Mikasa, ever the silent observer, simply shook her head, barely hiding her amusement. With a small smirk ghosting her lips, she veered off toward the water, her hands slipping into the pockets of her hoodie.

The shoreline stretched endlessly before them, the waves rolling in with lazy repeated ease, their white froth dissolving into the wet sand. The ocean smelled exactly the same—salt, sun, and something faintly like lush greenery, like a nostalgic memory brought back to life. Mikasa was the first to step forward, wading into the water until the cool foam curled around her ankles. She stood still, watching the horizon as if lost in thought, the sea breeze teasing loose strands of her chopped dark hair.

McKayla lingered just at the edge, the damp sand molding around her bare feet, pulling her deeper into the earth with each passing wave. A slow exhale left her lips. It really had been too long since she’d been here—since things had felt this simple, this easy. No looming assignments, no stress, no expectations. Just the sound of the water and the weight of familiarity settling over her like a well-worn hoodie.

Then, just as she was about to close her eyes and soak in the moment—a pair of strong arms hooked around her waist. McKayla barely had time to yelp before she was lifted clean off her feet, her stomach flipping as the world tilted.

“Eren— don’t you dare—”

Too late.

With a wicked laugh, Eren swung her around once before tossing her straight into the ocean. The cold water swallowed her whole, shocking her system as she hit the surface with a loud splash. For a split second, all she could hear was the muffled rush of the waves around her, the sting of saltwater in her nose. Then, with a sputtering gasp, McKayla broke through the surface, hair slicked against her face, water dripping from her lashes. The moment her senses realigned she heard it—bellowing laughter. Eren was laughing.

Doubling over, hands on his knees, completely unbothered by the absolute rage building in McKayla’s chest. His laughter rang loud and unrestrained, full of pure, unrepentant joy. The kind of laugh that made it painfully obvious he had no regrets. Not in the slighest. Ohh was he gonna regret it alright.

McKayla’s chest rose and fell, her fingers twitching at her sides as fury built, hot and unchecked. She shoved her soaked hair back, her glare cutting straight through him like a blade. Her glasses were now covered in water droplets, streaking down and leaving her vision muddled. Taking them off, she tried to clean them as best she could, but wiping them against her drenched bathing suit had barely helped.

“Oh, you’re dead,” she gritted her teeth, shoving her water splotched glasses back onto her face as she started to trudge through the heavy waves of the water.

Eren barely had time to register the threat before his instincts kicked in. One glance at her expression—murderous, determined, downright vengeful—and he was already moving. He already knew McKayla could kick his ass if she really wanted to. Eren took one look at her furious expression and bolted.

McKayla surged out of the water, sprinting after him with all the speed she had built up from years of Muy Thai and MMA. The sand gave slightly beneath her feet, slowing her just enough to make the chase frustrating, but Eren was quick, damn his long ass legs.

A few strides ahead, he glanced back over his shoulder, his grin infuriatingly smug. “Gotta be faster than that, sweetheart,” he called, his voice infuriatingly light, the taunting only fueling McKayla even more. McKayla’s entire body burned—not just from exertion, but from sheer, blistering indignation. And saltwater.

Mikasa, standing off to the side like a spectator at a sporting event, watched the scene unfold with the barest hint of amusement. She made no move to interfere. She never did when it came to Eren and McKayla's bickering. It was all too entertaining for her.

McKayla dug her heels into the sand, her muscles coiling like a spring before she exploded forward. The years of training, of drilling takedowns and footwork into muscle memory, kicked in effortlessly. Eren was quick for sure, his strides long and fluid, but McKayla had something he didn’t—precision and practice. He was running on pure instinct, dodging around driftwood and patches of uneven sand, but she was calculating every step, reading his movements like a predator tracking its prey.

And just as he dared to glance back again—she pounced. McKayla lunged, her fingers curling into the back of his shirt as she tackled him with full force. A startled grunt escaped Eren as his balance shattered, his feet slipping out from under him. For a split second, they were weightless—then they hit the sand in a tangled heap, rolling from the momentum.

Eren twisted at the last second, his muscles straining as he tried to recover, but McKayla was already a step ahead. Her movements were swift and precise, honed from years of experience, and before he could counter, she had him pinned. She straddled his waist, knees digging into the sand on either side of his hips, her palms pressing into his chest. Her breath came in short, exhilarated bursts, her chest rising and falling as she grinned down at him, triumphant. The wind whipped through her damp hair, curly strands sticking to her flushed cheeks, but she didn’t care.

“Gotcha,” she panted, her voice laced with sweet satisfaction.

Eren blinked up at her, his chest rising and falling beneath her palms. For the first time, he actually looked a little impressed—though, of course, he’d never admit it.

“That was a cheap shot,” he huffed, but the grin playing on his lips gave him away.

McKayla raised an eyebrow, still catching her breath. “You threw me into the ocean, Jaeger.”

“Fair point,” he smiled up at her as he tilted his head back into the sand.

Before she could react, his hands shot up, fingers gripping her waist with startling ease. And in one swift but sloppy motion, he flipped them, rolling her onto her back as his body caged hers against the sand.

McKayla gasped, the sudden shift stealing the air from her lungs. The coarse grains of sand clung to her damp skin, the cool evening breeze sending a shiver down her spine. Eren’s weight settled over her, not crushing but present—just enough to keep her in place, just enough to make her heartbeat stutter.

His face hovered inches above hers, close enough that she could see the tiny droplets of sweat clinging to his forehead, the way his dark hair curled slightly at the ends from the saltwater. A single bead of sweat traced a slow, deliberate path down the sharp edge of his cheekbone, disappearing beneath his jaw. The teasing look in his eyes softened, something deeper threading beneath the playful mischief—something that made her pulse drum a little harder against her chest. McKayla swallowed hard, heat rising to her face despite the cool ocean air. The tension between them shifted—still playful, but heavier now, laced with something neither of them acknowledged out loud.

Eren’s lips twitched into a side smile. “Still think you’ve got me?”

McKayla smirked, masking the way her stomach clenched at the huskiness in his voice. She didn’t give herself time to think—hesitation had never been her strong suit. With a quick, calculated shift of her hips, she tightened her legs around his waist and twisted, using his own momentum against him. Eren barely had time to grunt in surprise before he was flat on his back again, arms splayed out, McKayla victorious above him once more.

Eren groaned, dragging a hand through his salt-soaked hair before letting his head fall back against the sand. “I hate that you’re better at this than me.”

She let out a breathless, triumphant laugh, her hands braced on his chest once again. “Maybe don’t pick fights you can’t win.”

His eyes flickered over her face, lingering just a beat too long. Then, with a slow, lazy smirk, he drawled, “Wanna bet?”

McKayla’s stomach flipped. It was something in the way that he said those words that made her brain short circuit for a moment. McKayla didn’t have time to think before Eren moved again. One second, he was flat on his back, looking every bit like he had accepted his defeat, and the next, he surged up, twisting their bodies so fast that McKayla barely had time to register the shift before she was on her back again, grainy sand pressing into her shoulders.

Eren grinned down at her, breathless but undeniably smug. “See? I can win.”

McKayla narrowed her eyes, her chest rising and falling in uneven beats as she studied him. His hair was still damp from the ocean now mixed with the sweat from his exhaustion, messy strands clinging to his forehead, and the way the early moonlight caught in his eyes made them look impossibly bright.

“Pretty sure I took you down first,” she shot back, voice laced with defiance.

Eren’s smirk deepened. “Pretty sure I just flipped you again.” His voice was low, a teasing edge curling around the words, but there was something else beneath the bravado—something indecipherable in the way his gaze flickered over her face, then lower, down to her parted lips, lingering for just a second too long before snapping back up. The weight of him above her was impossible to ignore. Neither of them moved.

The waves crashed somewhere behind them, the salty breeze cooling the heat between their bodies, but McKayla barely noticed. Because suddenly, all she could focus on was how close he was. How she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers, the lingering warmth of his hands where they had grabbed at her waist, the sharp contrast of his body heat against the cool sand beneath her.

His gaze dipped again, lower this time, trailing down the column of her throat before settling on her mouth. McKayla’s breath caught in her throat. Eren wasn’t laughing anymore. Instead, he was deep in thought, his fern green eyes grazing over her in a way she had never seen him do before. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her fingers twitching against the sand, torn between shoving him off and pulling him closer.

And then—

“Are you two done?”

Mikasa’s voice cut through the moment like a knife, cool and unimpressed like it always is. It knocked the two of them out of whatever trance they were just consumed in. McKayla jolted like she’d been electrocuted, pulse lurching as reality crashed back into her like a wave. Eren blinked, his expression shifting so fast it almost gave her whiplash—gone was the quiet intensity, replaced with something more familiar. Cocky. Amused. Infuriatingly casual.

“Enjoying the view, Mikasa?” he shot back smoothly, eyes still glued to McKayla and making no move to get off her, his smirk downright insufferable as he kept McKayla pinned beneath him.

McKayla groaned, planting both hands against his chest and shoving hard. “Get off, idiot.”

Eren let her push him away this time, rolling onto his back with a low chuckle, arms stretching lazily behind his head like he hadn’t just been a second away from—what? Kissing her?

McKayla pushed herself up, brushing sand off her damp skin, her heart still hammering harder than she wanted to admit. She stole a quick glance at Eren, but he was already smirking at her again, like he knew exactly what she was thinking. And that only made her want to tackle him again.

Mikasa sighed, stepping closer, arms crossed over her chest in that way that meant her patience was running thin. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Eren grinned up at his sister. “Yeah, but at least I’m winning.”

McKayla scoffed, pushing herself to her feet and shaking out her hair before fixing him with a challenging look. “Winning what, exactly? Because I’m pretty sure you ran like a little bitch before I caught you.” Eren’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second—so brief that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But McKayla did.

Mikasa exhaled slowly, the universal sign of her tolerance wearing dangerously thin. “Can we go eat now, or do you two need to roll around in the sand a little longer?” She lifted a finger, doing a little twirl of a circle at the two.

McKayla’s stomach growled before she could form a comeback, the traitorous sound making Eren snicker. With a dramatic sigh, she shot him one last glare before turning toward the beach house. “Fine. But this isn’t over, Jaeger.”

Eren let out a low chuckle, standing up and dusting the sand off his abs—abs that McKayla pointedly did not look at. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

She flipped him off over her shoulder as she turned to head back to the beach house. McKayla felt Eren’s eyes on her as she walked away, the weight of his gaze making the back of her neck tingle. She kept her pace steady, refusing to acknowledge the way her heart had picked up speed. She’d gotten under his skin today—that was clear. But for some reason, it felt different this time. The usual irritation she felt toward him was mixed with something else... something she wasn’t ready to name or even acknowledge.

Mikasa walked beside her, nonchalant as always, though the faintest curve of her lips suggested she’d noticed the shift. "Had fun rolling in the sand with my brother?" Mikasa's eyes flitted back to Eren, who was trailing behind as he kicked the sand with each apathetic step.

McKayla, whose head was turned toward the wavering ocean, widened her eyes. She blinked an unamused expression onto her face before she turned to Mikasa. "Oh totally," she started, her voice laced with sarcasm, "I loved spending my first day back being tossed into freezing water then being wrestled into the sand. Perfect start to my summer." A bubbly chuckle left her chest as she nudged Mikasa with her shoulder.

"Mmm I can tell, sure seemed like it when you stayed pinned under him. I know you coulda got out of it sooner than you did," Mikasa's eyes sweep over McKayla. She knew McKayla was going easy on her brother, Eren was strong, sure, but Mikasa knew McKayla had enough power and experience under her belt to have gotten out of the situation.

All McKayla could do was scoff and roll her eyes. "Don't even joke like that, Mik. You're gonna make me gag." A pointed finger went up to her mouth as she stuck her tongue out and pretended to vomit. McKayla’s fake gagging noise did little to deter the knowing look in Mikasa’s eyes. She didn’t push it, though, just shook her head with the smallest smirk as they reached the back deck of the beach house.

The old wooden steps of the deck creak as the girls make their way up, the cool evening breeze rolling in with each crash of the ocean waves. McKayla shook out her damp hair, still brushing stubborn grains of sand off her arms. Behind them, Eren followed at a leisurely pace, dragging his fingers through his unruly hair as if he wasn’t the reason she looked like she’d just survived a natural disaster. Mikasa opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside first, heading straight for the kitchen like she hadn’t just witnessed her best friend nearly combust under her brother.

McKayla trailed behind, resisting the urge to glance back at Eren again. She could still feel the weight of his body against hers, the heat that had coiled low in her stomach when his gaze lingered a second too long. The whole thing had been stupid. Just another round of their never-ending battle. So why did she feel so rattled?

As she entered the kitchen, she beelined for the fridge, the cool air washing over her flushed skin as she grabbed a water bottle. Twisting off the cap, she took a long sip, trying to drown the lingering heat in her chest. Trying to drown any unneeded thoughts or feelings that involved her best friend's younger brother. That involved Eren.

Eren leaned back against the counter a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, looking far too smug for someone who’d lost their little wrestling match. “What, no victory speech?” he teased, tilting his head.

McKayla lowered the water bottle, narrowing her eyes. “Please. You don’t deserve one after that cheap move at the end.”

“Cheap?” He placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “That was pure skill, sweetheart.” Skill? That's what he wanted to call it? McKayla snorted, almost choking on some water as she let out her sarcastic laugh.

Mikasa, who had been rummaging through the cabinets, turned back toward them, with a disinterested arch of her brow. “If you two are gonna keep flirting, at least do it quietly.”

McKayla spluttered and coughed, shaking her head. “We’re not—”

“—not flirting,” Eren finished at the same time, but his voice was laced with laughter and enjoyment, like he wasn’t even trying to deny it. Like it was something he liked to entertain the idea of.

Mikasa just sighed and grabbed a bowl of leftover fruit salad from the fridge. “Uh huh. Anyway, I’m taking this upstairs. Don’t kill each other.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving McKayla alone with Eren in the dimly lit kitchen. The silence stretched between them; you could almost hear crickets it was so quiet. The air felt heavier now, the only sounds coming from the distant crash of waves and the hum of the refrigerator, which for some reason sounded louder than it did when Mikasa was in the kitchen with them. McKayla swallowed, her pulse doing an annoying little stutter as she finally looked at him—really looked at him.

His skin was still kissed by salt and sun, all golden and tan. The angles of his face looking sharper in the soft glow of the kitchen's amber lighting. Hair shaggy and messy in a way that suited his boyishness. His lips were parted slightly, like he had something to say but hadn’t decided if it was worth saying.

McKayla exhaled sharply, finally breaking the way too awkward silence that sat between them, shoving the bottle onto the counter with more force than necessary. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Eren smiled, eyes moving from his fidgeting hands up to McKayla's exasperated expression. “Yeah?”

She rolled her eyes, irritably tapping the counter with an annoyed smile on her face. “Yeah.” It honestly made her sick to her stomach that someone she found so annoying, so irritating could make her have butterflies. Of all people to give her butterflies it had to be Eren freaking Jaeger.

He pushed off the counter then, closing the space between them in two slow, deliberate steps. McKayla’s breath hitched, her back bumping against the edge of the island as he stopped just in front of her. Too close. Or maybe not close enough.

“You gonna tackle me again?” he murmured, voice lower now, laced with that familiar teasing tone, underlying with something McKayla couldn't quite place her finger on. Although Eren wasn't wearing that usual cocky smirk of his, his face looked serious, and if McKayla wasn't too focused on the way her heart was literally trying to thump its way out of her chest, she'd see the hidden look of need that his eyes held.

McKayla lifted her chin, refusing to back down. Refusing to let herself feel whatever the hell it was she felt in her chest. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second. Then his eyes flickered down—to her lips, lingering there like he was weighing a decision. And then, before she could process it, before she could even think about stopping it—Eren leaned in.

It wasn’t hesitant or unsure. It was the kind of kiss that had been threatening to happen for far too long, a collision of frustration and curiosity, of something unspoken finally breaking free. Years of unrealized pining and hidden feelings that had formed into angst. His lips brushed against hers once, then again, firmer this time, testing the waters. And when McKayla didn’t pull away—when she exhaled against his mouth like she’d been holding her breath all night and had finally felt relief—Eren pressed in, his hands bracing against the counter on either side of her, caging her in.

McKayla’s fingers twitched against the cool surface behind her. She should push him away. She should remind him that this was a bad idea, that they were nothing but bad timing and bickering and unresolved tension wrapped in pretty packaging. But then he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and every rational thought she had unraveled like sand slipping through her fingers. Her hands found his waist, then the planes of his back, fingers curling slightly as she kissed him back, matching his intensity as she finally gave in and melted into the moment. The warmth of his skin under her fingertips sent a slow, burning heat curling through her veins.

Eren made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, something between satisfaction and surprise, and it sent a sharp thrill through McKayla’s chest. He hadn’t expected her to kiss him back like this. Good, keep him on his toes. She pulled away first, breathless, her heart hammering so hard she was sure he could hear it. For a moment, they just stared at each other, caught in the aftermath of whatever the hell had just happened.

Then, Eren’s lips curved into a slow, crooked grin. “Told you I could win.”

McKayla let out a breathless laugh, shoving him in the chest. He was back to being old Eren. “Shut up.” But her fingers lingered against his skin for just a second too long before she forced herself to step away. And Eren noticed. He always did.

[free-luigi-mangione]

person that coincidentally was estranged from their family for half a year, went missing, had a backpack full of items that make sense in this murder, similar looks from hostel image and cab, exact gait as the murderer, and the confirmed journal entry discussing the healthcare system??? Really guys? Come on. It’s important we continue what he started. Not the murder itself but the message.

I'm gonna be very very honest here as someone who is studying law, could he have come this ? Ofc. But let's break this down as we would in a court because in a court defence also gets to share their side- 1) a lot more people get estranged from their family for various reasons than you would like to believe, this fact would likely wouldn't even be brought up unless Luigi himself takes the stand. A lot of defendants don't so the question of whether this will be brought up in court remains to be seen. Even if he takes the stand, if the prosecutors are allowed to question him on it remains to be seen. There are a lots of rules of evidence based on context of situations. 2) We don't know what he had in his bag, you're going off the prosecutor's list taken from NYPD inventory which is in direct contradiction to the Altoona one. Moreover, Luigi's lawyer in PA have alluded to planting of evidence. We won't know exactly what he had in his and until the trial or until way closer to the trial. 3) The police released pictures of him as a suspect way before arresting him on 5 december, and they self admittedly didn't even have him on radar, they probably just used him to flag similar features. Whether it's him or not remains to be seen until the trial. Again, they also realised multiple other potential suspect videos that went no where, we only know about these ones because they gained people'd attention. If they can't prove its him, they most likely won't even be allowed in court. Even if it is him, random pictures of him all over NY aren't putting him at the scene of the crime. 4) stop this gait bs, I know this is from reddit and this would be laughed out of court, the judge would literally berate the attorneys trying to bring this in as evidence. 5) We don't know anything about any entries and their validity, what are you talking about ? PS : let's say even if there was, written stuff is not usually let in an evidence unless prosecutors can prove the defendant write it. "Handwriting experts" also aren't a source that's cab be used to make a point to the judge. Now again, I'm not saying he could not have done it but most things you mentioned aren't giving anyone confirmation beyond a reasonable doubt because half those things would not even be allowed in court, the other half is riddled with contradictions to the defence's benifit and for the rest the defence will be giving their side of the story. I'm not even trying to be rude here but all your points are taken off reddit from people who don't know anything about legal procedures. All of them take the prosecutor's filings and the police filings as verbatim it's really concerning not just for this case but in general. The prosecutors don't have to prove "oh he could have done it because X,Y,Z", they have to prove he 99.99999999 % did it. You coming here shouting in a condensing tone to people who are pointing out loopholes and poor story continuity on the LE's part is doing nothing. You can't come here being rude asf and expect to be taken seriously at all. Very last thing, the eye witness testimony if the defence can get him would be very beneficial to the defence because that guy was on news talking about the shooter being outside the hotel all night whereas both NYPD and Feds have Luigi going out of his hostel at different times ( which are also contradicting each other )

YES!!! we've now gotten law students speaking out against that anon's bullshit!!! thanks a lot to you anon!!! :)

[arty-chase]

Graveyard Siblings (13) (The End)

[Masterlist]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12)

----- I finally did it! I finished something. After nearly three years, this little plot fic has come to an end that I am satisfied with. Thanking for sticking to the end of this journey.

----

TIKKI. PLAGG. EXPLAIN.

They demanded.

“Marinette does not deserve the sentence.” Tikki stated furiously.

YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO INTERFERE ON WHAT WE DECIDE.

“We know. However, we will try to change it anyway.” Plagg joined Tikki. “The soul of Marinette Dupain-Cheng may be Marked but she has not done anything that makes her deserving of having the fate of one.”

SOMEONE HAS TO PAY THE PRICE. SHE WAS MARKED.

“Ya ya…. I know. The rules. Fuck them. You guys made them to maintain balance or whatever. However, what you are doing right now is not fair. Where is the justice?” Plagg demanded

THIS IS JUSTICE.

“This isn’t justice. This is another sentence. She did what you asked of her. She has given enough of herself for the sake of Balance. The sinners are punished. The kwamis are all released. What more do you want for her?”

SHE IS MARKED SO SHE HAS TO BEAR THE CONSEQUENCES.

“Fucked the Marked bullshit. Marinette doesn’t deserve that fate. She is wonderful and kind and every good thing this world has to offer. She was backstabbed. Pratically sacrifice for someone’s happiness. The one who claimed to love her moved on from her pretty quick. The only reason he is regretting losing her is because of the karma he is facing. Karma that he rightly deserved. I argue that the Mark is invalid. It doesn’t count-” Plagg ranted and yelled at Them.

Meanwhile, Marinette and Tikki hugged each other.

“Tikki, what’s going to happen to me?” Marinette asked in a small voice. One that Tikki had rarely heard ever since Marinette met the Waynes.

“Plagg and I are going to do our best to protect you. Nothing bad will happen to you.”

“I feel so empty.”

“I know. I am sorry. I am going to make sure you don’t feel that way anymore.” Tikki hugged what remained of the piece that made up Marinette Dupain-Cheng a bit tighter.

—

WHY DOES IT MATTER TO YOU TWO THAT THIS MORTAL DOESN’T HAVE TO GIVE HERSELF UP? IT IS IN THE NAME OF BALANCE. A WORTHY CAUSE TO ####### FOR. TIKKI AND PLAGG AS BEINGS ONCE PART OF US. YOU KNOW WHY WE HAVE TO DO THIS. AND IT WILL BE A QUICK AND PAINLESS. SHE WILL NOT FEEL A THING.

THEY were starting to sound fed up with arguing with Plagg.

“THIS ISN’T ABOUT BALANCE ANYMORE, YOU FUCKERS!! THIS IS BECAUSE YOU WERE MAD YOU GOT CHEATED OUT OF A DEAL AND THIS GIRL IS JUST ANOTHER LOOSE END FOR YOU TO TIE UP!” Plagg lost his shit, finally after hours or what passes for hours in a place where time doesn’t function normally.

Tikki chose that moment to finally say her piece.

“My holder went through a lot for the sake of your balance. She fixed Gotham. She punished the one who made the wish so they would pay the price for trying to change someone else’s fate. She made sure we were freed. She doesn’t need to do more. She had given up nearly everything to accomplish what you demanded of her. Don’t take away what is left of her.”

SHE ALSO HAD GOTTEN EVERYTHING SHE WANTED WITH THE SECOND CHANCE WE GAVE HER. SHE GOT HER REVENGE, SHE ACHIEVED HER DREAMS, SHE HAD THE FAMILY SHE WANTED. 

“Is it really fair if she had to give those up too?”

WHY DO YOU OPPOSE THIS DECISION ON HER BEHALF?

The voices sound almost baffled by Tikki and Plagg’s opposition.

“Marinette is more than just my holder and our Guardian. She is our friend. She placed our safety and well-being above her own. She deserves more than being tossed aside once her usefulness is up.” Tikki stated.

Then, she looked down and she continued,

“And we have shamelessly let her continue on her path, knowing how it would end. Because we were too afraid to acknowledge that we were using her like a pawn for our own selfishness. Until the end she was selfless. She forgave us for what we did to her. SO I IMPLORE YOU. Please let Marinette live a long life where she would never ever be used by someone else for their own selfish desires. She will live a path free of thorns and people who wish to cause her harm.” Tikki pleaded with the Universe.

The voices were quiet for a long time.

Tikki and Plagg looked at each other with worry at the silence.

WE HAVE COME TO A CONCLUSION. MARINETTE, GUARDIAN OF THE MIRACULOUS, HOLDER OF THE LADYBUG AND PROTECTOR OF GOTHAM AND PARIS, IS FREE FROM HER FATE OF BEING MARKED. 

“But?”

HOWEVER, DUE TO LAWS OF CASUALTY WE CANNOT SIMPLY REVIVED HER FROM THE DEAD.

“And Marinette had closed down all of the Lazarus Pits.” Plagg added, their only option for a resurrection was gone.

THERE IS STILL ANOTHER OPTION.

=====

Jason opened the door of his apartment and Dick was there mid-knock.

“What do you want?” Jason asked.

Dick tried to give him a smile. “Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Jason rubbed his face as he groaned. “For the last time. I am fine.”

“It’s fine to miss her, you know. Especially since…”

‘It has been a year since she died’ rests unspoken in the air.

Today was the exact day Maria had given up her own life to make sure that Gabriel Agreste gets punished for his crimes.

“Just leave me alone, Dickhead.” Jason walked away.

“Jason.”

“I just- I am coping. As much as I can without getting violent.”

Jason felt Dick hugging him from behind.

“We miss her too. You know that if there was another way, she would have done everything to stay.”

“It’s unfair, you know.” Jason turned around and mumbled into Dick’s shoulder. He hugged his brother.

“After everything, the asshole is still alive and kicking. His son is facing little consequences for what he has done. They should be the ones dead instead of Marinette. Instead, we are never going to see her graduate college, get a job, kick our asses and drive Ra’s mad with her pranks.”

His voice cracked with grief.

“I know, Jay. I know.” Dick hugged Jason tighter and rubbed his back. “I wish for that too.”

Tears ran down Jason’s face as he sobbed.

Ten minutes later,

They both sat around the kitchen island counter.

“So why did you come here?” Jason asked as he set down two cups of tea.

“Oh. Alfred was thinking about doing a little memorial dinner in her honour. Just close friends and family. It would be great if you came.”

“Sounds great. Tell me the details and I will be there.”

Dick smiled, “I will let Alfred know that you’re coming.”

The brothers talked about patrol and stuff.

Then, Dick left.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door again.

Jason sighed.

He opened the door to give Dick an earful about being forgetful when he saw no one there.

He looked around and saw nothing where a noise from below caught his attention.

It was a baby in a basket with a note addressed to him.

“Dear Jason,

Please take care of my dear Guardian

-Tikki”

In disbelief, he carefully picked up the bundle in the basket. Jason couldn’t believe it. It felt like a miracle that he didn’t dare believe.

The baby yawned and opened her eyes. Showing a familiar pair of bluebell eyes.

It was truly Marinette. As a baby but it was still Marinette nonetheless.

“Pixie. I don’t know how but thank you. Thank you for coming back to me.” Jason whispered and kissed her forehead.

That evening, the Waynes welcomed back a new member of the family.

Marinette Todd-Wayne finally came home.

—-

Technically, after this, there could be more adventures but I am not up to writing it. This is where I will end this story.

And to answer some questions you might have.

Does Marinette remember her past life? Not at first. She is still a baby right now but around the age of four or five years old, she would start to remember bits and pieces. She would probably remember everything by age 13.

Does Lila meet her end? Lila never stopped lying. The ghosts tormented her because of that  but no one ever believed her. In the end, the doctors diagnosed her with schizophrenia and moved her to a mental facility where the ghosts would haunt her until the end of her days.

Gabriel died in jail. He thought that he had the last laugh, having killed Ladybug. But upon seeing the news about the welcome of the newest Wayne member on TV, he realised that his enemy had won in the end. She was going to live again, free from him and anything miraculous related.

Adrien and Emilie spent the rest of their lives in London away with Amelie and Felix.

Adrien had tried to approach baby Marinette but the overprotective Batfamily made sure that he never got within 10 feet of her.

When Marinette regained her memories, Adrien was remorseful of how everything turned out. He knew that the spell was just to make him tell the truth and in turn make him show his true colours to everyone so he went to therapy and worked on trying to be less of an asshole.

-

“M’lady.”

Marinette looked up and saw a man in his thirties with blond hair and green eyes that once were her world.

“Agreste.” Marinette nodded in acknowledgement. Under the table, she texted to the family group chat the code for small emergencies.

Adrien frowned with hurt but it wiped away quickly off his face.

“I deserve that.” He replied calmly. Marinette saw that Adrien had grown up and accepted that he had done wrong.

“So.. how can I help you, Agreste ?”

“Cut the shit. I know that you remember, Marinette.”

Marinette looked at him in surprise.

“How?”

“I was once your partner, you know. I can tell.” Adrien answered.

Marinette frowned.

Adrien continued. “Look, I know I messed up really badly. I managed to lift the curse you put on me. I went to your grave and apologised. I know that sorry cannot take back what I did but I still did it because you deserve at least that from me. I have been trying to make up for what I did.”

“Is that why you approached me?” she asked.

“No. It was just a coincidence. I’m not like stalking you or anything.” Adrien clarified. “Your new dad is terrifying.”

Marinette chuckled about Jason, her brother turned dad figure. “He is.”

“I am glad to know that you are happy.” Adrien said. “And for what it’s worth, I want to apologise to you again. I know that I already did it to your grave and all that but you deserve to hear it directly from me. So here it goes… Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

It had been a while since anyone called her that.

“I’m sorry for everything I did as Chat Noir, harassing you to date me, throwing temper tantrums during akuma fights, greatly hindering  you with my selfishness and finally, betraying you for the sake of my father. I never should have listened to him. Even if it was to get my mother back. I should have told you the truth. And I am sorry for the hurt I had caused you as Adrien Agreste. I should have done something about Lila from the beginning. I should have supported you instead of telling you to suck it up. I should have let her lies get too far that it hurt you. In fact, I should never let it get that far in the first place. I am sorry I never did all of that.”

Marinette clapped. “Thank you, Adrien.”

Adrien nodded. At least she accepted his apologies. It was too much to hope for her forgiveness.

“Marinette, I..” Adrien didn’t know how to bring it up.

“There’s more?”

“Alya sorta brought it up when we had a class reunion. That… you had a crush on me. How much you did for me and I never noticed.” Adrien blushed in embarrassment. “Not that I want to do that with you, I mean, I maybe had a few fantasies about that when I was fifteen but not like now because it’s weird and you are like half my age now and I am seeing someone.”

Adrien rambled.

Marinette laughed.

Adrien had a flashback to that sweet girl from his youth.

“What I am trying to say is that. I am sorry I never knew and if I hurt you because I was tactless.”

“You did a lot but I never held that fact against you. Honestly, I let go of my feelings for you because.. Of Lila.”

“I get it. I was a huge dick.”

“Another thing is that I wasn’t my best when it comes to you. I did a lot of stupid things to get your attention.”

“Alya may have talked about that. I am flattered but it was also worrying. But Chat Noir wasn't any better so I can’t talk.”

They both smiled at each other.

Adrien saw that in a different world, Ladybug and Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste, would have ended up together. He shook his head to get rid of that thought, he knew better now. He had made sure that would never happen. Even if his father didn’t kill Maria/Marinette, and she had lived on, Adrien wouldn’t get her love ever again.

“Marinette, can we be friends?” Adrien asked before he could lose his courage. Even if he couldn’t love her, he hoped to stay by her side as her friend.

Marinette lost her smile.

“We can’t, can we?” Adrien ruefully answered his own question.

“Adrien, I know that you have changed for the better. You are a great person now. It’s just… we have a lot of history. History I can’t easily erase with a blank slate. I am still trying to sort through everything and try to move on. It’s been hard.” Marinette confessed. “I have been to therapy but they don’t exactly know how to help someone who experienced and remember all the awful things that happened in their past life.”

Marinette looked up. “I’m sorry.”

Adrien moved to hold her hand for comfort before reconsidering his action.

“Look, Marinette, I am not mad. I am a bit disappointed we can’t be friends but I kinda get it. I hurt you badly so you don’t feel like you can trust me ever again. That’s my fault. I knew it wasn’t a possibility when I asked but I had to try.”

“Oh, Adrien.”

“Marinette, at the very least, are friendly acquaintances okay?” He asked.

“I guess.”

Adrien smiled. “You don’t have to try to be friends with me, Marinette. I swear I will be okay. This won’t break my heart. I have someone who will take care of it.”

Marinette asked, curious. “Who are you dating anyways?”

Adrien blushed. “His name is Jaime. Jaime Reyes. I still can’t believe he likes me even after I told him about what I did.”

Marinette choked.

“Marinette, are you okay?” Adrien rushed forward and rubbed her back. 

At the same time, Jason arrived, having annoyed Roy Harper to break several traffic laws to get to Gotham from all the way from Metropolis.

Upon seeing Adrien, he growled. “Get the fuck away from Marinette. What did you do to her, you fucker?!”

He grabbed Adrien and slammed him towards the nearest wall.

Marinette quickly interfered. “Jason, it’s okay. We were just talking. Then, I got caught off guard by something he said.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Well, I was just surprised to learn that he was dating a guy. Nothing big. Just several things that finally made sense now that I thought about it.”

Adrien gaped at her. “I have been out as bi for a decade now. How do you not know that I like guys?”

Marinette scowled, “It’s not like I keep up with celebrity gossip. I don’t look for news with your name like I used to do.”

“So you are good, kid?”

“Yes, Jason. Please let him go. We were still talking.”

Jason did so.

Adrien rubbed his neck and turned to Marinette. “As much as I want to keep talking, I think I should leave. I have to go and meet up with Jaime anyways. He had to run an errand here for a friend of his.”

Marinette nodded.  “Be safe.”

—

After Adrien left, Jason gave a questioning look to Marinette.

“Why did you lie? We all know that you kept an eye on your old classmates so you already knew that he dated guys.”

“What I didn’t know was that Adrien is dating Blue Beetle.”

“The same Blue Beetle Bruce called to deal with those aliens who are trafficking humans?”

“Yes. Now let’s go to Metropolis so I can avoid doing the responsible thing and tell Adrien the truth.”

—-

What about the rest of the class… Well, they all led relatively normal lives. They all drifted apart and only met again at the class union that Adrien had mentioned.

They all faced different challenges and achieved success like any other normal people. Some turned out great despite what happened. Some moderately successful. Some not so great but still managed fine. A few unhappy with their life.

The ones who were marked by Marinette in her ‘ghost’ rampage had a few bad days more than an average person but other than that they had normal lives.

When they see Maria’s brand Afterlife or Marinette Todd-Wayne in a magazine, their heart aches at the thought of their once dear friend.

Now you will ask what happened to her parents.

Well, they moved away from their old building to a different part of Paris and opened a bakery under a different name.

They moved on as best as they could and filled with regrets for losing their daughter twice.

They knew in their hearts that Marinette had lived on as Maria. It hurt them again knowing that she was gone forever once more.

When they saw the news about Marinette Todd-Wayne. They knew it was their daughter reincarnated.

As much as they wanted to see her again, they knew that they would never be able to.

To try to honour the daughter they had, they fostered many troubled kids. Helping them and giving them the support that they should have given Marinette.

They learned from their mistakes from Marinette and did their best to not repeat them with the other kids.

Life moves on and Everyone continues on.

—-

This is the end. Thank you for reading and being on this amazing journey with me.

-----

Taglist: @local-witch-of-mn, @ladyqnoirr, @lolieg, @istoleyourcookies, @pale-lady-dreamer, @ichigorose, @meow-now, @demonicbusiness, @unoriginalmess, @the-drokainian, @joejosyxd,@questionableboi, @talia-scar123, @boredteen19, @geminis93

[sulfurz]

ೃ༄ TWENTY TWENTY T’REE (sheamus x fem!reader)

ೃ༄ PAIRING: sheamus x fem!reader

ೃ༄ REQUESTED BY: anon

Can I have a one shot with sheamus where he’s kinda irritated and speaking loud and fast. Just ranting to his partner and he turns to see her trying not to laugh because she loves his strong accent

ೃ༄ WARNINGS: none (unless u count laughing at his accent. reader is gonna laugh at his accent)

ೃ༄ WORD COUNT: 788

ೃ༄ NOTE: THIS IS VERY SHORT BUT as someone who is dating an irish person…. this is the story of my life don’t get me wrong my girlfriend is the loml but sometimes i do have to ask her to slow down. just read everything in an irish accent pls

you heard sheamus arrive home before you saw him. the telltale sound of a car door slamming in the driveway gave away how your boyfriend was most likely feeling, so you resigned yourself to readying the comfort as you finished up your work.

you were lazily thrown across the couch, laptop on your thighs as you flicked through spreadsheets for your job. no day off apparently.

as the door to your home opened, you could hear telltale irish muttering that the day hadn’t quite been everything he had wanted it to be. he seemed to kick his shoes off as opposed to place them on the rack neatly, if the banging against the hallway door was a good enough sign.

“i’m home.” then came a tired shout, and you chuckled to yourself at the obvious statement.

“no way.” was your sarcastic response, turning your head just in time to see your boyfriend appear through the doorway, wasting no time in shooting you a (hopefully) playful glare. “welcome home, love.”

for a moment, he cracked a smile through the layers of frustration, walking over to where you sat and leaning down just enough to peck your lips. his hair was still slightly damp from a shower at the training centre, the feeling of it touching your forehead making you shudder momentarily.

“how was training?” you felt vaguely like your were poking the bear, seeing the way his shoulders tensed at the question.

sheamus immediately jumped into busying himself around the room, unpacking his bag and putting everything back in its place. “it was a load of shite. boss man pulled me into his office not even half way t’rough, something about a new storyline that’s entirely bullshite if you ask me.”

you raised an eyebrow, allowing him to move around you as you formatted something on your spreadsheet, noting down a total at the bottom. “in what way?”

“they’re just not even trying t’ hide their favouritism now — got the most insane match cards lined up with winners ya wouldn’t even t’ink possible. half the guys in t’ locker room don’t like it, but we’ve gotta do what the boss man wants.”

you hummed noncommittally, typing something into your laptop as he continued in the background.

“i’m fed up at this point. we cannay even have a day these days, then i got put t’rough a table wrong in training, proper botched it and could barely get up for a second. i tell yous it’s gone to shite since the hey days, could do with a whole rebrand a’ this point but i don’t t’ink even tha’ could save us.”

by now, you were barely following what sheamus was saying. he had a habit of talking fast when annoyed, and this time was no exception, but coupled with your half focus — you wouldn’t deny you had lost entire understanding of what he said half way through. it was something you had noticed in the years you had been together; no matter how used to his accent you had gotten, he always got more irish the moment he was even slightly upset. unfortunately, the thicker accent coupled with the speed usually equaled y/n losing everything he was saying.

you had to chuckle to yourself as he went off again in the background, thankful he wasn’t looking in your direction as you tried to hide your amusement behind your hand.

“i dun’ even know their reasons for this one, i t’ink they’re just t’rowing shite out there now ‘nd hoping for the best. they used to give us reasons for whatever they did, but now it’s just ‘hey sheamus my man do this entirely unreasonably t’ing just for views even though it doesn’t match your character at all’, it’s— are you alright there?”

you glanced up to see sheamus looking straight at you, clearly having seen the way you were practically folded in on yourself in amusement.

trying to calm yourself down was worse, the laughter you were suppressing coming out in snorts by now. “i’m so— i’m so sorry! you’re-“ you hicupped “you’re just very irish.”

“no shite sherlock.” your boyfriend responded, but as you looked up at him, he was cracking a smile of his own, the frustrated expression he had worn before cracking in its facade “have i ever told you i hate yous?”

you giggled again, lying full on your side by now on the sofa. opening your arms, you beckoned him to come join you with a smile that he mirrored on his own face “many times. you never fail to remind me.”

sheamus cackled loudly, practically jumping on top of you as he peppered kisses along your cheeks. “wait till you meet my father.”

[yourflame]

@shadowsceptered said: " And you would believe this folly? " the demon's words are a hysteric laugh, the grin practically evident in his tone. Not that it reflects how he feels on the inside, the internal rage that some alternate sully everything he has built. He had abandoned all that Sonic had meant to him years ago... disturbing the ashes now, rewrites that sentiment! And Mephiles the Dark has none. He has NONE. " You would believe HIM? That who speaks as many ill-gotten manipulations as ME? That is ME? Hahahahaha... how desperate you must be, Sonic the Hedgehog. " Hands tense into fists. " I killed Jules. There is no denying that fate. "

❝ You're really starting to piss me off, ❞ Oh yeah, he said it. He said a cuss word. Sonic's expression is a flat, tight line of the mouth and a narrow eyed glare at his former 'friend' ( were they ever friends? He's beginning to wonder if Solaris just gets a kick out of manipulating people's feelings for the hell of it. ) Had it not been for a certain tattle-tale, Sonic probably would still be on no-speaking terms with Mephiles. Regardless, he knew what he knew now. And at this point, whether the shadow-demon killed his dad or not, this whole situation was running it's course with the hedgehog's patience. He's over it. He's fed up.

And yet...

❝ Is that what you're trying to accomplish here? Piss me off? Make me hate you? Well you're doing a good job at it! But I know y'didn't actually kill my old man, 'cuz another you telling me the truth because you pissed him off sounds pretty on brand for the both of you, ❞ Rggh. He's so frustrated! He's tired of being reminded about Jules and in such a nonsensical way. Reminded about that day. He's healed and moved on from it but it wasn't like a bad knee didn't ache every now and then, especially when someone put strain on it. That's what Mephiles was doing. What this whole development was doing.

❝ And actually, NEITHER of you did! I did! I put him in that situation. Y'wanna keep rubbing that in my face, too?! ❞ My fault. His voice cracks with emotion that was unbecoming of Sonic. It's the first time in a long time his mind even went there. It's hurting again. Apparently it's supposed to happen. Apparently it couldn't be helped. Sonic thought it was all bullshit but he's too angry to linger on that bit of information. His heart stutters, realizing he's losing his cool again and that Mephiles had again made him spill his guts. He's sick of this. ❝ Here's an idea, Mephiles, stop talking about Julius. If you have ANY respect for what we had back then, do me this one favor and leave my dad's name out of your mouth. ❞ Or... lack-there of.