#because she's the only person doing it she's not creating traffic or anything

[unravelingwires]

Brommer

Despite what people said, roads were made for every citizen. Yes, it was better to leave them clear for emergency vehicles and those who couldn’t use buses, but the roads were clear enough that one more motorcycle wouldn’t block anything.

Lakshmi shoved a thermos into a cup holder, clipped her bag into the back, and gave the bike a once over. Lakshmi’d made the motorcycle herself. Motorcycle repair was the only grimy hobby Lakshmi had; she’d picked it up from her dad. Said dad had a gas engine, obviously. He’d been ridiculously proud of having one of the last true gas bikes in the states, as though spilling oil everywhere was something to be proud of. Still, there was a lot of overlap in how the cycles bikes, and Lakshmi herself was smart enough to make up the rest.

Lakshmi had left her parents’ house seven years ago to the day, blocked their numbers, and never looked back. She’d lied to them about where she wanted to go to college for years, dropped everybody from her hometown, and practically burned her fingerprints off to prevent herself from being tracked. She still kept the bike.

Lakshmi drove off. It wasn’t good for her to dwell on why she’d kept the bike.

[starlightkun]

➥ word count: 28.9k ➥ warnings: cursing, side character makes one (1) kms joke (“walk into traffic”), probable overuse of the word skeeze for a couple scenes ➥ genre: angst heavy at the beginning then fluff, science fantasy au, soulmate au (red string), speculative fiction, star crossed lovers, a little mystery-ish, artist sungchan ➥ author’s note: omg i’m sooo excited for this one! had a lot of fun with the worldbuilding and such, and as always, with characterizing sungchan. unfortunately due to tumblr’s 1000 block limit (which was created to hurt me personally), i had to do some modifications to this in order to make it fit (i was like 150 blocks over and really didn’t want to split it into two parts for no reason). if you want the authentic, unadulterated experience with original formatting and one extra scene, i highly, highly recommend reading it on ao3

To your horror, the string completed itself, connecting seamlessly to the pinky of the stranger in front of you. The young man looked at you with wonderment, a wide smile coming to his features, brightness and recognition in them. He opened his mouth, presumably to say hello, or whatever soulmates did when they met, but before he could utter anything, you dropped the book and took off at a run.

Humming along to your music, you watched the city pass by, felt the bus start and stop, and were vaguely aware of the same passengers as always getting on and off. You took the same bus every day, Monday through Friday, as you had for the past two years, since you’d been promoted and moved to better accommodations that you could afford with your new pay.

There were regulars on your commute, such as the elderly couple who got on one stop after you on the first Monday every month, and got off at the stop that you knew was closest to the art museum. They sat in the row behind you, and explained to you once that they had been passholders at the museum for years, and that was when new exhibits were rotated in. Or in the front of the bus, a pair of sisters that you had inadvertently seen grow up over the years, who got on some time before your stop, and got off two stops before you in the morning, close to a nearby private school. You could sometimes hear the older one helping the younger with homework, or making last-minute fixes to her hair or uniform.

There were of course lots of office workers as well, who all rushed on and off the bus with promptness at their stops. You recalled fondly the primary school teacher who used to sit next to you, young and always dressed in fun, colorful prints. She had blurted out one morning that she was pregnant, and you were the first person she was telling, even before her husband. She didn’t know how to tell him yet, but was so excited and had to share the news with somebody, even a stranger that she only knew for a few minutes a day on the bus. You’d watched over the months as she started to show, then told you one morning she was just going on a short maternity leave to have her baby boy but would be back sooner than you’d know. She never got back on again. You hoped her son was beautiful and healthy, and still thought of them every so often when you’d look up and pass by her stop.

And then there was you. You sometimes wondered what they thought of you, if any of them did. It would be strange if they didn’t have at least a passing opinion of you. Not because you yourself did anything remarkable on your daily commute. You got on, took the same seat every day, listened to your music with your headphones in, and got off at the same stop. But no matter how normal your routine was, how quaint your occasional conversations with your fellow commuters were, there was something that set you apart.

As signified by the strawberry red jumpsuit you donned five days a week, you worked at The Soulmate Factory. It was technically called the Bureau of Interpersonal Affairs, but everyone just called it The Soulmate Factory, even the employees. Not the most popular place to work, but the work that was done there had to be done nevertheless. All Factory employees were ineligible for matching, in order to maintain the integrity of the Bureau’s image. Your family could never understand why you’d accept a position there; never getting a soulmate of your own, never getting the one person destined for you. But you didn’t see it like that. It’s not like you could never fall in love, find a partner to spend your life with, or be fulfilled in any millions of other ways.

The bus jerked to a stop again, and the doors swung open. You stood up and hurried off. You were the only passenger to depart here, as usual. A building loomed in the distance, all flashing windows and pink marble. Following in a few other coworkers in matching red jumpsuits, you hurried up the stairs, catching up to a familiar head of hair on the way up.

“Morning, Jaemin!” You chirped, nudging his arm with yours as you fell into step with him.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Morning!” He offered you a bright smile, stepping off at the same floor as you and walking over to your neighboring desks.

“Hey, did you ever read that book I leant you?” You asked, dropping your backpack off at your desk before heading for the breakroom together. There was always a quiet buzz in the morning that you liked, when everybody was still mellow from waking up, but excited to start the day.

He hissed regretfully, a sheepish smile already coming to his face, telling you everything you needed to know, “Well...”

“You haven’t touched it since the day I gave it to you.”

“I’m going to! Promise!”

“It’s coming up on my re-read list,” you warned him, starting a fresh pot of coffee. “I only have like four books ahead of it. That gives you like, four weeks max.”

“You need to rot your brain with some TV or something.” He shook his head teasingly, reaching up into a cabinet and pulling down a box of cereal.

“Hey, isn’t that—”

“Na Jaemin, if you value your life, you’ll put that box down now.” The stern voice of Huang Renjun cracked through the air.

Jaemin turned around, hiding the box behind his back as he offered your other coworker a sickly sweet smile. “What box?”

“Come here, you son of a—”

“Hey, let’s not commit homicide before the weekly agenda meeting, maybe?” You suggested loudly over their squabbling, as Renjun had just grabbed Jaemin by the collar. “Because I’m pretty sure if you kill Jaemin, they’ll just reassign you his work, Renjun. Might want to see what your workload is like first.”

Renjun yanked the box of cereal out of Jaemin’s hand then, holding it to his chest protectively and scowling. “Fine. You better hope that you’re on data synthesis, Jaemin.”

He walked out still clutching the box to his chest.

“He’s just going to eat it dry by the fistful, isn’t he?” You sighed, starting to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

“Definitely,” Jaemin confirmed. “And I’m suddenly really wanting to do some data synthesis this week.”

After getting dismissed from the weekly agenda meeting—during which Jaemin was assigned data synthesis, and Renjun got profile compiling—you headed back to your desks. You weren’t assigned anything because your job was the same every day. You were on a very specific career trajectory at The Soulmate Factory after showing promise in the typical six months of entry-level training for new employees. Following those six months, your fellow trainees went on to start their jobs, while you went through an additional two and a half years of specialized training for your position: matchmaking.

You didn’t sit down at your computer when you got back to your desk, simply placing your nearly empty coffee cup on it before taking off down the hall to the room in which you actually did most of your work.

Swiping your badge at the access panel, the door clicked to unlock, and you pushed it open. There were a couple of other matchmakers already in there, who didn’t offer you a single glance or any indication that they were even aware of your presence. Sitting at your station, you were face-to-face with a quaintly archaic-looking computer. Compared to the newest monitors at every desk in the main bullpen, which could display images in a resolution so crisp it was hard to tell the difference between that and real life, the small, square glass and pixelated text that was in front of you seemed so out of place. But this was the system. Pressing the Enter button on your keyboard, your screen came to life, already giving you your first match.

N!#83LPd5D4ZR$PYQ^KLT6WnY##4GYVm74v^f@96#q#hheeRYgLLf3Ft9KQw

‘Matchmaker’ was a misnomer, really. You didn’t set people up to be soulmates whatsoever. The computer gave you the results, all you did was read them. Take the seemingly random string of letters, numbers, and characters, and parse out the meaning. Your training consisted of watching other matchmakers work, then trying your hand at doing some on your own, being told that you were wrong or right, with no explanation as to why either way—until you stopped getting them wrong. And whenever it would be your turn to train a matchmaker, that would be exactly how you’d train them. Because there was no way to tell them what exactly you were seeing, or how to do it. They just had to do. The longest part was looking up the profile numbers in the program, selecting them, and sending off the match results. As soon as you submitted that one, your next match came up.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

Your body moved as if by itself, in understanding with the machine, the program. The matchmakers often talked about entering a sort of trance when working, becoming one mind with the computer, completely unaware of their surroundings, time, or bodily needs. Only the next match. That’s why all of your screens had to be simultaneously forced into a shut-off at lunchtime, or else none of you would take a lunch break, then again at the end of the workday.

Blinking a few times to readjust from the hours spent interfacing with the program, you looked around you at the other matchmakers slowly getting up from their seats as well. With a sigh, you stood up and shuffled out after them. Jaemin was still at his desk when you got back to yours, fervently clacking away at his keyboard. You grabbed your coffee mug, went to wash it out in the breakroom and set it up to dry, then returned to your desk. Swallowing in an attempt to wet your dry throat, you asked him, “So how was your thrilling day of data synthesis?”

“Not over yet,” he groaned, scrolling down in his spreadsheet. “Hey, wait up a minute, would you?”

Checking the time on your watch, you nodded. “My bus doesn’t come for another twenty-five. They let us out early again.”

“Yeah, I heard the Director on the phone to somebody a while ago. He sounded pissed. Apparently, there’s some concerns over the Factory’s energy usage. They must be cutting you guys a few minutes early every day to try to help since you still use old hardware, right?”

“Mm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, could be.”

“You’d think we’d be the one agency that wouldn’t be hit with budget cuts,” he scoffed, clicking a few things before his monitor displayed the login screen again. He spun around in his chair, giving you a wide smile. “Alright, ready?”

“Sure.” You grabbed your backpack from your seat. Jaemin and you headed down the stairs, awash in pinks and oranges from the sunset streaming in from outside.

“So, I already know what the answer is going to be, but I have to be able to say that I asked, alright?” Your coworker began, making you scrunch up your face in confusion. “My sister wanted me to ask if you’ve done hers yet? Na Minhee?”

You sighed, “Jaemin, you know I don’t know any of that—” “I know—” “—it’s all just… stuff. And you’ve compiled profiles, those are completely anonymous.”

“I know, I know,” he reassured you. “I just needed to be able to tell her that I asked, and that’s what you said. She wouldn’t take my word for it.”

“She’d know if hers has already been done, anyway.” You held up your hand, wiggling your pinky finger. “Why ask you?”

“Because she’s impatient.”

“Well, I can’t help her.” You shrugged. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

“I’ll tell her that. Thanks!”

“Yeah, no problem, dude.”

“When does your bus come?”

You checked the time again. “Fifteen minutes or so.”

“You want me to wait with you?” He offered, looking around the empty bus stop. “Kind of dark.”

“I’m alright, thanks. Go break your sister’s heart, champ.” You gave him a mock punch on the shoulder.

On your own again, you took your phone and headphones out, popping one earbud in your ear as you went to choose your playlist. As you scrolled, tapped, and swiped through your phone to try to pick the perfect song, some fuzz fell from your jumpsuit onto your right pinky finger, and you absentmindedly shook it off as your focus stayed on your music library. But it was stubborn, and the red fleck didn’t budge. You wiped the digit on your pants, eyes on where you had finally gotten the perfect choice, the song starting up as you lifted your now-clean hand back up.

Except it was still there. You looked at your hand for the first time, really looked at it, and felt your stomach drop. A thin, bright red string, the same color as your jumpsuit, was tied around your right pinky finger, just above the juncture where the finger met your hand. The string hung off in the air, becoming transparent and disappearing altogether less than a finger’s length away. You turned your hand over, palm to back to palm to back, and the string moved with it, the end fluttering with each of your movements. Stupidly, you tried to grab it, as if to pull it off, but when you took hold of the silken thread and gave it a yank, it didn’t budge. For a split second, amputation came to mind, but you quickly pushed those thoughts away. There were stories of people losing fingers or entire limbs and their strings reappearing on the other hand, or in new places altogether if they had no hands at all.

You looked around for any of your coworkers. Nobody else except the two people on either end of the string could see it, but you still didn’t want anybody to be observing your behavior, and then have to try to explain said behavior right now. It was easy to explain why you were doing what you were doing—you just got a red string; but not how—you weren’t supposed to get one. Ever. The area around you was empty, the majority of your coworkers driving, taking the subway, or not having left work yet. You looked over your shoulder, at the pink marble building looming in the distance.

The squeal of brakes and hiss of compressed air as the doors of a bus were flung open made you turn around. Rushing up the steps onto the bus, you then plopped into your usual seat, keeping your backpack on your lap and instinctively tucking your right hand between the bag and your body to keep the string hidden. You didn’t know who could possibly be your soulmate now, you had to be vigilant. You didn’t relax until you were safely tucked away in your apartment, door locked behind you, no plans to see any other humans for the rest of the day.

The next morning, you kept your right hand hidden away as much as possible on your commute, in your pockets, behind your bag, under your thigh. You didn’t feel remotely safe until you were in the matchmaking room, at your station. Even then, it took you longer than normal to stop from looking at your pinky and actually focus on the first match up on your screen. Once you had, everything else faded away like usual, and you could only think about reading the matches.

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At lunch, you typically would’ve taken your packed lunch to a nearby public park to eat, but that was too risky. So you took it to the breakroom, sitting at the small table and taking out one of your books from your bag. A few other coworkers came in and out to use the microwave or retrieve their own lunch from the fridge, but nobody bothered you as you read. You finished your food rather quick, and found yourself a bit too distracted to focus on your book. The red string on your finger was back in the forefront of your mind. Checking the time, you saw that you still had over half of your break left. With a sigh, you shut your book and walked back over to your desk next to Jaemin’s.

The floor was pretty empty, only a couple of your coworkers left who either took early or later lunches. You turned on the desktop computer, waiting for it to start up before quickly signing on. Opening up the program where profiles were compiled to be fed into the matchmaking system, you chewed on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully, clicking around on the controls. During the basic training you’d received over five years ago, you’d been shown how to compile and enter a profile into the database, and you obviously searched them up from your matchmaking station. But these were all profiles that hadn’t been matched yet, that didn’t have red strings. You needed to get into wherever the profiles that had been successfully matched were. If they were kept somewhere at all.

After poking around some more in the application, you determined that either you didn’t have the technical know-how to access that information, the administrative access to do so, or that information wasn’t stored in the first place. Exiting out of the program with a sigh, you dropped your chin into your palm, scrunching your eyes and nose up as you continued thinking. It felt like it was right there, right on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t grab it for some reason. The weekly agenda meeting, something about the weekly agenda meeting—Jaemin was assigned data synthesis. They compiled information on all kinds of stuff regarding matched soulmates: average time to meet after the strings appear, get married, have kids, how many kids, length of time they’re together prior to death, the list goes on. That couldn’t come from nowhere. They had to keep track of soulmates somehow, right?

You quickly opened the Internet browser, going to the Bureau’s website and finding the ‘Studies and Statistics’ page. All of the things you were thinking about were there, complete with fancy little graphics. It didn’t tell you anything about where this stuff was stored internally, but this meant that it had to be, somehow, somewhere. Which meant that your match had to be somewhere, and if you could just find it, then you could—

What? Undo it somehow? It had to be possible. But first you had to find out how it happened in the first place, which meant laying eyes on the match itself, at least. You needed some kind of starting point, and that felt like as good as any.

At the end of the day, the matchmakers were let out early again, and you waited up at your desk as Jaemin was still working. He looked over his shoulder at you curiously. “You need something, Y/N? I don’t have your book, sorry.”

“No, I have a question. But you can finish your work first.”

He made an interested noise, and turned back to his screen. After entering a few more things into his spreadsheet, he pressed save, then exited out with a satisfied groan. He shut down his computer and leaned back, audibly cracking his back. “Fucking finally! If I ever have to look at another number again, I’ll walk into traffic.”

You chuckled as the two of you set off. “Data synthesis that bad?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed one of his eyes. “Anyway, what’d you want to ask me?”

“It was actually about data synthesis…”

“No!” He whined, shaking his head fervently.

“One question! One question!” You begged.

“Fine…”

“The data that you use, how do you get that? Like, where do you get it from?”

He looked at you, squinting with confusion. “From soulmates that have already been matched?”

“Then the Factory keeps records of matches after the strings have been triggered.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Where? Is it a separate database from the one that you enter new profiles into? Or is it part of the matchmaking program?”

“I mean, it’s probably its own thing? I don’t know, I get the numbers in my data synthesis project assignments. If I need more, or something different, I tell the project manager and he gets it for me.”

“Huh.” You kept the disappointment off your face, as well as curiosity. While he didn’t know a lot, what he didn’t know actually was helpful to you. “Okay, thanks.”

“That was more than one question.”

“Right, sorry.”

“What’s going on? Why the interest in data synthesis all of a sudden?”

“Just curious, since you guys seem to hate it so much.”

“It’s… mind-numbing, to say the least.”

“Here’s hoping next week you’re on profile compiling.”

“Fingers crossed,” he sighed. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

The next few days passed without incident. Your intervals of snooping around on your desktop computer during your lunch breaks were fruitless in finding wherever completed matches were stored, and soon it was Friday evening, and the work week was over. Not even a crisis like this could make you work late on a Friday. You realized when you got home that you were out of groceries, and ordered delivery to your apartment. Can’t risk someone at the restaurant being your soulmate.

Saturday morning you woke up and left early to go grocery shopping, hopefully before most anybody would be out and about. Well, before one person in particular would be awake—your soulmate. Only problem was, you didn’t know who that was, so you had to avoid pretty much everybody. As you walked through the streets keeping your hands crossed and tucked under your arms, you kept your head down, eyes focused only on your feet. If you couldn’t see anybody’s hands and couldn’t possibly see a red string, hopefully they wouldn’t see yours.

Except as you rushed through the streets, you passed by your favorite small bookstore, with its doors wide open, and a sign out front on the sidewalk advertising a huge sale, 70% off a table of books right by the doorway. You couldn’t help but stop—just for a second—to check it out, spotting a title by one of your favorite authors that you’d been meaning to read but hadn’t yet. Picking up the book to look at the price and turning it over in your hands to skim the blurb on the back, you were barely aware of the sounds of some young men playing with a Frisbee at the park across the street, their yells fading into the din of the waking city.

That was, until the purple, plastic disc came skittering across the pavement to a stop right at your feet, and a tall man jogged up after it, still calling to his friend over his shoulder, “Nice aim, Anton! You almost took this poor woman’s head off!”

You missed what his friend said in response as you were already looking up from the Frisbee with the intent to tell him that you were quite alright, then your eyes got caught on a thin red loop around his pinky finger. Snapping your gaze down to your own hand, which was still holding the book, then back to his as he stood now right in front of you, your eyes widened with alarm.

To your horror, the string completed itself, connecting seamlessly to the pinky of the stranger in front of you. The young man looked at you with wonderment, a wide smile coming to his features, brightness and recognition in them. He opened his mouth, presumably to say hello, or whatever soulmates did when they met, but before he could utter anything, you dropped the book and took off at a run. You sprinted away, turning down streets at random, until your legs were burning and you had a stitch in your side. Ducking around another shop, you hid behind the building to catch your breath, sure that you had lost him. Your heartbeat was thudding loudly in your ears, and you habitually tried to shake off that stupid, pesky red string again.

“Look—” A voice suddenly registering right over your shoulder made you jump and scramble back. The man had found you, holding his hands out in front of him like he was trying to calm a wild animal or a spooked horse. His chest was heaving as he was as out of breath as you were (presumably from running after you). There was a bewildered, confused look in his wide eyes as he kept himself between you and the only way out of the alley you had unintentionally backed yourself into. “I don’t normally chase women through the streets, sorry.”

You stayed silent as you looked between him and the exit. The red string hung between you, painfully obvious.

“I just… wanted to talk, you know,” he continued, gesturing to said string. “I’m Sungchan.”

You shook your head, clenching your jaw tightly to avoid making any kind of sound.

“What?” He tilted his head. “You… won’t tell me your name?”

You stared at him, unmoving.

“You know what, we got off on a bad foot, and clearly this is not a good time for you.” Sungchan stepped away from the alley entrance entirely. “Bye for now.”

Taking hesitant, shuffling steps, uncertain that he was actually going to let you leave, you kept your eyes laser focused on him until you were out of the alley, at which point you promptly booked it down the road again. You didn’t stop until you could no longer breathe, your legs shook and threatened to give out any second, and you had tears streaming down your face from the wind blowing into them.

That day you looked up how to get rid of a red string. You knew it was stupid, impossible to do at home. You literally worked at The Soulmate Factory, you were a matchmaker, for fuck’s sake, you were the one giving them out in the first place.

None of it worked, of course. Not meditating, praying, attempting to light it on fire, soaking your finger in a mixture of various oils and herbs from your spice cabinet, scrubbing really hard with the coarse side of a sponge, or crying for thirty minutes straight (that last one was just you being frustrated, no Internet listicle or sketchy guru suggested that). It was still there after everything, as pristine as when it appeared less than a week ago. Less than a week ago. Much faster than average, according to the statistics that you had just looked up the other day. The average time from getting the red string to meeting was seven months and eighteen days, with some taking several years. And yours just had to be within five days. You felt like you could cry again, if you didn’t already have a throbbing headache from how much you had done that earlier.

Now, you were sitting under the spray of your shower, holding your knees to your chest, trying not to look at it. You couldn’t look at your finger, at the red string, but if you closed your eyes, you just saw his face—Sungchan.

On Monday, you continued your investigation with renewed vigor. When you swiped into the matchmaking room, you didn’t go to your station, instead you headed for the back, where there was a short flight of stairs up to an office. Knocking on the door, you waited for the familiar voice inside to beckon you in.

“Come in.”

Pushing your way in, you nodded politely to your supervisor, “Good morning, Ms. Kwon.”

“Good morning, Y/N.” She brought her hands down from where they had been poised over her keyboard to rest in her lap. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” you lied. “How are you?”

“Fine. What brings you to my office this morning?”

“I… have sort of a weird question, if that’s alright.”

She gestured to the two chairs opposite her. “Of course.”

You sat in one, making a conscious effort to keep your knee from bouncing nervously.

“What is your question?” She prompted you.

“There’s never any mistakes, right?”

“Mistakes? No, you’re all trained right.” Ms. Kwon arched an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ve made a mistake, Y/N?”

“No, not the matchmakers. I mean… the computer does whatever it does with the information it’s given, right? That we collect?” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to say. “What if… it gets the wrong information? Wouldn’t it all be wrong if it’s given the wrong stuff in the first place?”

“The profiles we compile are extremely rudimentary, and that isn’t all the information it uses. The computer does more than we can ever know.”

“But what if… there’s an extra profile in there that was never supposed to be in there?”

“Like a person that doesn’t exist? How would a fake person even get created in the first place?”

“No I mean like—You know how Factory employees are taken out of the program? What if somehow, someone got missed? Like, their match happened right before their first day or something crazy. So they got matched up when they weren’t supposed to.”

“I’ve never heard of that happening.” She shook her head, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs at the knee. “As soon as we receive someone’s application, their profile is removed from the program. If they’re not hired, their profile is put back in. If they are hired, the data is permanently destroyed.”

“Where’s it stored when it’s temporarily removed during the application process, then?”

She didn’t answer your question, her face turning concerned instead of simply confused as before. “Y/N, what’s going on? Do you know of a Factory employee who’s been matched up?”

You shook your head, trying not to deny it too quickly or with too much fervor. “No, I just—Got a brain itch about it, I don’t know. Seems too… uncertain.”

“I can assure you, no Factory employee has ever been matched up. Accidentally or otherwise,” she replied smoothly, a reassuring smile coming to her features. “You can rest easy; no mistakes are made here.”

“Can you just… answer my question? Please?” You pleaded, picking at your nails to avoid messing with your pinky. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Alright, to soothe your brain itch,” she agreed, sounding amused. “It’s another list in the profiles database that we import into your matchmaking program, except only personnel with a certain clearance can view, add, and remove profiles from the list. Once a round of interviews has been completed, the applicants on the list are either marked as hired or not. If they’re marked as hired, their profile information is permanently destroyed upon their first day of training. If they’re marked as not, it’s returned to the main database that everyone has access to.”

“One more thing?”

“Sure.”

“Once a match is made, where does that information go? Like, the reports, the profiles, is it stored anywhere?”

“We maintain all of those records in another program. Those with higher clearance have access to it, for security purposes, since profiles are de-anonymized in it. Data synthesis uses them for reports frequently.”

“Okay, thanks.” You offered her a feigned, relieved smile, then tacked on a quick fib, “Just wanted a little refresh, in case we got any new hires anytime soon.”

“Already looking to train, Y/N?”

“Oh, maybe…” You laughed nervously, as if shy about being caught with your eye on a promotion already and not anxious from having to discretely interrogate your supervisor.

“You always were ambitious. And wanting to learn more about the program and the Bureau… I like it.” Ms. Kwon nodded her approval. “Feel free to ask about any other brain itches you get, okay?”

“Right, thanks.” You stood up, giving her a polite bow. “I should get to my station. Thank you again, ma’am.”

As you hurried down to your matchmaking station, you easily came to the realization of what you’d need to do next. There was no way you’d be able to just wait until you were promoted to a position with high enough security clearance for the post-matched program, that sounded like it would be people of Ms. Kwon’s position and above. You’d have to get into the program using one of their access points. Somehow. But you didn’t have time to brainstorm a plan for that at the moment, you had matches to read. You sank down into the comfortable, posture-saving chair, and let your mind mesh with the computer as the first one loaded up on the screen.

The next day, you waited at your bus stop, leaning against the shelter and eating your apple one-handed. Pedestrians would occasionally pass by, but your area was mainly young families, so most residents drove their children to daycare or school, then either returned home, or went to work themselves. There was the occasional parent who would jog by with a stroller, or pulling a stroller hitched to the back of a bicycle, but for the most part it was just you and your apple, which you were nearly done with. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a lone jogger approaching, and took a step back to allow him to pass, eyes still down on your phone and apple as your bus hadn’t arrived yet. Except this jogger slowed to a stop in front of you. You followed the red string from the hand that held your apple core up to a somewhat familiar face, looking down at you in mild confusion.

He was admittedly sweatier now, pieces of hair curling and sticking to the skin at his hairline, and his t-shirt sported a damp spot starting at his collar going down the middle of his chest. But this was definitely Sungchan, as signified by the red string connecting your right pinky to his left. He lifted the hem of his shirt to quickly pat drops of sweat away from his face and took one of his earbuds out as he offered you an easygoing smile.

“Hi. Feeling better?” He asked, his tone light and teasing.

“Why are you here?” You practically snapped. You thought you’d be safe at your bus stop of all places, which you were at every day. You knew your neighborhood, the people on your bus, but he still somehow showed up. “I-I take the same bus every day, at the same time, and I’ve never seen you jogging in the morning!”

“Oh, yeah, I stayed at my sister’s place last night, she lives around here.” Sungchan casually gestured over his shoulder at the general vicinity. “So I had to take a different route than normal for my morning run. You live in this area?”

You stared at him, jaw clenched.

“Sorry, probably sounded a little weird asking you that, huh?” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm, it’s just that you said you’re at this same bus stop every day at the same time, so I figured you, uhm… never mind. I’m Jung Sungchan, I realized I didn’t properly introduce myself last time. I’d offer my hand or hug you or something but I’m a bit sweaty…”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to think of how to politely phrase the everything you had to tell him, but he just kept talking.

“I’d like to uh, you know, know your name, too. Since we’re uhm, you know… soulmates? And uh—”

“Sungchan!” You cut him off, and he immediately shut his mouth. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know my name.”

“What? What are you talking about? But we’re—”

“I’m not supposed to have a soulmate!” You gestured wildly to your uniform. “This was a mistake! An error! I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have ever happened. I’ll get it fixed, okay? I’ll figure out how to undo it, and make sure you get put back in.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “I thought the Factory didn’t make mistakes.”

“The computer doesn’t. But somehow, somebody must have put a paper in the wrong stack, or not deleted something when they should’ve, I don’t know! But I’ll fix it.”

The bus finally arrived then with its usual screech of brakes and hiss of the pneumatic doors, and you stepped away from Sungchan towards it.

“I have to go.” You told him with finality, tossing your apple core in a nearby trashcan and boarding the bus without waiting to hear if he had something else to say.

Without having to avoid the entire world now, you actually took your lunch today. But as soon as you stepped outside of the building and turned from the front doors, you spotted a familiar tall figure standing awkwardly off to the side, no longer in sweaty running gear. You made a beeline for Sungchan, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him to the most secluded corner of the open space as you could, away from all your coworkers who were heading off to take their own break.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You hissed at him, constantly glancing around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear you two.

His face did look genuinely regretful, though exasperated at the same time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to find you.”

“Why are you trying to find me?”

He held up his left pinky. You pushed it back down. “I’m working on it!”

“No, I—” He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face. “Can we like… I don’t know, talk, or something?”

“Why?”

“Don’t you think I should get a say in you undoing this?”

You inhaled sharply. “You’re right, Sungchan. I’m sorry. We should talk.”

“Finally, thank you.”

Checking the time for a moment, you then offered, “I have fifty-five minutes left of my lunch break. Do you want to join me?”

“Sure, sure.”

You led him away from The Soulmate Factory, along a familiar path. There was a riverside public park nearby, and on days when you packed your lunch, and it was nice out, you would eat outside.

Sungchan broke the silence, “Will you ever tell me your name?”

“Y/N. Y/L/N Y/N,” you informed him flatly. “Happy?”

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if savoring your name. “Okay, thanks.”

The park was only a couple minutes’ walk, and you had a very specific destination in mind once you two got there.

“I packed a lunch today, sorry,” you said quietly, sitting down on the wall overlooking the river, your feet swinging in the air.

Sungchan sat down next to you. “That’s fine. I can grab something later.”

Opening your lunch bag, you grabbed your sandwich and held out half to him. He accepted it gingerly. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t figured out how to undo it yet, but I can enter a profile into the program easy, so once I do undo it, don’t worry about me putting you back in. You’ll be all set,” you reassured him, taking a bite.

“You’re still talking like this is a done deal. Undoing it.”

“I’d be fixing someone’s mistake, Sungchan. That’s what you do at work. When you see a piece of paper is misfiled, or a decimal is in the wrong place, or a typo on a presentation, you fix it, even if you didn’t do it.”

“It’s just… human error?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all that’s happened here, you think?”

“Whoever was supposed to take my profile out didn’t for some reason, and the computer got it when it wasn’t supposed to,” you confirmed emphatically.

“How does it work, the program? And the profiles, and the computer? All of it?” He questioned.

You gave him as simplified of a version as you could, “Profiles and a bunch of other data points get put into the program, which imports them into the computer. The computer spits out the resulting matches, I—we, matchmakers read them and submit the match reports, triggering the red strings.”

“So it wasn’t given any incorrect information about you or me? Nobody tampered with the system to force it to match us, or falsified a match?”

“No, you can’t do that. It’s impossible.”

“The only hiccup, in your opinion, was that it was given your data at all.”

“Yes, Factory employees aren’t allowed to—”

“Whose rule is that?”

“The Bureau—”

“So, it’s literally just bureaucracy?”

“I like my job,” you huffed, frustrated that he wasn’t seeing the blatantly obvious mistake that had happened. “It’s a rule for a reason. Factory employees are taken out of the program so the public doesn’t think employees are rigging their matches.”

“Can’t rig your soulmate if you don’t get one,” he scoffed.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You say that like having one would be the worst thing in the world!” Sungchan replied incredulously.

“It is for me! Because do you know what would happen if people at the Bureau found out this happened?” You looked at him with wide, pointed eyes. “Just losing my job would probably be the best outcome. And who knows what would happen to you!”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, Sungchan. I’m sure you had imagined all of this, your red string, and the person at the other end of it, going a lot different. And I’m sure it will, when I fix everything.” You stood up, cutting your conversation and lunch short. “Don’t come to my work again, okay? For both our sakes.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry,” he muttered, looking out at the water.

Back at the Factory, you finished eating your lunch at your desk, then shuffled back to the matchmaking room. After swiping in, you realized that you were pretty early, the first one back. Curious, you peered up at Ms. Kwon’s office. She was in there, of course. No way would you be able to attempt to use her computer to access the higher-clearance data. You sank into the chair at your station with a deep sigh. Drumming your fingers along the desktop, you let your eyes flutter shut. You’d have to wait for the others to get back from lunch for the power to be returned to the screens. In the meantime, you could just ruminate.

“Y/N?” Ms. Kwon’s voice came from the direction of her office. “Back so soon?”

You opened your eyes back up, turning to look at her. You nodded sheepishly. “Quick eater…”

“I feel like I’ve seen you in the breakroom with a book before. Nothing today?”

“Forgot it at home.”

“Alright, well… have fun, I suppose.” She turned to go back into her office.

“There’s no way to undo a match, is there?” You blurted out, stopping her in her tracks. She turned back around to look at you curiously as you continued, “Once we press submit on the computer, that’s it?”

Ms. Kwon cocked her head, leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs. “You should’ve been told this in training… No, there isn’t a way to ‘undo’ a match. We aren’t even matching them, just reporting on what the computer says. All the reports do is trigger the strings. The two people are soulmates regardless of the computer. We just intervene so they can find each other.”

You gulped and nodded. “Of course. I knew that… I… I don’t know. Thank you, Ms. Kwon.”

“Another brain itch?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you forced out a couple of chuckles to cover up the dread you felt on the inside.

“Alright. Remember, ‘The Soulmate Factory’ isn’t very accurate. We don’t make soulmates here, they’re already out there.”

“Right, yeah. Terrible nickname, huh?”

She shrugged. “It’s cute. Good for branding. I’ve got a few things to work on, unless you have any other burning questions for me?”

“No, Ms. Kwon, that’s it. Thank you, again.”

“No problem, Y/N.” And with that, she retreated into her office once more.

Dragging your feet back out to your desk at the end of the workday, you chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating pretending to have extra work so you could stay late and try to sneak onto Ms. Kwon’s computer to access the matched profiles. But her office was behind a door with swipe access, it would log that you swiped in after hours. A digital breadcrumb trail.

“Hey,” Jaemin got your attention as you sat in your chair and stared at your screen. You spun your chair around to look at him, lifting your eyebrows in a silent question. “Who was that guy?”

Your blood turned cold. “Huh? Who? When? What guy?”

“Oh now that wasn’t suspicious,” he snorted. “The guy that was waiting for you at lunch whose ass you looked like you were about to kick.”

Oh God. Jaemin saw Sungchan. Who else saw him? You had to assume everybody. You stood up from your chair hastily, fully intent on running away. “Just—Nobody, it doesn’t matter.”

Jaemin gasped, then dropped his voice, “Y/N, you didn’t...”

“Didn’t what?” You squeaked, now ready to stick around. You had to know what he knew, which was obviously the truth.

“You totally did.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Never a good idea, getting involved with people who are destined, even if they don’t have their string yet. Because one day they will.”

Of course. He thought, perfectly reasonably, that you had dated, slept with, done something with somebody who was going to get their red string someday, while you would remain without it forever. You swallowed down your sigh of relief, and instead crossed your arms over your chest, quickly switching trains of thought to follow this new cover story.

“And that’s what I told him, Jaemin, I swear,” you whispered insistently.

Your friend finished up and switched off his desktop then, giving you a frank look. “How many times, Y/N?”

“I told him like a hundred times—”

“No. You know what I mean.”

You hurried down the stairs, Jaemin right with you, rolling your eyes as you tried to think of a number that wasn’t excessive, but messy enough to possibly warrant a guy turning up at your work. “I don’t know... a few! A girl’s got needs, Jaemin!”

He chuckled and shook his head again, pushing the front door open for you. He turned suddenly, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you around to face the building with him, then gestured grandly up and down the entirety of The Soulmate Factory. “A whole ten floors to pick from, Y/N. No messy red strings to worry about after.”

“Yeah, just awkward encounters at work,” you scoffed.

“I heard Park Jisung on the second floor thinks you’re cute.”

“What is this? Middle school?” You elbowed him to get him off of you, ducking out from under his arm and taking off towards your bus stop at a speed walk.

He easily kept pace with you. “I’m just looking out for you. Rule Number 1 of dating with no soulmate: Stay away from people with one.”

“Uh-huh, noted,” you replied shortly. “You done?”

“Are you?”

“Yes! God!”

“Alright.” He was still grinning, clearly finding the whole scenario amusing overall. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jaemin.”

A couple nights later found you rooting through the frozen section of a corner store. You’d gotten home from work after yet another day of getting nowhere with this stupid red string and had wanted nothing more than to wallow in misery with a pint of ice cream. Except you had none in your freezer, and your usual corner store was out of your favorite flavor, so you had to go to one several blocks over.

After paying for the ice cream and grabbing a plastic spoon from the available utensils, you hurried out of the shop. Turning sharply onto a side street to take a shortcut back to your apartment, you nearly tripped over somebody sitting on the sidewalk curb, their feet in the street. They were wearing a hoodie with the hood up, and you jumped back as you went to apologize. Then they looked at you over their shoulder, and you stopped your apologies, flabbergasted and a little pissed off at the universe at this point.

“Oh my god, again?” You stared at Sungchan, eyes bugging out of your head.

“Okay, ouch,” he retorted. He had his own pint of ice cream and plastic spoon in hand, about two-thirds of the way done.

“Sorry, I was just… I wanted to drown my sorrowsin ice cream alone.”

He turned away from you, resting his arms on his knees as he went back to looking down at the pavement. “Well, I’ve got dibs on this street corner for sadly eating ice cream.”

You winced. “Sungchan… I’m…”

Sorry? Was that it? Not for wanting to undo the string. Sorry that this all happened to him in the first place, and that he was now sadly eating ice cream by himself on a street corner? Absolutely. Even though you wanted to remove your red string that connected you two as soulmates, you still felt for the guy as a person, and you felt bad just leaving him here. In a different set of circumstances, you could see the two of you being friends. Against your better judgment, you sat down next to him on the curb, opening your pint of ice cream. He looked at you suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, and you caught a glimpse of his damp, bloodshot eyes in the light of the streetlamp above you two before he focused them back down on his own ice cream.

He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth before speaking again. “We’re going to keep running into each other, don’t you get that?”

“Yeah, I know, the string always gets tighter again. But I didn’t think our string would be like a fucking rubber band.” You shook your head, licking the lid of your container clean. “Honestly, this is kind of ridiculous.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as he ate another bite of ice cream.

“The computer doesn’t make mistakes.” He stated bluntly. “That’s what you said the second time we met. Do you actually think that? That what goes on in there is making soulmates? Finding them? Whatever.”

“I-I mean, yeah.” You carefully carved out your first spoonful from the pristine surface. “We do analytics and data gathering post-matching and… yeah, it works.”

He was quiet as you took your bite of ice cream into your mouth.

“Then we’re soulmates.”

You couldn’t swallow quickly enough, mind reeling at you tried to think of anything to say. “But my profile—”

“Whatever may have happened before the computer got our data doesn’t fucking matter, it still did all the same stuff that it does when giving you all the matches that you read,” Sungchan cut you off, and you saw a fresh tear catch the light as it rolled down his cheek. “And it figured that we were soulmates. But suddenly you’re doubting it? Suddenly it’s not right? What’s so fucking special about you?”

“I…”

“Has somebody’s profile even been through the computer twice? Ever? And you want to just stick me back in there. What if it rejects me because it already processed me once? What if I don’t get another match? What if it breaks the whole damn program? The whole fucking Factory?” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was strong and hoarse at the same time, and you froze up as you felt the anger and hurt in him.

You didn’t have an answer for him. You always had an answer. You always knew, at work, when reading the matches, you just always knew, but you didn’t now. You had nothing, it was all blank, empty in your mind. You swallowed thickly, staring at him as he looked over at you furiously. White hot shame and guilt made your skin prickle.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Sungchan put his pint down on the pavement, then covered your hands with his. Even as you held onto your ice cream, you could feel that his skin was colder than yours. “I’m trying to understand you, Y/N, but this isn’t making any sense to me.”

“I thought I’d have a choice,” you told him shakily, slowly pulling your hands away. “I thought I’d be able to choose…”

He blinked, and his face twisted up with pain as he took his hands back. He grabbed his nearly empty carton, standing up and blotting out the lamp light as he towered over you.

“Trust me, you’ve got a choice. A big one.” He sighed bitterly, tossing his container in a nearby trash can. “I’ve said my piece. Goodnight.”

“Where are you going?” You called after him as he started down the sidewalk.

“Somewhere. When you’re ready, you know how to find me.” He lifted his left arm up and waved his hand, his end of the red string fluttering back and forth in the air with the movement.

You watched him continue to walk down the street, not slowing down or looking over his shoulder once. It was only when you could no longer see him that scalding tears welled up in your vision and stung your eyes. You didn’t bother wiping them away as they streamed down your face and fell onto your shirt, leaving dark patches in their wake. Despite the ice cream being your original intent for coming out, you suddenly didn’t have an appetite, burying your face in your arms to cry alone on the curb.

What’s so fucking special about you?

Sungchan’s words were still in the squeal of the bus brakes in the morning, and the hum of strangers’ conversations, and the shuffle of leaves as the wind shook tree branches. You stared at the grooves of the hardwood floor in the breakroom, hearing his voice in the gurgle of the coffee machine as it ran on the counter behind you. You didn’t even need your usual morning cup, still wide awake, as you had been all night. Fingers snapped in front of your eyes, and you lazily dragged your gaze up to the owner of the hand, Renjun.

“You look like shit,” he deadpanned.

You took a long, deep sigh, not even having enough in you to react to the comment as you usually would. “Do you ever think about your soulmate, Renjun?”

“Uh… no?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Because I don’t have one? Remember?”

“I know, Factory employees get taken out of the program. But doesn’t that mean that the computer is really working with incomplete data or whatever? Since it doesn’t actually have every single person in there?”

He crossed his arms over his chest as he seemed to think about this for a moment. “I guess.”

“If we were all in there, we’d get matched up with somebody. Our soulmate. We’re not all in there, but whoever we would be matched with still is. So they just… get their second-best match?”

“What is it that matchmaking lady always says? ‘The computer does more than we’ll ever know?’”

“Ms. Kwon?”

“Yeah, her.” He nodded, turning around to get his cereal down from the cabinet. He answered your question over his shoulder, “No, I’ve never thought about this, Y/N. But you have clearly been doing a lot of thinking about it.”

“Too much,” you groaned. “My head hurts.”

Your coworker’s voice was a bit softer as he offered, “You, me, and Jaemin—Drinks after work?”

After work you ended up on a rooftop bar with Jaemin and Renjun, nursing your second beer of the night as you stared out at the lights of the city. The two of them were chatting about some movie that was coming out this weekend that they were interested in, and all three of you had your feet kicked up on the ledge of the rooftop.

In a lull in their conversation, a finger poked your head from the left. “What’s wrong?” Jaemin asked.

You sighed. “It’s… ugh.”

Another finger poked the right side of your head. “Come on,” Renjun insisted. “You’ve been weird all week.”

You took a swig of your drink, then let out another deep sigh. “Why did you guys start working at the Factory?”

“What?” Renjun scoffed lightly, as if he couldn’t imagine why you’d even ask that.

“Why did you start working at the Factory?” You repeated. “I mean, accepting a life without a soulmate.”

“My parents met at the Factory, actually,” Jaemin said.

“Wait, really?” You turned to him curiously. You knew that Factory employees dating each other wasn’t off-limits, and theoretically that meant they could settle down and have lives sort of like soulmates, but you’d never heard much about it actually happening.

“Yeah, they weren’t soulmates. So it was one of those things where, I don’t know, I got to grow up knowing that there was another way to live.” Jaemin shrugged casually. “I didn’t even really think about the no-soulmate thing when I applied, they just always talked about how much they loved their jobs, it sounded like a cool place to work.”

“I applied at a bunch of different places, this is the first one that called me back,” Renjun gave his own answer.

“Why did you start working here?” Jaemin turned your question back on you.

You tapped your fingernail against the side of your bottle. “Pay’s not bad… And I didn’t… hate the idea of having a say in my love life, you know? Instead of this string showing up one day and telling me who I’m supposed to be with forever. Getting to choose on my own.”

“Sounds like you don’t think the computer knows what it’s doing,” Renjun snorted.

“No, it does! It does! I just… didn’t mind the idea of never knowing.”

Jaemin furrowed his brow curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Like… I can wake up tomorrow and have cereal, or eggs, or buy breakfast on my way into work. There could be someone new on my bus in the morning. I can get a haircut, or dye my hair. It could rain tomorrow, or be sunny, or overcast. Life is always in flux, always changing, new, different.”

“Knowing who your soulmate is, would be too… certain?”

“Some people like having that constant in their life,” Renjun pointed out. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, like what if you get your soulmate and they kind of suck? Then you kind of have to ask yourself what did you do to deserve someone who kind of sucks? Because that’s literally the best you can do,” you ranted, gesturing around to the night sky with your bottle. “At least without a string, there’s always a chance that there’s someone better out there.”

“Ah, you’ve got the Boy Scout mindset,” Jaemin said knowingly. “Just in case. Just in case it rains, I’ll bring an umbrella. Just in case whoever you’re seeing now kind of sucks, you can always try again.”

You crossed your arms defensively. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, since you don’t have a string.”

“Very polite way to say she has commitment issues, Jaemin,” Renjun snickered.

“Rude!” You smacked his arm with the back of your hand.

He wasn’t dissuaded by your minor battery, however. Bringing his two feet back down to the ground, he leaned his elbows forward on his knees and looked over at you, “Sounds like to me, you want infinite second chances. Just in case.”

“There’s only so many of us at the Factory, really,” Jaemin pointed out. “Wouldn’t a soulmate actually be infinite second chances? Since you know you’re destined to be with them, you can kind of mess up as often as you want?”

You frowned, thinking of Sungchan walking away from you. “You really think so? I mean, they’re still a person. Wouldn’t they stop putting up with you after so long? Even if they were your soulmate, I’m sure being alone would be better than having a shit soulmate.”

“Well, then you have to ask: What is a soulmate? Just the best you can do? Or someone who’s going to make you better? Is there such a thing as a shit soulmate?”

“There has to be, right? There’s bad people, and those people have soulmates.”

“Are they bad forever? Are they bad people to their soulmates? Or do they also have shit people for soulmates? So, relative to each other, they don’t even realize that they have a shit soulmate?”

“My head hurts again…” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples.

A long silence passed as you three each finished off your beers. Renjun shrugged and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt. “Thank God we’ll never know, huh?”

Your Saturday was spent walking. Walking all over town, from your apartment to your bus stop, to the park where Sungchan had been playing Frisbee before, to the corner store where you’d last seen him, and everywhere in between. You kept your head on a swivel, straining for any sign of his tall head over the crowd. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.

When you finally gave up mid-afternoon and went back to your apartment for a late lunch, you knew that you were actually relieved that you hadn’t found him today. If you had ran into him, you didn’t even know what you’d say, where to start, where to end, what to say in the middle. Your head was a jumbled mess, simultaneously too full and too empty. There was no way you’d be able to articulate a single comprehensible word when you yourself didn’t know a shred about anything that you were thinking or feeling.

Sunday you were kept busy with Sungchan’s lingering question. What’s so special about you?

In the moment, it felt like he was asking why you thought you were special enough to be exempt from something that everyone else experienced: getting a red string and finding their soulmate. But as you went about mindless chores in your apartment, doing the dishes, folding laundry, you thought about him.

What’s so special about Sungchan? What would make him your soulmate? And you wondered if he was asking himself the same questions about you.

Monday morning you almost missed your bus. You’d been so distracted going about your morning routine that you ran straight from your apartment building onto the bus, the doors closing right after you. The elderly couple was on today, and you plopped into your seat in front of them, offering them a breathless smile and greeting.

“Tough morning, dear?” The woman asked you knowingly.

“Oh, a bit,” you laughed. “Tough couple of weeks, honestly. But I’ll make it. What’s the new exhibit for this month?”

“It’s a contemporary artist who does large-scale mixed media collages,” the husband explained.

“That sounds so cool! Is there a particular theme for the collection on display or it more eclectic?”

“Oh, we don’t read up much before,” she said with a shake of her head. “We like to go in blind, no presuppositions or expectations, good or bad.”

You continued chatting about the museum with them until their stop to get off, and watched fondly as the man helped his wife up, the both of them bidding you farewell before departing. As the bus peeled away, you were able to glimpse them starting arm-in-arm down the sidewalk together.

After dropping your backpack in your chair, you headed towards the breakroom, where you found Jaemin hunched over something at a counter, his back to the door.

“Renjun’s cereal?” You surmised immediately.

He jumped in place, turning around clutching his chest. “Fuck! You scared the shit out of me, Y/N! Don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” He did in fact have a familiar box in his hand, clearly having been pouring some into a cup.

“I wasn’t sneaking. You just flipped out because you know you’re being a little cereal thief right now.”

He quickly closed up the box and put it away. “There. Like it never happened.”

“Why don’t you just bring your own box of cereal?”

“It just tastes better if it’s free.”

“Stolen.”

“Synonyms.” He grinned slyly, shooting you a wink as he walked out.

As you were milling about, trying to gather everything to start the first pot of coffee, Renjun entered, heading straight for where his cereal was stored. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he grabbed it, froze midair, and tested the weight of it in his hand.

“Na Jaemin…” He hissed, slamming the container onto the counter.

“Suggestion—” You announced, turning around to look at him with your arms crossed over your chest. “Keep the cereal at your desk instead of leaving it here unattended where he steals it all the time.”

“I never keep food at my desk. What if it attracts ants?”

“Padlock.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You may be onto something there…”

Renjun wandered out of the room, still musing over this with the cereal box tucked under his arm. You realized you didn’t really want a cup of coffee and put the empty coffee mug away.

The weekly agenda meeting was short and sweet, and you were slow to follow the other matchmakers down the hall after. You were the very last one to swipe in, and to take your seat at your station. Everyone else was already reading their matches, but you just stared at your blank screen, not even turning it on yet. At some point, two weeks ago, someone in this room, one of your coworkers—or maybe even you—had read a match result, looked up a bunch of numbers, and submitted a match report that had changed your life forever. You listened to them clacking away at their keyboards, dozens more strangers’ lives being irreparably altered like yours was.

“Y/N?” Your name was called from across the room, and you whipped your head around to look over at Ms. Kwon, standing in the doorway of her office. She gestured for you to come over. “A moment?”

“Oh, of course, ma’am.” You rushed to stand, hurrying up the stairs and following her into her office.

She closed the door behind you, sitting back down behind her desk, and offering the chairs across from her for you. You nervously took the one closest to the door.

“Is everything alright with you?” Your supervisor asked gently. “You’ve been sitting at your station for the past fifteen minutes and haven’t turned the screen on…”

“Sorry…” You winced, self-conscious as you pictured Ms. Kwon watching you stare at a blank screen for fifteen minutes. “I’m uhm… I…”

“Have something on your mind?”

“It’s worth it, right? Giving up your soulmate to work here?”

Ms. Kwon took your question in stride, folding her hands together over her desk as she answered, “It’s good work that we do here, Y/N, don’t get me wrong. Necessary. But choosing to live without a soulmate, that’s not a noble sacrifice on our part. We’re not any better than anybody else because we choose to work here and they don’t. I don’t know a single executive here who would talk about it like that.”

You could feel all façades slip off your face, your eyes widening slightly and your mouth parting, though no sound came out.

At your apparent speechlessness, Ms. Kwon continued, “We’re not... monks or nuns taking some holy vow, Y/N. It’s morally neutral. Neither good nor bad. It just is.”

A split-second of rage burst inside you. “Then why would any of you choose it? Why would anybody go without a soulmate?”

“Why did you?” She asked you calmly.

“I... was afraid to know,” you admitted quietly.

“Everyone here is sort of like that. They have some other reason. It’s usually not a good one, but they never have to confront it. Ever.”

“So the Factory... is the easy way out?”

“Y/N, listen to the words I’m telling you: It is neither good nor bad to choose to work here. It just is.”

“Is it good to have your soulmate, then?”

“I am not the arbiter of good or bad in your life. I’m just your boss,” she replied, sounding a bit tired now. “Look, you’re very smart. That’s why you were chosen for matchmaking. But I’m urging you to stop this line of thinking here. This is how you end up—”

“I’m resigning,” you declared, and suddenly all of the noise in your mind was quiet.

“That is what I was afraid of,” she sighed. “May I ask why?”

“I… have a soulmate.”

“Of course you do.” Ms. Kwon smiled placidly. “All of us at the Factory do. But quitting now will not put your profile back in to get matched with them.”

“No, I—I was matched. Somehow, I don’t know how, but… I have a red string, Ms. Kwon.” You held up your right hand, pointing to your pinky, even though you knew she couldn’t see it. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden lightness of your shoulders. “I have a soulmate, and… this is just a job. It’s a good job, and I love it. But there’s other jobs. I don’t have another soulmate.”

She was quiet for a moment, simply looking at you intensely. After a moment, she reached out to hover her hands over her keyboard. “Would you mind if I took just a moment to confirm? It’ll take less than a minute.”

“Sure, go for it.”

Ms. Kwon quickly typed away and clicked a few things on her mouse as you quite literally twiddled your thumbs over your lap. Just a few seconds later, she took her glasses off, rubbing between her brows as she let out a deep sigh. “So it seems you have been…” She sat back in her chair. “Have you… found them?”

“Uhm, yes, ma’am,” you nodded awkwardly.

“This is why you were so interested in undoing matches as of late, I presume.”

“Yes… but not anymore.”

She sat there for a few more moments, eyes closed, before putting her glasses back on and sitting up straight again. “I accept your resignation, Y/N. With a heavy heart, might I add.”

“That means a lot, Ms. Kwon.”

“There will need to be an investigation.”

“I figured.”

“I expect full cooperation from both you and your soulmate.”

“Oh, uh, sure, sure.”

Ms. Kwon looked at you oddly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“We’re not… exactly… friendly… right now…” You admitted quietly. “And it’s completely my fault…”

She let out a few soft, wistful chuckles. “He didn’t take too kindly to you attempting to ‘undo’ your string, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.” You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek regretfully.

“The string will tighten again, Y/N,” she reassured you, her voice kind. “The computer doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Right. Thank you, Ms. Kwon.”

She cleared her throat, becoming formal and businesslike again. “Provided the investigation turns up exactly what I think it will, I’ll also write an excellent reference letter for you, if you would like.”

“What do you think the investigation will turn up?”

“A mistake. Something was misfiled. A paper was put in the wrong stack. A name left off an email. I don’t think you tampered with the program somehow to put yourself back in. Did you?”

“No, ma’am, not at all.”

“There we go.” She shrugged. “Do you have anything else for me?”

“I get my severance pay and all that, right?”

“Of course.”

You stood up, set your key card on the desk, and shook her hand before leaving her office, walking right out of the matchmaking room as the others kept at it at their stations. Making a beeline for your desk, you could see several heads of your coworkers popping up to peer at you curiously before looking back down at their computers. One remained up and focused intently on you from further down your row, Renjun.

As you stopped next to Jaemin and opened your backpack at your desk, he took his headphones off to turn to you. “Uh hey…?”

“Hi,” you replied cheerily, beginning to grab personal possessions off your desk and load them into your bag.

“What are you doing?”

At this point, Renjun had stood up from his desk and stalked over to you two, eyes wide as he took in what you were doing. “What’s going on?”

“I quit!” You informed them, not being particularly quiet about it.

“What?!” “Seriously?!”

“Seriously,” you confirmed, unplugging the receiver for your personal wireless mouse, and putting it back inside said mouse, before chucking the whole thing into your bag. “Resigned. Quit. Handed in my zero day notice.”

“Why? I thought you loved this job!” Renjun sputtered out, his hands on his hips.

“Yeah! Like, I thought you were going to be Director one day!” Jaemin nodded. “What happened?”

You looked around the wide-open bullpen, still having enough tact to not want to blab about your string in front of everybody. Zipping up your backpack and throwing one strap over your shoulder, you asked your friends innocently, “Walk me out?”

They practically dragged you down the stairs, flanking you on either side, none of you saying a word until you were outside.

“What’s going on?” Renjun demanded as soon as the front doors closed behind you. “Is it something we need to know about? Should we be looking for other jobs?”

“Did you ask for a raise or something and they wouldn’t give it to you?” Jaemin asked. “Or a promotion? Or—”

“No, it’s nothing like that. You guys are fine,” you promised them, lacing your two hands together in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you admitted, “I have a red string, and I found my soulmate.”

Their jaws dropped, and they looked at each other, flabbergasted, then at you, then each other again, then stared at you. Renjun was the first to shake himself out of his stupefied state, “How did that even—”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know how much I can even say until the Factory finishes their investigation, so…” You trailed off. “Yeah, that’s why I quit. And Ms. Kwon didn’t ask me to stay.”

Jaemin’s eyes widened comically as he pointed at you accusatorily. “The guy at lunch, was he your—”

“Yeah, that was him.” You rubbed the back of your neck nervously. “Anyway, you guys can’t say anything to anybody else at the Factory, okay? Just let management handle this however they want to. Keep your noses out of it.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Renjun asked.

“Uh… try to find him? Again?” You said sheepishly.

“You lost him?” Jaemin asked in disbelief. “Like, in a well or something? How? What?”

“We kind of had a fight… Let’s just say the ball’s in my court, and I don’t know how to play.”

He patted you on the back. “You’ve got this, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you nodded to him gratefully. “I should let you two get back to work now. Thank you both, again, for being the best work buddies a girl could ask for.”

“Hey, don’t talk like you’re going off and dying,” Renjun scoffed, poking the right side of your head.

“Yeah, we’re your real buddies, too.” Jaemin poked the left side of your head. “I still owe you your book.”

“You two have got to make sure you don’t kill each other over cereal in the mornings on your own now. I won’t be there to referee,” you warned as you took a step back, facing them.

“As long as Jaemin keeps his grubby mitts to himself, no problem.” Renjun nodded.

Jaemin grinned. “No promises.”

You laughed, going in to give each of them a hug. “Bye, guys. I’ll see you around.”

And you proceeded to walk. From the riverside park near the Factory, to the curb where you’d eaten ice cream together, to your favorite bookstore. You walked until your feet ached and your stomach growled, and even after that. You found new parts of the city that you’d never seen, never had any reason to go to before. As you came up to a street of small shops, you peered into each window carefully as you passed by. Your feet skidded to a stop all on their own and your heart leapt to your throat as you inadvertently made eye contact with a patron right on the other side of the glass of one store. The exact person you’d been looking for.

While Sungchan froze in place, you ran for the entrance to the shop, throwing open the door and ducking around shelves and displays to find him still glued to the same spot, staring out the window at the pavement where you used to be. You grabbed his left hand with your right, watching the string complete itself, and pulled him around to face you.

“Sungchan!” You said his name breathlessly, a relieved smile on your face. “Found you!”

“Y/N…” His voice was guarded, uncertain, gaze trailing over your red jumpsuit that you were still in. “Are you… on your lunch break?”

“No, I uh, I resigned this morning,” you told him, not an ounce of remorse in your tone.

His eyes widened, and his demeanor immediately changed as he looked down at you with concern. “What? You didn’t have to—Y/N, what happened? Oh my god, what are you going to do?”

A throat was very conspicuously cleared from nearby, and you snapped your head over in the direction of it, spotting a group of several guys leaning against shelves further down the store, a few trying to look busy and not like they had just been listening to your conversation. One stood at the front of them, looking directly at Sungchan.

“Oh, sorry, guys,” Sungchan waved them off. “Go on without me, okay?”

And with that, he set down the merchandise he had been browsing—which you were now seeing was a stack of old magazines; it looked as though you were in a thrift store of some kind—and pulled you out the door by the hand. Just a little ways down the street was a bench overlooking the river, and the two of you stopped there.

“I wouldn’t have been able to keep working there with a red string, Sungchan,” you explained. “If I didn’t resign, I would’ve been fired whenever they found out. I wanted to tell them myself.”

He frowned. “When I said you had a choice…”

“I chose to keep the string, and stop looking for a way to undo it. I know that’s what you were asking me.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask…” he sighed. “What made you change your mind?”

“A lot of different things, but… I think realizing that I’m not that special.”

“Y/N, I—”

“No, I mean, I kind of had this complex about working at the Factory. Thinking that it was some sacrifice for the greater good, me giving up my soulmate so I could help other people find theirs. But like… it was just a job.” You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded now, even just a few hours after resigning.

Sungchan smiled a little at that, but still looked pensive. “So what are you going to do for work now?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, but couldn’t keep the giddy grin off your face. “That’s really scary… but it’s kind of exciting, in a weird way, right? I’ve had the same job since I got out of school, and now I can do anything.”

“We’ll find you a job. That’s like, Priority One, okay?” He reassured you. “We’ll do some brainstorming, find some job listings, we’ll figure something out.”

“We?”

“Yeah?” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not leaving you out to dry after all this.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.” You fidgeted with your fingers, eyes gracing over the finished red string again. “And uh, if that’s Priority One, then Priority Two is probably going to have to be the investigation.”

“The what?”

“The Bureau has to investigate how this even happened, our match. Me resigning was just the beginning, not the end. They’re expecting our full cooperation.”

“What are we going to have to cooperate with, exactly?” He crossed his arms.

“They’ll probably just want to ask us some questions. Me more than you, since I’m the one who actually worked there. Ms. Kwon—my old boss—made it sound like it’d be more a formality than anything else. I’m sure they’re already auditing all my match reports for the past two years, and looking through my key card log, and going through my computer as we speak.”

“Alright, yeah. Fine.”

With his agreement, the two of you were quiet for a moment, and you felt an air of uncertainty. You’d found each other, you were soulmates, you weren’t trying to undo your string anymore, and yet you were still practically strangers. Where did you go from here?

“So… what’s your favorite color?” You asked.

“What?” He blinked, seeming confused at the sudden change in topic.

“I don’t know anything about you…” You said quietly, feeling your skin get warm with embarrassment. “I don’t know, that’s just the first thing that came to mind. Forget it, it was stupid.”

He chuckled and answered anyway, “Purple. My favorite color is purple.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“What’s yours?”

“Pink. Uh, cotton candy pink, specifically.”

“That’s good. That’s really good.” He was still laughing, more than your awkward question warranted.

“Okay, what’s so funny? Other than me being stupid.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just…” He reassured you, trailing off as he seemed to be trying to put his thoughts together. “There’re all these books, and magazine articles and stuff, you know. 15 Things to Not Do When You Meet Your Soulmate. 10 Best Opening Lines for Meeting the One. I Met My Soulmate and It’s Awkward: Now What? How to Get Over First Meeting Flutters. And you’re nothing like that. You’ve probably never even read anything of that sort of stuff, have you?”

“No…” You shook your head, then squinted at him suspiciously. “Have you?”

He held his hands up defensively. “Well, call it morbid curiosity—”

You couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to cover it with your hand, having the perfect image of him lying on his bed on his stomach, legs kicking up behind him as he scrolled on his phone late at night reading cheesy internet columns about love.

“And that’s funny, yeah, okay. I didn’t fool you with the… yeah.” Sungchan laughed again, this time at himself, and you were quickly starting to think that it might be your favorite sound.

“It’s cute, it’s cute!” You promised. “I’m uhm, sure me running away really threw a wrench in whatever great opening line you had planned.”

“Yes and no.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You were really pretty, and when I looked at you, I suddenly forgot every word I knew. And then you ran away, and I was just confused at how I had messed it up before opening my mouth.”

Your body burned on the inside and outside twofold from him simultaneously saying you were so pretty it made him speechless, and also the shame at how stupendously you had fucked up your first meeting. You squeezed your eyes shut, covered your face with both hands, and shook your head as you groaned out an apology, “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, really— Helped snap me out of it, you know?” He chuckled, and you were glad he could at least see some humor in it now. “Looking back now, completely understandable for you to do that. Sorry again for chasing you through the streets, I’m sure that didn’t help.”

“Also understandable on your part,” you said. Before you could scramble for another thing to ask Sungchan, your stomach rumbled loudly, and you cringed, knowing full well that he had definitely been able to hear that. “Sorry…”

“I was supposed to grab food with the guys anyway.” Sungchan stood up. “Let’s get you something to eat, hm?”

You followed him to a small café a couple streets away, and after grabbing your food, you two sat at a table outside. “So what do you do? For work? Or are you a student? You know quite a bit about my old job, but…”

“Oh, I’m an artist.”

“What kind? Like, what medium? Is that the right way to ask that? I guess I’m asking what kind of stuff you make?”

“Don’t worry, those were all good questions. Different questions, but good.” He smiled warmly, taking a sip of his drink before answering. “I mostly focus on making mixed media collages. Sometimes I source my materials from other places, but sometimes I make it myself. Take my own pictures, paint it myself, put the clay on myself. Just depends. So I work with a lot of different materials and mediums, too.”

“Oh!” You immediately thought of the couple you talked to on the bus that morning. “You should totally check out the art museum on 2nd this month! I heard they have an exhibit showcasing mixed media collages. I haven’t been, but there’s this couple on my bus in the mornings who goes every month, they told me about it today.”

“Did they say the artist?” He asked mildly, picking at his food with his utensil.

“No, they don’t do any research before, they like to go in blind.”

“Yeah, uhm, that’s my exhibit,” he practically whispered the last two words behind a napkin as he wiped his mouth with it, looking down at his plate. His ears were bright red, and he grabbed his drink to take another long sip.

Your eyes widened. “Wait really?”

“I understand if you think I’m lying, it’s on the exhibit webpage on the museum website, but yeah…”

“Sungchan, that’s so cool!” You exclaimed, even as you brought out your phone to bring up the website. Not because you didn’t believe him, but just because reading the headline of how the museum was proud to feature ‘New Local Artist Jung Sungchan’ in an exclusive exhibit was practically surreal. He, however, still couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Why do you look like you want to die?”

“I didn’t want to use my real name, but my… manager thought it would be a good idea. And obviously I had to tell you.” He rubbed a hand over his face, making everything from his forehead to his neck pink. “I just hate people looking at my art and thinking they know me. They can look at my art all I want, project onto it, feel from it, call it stupid, say they could have done better, I don’t care, I just don’t want them to know it’s mine and think they know me because of it.”

“Who’s your manager that made you use your real name? Don’t artists use pseudonyms sometimes?”

“My sister’s husband. He’s good at his job, and he’s done a lot for me. I’m really thankful for him, honestly. It was more like when I was first starting out, he thought that using a pseudonym would make me seem sort of pretentious. People would like a regular guy a lot more.” Sungchan sighed. “I agreed, and have regretted that decision with every art show I’ve attended since.”

You nodded slowly, tapping your fingers on the tabletop in a rhythm as you thought. “So… why do you think you make art, then?”

“I have to,” he shrugged. “Not making art would be worse. People connecting with my art… I like that. But I don’t like when they try to assume things about me because of my art. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” you assured him. “Death of the collagist.”

His face cracked into a grin. “Exactly.”

“Would you mind if I went to your exhibit sometime?” You asked. “You totally don’t have to come, I’m sure that’d be weird for you. But I’d like to go see it, and not make any assumptions about you at all.”

“It’s a public museum, I can’t stop you from going.”

“Well, yes… I don’t know, it’s still your art, and I’m not just a member of the public, am I?”

Sungchan’s eyes held a softness as he looked at you across the table, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not just a member of the public to me.”

“And you’re not just some random artist to me,” you responded.

“I wouldn’t mind if you went, on one condition.”

“Mm?” You prompted, expecting it to be something along the lines of ‘don’t tell me what you think’ or ‘don’t ever mention it to me.’ Nothing at all in the realm of what he actually requested.

“I go with you.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, yeah, of course!”

“Then it’s a date.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling shy at him calling it a date, turning your eyes back down to your food. “Yeah, okay. A date.”

You ended up spending the whole day with Sungchan, just getting to know each other. And browsing online job listings for you—turns out he wasn’t kidding about that being Priority One.

He used revising your résumé as an opportunity to learn more about you. Education—Oh where did you go to school? What did you study? Which devolved into you two telling stories about classes you liked, professors and teachers you loved and hated, and old school friends. Work Experience—So what actually was your official title? What were your job responsibilities? Which led to you fondly reminiscing in your times at the office with Jaemin and Renjun, talking about your training to be a Systems Analytics Specialist, and his disbelief in how exactly you even did your job. It was when you got to the Skills portion that you balked a little bit. It felt like your only skills were specific to the Factory: reading the matches from the computer, inputting match reports, keeping Renjun from killing Jaemin over a box of cereal. Sungchan helped you get a bit creative with your technological experience, creative thinking, quick learning, and conflict resolution skills.

As he walked you back to your apartment after getting dinner together, you were still asking him your never-ending stream of questions. “So what were you supposed to be doing with your friends today?”

“I was collecting.” He craned his neck up, and you followed his line of vision to look up at the few specks of light in the sky that you could see against the brightness of the city. “Gathering materials for collages. Thrift stores are pretty good for old magazines, books, newspapers, photo albums, all kinds of stuff. The guys were tagging along, they wanted to get lunch and do some shopping too.”

“Oh. Sorry for taking you away from them.”

He gave you a funny look. “No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re not going to apologize for that.”

You blinked at him in confusion. “Uh… I think I already did?”

He stopped you two in the middle of the sidewalk, devoid of other pedestrians, holding your eye contact very seriously. “Thank you for finding me today.”

“Oh,” you chuckled nervously. “You’re welcome. Thank you for… everything else about today. The look on your face when I found you—I was sort of afraid that you were going to run this time.”

He laughed, continuing to walk again. “Did I really look like that?”

“Through the window, yeah. When I came in the shop, though, it was more like… you thought you were dreaming. Like you were going to pinch yourself at any moment, just in case. Or you thought I was pranking you.”

“Well, you’ll have to understand why I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high; all our previous meetings didn’t quite have fairytale endings.”

“No, they didn’t,” you agreed.

“But this time felt different. So I let myself be a little hopeful,” he admitted with a grin, nudging your arm with his. “And I was right.”

“How’d you figure that?”

“You didn’t act like finding me was a terrible inconvenience, first.”

You winced. “Mm-mhm.”

“And the smile on your face when you ran in and grabbed my hand.”

“What about it?”

“I’d never seen you smile before that.” He then added a teasing, “I didn’t know if you could.”

“Hey! I wasn’t that bad.”

He snickered, affectionately bumping his elbow against yours again. You rolled your eyes, smiling as you elbowed him back. You arrived at the main entry to your building soon, and you stopped there to say goodbye to Sungchan. He looked between the door that you were standing in front of, and the familiar bus stop just a few meters down the road, well within view.

“Oh wow, it must have really freaked you out when I jogged by your stop, huh?” He commented, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, you can imagine the ‘ready to fistfight the divine universe’ energy I had in my body at that point.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Pretty sure I witnessed some of it, too.”

You looked longingly at the bus stop, holding yourself, and sighed. “It’s going to be weird not getting up and going to work tomorrow.”

“So what are you going to do tomorrow? With no work?”

You passed a bubble side to side in your mouth as you thought, then shrugged. “Sleep in?”

“Great way to start the day.”

“And then… send my résumé to some of those places we found?”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Probably read outside somewhere if it’s a nice day?”

“Ooh, sounds nice.”

You dug your toe into the ground. “I don’t know, what are you doing?”

“Sleep in, and I promised Shotaro I’d help him with this thing, but then… if you don’t mind the company, I think reading outside sounds pretty lovely?”

“What are you helping Shotaro with?”

“Taking Instagram pictures.”

You let out a short round of giggles. “I’d like to spend time with you tomorrow too, Sungchan. Just let me know when you’re done helping Shotaro with that thing.”

“It’ll be the quickest photoshoot he’s ever done in his life.”

“No, still do it right!”

“It’ll be right, just quick.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, but the fond smile on your face very obviously negated that sentiment. “Goodnight, Sungchan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And with that, you unlocked your building door and gave him one last wave over your shoulder before closing and locking it back up behind you. Alone in the stairwell, you let out a sigh of contentment.

The next morning, you slept in on a Tuesday for the first time in a while and didn’t put on your red jumpsuit after getting out of bed. Instead, you shuffled out to your kitchen and made yourself breakfast, which you slowly enjoyed with a cup of tea. After taking your sweet time in a nice hot shower, you got into a t-shirt and pants, and sat on your couch to start sending in applications to new jobs. As you typed on your laptop, you’d catch the occasional flash of the red loop around your pinky finger, but instead of filling you with you dread or apprehension, it now made you smile a bit, and push on with your task, knowing you had someone right there in your corner just on the other end of that string. After a couple hours of filling out applications, searching through more prospective job listings, and finding a few new ones that had been posted since you and Sungchan looked yesterday, you deemed that to be plenty for your first morning of job hunting. It was nearly lunchtime, and you hadn’t left your apartment yet. Looking outside, you saw that it was sunny, with a few passing clouds creating occasional patches of shadow, and breezes gently rustled the leaves on the trees. A perfectly lovely day.

Gathering up a couple books, you packed a light going-out bag, then headed out. As you passed your bus stop, you thought of the regulars on your morning commute, and wondered if they noticed your disappearance this morning, and if they thought anything of it, like you thought of the primary school teacher sometimes. You hoped the sisters got to school okay, and that the elderly couple liked Sungchan’s exhibit, and even that the office workers who you had never spoken to had good days at work—not too terribly stressful. As you had just arrived at your destination and picked out the perfect spot to read, your phone buzzed with a text.

[sungchan: done! with a satisfied customer, might i add]

[you: oh good! i’m done with my applications for the morning too! out reading right now]

You sent your location, then took your book out as there was another buzz.

[sungchan: omw :) ]

You were so caught up in the chapter you were reading that you didn’t realize Sungchan had arrived until he set his bag down next to you. You jumped a little bit, closing the book on your thumb as you clutched your hand over your heart, which was now beating wildly out of rhythm.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to give you a scare.” Sungchan didn’t look that sorry, as he had a clearly amused smirk on his face as he looked down at you. “I did call your name.”

“It’s alright, sorry I didn’t hear you.” You waved off his apology, then nodded to the spot beside you for him to sit down. “Lovely day out, huh?”

“It is,” he agreed, stretching out his long legs as he settled in against the large tree trunk. He reached into his bag, and you looked with intrigue at what book he was going to read for today.

You perked up with interest as you recognized the cover immediately. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to read that book! I love that author. Just haven’t picked it up yet.”

“Yeah it uhm—” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “It was the book you were looking at when we met. The one you dropped.”

“You…”

“I didn’t know how long it was going to be until the next time I saw you, so I went back and bought it. You know, sort of hoping I could learn something about you in the meantime.”

“And in the meantime, I was scheming to undo our string…” You muttered, eyes falling to your lap.

“Which you, no offense, failed at,” he clicked his tongue and elbowed you teasingly. “I’ll speedread so you can borrow it after me, okay?”

“No, read it right! That author’s so good, you’ll miss stuff!”

“I’ll read it carefully! Just also super fast.”

“Those are literally antonyms when it comes to reading!” You insisted.

“You’ve never seen me speedread then.”

You smacked your open book over your face, despite knowing that he was joking. “Oh my god…”

Two weeks later, and you and Sungchan were going to The Soulmate Factory for your interviews. You were sort of surprised it had taken them this long to talk to you, but at the same time, that it was happening this quickly. It felt weird going to the Factory not in your jumpsuit, but you knew that would’ve been possibly the worst choice. So you instead put on something nice, presentable, but not overly formal. After all, it wasn’t your job interview again. Sungchan was wearing a button-up shirt, a stark contrast to the rather casual attire you’d always seen him in before. As the two of you entered the lobby of the Factory, you could see him looking around at everything with an air of suspicion.

You stopped at the front desk, giving the attendant a polite smile and starting to introduce yourself, despite having just been colleagues a few weeks ago, “Hi, uhm Y/L/N Y/N and Jung Sungchan, here for a 9:00 appointment with Ms. Kwon?”

“Of course,” she nodded, looking between you and Sungchan with a strained smile of her own. “You… two can have a seat. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Leading Sungchan over to sit on a settee nearby, you looked around, taking a few deep breaths as your knee bounced up and down nervously on its own. You had gotten the two of you here fifteen minutes early, so you already knew that you’d be waiting for some time.

“Why did she say it like that?” He hissed to you under his breath.

“Say what?” You whispered back, looking at her out of the corner of your eye to see if she was listening, but it looked like she was taking an incoming call.

“You two can have a seat.” He repeated snidely. “And the way she looked at us? Looked at you? Like we’re the weird ones for being soulmates?”

“I told you, Sungchan, there’s a reason Bureau employees don’t get soulmates. People will think I rigged it somehow. Even other employees.”

“You said it was impossible for you to have messed with it. Shouldn’t they of all people know that?”

“Well, with me being a matchmaker…” You tried to think of how to succinctly sum this up without telling Sungchan too much stuff that he wasn’t supposed to know right before his interview. “Even other Bureau employees don’t know what goes on in the matchmaking room. I’m sure there’s been rumors since I’ve left.”

“But you didn’t do anything. What’s the point of working here if you’re just as bad as the people who don’t?”

“They also probably think that when this gets out I’m going to give the Bureau and the employees here a bad rep, make the public distrust them for a while. Even the employees that don’t think I did anything will probably hate me at least a little for that.”

“Well I still don’t like it,” he huffed, resting an arm along the back of the furniture behind you.

“You’re allowed to not like it. I’m just saying there’s not much we can do about it.”

He proceeded to focus his hater energy on making comments about the décor being tacky, and you couldn’t help but giggle quietly and join in. You never really thought about it much before, but being called The Soulmate Factory and having a color palette of red, pink, and white was a bit much. You two also had a small game of how many “subtle” red lines you could find in the designs of decorative throw pillows, rugs, carpeting, and pieces of abstract art on the walls. Finally, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and looked up to see a somewhat familiar face. It wasn’t Ms. Kwon, as you had hoped for, but Lee Jeno, one of the executive assistants that you often saw when he was sent down from the ninth floor on important errands by his bosses.

“Jung Sungchan?” He called, looking directly at Sungchan.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He lifted his hand that had been resting on his leg between pointing out tacky décor. He ushered you up with him with the hand that was behind you on the couch. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

“Sorry, just Mr. Jung right now,” Jeno clarified with a slight wince.

Sungchan looked like he was about to argue, but you patted his arm reassuringly. “It’ll be fine, Sungchan. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

He sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Alright, fine. I’ll be back soon.”

“Be good.”

“Always am.”

You watched him follow Jeno up the stairs, Sungchan casting you one last glance over his shoulder before the two of them fully disappeared from your view. It was then that you finally sat back down, and started chewing on your thumbnail.

Only fifteen minutes later Jeno came back down the stairs. Alone. “Y/N?” He addressed you more casually.

You stood up and didn’t hide the concern on your face as you looked around behind him. “Where’s Sungchan?”

“Mr. Jung has been moved to another waiting room. You’ll see him after your interview.”

Letting out a breath, you tried really hard not to shoot the messenger as you responded. “Fine. Lead the way, Jeno.”

The fact that you were going up the stairs and not to the elevator was interesting. You must not be going to his bosses’ floor, unless they wanted you to collapse on your way there.

“It’s good to see you again, by the way,” your former coworker said quietly. “I had to hand-deliver a memo to Ms. Kwon the other day and the matchmaking room was weirdly empty without you at your station.”

“Thanks.” A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “I wouldn’t have even noticed your presence if I was there but… it’s nice to know that someone noticed my absence.”

“Well, we did our intro training together. You don’t forget those people.”

“No, you don’t,” you agreed. “Us, Jaemin, Renjun, Donghyuck in Budgeting.”

“Is it nice? Your life now? Don’t tell me anything specific, I can’t know.”

You laughed. “I haven’t lived much of it, honestly. I’ve only been gone a few weeks.”

“That’s true. There’s just been so much that’s happened, it feels like a lifetime.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“But has it been good at least? Overall, you think?”

“Yeah, it’s good, Jeno. He’s good.”

“Of course he is. The computer never makes mistakes.” And with that, the two of you stopped in front of a conference room on the second floor. He nodded politely to you. “This is where I leave you. If I don’t see you again, I wish you the best, Y/N. With everything.”

“Thank you. Bye, Jeno.” You smiled at him, knocking on the door as he pivoted on his heel and walked down the hall.

“Come in.” Came a familiar voice from within. Opening the door, you saw two figures stand up from the small conference table. Ms. Kwon, and a man who wasn’t familiar to you at all.

“Y/N, hello,” Ms. Kwon nodded to you. She didn’t even let you open your mouth to greet her back, gesturing to the man with her. “I’m not sure if you ever had the pleasure to meet AD Yang of Risk Management while you were here.”

And in one curt sentence, she had told you everything you needed to know about the situation: This was the assistant director of the risk management department at the Bureau, aka the legal department, which meant that this was serious serious, this would not be some quick interview to check off boxes, and she had only been let in because of her job title and as a professional courtesy to her, she wouldn’t be in control of the processions. But most importantly—she was on your side, for whatever that was worth. And honestly, it was worth a lot to keeping your composure as you turned to face the man.

AD Yang was deceptively young, you wouldn’t have pinned him as being as high up in the Bureau as he was just by looking at him. He only looked to be maybe ten years older than you, not a touch of grey in his pristine black hair, and only a hint of the beginning of worry lines on his forehead. He wore a suit, as all Bureau Executives did—it was only the lower level workers like you who wore the red jumpsuits—though his looked just a little too big on him, and his red tie was a little loose and slightly crooked, as if he still hadn’t mastered tying it yet. Both these things only aided in making him look younger and inexperienced. But the air of caution Ms. Kwon had about the whole situation immediately let you know not to underestimate him. You were thinking maybe his dress choices were intentional, so people would do exactly that, let their guards down around him.

AD Yang offered you a practically boyish smile as he held out his hand across the table, which your former supervisor hadn’t even done. You gingerly shook it as he introduced himself. “Please, just Mr. Yang is fine. Ms. Kwon is always so formal, you know. And I’ll call you Ms. Y/L/N, so we’re all on the same level here.”

You nodded.

“I don’t think we ever did have the pleasure to meet, Ms. Y/L/N,” Mr. Yang kept talking, his tone conversational. He then said as if it were a joke, “People usually only see me when they’re in serious trouble, you know?” He laughed, the only one to, then reassured you, “That isn’t what’s happening here, don’t worry. We’re just going to ask you a few questions, then you and Mr. Jung can head on out and off to your new life together, okay?”

You nodded.

“So, why don’t we sit, hm?”

The three of you took your seats, the two of them on one side of the conference table, you on the other. Mr. Yang took a moment to shuffle his papers, then smacked his hand to his forehead as if he’d suddenly remembered something. “I’m sorry, would you like some water, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright, let’s get started then.” He reached for a small device in the middle of the table. “I’ll be needing to record this conversation. Is that alright, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Sure, yeah.” Not like you could really say no.

“Great.” His boyish smile disappeared as soon as the recorder clicked on. He started by listing off the date and time, then addressed you. “This is AD Robert Yang, interviewing Ms. Y/L/N Y/N. Also present is Ms. Kwon Siyeon, Supervisor of Systems Analysis and Reporting. Ms. Y/L/N, you are aware that I’m recording this conversation, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“A few formalities before we begin: Since I have the recording going, I ask that you let me finish my question before you answer, even if you think you know what I’m going to ask. Cross-chatter is a bit difficult to parse out when you have to listen back to it.”

“Okay.”

“I also want you to answer everything aloud. No nodding or shaking your head, or ‘uh-huh’ or ‘nuh-unh.’” He showed the motions as he did them, and you could tell he had done this spiel many times before. “The non-verbal cues don’t translate great in an audio format.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, clicked his pen a couple of times, then looked up at you to begin with his first question. “Now, can you tell me how long you worked at The Bureau of Interpersonal Affairs prior to your resignation?”

“About five years.”

“Do you remember when your first day was?”

“Of training or on my own?”

“Training. After being hired.”

“Probably… spring five years ago. May, after I graduated.”

“Okay, good, good. And so you were hired, did your six months of standard training, right?”

“Right.”

“Then what happened?”

“I did more training to be a Systems Analytics Specialist.”

“How much?”

“Two and a half years.”

“So three years of training total, then you got to start on your own as a… Systems Analytics Specialist.”

“Yes.”

“I believe the other name for that position is matchmaker, correct?”

You bit down on your tongue to keep back an eyeroll. All of you in this room had to be aware that he was feigning ignorance right now. He might as well have asked if the Bureau was also sometimes called The Soulmate Factory. “Yes, we’re often called that as well.”

“More than Systems Analytics Specialist?”

“Yes.”

He jumped topics. “So why did you start working at the Bureau?”

“It sounded like a good place to work.”

“How so?”

“It seemed like the Bureau did good work. Helping people find their soulmates.”

“And you didn’t want to find yours?”

“I was willing to give that up for something bigger than me.”

“Did you join the Bureau with the intent of manipulating your soulmate match?”

“No.”

“Did you sign up to be a matchmaker with the intent of manipulating your soulmate match?”

“No. I didn’t sign up to be a matchmaker in the first place.”

“You didn’t?” He arched an eyebrow curiously.

“No.”

“How did you become a matchmaker?”

You glanced over at your former boss. “Ms. Kwon chose me at the end of my six months of basic training.”

“Why you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“You agreed to two and a half more years of training for a specialized position that doesn’t even recruit one new person a year without being told why you were suited for that position?”

“Yes. I was young and it paid better. I didn’t need to know.”

“When you were working as a matchmaker, were you ever asked by friends or family to manipulate their matches in any way, shape, or form?” He switched topics again. You weren’t sure if he was trying to disorient you, or if he simply decided that he was done with that line of questioning and wanted to move on with the next one.

You opened your mouth to say ‘no,’ then suddenly thought of the sisters on your bus in the mornings, recalling a day when the younger one had been crying as you got on, and her sister stopped you specifically. Tilting your head, you replied, “I once pinky promised a little girl that I wouldn’t match her with this smelly boy in her class. Does that count?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He made a show of scribbling something down on his notes, of which he had already filled up the first page of a large legal pad. AD Yang flipped to the next page as he announced, “I’m going to skip forward a little in time. When you found out you had the string, what did you do first?”

“Went home.”

“Went home?” He repeated.

“It showed up after work. So I went home.”

“Where were you?”

“The bus stop outside of the Bureau.”

“Around what time of day was this?”

“Between five and five-twenty.”

“That’s a pretty specific time frame. How do you know that?”

“It was after work ended but before my bus showed up.”

“So the Bureau was still open, then. There were still people inside that you could have reported this to, such as Ms. Kwon here?”

“I don’t know if there were people in the building, and certainly not if Ms. Kwon specifically was still in the building, since I was outside and could not see inside of the building,” you answered frankly.

“Right, of course.” He gave you a close-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Do people usually stay after five here, at the Bureau? To your knowledge?”

“Some people, sure, on some days.”

“So, it would have been a good guess, that there would’ve been somebody inside, when you realized that you had a string?”

“Possibly.”

“Then why didn’t you go back inside?”

“Honestly, I panicked,” you admitted, closing your eyes for a moment as you thought back to that night again. “I thought it was impossible for me to get one. I thought I might’ve been able to figure something out on my own.”

“Figure something out? Like what?”

You opened your eyes and gave a half-hearted ‘I-don’t-know’ gesture with your hands that had been resting on the tabletop, despite his prior instructions to keep non-verbal cues to a minimum. “Like what happened, what went wrong.”

“And did you?” He prompted.

“No. I didn’t.” Not even a little bit.

“And is that when you told Ms. Kwon? When you gave up?”

“No.” You told her when you decided you wanted to keep the string. Not because the dead-ends had frustrated you.

“Why did you tell her? Why not continue your renegade investigation?”

“You’re asking me why I followed proper protocol?”

“I’m trying to piece together what happened. All the events that happened, and exactly in what order. What happened that caused you to tell Ms. Kwon at the time that you did? Did you even tell her? Or was it found out? I’ve been assuming, I’m sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, but consciously relaxed your face back into a pleasantly neutral expression. Ms. Kwon would have obviously had to do her own report including all of the details of your conversation with her. He should know all of those particulars. Was he trying to catch Ms. Kwon in a lie?

“Yes, I chose to report it. Because I had done some self-reflection. And I don’t think there’s anything further to be said that is of import for the Bureau to know.”

There was a moment of still air as he held eye contact with you. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw Ms. Kwon’s lips part, as if she were about to say something, then she closed her mouth again, waiting. Mr. Yang cleared his throat.

“Sorry to jump around like this, I’m sure it must be disorienting, but I’m going to go back in time now.” He was very clearly not sorry at all. “Did you know Jung Sungchan before this incident?”

“No.”

“Had you ever met, seen, or heard of him in passing?”

“Not to my recollection, no.” Sure, you could have walked by him on the street before, but you had no way to know that.

“It’s my understanding that he’s an artist, you may have seen some of his work? Heard of him that way?”

“No.”

“So there was no reason that you would have wanted to manipulate your match with him?”

“No.”

“How soon after getting your string did you meet Mr. Jung?”

Now you felt like he was messing with you. “You have that data.”

“I’m asking you.”

“The string appeared on Monday evening, we met that Saturday morning.”

“So, less than a week?”

“Yes.”

“Quick.”

“I suppose,” you replied noncommittally.

AD Yang hummed a single note in the back of his throat as he looked over one of his papers, then his sharp eyes were back on you. “How many times did you meet before reporting your string to Ms. Kwon?”

You had to take a moment to think before answering. “Four, including the first meeting.”

“I’d like to return to your job, for a moment. Now, I have Ms. Kwon here with me not only because she was your boss, but because I obviously have no clue what goes on in that room when you guys work with the computer. Really, from what I’ve heard, it’s some incredible stuff. So she’s kind of here to help me out in case I go way off the mark with what I’m asking you with some of this.” He let out an imitation of a nervous laugh, grabbing a piece of paper from his stack. He pushed it over to you, asking, “Now, can you take a look at this for me?”

It was a nearly blank piece of copy paper, except for one long string of characters printed across it.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

“What do you see here, Ms. Y/L/N?” Mr. Yang questioned.

You looked up from the paper, having to consciously choose not to slip back into reading it and instead focus on the conversation at hand. “It’s raw match data from the computer. This is one match.”

“Does it look familiar to you at all?”

“I mean, it looks like every other match I’ve ever read.”

“So you don’t remember reading this specific match at all?”

“No, I don’t remember reading this specific match.” You didn’t even need to look at it again. Of course you didn’t remember it, they were all just a bunch of stuff that you read practically in a trance, there was no way you’d be able to remember any of them.

He grabbed another paper from his folder to show to you, a clipping from a spreadsheet of some kind, several columns showing a date, time, and eight-digit code that was unfamiliar to you, except for the letters appended to the end of it—your initials.

“According to our audit logs, this match was read at, and the match report submitted from, your station in the matchmaking room.”

“Okay.”

“Is it safe to assume, therefore, that you submitted the match report?”

“Was it during business hours?”

“Yes.”

“Was I swiped in?”

“Yes.”

“Did Ms. Kwon see me at my station during that time?”

“Ms. Kwon?” Mr. Yang prompted her without breaking eye contact with you.

“I do not have specific recollection of this day, so I cannot say in the affirmative or the negative,” she spoke for the first time since you had entered, and you had to suppress your smile at her response.

The man lifted his arms up and then down in a sort of ‘oh well’ motion. “We don’t know.”

“The electronic data does make it seem likely that I read this match and submitted this match report,” you finally said.

“This is your match with Mr. Jung.”

You tried not to show your utter shock on your face—you knew he wanted to get some kind of reaction from you—but you couldn’t help the sudden jolt forward in your seat as you went to pull the piece of paper closer to you again, your eyes drinking in the characters once more.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

There was still no way for you to distinguish specifics, but just knowing that somewhere in this seemingly meaningless string of nonsense was you and Sungchan, you kept rereading it, desperately wishing for it to feel special now.

“And how do you read the matches? Walk me through the process.” AD Yang’s voice brought your focus back to the present.

You exchanged a knowing look with Ms. Kwon. “I really can’t…”

“Trade secrets?” He said humorously. “It’s alright, I work at the Bureau.”

“No, I mean, it’s impossible to describe. I can’t tell you what I’m reading or how I know. I just do.”

“Then how do you know it’s right?”

“Because it is.”

Ms. Kwon stepped in then, “Mr. Yang, I’m advising you that you are getting close to questioning the computer and the program itself, not Ms. Y/L/N.”

He held his hands up in a sort of surrender. “Well that is certainly what we are not here to do, hm? Let me just take a look at my notes, and make sure I’ve covered everything. Should only be a few more minutes of your time, Ms. Y/L/N.”

AD Yang kept you in there until you started watching the sun begin its journey downwards in the sky. At some point, you started going in circles, and you knew he was just trying to catch you in lies, or confuse you, or get you to admit more than you had before out of exhaustion, or in hopes that he’d let you out. But you gave no different answers, no contradictory or new information, and you knew he’d eventually let you out. After all, there was no proof anywhere that you had done anything wrong, because you hadn’t. The most they could really get on was not telling someone at the Bureau sooner when you’d gotten your string but what could they actually do? Fire you?

When Mr. Yang finally declared the interview over, and turned the recorder off, you had to keep in your groan of relief. Instead, you maintained your composure, standing up when they did in order to shake their hands.

“Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Y/L/N. I do apologize for taking so much of your day, that had not been my intention,” Mr. Yang once again laughed as he shook your hand. “But this was very helpful, and I promise, yours and Mr. Jung’s answers are going to help us here at Bureau improve the way we do things in the future.”

“Right. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Yang.” You nodded politely to him, then turned to your old boss, a genuine smile coming to your face. “It was good seeing you again, Ms. Kwon.”

“Jeno had something to do, so I’ll show you out, Y/N.” She informed you, gesturing to the door.

The two of you were quiet as you walked through the halls of the second floor, until you finally reached a small waiting area on the other end of the building, made up of only a few uncomfortable-looking armchairs. Sungchan was the only person there, slumped down in a chair and bouncing his leg as he cracked his knuckles. He looked up when he heard footsteps, jumping to his feet as soon as he saw you, and while you would’ve felt a little weird about running in an office, he clearly didn’t care, taking just a few long strides to reach you and wrap his arms around you.

“God, Y/N! There you are! What the hell? Why the fuck did they keep you so long? They wouldn’t tell me anything, just that you were still being interviewed and I could either leave or keep waiting. I wasn’t going to leave but—”

“I’m fine, Sungchan, I’m fine,” you reassured him, hugging him back despite the slight awkwardness you felt with Ms. Kwon still definitely being right there. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

He didn’t say anything else, just kept holding you as you turned around in his arms to address Ms. Kwon.

“Uhm, we’re good to leave, right? Do you need anything else from us?”

She was clearly fighting back a smile as she replied, “I ask that you wait just a little bit longer, okay?”

“Okay, sure,” you nodded. “What is it? Something for me to sign? An NDA or something?”

“Just a moment, okay?” And with that, she left.

“God, I fucking hate it here,” Sungchan grumbled into your shoulder. “Let’s just go, whatever NDA or whatever the hell they want you to sign is going to suck and be coercive as shit and not worth it. It probably won’t even be enforceable or whatever.”

“I can’t even tell how much of that is even good or bad legal advice. I think all of it was probably bad?”

“It’s definitely going to be written by that fucking skeeze who interviewed you for like seven hours straight, which means it’s going to be bad.”

“What if it’s stuff for my severance pay and benefits? Ms. Kwon also said she’d write me a letter of rec if the investigation went well—”

“Y/N!” “Y/N!” You were cut off by two familiar voices calling your name from down the hall, and whipped your head around to look, your jaw dropping in disbelief. Jaemin and Renjun were rushing towards you, waving all four of their arms wildly, as if you could miss them. You squealed, darting over to them and throwing your arms around their necks.

“Oh my god!” You laughed as they hugged you tightly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you guys today!”

“We were specifically not told when you were coming,” Renjun admitted. “I even got blocked out of the Executive calendars for the month.”

“Ms. Kwon just came and got us,” Jaemin said. “Though, word had already spread.”

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?” You double-checked, looking around despite being in a rather empty corner of the building. “I don’t know what people have being saying, but based on the less-than-warm-welcome we got at reception, it doesn’t seem like it’s been good.”

“Do we want to be seen with our friend?” Renjun poked the right side of your head.

“Duh.” Jaemin poked the left side of your head.

“Yeah, I didn’t miss that.” You scowled at them.

“It’s so weird seeing you in normal clothes,” Jaemin commented, making you really look between their jumpsuits and your blouse and pants.

“It’s still a bit weird being in normal clothes,” you sighed.

“So… you going to introduce us?” Renjun nodded to where Sungchan was still standing awkwardly by himself in the waiting area.

“Yeah, come on!” You grabbed them by the arms to drag them over. Sungchan looked up from where he had been busying himself with a loose thread on his dress shirt, eyes landing expectantly on you. You let go of your friends to loop your arm with his. “Sungchan, this is Jaemin and Renjun, we used to work together. Jaemin’s desk was next to mine out in the bullpen, and Renjun was a few desks down from us. Guys, this is Jung Sungchan, my soulmate.”

You could hear your voice pitch up with giddiness as you introduced Sungchan in that way, and watched as his face relaxed into a smile as soon as you had called him your soulmate. He offered his free hand out to the other two.

“Nice to meet you guys,” he said sincerely. “I’ve heard good things from Y/N.”

“Then she must’ve been talking about a different Jaemin,” Renjun snorted.

“And a different Renjun,” Jaemin agreed.

“So, what are the wild theories about how I did it?” You asked. “Not the official one, I know you two don’t know that. But the breakroom gossip, the water cooler chat, the cereal death match chatter.”

“Rumor has it…” Jaemin lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “You were desperate to reunite with a long-lost childhood love and that’s why you applied to be a matchmaker.”

You snorted. “Cheesy.”

“I heard one about Ms. Kwon being in on it because you’re her secret daughter,” Renjun grinned.

“Ooh, that one’s good.”

“With someone with a string.”

You mock gasped. “Scandalous.”

Jaemin added, “I heard a version sort of like that, but you were Ms. Kwon and the Director’s secret daughter, which is obviously how you had enough pull to get it to happen.”

“Then how did I end up with my parents? Did they pay them off to adopt me?” You frowned, trying to figure out this bonkers drama plot of your fake life.

“Get this…” Jaemin paused for dramatic effect. “Your dad is the Director’s secret brother. So your parents are actually your aunt and your uncle.”

“I should’ve thought of that!” You shook your head, laughing.

“A lot of people don’t think you did anything, though,” Renjun assured you. “Seriously, most of the stuff I’m hearing is people being surprised that it hasn’t happened before.”

“That’s good to know.”

“PR is going to have a hell of a time,” Jaemin chuckled.

“Sucks to be Mark Lee right now, huh?” You grinned.

“Oh, I know that man has been sleeping under his desk for the past two weeks.”

You wrinkled your nose. “God, the seventh floor has got to be fucking rank by now. Please tell me Jeno and Donghyuck have at least been making him go home to shower.”

“Chenle did.” Your friends said in unison, making you burst into laughter at the mental image.

“God, I would’ve paid money to see that.” You chuckled. As much as you loved seeing your friends again, this wasn’t where you belonged anymore, and you had skipped lunch in that unnecessarily long interview. So with a sigh, you announced, “Anyway, it was so good to see you guys again, but we need to get going, and I’m sure you have work to finish up.”

“Unfortunately,” Renjun sighed.

“We’ll get drinks—dinner and drinks, the usual place—all four of us,” Jaemin declared as he went in to hug you goodbye. “Okay?”

“For sure,” you agreed with a grin. “You still need to give me my fucking book back, Na Jaemin.”

“He’s just a fucking thief!” Renjun complained as he went to hug you as well. “Bye, Y/N. See you again soon.”

The guys all exchanged a final wave and ‘nice to meet you,’ before your former coworkers headed back. You looked up at Sungchan, about to ask if he was ready to go, and saw him already gazing down at you thoughtfully.

“What?” You asked instead, furrowing your brow.

“Now I get how you could stand working here for five years.” He rubbed your back. “It wasn’t the Factory itself; it was the people you found here.”

“W-Well yeah. I liked my coworkers. But I also liked my job.”

“Yeah, but I like my job too, and I work alone at my studio. I like that. I prefer that. If I had to make small talk with a bunch of different people all day on top of doing my job, I think I’d start biting people,” he explained. “You didn’t just make small talk, you made friends.”

“I guess I’m a people person,” you shrugged, never really thinking about something that was so normal to you. “Is that weird?”

“No, it’s good. Just want to make sure you have people around that you like at your new job too.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “Now come on, if your lunch in there was anything like mine out here, then it was approximately four saltine crackers and some water.”

“Where are we going to eat?” You asked as the two of you headed towards the stairs.

“I live nearby. I want to talk about whatever the fuck that skeeze did in there for seven hours.” His voice was tense again at the mention of the interview. After a beat, he tacked on almost nervously, “If that’s okay. We can go somewhere else if you want.”

You encircled an arm around his waist as the two of emerged into the empty courtyard. “Your place works for me. I agree, we shouldn’t talk about that out in the open.”

Despite Sungchan both picking you up and walking you home from seeing each other many times over the past couple weeks, you had yet to actually be in each other’s homes before. You hadn’t even seen the outside of his place. You knew the general area of where he lived, as he had mentioned it while giving context for some stories he’d told you. The two of you also hadn’t been this… touchy before. Whenever you saw him, it always felt sort of like you were hanging out with a friend, if you ignored the string. You didn’t hug hello or goodbye, didn’t hold hands, nothing other than the little teasing elbow digs. It never occurred to you to really bring it up to him before, that technically, according to Bureau statistics, you two were taking it slow, because that would be a fucking weird thing to say—and also, you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind doing this at whatever pace it happened at.

But now, all of this all at once, it was making you a bit dizzy. In a good way, if that was possible, but still off-kilter.

Sungchan stopped in front of the door to a townhouse in a long row of townhouses, each one with a different, colorfully painted door. His was pistachio green. When he finally opened it up and pulled you in by the hand, you immediately started looking around with eager eyes. He said he hated people looking at his art and making assumptions about him, but he said nothing about his home.

“Kitchen, living room, and laundry room are on the first floor, bedroom and bathroom are on the second,” he told you over his shoulder, taking you through a narrow entryway before emerging into the connected living room and kitchen area. You already knew his studio was at a different location from his home due to the sheer scale of the pieces he made.

His walls were all filled with art, but you immediately figured it wasn’t his. They were drawings, paintings, doodles on napkins, anything and everything. It looked like dozens, maybe even hundreds of different artists in all sorts of styles. Some professional, but most clearly not.

“Everyone who comes to my place has to pay,” he explained. “They owe me a piece of art.” Walking over to the very first wall that your eyes would see upon entering, he pointed to a piece of copy paper with random crayon scribbles on it that was displayed dead in the center. He grinned. “Not even babies are exempt. My nephew.”

“What happens when you fill up your walls?” You asked curiously, following him into the kitchen, which had even more art.

“Guess I’ll have to find a bigger place with bigger walls.” He seemed to be searching for a specific piece, then pointed to a small napkin drawing of seven cartoon heads grinning. “Sohee. Guy said he couldn’t draw then busted that out after some soju. With a pen! I know you haven’t met the other guys, but it looks just like us. Guess which one’s me.”

You hummed thoughtfully, then pointed to a face in the top left.

“Yep!” He beamed proudly, as if it had been his own drawing. He started naming all the other guys in the drawing. “Shotaro, Wonbin, Sohee, Seunghan, Anton, and Eunseok.” Then, he drew your attention to what looked like an invoice for air conditioning repair services, with a pencil sketch of an older woman in the corner of it. “A/C repair guy. Just pulled that out of nowhere. It’s his wife, they met when he went up to her in public saying she was so beautiful he had to draw her. That was before they had their strings. He said he just knew, would’ve known without the string anyway. His art didn’t take off, hence why he was my A/C repair guy.”

“So is it a piece of art every time a person comes over, or just one piece of art, and that’s the toll paid forever?”

“One piece of art per person, debt is cleared forever,” he clarified, opening his fridge to root around in it. “I’ve had some artist friends defer their pieces for future visits because they wanted to make a proper, good piece. You know, put real time into it.”

“It’s good, Sungchan,” you grinned, still looking around at more of the art on the walls. “I love it all.”

“I know, now I don’t have to worry about my furniture matching my décor.”

“Yeah, but it’s also…” You breathed in happily as you tried to figure out how to say it. “You called me a people person earlier. You are too, just in a different way.”

He looked around doubtfully. “You think so? I literally said I would bite people if I had to talk to them. I don’t know if my people skills are really up to par for being labelled a people person.”

“Your entire house is wallpapered in art from just ordinary people that you’ve met. Your friends and family, an A/C repair guy. Call me crazy, but I think you like people.”

“Huh. Never thought of it like that.” He grabbed a few more things from the fridge, then the pantry. “Anton just calls it a weird powerplay, and one time Eunseok said he thought I like ‘asserting my dominance.’”

You laughed, “Maybe you’ve just got weird friends if they think you asking them to make you art is you trying to dominate them.”

“Not going to argue with you there.”

“Can I defer my art to another visit?” You requested. “I mean… I’ll probably be over more than once, right?”

He smiled softly. “Probably. And sure, you can defer. But you’re not getting out of it just because you’re my soulmate. If anything, I think that means you definitely owe me something I can point to when people come over and say, ‘my soulmate made that one.’”

After getting a quick and simple lunch together, you and Sungchan took it to his living room to eat, as he didn’t have a dining table. You sat with your back against the arm of the couch, facing Sungchan as your legs were criss-crossed under you.

You started, “So, what did AD Yang—” “Who?”

“The guy who interviewed us? The man with Ms. Kwon?”

“Oh, the skeeze.”

“Yeah. So what did Mr. Yang—” “Who?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting to keep the amused smile off your lips. “So what did the skeeze ask you? I want to know that first, before we talk about mine. Because like, when I think about the amount of time it took Jeno to walk you up there, introductions, goodbyes, then for Jeno to take you to the waiting room, then come get me… I mean, that whole time was like fifteen minutes. So you probably only talked to them for a few minutes, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was just a bunch of stuff they probably already knew.” He shrugged. “When did I realize I had the string? When did you and I meet? Did I know that you worked at the Factory when we met? When did I learn that you worked at the Factory? Did I know you before the string? Did I know anybody else at the Factory who could have manipulated the match for me? Then… that was it.”

“Makes sense. You didn’t have any ties to the Factory other than me.”

“So what the fuck happened in there that the skeeze thought he needed to take seven fucking hours?”

“I don’t think it would have taken that long, except…” You scratched your head awkwardly. “I’m the one who read our match and submitted the match report.”

Sungchan’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? But how did you not— Don’t you look that stuff up?”

“Reading the matches, and looking up the profiles, it’s all anonymous. It’s not like I saw it and my brain read it as ‘Jung Sungchan and Y/L/N Y/N.’ It was just… sort of like, the impression of profile numbers, I guess? It was like any other match to me, there was nothing special about it to me.” You screwed your face up as you desperately tried to both explain the matchmaking process to someone who had never been near the process at all, and as you tried to recall anything about that specific match at all, which you of course couldn’t. “And the profile numbers when I looked them up, it didn’t show me names or pictures, or any sort of identifying data when I would do that. It’s all completely anonymous, for good reason.” When you opened your eyes again, Sungchan was still staring at you, and your stomach dropped as you realized what you had just said. “Sungchan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that you’re not special, of course you are, but when I would be matching, you’re sort of not yourself and—”

“Woah, woah, sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out and make you worry like that,” he apologized, setting his bowl aside and turning to fully face you. “I was just thinking… How many people get to say that their soulmate was the one who gave them their own red string? Like, that’s so cool.”

“Uh… nobody? We’re probably the only ones.”

“Exactly. It doesn’t matter if it felt special to you in that moment or not. Because it still was. I mean, did it feel special when you decided to stop and look at that book at the bookstore? In the split-second that you made the decision?”

You shook your head. “No, I just, wanted to look at the book.”

“And me running after the Frisbee when Anton missed for like the sixth time that morning didn’t feel special in that second. But both of those things were, because it took both of them happening at the same time for us to meet.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your food, then up at Sungchan. Setting your bowl aside as well, you then asked, “Is that what a soulmate is, then?”

“What? A Frisbee nearly hitting you in the face?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I mean—Jaemin, Renjun, and I were talking one night, and we were debating about what a soulmate really was. I was in an existential spiral over our red string, they were having a fun little philosophical discussion. They didn’t know about the string yet. We couldn’t decide if a soulmate was just the best that you do, or somebody who would make you better, or infinite second chances.”

“So what do you think a soulmate is now?”

“Someone that makes all the nooks and crannies in your life special, even if they wouldn’t usually be. Just by being there.”

Sungchan absolutely beamed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah. I… like that.”

“What do you think a soulmate is?”

“I’ve always figured every pair of soulmates needs something different from each other,” he replied. “And I think you figured out what we need from each other. To make all the nooks and crannies of our lives special just by being there.”

“Okay…” You agreed softly, a fond smile coming to your lips as he offered his hand out, palm out. You set your hand atop his, your chest squeezing your heart at the same time Sungchan squeezed your hand.

“Now… tell me everything that fucking skeeze said. Everything you can remember.”

“Oh my god, Sungchan.”

“You were in there for seven hours, Y/N!”

“He asked me the same one and a half hours of questions like five times. I was going to start biting people by hour three.”

[sungchan: omw :) ]

[you: okey!]

[sungchan: :( ]

[you: okey! :) ]

[sungchan: :) ]

Laughing to yourself at Sungchan’s attachment to emoticons in texts, you grabbed the last few things that you’d need for your date today. It was the last week that his exhibit was available at the museum, and between your hectic schedule of interviews, and phone interviews, and callback interviews for jobs, in addition to his own schedule, this was finally the day that you two had been able to arrange to go together. A few minutes later, your phone lit up again.

[sungchan: outside :) ]

[you: omw down <3 ]

You saw him start typing, but then he stopped, presumably figuring that he’d be able to tell you whatever it was to your face in thirty seconds. Rushing down, you threw open the front door already with a smile that only grew tenfold as you looked up at Sungchan.

“Hi!” You greeted him, locking up behind you before giving him a hug.

“Good morning.” He readjusted your jacket, pulling it more snugly around your collar for you. “You going to be warm enough in that?”

A cold snap had come through last night, dropping the temperature and forcing you to get your fall wardrobe out early. You raised an eyebrow, looping your arm with his to pull him over to the bus stop to wait. “The museum is heated inside, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah…”

“Then I think my biggest problem would be having to carry a heavy jacket around the museum the whole time.”

When the bus arrived, you were just a bit disoriented by there being completely different passengers—after all, it was a different time of day than your previous daily commute, and you and Sungchan went to sit in a different row. You took the window seat, always loving to watch the passing scenery, and to give Sungchan the extra leg room of the aisle. As the bus took off, you squinted, unable to see much through the fogged-up glass. Sungchan reached a hand past you, and you watched with interest as he drew a heart in the condensation on the window. You giggled and took your own pointer finger to the empty space in the heart, carefully tracing out JSC, then your initials, then a plus in the middle, feeling very much like a preteen doodling on your math homework.

When you looked back at him, you saw that his ears were pink, and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or not, but he grabbed your right hand with his left, both of your index fingers still a bit chilly from drawing on the window. He rested your linked hands on your lap, and though you couldn’t quite see it from this angle, you knew that the string that connected your pinkies was complete. You leaned your head on his shoulder to look out the window, through the lines made with your little heart.

At the art museum, you excitedly stuck your visitor sticker to your shirt before pulling Sungchan in further by the hand. You looked up at the huge skylight in the main atrium, providing an abundance of natural light on a large abstract sculpture in a bold orange color. “It’s beautiful in here.”

“Have you ever been to this museum?” Sungchan asked curiously as you stopped to watch a cloud pass over the skylight.

“No, I haven’t,” you replied quietly, turning your gaze down to the sculpture in front of you. “I’ve lived here my whole life and it’s one of those places that I’ve always been meaning to go to but, I don’t know, I just haven’t yet.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some places like that,” he said in understanding. “Let’s make a list, both of us. And we’ll cross them off together.”

“Okay, yeah.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “Together.”

Sungchan’s exhibit was in the first gallery past the lobby atrium, and you two had gone at a pretty perfect time for it to be empty of everybody except the docents. You came to a stop as soon as you entered, unsure of where to put your eyes first. When you heard large-scale mixed media collages, you weren’t sure if you had really processed how large ‘large-scale’ was. The gallery was probably fifty meters across, the longest wall being taken up entirely by one single piece. There were only five pieces total in the gallery, one on each wall and one suspended in the middle of the room. You were sure that you could spend hours just looking at one of them.

You decided to start at the one closest to you, and work your way towards the back, where the entrance to the next gallery was. There was a plaque with information about the piece and the artist on it, which you entirely discarded. You commented on things you liked or found interesting as if you were just talking to yourself, not expecting Sungchan to respond at all. And truly, you were just talking to yourself, mostly gasping and muttering all of these things under your breath with delight—after all, you were in a museum, you had to use your inside voice. He’d sometimes chuckle or hum with interest, but that was the extent of him engaging with your commentary, just following you as you slowly trailed down the pieces, then sometimes jumped back to a place that you had already looked over as you made a connection, then went down again. Until you finally made it to the behemoth piece.

Despite being the largest, it had the most fine detail, the smallest individual parts making it up. And that almost felt intentional. Part of you wanted to ask Sungchan that, but you bit your tongue. Instead, you raked your eyes over every square centimeter, drinking in as much as you possibly could. The docent who was standing in the corner switched out while you were looking over that piece, and for a brief second, you wondered if any of the employees had recognized Sungchan. It had never occurred to you that random people on the street would, but in the art museum where he quite literally has an exhibit displaying his art, under his real name… If they did, nobody had made any indication as to such.

Then your attention was sucked back in by the collage in front of you. By the time you were finished, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, only that your feet hurt. You didn’t say anything to Sungchan, only gave his exhibit one more proud look before turning the corner into the next gallery. This one had a dark, heavy curtain dividing it from the rest of the museum, and you immediately knew why. There was a sign at the beginning, the letters lit up so you could read it: ‘The Beauty of Light’

The building’s main overhead lights were completely out, so that the only light provided was from a few along the floor so you could see your step, and the exhibit itself. There were mirrors, glass panes, and colorful lights set up all around the room, refracting all sorts of seemingly impossibly arrays of colors and designs along the surfaces.

“Woah…” You breathed out, reaching out to catch a rainbow on your palm, immediately laughing with wonder.

“It’s interactive,” Sungchan informed you, adjusting the equipment making the rainbow so that there was a whole starburst of rainbows all across you.

“Okay, that’s really fucking cool.” You could feel the huge grin on your face.

“I really didn’t want to see you reacting to my art, actually. I usually hate seeing people looking at my works.”

You looked up at him, confused. “Then why did you want to come with me?”

“I knew they had this exhibit here, and I knew I had to be there when you saw it.” He moved the glass just a bit more, and you weren’t sure where the rainbows had ended up now, but he seemed satisfied as a tender smile came to his lips. “Beautiful.”

“It’s incredible,” you gushed, looking around the room at more of the cool effects being done with lights, then back to Sungchan. You held your hand out towards him, and he walked out from behind the equipment, taking your hand again. Now that he was next to you, some of the rainbows were sticking to his skin and clothes, and you couldn’t help but smile as one caught on his nose.

“Thank you for bearing through the horror of seeing somebody see your art to experience this with me,” you half-teased, swinging your linked hands. Though your words were exaggerated, your sentiment was sincere.

“I said I usually hate seeing people look at my works, but I liked watching you in the exhibit. It didn’t feel like you were performing for me,” he said with a grin. “I could probably watch you watch paint dry.”

“You’re being hyperbolic,” you scoffed.

“I’ve got some paint at my place, want to find out?”

“As thrilling as that sounds, maybe later,” you snorted. “I’m not done with the beauty of light.”

“Hey, no complaints here.” Sungchan ran his thumb over your cheek, still looking down at you with an unbelievable tenderness in his gaze. “Hm…”

“What?” You whispered, your voices suddenly sounding too loud in the empty gallery. The docent had stepped out, and another hadn’t come back in. It was just you and Sungchan in this room.

“Tried to wipe the rainbow off your cheek…”

“Let me guess, didn’t work?”

“Well, it did, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Moved to your mouth.” He traced the bottom line of your bottom lip with the very tip of his thumb, and you felt like you weren’t breathing, waiting for him to do something, anything.

“Sounds like a problem.” You put your hand over his, pushing it to your face so he was cradling your cheek.

Sungchan was smiling as he kissed you, you could feel it in the sweet press of his lips to yours, the soft tilting of your chin up to meet his. You squeezed the hand down by your side even tighter. He broke the kiss as gently as he had started it, still smiling down at you. You suddenly shot up to your tiptoes and wrapped your hand around his neck to pull his head down so you could peck the bridge of his nose, giggling when you had released him and he stood back up with a confused but affectionate look on his face.

“And what was that for?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You had a rainbow on your nose.” You told him very seriously. “We’ve established that you have to kiss them off, obviously.”

“Well in that case—” He proceeded to kiss your forehead, cheek, hair, and mouth again in quick succession.

You were laughing, your entire body buzzing from head to toe as you leaned against him both in a bid just be closer, and also because you felt like your knees might just give out. When you heard footsteps enter the gallery again, you bit your lip to stop your giggles, and Sungchan left you with one more fleeting peck to your temple before standing up straight and bringing you over to the next area of the exhibit.

Groaning and sleepily rolling over onto your back, you were vaguely aware of the fact that you had rolled directly back into someone’s chest, and contentedly snuggled further into your position. An arm snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush to theirs, and you smiled to yourself as you started drifting back off to sleep.

“Y/N?” Came a low rumble of your name from behind you.

You were nearly asleep again, and decided to just pretend you didn’t hear him.

“Baby?” He whispered, a little louder.

“Shh, Sungie,” you hummed. “Still sleeping.”

“Y/N…”

“Sungchan, my love, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

Deciding your discussion was finished, you rolled onto your front again and pushed your face into your pillow. He just followed you to that side of the bed, and you felt the pillow dip as he rested his head on it as well. Sungchan ran a hand up and down your spine, the covers dropping lower with his movements.

Realizing that he wasn’t going to be letting you sleep in today, you lifted your face out of your pillow and propped yourself up on your elbows to glare at him. “What is so important that I can’t sleep in on a Saturday when I don’t have to open?”

“You said you wanted to go to that breakfast place, and it closes in an hour,” he informed you quietly, face reminding you very much of a guilty puppy in that moment.

You looked at the time on his bedside clock, and flopped back down with a groan. “Well it’s too fucking late now. Next week.”

“Sorry, baby.” He squeezed your shoulder. “I would’ve woken you up sooner, but usually you’re the one who wakes me up for this kind of stuff. I just woke up a couple minutes ago.”

“Mm, it’s okay, Sungie,” you sighed and turned onto your back, offering him a sleepy smile to let him know that you weren’t mad at him at all. Now in a particularly lovely and warm patch of sunlight, you couldn’t imagine even getting up to go to the bathroom, much less a restaurant. “I think my sleep schedule from working at the Factory is finally gone. My body isn’t used to getting up for a nine to five anymore.”

“Oh, hold on.” He reached for his phone off the nightstand, and you immediately knew what was coming based on his change in demeanor. With a half-resigned, half-endeared sigh, you threw an arm over your face to hide it as he stood up to start taking pictures of you. He called for you with a slight whine in his voice, “Baby…”

“I have bedhead and morning breath, Sungie.”

“You can’t tell if you have morning breath in a picture.”

“And the bedhead?”

“So? Prettiest bedhead I’ve ever seen.”

“Subject gets to decide if you see her bedhead.”

He was quiet, but his pout was deafening as he continued taking pictures of you laying in the morning sunlight.

“Actually…” There was a curl of a smile in his tone as he plopped back down on the mattress. “I like it. Reminds me of those Baroque statues of Greek goddesses.”

You dropped your arm from your face and shuffled closer to be able to peer at his screen. The similarity of the pose was uncanny, but it also reminded you of something else.

“Or Ophelia…” You snorted.

“She doesn’t have an arm over her face.”

“Yeah but like, the general vibe, you know?”

He laughed, sinking into the pillows to make a few minor edits to the color toning. You settled your head on his chest to mindlessly watch him work, knowing that at least one of these photos would be printed out and added to the wall.

When you had admitted to him one night that you felt a lot of pressure over what piece of art to make him to put on his walls as part of his house rule, he suggested that the two of you make one together. So far all of his guests’ art had been relegated to the first floor, so the walls of his bedroom were entirely blank. Starting in the middle of the largest wall, above the long side of his bed, you two had begun a collage. Adding pictures that you two took of each other, pictures other people took of you two, pictures you took of places that you went on dates together, and any miscellaneous thing from your time that had acquired fond memories and Sungchan could figure out a way to stick to the wall. It had slowly started growing, and sometimes you liked to just lay in bed and look at it. One time you’d asked Sungchan what he was going to do when he moved out of this place, and he’d said cut out that section of wall and take it with him. At the time, you had laughed, but now you weren’t so sure it was a joke. Honestly, they could just put more wall in, right?

“There,” Sungchan murmured with finality, and you heard his portable photo film printer start whirring to life from his desk in the corner.

“Put it up later,” you requested, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face in his neck. “Don’t want you get up…”

“Fine by me.” He hugged you to him tightly, readjusting you so you were practically on top of him. “Are you on the afternoon shift or the closing shift?”

“Ahrin had her sister’s wedding today, so I’m doing afternoon and closing.”

“God, nobody else could take her shift?”

“I needed the money,” you shrugged. “Severance pay is gone and amazingly, part-time bookstore clerk doesn’t pay as well as full-time matchmaker at the Factory did.”

You’d been having a difficult time finding a job since quitting the Factory. Despite companies and organizations seemingly tripping over themselves to want to interview you, it was crickets when it came time to actually follow through after that. Even with your immaculate letter of recommendation from Ms. Kwon. At most of the interviews, you got the distinct impression that they just wanted a chance to meet the Factory employee who “rigged it,” and not actually interview you. After all, who would want such a dishonest and untrustworthy employee at their company. The only place that had offered you a job was your favorite bookstore by the park, which you were more than grateful for.

“I told you, you can live here,” Sungchan reminded you gently.

“I already practically do,” you retorted. “But I still have a lease on my place, and have to pay whether I’m here seven days a week or not.”

“Then why don’t you cut your lease? Isn’t there an early leave payment or something? That has to be cheaper than continuing to pay for the next however many months when you don’t even live there.”

“I—” You swallowed thickly, your voice getting smaller. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I mean that.”

“Me actually moving in?”

“Yes, you actually moving in.”

“Okay.” You beamed into his shirt. “I’ll look into the early leave payment.”

“Send your lease to Jihun to look over,” he suggested, referencing his sister’s husband.

“He’s not a lawyer.”

“No, but he’s got a couple. And he’s good with contracts and haggling. Bet he can get that fee payment cut in half.” You lifted your head, about to argue with asking for favors like that, when Sungchan cupped your jaw and tilted your chin so you were looking right at him. His red string hung in the air just in the corner of your eye. He held your gaze steadily. “It’s what family does, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you murmured, nodding against his hand. “Yeah, family.”

He pulled you forward and up to crash your lips together, his fingers tangling in your hair, and your hands flew to his chest to keep yourself upright. You felt your love for him filling every nook and cranny of your body, and you knew it was something special, because it was yours.

➥ masterlist

[sag-dab-sar]

Clarification: Generative AI does not equal all AI

💭 "Artificial Intelligence"

AI is machine learning, deep learning, natural language processing, and more that I'm not smart enough to know. It can be extremely useful in many different fields and technologies. One of my information & emergency management courses described the usage of AI as being a "human centaur". Part human part machine; meaning AI can assist in all the things we already do and supplement our work by doing what we can't.

💭 Examples of AI Benefits

AI can help advance things in all sorts of fields, here are some examples:

Emergency Healthcare & Disaster Risk X

Disaster Response X

Crisis Resilience Management X

Medical Imaging Technology X

Commercial Flying X

Air Traffic Control X

Railroad Transportation X

Ship Transportation X

Geology X

Water Conservation X

Can AI technology be used maliciously? Yeh. Thats a matter of developing ethics and working to teach people how to see red flags just like people see red flags in already existing technology.

AI isn't evil. Its not the insane sentient shit that wants to kill us in movies. And it is not synonymous with generative AI.

💭 Generative AI

Generative AI does use these technologies, but it uses them unethically. Its scraps data from all art, all writing, all videos, all games, all audio anything it's developers give it access to WITHOUT PERMISSION, which is basically free reign over the internet. Sometimes with certain restrictions, often generative AI engineers—who CAN choose to exclude things—may exclude extremist sites or explicit materials usually using black lists.

AI can create images of real individuals without permission, including revenge porn. Create music using someones voice without their permission and then sell that music. It can spread disinformation faster than it can be fact checked, and create false evidence that our court systems are not ready to handle.

AI bros eat it up without question: "it makes art more accessible" , "it'll make entertainment production cheaper" , "its the future, evolve!!!"

💭 AI is not similar to human thinking

When faced with the argument "a human didn't make it" the come back is "AI learns based on already existing information, which is exactly what humans do when producing art! We ALSO learn from others and see thousands of other artworks"

Lets make something clear: generative AI isn't making anything original. It is true that human beings process all the information we come across. We observe that information, learn from it, process it then ADD our own understanding of the world, our unique lived experiences. Through that information collection, understanding, and our own personalities we then create new original things.

💭 Generative AI doesn't create things: it mimics things

Take an analogy:

Consider an infant unable to talk but old enough to engage with their caregivers, some point in between 6-8 months old.

Mom: a bird flaps its wings to fly!!! *makes a flapping motion with arm and hands*

Infant: *giggles and makes a flapping motion with arms and hands*

The infant does not understand what a bird is, what wings are, or the concept of flight. But she still fully mimicked the flapping of the hands and arms because her mother did it first to show her. She doesn't cognitively understand what on earth any of it means, but she was still able to do it.

In the same way, generative AI is the infant that copies what humans have done— mimicry. Without understanding anything about the works it has stolen.

Its not original, it doesn't have a world view, it doesn't understand emotions that go into the different work it is stealing, it's creations have no meaning, it doesn't have any motivation to create things it only does so because it was told to.

Why read a book someone isn't even bothered to write?

Related videos I find worth a watch

ChatGPT's Huge Problem by Kyle Hill (we don't understand how AI works)

Criticism of Shadiversity's "AI Love Letter" by DeviantRahll

AI Is Ruining the Internet by Drew Gooden

AI vs The Law by Legal Eagle (AI & US Copyright)

AI Voices by Tyler Chou (Short, flash warning)

Dead Internet Theory by Kyle Hill

-Dyslexia, not audio proof read-

[finelinevogue]

smile

summary - harry can’t go a show without calling you beforehand

warnings: fluff?! swearing, it’s based off that photo abov

word count: -1k

L.A. traffic had its reputation for being the worst traffic on the planet.

You’d drive 50 metres and it will have taken you 50 minutes. There was no traffic like it - other than maybe the M25 outside London.

Most people would avoid this traffic, trying to get to their destinations with as little car congestion as possible. However, Harry had other plans. Harry would happily sit for 50 minutes to travel 50 metres, because he happened to love car journeys.

They were his only trips alone. They were a few minutes, or a few hours, of solitary peace and he depended on them to keep him sane. The only other person he would be okay enough to share this time with was his fiancé; you.

Normally you’d be travelling sat next to him, his hand on your thigh whilst you both hum along to the shared playlist you’d both created. However, on this particular journey Harry found himself alone with you staring at him through the phone on Face Time.

You were away with work for a few days and out of town, meaning you couldn’t be there for some of Harry’s shows. However, that didn’t stop you both from talking to each other 24/7. Any spare moment you both had you’d be on FaceTime. If Harry went shopping he’d call you. If you went to the loo you’d call him. If you were reading in bed he’d want you to call so he could read with you.

FaceTime kept your relationship in the honeymoon phase - even 3 years after the honeymoon phase is supposedly over.

As Harry drove himself to the Forum he couldn’t help but be ecstatic when you answered first try on FaceTime.

“Heyyy, love.” He smiled at you, whilst stopping at a red light.

You were busy putting on your makeup for the day, so your phone was propped up on a vanity so Harry could see your head down to your waist. Your makeup was splayed out in front of you and you picked up some concealer to carry on with your routine.

“Hello, my favourite human.” You replied, cheerily grinning over your reply.

“Favourite human? Quite like the sound of that. Might even top fiancé.” Harry said, reaching to turn the radio off so he could only hear you. It would be rude of him to have anything drowning out the sound of your voice.

“Really?”

“Maybe not. Fiancé does just have a night ring to it, doesn’t it?” With one hand on the steering wheel, his other hand went to rub his fingers over the top of his lips where his moustache was growing in. As he did so, his engagement ring sat pretty and made you internally squeal at how you were the person attached to that ring.

“I think i’ll like husband better.” You answered honestly.

“It’s weird we’re both each others fiancés now, but when we get married you’ll be my wife and I’ll be your husband - like we’ll have different names for each other then.” Harry drove on green.

“You can still be my wife if you want. My little housewife.” You giggled at the thought.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me, in an apron, making dinner and doing the laundry.” He teased, unfortunately not catching your reaction since he was concentrating on the road.

“You do that already, H.” You laughed. “Are you off to the venue?”

“Hm? Uh, yeah, yeah.” Harry was momentarily distracted as he had to turn onto a busy junction. His UK driving was a lot easier than LA, because of how short and simple the roads were in London. New York driving wasn’t even worth thinking about.

“And how was therapy?” You moved on to fixing your eyebrows, being prepared to stop and listen carefully to Harry if needed be.

“Yeah, it was good. She helped me through some of that tour stuff I was worried about.”

“About being away from family for so long?” You double checked.

“Yeah, yeah. She was trying to explain that if I’m happy doing what i’m doing then that’s all my family should want for me. Just happiness.”

“She’s right H. Your mum will be perfectly fine, as long as she knows that you’re happy - and that you’ll call often.”

“I try.” He said honestly.

“I know you do. I mean, when you’re not calling me that is.” You laughed, trying to lighten the situation with a bit of silly humour.

Harry got stuck in another traffic jam, meaning he would be late for rehearsals but he didn’t care because it meant more time on the phone with you. His favourite moments were spent with you, so he’d take ever extra second he could just to make new and happy memories.

“Have you had breakfast already?” Harry asked, in awe of watching you put on your makeup.

Harry was lucky to find someone that cared more about other people and the world than colouring in their skin and buying fake boobs. So your makeup routine didn’t in fact take too long to run through.

“Not yet, no.”

“Well, please have something before you leave, alright?” Harry asked, always concerned for you and your health whenever he wasn’t around to take care of you. He liked being the one to make you breakfasts in the morning, so often when you were apart from each other he’d believe you weren’t eating anything as good as what he makes - which is true, but you do also eat still.

“Okay, yes. I promise.” You rolled your eyes at him but gave him a smile, knowing he only meant well. “Have you eaten?”

“I actually am on my way to have lunch with Jeff now. He wants to run through Grammy stuff.” Harry explained.

“How are you feeling about that? The Grammy noms, I mean. Tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, tomorrow, yeah. Um, I’m feeling alright y’know? Like, I thought I’d feel a lot more dependent on them, but I think after last year I’m still feeling that high. Any nom would be great, but if I don’t get any then I also know that it is a great album and there was only one person I wanted to impress with it anyways.”

“Oh yeah? Who?” You asked, knowing the reply already.

“You.”

You smiled and shook your head. He was too cheesy sometimes, but it was no lie, or secret, that Harry’s House had been solely made for you. It was a love letter from Harry to you and a declaration to the world that Harry Styles was the happiest he’s ever been.

[vinnyhongnsfwgurl]

1st Vinny Hong FanFic? I literally have no idea what this should be LOL

Hello all Windbreaker fans and Vinny Hong lovers. This is my first Vinny Hong x female reader fanfic. I hope you enjoy and comments/feedback is always welcome! Thanks :3

So, I didn't realize what kind of fanfic this would be after I finished writing it LMAO. Complete despair and heartbreak hahaha. I just chose to write and not think to hard. tbh I'm pretty happy with it. Let me know what you think :) .... also I did not proof read haha I am lazy.

I think I'll do a part 2 to this one!

"y/n? ...... y/n?"

"Y/N?!"

You're head snaps up to look at your mother sitting in the hospital bed next to you. She looked at you slightly worried.

She tilted her head as she asked "Are you okay? I called your name multiple times."

You sat up straighter in your chair and nodded. "Yes. Sorry. I, uh, just got lost in my thoughts for a moment." A lot had happened in the past couple of weeks. My mother got very sick and ended up in the hospital for a second time, nearly dying due to a brain aneurysm. It had put a lot of stress on every part of our lives, mostly financially. We weren't poor, but we certainly did not have the luxury to not work and stay in the hospital for extended periods.

I had thought about picking up extra hours at my part-time job, but I knew it wouldn't help much and I knew my studies would suffer. I was already struggling to keep my grades up. Besides my part-time job, I had to train for the upcoming final race of League of Streets. I was a part of Hummingbird and it was amazing but like my personal life, it was a mess. So much had happened with our team.

The most recent event was Vinny leaving our team deciding to ride with the Ghost crew. He started doing small races for money, which were broadcasted online. I had seen a few. Everyone was confused and upset including me. The whole reason we created Hummingbird was to compete in LOS and win the price money for Vinny's mother but I guess he had different plans in mind.

"It'll be okay honey" my mom said as she reached for my hand. I let let her hold my hand. It was warm and reassuring.

I smiled. "I know mom. I'm glad you're alright .... I was really scared actually." I could feel the pressure behind my eyes build up.

My mom started tearing up. "I know. I know y/n. but it's okay, I'm okay." She squeezed my hand.

I just nodded. "yeah."

After a few minutes and making sure my mother didn't need anything, I hugged her goodbye and started making my way out of the hospital. I took a seat on a bench that was stationed right next to the entrance of hospital. I had taken a bus here and planned on taking it to get back home. It only took me ten minutes to get to the bus stop, so I had a bit of time before I had to leave. I was really tired and too stressed. I found myself looking for more quiet moments out of my day.

I looked out toward the street across from the hospital. It was already dark out, but there was quite a bit of traffic. Honking interrupted the empty, docile night every now and than.

I heard footsteps come around the corner that ended abruptly once they caught up to the bench I was sitting at. As I turned my head to see what or who it was, I hear a familiar voice.

"What are you doing here?"

Vinny. It was all I thought as my eyes met his. His red eye seemed strikingly brighter than it usually was. Maybe it's just because I hadn't seen him in awhile.

"Oh. I was visiting my mom. She recently had surgery." I explained. ".... Are you hear to see your mom?" I asked.

He was quiet for a second before answering my question. "Yeah, she's staying here."

"MMm that's good. Glad to hear she is getting treatment" I said.

"What about your mom? Is she okay?"

"oh yeah! The surgery went well, so everything is good." I gave a sheepish thumbs up. I always became painfully aware of how awkward I felt when interacting with Vinny. I was a fairly shy person and it didn't help how handsome I thought he was. It took time in the beginning for us to get along and establish a relationship. It wasn't hard for me to figure out soon after that I was falling in love with him.

There was a lot I learned about him after Hummingbird was formed and the more I learned the more I desired to be near him. He was hot headed and pretty reserved, but it never really bothered me. I always went out of my way to greet him at practice and I chat with him when I could. I never cared if it was just small talk.

He just stared at me for a moment before saying "Good to hear that."

I knew what what was coming next, or what wasn't. This would be the end of our conversation. I didn't want it to be.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"I'm fine." He said plainly.

"And Jack?" following it up with a smile.

"He's fine too."

Man of few words I thought. I was used to it but I always wondered what actually behind those words: I'm fine.

"Are you really doing fine? I know I'm probably not the first person you think of when you want to talk to someone, but you're my friend. I'm here for you." I blurted out without much thinking.

When I had mentioned how confusing and upset I was when he left our crew, it was an understatement. I was sad and hurt. I also felt so helpless. He left us all behind and had no desire to return.

I looked down at the backpack I held in my arms. There was so much I wanted to say, but none of it seemed enough.

"I'm sorry for everything that's happened. I know you're having a hard time. I wish you hadn't had to leave the team."

"I don't know why you're apologizing, y/n. You don't need to." He replied.

Vinny walked up closer to me until he stood just a few inches from my feet. I looked up and he gaze had softened just a bit.

"You don't need to worry about me. Just focus on yourself. You have a lot going on."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence as Vinny and I held each other's gaze.

Then Vinny turned to leave. "I'll see you later y/n."

Before he took another step, I reached for his hand. It was a light grasp, just enough to stop him.

"Come back to Hummingbird ..... at least, at some point. We'll wait for you. It's nothing without you"

Vinny just stared at me before pulling his hand away from my mine.

"Y/n."

"It doesn't matter if it's not tomorrow, or the next day, or weeks from now! J-just come back. Please." I could feel a increase in my heart rate and the pressure behind my eyes building up again.

Vinny sighed and turned away from me.

"There's no reason for me to come back." He said sternly. "There's nothing you or the others can offer me." He continued has he started walking away.

Something warm slid down the right side of me cheek. I blinked and more came out. I was crying.

I just stood there as I continued to watch him walk away. My crying only worsened and I could feel a lump form in my throat.

I can't give up on you Vinny I thought as I recollected the memories of us together and how much our relationship progressed.

I just can't Vinny. I won't. I love you.

After he was well out of my sight, I finally left for the bus station. I cried the entire way.

For once, I wished it wasn't so quiet out.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #27] Keeping Quiet

warnings: angst, hayun, cu ajummas, astrology, drinking, enter stage left: park seojoon !!, danbi putting jaykay in his place!!, a shag :( but sad :( nothing quite like yearning for someone who is quite literally inside you!!, unprotected sex, 'byeol baby', 'koo' (waaaa), honestly just big pouty vibes all round!!

wc: 18k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Oh, it's hopeless ," Hayun pouts with a playful whine as she heads down the stairs of an inner-city apartment block. Files in hand detailing all the relevant listings within her budget, it's the third property she and Jeongguk have walked away from that morning. "Has the rental market here seriously gone downhill that badly?"

He nods, sucking a little air between his teeth. "You gotta widen your search. You're looking at, like, the most expensive types of apartment in the most expensive part of town."

'Expensive' has always been Hayun's taste. There's nothing wrong with wanting the finer things in life, especially not if you work hard for it, but she's only been able to pick up part-time work as a seamstress since she's been back. 

It's exactly the same sort of work she had been doing up in Seoul - but working in a tailors just off of Apgujeong-ro in Gangnam is a far cry from the little shop on the outskirts of her old city. It's not a bad location - is near the KTX station, so gets a lot of traffic from businessmen, but not enough to afford what she really wants.

She sighs, knowing he's right, as he holds the door open for her. Winter air blusters around her dark hair, worn loose, catching a little in her glossy lips. Hooking the hairs away with her ruby red nails, she seems disheartened.

"You and Jimin manage it," she says, as if the financials are comparable.

"Yeah, but I'd never be able to afford that place on my own - and even so, I can only manage it 'cause he was willing to go 60-40 with me until I finish school," he adds, taking the files from her so she can put her hands in her coat pockets. It's bloody freezing.

Humming a little, Hayun nudges into his arm. "Why don't we become roomies? 60-20-20. A great deal all round."

Jeongguk sort of hates the way it feels like a small flame is flickering in the pit of his stomach when she says that. It's mild. Subdued. Doesn't have any fuel behind it. Not like it once would have done.

Still, he smiles.

"We do have a really comfy sofa," he says, playful in the distance he's creating. Knows she was insinuating something else, and knows that his bedroom is not a Hayun-friendly area anymore. The birds he'd once made because of her origami butterflies have a new meaning now; they're important because of someone else. It's your dreams embedded in their wings, not his former mislaid hopes of something flourishing between him and her.

"Great," she replies. "You can sleep there, and I'll take your bed."

"Fuck that," he snorts. "I'm having my bed."

"Well then we'll share," she purrs.

It's a flirt that Jeongguk would have eaten up six months ago; one that makes him feel a little guilty, now.

"Nah," he says, then thinks of you. "I'm no good at sharing."

Just like that, you're in his head again and his is vision blurry from all the fucking glitter that clouds in them whenever it happens. He thinks of the way you'd agreed to sleep in his bed with him after the evening with the ties, and how he'd been hoping you would stay a few nights ago, too. He didn't sleep a wink that night. Didn't revise. Didn't do anything fuckin' useful. Just sat, and stewed, unable to pick himself up off the floor.

He knows he was unkind and that an apology needs to be made, but he's never been good at swallowing his pride. Your disdain for Hayun comes from your own personal experiences, and it was naive of him to assume it was all because of him. Stupidly, he'd thought that you were jealous; that your irritation came from some form of protective nature. The same sort of one he has over you.

Just because he's not good at sharing doesn't mean you suffer from the same affliction. Was foolish of him to think you did.

Mistakes made with Hayun in the past are not to be repeated with you. He knows this. Knows that he can't hold you close in a bid to keep you where he prefers you. You're just like the birds that watch over him at night. You need to be set free.

So that's what he's trying to do.

He doesn't want you to become another bad decision. Knows your friendship is worth more than that. Thinks that maybe a little space to breathe could be good; that perhaps lines need to be redrawn.

"You don't need to tell me that," Hayun laughs as little as they head towards the subway. "Possessive is basically your middle name."

He frowns.

"Protective," he corrects. "Possessive sounds... I don't know. I don't like it."

Looking over at him, Hayun marvels at how much he's grown in the time since she's been away. Immature when she was leaving, Jeongguk couldn't stand to watch her leave. Thought he was being deserted by the person he held closest. For months leading up to her move, she felt like she was constantly being dragged in two directions - between the man she loved, and the boy who loved her. As hard as it was for Jeongguk, it wasn't exactly easy for her either.

"Well, we're talking about your bed, Buddy. Your possession . I think possessive is perfectly apt - unless you're protective over it, too?" She teases. "Is it not empty these days?"

Of all the conversations Jeongguk wants to have with Hayun, this is not one of them.

"Let's not talk about my sex life," he laughs a little, not wanting to be awkward in how he brushes off the conversation. She doesn't get the message.

"Why not?" she flirts. "We used to talk about it all the time."

"Yeah, 'cause you used to be my sex life, Hayun," he laughs again but it feels so sickly sweet that he might be sick. "You know I've never been one to kiss and tell."

"Boring," she sighs, nudging into him slightly as they walk along.

"Well you tell me about yours then," he jokes back, knowing that sex isn't a topic for the pair of them to share anymore.

"Oh, I'm basically a born-again-virgin," she sighs. "The break up was a long time coming. As soon as I stopped being attracted to him, well, yanno. Stopped sleeping with him. Haven't been laid in months. Pretty sure I wouldn't even know how to have sex anymore."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Well," she considers. "We're both single for the first time in forever..."

"Don't."

"What? I'm just saying."

"Well, don't," he smiles, to mask the awkwardness of a feeling he doesn't understand. "It's dangerous. Us hooking was like... catastrophic."

"You ever think about it, still?"

"Hayun," he whines. "Please."

"I do."

"You shouldn't."

"I know you do, too."

He shakes his head.

"I remember your last drunk voice note, Gguk."

She says 'the last' because it used to be a common occurrence. Something to look forward to every month or so; admittance that Jeongguk still found the idea of sleeping with someone new impossible. Drunken mumbles of how he couldn't ever work out if girls were flirting with him or not, and how it didn't matter 'cause he was thinking about her anyways.

Hayun used to listen to them and feel a blush blossom all over her entire being. Used to see a notification from Jeongguk at arse-o'clock in the morning, and knew it would be confirmation that she was still adored - and doesn't everyone want to be felt about so fondly?

She'd never directly respond to the messages. Would just tell him to take some medicine for his hangover. Knew that acknowledging his tipsy tongue would likely cause issues. After all, she did still have a boyfriend who never knew of her past with Jeongguk.

Her boyfriend had thought Jeongguk was just a kid with a crush. Didn't realise how Hayun had taken his heart and crushed that instead.

"That was like, nine months ago," Jeongguk cringes. Only remembers the timing of it, 'cause it was Yoongi's birthday celebrations. Had watched on as Seoyeon adoringly made a speech about her other half, and had wished Hayun could have been there. Wondered if her eyes would have flicked to Jeongguk, just like he knows he would have glanced at hers.

The next time he got drunk, you were there to keep his brain busy.

And so he didn't call. Didn't text. Didn't do anything.

"So?" She laughs at his embarrassment. "You don't just wake up one day and stop feeling that way."

"Maybe I did," he says, knowing that he absolutely did not.

Though if he were to think about it properly, he'd realise that no, he didn't wake up one day feeling differently. Instead, slowly, gradually, day by day, his feelings have changed - but just like the seasons, he doesn't notice. Likely won't until another feeling is impossible to deny.

"And maybe you're a big fat liar."

"Well, did you ever think about me?" He asks a little flippantly, not expecting an answer. "When you were with your ex? Did you think about me?"

He anticipates a 'shut up' or a 'none of your business'; a coy smile that could mean nothing but everything all at once.

Hayun was previously a girl of subtleties, but she's been confronted with the idea that maybe Jeongguk prefers girls who are anything but - the Jiyeongs of the world. Bold. Confident. Or perhaps even worse: the attention-seeking glitter-coated girls. Never been her style - but she's never really been one to lose before. She isn't about to do it now.

"Sometimes," she smirks. Knows that such a response will probably drive Jeongguk insane.

It's not that she wants to cause him distress. Quite the opposite. She wants him to find comfort in her again. Wants what she let go of once before. Wants him to want her. Wants to belong somewhere; foolishly, she always thought she'd have a home in his heart.

And even though it's been derelict for nearly two years, it is still there. It sits abandoned, overgrown and the lock is rusted. The key doesn't work anymore. Maybe if she tries hard enough, though, she'll ease it open.

Her answer plays out in Jeongguk's head even after he changes the topic.

Sometimes.

Every now and again it comes to the forefront of his mind. How often?

She had a boyfriend. Was I better?

Moved cities for him. Was I hard to let go?

Why on earth would she still think about fucking Jeongguk? Am I the reason it ended?

The questions echoing in the space where sensible thoughts should be go unanswered.

He's walking Hayun to work. She's on the late shift. Wonders if he should offer to meet her after work.

For reasons he can't explain, he doesn't want to. It has nothing to do with the fact he's getting closer and closer to your neighbourhood. He absolutely isn't thinking about you, and worrying about seeing you, or the look on your face if you were to see him with Hayun.

Funny. He used to care about her seeing him with you. Worries about the opposite, now.

Even funnier?

How desperately you're trying to pretend like you're not jealous of Hayun's place in his heart, no matter how dilapidated the ruins of it may be.

"Oh, and another thing!" You enthuse, sitting once more outside CU, the gaggle of girlies - Minsu, Jinnae and Junghee - listening with great intent as you divulge more about the Hayun situation. "So then, she started saying how she wouldn't like another girl being so close with her boyfriend - but I set Jeongguk up with Jiyeong! I was hardly trying to break them up!"

"She's got a classic case of the green-eyed monster," Jinnae assures you, as she sips on a hot coffee from the convenience store. They're back to spy on Eunyeon's ex-husband's new squeeze, but are finding your unfathomably attractive bartender issues far more interesting.

"Mmm," Minsu agrees. "Show us what he looks like again?"

When you do, they all coo. "Oh, isn't he handsome?"

"I know he's pretty," you whine - it's like you're going round in circles. "But I'm still annoyed with him."

"He's a bit too much of a bad boy for me," Junghee sighs. She's not a tattoo lover, but has admitted that Jeongguk's got a 'lovely little face'. Of an older generation, it's no surprise that she isn't a fan of the body art, but you don't pay too much notice. Nodding across the street, she whispers. "Like him. Charming face but the tattoos all over his hand? A shame."

Looking over towards her gaze, you half think that maybe there'll be a new boy in the area to take your mind off Jeongguk.

"Isn't that..." Jinnae gasps.

Fuck.

"Yep," you wince, taking in the sight of Jeongguk strolling down the road with Hayun.

Unmistakable is Jeon Jeongguk, even without his signature smile. He's listening to whatever Hayun is saying - and does eventually crack a grin when she starts laughing, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Dressed down in baggy pants and an even baggier shirt, a thick puffer jacket hides the Jeongguk you know so well. You like it when he's cosy and comfortable, but it does sort of make you a little bit smug that he's not outwardly trying to make a big impression with his outfit choice.

But then again, this is Jeongguk you're talking about. He's still got that face. Still got that hair. Still got those hands peeking out from his sleeves, and still has those contemplative eyes that you've missed over the last few days. He leaves an impression even when he's trying to blend into the shadows.

The first night you met him is case and point; how even in the shrouded haze of a dark bar, he shone. He does it without even needing glitter.

"So that must be Hayun," Minsu assumes correctly. You nod.

She really is beautiful. They're attractive in different ways, Jeongguk is far more your type than she is, but it's not hard to see why someone like him would be interested in someone like her. Dark hair perfectly permed to wave around her features, she's put together well. Lips as red as her nails, you're beginning to learn that this is her trademark; her warning sign.

It also just elevates how different you are. A glitter girlie through and through, you never wear a red lips because you are aware that sometimes there is such thing as too much - and with the amount glitter you're always wearing, you don't wanna overkill it. Red lips had been reserved for Seokjin and Seokjin only - but you hadn't been wearing glitter with him, for the most part. Always knew how much he hated it.

She reminds you of a version of yourself that you don't like very much, and perhaps that's part of your issue. Maybe it is just projection.

But fuck, she was a dickhead. And she did hurt Jeongguk. And she has come back like she never left and she is taking her old place; the one that you had foolishly thought was yours. Sort of feels like you were just keeping her seat warm now.

"Dunno why on earth they're here," you hum. "Jeongguk lives in the middle of the city."

"Oh, he's got money," Junghee enthuses, but you just laugh.

"He doesn't live alone," you explain. "Splits the rent with a friend who does have money."

"Well, why don't you go for his friend instead?" Junghee asks. "If he's just as handsome and rich, what more could you want?"

A good shag.

"Jimin is great," you laugh. "But we're not compatible - and hey! That's not what this is about. Jeongguk and I aren't, like, romantic. We're just friends. I'm just upset because he's, like, replacing me."

Funny, how you and Hayun both have disdain for one another, when you both feel the exact same way.

You watch as they take a corner just a few roads before yours, and wonder where on earth they could be going. You'd message him and ask, if you weren't ignoring the memes he's sent you. He hasn't even sent them to your main chat feed, just forwarded them on instagram, where you've got him muted regardless.

Yes, you're being a little petty, but you're still pissed off.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jinnae sighs. "There's a reason they say boys and girls can never be just friends."

"That's not true," you pout. "We can be."

Giggling amongst themselves, they begin to relay stories of the boys they were friends with, and it's so nice seeing that the fundamentals of human relationships really haven't changed. Boys will always be stupid (and so handsome it's hard to think straight around them).

You're almost able to forget Jeongguk, and the fact he's in your area with Hayung, until fifteen minutes later, when your eyes notice a familiar figure waiting by the traffic lights across the road.

"Crap," you hiss, trying to soften your curse words around the older women you're with.

They all hum in confusion, Minsu being the only one to follow your gaze. "Oh! He's coming over."

"Shit," you curse now, unable to control it - which earns you a tap on your shoulder from Jinnae.

"Language young lady."

"I'm sorry! I just. Ahh! Can I borrow your hat?" you panic, not wanting him to clock you.

Dressed in sweats and a shirt that you know full well belongs to him, you're thankful you've gone for a plain black puffer coat. Far less obvious than one of your faux fur ones, but it also means you stick out like a sore thumb.

Ajummas will do as ajummas do - they're all in burgundy and blue; hues of maroon and splotches of neon scattered in patterns. Floral and a little bit garish, there's nothing subtle about any of their outfits.

You're casual, 'cause you're meeting Danbi for pole in half an hour. It's the first time since Sunday that you'll actually get to spend proper quality time with her and you're looking forward to it so much - your heart has been heavy. You'd only gone to CU for a snack, but the gaggle of gossipers had been there again, spying on Eunyeon's ex-husband again - and so naturally, you've been with them for an hour, now.

Jinnae practically throws her hat at you, and Minsu rummages in her bag for a fan. It's winter, and freezing out - you're only outside because of the industrial strength heaters that are practically boiling you alive outside the convenience store - but it will help block your face. You angle yourself away from the passageway up to the shop and stay silent as Jeongguk approaches. The ajummas also decide now is a great time to be silent, which only draws attention to the table.

You don't watch so have no idea if Jeongguk clocks you or not, but know that once you hear the bell of the door you're safe for a moment.

"Oh my god," you whisper.

"He's tall!" Jinnae says, surprised. "Far taller than I thought he would be."

You whine, knowing full well that Jeongguk is probably the best looking man within a ten mile radius.

"At least he didn't notice you," Minsu says, but that just makes you feel even worse. It's not like he should magically be aware of your presence, but you half thought that maybe some sort of cosmic entity tied you together; would defy the laws of human function and draw him towards you regardless.

You've barely had a chance to breathe by the time he's at the checkout, heading straight back out into the cold of winter - though your cold shoulder is far harsher, he thinks. Much more bitter.

Jeongguk pauses as he leaves the shop. Unwraps his gimbap with nimble fingers, the movements coming naturally to him. Never has to worry about pulling on the wrong tab and the seaweed unravelling in his hands. Is good with his fingers, in all capacities. Is ambivalent as he turns to face your direction.

Looks you dead in the eye. Takes a bite of his gimbap. Furrows his brows, 'cause it's delicious, and swallows it back with a satisfied hum. Lips pursed, he cleans his teeth with his tongue, and nods. Toys with his lip ring a little.

It does the thing .

You wanna whine.

Instead, your eyes are frozen on his, cheeks a little blushed. The rest of the ladies you're with are also staring at him. The silence is masked by the shop music and traffic on the road nearby, horns honking occasionally, until Jeongguk says, "hey, B."

The ajummas you're with don't even wait a second before the launch into their trade.

"Ah! What is it with men always thinking they can harass us?" Jinnae begins to scold, with Minsu joins in almost as quickly.

"You're too young for us! Look elsewhere."

"I swear, young men these days have no manners."

"We know everyone's aunties," Minsu threatens. "We'll tell her you were bothering us."

He holds his hands up - as much as he can, given the fact he's holding onto his gimbap and coke for dear life - and protests.

"I'm not! I'm not!" he promises, panic in his tone, eyes darting around the table at all of the other women - and then he settles on you.

You're not looking at him, now. Your eyes are on your hands, picking at the nail varnish on your fingers.

And he hates it.

In fact, it pisses him off. It's childish . You're both grown ups. Don't need to be giving each other the fucking silent treatment - as if he hasn't been doing that already.

"Was just looking for my friend," he says, his annoyance thinly veiled, but somehow still charming enough to get the ladies quiet for a moment. "Thought I saw her, but apparently she isn't here."

Minsu grimaces, and earns a tap on the arm from Jinnae.

Jeongguk hooks his thumb around his coke, holding it in the same hand as his gimbap, and reaches into his back pocket. Pulls out a small plastic pouch. It's a mystery bag - the kind by the counter with candy and a small toy inside. The Sanrio branding plastered all over it only further confirms this. He tosses it down in front of you. Says nothing.

It's a special edition. A new theme that had been brought in for the new year.

You pout as you look at it, noticing the packaging is covered in disco balls, reminiscent of a New Years Eve party.

All of the characters have been given little party outfits. Are glittery. Whichever character you pull will be byeol-ified from the get go. The Kuromi version is already sitting on Jeongguk's shelf, taking up a place on his chessboard.

He had picked it up on New Year's Day during his Powerade run to the convenience store for you and Jimin. Saw it and thought of you. Let you unwrap it, and watched on with starry eyes as you enthused over the fact you think he is a Kuromi boy. He doesn't really understand what that means, but he did like the way you had imitated his pout when you were trying to explain.

And so when he saw mystery bags by the counter again, he had picked one up. Knew you were outside - though is considerably confused about the ajumma situation - so figured he'd make peace with you.

When you look up, Jeongguk's already walking away.

You part your lips - go to stand, and call after him - but Jinnae puts her hand softly on your arm.

"Let him go," she says. "Just this once. Let him walk away."

"But-"

She shakes her head.

"It's obvious he cares. I won't debate that." Looking down to the sparkly packaging, knowing that it must have been your darling eyes that made him buy it, she smiles. "But walking away? Pretending that he doesn't care? Honey, he's acting like a kid."

"We've all raised boys," Minsu adds. "If you pander to them, they'll keep up with the bad behaviour."

"He's not a toddler," you laugh, strangely comforted by their wisdom.

"No, but he is a boy, still," Jinnae smiles back, and squeezes your arm. "Your ex-"

"The handsome one," Minsu interjects.

"-You always chased after him, yes?"

With a pout, you nod. Every single time.

"And he learned that there were no consequences to his actions," she sympathises. "If you care about your friendship with this one, then show him there are consequences. Show him your expectations of how you should be treated."

"But-"

You go to protest, but stop yourself. All you want is for things to be okay again - but Jinnae is right. Him walking away is just a sign he isn't fully ready to face up to it, yet.

"Honey," Junghee sighs. "You are better than any man who behaves like a baby. Sometimes they need a little push to grow up."

"Trust us," Jinnae smiles. "We're giving you the advice we wish we had been given! Decades change, but men don't. Still the same simple creatures."

And so, when you arrive home a little later and open up the mystery pouch to find a sparkly My Melody, you try out a little simplicity. Just send him a photo of her. No message. No plea for him to respond. It takes him three hours to read it. Just responds with a thumbs up emoji. You wanna scream.

So used to Seokjin and his insistence on always being mature, you've no idea how to handle Jeongguk's immaturity. He's petty .

Trouble is, he's just like you.

You sort of see why Seokjin hated it, now.

But Jeongguk is just a friend. You've no reason to be arguing with him like you would a partner. You don't speak to any of your other friends daily.

Just because the silence between you isn't normal for the pair of you as a collective, it is normal in the grand schemes of everyday life. Maybe it's okay.

A residual guilt lies in his stomach for the rest of the week, of which he can't seem to shake.

No amount of water he could drink would wash it away. It sits there, quite content, when he's in the gym, when he's sat at his desk staring into the void, when he's getting ready for a shift at Dionysus. It snuggles up; gets comfortable, even if it makes Jeongguk anything but.

He opens your text thread more times than he cares to admit over the week, but never texts. Nor do you.

Time typically taken up by Jeongguk is replaced with preparations for Taehyung's showcase at Ryu Gallery.

It's not a huge undertaking, but there is coordination and logistics that need to be taken into account. Tae's given you full control of liaising with the gallery professionals, which feels daunting. The process is new to you, so you're having to learn on the fly, but all has gone well so far. You've enough understanding of the gallery scenes to know what to do and say, even if you don't always know how to execute it.

For the most part, it's fine.

There is one day, though, where nothing seems to go right. The vans hired to move Taehyung's art are a no-show, and all the other affordable options are booked up. You spend all day trying to figure out a solution. There's only one person you know with enough trunk space to fit Taehyung's largest work.

He ignores your call. You figure he's studying.

So instead, you text him.

I really need your help. Please don't ignore me.

He calls back within thirty seconds. Arrives at the storage unit no more than ten minutes later. Barely utters a word to you. Opens the passenger door for you to get in, even when you say you'll walk to the Gallery.

"It's miles away. Don't be stupid."

"It's fine," you insist.

"Just get in the car."

"I-"

"Get in the car."

And so you do. The drive is silent. An apology rests on the tip of your tongue - but you aren't gonna give him it.

He helps you unload, silent, still. Makes sure everything is as it should be. Plays nicely with Tae and Nabi, even if he's a little cold with you. Rehashes the same dumb conversation with you as you prepare to leave.

"I can walk."

"No, you can't."

"I'm very much capable of walking home alone, Jeongguk," you say so sternly that he almost wants to snarl a response back.

Fine. Walk home alone. See what I fucking care.

Instead, and quite surprisingly, you find his hard eyes softening.

"Please," is all he says - and how can you refuse?

Jeongguk says nothing as you both get into his car. He looks ahead, stoic in the stern facade he's portraying. Hard to read, it feels almost like you're strangers again - but when you were strangers, you were both enthralled by the idea of what if.

He could have been anything, and so could have you.

He never anticipated that you'd end up being his favourite person in a crowded room. Always liked your glitter - always sought it out when he was behind the bar and looking for a friendly face - but never knew how much he'd like the girl wearing it. And once he learned? Well, he never imagined ever feeling this awful in your presence.

But see that's the thing.

Despite the heaviness of such a feeling, he doesn't want you to leave. Doesn't want you to walk away from him. Will take the uncomfortable tension in his car, if it means he gets the comfort of you being close by.

The city is far too small, he decides as he comes to a stop by your apartment. Got there far too quickly.

"Will you come?" You ask. "To Tae's show, I mean."

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

You nod. "Okay. I just know you've been studying and like, if it's just gonna add stress-"

"Byeol, it's fine," he insists. "I'm gonna be there. Are you going out afterwards?"

"Probably," you say. It's been strange not including him on your night out plans, though you sure his are the exact same. It's a whole group affair; a pocha bar for food and cheap drinks after the show, then Dionysus.

Jeongguk's in charge of the guestlist for the club, and you know you're on it. Taehyung confirmed it - so you know that he knows you're going out. Just wanted to hear it for himself, apparently.

"I'll see you then," he smiles.

"See you then."

As he drives off, you inhale an almighty sigh. Fuck .

--------------

Danbi sits with you later that evening in your living room, her Spotify playlist humming through the television speaker. Lights dim, glasses of wine on the coffee table, you both needed a breather from stress-ball Taehyung.

"I swear, men don't know how to regulate their emotions properly," she huffs, with a roll of her eyes, even despite her fond smile. Reaching over for your drink, you can't help but agree.

"You're telling me. He's a Capricorn right?"

Danbi nods.

"Earth signs," you sigh and pretend like you aren't thinking about your favourite Virgo. "Notoriously bad at opening up. That'll be where your issues lie."

"He's so forthcoming, normally, though," she pouts. "Had no problem with his feelings and confessing them to me. I don't understand why he can't deal with his feelings of stress."

"Different parts of the brain, maybe?" You shrug, not knowing if it is or not, but throwing any excuse into the void. "Like, think about it - you have no problem cooing over dogs all day long, but the second it comes to be openly affectionate with Tae-"

"I'm just not a PDA girlie!" she whines. "Do you think it bothers him?"

You shrug. "He normally seems okay with it - but that's not the point here. The point is that boys don't make sense. Everyone says they're so simple and yet I've never met anyone more confusing than Jeongguk."

Danbi smiles. Wondered how long it would take to get you rambling on about him.

"And like, I know ," you sigh. "He's a Virgo . I should have seen this coming. Wanna be all up in your business one moment and then off-grid the next. Classic Virgo. I just don't understand how he can be so rational and reasonable when it comes to me and my feelings, yet when it comes to his? Oh he just freezes up. I don't understand it. Do not understand. Do you understand?"

Maybe it's the fact you've both had a little too much wine, but Danbi can't understand either.

"What I don't understand why the fall out of such a small argument had to be so big," she hums. "Like you both said something shitty, but that's it. There's no reason why you still need to be in a mard with one another."

"Hey! He said something shitty."

"And you decided to start chewing out the girl he, like, lived and died for. Was always gonna get a bad response, darl. You know this."

Regretfully, she's right. Being a dick about Hayun was only ever gonna bite you in the ass when it came to Jeongguk.

"I just don't get how she can repeatedly be awful to him, and he just forgives her at the drop of a hat. I say one, maybe two unfavourable things, and it's like I've committed war crimes. Literally he's not spoken to me since, other than that god-awful CU run-in."

"You need to tell me more about those ajummas, by the way," Danbi laughs. "But like, trauma isn't it? Why do you say 'how high?' when Jin asks you to jump?"

You're silent.

"You want to keep him happy, 'cause him being upset with you made you feel horrible . You don't wanna feel that kind of pain again, so you do everything within your power to avoid it," she analyses. "I wouldn't be surprised if Jeongguk is just the same when it comes to her - so cut him a little slack, there. Yes, he was awful in what he said to you, and yes, you deserve an apology - but you weren't being fair to him either, my love."

You pout. "She's the worst though. Why can't he see that?"

"Maybe she's great in bed," Danbi offers, which only makes you frown more. "Or maybe she's just a manipulative bitch who knows how to play the poor boy like a fiddle."

That sounds more like it, but it makes you feel so bad.

"Think about it," she continued, before referencing the subway sighting from hell. "She knew Tae was coming to meet me for dinner a week or so back. He'd mentioned it on their group chat. Her shift at the tailors had finished, like, half an hour before then - and yet she invited Nabi to meet her right as she knew Tae was coming to meet me. Weasled her way into our plans and for what? A chance to scope me out?"

You consider her points, and are still so relieved knowing the truth of the subway sighting. Danbi had come home and ranted to you about it for a solid thirty minutes. Taehyung was seemingly just as blind to her intrusion and Jeongguk always is.

It's sort of a relief to know she's like this with Danbi, too. Hayun doesn't seem to like people taking up spaces that she left. Expected her seats to still be free upon her return.

It's just annoying that Jeongguk's lap is apparently her favourite.

While Taehyung's always liked Hayun, he's never been interested in her. Not romantically. Had a bit of a thing for Nabi when they first met in college, but nothing ever came of it. He didn't feel compelled to chase her. Not like he did with Danbi. He's glad for this, because he really does cherish his friendship with Nabi.

He also never really had to see the fall out of Jeongguk and Hayun, 'cause Jeongguk never wanted to put Taehyung in an awkward position. Kept his pain hidden away, only for Jimin to see.

Despite this, Taehyung is well aware that whatever went down wasn't pretty. Jimin doesn't cut people out for no good reason - but he also hasn't insisted that anyone else should, nor shared any of Jeongguk's dirty laundry.

By protecting his friend, he sort of feels like he's damaging him, too.

You do, at least, have one thing that Hayun can't compete with: your value to Taehyung when it comes to galleries.

Makes you smile just thinking about it the next evening, standing beside the artist himself as even more punters gush over his work.

The Ryu Gallery is a steep step up from the painting cafe.

It's a black tie event; cocktail dresses and silk shirts. The champagne in the flutes is real, this time. Taehyung's collection is being showcased alongside small artists from neighbouring cities. A few of them are fairly well-known within the circuit, and for him to rub shoulders with those he admires? Oh, it's incredible . The smile on his face, whenever he thinks no-one is watching him, is adorable.

You're pleased for him - and he's pleased to have you around whenever someone in a suit worth more than his monthly rent starts asking him questions. Still his official (unofficial) agent, you're doing all of the business talk for him. Building contacts. Creating a network for him.

From across the room, empty champagne flute in hand, arms folded across the front of his white shirt, Jeongguk doesn't mean to stare at you for quite so long.

Hair up, you've dyed it. The blonde is mostly gone, but there's a gradual fade now - dark to light - and he wonders how the fuck you managed it. Knows it must have been a salon job, but wonders how on earth you had time between the last-minute artwork transportation and the opening of the show.

You didn't. Danbi did it after half a bottle of wine and it's a miracle that it looks the way it does.

The dress you're wearing only adds to it.

It barely covers your ass, but is so puffy and pretty, it doesn't look indecent. He thinks - but is not entirely sure - that it's the Selkie dress you've been whining about since October.

He doesn't know what Selkie is. Just heard you say the word four million times.

You had wanted to order it, but apparently your size kept going out of stock as spooky season approached. "It's just a black dress!" You had pouted - but now that he can see it for himself, he knows that it was an understatement.

He's never seen you look more like yourself. A sheen of shimmer covers your skin, and your eyes are just as sparkly as they always are. Even your dress has a little sparkle.

It shouldn't. It's plain black. You and Danbi had just gotten a little creative with a can of fine-mist glitter hair spray the night before. Wine, apparently, leads to good decisions.

Sometimes .

You sort of look like a fairy, he thinks to himself with a smile - but then remembers you scornfully berating him for still 'believing' in them, when you had been arguing about Hayun.

In discussion with some men in suits, a hand resting on Taehyung's arm as you enthuse about his artwork, Jeongguk thinks you were made for a role like this. Eyes so kind, smile so genuine, he never doubts that you mean every compliment given to Taehyung.

Your other hand is holding onto a champagne flute, and Jeongguk counts your rings when he notices there are more than your usual three. One on your pinky and your thumb, two on your middle finger, and one that rests midway up on your index finger. None on your fourth finger. Never on your fourth finger. Nails black, they match your dress.

And that's when he realises what's missing.

There's no bird around your neck.

His gaze drops, throat bobbing as swallows down the 'fuck you' he wants to shout. He wouldn't mean it.

Just knows how important the necklace is to you. How important it is to him. How important it is that you've stripped yourself of it.

It's half an hour before Jeongguk dares to stand by you.

Looking at one of Taehyung's pieces, there's no one else beside you.

Until, like a magnet finally succumbing to its pull, he's back where he belongs.

"You're not wearing your necklace," he says quietly.

"Didn't match my dress," you simply say, but you both know it's a lie. The dress is just as whimsical as your eyes are sparkly. It would have looked perfect.

"Should have worn a different dress, then," Jeongguk says a little childishly.

"And you shouldn't have shown up with such a shitty attitude," you say, voice sweet despite the scathing nature of your words.

"Yeah, well maybe-"

"We're not doing this here," you hiss quietly. "Grow up."

Part of him wants to fight back, but it's mainly just because it's an excuse to talk to you for a little while longer. He doesn't actually wanna fight. He wants to say he's sorry and that his mind is everywhere all at once at the moment, and that he's only felt any semblance of clarity over the last few weeks when you've been in his sheets.

It's not for any deeper meaning other than the simple fact you help him switch off. Are good for him. Exactly the kind of influence he needs for his mile-a-minute brain.

So instead he nods. Tells you to have a good night. You wish him the same back. He goes to turn away but pauses, and says, "you shouldn't have worn a different dress. It looks great on you - gorgeous, actually - but the bird wouldn't have ruined it."

Oh, but it already has.

You don't thank him for his compliment. Try not to think about how gorgeous he looks, hair waving around his movie-star face, sparkly eyes pretty, dainty chains around his neck almost matching the shine in his irises. In all black except for his white shirt, he's your favourite artwork in the whole entire gallery.

Instead, you just walk away from him and back into the crowd, leaving him to find your friends once more.

He doesn't go to them immediately. Instead, he takes a moment to himself. Looks at some more of the art that isn't Taehyung's, and finds he doesn't like it half as much.

In a dress just as red as her lipstick, Hayun finds herself beside Jeongguk looking at the same painting. It's dark. Abstract. Not his cup of tea, yet he was drawn to it regardless.

"Here, buddy," Hayun smiles as she passes a champagne flute over to him. There's no hesitation to the way he accepts her offering, a subdued smile on his lips. Nodding towards the painting, she tries her best to pretend as if she didn't just watch the tense conversation unfold between you two. "Cool isn't it?"

"Mhmm," he nods, taking a sip of champagne. The bubbles catch in his throat, and it feels like he's swallowing marbles instead. Sort of wishes he was. Any excuse to leave the awkwardness of this evening would be welcome by him. "Not my favourite."

"Really?" She asks.

"Yeah. Think I prefer things a little more complex," he considers. "Not enough for me to focus on, yanno? My eyes get all jittery."

He doesn't even realise he's glancing over towards you, again. Needs a little glitter to sort his eyes out.

"You're such an oddball," Hayun smiles."Tae reckons this artist is the one to watch at the moment."

Jeongguk turns his nose up. "Tae's stuff is way better."

"Well yeah, but you're biased," she says warmly.

"You don't think so?" Jeongguk chirps a little surprised that she'd prefer something so boring.

"Don't get me wrong, I love Tae's work - this is just far more my style. When I finally have an apartment, I'll probably get something like this."

"Maybe Tae can put in a word for you," Jeongguk suggests. "See if he can get you something from the artist."

He doubts it very much - has seen the price tag - but it's a thought that seems to inspire her.

"You're a genius!" She smiles. "What would I do without you?"

Oh, it's rotten how everything seems to remind him of you; of the way it feels like he'll die without you. Had always been a joke before - but it really does seem like death would be preferable to an endless reality of this .

He feigns a smile. Shrugs. Changes the topic. "You going out after the show?"

Hayun pays no mind to the fact he ignored the question. Nods. "Yeah, we all are, aren't we?"

"Think so," he confirms. Wonders if you're still gonna be there or not.

Almost as if she can read his mind, Hayun asks, "Is she coming?"

" She has a name."

"And yet you knew exactly who I meant," she smiles, but it's entirely fake.

He doesn't like her tone.

"She's really important to me," he says, not looking for a fight, but fancying one regardless. "Please can you at least try to be nice?"

"I'm always nice."

Her tone is pedantic. She's being a little sassy for no good reason. Jeongguk doesn't have the patience at the moment to humour it. Has been too stressed - too upset - this past week. His social batteries are what they usually are.

And so he snaps a little.

"Can you not be like this?"

"Like what?" she recoils slightly.

" Mean ," he says. "We both know you weren't nice on New Years. You really upset her."

Hayun enjoys this fact, but hides her smile well. In fact, she pouts. Furrows her brows.

"She wasn't exactly kind to me , either."

Jeongguk knows this is probably true. Also knows that you likely think you were entirely justified.

"I don't care," he says. "She's the whole reason Taehyung's been able to network like this. Tonight's a celebration for Tae, yes, but we wouldn't be celebrating if it wasn't for her. I'm not asking you to be besties - just be nice. Please."

Hayun's silent for a moment.

"I'm not trying to be an asshole," she says quietly - and then she does offer some honesty. A rarity. "I've come back and someone else is sitting pretty where I used to. I don't know where I fit in anymore. This shit is hard, buddy."

"You'll make it harder for yourself by making enemies," he says softly, accepting her words to be genuine. He knows you've only seen the worst of her, but underneath it all, she's human, too.

"She looks at me like she wants to skin me alive!" Hayun whispers, with more animation than is really needed.

"Well, she kinda does," Jeongguk laughs, but doesn't elaborate. Will let Hayun stew on that one. "Look, just be kind, okay? She'll be nice if you're nice."

"Fine," Hayun shrugs. "But you better give her a talking to, as well. She called me a little weirdo last time I spoke to her. Who even says shit like that?"

Jeongguk smirks. Sounds exactly like the kind of thing you'd say.

"She's not really talking to me at the moment, so," he shrugs. "I probably won't."

Oh, now this does please Hayun. Pleases her so much. Suddenly, she does feel like playing ball. Will be nice as pie. Will give you all the smiles in the world. Will be kind. Might even kill you with it.

The smile of hers prevails throughout the night. You notice it occasionally, but do your hardest to ignore it. Barely even look in her direction.

Maybe it's wrong for you to take your frustrations out on her. Maybe she isn't all that bad - after all, Jeongguk is one of the best people you know. Surely someone he holds so close can't be that awful. Surely .

As the evening dwindles down, your group of friends gather up together to head to a bar downtown, celebrating Taehyung's success - except, he's not with them.

Nor are you.

You both stay behind just to do final checks with the exhibition coordinators, and then head to meet the group downtown.

They're in a pocha bar just a couple blocks down from Dionysus. There's only a few of you within the group that really have any business in a pocha bar. Afterall, what use is a happily committed person in a hunting bar?

Designed quite literally for the single to mingle, each table has a digital tablet affixed to it. It's where you order your drinks and food - of which, when you arrive, you can see your group has already got sorted - but also acts as a messaging device between tables.

If you see someone that tickles your fancy, you challenge them to a game, or just a chat. Something to get a little bit of communication bubbling; see if it could boil over.

Grinning to yourself, you think that Jeongguk's ragtag group of friends must be a nightmare for any other groups of single men in a pocha bar. You can't imagine groups of straight women wanting to message a table other than theirs.

That's the downside that comes with a pocha; you're divided on the basis of gender, because apparently sexuality is limited to attraction of the opposite sex.

Always makes you roll your eyes - but the food is cheap and the drinks are even cheaper, especially when it's a table from across the room buying them for you.

Though your tables are next to one another, the boys are at one end, and the girls are down the other. It's the only way you could be sat together.

Jeongguk sits opposite Yoongi, on the chairs closest to the girls table. Jimin, Namjoon and Hoseok are further away, closer to the digital tablet.

Squeezes Danbi's shoulders as he walks past, Taehyung nabs the seat at the far end of the table. He'd much rather be next to her, but equally doesn't mind being with the boys.

Separated by a gap in the tables, Seoyeon is 'beside' Yoongi. Right where she should be.

Opposite her, beside Jeongguk is an empty seat. Nabi is in the next seat over, facing Danbi. A table of six with only three girls sitting around it, the two chairs closest to the tablet are also free. An abundance to choose from, but there's only one you want.

Foolishly, as Jeongguk's eyes meet yours, you forget there's a thorn in your side. Are reminded as she enters your peripherals, thorn wedging deeper into your flesh, and waltzes straight through the gap in the tables.

His eyes don't leave yours. Not when she approaches. Not when greets him. Not when she sits down beside him.

All you can do is watch as she takes your place.

Though you suppose it wasn't really yours in the first place.

You push the unpleasantness of the feeling in your stomach to the side. Fuck Hayun. You don't wanna be such a misery guts, but she just ruins everything. Ruined Jeongguk and his perception of love, ruined New Years (almost) and now she's ruining your night.

She doesn't have to, you remind yourself. Just ignore her existence.

And so as Danbi passes you a shot, you do just that.

The music in the pocha is unbelievably loud; probably to encourage closeness between people, but it just means you spend your evening giggling with Danbi instead of even trying to get the boys attention - and that suits you just fine.

You don't pay notice to Jeongguk, nor Hayun, nor anything that could make you feel shitty in any regard. It's been a successful night. Taehyung did so well. You know that you'll be waking up to enquiries in your email inbox regarding his work.

Taehyung is the first to notice a message pop up in the corner of the tablet over on your table. Of he course he was. Had been glancing over to Danbi endlessly.

Red and imposing, the notification mark sits right where the chat threads should be. You're closest to it, so as Taehyung's laughing about the fact some idiotic group of guys had the gall to message your table when it's obvious you're with them, you click through.

"Table 12," you say with a little extra animation and wiggle of your eyebrows. Jimin's looking around, counting from the door to work out who it is - and when he spots a group of four girls giggling away, he knows it's them . And then you're laughing, too. "Oh shit. Wrong table. They meant to message you guys."

"What are they after?" Jimin enthuses. "Are they talking about the handsome stud in the middle of the table?"

You snort a little, holding back a laugh. "Not quite."

Your eyes flick over to Jeongguk, then back to the screen. You poise yourself a little flirtily - get in the right headspace to read such a message.

"Tattoo guy" - you glance up towards him again, and think it's sweet that he looks a little bashful. - "Fancy giving us a tour of your tattoos? Show us yours and we'll show you ours."

Another message pops through as you're reading aloud, so you continue.

"P.S. you'll have to take our clothes off first to see ours."

"Holy shit," Danbi laughs, and you find yourself laughing too - more so at the look on the faces of all of the boys. Even Yoongi looks a little bewildered - but so does Seoyeon.

Confident girlies are always the best girlies - you bet they're a lot of fun to be friends with.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" you tease Jeongguk. Secretly, you like the idea of Hayun having to watch other girls swoon over him; get her sweating out that 'irreplaceable' attitude she likes to parade herself around with. "Do it!"

He swallows as he looks at you. Is ignoring the taunts and excitement from the boys around him, even as they ping bottle caps at him. His chest hides the thud, thud, thud of his heart well; the challenge of flirting with girls who aren't you making him feel all strange.

But you're encouraging it.

Maybe he should.

"On one condition," you add with a giggle. God, he's missed you. "You have to make up fake stories for all of your tattoos."

Jimin laughs. Agrees. "Gotta tell them the most unhinged shit, and see if they still wanna shag you."

The tables enthuse over Jeongguk's potential faux tattoo history, and decide he got his snake to overcome a fear - but it failed and now he screams every time he looks at it.

"You have to do the scream, too" Seoyeon giggles, then does the most adorable little squeak you've ever heard. Yoongi looks at her with liquor-laced lips that are abundant with love. "Like that! Gotta scream like that."

Jeongguk imitates her, and has everyone cracking up. He repeats it - looks down at his tattoo, and screams out a tiny little squeak. Earns a confused look from the table next to him. Does it again. Some of the wait staff also look at him now. You and Danbi are practically falling onto one another's laps from how ridiculous but how committed to the bit he is.

"Okay, okay," Taehyung laughs. "What about the flowers?"

"Hmmm.. He's allergic?" Jimin says right off the bat. "Had the ink infused with pollen, because he thought it would cure him. Arm nearly fell off instead."

"Perfect," Taehyung beams, chortling with laughter.

"I'm not gonna be able to remember any of these," Jeongguk smiles - but truthfully he's just nervous. Doesn't wanna go and strike up a conversation with strangers. Wants to stay here and keep the people he cares about laughing.

His gaze falls on yours, and he's pleased to see that your smile doesn't fade.

It's so nice to see him sparkle again.

He purses his lips, fond dimples etching into his cheeks.

And maybe it's the alcohol, but you think he's got eyes that are worthy of forgiveness, even if a 'sorry' hasn't left his pretty lips.

They part a little, his tongue nervously flicking at his lip ring. It does - as it so often does - the thing . It's as if he wants to say something, but the words never quite make it out.

It's only been a moment or so, but you notice Seoyeon nudging Yoongi from across the table, being far less than subtle as she draws his attention to the pair of you.

Immediately dropping Jeongguk's gaze, you feel your cheeks flame a little, just as rosy, as the flutter in your heart is delicate.

He hasn't said sorry, you remind yourself. He's not forgiven.

And yet being in his company after a few drinks just makes all the residual hurt of the past week or so fade into nothingness. Happiness comes so easily around him.

Or at least it does, until Hayun starts to toy with Jeongguk's arm, pointing at tattoos that you don't know the meaning of, and saying shit like 'you can't lie about that one,' or 'you held my hand so hard I thought you'd break it when you got that one.'

You lean over to Danbi, and squeeze her arm.

"Just gotta make a quick call," you say, holding up your phone. "Won't be long."

She nods and hurries out a "yeah, yeah. Of course. That's fine, go for it. Want me to order any more drinks?"

You scan the table, which is littered in bottles and small spillages, and decide that above everything else, you're hungry.

"Sotteok sotteok?" You suggest, having seen the table next to you get the delicacy - rice cakes and sausages on a skewer, coated in sauce - delivered to them ten minutes ago.

"YES!" she exclaims, immediately reaching over to the tablet to order some, then grins back over at you. "Go, make your call. I'll keep your food safe from the boys."

"Angel," you grin right back, excusing yourself. There's no commotion as you do so - everyone is engaged in their own conversations, music blaring, chaos in every corner.

Danbi explains where you've gone to anyone who asks, and nobody questions it.

Nobody except for Jeongguk.

"Call who?" He queries, brows furrowed. Thinks it can't be anything work-related - too late for that - but also knows how many fuckers in suits tonight seemed to know you in relation to Seokjin. Wonders if maybe it's him.

When Danbi just shrugs, Jeongguk nods.

He studies the space left by you, empty and vacant, and wonders if you'd rather be with him , right now. Wonders how often you've thought about him tonight. Wonders if you think about him when it's just you and Jeongguk together.

Wonders if you ever think these things about Hayun.

He tries not to waste his time worrying, eyes focused on the windows towards the front of the bar, but he can't seem to help himself - and when he finally does catch a glimpse of you?

He smiles . Laughs, even. Tries to keep his giggle to himself, and is thankful no one notices.

Directly across the street is an arcade, lined in neon lights and cheap cash grabs that will give you no return. You pry the final few coins out of your purse and sink them into an endless pit of despair, just in the hopes you'll get a teeny tiny little My Melody plushie.

The mechanical whir of the machine is obscured by the music blasting out, some song by a new group that you don't know by name. Prime location, in the middle of the nightlife district, you're sure you've sunk more money into this arcade than you probably have into any of the bars. As soon as you get a few shots in you, you convince yourself you can win everything .

You've never won anything.

Still, it's not just the shots that have you here today (though you and Danbi have worked through two bottles of soju each, and the night has barely started).

It's your need to think about something else, other than the sorry state of affairs between you and Jeongguk, that has you gambling.

Things shouldn't have to be this complicated, you think as you rummage around for another coin in your purse. The bastard machine just eats it and barely even tries to hook onto the plushie that you've expertly lined up.

It's an endless slog of effort, money, time put in. Nothing left to show for it.

Funny, how often that seems to happen.

You return to the table empty handed. No one else realises where you went. No one except Jeongguk - but he isn't paying attention to your return.

Mainly because a message came through while you were away. Table 23. "Black dress - hate to see you go but love to watch you walk away."

Danbi had read it with a giggle in your absence, and as soon as you return, she finds great pleasure in showing you.

"Table 23?" You laugh, flattered. "Don't wanna turn around. Are they cute?"

Danbi glances behind her shoulder, but averts her eyes almost immediately. "Oh crap. They're looking," she whispers as she leans in a little closer to you.

Nabi uses her vantage point on the opposite side of the table to scope them out. Hayun's too busy listening into the boys conversation and inserting herself where she isn't wanted to pay attention to you.

"Okay," Nabi enthuses. "There's three of them. Two of them keep looking over, but one of them refuses to, even when they nudge him, so I think it's him."

"And?" you giggle, still wanting to know if he's cute.

"He..." she pauses. Bites her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"He...?!" You laugh, not caring to stop yourself, with a little shake of your head. There are stars in your eyes, lights from the bar reflecting in them like the Northern Lights. You're a sight to behold when you're like this; just as radiant as your glitter is sparkly.

"Hey."

The voice behind you as someone comes to stand by your table is new . Deep. A little purry.

"Hi," you smile, looking up to the man now standing in the space between your table and the next group over. Tall, you think first. Handsome, second.

"Can I sit for a second?" He asks, not even bothering to introduce himself first. Nabi scoots over instantly, a smile plastered all over her face. Danbi is pinching you beneath the table.

"Sure," you nod, a little coy, not wanting to give away your total satisfaction.

He's dreamy as he takes a seat, shirt white, hair slicked back in that sexy kinda James Dean way that always makes you a little hot under the collar. He smiles, and his eyes are just as kind as his grin is charming.

"A bar like this is no place for a dress like that," he says resting his arms on the table. Leans forward a little. Is engaged in conversation with you, and you alone.

"No?" you flirt a little. "Where should it be instead?"

The insinuation of your question is clear, and you know that his mind will have jumped to the only logical answer: his bedroom floor.

But with a smile like his, you should have known he'd be a gentleman.

"Somewhere classier," he supposes.

"Are you saying I should leave?" You raise a brow.

He shakes his head. Doesn't drop his eyes from yours. "No. At least, not without giving me your number."

"I don't even know your name," you say with a roll of your eyes.

He holds out his hand for you to shake. You consider it - but instead, you hold out your own hand for him to kiss. With a smirk, tongue running along his teeth, he concedes. Holds your fingers and rests his pretty eyes closed as his lips press against your knuckles.

"Park Seojoon."

You nod. Accept his name into your brain. Feel Jeongguk's eyes burning into your hand, which is still being held by Seojoon.

A few drinks in, and a little vindictive, you're glad . It's stupid because you will scream if anyone else decides you're jealous of Hayun - but you sort of want Jeongguk to be jealous that there's someone new sitting in the seat opposite you.

"And yours?" Seojoon asks. "It's only fair."

"Give me your phone," you say, not wanting to give him an easy win.

You also wanna check he isn't a sleazebag with a girlfriend.

You've met plenty of those. Dated one not so long ago - and he wasn't too dissimilar from Seojoon. Tall, handsome, chivalrously charming. Yeah. You know men like him.

And yet he doesn't hesitate. Unlocks his phone. Lets you have at it. You do as you wish, with no complaint from him - which is open up instagram. His search history is pretty clear: the bar you're currently at, a few of his friends, some idol singer who you assume he has a crush on. Nothing that screams red flag.

Typing in your username, you give yourself a follow, and hand it back.

"There. Don't need my number, now."

A message pings through on the table tablet.

Table 23: He knows how to cook

Table 23: Has his own apartment

Table 23: Is a CEO

Table 23: Massive cock

Table 23: His personality, I mean

Table 23: Dunno about his dick

Table 23: Saves cats from trees on the weekend

"Please ignore my friends," he laughs. "I think they're going for the hard sell. So embarrassing."

"So none of it's true?" You grin right back, enjoying the ridiculous nature of it all.

He shrugs. Smirks. "Some things are. Some things aren't. I'll let you find out which is which."

Even more messages ping through.

Table 23: He showers twice a day

Table 23: Speaks 14 languages

Table 23: Is still a virgin

Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head, but his smile prevails. He looks like a movie star; suave and sweet all at the same time.

"I gotta go sort my friends out," he laughs. "But I'll message you, okay?"

With a giggle and small nod, you say, "I'll be waiting."

"Okay," he grins, all bashful and endearing, not really wanting to go.

"Okay," you tease a little.

He's barely even left his seat before Nabi and Danbi are squealing.

Jeongguk's eyes are down, and he's twiddling with his thumbs. Face of thunder, you think he's being a baby. A big, pouty baby. Good .

"Right," Jimin declares loud enough for you all to hear. "Dionysus? I wanna dance."

You hold hands with Danbi and Hoseok for the entire walk. It's only a few streets over, but being drunk always makes the walk so much longer - plus you really shouldn't have had so much to drink on such an empty stomach, especially after running around prepping the show all morning.

"CU," you hiccup as you walk past the convenience store. Open 24 hours, you dread to think about the sorry state of people of whom the cashiers have to deal with. Knowing that you're a mess at the moment? Yeah. You feel bad. Will probably apologise to the poor uni student working behind the counter. "Snacks."

The others are walking ahead a little and you don't bother to stop them. Will just meet them in the club. Your names are on the guestlist, courtesy of Jeongguk, so it's not like you'll have to queue to get in.

Unless he takes your name off the guestlist.

Of which he half considers when they get to the bar and he realises you're not there.

"You seen B?" He asks Jimin, but is met with a shake of his head.

"No clue."

Half an hour later, under the bright strobes of the club, Jimin finds you asking him the exact same thing.

"Where's Jeongguk?"

And again, all he can say is "no clue".

You spend the night missing each other; emotionally, physically.

There are only so many places you can be in Dionysus. In fact, from the bar, Yeonjun can often see you both and wonders why you're so far apart from one another - but also notices the bright red ball and chain that seems to be attached to Jeongguk. The closer you get, like the magnets you are, the further she drags him away.

It's painful to watch, Yeonjun thinks. Can't seem to figure out a good reason why Jeongguk is wasting time with anyone that isn't you.

But waste it he does.

His one night to let his hair down, to feel fucking normal , and instead he feels like his head is gonna cave in. The shots aren't helping, and the way his head snaps to every glimmer of light just in case it's you is borderline embarrassing.

It's not until just gone 1 AM, when he returns from that little courtyard of his, Hayun closely behind, that he finally catches a glimpse of Hoseok and Danbi. You're nowhere to be seen and when he questions it, Danbi doesn't wanna tell him jack shit.

"Just wanna know if she's okay," Jeongguk explains as they stand by the bar, but again, Danbi doesn't give a shit.

"I know she's okay," she simply shrugs. "There's your confirmation."

"Dan-"

"You haven't even fucking said sorry yet!" she erupts at him, a little fiery when she's been drinking and ever so protective of her friends. None of the group are with them, so she doesn't hide her frustrations. "You fucked her, then basically told that her a nasty piece of work is worth more to you than she is. What was it you said? That Hayun is trying to fix your friendship?"

Jeongguks tongue runs along the inside of his cheek, a little pissed that the entire conversation has been relayed to Danbi. Jimin obviously knows most of what happened, but he was in the apartment. It is unfair though, for him to think you wouldn't need to vent about what had been said. He knows he did.

When he doesn't reply, Danbi rolls her eyes.

"If fixing your friendship with Hayun comes with the price of ruining the friendship you have with a girl, who's quite literally only ever wanted what was best for you, is it really worth it? Huh?" Danbi antagonises.

He goes to speak, but Danbi shakes her head.

"I know you're Tae's friend, and I'll never get in the way of anything between you guys - but if you think for a second I'm not gonna prioritise my best friend just to make things a little more comfortable for you, you're wrong. You know just as well as I do how much her piece of shit ex fucked with her. So either you be fucking nice to her, or you leave her alone. "

The final sentence stings Jeongguk like a wasp.

It's not too dissimilar from what he's said to Hayun.

Danbi sighs. Looks down. Shrugs her shoulders as her hands tap against the tops of her thighs. Walks a little closer, because she knows fighting with Jeongguk is the last thing you'd want her to do.

"She's at home. Texted me about five minutes to let me know she got there okay... just," she sighs again. Knows that you'll probably be annoyed with her for telling Jeongguk about it in the morning. "Just tell her that you're fucking sorry, okay? Fix it."

Jeongguk is in a taxi en route to yours within two minutes.

------------

You've barely changed out of your dress, just in your matching black set, when your phone begins to ring. The caller ID is one that you've been wanting to see all week, but you're not sure you want to answer, now.

Just can't seem to help yourself, though.

Reaching over for the shirt of his on the back of your chair, you pull it over your body.

"Hello?"

"B..." Jeongguk breathes out. "I... Fuck. I'm at your door. Please can I come in."

"A bit presumptuous for you to show up first," you hum, arm folding across your chest, hand resting on the crease of your elbow.

"I know," he says, about to launch some ramble about how he's sorry and how he thinks he might die if things stay as they are - but then the latch of your door goes, and there you are. Phone to your ear, in little more than a shirt that belongs to him, with an unreadable expression on your face, you shrug.

"Could have knocked."

"Didn't wanna wake anyone," he says, as if he wouldn't have knocked had the call gone to voicemail.

"Danbi's out," you shrug, and then push the door a little further open. Silently invite him inside. He's always welcome, even when you're mad at him. Maybe especially when you're mad at him. Could be anywhere. Could be away from you. And yet he's right where you want him to be.

He's only in your apartment for a moment or so before he clocks the white roses on the kitchen counter. Another 'sorry I couldn't make it' gift from Seokjin. The card is face up, so it doesn't take much for Jeongguk to know exactly who they're from. He says nothing of them.

"Freezing in here," you say, then knock your head to the side and encourage him into your room. "C'mon. I've got the heater on in there."

He does as you say, 'cause he considers himself lucky to be in your home. Lucky that you didn't open the door just slam it in his face. Lucky, just for the simple fact he knows you.

"What brings you here?" you ask, taking a seat on your bed.

Jeongguk stands. Looks around your room. Likes that you've got your little pink neon light on. The glow hazes around your body, ethereal in the way it makes your glitter sparkle.

He doesn't answer immediately.

You're still tipsy, and so is he. Hair dishevelled, jacket tossed on your bedroom floor, Jeongguk looks good. Not that he doesn't always, it's just... nice seeing him dressy. Smart pants, a button up shirt. The sleeves are rolled, forearms exposed just like they were in the bar earlier. Girls drool at the mouth from the sight of him alone.

And he's in your room.

You have something people want.

Him .

You'd quite like to keep it.

Yours .

He nibbles down on his bottom lip, unsure of how to phrase anything that wouldn't sound awkward. His lip ring glistens in the neon light, and it's like you're wearing novelty glasses that scatter hearts around bright light when you look at him.

So you stand.

Say nothing.

Brazen in your drunken haze, you shrug.

Reach for the hem of his shirt, and pull it up your body, over your head.

When your eyes meet Jeongguk's again, his lips are parted. He's confused. Mentally, emotionally, physically. Doesn't really understand.

You're naked save for the matching set you're wearing. It's one he knows well. One he's taken off many times before. One that he didn't think he'd be seeing tonight.

"If you're here to fuck me, then fuck me," you say a little coldly. "If not, you can go."

"B, that's not why I'm here," he says, but his eyes are on your body, now. His lips fold in on themselves. Throat bobs as he swallows.

"So go," you say.

He shakes his head.

"Well, I don't wanna talk," you say all rather childishly. "So this is your option. Fuck me, or leave."

"That's not fair."

"Life's not fair."

"Why are you being like this?"

The answer is simple: You want to be useful for him.

Oh, it's so pathetic. You want him to use you.

Not in a sexy, degrading kind of way, but a pathetic, needy kind of way. The same kind of way you let Seokjin use you. If Jeongguk fucks you, your drunken, out-of-sync head will think it means you still serve a purpose. Like he still needs you.

"Said it yourself," you shrug. "The people I care for use me."

He furrows his brows.

" I never used you," he hisses. "Not once did I ever fuck you just to use you."

"So then why the fuck did you?" You hiss right back, angry for the sake of being angry. "Why do you sleep with me? Still?!"

"Because I care about you!" He matches your volume, not really sure if he has the appropriate words to articulate himself with. "Because you're my friend, and I care. Because it was something we both wanted at the time. Because I like the way you feel, and I like the way you make me feel. If that's using you, then so be it - but not once was my own gratification at the top of the list of reasons why. Not once. Not ever."

Anything he could have said would have been wrong. You would have argued against him, contradicted yourself, gone round in circles regardless of what he had said.

"So it was never just because you wanted to fuck me?" You scoff. "There was always a big list behind it? Intentions? You never just wanted me? It was never just enough to want me?"

Jeongguk knows you. Knows what you're doing. Doesn't fight back.

"I wanted you. B, I still want you," he says softly - but when your hard gaze doesn't ease, he gets defensive. He also, strangely, starts to undo his shirt buttons, too. "And what about you, huh? Did you not use me? Hm?"

You're silent as he reaches the bottom of his shirt; toned chest exposed, honey skin warm.

"I can't hear you, B," he taunts. "Is that not exactly what you've done with me? Used me ?"

And then his fingers are fiddling with the buckle of his belt, too, standing so close to you that you can smell his aftershave.

"I never fucking used you," he whispers harshly, hands cupping your cheeks to pull you closer. You nestle into his touch, eyes wide and a little watery. Hands holding onto his waist, you're reminded of just how warm he always is. His nose nudges against yours.

You're both drunk. None of this makes much sense. Not now, and likely not when you're sober either.

"You're my best fuckin' friend. My best friend. You know how much I adore you?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Lifts his lips to press them against your forehead. "Never used you, Byeol. Never ."

It's not an apology, but it is something .

And after a week of nothing?

Oh, it's so lovely to have something .

"Please," you begin to say quietly, as if he's not already half undressed with no intention of leaving you. "Don't leave."

"Didn't come here to fuck you," he says. "But I also didn't come here to leave either."

"You don't have to fuck me," you say, a little embarrassed and ashamed of the ultimatum you'd thrown his way in the heat of your anger. "You can stay. I don't give a shit about the sex. I'm sorry. I just, I was so mad with you and I don't understand what's going wrong with us and-" you pause, scared you might cry, but catch your breath first before it wobbles. "And I think I was trying to reduce you to meaning something far less than what you do. I've been a terrible friend. Awful. I just..."

Jeongguk shakes his head. "I've not been a saint, either B. I'm sorry, too. Both said some shitty things. Both know we didn't mean them. Right?"

You nod, face still loosely in his grasp, brows pinching together all forlorn and pitiful.

"Look like a lil emoji, you do," he smiles down at you. "Can we just go to bed? I'm still a little drunk and I really don't wanna stand up anymore. Just want things to be normal again."

There's nothing more to argue about. Nothing that will make either of you feel any better. You're his only remedy.

And, so, somewhere between half-drunk apologies, and rambles of who was the bigger asshole, and who appreciates who more, you begin a dance you know all too well.

You touch. Stroke. Hold. Know that you shouldn't, but you roam. Feel .

He does the exact same thing back.

Whines a little, dulcet and needy, whenever you reach a spot he likes.

Neither of you seem to mind that the fumble is a little awkward, or the fact that you're both starting at zero. It's unlike you. You're both normally ready and raring to go - but the night has been draining and neither of you really expected to end up in this situation.

Truthfully, you know that you shouldn't take things further.

But you also know it's the only way things will really feel normal again.

Eventually, encouraged , Jeongguk sinks himself into you, unprotected. 

Skin on skin, it's nothing new, but it's important, you think. Want him close. Want him yours.

And when he's like this?

Well, you've both said it before. It sort of feels like he is.

"Don't wanna fuck anyone that isn't you," he husks into the crook of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. "I know you're mad at me, but I don't wanna fuck anyone else."

His slow hips build up pace as he fucks himself into you, repeating himself. "Only wanna fuck you. You know that right? No one feels like you do."

You're not sure you believe him. It makes you sad. So inexorably, pitifully sad.

Yet the way he feels inside you makes your heart swell .

And so you say nothing; just let dulcet little whines escape your lips as he fucks himself deeper into you, wanting his intentions to be known.

You want to believe him. Want to believe that his words are as honest as you like to tell yourself his heart is.

"It doesn't matter," you husk back to him. "Doesn't matter if you wanna fuck other people. You're not mine."

But if he's not yours, it means you're not his either, and Jeongguk kind of hates that reality.

So he fucks you like you are. Buries his head into your neck, keeps you trapped beneath the safety of his body, does all the hard work so you can just feel good. With him. For him. Because of him. In spite of him.

He doesn't kiss you, but he wants to. Not just because he's horny and he likes the way it feels, but because it sort of feels like he'll cry if doesn't. Instead, he rests his nose against yours. Will let close the gap, if you want to.

And see the thing is, you're just so scared he'll say something that will shatter your soul, that you think it's safer to kiss him. Think your soul will be better protected if your lips are on his, even if it means he can steal it.

Pressing your lips up against his, you let him whine into your mouth. It's indistinguishable, but you swear you can almost hear his words: I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours. Or maybe, just stupid, stupid, stupid.

Either could be applicable.

Jeongguk doesn't think it matters. His words mean nothing. It's his actions that hold weight now. His choices .

He's made a few bad ones in the last few hours, but not you. Never you.

"Speak to me," he husks into your lips.

But what is there to say? He's choosing you now, granted, but he chose her tonight. Chose her in front of his friends. Chose her during the week. Let someone else choose you, instead.

"Byeol, baby." He grits through strained grunts. " Please ."

The way 'baby' always gets you folding has you so mad at yourself; but all you want is to pretend like he means it.

"Koo," you whimper back as he continues fucking himself into you.

"Yeah?"

"Keep it like that," you manage to say. "Feels so good like that."

"Yeah, baby?"

You nod. Press kisses into his neck. Let your nails scratch down his back. Leave evidence of him losing himself to you on his skin. Paint him in the colour of what it's like to love you, even if he doesn't.

When you reach down to rub yourself a little, to bring you closer to an orgasm, Jeongguk knocks your hand to the side. He wants to do it. He wants to be the reason why. He has to be. He has to make you come undone to make up for the fact it feels like he's falling apart, too.

It's embarrassing how quickly he gets you there. Stupid how your heart swells when your pussy miscommunicates, and tells you that your orgasm actually means something . Lame, how much your smile softens for him.

But then he's doing just the same. Asking where he should finish, and stuttering when you beg for what you want.

"Please, Koo. Inside me. Please."

But there's a weight to filling you raw that he can't bear, yet. He's not strong enough. And so he edges as far as can, pulling out only when he feels his release travelling through his body. Wanks himself onto you, spilling his cum all over your pussy; mound, lips, clit. You're his, his, his . Or at least, at this moment, you are. Once you clean yourself up, the feeling will fade.

Your mind taunts you. Something about Egypt, and rivers.

As his body collapses on yours, Jeongguk spent, you hold him close. Hug him. Never want him to leave, because you're scared that you'll lose him again. Scared that he'll choose her. Scared that he'll leave, just like Seokjin always does.

Of course, he doesn't. He tosses you his shirt as he goes to grab your something to clean yourself up with from the bathroom. Waltzes around your apartment in just his boxers, as if it's a home you share. Strokes your back when you both go to brush your teeth, and is the one to grab the water when you eventually head to bed. Stands by you just beforehand, and rids you of his shirt. Gets you naked, 'cause he wants to feel your skin against his, in the simplest, most human of ways.

He tells you to get into bed as he heads back to the sitting room. You do as he says, and watch him through the gap in your bedroom door as he goes to check the front door is locked. There's no intention for him to leave in the night. Will never leave his side of your bed cold. Won't abandon you.

Because he does choose you. He chooses you time and time again.

And though you don't realise it, yet, he chose you tonight. You over her .

Perhaps it wasn't a linear choice and perhaps there were half a dozen smaller choices that contradict his largest one, but it counts for something.

"I got you something," he whispers against your shoulder, finally back in your bed with you.

"Hmm?" You question, a little curious but not really wanting anything from him.

There's a coldness to your disinterest; one that Jeongguk is well aware of, but trying to ignore. He's only known you like this once, really - the time he lied to you.

Knows that you're probably processing through similar emotions. Knows it means you likely think he's lying about something. Knows that he should tell you what happened in your absence tonight - but he's scared, and thinks he'll lose you entirely. Thinks things are already hanging by a thread. 

Doesn't realise that the red strings of fate take more than just a vicious pair of ruby nails to tear through them.

And so he doesn't tell you.

Instead, he leans over the edge of his bed to grab his coat and rummages around in the pockets until he finds what he's after.

The softening of your eyes as he presents you with the pretty little plushie you'd been trying to win earlier on in the night? Oh, it's like Jeongguk can breathe again.

"Know you wanted it," he mumbles, passing it over to you. Looks away a little, then focuses on your hands, where you gently clasp the My Melody.

He doesn't tell you the part where he spent 30,000won on a plushie worth no more than 5000. Doesn't tell you that he accidentally won a Cinnamoroll, too, and gave it to a group of kids who really had no business being out so late in the party area of town. One of the girls, who could have been no more than thirteen, had a little Cinnamoroll scrunchie in her hair. The group unanimously decided that she'd be the one to keep it.

The simplicity of such an exchange between friends had Jeongguk thinking of you. First and foremost, you're his best friend. There's no person he'd rather be with when he's feeling as torn apart as he is now - but when you look at him, and smile softly, he feels like maybe you could help put him back together, too.

"You got me her," you say, stating the obvious.

"I got you her," he confirms. Watches as your eyes sparkle in the low luminescence of your neon light, pouring over the little plushie, checking all the details. "Is she okay?"

You nod. Hold her close. Look over to Jeongguk. Find that he's far too far away. Reach your arm out for him to come closer. He reaches up for your fingers, and just holds your hand. Pulls you closer. Gets you exposed, your sheets pooling around your waist as he moves you. Your other hand is still clutching your little plushie, not caring for keeping yourself covered anymore, coming to sit in Jeongguk's lap, right where he wants you.

"Look," you say softly, wiggling the floppy ears of the plushie. "See her ears?"

Jeongguk watches you with subtle adoration, and hums a quiet confirmation.

"What colour are they?" You ask, deciding to give him lore he never asked for.

Stroking his hands up your waist, just to keep you close, he wonders if it's a trick question. "Pink."

You shake your head. "Nope. She's wearing a hood. Her hood is pink. Her ears are white."

"Trick question," he pouts, which makes you smile. Kinda was. Kinda knew he'd get it wrong.

And so you kiss him to say sorry. Kiss him, as if you aren't just friends. Kiss him, as if he's not holding on to your bare waist for dear life. Kiss him, as if he's not naked, and nor are you. Kiss him, like it's normal.

He keeps his forehead pressed to yours when you withdraw, and lets his nose nudge up against your own. Strokes gently against it. Loves the way it feels. Just another thing about you he'll never understand, but also never complain about.

"What was that for?" he whispers.

"For being a good friend," you whisper right back. "I know I'm not always easy."

Jeongguk shakes his head. Doesn't think he's been a good friend in the slightest. Knows you'd agree, if you knew the chain of events that had led him to your door.

His hands stroke up your back and encourage a hug, of which you naturally fall into. Arms around his neck, you press another kiss into his hair, as his lips do the same just beneath your ear.

"Best friend," he whispers against your skin. Hugs you tighter. Never wants to let go. "I don't deserve you. I'm so sorry."

You shrug. Neither of you have acted like saints over the last week or so. You afford him a little extra wiggle room, because you know he's not really been himself lately. Things said in the heat of the moment aren't always a reflection of true feelings.

You pull away a little. Stroke his hair back. Tuck his long fringe behind his ears and smile at how pliant he is for you. And then you kiss him again. Hands on his cheeks, lips soft. Just once.

"I'm still tipsy," you lie. "Don't get used to it."

"I won't," he promises - but oh, how he wishes he could.

See, Jeongguk thinks he knows , now. Thinks that he knows the way he's feeling. Thinks he understands his brain, and his heart, and the silly little things they tell him; secrets whispered only for him to know. You've done it again, Jeongguk. We told you not to. You said you wouldn't.

But he ignored them then, and he'll ignore them now, for he knows that in the coming weeks he won't be able to.

"I've never known you without your tattoos," you mumble your thoughts aloud, eyes on his arm as your fingers trace the lines. Jeongguk's never really given it much consideration before. Had been too busy looking at you even to realise your contemplation. "Never seen your skin without art on it."

He's slow as he rests the side of his index finger beneath your chin and tilts your head in the opposite direction. Your eyes are on his other arm, now.

"There," he says softly. "Looked just like that."

You smile. Stroke your fingertips up the inside of his bare forearm. Deliberately move from freckle to freckle, marvelling at the wonder of his natural markings; the things that make him human.

"I wonder what it would have been like to know this version of you," you say quietly.

"Me too," he replies. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm glad you know this version."

"You are?"

Part of you is disappointed. Feels like maybe he's aware there wouldn't have been space for you with Hayun around.

He nods, looking up at you with wide eyes and an awareness that he needs to be careful with his words. The lines beneath his eyes deepen as he smiles, little specks of pink light catching in his dark irises. Prettier than any flower, you think.

"We both had life to live," he says. "Lessons to learn. At least, I did. I think if I'd have met you sooner I would have ruined things."

"How so?"

"Dunno," he lies. Remembers the way Hayun told him his feelings would ruin things, too. Saddens him that he was put on this earth to love in abundance, and yet all his heart ever seems to do is destroy things.

"Probably would have fallen in love with you, or something stupid like that."

The silence he's met with is expected.

The way you shrug, and say "maybe I would have fallen in love with you, too," is not expected.

It silences him. So you just smile.

"I guess we'll never know. Doesn't matter, though, does it?"

"Suppose not," Jeongguk says with a tight, closed-lip smile. His lip ring doesn't do the thing, and the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it's late and there's no need to be over analysing careless words in the comedown of a drunk hookup.

You fall asleep far easier than he does. Content in his arms, you know that awkward feelings towards his ex aren't worth fighting over. If you and Jeongguk were together, then maybe. If he fucked her again, then maybe. If he started withholding small portions of truth from you to spare her, then maybe.

But for now, you'll put her down as an annoyance. Bad pollution. Rain falling on your journey to work. One pump of shampoo left in the bottle, when you really need three. Not something to stress about, just something to be aware of.

And when you wake up to a still sleeping Jeongguk wrapped around your waist, like an expensive watch on his wrist, the red stain of the bar stamp still smudged on his hand, you forget her entirely. Can't recall her name. Don't know her perfume. Decide that she doesn't exist. Has no place in your life.

Yet if you were to pay attention, you'd know it was her lipstick tarnishing the back of his hand; smeared as he'd push it off of his lips on his way out of the club, trying to rid himself of the way she felt. Trying to mask the sensation that came with succumbing to her. Trying to attribute the feeling on his lips to the pressure of them against his hand, not her lips.

Jeongguk wakes up with you. Showers with you. Orders breakfast - but when it arrives, he can't stomach a damn thing.

"Hangover," he lies.

"Unlike you," you say. He's never normally one to turn down food, even when he's hungover.

You're still learning about him. Yet to discover that guilt ravages his appetite.

It's a lesson you hadn't expected to be taught so soon, but when he looks up at you from across the kitchen, eyes a little watery and gaze forlorn, you just sort of know.

Can't explain it. Can't articulate it.

Your frown is soft, eyes just as defeated as your shoulders now appear.

"Maybe you should go home," you simply say. You don't want confirmation of your assumption that something happened last night. "I'm sure you've still got lots of studying to do."

Oh God, she knows.

He knows you know. Knows that he can't do anything. Knows that if you don't know, trying to explain himself will only be an admission of guilt. Knows that if you do know, explaining himself won't make anything better. Will likely only make things worse.

"Lots to do," he nods. Doesn't wanna disturb your day any further. Your life. Doesn't wanna keep doing things that will only cause irreparable damage.

So for now he goes home, and causes just temporary damage.

Is on the living room floor with a tube of E6000 glue and a few panels of shattered display case when Jimin arrives home from wherever he stayed the night before.

Tossing his wallet down on the kitchen island, Jimin knows this is a new break. Knows Jeongguk's already fixed up the last one.

"Do we need to sign you up for anger management, or something?" Jimin tries to joke, but it comes out so sternly it seems like he actually means it. Maybe he does. Maybe Jeongguk should. "Two in two weeks must be a record."

"Just need to practise some breathing exercises," Jeongguk says. Has already googled it. Knows he can't keep doing this.

He never has, and never would, lash out at anyone else. It's not anyone else that he's frustrated with. It's himself. Doesn't know how to function with a head like his. That's all.

"I'm worried about you," Jimin eventually says. Knows Jeongguk won't take well to him prying, but knows that he has to express his concern regardless. "Ever since Hayun got back-"

"I know," Jeongguk interrupts, but is soft with his voice. "Trust me. I know. Head's a fucking mess. And then there's Byeol."

Jimin had been looking in the fridge for something to eat, but pauses when Jeongguk mentions you. Still refers to you affectionately. Only ever calls Hayun by her name - not Yun, like he used to. He doesn't interrupt. Knows Jeongguk must wanna talk, and doesn't wanna make him clam up.

"I just... I'm repeating shit. Making the same mistakes. Don't wanna lose her, but am scared that if we stop, like... doing stuff, that she'll get bored. That I'll lose her regardless," he admits. Is embarrassed by his own emotions.

Jimin has seen first hand how much you care. Has fucked you himself, and knows full well that just because sex isn't on table between you with him, it doesn't mean you don't want to be his friend. The idea of sex being the only thing tying you to Jeongguk is abhorrent. Offensive.

But also entirely understandable.

Jeongguk is a product of his past traumas, just like everyone else. He's been hurt, and how he copes with his feelings is a direct result of that.

"She's not Hayun," Jimin says. "Don't lower her to that level."

And then, just because Jeongguk can't hold it in any longer, he splutters out the truth. 

"She kissed me last night." 

It's red. Her nails, her lips, her laugh; the memory of it. Dangerous. Damning. 

"Hayun. She kissed me, and I kissed her back."

He spares the details. Doesn't share how she'd asked to see the courtyard in which she knew Jeongguk had spent the turn of the New Year with you. Doesn't share how she'd sat with him on the bench, looking up to the stars. Doesn't share the questions asked and the answers given.

"Said you think about me sometimes. Were you lying?"

"I'm many things, buddy, but I'm not a liar."

"What... What do you think about? When you think of me?"

He shouldn't have asked. Morbid curiosity got the better of him. He didn't expect her to list specifics. To reference the summer he got his first tattoos and how he'd always fake a little pain afterwards so that she'd kiss him better. To mention the same summer, in his parents house when they'd been away on holiday and he'd been house sitting. How she'd stayed there the entire time with him. How every room, except his parents, now has a memory of her in it.

"Sometimes I think about fucking you," she had said. "But a lot of the time I just think about what it was like to kiss you."

His achilles heel. A weakness. One she knows well.

And for a moment - too tipsy for his own good, too frustrated with the idea of you leaving with someone else, too stubborn to listen to his heart as it told him to stop - he leant into the weakness. Let her lips be reminded of his. Let her hand roam his body. Let his roam hers. Surprised her when he didn't go straight for her ass like he always used to, but went for her chest instead. Pulled away almost immediately - and that's how Hayun now knows that you really are a threat.

"We don't have to stop," she had said.

Jeongguk had shaken his head. "We do."

"We're single. What harm will it do?"

"You really need me to answer that? History not speak for itself?"

Hayun was quiet for a moment. Nodded. Looked down. "It's her, isn't it?"

Just like before, Jeongguk had said, "she has a name."

And, so, just like before, Hayun said, "and yet you knew exactly who I meant."

Jeongguk shakes the memories from his head. Forgets the way she kissed him again. Forgets how he let her. Forgets how her hands were back on his body, and how they got a little over friendly. Also forgets that embarrassment that comes with someone trying to touch your cock, only for it to be soft. Forgets how his brain was screaming chess, chess, chess at him.

"You can't come and blow my life up just as I'm starting to sort it out, Yun," he'd pleaded as he finally walked away. "Don't. Please, don't."

Jimin isn't stupid. He knows there's more than what Jeongguk has told him. Something as simple as a kiss wouldn't result in this, surely.

"And DB found out?"

Jeongguk shakes his head. "No. And then... And then I showed up at her door-"

"Gguk," Jimin sighs, a little disappointed for what he knows is to come.

So Jeongguk just shrugs. Can't defend himself.

"Did you at least tell her?" Jimin asks.

He doesn't need to answer. The guilt is written all over his face. Jimin closes his eyes. Sighs. Tips his head back to heavens, as asks anyone listening why they had to curse him with such an idiot for a best friend.

"What did I say, huh?" Jimin huffs. "Told you not to fuck her until you sorted your head out - not to go and fuck your head up even more and then fuck her again just for the fun of it-"

"Wasn't for the fun of it!" Jeongguk stresses. "Jimin, I- Oh fuck ." He puts down the shards of the display case he's been holding and rubs a palm over his face, pushing his hair back. He looks so fucking defeated, but Jimin thinks it kinda serves him right. "I've gone and fucking done it again."

Jimin doesn't want Jeongguk to clarify what he means by that.

And Jeongguk doesn't really want to admit it.

They both know exactly what Jeongguk's done.

Or more so, what his heart has done.

"Well then stop fucking her!" Jimin almost laughs. "Christ, Gguk. Do you seriously just never learn your lesson?"

"I know," he pouts, letting his body slouch against the sofa. "I know, I know. I didn't mean to. I just... I just wanted to be with her last night. Byeol . I wanted to see her. And I was gonna tell her, but she was already pissed off with me and so I was trying to fix things-"

"You can't fix things with sex ," Jimin shakes his, exasperated.

"Well," Jeongguk considers. "I kinda did."

"Gguk."

"Sorry," he grimaces, knowing that trying to make a joke of it all isn't the correct thing to do."I think she knows. She pretended that she didn't, but I know her, Minnie. Know how she works, how she excuses the bad behaviour of the people she cares about. She knows something happened."

"Then she deserves your honesty at the very least, Jeongguk," Jimin says. "Sooner rather than later."

Jeongguk frowns. Knows Jimin is right. Knows that the damage is already done. His bad choices have been made.

When he tries to study that afternoon, he can't.

When he tries to eat that evening, he can't.

When he tries to sleep at night, he can't.

All he can do is stare at the glitter on his forearm from where your head had been resting the night before.

The stars are hidden by clouds, tonight. Curtains open, the city lights leak into his room. Regretfully, Jeongguk thinks he won't be able to see the stars for a while. Too much cloud. Will take a while to clear.

Yet when he closes his eyes and is consumed by visions of you, it's like his mind is a telescope, and you're a galaxy reserved just for him.

His star girl.

But stars burn out; and Jeongguk doesn't know how much longer he has left.

Phone vibrating beneath his pillow, he almost considers ignoring it - but then hears the faint familiar rustle of paper on his sheets. 

A bird has fallen.

He reaches for his phone. Checks the screen. It's you. There's no real message, just a link to a youtube video. Some ASMR type thing, with a clickbait title. STRESS = 0% !! ULTIMATE REVISION BREAK ASMR TO HELP YOU SLEEP!! (no talking).

He takes the confirmation of you being awake to message you.

JK: are you free tomorrow?

You: why?

JK: don't be difficult, b. just wanna talk to you about something.

You: it can wait. no heavy talks until after your exam, okay?

It only confirms to him that you know . You have to. Wouldn't reply like that if you didn't. Doesn't make him feel any better.

JK: a bird fell, too.

You: it can wait, too.

JK: are you sure?

You: positive.

He almost locks his phone.

Tries his luck, instead.

JK: sunday, tomorrow

You: at least we know you'll pass your exam if they ask you about days of the week

JK: will you still come round?

He locks his phone, now. Doesn't wanna see your answer.

Doesn't get one.

You leave him on read.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[deblklesb]

Maybe reader goes into a full autistic/neurodivergent shutdown and Abby helps reader?

(disclaimer: I'll describe it based on my personal experience with shutdowns and also on what I've seen some people sharing. not all autistic people have the same experience, please keep that in mind)

i just KNOW abby would be so so supportive and caring with you!

like depending on the au she could have more or less knowledge about autism, i think doctor!abby could have more experience after appointments with autistic patients and etc. (she went out of her way to learn more in order to create a better experience to them), but either way would first and foremost ask you in simple questions about what you need, as in presenting options for you that doesn't need too much to think about.

"Want me to stay with you?"

"Hey, I brought water for you, babe. I'll leave the bottle in the bedside table"

"You need to eat, bun. I'll bring something for you okay?"

She'll get your favorite food. And if there's none in the house (most of the times you don't run out of your comfort food, but anything can happen) she calls for some delivery - she's not leaving you the first times because she doesn't know what you might need.

The lights bother you even more in shutdowns, so she'll have just one light on in the house, maybe the bathroom because it's central, or the kitchen because it's farther from your room. Sometimes you like to watch your favorite show or favorite movie on and on, so she tries not to interrupt.

There are times when you specifically ask her to stay with you, and so she does. If working next to you it's okay, she can lay down by your side and do some, just the very necessary, before giving you her undivided attention. At this point she also knows some lines of the movies, and so she repeats them along and laughs with you.

Abby is a-okay with being your personal weight blanket. Sometimes you just need her to lay on top of you, between your legs, and she stays there happily. You love how warm she is, and that she lets you stim caressing her skin and making braids on her hair over and over.

Once you got months without a shutdown, so when it came it made you so frustrated and nervous. Abby got home to find you laying on the floor due to the very hot day, face swollen with tear trails, only panties on your body; your skin was directly in contact with the cold ground as you looked at the TV.

"Hey, babe", she said, putting the keys on the table. When you didn't answer, she left her bag at the corridor and took out the shoes, coming closer. She crouched next to you, noticing how you weren't looking at her. "Bun? Are you okay?"

You just shook your head, still looking at the TV. Silent, you pulled your phone closer and wrote on the notes app.

The day was shit. it's too hot so i was sweating all the time and I'm already feeling like crap. my boss was so fucking stupid, he doesn't know how to maintain a good work place and just acts like all ableism is just jokes between co-workers when i distinctively told him it's affecting my job. I can't punch that motherfucker of coworker in the face because i would be fired and i need the job. and on top of all of that, traffic was hell, people kept honking all the time up and down, the chatting in the bus sounded louder than usual and i think my body doesn't want to stay together anymore because of this godforsaken heat.

Her blue eyes, bathed by the cool LED of the TV, wandered around the screen as she read you rant. And then she was seating there, not too close but enough for you to feel her presence.

"I'm so so sorry, bun", she whispered, not touching you. Your feet were brushing against each other, since the sensation soothed you, and the open window let the smallest wind come inside the apartment. "Have you eaten?"

I haven't been able to get up after i showered

"Okay. I'll go take a shower myself and then I'll make us something to eat, alright?"

She was next to you all the time that night. She didn't ask you nothing the whole time, just putting the food for you and then sitting there on the floor so you could eat together. Abby didn't come too close because she knew the temperature wasn't ideal and you both didn't had the money to get an air-conditioning yet, she just stated that you could come to her when you felt comfortable to do so and offered her hand to be held in the mean time.

After an impossible to count amount of time, you rested your head on her thigh, still quiet and watching the cartoon.

"Oh my God, Dooffenschmirtz' building looks so much like Ferb. Like, the shape... I never noticed that before", she muttered more to herself, but the fact brought a chuckle out of you. And as simple as it was, it made her chest a little bit warmer; to see you slowly relaxing and regulating.

"Do you want to sleep on our bed or here on the living room, babe?" She asked after a long time, because it was getting late and soon you'd have to sleep.

The living room was cooler than your room, and the mattress could be so hot during the night you'd wake up all sweaty and sticky - if the heat during the day was painful, waking up on drenched sheets would make you so so much worst. And you had that traveling mattress, you could put it on the floor and stay there for the rest of the night, next to the living room window.

"I can stay on the couch so you won't be alone", she added.

I guess I'll sleep here. We can fix the area to be more comfortable. I'll help you.

You stood slowly and the place was soon being organized to better accommodate you both. She got some pillows and thin sheets, you padded the simple mattress and covered the couch with a duvet to make it more comfortable for Abby.

That night she slept with her hand between yours, and you felt so grateful for having someone that would be with you through those times. You kept caressing her hand with your thumb because the stim was soothing you, untill you fell asleep with some cool wind coming from the restless city night.

[ilikekidsshows]

About you being harassed by Marinette fans. I don't know if me doing this is weird, but you being open bout that makes me want to open up more too. I've send you 4 anons by now (u probably could already tell they were from one person) because I don't have a miraculous Blog anymore since the hiatus before Destruction because Marinette fans found one of my posts criticizing Marinette's treatment of Cat Noir and her leadership and they went after me for i think almost an entire week. I ended up deleting my blog in panic and fear of it getting worse the more traffic it got amongst Mari stans.

I followed the show and Fandom til now from afar to see if any of my Marinette problems were getting the fixes everyone screamed about season 5 would deliver but I can't say that happened. I wholeheartedly agree that with alot of other people that it only got worse with the doubling down and her gettin less heroic underneath the surface.

So I'm still here and upset that I was bullied out of this fandom for things I was apparently right about to degrees I didn't even knew back then how right I'd end up being....

I found a couple of blogs to follow that share my opinions and you guys have been interwoven alot now so I thought sending anons to dip my toe back into being part of the discourse is a good idea. I hope I didn't cause any Mari stans getting angry at you for it, I've been worried bout that ngl.

I would like to ask bout one of the topics Marinette fans cyberbullied me for but I still think I'm right for questioning:

How much value does Marinette see in being friends with her love interests?

Oc im not doubting that she sees at least some worth in it, but it feels very shallow. Fandom is working the lion's share to take what little canon gives and run with it til they think their fanon is real.

Marinette values friendship, sure, but Zoe is the only love interest of hers for whom that feels right to say

Marinette in Canon has said many times that for her being friends with the one she loves is the worst thing she could possibly imagine. E. g. Psycomedian. And she was rewarded with Adrien being her devoted and desperate prince for her doing probably the most friendship related thing she did in all season 4. She had a basic little convo with him about understanding to have problems and that's where it ended. Where did Marinette ever even try to be rlly Adrien's friend? She said 500x that she's finally gonna put her romance feelings aside for a bit to focus on her job (which I hoped would mean she'd work on her weaknesses in the platonic Ladynoir team dynamic too... Silly me... )

But that never goes anywhere? Weren't Adrien and Kagami the ones literally having been created out of the feeling love or to love someone in particular and even THEY could overwrite their senti programming better than Marinette ever could get over her normal ass feelings for a week? Adrien and Kagami value the friendship with the one they love deeply, is that the difference? That Marinette can't ever move one from loving someone because friendship feels like an awful downgrade and torture to her so she stays the same? What does that say bout her?

Or that Luka and Cat Noir never caused her stalker paranoia to break out that Derision claims she does to protect herself. Why does it only apply to Adrien? And not even Cat Noir, too? In my other anons I brought up how awful I think it is that Marinette seemingly has no interest in leaning anything rlly about the boy underneath Cat Noir's mask, now she barely acts like she remembers that he's real and that they'll one day reveal where he'll then find out how many times she deliberately deceived him with her civilian identity in very hurtful ways.

How does that correspond to her being in love and more important for my question, what does that level of refusal to treat someone like a real person say about her willingness to be Cat's friend? Cause I can't see friendship in Ladynoir anymore. Marinette was the one who killed that in season 4 and then season 5 didn't improve her in much. Friends don't treat each other the way Marinette so easily uses, hurts ignores, silences and deceives Cat Noir without batting an eye.

The only effort she really made was before Kwamis choice. When she thought he was still in love with her and expected that s4 magically caused no damage to his feelings for her. she seemingly thought she could just allow him to dedicate himself to her for an overall easy way to sweep everything under the rug and make him "happy" again without her ever having to really try and do better herself because that was the comfort she was seeking at that time (shoutout to Familyagrestefanblog and erisluna35. I've been paraphrasing them alot and wanted mention that too. Didn't get to write out my own opinion in a while and I agree with them x})

This refusal to face her hurtful actions of s4 quickly developed into her craving for him to give her his easy love and not wanting to take anything less than precisely the endless devotion she wanted from him now. No matter what the price. No matter how much it put him too in danger (what even meant Cat Blanc?), and yet, still no interest in him as a person.

Once she had to take the no, she left and then she never again made a genuine effort in Ladynoir. Any effort to better herself was romance related. Determination may have been the episode where she rlly noticed her changed feelings for him, but she did try earlier than that. But it fully stopped with his no as did her changed feelings vanish as quickly as they showed up. So what does that say about her and how she views their "friendship"?

Season 4 has her already show that she doesn't want Ladynoir to be an actual friendship since she treats him barely better than a magical pet she rarely ever thinks about, which caught her off guard over and over that she isn't being the kindest and adoring person of all time to him. She treats him so much worse than her actual friends and in s5 she isn't trying to build a real connection beyond wanting him to shower her in his devotion and love.

What season 5 shows bout Marinette's view of the Ladynoir friendship is in my most generous reading her not getting to hide behind any romantic feelings from either side that she doesn't know how to be his friend, after she had to learn in season 4 that she was a really really bad one. But even with that generous reading, it would still mean that Marinette then went on prioritizing not having to feel any further discomfort or having to owe up for her actual mistakes in their bond over her finally being the friend she SHOULD think Cat Noir deserves. A friend he desperately needed but never got cause she called it a day with her personal needs being met my having her best friend Alya with her.

Friends don't do that. Marinette denied him any genuine friendship he obviously truly needed as Cat Noir because she personally didn't need it from him anymore cause of Alya. And he rejected her desire to now be adored by him so there was no purpose left anymore for him to fulfill in her life besides the easy partner she made clear cant ask shit from her.

That is so unbelievably selfish... How on earth is that supposed to be FRIENDSHIP?

Srry, for this being long. Last point.

Luka of course needs to be mentioned too. Sure, the show says they are friends. But are they really? Their friendship is built on him being her platonic therapist back-up boyfriend who doesn't ask shit of her either. This is still the same pattern as with Catrien. Luka does all the emotional labor and Marinette just takes and takes and that's what makes her so comfortable around him but she isn't interested in him either beyond what she sees day to day in front of her.

That doesn't count as friendship in my book. For Adrigami you can still feel their friendship after their breakup. But Lukanette is Luka being a platonic therapist boyfriend and Marinette being just as disinterested in him as with Cat Noir while being just as comfortable getting showered in emotional labor that she's unwilling to work on giving back the way she should.

How is that friendship? What value has friendship for Marinette once any romantic feelings are involved from either side and it isn't Zoé (feels like a homophobic backhanded compliment lmao)

That was very long, I apologize. But thanks to writing in anon I started becoming more comfortable with the idea of joining the Fandom discourse again. I've got alot I wanna say after all that time in silence but I'm not sure yet if I should put myself out there again with a blog. With how season 5 ended Marinette stans are gonna be vicious beasts to any criticism they come across and I don't want that to happen again :(

---

I hope this isn't a case of speak of the devil and he shall appear but lately things have been really quiet on the Marinette stan front. The worst I’ve gotten was this really unhinged one, but they were so unpleasant they didn't have any friends so the harassment was very one-note and stopped pretty quickly since they had to run it alone. It could be that now that season 5 confirmed that season 4 wasn't an outlier, that the show’s writing has gotten incredibly sloppy and nasty, the critical side of the fandom has become unified and we add to each other’s posts and kind of back each other up. It's harder for Marinette stans to target us one by one, and their preferred tactic is dogpiling a single blog. A lot of the Marinette stans protesting my posts now shut up right quick when they see more people agreeing with me adding to the reblog chain.

As for the question, I agree with your assessment. It really does appear that Marinette hates the idea of being friends with a love interest. She whined about Adrien seeing her as just a friend all the way back in Riposte. Adrien sung her praises to Kagami, while she spied on them, and she had the gall to whine that the boy she “loves” thinks so highly of her because it wasn't the kind of thinking she wanted.

There was this one thing I said in a previous post that I think is accurate: Marinette part-times being Cat Noir's friend. Even the part of time she acts as his friend, she ignores his feelings, insults him, pushes him away, refuses to give him emotional support in any way and lies to him about anything she possibly can. She only approaches him as Marinette when she wants to complain about Adrien not coming to the date he didn't know was a date, when she thinks she can score a date with him or so that she can practice confessing to Adrien on him. Marinette's “friendship” with Cat Noir is all take with no give when she isn't outright ignoring his existence.

She also ignores boys who have feelings for her in her civilian life. Nathaniel is very suspicious of her in Reverser, having to be convinced that she wasn't planning to humiliate him, implying he isn't part of her friend group since he doesn't know her well enough to know she only humiliates people when they're in her way of getting at Adrien. (Alix makes it sound like she wouldn't do that period, but we know the truth by now.) She also refused to come to Juleka and Luka's shared birthday party if Luka was present after they broke up. I bet if you tried to tell Marinette, or her writers, that your romantic partner should also be your best friend to make a healthy relationship, they just wouldn't compute. 

I don't want to say Marinette doesn't hold friendship in high regard period, because the amount of exceptions she makes for Alya shows that she at least values Alya’s friendship. I think she just doesn't value friendship with boys. I feel like Marinette is the kind of person who doesn't think boys and girls can really be friends, which would explain why she thinks Adrien considering her a friend is worse than anything else. If boys can't really be friends with girls, Adrien using the word “friends” means they aren't even that.

Consider this: how often does Marinette hang out with her guy classmates when it isn't 1) a whole-class outing or 2) more likely that Marinette just wanted to hang out with his girlfriend? Like, in Animan, Marinette had no idea Nino had a crush on her, but she still acted like an outing with him at the zoo was the worst thing ever. I get that she was disappointed Adrien wasn't there, but Nino is one of Marinette’s oldest classmates, yet she doesn't want to spend time with him, unless she's planning to use him to get closer to Adrien, since he's Adrien’s best friend.

Of course, she doesn't really value the time with her other friends for its own sake outside of Alya either. It seems like the only times they hang out together is to plot or participate in her get Adrien quick schemes. The only times the girls do something not Marinette related is when Marinette hasn't called them together, like when they were going to the pool in Gorizilla, something Marinette completely forgot until Alya called her. Marinette has poor memory but, despite her knowing she has poor memory, she apparently gave herself no reminder to hang out with her friends. You bet I write down every occasion I’ve agreed to see my friends specifically because I have bad memory as well.

It seems like, unless you're Alya, Marinette only cares about you for how able and willing you are to help her catch Adrien's attention. I keep saying Marinette treats her Adrien romancing problems as the most important thing going on at any given moment, and it's true for all areas of her life. Maybe that's the reason we didn't see Socqueline for four seasons despite her supposedly being such an important friend to Marinette, and why she never joined the friend group proper; Socqueline couldn't help her get with Adrien so she wasn't worth Marinette’s time.

This is a yet another thing where Miraculous is actually pretty sexist; girls and boys can't ever just be friends and girls care more about getting guys than they do about their friends. Another thing of course is this idea that boys just don't have as in-depth feelings as girls or should bury their feelings and never ask for emotional support, which is why all of Marinette's love interests are her emotional support dispensers whose opinions on anything don’t matter when their job is to simply mindlessly worship Marinette while their feelings are devalued by the narrative every time they dare to try to ask Marinette for some support back. Luka gets Akumatized which convinces him to break up with Marinette when he had emotional needs she wasn't willing to fulfill. Meanwhile Adrien goes through the travesty that is Kuro Neko

“Power of love always so strong” but only when it's Marinette's toxic idea of love and when it isn't platonic love. Unless you're Alya, I guess.

[cassberry]

(Looking to watch 3rd Life, Last Life or Double Life? Here you go!)

If you are looking for a guide of some Limited Life episodes to catch up on for no particular reason at all (certainly not a new season being around the corner), I've got you covered!

Now I'm not going to lie, trying to curate this list for Limited Life broke me. The mechanics of this season meant that you gained time by killing other players and in doing so it felt like 50 things were happening all at once constantly across the server. As such I haven't been able to get absolutely everything onto this list, but I did try my best to get all the important events and a wide range of perspectives!

WARNING: Incredibly long read more where I go over why I picked certain POV's and what to expect. I do so love to ramble. Spoilers ahead!

SESSION ONE

Skizz - Breaking from tradition from recommending Grian first because you need to watch Skizz's POV first out of everyone unspoiled. The way things unraveled this episode felt like a sitcom in the best and worst ways lol 

Grian - Just a good solid first episode honestly and with the start of the Bad Boys™ how can you not love it. 

Scar -  I really have no words for whatever is the dynamic of the Clockers because you really just have to see it to understand. It’s a fun episode and as Scar, Cleo and Bdubs have set up near spawn, you always get to see something interesting. 

Big B - Big B’s episodes are always a treat as he does super long ones that give you a little more insight into what's happening on the server, rather than just the big events. But if you wanted something specific to watch, his last 10 minutes of this episode were a blast. 

SESSION TWO

Joel - Bad Boys Bread Bridge was both the most amazing and ugliest build on the server and I’m so glad it was made. Also Joel gets some amazing kills this episode that are so tense to watch. 

Martyn - Look this one is here because of a little personal bias. Martyn shouts me out in the episode so I couldn’t not add it lol It’s also a very good episode in of itself in that it introduces the Mean Gills and I’ll always be a Mean Gills supporter. Also that Tilly roast? oof 

Pearl - Pearl is constantly on the move this episode and living up to her Nosy Neighbour title so watch her episode if you want some good gossip and to see the lay of the land. 

Tango - Tango always delivers a solid episode and as he was building the TIES Tower a majority of the time he receives a lot of foot traffic through the area creating some fun interactions. 

SESSION THREE

Scar - And in this episode of Limited Life, Scar rediscovers the joys of minecart TNT. 

Impulse - Impulse is such a fun boogey to watch, and the way he edited this episode around his thought process of who to kill was great. 

Grian - Kind of a different episode this session as Grian was sick so he was afk the entire time. It was very very very funny to watch, but as he wasn’t interacting with anyone you’re going to miss a lot of context if you only watch his POV. You should still give this a watch though! 

Joel - Watching poor Joel run around after Grian trying to keep him safe was incredibly entertaining lmao 

SESSION FOUR

Scott - I believe Grian said it best, but this session felt like a final session with the way the yellows were chasing after the greens. It was pure chaos the entire time and Scott beautifully evading them all until his descent into yellow was perfection. 

Tango - Tango is here for the same reason as Scott but as the last green the final hunt for him was terrifying to watch. 

Cleo - I love Cleo’s episodes and this one was just a joy. She was slightly sick this week but I feel like that only lowered her inhibitions to do some out of pocket stuff. 

Jimmy - The exciting saga of Judge Judy and Executioner continues in Jimmy’s episode this week and if you didn’t know anything about it, that's ok! Neither did anyone else on the server except for Jimmy, Pearl and Big B lmao consider this the best episode to watch if you want this plotline covered. 

SESSION FIVE 

Etho - Considering the episode starts off with Etho having to babysit Bdubs, then an awkward family dinner and an explosive game of catch, I really couldn’t have asked for a better Etho video. 

Big B - This session was a lot more calm than the previous, so there was a lot more alliance talk happening. Big B has a great perspective on all that as he and Pearl get up to a tonne of mischief that causes some problems with some alliances they already had. 

Scott - Once again this was an alliance building week and Scott’s episode really highlights some of the more fun things that happened to make and break some relationships. 

Grian - Poor Bread Bridge o7 you will be missed. Thankfully M-Rye 5 was there at the end to rain chaos from above. (<-sentences that make no sense out of context) 

SESSION SIX 

Cleo & Pearl - I couldn’t choose between either of these two this session. Both Cleo and Pearl were out sick so they handed over their accounts to two other players. I won’t spoil who they are but these episodes were amazing. 

Jimmy - The Bad Boys were going through it this week goddamn lol It never stops being funny how much of a mess everything becomes when they get together. 

Martyn - It was his birthday this session and he’s just a little guy! Surely nothing would go wrong at his birthday party? And certainly not caused by him! 

Tango - The last half of Tango’s episode is just a comical amount of deaths that only get funnier and funnier as the time between them shortens. 

SESSION SEVEN

Skizz - Oh Skizz. You are too good for this world. His ending for this episode was heartbreaking and Affirmation Station will live on in my heart forever.

Scott - I love watching Scott run around the map and hunt people down because he is so good at the game! I believe he had the highest kill count this session and I loved every minute of it. 

Joel - (Major Spoilers) Ah Joel it just wasn’t meant to be! But hearing the desperation in his voice grow higher and higher as the clock ticked down was nail biting. Scar - Just a good Scar episode honestly! Shows what the Clockers are up to during all the chaos and a great view of the server devolving into anarchy.

SESSION EIGHT 

Martyn - WOOOO YESSSS LETS GOOOOOO (<- does that count as spoilers???)

I distinctly remember being on the edge of my seat this whole episode and Martyn delivers in every way possible for a fantastic final episode of the season. 

Impulse - I haven’t mentioned it yet but Impulse’s editing this season went wild and it's none more apparent than in this episode. He and his team went crazy for the finale. 

Etho - Such a fun episode!! The twist at the end with the diamond sword coming into play was everything I could have wanted and more. 

Pearl - It was really a toss up between Pearl and Scott for this last spot, but I loved her perspective for the one last minigame on the server. 

BONUS 

Bdubs - Do you have a spare 12 hours to dedicate to Limited Life? Then oh boy does Bdubs have a video for you! Instead of weekly videos he decided to collate all his episodes into one mammoth video which was an absolute blast to watch over a weekend! It’s a really interesting POV to watch because when LimLife was airing Bdubs would just appear all over the map and we never had any idea what he was doing so it was awesome to have some concrete evidence of his shenanigans. Definitely give this one a watch if you’re in the mood for a marathon! 

IN SUMMARY…

I swear if the next season is as messy as this one, I think I’m going to have to start taking notes when it's airing because I think this took years off my life haha if you think I’ve missed anything please tag it because I would love to see it! I definitely could have added more POV’s per session like I did with the Last Life and 3rd Life guides, but I think a more curated list helps keep down the overwhelming nature of trying to watch a million Limited Life episodes. 

But really, I loved watching Limited Life live so I’m glad I give myself an excuse each new season to go back and watch the season over again. There are so many little foreshadowed moments that you don’t see on the first watch and honestly it all just makes me more excited for the new season! Thanks for reading <3

[phightinghottakes]

I might have ranted about this before but I can't find my old anon tag nor my old posts so. 🐊 anon from now on for whatever else I need to rant abt on here.

this is all mostly me ranting about forced inclusivity and queer stuff (coming from a poly, pan person) so if you need to skip over this, you've been warned

Firstly, I absolutely despise Vinedeeri. It feels like it only exists because "uhh woman and woman haha they're the few woman characters in the game lets ship them because yuri" SHUT UP!! Ships used to have an interesting dynamic, they used to have substance and angst and fluff in every fandom I was in, all the ships I used to see were because they were so interesting and created so many different scenarios.

Instead, what I see most of in the phighting community and similar fandoms is "toxic yuri/yaoi!" "I love my yaoi" "gay ppl" and whatnot. Can people not ship things that aren't queer anymore? Can people not ship things for a dynamic instead of for sexuality?

It genuinely baffles me that Trafficdeeri is considered a rarepair. Don't they literally have interactions in canon?? Isn't Lightblox like an adopted daughter to Traffic?? And yet most of the fandom prefers "haha yuri woman x woman" over good content for a wholesome narrative on found family and adoption and whatnot.

Also I prefer Hyperzuka over Hypertana. I've had several people look at me weird for this one and I genuinely still feel a bit uncomfortable saying I ship the two because of that because it was the kind of reaction being a proshipper gives you, but as far as I'm aware they're fine to ship? Feel free to correct me on if there's anything I'm missing, but I just find the kind of "alcoholic mess x previous alcoholic mess" dynamic more compelling than "alcoholic mess with issues x alcoholic mess with issues" regardless of whether it's being interpreted as platonic or romantic.

Also also, I don't like Scythe being made POC. I find making a character black for inclusivity kind of silly, but even moreso insulting when it's, oh, you know, one of the only characters with a different skintone?? What, is being tan not "inclusive" enough? Did it not appeal to the fandom enough? Was having a character that was tan in a way that'd fit the canon not good enough? I dislike race swapping in general, but it's just. So much more irritating when it's taking away the only tan character the game had. ffs real inclusivity should live up to it's name, it should be inclusive not "appealing to the minority" it should be inclusive for everyone. The minority that needs it, the minority that's harassed, the minority that barely speaks up about it. Not just one group. Please. God. also she's a serial killer that's kind of an issue too liike. out of all the characters you had to pick 1: the serial killer and 2: the only playable character with a different skintone

I would also like to say I absolutely hate she/her subspace. I genuinely do not get why someone would look at an insane scientist that'd probably laugh at torturing people and go "Aww, she's so quirky" or whatever. It genuinely confuses me beyond belief how she/her subspace is such a widely accepted headcanon. What part of probably-capitalist mad scientist that invented hundreds of machines made for war and ruthless killing says "girlypop twink" to you??

And lastly, this game has boring characters when it tries to make them interesting, ironically enough. Some of the most interesting characters to me (outside of subspace) are Vine Staff and Shuriken just because of how many different angles you could take with the core of their character and how... Fundamentally simple they are. They're siblings, they have a clear theme, they're kind of angst-free characters outside of Vine's curse, and they have a strong bond. It's not a lot, but it's all that you need for a lot of interesting content. On the contrary, take Broker and Scythe- two relatively safe picks to hate on. They're part of a cult, Scythe is a serial killer, Broker has some sorts of phone imagery as far as I'm aware, and the cult has something something eyes something I genuinely can't remember. It's kind of more? It's meant to be more, at least. And yet I can't figure out anything interesting about this other than Broker's theme with phones that's kind of neat but the lore does nothing with that. And the eye stuff.. well, yeah, it has potential but it's just so, so underdeveloped. In trying to make the cult so much more it's ended up with so many concepts and so few that are actually solid, in comparison to characters that are simpler. Hell, look at Boombox! He's also a pretty simple character, but he's easy to enjoy too. And there's also the whole thing with him being able to tell something's up with Subspace. Maybe I just read into details a lot, but oh well.

In case you couldn't tell, I like healthy characters who's strength is small fun facts and details.

-Sincerely, 🐊 Anon.

.

[thelovelybitten]

random loonatics unleashed hcs bc I like childhood comfort show binging

only elites watched loonatics unleashed—so for the ATOM SIZED community who still gaf abt this gem here’s some random hcs I thought of

ACE BUNNY

[+] confident, determined, loving

[-] stubborn, cynical, impulsive

since he’s like. the most heroic MF known to acmetropolis, overconfidence is his thing. sometimes it goes too far and people have to smack some sense into him (lexi & tech, most likely) and y’all thought duck was cocky… ace is cocky and smart vs duck is cocky and dumb.

i imagine he has some sort of cooling eye drops he puts in after battles or over usage of his laser vision.

may wear glasses if needed.

he defo has underlying anxiety about his leader position since he’s basically in charge of the universe and his teammates he considers his family. (he confides in lexi with this eventually)

on a similar note, since he feels the pressure of being the leader, he suppresses his emotions all the time until lexi finds out and they teach each other to heal :’)))))

as much as he and duck annoy the fuck out of each other, they complement each other in the sense that ace needs comedic relief and duck supplies it (bratty ass little brother things)

anime STANNNN. anything that’s got good lore—He and Tech love sword art online. they hook in rev and slam in the second season. he and slam like attack on titan FOR SURE.

duck gives ace social media tips (because ace loves the attention but doesn’t know SHIT ABT creating a following)

japanese culture fascinates him, so he implements traditions and holidays into the loonatics' activities.

stubborn as fuck, it’s his way or the highway. since zadavia has always put him in charge, it's hard for him not to boss people around when he's unable to help. (as seen in s1 ep6)

since in the show it’s hinted all the loonatics are in university, I have ace being the second oldest child. he’s a natural-born leader, but still can’t take certain things seriously. tech is a good influence on him.

LEXI BUNNY

[+] sweet, empathetic, fiesty

[-] emotional, hot-headed, judgemental

she wears noise-cancelling headphones all the time if not needed by others. the absolute peace and quiet she needs to stay sane, tbh

the amount of radio traffic and minds around her causes headaches and migraines—but also some paranoia and slight insanity since she can’t take all of these mind voices all at once. she receives medicine after years of putting it off/testing due to her super powered dna

^^ tech is the one who finds her crying and screaming and he takes care of her until she tells everyone else.

also to touch on that, tech creates wrist bands that lexi can put on. they are supposed to cancel any brain waves or mind reading for a certain amount of time (but not forever, as she is super powered and it’s still a wip for him). (she also needs her powers to protect planet blanc)

actually hates carrots of any sort (minus carrot cake, she would die w/o it) ace thinks she’s crazy.

“can you read this person’s mind” is her biggest gripe and she hates when anyone asks her to do so

due to her upbringing, she hates mean girls and anyone who isn’t a girls girl gets to have a not so nice convo with her.

she’s very social savvy and is always in the newest trends, she hates how self conscious she is but funnily enough she and duck relate to one another and do have shopping sprees and Amazon hauls for therapy 😭

she’d like tiktok but rarely post lol, and when she does her social media pops off

feminist. "oh girls can't be heroes" "girls shouldn't be doing a man's job" SHUT UR TRAP. she will prove u wrong in 1000 different ways.

most popular of the loonatics—she’s the only female.

her age hc I have is she’s third oldest. which kinda leans into my duck/lexi hcs but that’s in another post

TECH E COYOTE

[+] intelligent, punctual, organized

[-] uptight, perfectionist, egotistical

perfectionist syndrome we LOVE HER

he’s so father type (big brother to all of the loonatics, everyone relies on him imo) Ace is the leader, but Tech is the dad 🤪

since he and mallory (mastermind’s) huge falling out, he has a people pleasing complex. this is because he feels guilty about putting her in jail as she is his protégée but knowing what he did was for the best makes him uneasy. so not only does everything have to be perfect, he has a hard time saying no to prevent conflict.

that being said, when it comes to danger and safety he’s gonna put his foot down.

he absolutely loves tinkering with rev. the two of them share one braincell, though. call them thing one and thing two. they’re smart. but not together 😅

while tech likes…well…technology, I feel like he’d also like forensics too. And watching crime shows with Ace and Rev.

he also has a bit of an ego. mostly bc he’s the creator and manager of all the technology in blanc. (And the universe, maybe. at least blanc and acmetropolis.)

has some sort of side gig going on for sponsorships. i hc that he loves to help create new technology, but he'd also like to provide said ideas to companies, kingdoms, etc. usually has the loonatics branding on it.

when his powers upgraded, he had a bit of trouble controlling it to the point where their new HQ had electrical issues for a month. yay metal but also oopsies I can create electrical currents and it’s a lot

the idea of him being immortal due to his regeneration abilities scares him because his friends will eventually die off and he will remain on his own :( (if i had to think about this, so do u.)

very protective of his stuff, and his family. this is not debatable.

he tries to hide itttt but he loves kids. he likes to surprise them with things he makes and teaches them how to build objects (with lego, of course. ain't no way is he letting any cheeto-dusted fingers come in contact with his shit.)

he’s the oldest loonatic NO QUESTION.

REV RUNNER

[+] energetic, comedic, caring

[-] oblivious, childish, sporadic

he’s so baby boy. a child. I love him so.

adhd brain on TOP

fears rejection, but works on it with lexi helping him out

I think he’d also play league with lexi and ace.

he loves running around fast, obviously but he also likes to stop and enjoy views when he can. (Defo uses the wormholes to escape to sunny places.)

definitely has lists to keep himself organized (and slam, which he is blessed for)

likes mechanical machinery and modifications (hates detailing though, fuck that)

recites the entire bee movie script to tech to annoy him

relies on zadavia for advice frequently. she’s a mother to him and she gives him hugs :))))

knows the best spots in the universe for anything ever, (thanks internal gps)

may the lord bless him bc he loves his brother so so so much that he'd do anything for him. rip is always welcome at hq and they play games/invent shit together :)

would pull pranks on all of the loonatics and he’d get away with it (but duck sees right through him—helps him anyways) since it's shown in season 1, episode 6 that ace and rev like to watch sports/attend games, they'd love other ones that are hockey, basketball and football-oriented. (since this is the future and all, the sport they play in this episode is based on soccer anyway) duck is also part of this too.

the metabolism popped off this man can EAT. since he's already burning it off. He's unlike slam though—he eats at a regular speed due to conversation-making.

youngest loonatic.

SLAM TASMANIAN

[+] strong, resilient, comforting

[+] aggressive, uncontrolled, moody

has a hard time with expressing himself due to the language barrier b/w him and the civilians.

good news tho, rev and duck help him to learn english :DDD they get him to read a ton of things (rev with different books while duck just shows him magazines with him as the street model LMFAO, also trends and stuff.)

has an action figure collection that if touched, a tornado will destroy your room. (he had them before the meteor hit, as a coping mechanism from all the fighting he did)

obvi fave food is pizza, specifically meat lovers

gets into origami to control his mind. lexi loves doing this w him :)

tech and slam love to do weapon tests together bc slam is BEEFY and withstands more injury than people think.

ace and slam train together the most. it helps both of them with tiny/large targets.

desperately wants a cat, a kitten, something cat related… but ace says no all the time bc it serves “as a distraction” from their job (ace is delulu ignore him)

a chef. amazing in the kitchen. cooks all the food for the house. a WHOLESOME MAN. watches the food network LMAO

gives the best hugs.

VERY BROTHER BEAR VIBES, he'll tell someone straight up to NOT FUCK W HIS FAMILY. just DON'T.

third youngest loonatic but acts older

DANGER DUCK

[+] loyal, self-aware, amusing

[-] arrogant, overbearing, hypocritical

u know this man is one of the ✨g w o r l s ✨

he attends drag shows with rev and lexi (DID I STUTTER ??? I think not.)

he doesn’t give a FUCK this man will do what he wants, when he wants, for as long as he wants. (until ace or zadavia gives him shit, whoever comes first) attention-seeker, but rightfully so as he is very much overshadowed by all of his teammates, when in reality he is the strongest and most deadly loonatic. i mean think abt it. he has three powers. the most out of all the loonatics. ace has laser vision. lexi has telepathy. tech can manipulate metallic objects and regenerate. rev has super speed and is a human gps. slam can create storms/tornados. DUCK HAS THE POWER TO CREATE HOT LAVA ORBS (EGGS), MANIPULATE WATER, AND TELEPORT. u see the vision???

it also doesn't help when zadavia is always shitting on him for his character. in her defense, he is a superhero and should be a good influence and in a professional manner, when in his defense, he should at least be praised and acknowledged for the work he puts in...js.

TAKES HIS TRAINING SERIOUSLY EVEN IF HE USES IT AS A VIDEO GAME SIM— HE'S ON IT IN SECONDS.

he does get a bit depressed abt the whole overshadowing thing sometimes. but he's so cocky that he hypes himself up and forgets it ever happened.

HIS APPEARANCE IS EVERYTHING TO HIM, which is why he and lexi hang out a lot when lexi is in need of a break. THEY LOVE THE SALON.

he helps the men eventually with tinder profiles so they can get out there and find romance and shit (but not lexi, since she knows she can get whoever she wants) he's pretty successful at it too.

BOARD GAME CHAMPION. BACK-TO-BACK MAY I ADD. Slam hates it bc he almost clutches the win but duck suddenly has a trick up his sleeve then BAAM. winner winner pizza dinner. his favourite board game is monopoly. (for obvious reasons, mans' needs to be able to manage his money for future investments.)

if he could be on a version of america's next top model, he would.

might be a sarcastic asshole, but does deeply care about his family, and other beings for that matter ( I mean, s2 ep12 ANYONE ??) tweetums was his everything that WAS HIS SON.

trolls people on club penguin with rev, don't ask, I just know.

blogger typa beat. is the social media editor and influencer for the team.

second youngest, but acts like the youngest LMAO

aaaaand that's it for now, i will make separate hc posts for pairings (platonic and romantic) and obvs the loonatics in general, so stay tuned. :)

if u read this far u THE GOAT >:D

[princess-of-the-corner]

Princess Bee

K, couple thoughts, my devices are being weird, so even though I sent an ask, I’m going to compile a few things here, just in case

1) On Artemis being the Fox, possible lore for a name - the Teumessian fox was an uncatchable fox from Greek Myth, sent to hassle the city of Thebes as a punishment. Eventually, when the gods felt the city had suffered enough, they ran into the problem that they had created a LITERALLY UNCATCHABLE CREATURE, so they couldn’t really get the fox to stop. So, they sent in a dog, called Laelaps, who was enchanted to be able to always catch her prey, to catch the fox. The two were basically a paradox, and eventually got put into the sky as constellations (Canis Major [the dog] and Canis Minor [the fox]).

2) I headcanon that the reason the SentiKids are Sapient is in part due to the fact they are “hybrids”. They aren’t “pure” Sentimonsters, the Parents used the Peacock to basically “fertilize” an egg and make a fetus. So while TECHNICALLY a Sentimonster, it’s a little closer to, say, how Steven Universe is technically a gem. And similarly, if Steven’s Gen is damaged, he gets hurt. Like, if the Amoks got broken before … whatever they do to severe the connection, the SentiKids would be hurt pretty badly. They MIGHT be able to do something to manage survival, but the Amoks are still connected to their life force. (I hope this is making sense?) Does any of this sound … like it fits, I guess?

3) OC Chester description, so you hopefully don’t have to go hunting for it. Originally conceived as Lila’s hench person, but he doesn’t HAVE to be, I just thought it would be a little boring if Lila doesn’t have another person to talk to. You can take or leave any part of him.

Chester Fester.

Age: close to Lila and the Miracuclass parents, so … What are we going with here, late thirties, early forties?

Looks: Only thing I ever got was brown hair, face looks … ratty.

General Notes: Rats are his favourite animal. He has two pet rats, Mister Whiskers, and Morning Glory. Likes fermented and/or cured foods. He hates food waste, and sees rats as performing a vital service by eating the food people throw out. Thinks rats are given unfair press as “plague spreaders”. Hates cats, dogs, anything that could pose a threat to a rat. Was nominally trained as a chef, but has been fired repeatedly for allowing “pests” into kitchens. Always seems to be between jobs as a result. Will cheerfully allow himself to be Akumatized into a “Rat King” style Akuma (original name was Ratatouille, but I’m kind of ‘eh’ on it, especially cause at that point, he’s basically Evil Linguini). Favourite movie, the Rats of N.I.M.H..

The man is a bit … morally vague. I mean, he isn’t the kind of guy to think murder is a viable solution to most problems, but he sees a lot of Laws as more guidelines than anything else. Like, “We’d rather you didn’t do this, but if you don’t get caught, we don’t care” is sort of how he sees it. He sees breaking and entering as more of a challenge. I think the only laws he would follow fastidiously would be traffic laws. He sees why those are there, people operating several tons of metal powered by explosions should follow the rules.

Lila specific: The two met sometime when Lila was pulling a con on a restaurant. Chester was really impressed with her skills, and offered to help her, because the restaurant in question had been putting out rat poison. They’ve been friends ever since.

Chester and Lila did have a brief period of dating, before Lila figured out she was AroAce. She was sure this meant Chester would be ditching her, but Chester surprised her by sticking around. In his words “We were friends first”, and he didn’t really see why whether the two of them slept together should mean anything. People do often assume Chester and Lila are a couple, especially as the pair live together, but the two are simply chaotic besties. The best term is probably “Queer Platonic”, but the two don’t really want to label it. They’re friends. Who else cares? They do have a pact that, if they ever need to, they’ll get married, but only as a last resort kind of thing.

-

1.) Did get this one! Rip to your tech though because while tumblr makes asks disappear it’s happening to you A LOT so idk what it is or how to fix it.

2.) Hm! Maybe it’s a combination? Like like like. Okay I made the post about the lore of what went down with the Sentikids and Kagami actually having a dad. So how about Mr. Tsurugi managed to make Kagami entirely from scratch, which is why he died real quick. Essentially giving his Life Energy to make her. But it broke the Peacock so everyone after still got fucked up. 

Emilie tried to mitigate the effects by doing the Senti-Human hybrid trick, so she’s only dealing with ‘broken Peacock’ not ‘took too much Life Energy at once’. Same with Colt. So they’re still dying, but not as quickly as Mr. Tsurugi did.

Adjust the fuckery in age differences by having like. It’s a Senti-baby she can just make it magic so it speeds up and she’s only actually pregnant for like a month. Colt can do the same with Amelie and then just gaslight her of ‘oh we must’ve been so convinced we were infertile that we didn’t notice you actually got pregnant!’.

3.) I love everything about Chester

[spoldhamauthor]

FREE Halloween Read! 'Night Duty'

If you would like a short, spooky read to get you in the mood for Halloween then here is your Free Read for 2023, courtesy of me! If you enjoy it, take a minute to let me know. Plenty of other free reads on my site too, plus links to all my books. Thanks and I hope you enjoy it. PS Cover art virtually created by NightCafe. https://www.spoldhamauthor.com/halloween-2023

“What do you reckon then? About those ghost walks Kenny was on about?”

Emma, despite her warm-looking coat, is hugging her arms tightly around herself. Every now and then she missteps, trying to walk in a straight line like a sober person.

Walking alongside her, she bumps into me as she weaves her way down the street. I have had a few pints myself, though I think I am surer of foot than her. I let her use me as a buffer as she walks. Better than letting her wander into the road.

Not that there is much traffic. It is late, dark, very cold and this is the quieter part of town. We have had a fun evening with friends, one of whom, Kenny, spent most of the night raving about a ghost walk he went on last weekend. He took a fair bit of ribbing over it, which strangely enough developed into a more serious conversation about the afterlife.

Emma thought it was interesting. After a few minutes I got up, talked to a few mates at the bar, then played a couple of games of pool. The drinks had gone down a little too easy. Before we knew it, we were being asked, politely, to leave.

“What about them?” I respond to Emma, just a little too slowly. I grimace and check my watch. 12.50 pm. I need my bed.

“We should go on one, that’s what I mean! You up for it?”

I shove my hands into my pockets, drop my head to hide my smile, “Not really Em, you know I don’t believe in all that stuff.”

“You should have stayed, listened to what Kenny was saying. I mean, he’s sceptical too, but some of the weird stuff that happened…” Her voice trails off, her words slurred. She is more drunk than I realised.

“If he believes any of the stuff that happened on a ghost walk then he’s not as sceptical as he claims. They use actors, you know! You don’t really buy into all that, do you?”

She looks at me, unwraps an arm to loop around my elbow. At least I can keep her a bit steadier now.

“Well I don’t know do I, Josh? I like to keep an open mind. I mean, nobody really knows anything for sure, do they? Anyway, it might be fun, actors or not. Halloween’s coming up. I reckon we should book a ghost walk.”

“Really? Can’t you get one of your friends to go with you?”

“Party pooper!” She calls me, retracting her hand to stuff into her own pocket, “Scaredy-cat!” She jibes. I refuse to rise to her only semi-playful taunting.

We walk on in silence, the scrape of her boot heels the only sound apart from the distant hum of light traffic.

I hold out an arm to stop her, “Hang on! Something’s not right here.”

“What do you mean, not right? Get out of the way Josh!” She pushes my arm aside but comes to a begrudging stop a little behind me.

“Where the hell are we?” I turn on the spot, looking around. There is absolutely no sound of cars on the road anymore. Now Emma has stopped walking there is not even her footfall to be heard. The night is eerily silent. We are in a part of town I have never seen before.

“What the hell?” I whisper, wondering why my own voice has become so hushed.

“What?” Emma demands, blinking to take in her surroundings, “Very funny Josh! No need to take the piss out of me, just because I said I fancied going on a ghost walk!”

“I’m not taking the piss Emma! Look! Look around you! Do you have any idea where we are?”

I suddenly feel a lot more sober. Emma seems to appreciate how serious I am. She turns on the spot, just as I did, looking around for a landmark she recognises. There is not one.

“What the hell?” She echoes me.

“Exactly!” I exclaim.

We both stand there like idiots for a minute.

“We just go back the way we came,” I say eventually, “come on, about turn.”

I put an arm round her shoulder. Unresisting, she begins walking with me. We take only a few steps before a mist begins to fall around us. Light at first, it soon becomes a thick fog. We halt our steps again.

“This isn’t right!” Emma declares, “There’s no fog in the forecast!”

I keep the thought that this is probably nothing to do with meteorology to myself. Why am I, self-professed sceptic, even thinking that?

“I have never seen fog as thick as this before.”

“I think it’s what ye olde-time Londoners would have called a pea-souper.” Emma informs me.

“Well, we are not ye olde-timers and we’re not in London either!” I do not know why I am starting to feel panicky, I only know that I am. I take a deep breath, not wanting Emma to see it.

Even drunk she can read me well, though she is sobering up a lot, too.

“It’s okay Josh, we keep walking regardless, right? I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? One of us falls off a kerb?”

“Or into the path of an oncoming car!”

“Any driver out in this would have fog lights on and be driving really slowly. I can’t see that happening Josh. Come on.”

She loops her arm round mine again, tugging me forward. Reluctantly, I follow.

“It’s gone a lot colder,” I shiver inside my jacket, pulling Emma in tighter.

“That’s what Kenny said happened on that ghost walk,” she tells me unhelpfully, “It went a lot colder and everyone started getting the chills out of nowhere.”

“Not the best time to be sharing that!” I snap.

She looks up at me and giggles, “You’re not really scared are you, Mister Sceptical Man?”

“Of course I’m not scared!” I feel my good mood evaporating, “I’m just confused, that’s all. I have never taken this wrong turning before. Don’t you think it’s weird? I mean there, look!”

Ahead of us the fog lifts a little, allowing a patch of yellow light to shine through enough to show us black railings, a cobbled road.

“Is that a gas lamp?” Emma stops dead, staring.

I follow her gaze. For the briefest moment I get a glimpse of a tall, black pole, with what could only be described as a Victorian gas lamp atop it. It burned a mellow orange-yellow; straight out of a Dickens novel.

“That’s impossible!” I hiss, “No way! There are no naked flame street lamps in town anymore, they’re long gone!”

“What’s happening?” Emma asks plaintively. I have no answer to give her so I just shrug.

“How should I know? You’re the paranormal expert, you tell me.”

“No need to get snarky with me, Josh! I’m not an expert. It’s probably not even paranormal! I mean, how could it be? It’s just some freak weather event. Global warming or something.”

“How does global warming conjure up a Victorian street scene?”

“I don’t know, do I? Don’t raise your voice to me!”

“Now then sir, madam. What seems to be the problem?”

Emma and I jump in unison. I mean, we literally jump, stepping abruptly backwards, thumping awkwardly into one another. The figure before us has a long, neat moustache, blending into sideburns. A heavy-looking helmet sits on his head, the strap under his chin. He has a dark cape thrown over his shoulders.

I do not know if it is the lingering effects of the alcohol or the continuously swirling mist, but I cannot see any firm edge to his being. It is as if his body is as nebulous as the fog around us.

For a second it envelopes him completely, covering us in such a chill that we cling together. When it parts once more, the lamp is out. With no light behind him the strange figure seems more sinister.

“Causing a public disturbance,” he says in a dry, aged voice, “I could run you in for that.” Menacingly he taps his wooden truncheon into the palm of his free hand.

My tongue feels as solid as stone, useless in my mouth. I am unable to utter a word. Absurdly, I want to tell this officer that we were not causing a disturbance. That it was just a tiff.

I cannot speak. Judging by Emma’s silence, neither can she.

A noise begins. The sound of hard wheels rattling upon an equally hard surface. It is accompanied by the clack of horse hooves. With a chill, I realise it is an approaching carriage.

“What the fu..?” I manage to blurt. The officer cuts me off with a curt warning.

“No such language in front of the young lady!” He admonishes.

I risk tearing my eyes away from this weird apparition to face Emma, “This has to be a wind up, right? Kenny, maybe?”

Her eyes are wide as she looks up at me, her head shaking ‘no’ before I have even finished the sentence.

“This is no joke, Joshua. I think you know that. This is no prank. This is real.”

She sounds sad, all her earlier enthusiasm at possibly encountering a ghost gone.

“This can’t be real!” I whisper urgently, even though the apparition is right there in front of us, listening to every word, “This is a trick of the mind, or the light; or both. This is not real, Emma!”

“Not real?” The officer says, stepping a fraction closer, “How much have you had to drink tonight, sir?”

I do not know what to do. How to respond. What to say to make this go away; to make it not be happening. So I resort to an old tactic. I get angry.

“Back off, pal!” I say, stepping forward, even though I dread the thought of actually touching this thing, “You don’t exist anymore! You’re not even real police!”

Immediately it becomes obvious that I have offended him. Part of me wants to laugh. How do you offend a ghost? Then I see that he is not going to take such an affront lightly. Expecting a blow from the truncheon, I raise a protective arm but all he does is go for the whistle attached by chain to his chest. He puts it to his lips and blows.

A piercing, flat sound like a tiny steam train whistle rents the air. It lingers overlong, the fog parting where the sound travels. When it stops, the silence feels like a weight on my chest. My flesh crawls when I hear the unmistakable heavy tread of boots on the ground.

“Did he just call for back up?”

“What the hell is happening?” Emma demands, fear evident, “Josh, what’s going on?”

She is clinging to my arm, pulling me back from the apparition. I let her. Suddenly, I feel we need to be far away from here.

I find Emma’s hand, grasp it in my own, begin running blindly. She runs with me, both of us stumbling and panting. I hear footsteps behind us, more whistles, the rattle of coach wheels behind them. They are on our tail. Urging Emma on, I pull her behind me when I feel her begin to slow. We cannot stop.

At last, the noise behind us lessens, falls further and further away. It takes a while for me to understand that the fog has lifted and we are back in the clear air again. The night is cold but I can see lights, electric lights, brightening the gloom.

Relief turns my legs to jelly. Emma’s hand feels heavy in mine. I turn to look at her, breathless but smiling, ready to talk with her about what we have just gone through together. This will be a story we will tell for a long time to come.

I feel my grin evaporate when I see that she is not running along behind me. I am holding her hand, yes. I have no idea when her feet betrayed her and she fell. She is lying on the pavement, her clothes bloodied and torn, her skin scraped and ruched. There is a wide graze down the right side of her face. Her eyes stare up at me, unseeing. She is dead.

I cannot let go of her hand. This cannot be real. She cannot be dead. She cannot be.

Sirens approach like banshees. I don’t care. Blue lights cycle in the air. I am still staring stupidly down at Emma when someone takes a firm grip on my shoulder.

“Hands behind your back!” A commanding voice demands of me. I hear it but I don’t understand it. A second hand grabs my other shoulder.

“Hands behind your back!” Another voice takes up the command, “Do not resist! Hands behind your back, now!”

They force Emma’s grip out of my hand, wrenching my arms backwards. I feel the cold metal cuffs snap into place. A paramedic has come, is bending over Emma, checking her vital signs.

I am being dragged away. I keep turning to look at Emma, watching the paramedics do their thing.

“It’s no good,” I say to no one, “it’s no good. She’s dead. She’s dead!”

“I must caution you that you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court.” One of the arresting officers says, almost mechanically, “Do you understand?”

“No,” I shake my head violently, “No, I do not understand! I don’t understand any of this!”

“How much have you had to drink tonight, sir?”

A chill runs through my bones. How much have you had to drink tonight sir?

“What’s happening? Why are you lot here? I don’t get it!”

“We got several calls about a man dragging a young woman violently and pretty relentlessly along the street, that’s why we’re here mate! Now get in the car!”

“What? That’s not true!” I am aware my denial sounds weak. I remember Emma’s cold hand in mine.

“Well clearly it is true, isn’t it? Going by the evidence. Now get in the damned car!”

The evidence? My stomach drops at the thought of that. I sink into the vehicle, all the fight gone out of me.

“Where’s Emma?” I ask suddenly. The officer in the driver’s seat swivels, looks at me oddly, “Emma? Was that her name?”

“Yes, yes!” I am growing impatient, “Where is she?”

“Well she’s dead I’m afraid sir. I mean, you ought to know that…”

“No, no! Where is she? Have they got her in the ambulance yet? She’s not still lying on that pavement, is she? On that street?”

“I am afraid she is, yes. There’s a protocol to be followed in case of deaths like this…”

I cut him off, “Can’t they do it in the ambulance?” I know I am wailing now, “Get her off that street, for God’s sake. Get her off it! That should be part of some bloody ghost walk, never mind Kenny’s bloody graveyard!” I am babbling now.

Tears are streaming down my face so I cannot see the officers face, but I hear the confusion in his tired voice.

“Ghost walk? Station Road? What are you talking about?”

“Station Road? It’s a real street then? Station Road? As in train station?” I ask, sniffing constantly, my throat hoarse. My heart already knows the answer to that question.

“No, not train station. Police Station. One of the first in this area back in the day. But we haven’t picked you up for a history lesson. Unless you feel like telling us what happened here, I suggest you stop talking, mate.”

I sag back onto the seat, suddenly exhausted. Who in their right mind would ever believe what happened? They would blame the drink or something.

I look out of the window. Just beyond the busy paramedics still bent over Emma’s lifeless form, I make out the outline of an archaic policeman. His helmet and uniform are out of time, his moustache and sideburns eccentric. A veil of white mist swirls around him.

Even from this distance, through the window, he catches my eye. He taps the peak of his helmet as if in salute, turns on his heel, his cape swirling dramatically around his shoulders. He saunters away; for all the world pleased with a good job done well.

The soft yellow flame of an antique street lamp blossoms into life for the briefest of moments, welcoming the ghost into its circle of light.

Then they are gone, taking all the light with them.

 

S P Oldham

[avatarvyakara]

So let’s just say I have some catching up to do…

What happens when the cast of Strands of Webbing meets the cast of Across the Spider-Verse? Take a sneak-peek:

409. Reflect

“So, let me go through this one last time. Your name is Pavitr Prabhakar.”

Spider-Man beams through the mask.

“Right on, new guy!”

“And you were, what, bitten by a radioactive spider? Made the avatar of the spider who protected the Linga of Lord Shiva? Woke up one day to find yourself an enormous bug?”

“I prefer to keep my backstory mysterious, because, you know, it’s cooler that way.”

“And your girlfriend is Gayatri Singh, not Meera Jain?”

“Well, I can’t blame you for being interested, but I don’t think she’d be very interested in you. She’s a wonderful person and very faithful.”

“And you live in Mumbattan?”

“What, like it’s a bad name? Where are you from, anyway?”

“Kolkata,” says Pavitr, in a deadpan that he must have picked up from Other Peni.

“Oh, that explains your old-fashioned accent and antiquated fashion sense!”

“I—” Pavitr looks down at his shirt and pants, and then up at this new fellow. “Dude, you’re glittering like a Bollywood star, I don’t think you’re one to talk!”

“I’ll have you know that Bollywood copied me.”

“What’s Bollywood?” asks Mayday, who’s been tagging along.

“Wasn’t this my universe?” Roshni says out loud. The Web-Weaver looks around the enormous city in bewilderment. “But this isn’t Navayurka, it’s Mumbattan. It’s not Amrika, it’s Bharata. Somehow the events in our histories coincided enough that we managed to create almost identical buildings, but the names are completely different—”

“How long have you even been at this job?”

“Oh, uh, I think maaaaaybe a few months? Not much over a year. It’s been so easy the time kind of rushes by without you really thinking about it, doesn’t it.”

“Easy, what—fighting rakshasas all the time is easy?”

Spider-Man, who as they speak has been gallivanting over the rooftops, settles on a spire with a quick somersault. “What do you mean, rakshasas? No wonder you don’t like my costume, you’ve actually been sold on that whole gimmick? Hah! What, are we going to get a naga invasion too?”

“That happened,” says Pavitr, woodenly.

“Dude, you seriously need to chill. And maybe cut down on your caffeine intake.”

“But then I recognize that building and I recognize that traffic jam and I even recognize that graffiti because it annoys me so much and the sound even shows up in Hindi but there’s no holograms so how does anything actually work around here—”

“I cannot believe you’re supposed to be me!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy, guys,” Spider-Girl interrupts. “Why don’t we just relax a bit, get our bearings before anyone glitches, maybe have some chai tea to calm the nerves?”

Both Pavitrs stare at her.

“Mayday…” Pavitr begins, long-suffering.

But Other Pavitr looks downright horrified. “What did you—chai tea? ‘Chai’ means ‘tea’! You’re just saying ‘tea-tea’!”

“Thank you!”

“It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Would I ask for a coffee-coffee with extra sugar-sugar?”

“Of course not!”

“Foreigners, am I right?”

“Americans.”

“I’m right here, guys.”

“Maybe there’s just some kind of mixup, or is this world the past version of my own? But it’s the same graffiti, did someone just keep redrawing it exactly the same way for seven hundred years? On another continent entirely? Or maybe there was some kind of split where a past version of Navayurka provided a psychic template for Mumbattan somehow? Or is it the other way around? I don’t know what’s reeeeeeal!”

Well, at least the Pavitrs are finally getting along.

“Although why you’re asking for sugar-sugar instead of cream-cream I won’t pretend to understand.”

“You absolute heathen.”

Maybe not.

“At least Baby Mayday only throws up on me from time to time,” mutters Mayday to herself, patting a hyperventilating Roshni on the shoulder.

[felinefrenzies]

Planet Hunter || Syd & Daiyu

TIMING: last month or so. LOCATION: in the woods somewhere. PARTIES: @bountyhaunter & @felinefrenzies SUMMARY: daiyu runs into syd who is not the most clothed while in a tree. CONTENT WARNINGS: drug use (mentions, but no actual drug use done-- used as an excuse)

“What the fuck–” Syd shifted to the side, heart leaping up her throat as her hand found nothing to grasp. With quick thinking, she grabbed the branch above her head, pulling herself upward to keep from toppling over the side. She peered down, pained by the distance between herself and the ground. “Dude,” she hissed at her jaguar, pounding her chest with a fist, “can you stop depositing me in trees?” There was no response (because of course there wouldn’t be). She was naked, (not afraid), and stuck in a tree. It wasn’t the typical way she liked to start her mornings, but there wasn’t much she could do to veer off from it. Syd stared down at the ground for a moment longer before heaving a sigh. 

The only way luck had been on her side was that instead of The Common, it seemed as though she was on some far off trail. Syd strained her ears, listening for the telltale sound of cars, people, or generalized foot traffic of other beings. She only caught hint of one– no, two. Two feet, and four. Somebody walking their dog? She froze, pushing herself further against the trunk of the tree, wincing as the branch below her began to creak. God, her ass was going to be sore after this. She maneuvered herself down a branch, quickly and quietly rounding to the other side so that she could use it as somewhat of a shield. 

—

It was time to be a hero. A bounty for a Baukbear had made its way onto the board, marked with notes of emergency and many red exclamation points. Someone’s loved one had been turned into its prey and there was a chance they were still alive. Daiyu had taken up the assignment immediately, motivated by the money that was promised and maybe also a little by the promise of saving a human. The work she did for the Good Neighbors was mostly preventative, after all, and it would be good to see actual immediate results of her actions. 

So she was doing her very best to be the first hunter to succeed at this damsel-in-distress bounty, stalking the woods with her tracking equipment, Nugget and some weapons. It had been a while since the two of them had hunted together and it was nice for him to be out for such a long while, sniffing after squirrels and what not as Daiyu looked for tracks. Something did tug at her stomach at some point, a fishhook pulling at her gut and she wondered if somehow she was getting lucky or if it was something else. She followed her gut, fingers dancing over the knife strapped to her leg just to be safe, and eventually found herself looking up at a human after her ears picked up on a creak of a branch.

Or, well. Human-appearing person. Who was probably also an animal of sorts. “Hi?” Nugget moved over, sitting at her side and looking up along her. “What happened to you?”

—

Unfortunately, her company had learned to look up. Syd froze, as if being still would suddenly create some invisible wall between the two of them. But she was speaking, and her dog was sniffing upward, tail wagging. She immediately took note of the blade strapped to her thigh, tucking away its position as a warning. Maybe it was used for… anything but spilling blood. Because if Syd let her mind wander, somebody would get hurt. The jaguar would unfurl, leaving the two below a mess of skin and bones. “Oh, you know. Total fucking rager last night.” She bit the inside of her cheek, knowing well enough that now she would need to look as though she were struggling to get out of the tree, when in reality, it would be quite easy to scale down it. 

“Can you turn around? My whole ass is out and I gotta get down this thing.” Syd hoped they’d oblige, “and can I borrow that flannel?” It was a lot to ask coming from a stranger and Syd knew that, but she hoped the kindness of a random stranger would upend any kind of scrutiny or suspicion that her new friend might wear. Syd didn’t bother actually waiting for the woman to turn around, mostly because being naked wasn’t odd. Her body was a body all the same as the clothed one ahead of her. She made a whole show of struggling to climb down the tree, grunts and gasps of pain as she ran her palms over the tree bark (all of which were dramaticized). 

—

There were, of course, instances of naked humans in the woods. There were nudists and streakers and people who just thought they were all by themselves and so walked around with no care in the world. Sure. Those humans existed, but Daiyu doubted that the naked and embarrassed person in the tree was just a lost streaker or adventurous hiker. No, all the signs pointed to this being a shifter who shifted and then shifted back and was now stuck in a tree. “Yeah, totally,” she said, her gaze averting. She felt her cheeks grow a little red. “Totally know, I go to all the ragers.” 

She did turn around, because she didn’t really enjoy watching the naked form of strangers climb down trees. The feeling in her stomach persisted, that fish hook pulling at her navel more and more as she other went down. Daiyu considered the question for a moment. Helping a shifter was a conflicting thing, wasn’t it? But it was just a fucking flannel. It wasn’t like she was aiding a werewolf to kill indiscriminately or a siren lure someone to their death. She pulled the flannel off and tossed it over her shoulder. “Yup, there you go. So you um, in your transformation era then?”

—

“Do you?” Syd almost asked which ones, but stopped herself. As soon as the girl turned around, she quickened her movements, practically floating to the ground. Twigs snapped beneath her weight, and the smell of dead leaves lifted to her nose. “Maybe we’ll see each other there sometime, then.” Syd waited silently, hopeful that her company would provide access to some kind of modesty, as it was apparent that she wasn’t comfortable with it. Or maybe she was, and the tips of her ears were red not because of embarrassment, but because of something else that Syd could not place. 

Syd let out a hum as soon as the flannel shot through the air. She grabbed it before it hit the ground, pulling it over her shoulders, buttoning it up quickly. It was lucky that there wasn’t much of a difference in height, or else this might be for nothing. “Appreciate it.” Now where did they go from here? Syd hesitated for a moment after hearing her question. That seemed loaded. Fuck. Shit. Okay! Maybe it didn’t mean anything. “Transformation era? Not sure what’s transformative about getting stuck in a tree after taking shrooms.” Maybe this person hadn’t ever taken them, and wouldn’t know what the fuck she was insinuating. “But uh, sure? Maybe.” She stared at the woman’s back for a moment before clearing her throat, “you can turn around now.” 

—

Daiyu did, in fact, not go to ragers. The most she participated in local nightlife was by going to bars and drinking sodas and throwing darts. Clubs were nightmares on her senses, raves would make her want to punch someone and she just didn’t really see the point in any of it. She liked concerts, though, but could be found at the edge of those, nodding her head and tapping one foot. She didn’t know why she’d said that, but seeing someone naked flustered her (which was annoying) and besides, she didn’t want to come across as someone who was lame. “Yeah, sure we will, absolutely — do wear clothes then.” 

She was staring at the lichen on a tree, eyes not straying. Being a prude was also something Daiyu wasn’t very proud of, but it was simply how it was. It did make her hunting shifters kind of unfortunate, though — which was in part why she preferred hunting them while shifted. She glanced over her shoulder, glad to see the other covered in her plaid and turned properly. “You know, like … hashtag transformation Thursday?” She threw up a peace sign and pushed her lips together. A nasty part within wanted to make the other as uncomfortable as she felt. “Where’d your clothes go?”

—

“And here I was hoping you’d like me like this.” It was the first thing that came to mind, a means of deflection, of turning the brunette’s burning questions back onto her, or in Syd’s case, statement. Syd smoothed down the corners of the flannel that hung around her thighs, pushing the sleeves up slightly. “I’ll get this washed and get it back to you, for sure.” They attempted a smile, though it hardly counted as one. It felt awkward, like they were pushing the corners of their lips up with their fingers. 

“Hashtag transformation…” Syd paused, “you mean what those mom’s post on Facebook and stuff? That thing? Uh, sure. I guess.” Maybe this woman spent a lot of time on Facebook following trends. Or maybe she just liked taglines. Maybe she had a shirt that screamed DON’T TALK TO ME BEFORE I’VE HAD MY COFFEE. The longer Syd looked at her, the more she felt that the case. The next question that came, Syd shrugged. “You ever take shrooms? Sometimes they just crawl off your back. You know, it’s all about wanting to feel nature.” The jaguar was dormant for now, and Syd was appreciative of that fact. “They’re probably somewhere around here.” Syd spun around for dramatics. “But fuck if I know, quite honestly.” 

—

She could still feel the tips of her ears burning and she cursed her human blood for streaming so viciously through her veins. Daiyu was doomed to be overemotional though, it seemed — and though this was hardly the worst kind of emotional response out there, it sure was uncomfortable. “Don’t know you well enough to have any typ’ah opinion of how I do or do not like you but I bet it’s with clothes on, no offense.” She shrugged at the assurance that she’d get her flannel back, figuring it was just the other being polite.

The flannel did look good on the other, but that might be because she was relieved that she was now covered up. Daiyu crossed her arms, tucking her hands underneath her opposing elbows. “Nah, I don’t fuck with moms on Facebook, not since the incident,” she said, not sure what incident she was talking about. (There had been a few, but none of them had deterred her from going head to head with them, in all fairness.) “I can feel nature with my clothes on and no, never did shrooms. Halluc– hallucinogens aren’t my jam.” One encounter with ballybogs had turned into one bad trip that had ruined at least two months of her life. “Must get expensive, losing your clothes often. Or do you always get strangers to lend you their shit?”

—

“Damn, and here I thought we were making a real connection.” A body was a body no matter the way somebody looked at it, but it also was about consent. Syd knew that this woman probably didn’t plan on seeing somebody naked out in the woods today, or ever. Or maybe it happened a lot to her, given her reaction. Syd couldn’t be sure. It was easier to think that was the case, anyway. 

“The incident? Wait, I need to know. Maybe later, when I don’t have my bare ass out, but I want you to tell me.” She was intrigued, to say the least. Syd hummed, trying to keep up the act of avid shroom taker so that there’d be no more questions lighting a fire beneath her ass. “Sometimes the wind just feels nice against your leg hair, you know?” They dangled their foot outward as if to signify that fact. The flannel was long enough to cover down to their thighs at the very least, so maybe her company would relax soon. “I get that. They’re not for everyone.” Syd couldn’t remember the last time they had done shrooms, but it hadn’t been any time recently. Maybe that worked better in their favor. “No, most of the time I just wake up and go home. I don’t live super far from here.” They paused, clearing their throat. “Maybe I should tie a go bag around my arm or something.” The jaguar would be pissed about that, and it’d end up torn to pieces anyway, but it wasn’t like her company knew that. 

—

Daiyu assumed the other was just saying that to be saying something, which was how she approached most – if not all – communication. She wasn’t really the kind of person that people connected with randomly in the woods, after all. Especially not shifters that were naked and wearing her clothes, now. “Rest in pieces,” she answered, which she thought was a very good reply to the other’s comment.

She huffed in amusement, “Sure thing,” she said, even though she was sure she would not be recounting her experiences arguing with Facebook moms online with this shifter. Daiyu liked not making life too complicated for herself. Even though she didn’t hunt every shifter she came across, didn’t mean she had to befriend them either. “If I wanna feel the wind against my legs, I just wear shorts. Heard of them? They have many kinds of them.” It was funny, the way shifters and hunters all danced around the truth. Daiyu wasn’t telling the other that she could sense that they were a shifter, and the other wasn’t telling her that they were a shifter. It was strange to hold more information, though — it wasn’t often that Daiyu was the smarter person in the room. “Totally should. Or like, hide different bags of clothes in the woods. In case you trip and get lost again, or whatever.” She offered a grin. “Seems unfortunate.”

—

Syd let out an amused laugh, though there was very little light that actually reached her eyes, only because of the anxiety bleeding from the situation. They cleared their throat, crossing their arms against their chest. It wasn’t necessarily a defiant gesture, but one that she felt put a little space between her and the random woman in the woods. It felt better that way, anyway. 

“Shorts? No, what are those? Afraid I haven’t seen those.” A half-smile curled at the corners of their lips, though it faltered soon after. “No, I have. That was a lie, obviously. I like shorts.” They dragged their index finger against their leg, marking where the shorts they usually wore cut off at. “They’re nice. Pants are too constricting, you know? ‘Specially this time of year.” There was a brief pause and the silence she anticipated was filled with the rustling of leaves and several birds singing to one another far above them. “Hide bags of clothes in the woods? That seems like a lot of trouble. What if someone runs off with it?” Really, Syd didn’t like to spend more time off trails than needed. This was one of those one-off scenarios that they couldn’t really control. “It is so fucking unfortunate. Ass out, lost my shrooms, probably my wallet. If you canvas this area a lot, let me know if you find it. It’s pink with a heart on it and a sticker of my dog and bearded dragon.” 

—

Daiyu understood what the other was doing, even if she couldn’t name it or point it out specifically. But offering a rebuttal that made little sense? That was her M.O., too. Of course the other had heard of shorts, but of course she also acted like she never had. It was kind of fun to be met with such a reply, even if the formerly naked shapeshifter changed their tune quite quickly.

“Absolutely get what you mean, though in these woods sometimes more coverage is good, you know? Some plants sting.” Never mind all the beasts and creatures that roamed away, that had more way to harm you when your legs were bared. Maybe that wasn’t something a shifter had to consider, though, as they were covered in fur or feathers in their actual, true form. Daiyu wondered what the other looked like when she didn’t inhibit this deceptive body. “Eh, fair enough. If some random hiker doesn’t take your shit, a bear might.” Bugbear or normal. She didn’t think the other was a bugbear, though, as she’d not tried to scare her yet. Regardless of what supernatural thing she was, though, she had helped her — even if she’d pushed and prodded a little. And now, no matter what she said in response to the other’s request, she’d be looking for the other’s bag, too. “Yeah, sure.” 

She wanted to ask about the other’s dog and bearded dragon. Two pets, and two great ones at that. Did she keep pets because she was an animal herself, in a way? Daiyu silenced her curiosity, though. There was no room for it, here. “Good luck, or whatever.” She raised two fingers to her head and saluted, turning from her abandoned duty and the bare minimum she could have done for a strange, naked shifter in the woods. 

—

“Shit. You’re right. I’ll make sure to bring the chamomile, too.” Syd grinned at her, knowing fully well that they both knew they were beating around some kind of bush. Syd just had no idea that the brunette’s were full of knives and a traumatic upbringing. 

“A bear… thieving little bastards, you’re right.” They often had bears at the campsite, but not because there was ever any food left out– mostly because it was their home first, and Syd’s parents were big on the whole return the land to who once owned it, and that included the bears that roamed around Wicked’s Rest. “Appreciate your concern though. Not many people tell me to put on pants.” That could’ve been meant two ways, but they didn’t bother addressing which one they had meant. 

“Good luck or whatever to you, too.” She tugged at the sleeves of the brunette’s flannel, raising a hand. “i’ll get this washed and returned to you whenever I see you next.” Really, Syd hoped it’d be soon. Mostly because she didn’t like owing other people anything. Maybe she’d throw in some tea with it, it looked like the other could stand to relax a little. 

[ktzart]

1, 3, 5, & 7

going to answer for each category. bc im like th ejoker (all 1s already done)

Appearance 3: Is there something about your character's appearance that they would change if possible?

Bishop would erase every single scar she has.

Kero has the transgender factor I suppose although the changes they want to make are in fact extremely physically possible just not to a girlie who is constantly running for their life and killing demons. hard to save up for a vaginoplasty when there's beasts

Appearance 5: What are your character's opinion on scars?

Jax , low-key has a fetish for this [thumbs up emoji]

Appearance 7: Is there someone your character tries to look similar to?

Harlow is trying to look like every single rival influencer who ever pops up on their feed, but BETTER, OBVIOUSLY,

Objects 3: What type of object is likely to catch your character's attention?

Wormwood is incredibly intrigued by anything where Parts Fit Together (clocks, jigsaw puzzles, traffic circles, knee joints). and If Those Parts That Fit Together Also Move? Holy Fuck

Anna likes things that are brightly colored or otherwise visually obnoxious. particularly pink ones

Objects 5: Would your character ever try to haggle?

dagmar will because that's how mama raised her. also she's at the moment broker than she's been in a very long time

Objects 7: Does your character ever spend more than they have?

Dagmar, The Divorce, It Was Very Hard On Her, You See

Food+Drink 3: Is there a food or drink your character is unwilling to try?

I think Bishop is kind of scared of shellfish. all those legs....

Food+Drink 5: Does your character consider eating fun?

Nina: Sinful Harlow: An Unfortunate Addiction Jax: :/

Rosier loves eating! they dont need to do it! but gosh the texture of a warm, nearly still quivering liver. unbeatable.

Food+Drink: Is there food that has made your character sick?

Harlow can't eat anything besides blood anymore B) theyll throw it up B)

Weather+Nature 3: What season would your character say they're most similar to?

Harlow gets this question on their Instagram stories and says theyre autumn because theyre a fucking liar who needs to keep up appearances and the only association theyre thinking of is Halloween:Goth. in fact they are a winter where it's bitterly cold but never snows. it only turns icy and wet.

Kero says summer and they are 100% correct

Weather+Nature 5: Has your character ever had an animal phase?

Anna is very actively a furry.

Community+Relationships 3: How comfortable would your character be singing and dancing in front of others?

Khris is a great dancer. he goes out dancing several times a week. this is without exception a shock to every single one of his coworkers when they find out. he would never sing though

Sadie obviously has to be fine with singing in public. the best girl can have a little of attention-hogging. if she wants it

Community+Relationships 5: Who would your character first seek if they needed medical help?

Bishop: the first aid kit in the back of her truck,

Harlow: no one, waits to die while overcome by equally strong feelings of titillation and terror,

Everyone Else: The Doctor,

Community+Relationships 7: Who is your character most honest with?

basically the only person Jax won't lie to is his sister Alice. luckily for his self destructive impulses she lives in massachusetts now and it's way easier to sidestep uncomfortable conversations over the phone

Kero is honest with basically everyone, they think lying is unethical and are a believer in #communication

Khris is also honest with basically everyone, he thinks lying creates more problems than it can solve and is a believer in #efficiency

Mind, Body, Soul 3: Is your character more prone to fight or flight?

if we take this to mean in a situation where they genuinely feel in physical danger:

Anna: fight. Dagmar: fight. Erin: fight. Nina: fight. Harlow: flight. Jax: fawn. Kero: flight. Khris: freeze. Martine: fight. Riddick: flight. Rosier: fawn. Bishop: fight. Sadie: fight. Wormwood: fight.

in a situation more about emotional stress:

Anna: fight. Dagmar: fight. Erin: fight. Nina: freeze. Harlow: flight. Jax: fawn. Kero: fight. Khris: fight. Martine: freeze. Riddick: flight. Rosier: fawn. Bishop: flight. Sadie: freeze. Wormwood: freeze.

Mind, Body, Soul 5: What words could tear your character down?

people have had great success dealing emotional damage to Sadie by saying that she's Not Enough, that everyone sees her as a joke, that nobody seriously likes her.

Mind, Body, Soul 7: Is your character good at practicing self-care?

I don't even need to specify a character. No

Hobbies+Activities 3: What is a talent your character wishes they had?

Harlow is 100% killing themself 24/7 because they arent a famous singer i think. generally the only talents my OCs desire are the talents of Being Normal or Being Loved (cringe)

Hobbies+Activities 5: Which does your character try to prioritize more, work or hobbies?

Khrs my beloved token workaholic. guy who schedules his hookups on his calendar

Hobbies+Activities 7: What is a talent that your character is proud of?

Sadie feels, often to her emotional detriment, that her singing is the only thing she Truly has going for her as a valuable person