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whencartoonsruletheworld · 4 years ago

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Disney but just the Queer Mood™ Songs, a full Spotify Playlist

Open to updates should anyone notice a song I missed!

Tracklist with specific lyrics that fuck us all up under the cut:

KEY: A general list of which songs resonate with people. The 🏳️‍🌈is for general songs; if you relate to a song but don’t see ur emoji beneath it, send me a message and I’ll add it!

🏳️‍🌈 General Queer Anthem 🌈 Gays specifically have related to this song ❤️ Gay Men specifically have related to this song 🧡 Lesbians specifically have related to this song 💕 Bisexuals/Pansexuals specifically have related to this song 💜 Asexuals/Ace-spectrum people specifically have related to this song 💚 Aromatics/Aro-spectrum people specifically have related to this song 🤍 Trans people have specifically related to this song 🖤 Nonbinary/Genderqueer people have specifically related to this song 💗 Polyamorous people have specifically related to this song

Know Who You Are - Moana

🏳️‍🌈

They have stolen the heart from inside you But this does not define you This is not who you are You know who you are...

I Wonder - Sleeping Beauty

🌈🧡

I wonder, I wonder, I wonder why each little bird has a someone To sing to, sweet things to, A gay little love melody I wonder, I wonder, I wonder if my heart keeps singing, Will my song go winging To someone, who'll find me And bring back a love song to me...

Mother Knows Best - Tangled

🏳️‍🌈 honestly this is just... a general song for some of our shitty relationships to guardian figures...

It's a scary world out there Mother knows best One way or another Something will go wrong, I swear

Me, I'm just your mother, what do I know? I only bathed and changed and nursed you Go ahead and leave me, I deserve it Let me die alone here, be my guest When it's too late You'll see, just wait Mother knows best

Don't forget it You'll regret it...

Dangerous to Dream - Frozen Broadway Production

🏳️‍🌈

I can't be what you expect of me But I'm trying every day with all I do and do not say Here on the edge of the abyss Knowing everything in my whole life has lead to this And so I pull inside myself, close the walls, put up my guard I've practiced every single day for this So why is it so hard?

I can't dwell on what we've lost And our secrecy and silence comes at such a cost

I wish I could tell the truth Show you who's behind the door I wish you knew what all this pantomime And pageantry was for

It's dangerous to wish I could make choices of my own Dangerous to even have that thought I'm dangerous just standing here for everyone to see If I let go of rules who knows how dangerous I'd be?

Reflection - Mulan

🏳️‍🌈🤍🖤- literally everyone requested this. everyone. so im just copy-pasting the entire lyrics sorry not sorry

Look at me, I will never pass for a perfect bride Or a perfect daughter Can it be I'm not meant to play this part? Now I see that if I were truly to be myself I would break my family's heart

Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me? Why is my reflection someone I don't know? Somehow I cannot hide who I am, though I’ve tried When will my reflection show who I am inside?

How I pray that a time will come I can free myself From their expectations On that day, I'll discover someway to be myself And to make my family proud They want a docile lamb No one knows who I am Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide? Must I pretend that I'm Someone else for all time? When will my reflection show Who I am inside? When will my reflection show Who I am inside?

Everything I Ever Thought I Knew - Tangled: The Series

🏳️‍🌈 when u realize u might not be straight lol

I thought no one could love me And how could I have known? I was wrong, oh so wrong

Everything I ever thought I knew Where I've been, where I'm going Everything I counted on turned out to be untrue Could've guessed, should've known, now I do

If none of it was really me then who am I supposed to be?

I guess I'm someone else now I wonder who I am

God Help the Outcasts - Hunchback of Notre Dame

🏳️‍🌈...yeah. yeah

Yes, I know I'm just an outcast I shouldn't speak to You Still, I see Your face and wonder Were You once an outcast, too?

God help the outcasts, hungry from birth Show them the mercy they don't find on Earth God help my people, they look to You, still God help the outcasts or nobody will

I ask for nothing, I can get by But I know so many less lucky than I Please help my people, the poor and downtrod I thought we all were the children of God

Belle (Reprise) - Beauty and the Beast

🌈 when a cishet thinks ur interested smh

Madame Gaston! Can't you just see it? Madame Gaston! His little wife No, sir! Not me! I guarantee it I want much more than this provincial life!

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere I want it more than I can tell And for once it might be grand To have someone understand I want so much more than they've got planned...

Part of Your World - The Little Mermaid

🌈 SO many people requested this one guys it’s not even funny

Wandering free, wish I could be Part of that world

Betcha on land, they understand Bet they don't reprimand their daughters Bright young women, sick of swimming Ready to stand

When's it my turn? Wouldn't I love, Love to explore that shore up above?

One Jump Ahead (Reprise) - Aladdin

🏳️‍🌈

Riff-raff, street rat I don't buy that If only they'd look closer

Would they see a poor boy? No, siree They'd find out There's so much more to me...

Proud of Your Boy - Aladdin Broadway Production

🏳️‍🌈❤️🤍

That I've been one rotten kid Some son, some pride and some joy But I'll get over these lousin' up Messin' up, screwin' up times...

Water flows under the bridge Let it pass, let it go There's no good reason that you should believe me Not yet, I know, but

Someday and soon I'll make you proud of your boy Though I can't make myself taller Or smarter or handsome or wise I'll do my best, what else can I do? Since I wasn't born perfect like Dad or you...

Someone’s Waiting for You - The Rescuers

🏳️‍🌈

Be brave, little one Make a wish for each sad little tear Hold your head up though no one is near Someone's waiting for you

Always keep a little prayer in your pocket And you're sure to see the light Soon there'll be joy and happiness And your little world will be bright

Have faith, little one Til your hopes and your wishes come true

Stick to the Status Quo - High School Musical

🏳️‍🌈 🌈 YOU ALL KNOW EXACTLY WHY THIS IS HERE

No, no, no, stick to the stuff you know It is better by far to keep things as they are Don't mess with the flow, no no Stick to the status quo

Into the Unknown - Frozen 2

🏳️‍🌈

I can hear you, but I won't Some look for trouble while others don't There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day And ignore your whispers which I wish would go away

I've had my adventure, I don't need something new I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you

Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be? Every day's a little harder as I feel my power grow Don't you know there's part of me that longs to go

Where are you going? Don't leave me alone How do I follow you Into the unknown?

Go the Distance - Hercules

🏳️‍🌈

I have often dreamed of a far off place Where a great, warm welcome will be waiting for me

And a voice keeps saying This is where I'm meant to be

I am on my way, I can go the distance I don't care how far, somehow I'll be strong I know every mile will be worth my while I would go most anywhere to find where I belong

Tomorrow - Annie

🏳️‍🌈 - betcha didnt know disney had an annie movie did u

The sun will come out tomorrow Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow There'll be sun

When I'm stuck in a day that's gray and lonely, I just stick out my chin and grin and say, oh, The sun’ll come out tomorrow So you gotta hang on til tomorrow, come what may...

Learn Me Right - Brave

🏳️‍🌈💜💚

Though I may speak some tongue of old Or even spit out some holy word I have no strength with which to speak When you sit me down and see I’m weak

We will run and scream you will dance with me We'll fulfill our dreams, and we'll be free We will be who we are, and they’ll heal our scars Sadness will be far away...

Strange Sight - Tinkerbell and the Legend of the Neverbeast

🏳️‍🌈

You stand in the light You're wrong, but you're right And my heart's beating wildly Strange how I'm scared but delighted Afraid, but excited too

I will understand you Strange how I'm drawn to the danger I reach out my hand to you

If you're caught in the shadows and turned all around Lost in the darkness, you will be found If you hear my voice, follow the sound Cause I'm here to guide you home...

I Don’t Dance - High School Musical 2

🌈 ❤️ 💕 okay so if you weren’t here for the high school musical tumblr revival you may be confused but listen... it’s about being mlm...

Step up to the plate, start swinging

I wanna play ball Now that’s all, this is what I do It ain’t no dance that you can show me

I’ve got what it takes playin’ my game So you best skin that pitch you gonna throw me, yeah I’ll show you how I swing

I can prove it to you ‘til you know it’s true Cause I can swing it, I can bring it to the diamond too You’re talking a lot, show me what you got Stop, swing!

Kiss the Girl - cover of The Little Mermaid

this version is sung by a girl so 🧡💕

There you see her, sitting there across the way She don't got a lot to say but there's something about her And you don't know why, but you're dying to try You wanna kiss the girl

Yes, you want her Look at her, you know you do It's possible she want you too There is one way to ask her...

Can You Feel the Love Tonight - The Lion King

🏳️‍🌈

An enchanted moment And it sees me through It's enough for this restless warrior Just to be with you

There's a time for everyone if they only learn That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors When the heart of this star-crossed voyager Beats in time with yours

And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer That we got this far And can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best

Beauty and the Beast - Beauty and the Beast

🏳️‍🌈- a lot of queer people tend to empathize with “beastly” characters so we all latched the fuck onto this movie huh

Just a little change, small to say the least Both a little scared, neither one prepared

Ever just the same, ever a surprise Ever as before, ever just as sure As the sun will rise

Tale as old as time, tune as old as song Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change Learning you were wrong...

Healing Incantation - Tangled

🏳️‍🌈🤍🖤

Heal what has been hurt Change the fates' design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine

So Close - Enchanted

🏳️‍🌈🌈

A life goes by, romantic dreams will stop So I bid mine goodbye and never knew So close was waiting waiting here with you And now, forever, I know All that I wanted to hold you so close

Oh, how could I face the faceless days If I should lose you now?

So close to reaching that famous happy end Almost believing this one's not pretend Let’s go on dreaming though we know we are So close, so close, and still So far...

If Only - Descendants

🏳️‍🌈🌈

A million thoughts in my head Should I let my heart keep listening? Cause up 'til now, I've walked the line Nothing lost but something missing I can't decide what's wrong, what's right Which way should I go?

Every step, every word With every hour I'm feeling in To something new, something brave To someone I've never been

Will you still be with me When the magic's all run out?

If only I knew what my heart was telling me Don't know what I'm feeling Is this just a dream? If only I could read the signs in front of me I could find the way to who I'm meant to be

Wherever You Are - Pooh’s Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin

🏳️‍🌈- out of context could be interpreted as romantic, esp since the credits version is a duet (🌈 💕) but the original context is friendship so honestly it’s very 💜💚

I'm out here in the dark, all alone and wide awake Come and find me I'm empty and I'm cold, and my heart's about to break Come and find me

I need you to come here and find me Cause without you, I'm totally lost I've hung a wish on every star It hasn't done much good so far I can only dream of you

But when the morning comes and the sun begins to rise, I will lose you Because it’s just a dream, when I open up my eyes, I will lose you

I used to believe in forever, But forever is too good to be true I've hung a wish on every star It hasn't done much good so far

I don't know what else to do Except to try to dream of you And wonder, if you're dreaming too Wherever you are

I Won’t Say (I’m In Love) - Hercules

🏳️‍🌈 🌈 💕

If there's a prize for rotten judgment, I guess I've already won that

Who d'you think you're kiddin'? He's the earth and heaven to ya Try to keep it hidden Honey, we can see right through ya Girl, you can't conceal it We know how you feel And who you're thinking of

I thought my heart had learned its lesson It feels so good when you start out My head is screaming "Get a grip, girl!" Unless you're dying to cry your heart out

You keep on denying Who you are and how you're feeling Baby, we're not buying Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling

This scene won't play I won't say I'm in love

At least out loud, I won't say I'm in love

Endless Night - The Lion King Broadway Production

🏳️‍🌈🤍 🖤

Where has the starlight gone? Dark is the day How can I find my way home? Home is an empty dream, lost to the night Father, I feel so alone

When will the dawning break, oh, endless night Sleepless I dream of the day

I know that the night must end And that the sun will rise I know that the clouds must clear And that the sun will shine

Set Yourself Free - Tangled: The Series

🏳️‍🌈🤍

There's much more inside of you than anyone can see And now the choice is yours Life waits beyond the doors So step on through, the time has come And only you can set yourself free!

No one else can tell you what to do Or who to be! No one gets to say if you will stay or go

Look inside your heart and find the key... And set yourself free!

Bound up by your worries Trapped by your mistakes Forced to play a role you never chose Why not test your limits? You've got what it takes Let it out and follow where it goes

No more letting someone else define you to a "T" You know that you are strong You've known it all along So seize the day, let down your hair You’ll find a way to set yourself free!

So look to the horizon Open up your wings! Fly away to find your destiny... And set yourself free!

Speechless - Aladdin 2019 Remake

🏳️‍🌈 ALL OF US ALL OF US

Here comes a wave meant to wash me away A tide that is taking me under

Cause I'll breathe when they try to suffocate me! Don't you underestimate me! Cause I know that I won't go speechless!

Written in stone, every rule, every word Centuries old and unbending "Stay in your place, better seen and not heard," Well, now that story is ending

Try to lock me in this cage! I won't just lay me down and die! I will take these broken wings And watch me burn across the sky!

I’m Still Here (Jim’s Theme) - Treasure Planet

🏳️‍🌈❤️🤍

I am a question to the world Not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms

You don't know me And I'll never be what you want me to be

And what do you think you'd understand I'm a boy - No, I'm a man You can't take me and throw me away And how can you learn what's never shown Yeah, you stand here on your own They don't know me, cause I’m not here

And I want to tell you who I am Can you help me be a man They can't break me As long as I know who I am

They can't tell me who to be 'Cause I'm not what they see Yeah, the world is still sleepin' While I keep on dreaming for me And their words are just whispers and lies That I'll never believe!

Crossing the Line - cover of Tangled: the Series

🏳️‍🌈 🧡 tfw when u are DONE with that fuckin closet

This has to stop now This thing where you think that you've been my friend And don't even hear how you condescend The way you've always done

How I've tried to jump that great divide! But I've never got the chances you were given You don't know how much I've been denied Well, I'm not being patient anymore

I'm crossing the line! And I'm done holding back So look out, clear the track, it's my turn! I'm taking what's mine Every drop, every smidge If I'm burning a bridge, let it burn! But I'm crossing the line...

Let it Go - Frozen

🏳️‍🌈 listen. i do not have to explain this one. you all know exactly why it’s here. we were all tiny gays in 2013 losing our shit in the theater for no discernable reason why. we know

Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I tried

Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well, now they know!

Let it go! Let it go! Turn away and slam the door! I don't care what they're going to say!

It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small And the fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all!

No right, no wrong, no rules for me I'm free!

I'm never going back, the past is in the past!

Let it go! Let it go! And I'll rise like the break of dawn Let it go! Let it go! That perfect girl is gone!

This is Me - Camp Rock

🏳️‍🌈 🧡 💕 🤍

I've always been the kind of girl that hid my face So afraid to tell the world what I've got to say But I have this dream right inside of me I'm gonna let it show it's time To let you know It's to let you know

Do you know what it's like to feel so in the dark? To dream about a life where you're the shining star

This is real, this is me I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, now Gonna let the light shine on me Now I've found who I am there's no way to hold it in No more hiding who I wanna be...

Breaking Free - High School Musical

🏳️‍🌈 🖤

You know the world can see us In a way that's different than who we are Creating space between us 'Till we're separate hearts But your faith it gives me strength Strength to believe

Soarin, flyin There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach If we’re trying, yeah we’re breaking free We’re running, climbin To get to the place, to be all that we can be Now’s the time, so we’re breaking free

True To Your Heart - Mulan

🏳️‍🌈 🌈

Baby, I knew at once that you were meant for me Deep in my soul, I know that I'm your destiny Though you're unsure Why fight the tide Don't think so much Let your heart decide

True to your heart You must be true to your heart That's when the heavens'll part And, baby, shower you with my love Open your eyes Your heart can tell you no lies And when you're true to your heart I know it's gonna lead you straight to me

Someone ya know is on your side can set you free I can do that for you if you believe in me Why second guess what feels so right Just trust your heart And you'll see the light

Never Knew I Needed - The Princess and the Frog

🏳️‍🌈 🌈 💕

For the way you changed my plans For being the perfect distraction For the way you took the idea that I have Of everything that I wanted to have And made me see there was something missing...

My accidental happily ever after The way you smile and how you comfort me with your laughter I must admit you were not a part of my book But now if you open it up and take a look You're the beginning and the end of every chapter

You're the best thing I never knew I needed So when you were here I had no idea You'd be the best thing I never knew I needed So now it's so clear I need you here always

Colors of the Wind - Pocahontas

🏳️‍🌈 - colors.... rainbows.... yea

How can there be so much that you don't know? You don't know...

You think the only people who are people Are the people who look and think like you But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew

How high will the sycamore grow If you cut it down, then you'll never know And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon For whether we are white or copper skinned We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains We need to paint with all the colors of the wind...

I See the Light - Tangled

🏳️‍🌈 🌈 - you would not BELIEVE how many of y’all requested this one

Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight Now I'm here, suddenly I see Standing here, it's all so clear I'm where I'm meant to be

Now she's here shining in the starlight Now she's here, suddenly I know If she's here it's crystal clear I'm where I'm meant to go

And at last I see the light And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light And it's like the sky is new And it's warm and real and bright And the world has somehow shifted

All at once, everything looks different Now that I see you

Strangers Like Me - Tarzan

🏳️‍🌈 🤍 🖤- that moment when u find another queer person and ur like “holy shit”

I can see there's so much to learn It's all so close and yet so far I see myself as people see me Oh, I just know there's something bigger out there

Come with me now to see my world Where there's beauty beyond your dreams Can you feel the things I feel Right now, with you Take my hand There's a world I need to know...

Why Should I Worry? - Oliver & Company

🏳️‍🌈- we’re queer, we’re here, get used to it

Why should I worry? Why should I care? I may not have a dime But I got street savoir-faire Why should I worry? Why should I care? It's just be-bopulation And I got street savoir-faire

Why should I worry? Why should I care? And even when I crossed that line I got street savoir-faire

Welcome - Brother Bear

🏳️‍🌈 pride parade amirite

Everyone's invited This is how we live We are here for each other, happy to give All we have we share And all of us we care

There's a bond between us nobody can explain It's a celebration of life We see our friends again I'll be there for you I know you'll be there for me, too So come on!

This has to be the most beautiful The most peaceful place I've ever been to It's nothing like I've never seen before When I think how far I've come I can't believe it And yet I see it In them I see family I see the way we used to be...

The Great Divide - Tinkerbell and the Secret of the Wings

🏳️‍🌈

I'm on your side Let's take this ride And together we're facing the world Doing things nobody's done before And the great divide doesn’t seem so wide anymore

With You by My Side - Tangled: the Series

💗 - tangled the series was so close to being canon polyam istg

Now; now more than ever We must stick together united

If we're destined to head in our own different ways Let's make the most of these sweet final days Why not go out in a glorious blaze

There's nothing I couldn't do Not with you by my side What in the world would I do Without you by my side...

Love Will Find a Way - The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride

🏳️‍🌈 🌈

In a perfect world One we've never known We would never need to face the world alone They can have the world We'll create our own I may not be brave or strong or smart But somewhere in my secret heart

And if only they could feel it too The happiness I feel with you

Like dark turning into day Somehow we'll come through Now that I've found you Love will find a way I know love will find a way

Space Between - Descendants 2

🧡 never have i ever seen gays flock to a song faster

And you can find me in the space between Where two worlds come to meet I'll never be out of reach Cause you're a part of me so you can find me in the space between You'll never be alone No matter where you go We can meet in the space between

Even if we're worlds apart You're still in my heart It will always be you and me, yeah

If I Never Knew You - Pocahontas

🏳️‍🌈🌈

And if I never held you I would never have a clue How at last I'd find in you The missing part of me...

In this world so full of fear Full of rage and lies I can see the truth so clear In your eyes So dry your eyes

If I never knew you I'd be safe but half as real Never knowing I could feel A love so strong and true

I thought our love would be so beautiful Somehow we'd make the whole world bright I never knew that fear and hate could be so strong All they'd leave us were these whispers in the night But still my heart is saying we were right

I’d Give Anything - Tangled: the Series

🧡 rapunzel’s sad breakup song

So if you find that you're in darkness or despair Though you won't turn to me please know I'll be right there Name any sacrifice, I'll pay the price that's due Cause I'd give anything for you Yes, I'd give anything to relive everything we knew...

Someday - Hunchback of Notre Dame

🏳️‍🌈

I used to believe In the days I was naïve That I'd live to see A day of justice dawn And though I will die Long before that morning comes I'll die while believing still It will come when I am gone

Someday, when we are wiser When the world's older, when we have learned I pray someday we may yet live To live and let live

Someday, these dreams will all be real Till then we'll wish upon the moon Change will come, one day Someday soon...

No One Is Alone - Into the Woods

🏳️‍🌈

Mother cannot guide you, now your on your own. Only me beside you, still you're not alone. No one is alone. Truly, no one is alone…

People make mistakes Holding to their own Thinking they’re alone

Someone is on your side, someone else is not While we’re seeing our side, maybe we forgot They are not alone, no one is alone...

I Am Moana (Song of the Ancestors) - Moana

🏳️‍🌈 🤍 - it’s about the self-acceptance binch

Sometimes, the world seems against you The journey may leave a scar But scars can heal and reveal just Where you are

The people you love will change you The things you have learned will guide you And nothing on Earth can silence The quiet voice still inside you

I've delivered us to where we are I have journeyed farther I am everything I've learned and more Still it calls me

And the call isn't out there at all, it's inside me! It's like the tide, always falling and rising I will carry you here in my heart, you remind me That come what may I know the way

Show Yourself - Frozen 2

🏳️‍🌈 - this one was claimed immediately by the queer community and we all have a stake in it but i do want to point out that i got this from a LOT of 🤍 🖤 💜 💚

I have always been a fortress Cold secrets deep inside You have secrets too But you don't have to hide

I've never felt so certain All my life, I've been torn But I'm here for a reason Could it be the reason I was born? I have always been so different Normal rules did not apply Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?

Oh, show yourself Let me see who you are... Come to me now Open your door Don't make me wait One moment more!

(Come, my darling, homeward bound) I am found!

Transformation / Beauty and the Beast (Reprise) - Beauty and the Beast Broadway Production

🏳️‍🌈

We are home, we are where we shall be forever Trust in me, for you know I won’t run away from today This is all that I need, and all that I need to say Don’t you know how you’ve changed me? Strange how I finally see I found home, you’re my home, stay with me...

Finale / Let it Go - Frozen Broadway Production

🏳️‍🌈 this makes me bawl so it gets finale

There’s so much I longed to say Then say it all, beginning with today It’s like a dream I thought could never be Elsa, you’re free

Here we stand in the light of day Let the sun shine on

I take this warmth within and send it up above Goodbye to dark and fear, let’s fill this world with light and love And here surrounded by a family at least We’re never going back, the past is in the past

Let our true love go Let it go!

#disney #disney songs #queer #lgbt #lgbtq #mine

67 notes · View notes

jeongi · 5 years ago

Text

tell me no lies | jjk (m)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | ceo!jungkook x robber!reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 15.1k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | ceo au. criminal au. robbers au. angst. smut. minimal fluff.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. oral sex (f + m receiving), unprotected sex (pls use condoms u fools), creampie, gagging, hair pulling, fingering, dirty talk, biting/marking, mild spanking, choking, multiple smut scenes.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You chose to rob your boss, however; you never expected to fall in love with him.

↣ 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛 | this is part of the ‘under fire’ collab for @btssmutclub‘s summer project!

↣ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | tell me more lies

You can hear Jimin attempting to stifle his laughter behind a cough, his pink bangs being the only thing you can see of him from the ground. His attempt to do so is futile, and Jungkook’s glare only sears daggers at him before the doe-eyed boy is hovering above you, alarmed and equally bewildered.

You’re splayed onto the office floor playing possum, thanking the heat of the summer mixed with the beaming flare of fluorescent lights above you to have worked together in aid of a successful performance- conjuring up one single droplet of sweat to roll down your forehead. You know this ruse is beyond stupid, but if your luck holds out, you’re certain your plan will work out seamlessly.

“Are... you okay?” Jungkook asks, head tilted, genuine concern marked in the furrow of his eyebrows and an indecisive hand coming to rest on your arm. You almost huff in annoyance, trying to remember why in the world you agreed to do this (because this certainly was not in your itinerary for today). Of course, it was Jimin’s plan to fake a collapse- quite frankly a wonder on your end how he even managed to convince Namjoon and Yoongi to accompany you on this mission. Ramping up your acting skills, you muster whatever dignity you have remaining to sell this performance. With your eyes rolling back, a wrist coming up to your forehead and a dramatic sigh falling past your lips, you wail in fake pain.

“Jungkook, I-I don’t feel well at all, I think…I think—”

“You should go home if you’re feeling ill.”

“No!” Both you and Jimin shout in protest but your synchronicity only causes more suspicion to arise with another glare thrown at the pink-haired boy- this time from you.

You fake a cough. “No, no, I have a duty…as your uh, assistant, so a nurse or something will suffice just fine...”

Jungkook studies you with great intent, lips pursing when you send him a subtle stretch of your lips. Upon seeing your coy smize, his eyebrows relax as he swipes a tongue on the inside of his bottom lip- an effort to keep himself from chuckling. With a tilt of one eyebrow, he clears his throat as he speaks. “Well, the nearest hospital is an hour’s drive away…I think I have a first aid kit in my office. We’d better get you looked at there,” his voice is laden with sham worry. First aid for a faux faint. You almost snort at how convincing he’s trying to be, playing his part to his best efforts. Extending a welcoming hand towards you, he helps you off the floor and after another dramatic moment, you take it. He pulls you up gracefully and you don’t fail to take notice that he never seems to let the hand go as he leads you off the office level. Jimin only watches you from his desk.

An elevator ride and two flights of steps later, the pair of you confidently stride into Jungkook’s office. You’ve long since abandoned the medical spell charade, his hand releasing your own before he closes the door behind him. You sit on the edge of his desk, crossing your legs patiently, listening for the gentle click of the lock.

“We can’t be too long. I think they’re starting to catch on,” Jungkook says as he turns his attention to you, unbuckling his leather belt with an emphasized leisure. His white shirt is hugged against his taut chest, the faintest outline of his muscles shadowed against the sunlight beaming into the room. You grin and slide off the desk before flopping to your knees. You’ve done this countless times, more times than you can remember and although you have ulterior motives today, you still want him buried inside you. The thought is so alluring already, you nearly moan out loud. You can’t seem to recall the exact moment this had started but you know it had come a long time since it had. Perhaps sleeping with your boss while simultaneously planning to swindle him had started to slant the flow of time, skewing certain events together- you didn’t know, nor did you really want to think about it.

As Jungkook walks towards your eager figure, you’ve forgotten your train of thought, reaching for his belt instead. You forget things often when you’re with him. Pushing his hands aside, you unlatch the leather on your own. Jungkook watches you with intent, the slightest jut of his jaw as you slide the belt out of the loops and tug at his zipper. “I don’t mind that.” This response only makes him release a heavy breath from above you, a smile curving at the edge of his lips as he closes his eyes with a nod. You hate to admit the truth, knowing full well everyone in the office most definitely is acquainted with your little affair. Though to both of you, it has become much more than just that- hasn’t it? You brush off the thought.

Jungkook leans against his wide mahogany desk and helps you discard his pants. Just as the fabric falls past his knees, you take this opportunity to cling the plastic of his access card between the grasp of your second and third digit. It hangs by a singular lanyard clip, the young CEO being all too naive with valuable belongings; you can’t quite decide if he’s humble or too trusting. You feel the shame that you are amongst the people he must trust the most but you’ve endlessly tried to convince yourself that you’re doing this for a good reason. While his eyes remain closed, you unclip the keycard and slip it into the back pocket of your own pants. The card looks similar to yours and so, you replace his with your own as planned- the only difference being that his keycard gains exclusive access to his office. The guilt hits you once more, an afterthought of mindful reasoning behind your actions. Jungkook had become an addiction to you, your personal elixir that never seems to run out. It was truly a dynamic that had blindsided you completely. You’re sure if the others found out about this, you’d be at the mercy of your teammate’s ceaseless teasing and hazing. However there was no denying it, Jungkook had grown on you. Unexpected as it was, it was nevertheless welcome. You muse that it’s replicant of a modern-day Romeo and Juliet- a pair of forbidden lovers. But in this playscript, you’re not Jungkook’s fair sun that kills the envious moon; you’re merely the poison that takes his life. And with that notion, you return your gaze to his eyes, your thumbs skimming the waistband of his boxers.

Jungkook senses your hesitance, head tilting to the side as he brushes a thumb along your cheek. “What’s on your mind?”

Everything.

You bite your lip. “You, your cock...how much I want you.” Which isn’t a complete lie, you’re most definitely thinking about that as well- amongst other things. You kiss the growing tent within the fabric of his boxers and Jungkook’s fingers immediately gravitate to the lush of your hair, head rolling forward. You’re surprised to find him already hard against your touch, his striking member casting a frighteningly implicative bulge within the confinements of his boxers. You run your fingertips over the fabric, feeling the muted curves of his cock against your nails. A shiver ripples through him almost violently.

“You’re so pretty,” Jungkook mumbles, tilting his head down, eyes cast on you and awaiting the warmth of your ready mouth. The silver hoops hanging off his earlobes dangle, gleaming against the sunlight poking through his window blinds. He truly looks breathtaking like this, hair fluffy and curled- dark against his honey skin. You feel your chest swell, pushing the thoughts of your grand swindle to the back of your mind because for now, you must please this man. You find yourself in brief reminiscence, reminding yourself of the first time you were on your knees before him like this- recalling the zeal in his actions months ago when he first demanded your intimacy. His face wears a look you’ve become accustomed to seeing fairly often, even more so given your current endeavours. It is trademark Jungkook: a drop in his near impenetrable defences, a true vulnerability. One that as of late, you’ve discovered your proficiency in routinely exploiting. You let his cock spring free from the boxers he’s still adorning, your eyes meeting his once more. Hair parted in the centre, his dark curls cling to the nape of his neck and hangs over his forehead; you reckon Jungkook needs a haircut soon.

He draws a hiss between his teeth as you trace a vein up his shaft with your tongue, his fingers gripping tighter into your hair. The point of your tongue nudges against the underside of his shaft and Jungkook can only curse silently under his breath. It’s when you fill your mouth with his girth that he lets out a whimper, capturing the plump of his bottom lip between his teeth. “Fuck, _____.” He stutters, along with his hips as they push forward to fill your tongue even further. Your hands instinctively grabble for his waist, fingertips digging into his hips as he thrusts deeper. When you feel him hit the back of your throat, your nose brushing against the hem of his shirt, you gag. Your throat clenches around him with the movement, his hips stilling as he feels you swallow again. Jungkook groans, throwing his head back, continuing a pattern of thrusts to break more gags out of you.

This time, he doesn’t make an effort to pull out, head falling forward to take in the sight of you stuffed to the brim of your lips with his cock. His breath hitches as he feels you swallow around him, teeth sucking in his bottom lip as a thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. Sliding your hand from his waist, down to his scrotum, you gently grasp them in your hold and Jungkook nearly loses his vision from the feeling. He rolls his hips out once more, granting you the privilege of air before he’s stuffing his cock right back into your mouth. “Y-yeah, just like that baby, so pretty with your lips around my cock- fuck.” He grunts, hips gyrating between shallow and deep thrusts. You feel strings of saliva spilling out of the corner seams of your mouth, your throat constricting around his head as he pushes to the back of your gullet. Jungkook pulls out only when he sees the whites of your eyes glaze over with a sheen of fresh tears. You gasp, gratefully with air but with a single swirl of your tongue, you take him in again.

His grip on your hair is tight, eyes locked to yours. Jungkook pushes your head along with the tempo of his hips and you can only moan against his shaft. The vibrations edge him closer to his undoing but Jungkook doesn’t want to finish in your mouth; he wants to feel you. Releasing his grip from your hair, he pulls out of the harness of your mouth, dragging you up to place a messy kiss onto your lips. He doesn’t care for the coat of saliva messily sheened around your mouth as he fervently kisses against it. One hand placed on your waist, and the other cupped to your cheek, he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth before gently biting down. He kisses you once more, soft this time and you can’t help the small yelp that escapes you when he twists you until your back is flush against his back. He grazes the shell of your ear, fingers playing with the waistband of your pants.

“Can I take these off?” You moan in approval, eyes widening as he practically rips the fabric down your legs- along with your panties. You’re now bare, ready for him to indulge in you as you’re urged to bend over his desk with your chest squished against the wooden top. Jungkook skims down your body, a finger tracing down the divot of your spine to the curve of your ass. You shiver against the touch, your lids dropping as you feel a hand grab at the meat of your right cheek. “Beautiful.” He crouches to his knees, eye level with your exposed and sopping cunt. Using both hands, he spreads your ass, humming in appreciation before he’s tentatively dragging his finger between your folds. You’re already so wet, he doesn’t even need to acknowledge it out loud, instead, steadying a digit into you. You exhale a very long breath, resting your cheek against the surface of his desk as he pumps a few times, adding another finger. The stretch of them fills you with greater need and when Jungkook begins a scissoring motion, you whine, pushing your hips back for more.

“J-jungkook...please,” you beg him, eyes rolling back when he alternates between scissors and powerful drags. He shushes you, instead, lips puckering to kiss your outer thigh before softly biting on the flesh. You don’t expect it to turn you on as much as it does, something about it so carnal, it leaves the wind knocked out of your lungs. And then he’s soothing his bite with a drag of his tongue, slowly, consciously moving closer to your needy heat with his fingers continuing to curl into you. You grip the edge of his desk, waiting to feel the delve of his tongue lick you clean but instead, he retrieves his fingers, standing up to his feet. The whine that leaves you rumbles a chuckle from his chest and when you make an effort to lift your body from his desk, an assertive hand keeps you back down.

“Be an angel and cum on my dick first, baby.” You clench- seemingly around nothing and that frustrates you even more. You can’t be frustrated too long, not when you feel the warmth of his hard cock slap against your ass. His broad hands hold the base before he’s nudging your soaked lips apart with the tip of his cock.

However, just as he’s about to push the blunt head past your folds, the rattle of your phone blares disturbs your heated moment, followed by a soft pound at Jungkook’s door. You want to audibly groan in annoyance but you find yourself unable to expel your vexation as he places an apologetic kiss to your shoulder. “Shit,” he speaks under his breath. “Sorry, babe.” His warm breath tickles your skin as he whispers, clearing his throat to mask the moan that nearly escapes him when you purposefully sway your hips against his shaft. It’s mostly out of frustration. The sound that follows the slap to your cheek echoes across the room and you bite your tongue because surely, whoever is outside of the door had heard it. Who were you kidding? They’d probably heard all of it from the beginning. The warmth of Jungkook’s body leaves you as he searches for his discarded clothing. You do the same, reaching down for your pants as your fingers swiftly move to silence your ringing phone.

As you glance down towards your phone, tugging the pants up your legs, Namjoon’s name flashes upon the screen. You decide to decline for now, ready to deliver your successful purloin in person instead. Although, this isn’t even the final heist. You feel a pull at your arm, ripping your gaze away from your phone and your mouth is instantly caught by Jungkook’s. Your eyes flutter closed, the kiss unexpected against your lips. Of all that could have captured your heart, he’s the starcrossed tale you’ve kept hidden for too long; your own Montague. He’s pulling away from your mouth all too quickly, now taking your hand in his before placing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats against the skin and when he raises his head, you stifle a giggle at his swollen pout, a tint of cherry red marking it from your own lipstick. You swipe your thumb over the pillows of his lips, showing him your stained thumb as you pull away. Jungkook’s doe eyes are wide as realization daunts on him, but soon they’re settling into half-moons, crows feet forming by the outer corners of his eyelids as he simply beams a set of perfect teeth. “I’ll call you tonight?” You offer a smile back, followed by a curt nod. Of course, he can call you tonight, he’s called you almost every night this week.

Releasing the grasp on your hand, he walks over to his door, carding his slender fingers through his hair and you mimic his actions, smoothing your hair down in hopes that it doesn’t look completely fucked. As you walk out of Jungkook’s office, not bearing to make eye contact with whoever decided to interrupt your unholy rendezvous, your thumb is punching in your passcode to your phone before you’re texting Jimin that you’ve successfully gotten the keycard. Namjoon calls once more at the end of your shift and this time you pick up, ready to deliver the good news.

“Where did you go? We lost track of you- is everything okay?” His baritone voice rings through with the slightest tone of panic. You sigh, shrugging on the strap of your purse as you rush down the flight of stairs that lead to the parking garage. You can faintly see the shoulder of Jimin poking from behind the wall as you reach the very bottom. He’s leaned against the door, head twisting in your direction when he hears the scuffle of your shoes and the echo of your voice.

“Everything's fine,” you state, letting Jimin open the door for you. You’re in a rush as the pair of you make way towards his silver Sedan. He watches as you extract the plastic keycard from your back pocket, a grin beaming at the revelation. “I got what I came for.”

All you wanted was to pay off your goddamn student loans.

That’s all any of you had ever wanted.

It was no secret when people thought of you, they immediately put the five of you together. You were joint by the hip, each other’s parity since freshman year of high school. Hell, you had even gotten into the same damn university- your legacy moving on even after you graduated. Namjoon, the medical student, Yoongi, the computer science genius, Jimin the—

“What did you take in college again?” You ask Jimin as you pull yourself out of your own reverie. You’ve been zoning in and out of the present, your bottom lip surely bruised from how much you’ve been chewing through it. Jimin is sat on Yoongi’s bed across the room from you, and you’re comfortably sunken into a red bean bag chair as your fingers mindlessly play with a Hoberman sphere. He sighs with such a magnitude of exasperation, you can faintly feel his breath hit you.

“For the hundredth time, _____- I took forensic sciences- why do you make me repeat that every few months?” You simply enjoy teasing him because you know he only took it for half a semester. He rolls his eyes at your grin, attention returning to the copy of Romeo and Juliet in his right hand. Oh, the irony. You’re almost positive he’s not even reading it. Namjoon, on the other hand, is restless, pacing back and forth behind Yoongi who is huddled over his desk. His mop of blond hair stick over his chair as he diligently works through a list of equations and codes flashing on his computer screen. Jungkook’s keycard lays beside the keyboard, a carbon copy card placed right next to it.

“He’s gonna find out soon y’know- that his card is missing? He’s not a complete idiot.” You scrunch the sphere in your fingers before retracting it once again. Namjoon simply ignores you. It’s only been a week since you’ve taken it.

“That’s why we’re making a replica and besides, the guy’s office has been unlocked the entire week- he’s too trusting.” Jimin chimes in unnecessarily and you feel that pang of guilt settle back in. You too had thought the same when you had initially stolen it. Though, Jimin insists that you’ve simply “borrowed” it. You’ll give it back as soon as Yoongi pens a duplicate.

“Can you guys just stop talking?” Namjoon snaps, eyes narrowing towards the computer screen as he leans over Yoongi’s shoulder. He’s tense, has been the whole time you’ve had this meetup and you wonder if he’s just as nervous as you are now that your plans are about to be set into motion. Tomorrow. The heist is tomorrow. “How much longer?” His impatience oozes from him and you watch as he squints at the lines of numbers and letters strewn together on the screen. You scoff, though you wouldn’t put it past Namjoon to actually know what the hell all the coding meant- he’s far too brilliant for his own good. He was the one who started this whole stratagem anyway, cultivated a ploy for you guys to make easy money. First, it was RED Hotel, founded by CEO Kim Seokjin. Although an honest man, his partner had been laundering most of their funds towards their own personal gain. By the power of Namjoon’s mind and Yoongi’s ability to hack almost any system, your team had managed to successfully swipe the illegal funds.

Yoongi huffs a breath, shrugging Namjoon off his shoulder as he continues typing away, programming the empty card. “I don’t know, you’re breathing down my neck and it’s a million fucking degrees in here- I might faint.”

“Joon, will you just relax? Let him be in his element.” Jimin prompts, hopping off the bed as he places a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. He’s much too short to reach it comfortably, having to slant his torso and stretch as far as he can. The image makes you giggle while you watch them bicker back and forth for a few more moments before you’re submerged back into your thoughts.

“You know, when I told you to shut up, I didn’t actually mean it.” You’re pulled away from your thoughts again as Namjoon’s coffee breath hits you. Lowering his gaze, he focuses in on the toy in your hands before he’s crouching in front of you. A hand comes to your shoulder in comfort. “Please tell me what’s wrong?” You think he sees the gulp drift down your throat, your eyes growing visibly wider. Namjoon sighs, fingers squeezing your shoulder. “C’mon, you’ve been quiet all day, what’s going on?”

And before you can even process what’s coming out of your mouth, you’re saying it. “Don’t you think there’s a better way?” Oh God, the silence. You can feel the head of Jimin turn towards you and Yoongi’s as his chair squeaks with a swivel.

“What?” The hand on your shoulder drops beside him and you force your gaze to meet Namjoon’s. You don’t know why you continue, but you do, unable to stop the words rolling off your tongue.

“To make money,” you continue. “Don’t you think there’s another way?”

Namjoon lets out a scoff, raising to his feet as his lips press together in an attempt to already calm himself down. “Like what?” The question is rhetorical and it slaps against you, echoing against the walls. You swear you see Jimin flinch from the corner of your eye.

You try again. “I-I don’t know,” You too raise to your feet, resting the Hoberman sphere on the night table beside you. “We could start our own business or something! Namjoon, I’m tired of this. It’s exhausting, and not to mention completely wrong.” When you look at him, he’s seething, the faintest flare to his nostrils. Your eyes flicker towards Jimin who takes a step towards you but you stop him with a raise of your hand.

“Do you think we have time to build a business?” Namjoon scoffs again. “_____, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” You regret opening your mouth instantly because even you know that there’s more reasoning behind your outburst. “Did you forget why we’re doing this? Who we’re doing this for? Does Hoseok-”

“Hoseok wouldn’t want this for him!” You shrill louder than expected, another wave of guilt washing over you for screaming at your best friend. “What were we going to do? Miraculously pay off his medical bills and expect him to be cured? Fuck, Joon, even the doctors don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.” You find yourself panting as the words leave you, fingers shooting up to card through your hair. Another silence falls against you, thick against your entire body. The air feels as if you could jackhammer through it with no avail.

“We’re not giving up on him.” Yoongi is the one who speaks this time and your eyes immediately drop to the floor in defeat. “We’ve never given up on each other.” His words hit you like a kamikaze, heavy against your chest. You feel as if you’ve just been punched by him, and you’d reckon actually getting punched by Yoongi would be less painful than his words. The lump in your throat becomes seemingly harder to swallow. You know they’re right. And you know you sound like a shitty friend. All of this is had always been for Hoseok.

What had started off as a simple heist, a small gathering of five lost college students freshly graduated and balls-deep in student debt, swiftly evolved into so much more. Hoseok. The fifth of your group had gotten sick. Really sick. It had transformed into something far more personal, a change of events that wholly challenged your capabilities- giving you new pursuits to follow. After months of experimental medication and surgeries, there were still no answers as to what exactly happened to him- and alas, the bills to save your best friend had inevitably piled up. And since, you’ve made a pact, an oath to protect your friend and each other, together.

Namjoon speaks again. “What’s really bothering you?” His question grips your core and slams you to the ground because you hate that he knows something more is wrong. They’re your best friends after all, you shouldn’t be hiding things from them.

“Nothing. I’m just getting cold feet I guess…” You finally force yourself to look up. Namjoon’s jaw is jutted, lips pressed in a firm line. “I’m nervous that something will go wrong.”

“I’ve blueprinted and revised the plan for months, any potential wrong- I’ve covered it. You know this,” he steps forward, both hands now coming to rest on your shoulders has his eyes invade yours in search of something, anything. “So what’s going on?” You nervously glance at Jimin for what seems like the hundredth time within the past however long this shitshow began. Truth be told, he’s the only one who knows; he’d caught your secret before it had even begun. Jimin warms you with a reassuring smile, egging you to relay your confession. Perhaps he too knew that you were deeper in this situation with Jungkook than you had initially thought. You brace yourself, taking into consideration that you’re an adult and you have control over your own life. You could almost laugh at your own thoughts, who were you kidding?

Inhaling a sharp breath, you give yourself a nod. “Jungkook,” you start, gaze switching from Namjoon to Jimin and then Yoongi. “I-I...uh,” Oh no. “He...we...” You need not finish the words, it hits them. Namjoon more than Yoongi, who simply frowns with a shrug of his shoulders as if to say ‘it could be worse’. Namjoon opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it, flabbergasted by your unofficial confession. Your eyes are pinned to the ground, feeling his hold on you drop once more. You truly wish the floor would swallow you in this moment. You clench your fists, pressing your lips together.

“You’ve been...” He presses his lips together before starting again. “With him?” It’s so awkward, you now wish the floor would swallow Namjoon too. “I told you to flirt with the guy, not fuck him.” His words slice through and you urge yourself to meet his gaze, a scoff falling past your lips.

“What exactly does ‘distracting him’ mean to you, Namjoon?” That’s all it had started as. A distraction. Perhaps for the both of you, as unconventional as it was, and now...now—

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Namjoon is seething and for what exact reason, you’re unsure of. He drags his palms over his face, an exasperated sigh leaving him when Yoongi cuts in, voice stoic, cool as ice.

“Huh...talk about sleeping with the enemy…” God, you’d like a permanent leave of absence- from life. Your cheeks are surely painted crimson with sheer chagrin, forefinger and thumb coming up to stroke along the bridge of your nose as the weight of the situation becomes a reality.

Now Jimin is speaking up for the first time. “The guy’s hot, have you seen him?” He throws his arms up in defence when Namjoon seers him with a glare. “I had to sit next to him in class for a whole year while trying to convince myself I wasn’t gay… I’m still not completely sure I’m not to be honest and besides, the plan is still moving forward- we’re just a little on edge...all of us.” You remind yourself to stop teasing Jimin about being pointless like you always do. You shoot him a grateful smile. He’s definitely not wrong about the nerves; granted, you’re more nervous than anyone else.

Namjoon clenches his jaw, speaking slowly, cautiously. “You need to get it through your head that with or without you, this is happening. There’s more at stake here than your little…fling.” You know he hates what he’s said because he draws a hiss between his teeth, eyes softening when he offers a tight-lipped smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he must’ve hoped though. Somehow, the word ‘fling’ stings you, wondering if that’s how Jungkook saw things too.

But you can’t shut up the part of you that might have thought he’s right, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Somehow, you’re filled with a second wind of sorts, devoid of uncertainty. You know yourself. You know yourself well enough to know that you’re not going to turn your back on Hoseok- especially not over a boy you’ve only known a few months. You just couldn’t do that.

With a nod of your head, the stiff tension that choked the room almost evaporates as Namjoon grins, hand coming up to roughly tousle your hair. You whine audibly, slapping his hand away before the vibration of your phone tears your attention away.

It’s Jungkook.

5:34pm [Jungkook]: Let me take you out tonight.

And suddenly, just like that, your certainty vanishes.

You catch yourself musing about what it would be like had Hoseok not gotten sick. Would everything be normal? Was there even such a thing as a normal? You’re a criminal and although Namjoon would reprimand you for even thinking that, you know that you’re right. He’d rather label you lot as “vigilantes,” before Yoongi’s bound to cut him off with a lengthy speech about labels having been rendered useless in today’s society. ‘If we’re going to be criminals, we’re gonna be lawful ones,’ he’d once said, followed by a vocal discourse on being allowed to be whoever the hell you wanted to be.

Following that, with Jimin’s help, you landed a job with an old classmate of his, the guy being Jeon Jungkook himself. The CEO had hired you personally to work as his assistant at GFC, his film production company. You had even joked with the others that it was security money, just enough to pay off your living expenses. What you hadn’t expected was a proposal from Namjoon and Jimin. They had “coincidentally” been planning this for months- you’d even guess close to a year. Through the grapevine, Jimin had heard of a partnership that had been manifesting for ages. A massive merger with another production company called Gemini Pictures. It would launch GFC as one of the biggest film production titans in the business and if sold, it would bring you millions ... $2.5 million to be exact.

It was certainly more than enough to pay off your student loans, and it gave the slightest glimmer of hope towards a potential cure for Hoseok’s affliction. How could you ever say no to that? It most certainly had not been in your interests to get involved with Jungkook more than just as his assistant. You hadn’t planned to start an intimate relationship, nor had you expected to feel more. Did you feel more? Your head is beginning to pound, your chest tightening as the feeling of disgrace rumbles through you once again. What were you even doing with yourself?

You shake your head and close your eyes tight, trying to force the thoughts out. They first persist, but then eventually yield, a certain gloomy calmness filling you once more. This isn’t exactly a date-night headspace you want to be in right now… But it may be time to get your shit together.

Jungkook picks you up at eight o’clock on the dot. You can’t control your laughter when you see him donning a heavily patterned blue Hawaiin shirt to match his white shorts. His hair is wavy, dark against the setting sun and he’s grinning at you, the faintest indents of his dimples marking his cheeks. He did tell you to dress ‘extra’ casual tonight and you still don’t have a clue as to where you’re going.

Your leg bounces as he drives you to the mysterious destination. The soft thrum of jazz oozes through the car speakers as Jungkook’s fingers drum against his steering wheel with the beat. You twiddle your fingers on your lap, freezing as you feel the palm of his hand rest on the expanse of your exposed thigh. Normally, you’d be itching for him to raise them a little higher, to feel his slender fingers against you but nothing about this particular action infers sensuality. It’s a welcome motion, and you feel the all-too-familiar butterflies flutter once more. When you relax your shoulders, your head twists to view him. Though it’s darkening, the light from the lamp posts you’re driving through brush Jungkook’s face in ribbons. The shadows outline the curve of his ‘J’ nose and the sharp cut of his jaw. His eyes are focused on the road, a soft smile painted warmly across his face as he senses your blatant ogle.

“You’re tense,” he says, giving your bare leg a gentle squeeze. “Something on your mind?”

“S-sorry,” you stutter, ripping your gaze away and dropping to your lap. “This is just nice...really nice.” You admit, silently thanking the coat of shadows that overtake the sure blush that’s painted your cheeks. Your earlier thoughts seem to return, sitting at the back of your mind but they’re soon interrupted as the car rolls to a smooth stop. A low thump of carnival music is heard, followed by the painful shriek of children screeching with joy. Your head instantly shoots up, your vision encompassed by the sight of colourful lights, people, tents and a giant Ferris wheel beaming a million watts of light into the moon-kissed night. Jungkook puts the car in gear, pulling the parking brake before he unclips his seatbelt.

“Well,” he exhales almost nervously as he slowly turns to you. “We’ve arrived.” The cheeky bastard. You don’t answer, preoccupied with awe at the summer festivities ahead of you. Pausing for a moment, Jungkook regards you, a brief smile adorning his face before he exits the car and moves to the passenger side. Ever the perfect gentleman, he opens the door for you, and you’re hit by the scent of popcorn and fried goods as he helps you step out of the car. Your stomach immediately grumbles and you’re certain he had heard it too. You also note that Jungkook really enjoys holding your hand, never releasing it since helping you out of his car. When he does release it, he’s itching to touch you again, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you in for a kiss against your temple.

You take in every bit of the environment around you, the obnoxiously loud music that blares from the game booths you pass by, the smell of deep-fried corn dogs and the various costume figures prancing around the fairground. When he pays for your tickets (much to your dismay and resistance), he makes a beeline towards the burger vendor. “Not only did I hear your stomach let out an imprisoned Wookiee— I felt it transfer through your bones to me.” He’s beaming at you when you throw your head back in laughter.

That’s not the only way Jungkook manages to win over your heart throughout the night. He quite literally wins you over once more with a stuffed penguin, spending what felt like an eternity going after every 10-year old that challenged him at bottle tossing. Six games later, you have a penguin the size of a toddler in your arms, and a Jungkook around your waist.

“What should we name it?” You scoop a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into your mouth as you two walk through the fairground hand in hand.

“Lyara,” Jungkook replies simply.

You cock your head to the side. “Lyara? Oddly...human.” your eyes narrow towards him. “Is that the name of your secret mistress or something? Why Lyara?” You jab, a grin beaming from you as he laughs. You see the familiar indents crinkling around the outer corners of his eyes while he shakes his head no.

“What kind of pervert would name their kid after their mistress?” You’re laughing again, shoving another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth as you nod in agreeance. He shrugs. “I dunno, it’s pretty. For a future daughter.” You pause in your steps, arching a brow his way.

“You’re telling me this penguin is our kid?” He’s laughing again, this time his head of curls bouncing with the shake of his shoulders.

Unfortunately, all you manage to win Jungkook is a bright blue plastic ring. Regardless, he wears it for the rest of the night, demanding that it matches his shirt. The guilt brewing in your chest foams as he joins you in your second ice cream cone of the night. You have an inkling that he senses something is wrong, not letting you stray far into your thoughts as he sneaks you behind tents to secretly make out. It’s when his fingers brush over the front of your jeans shorts that you start tugging him away from the shadows, insisting that you’ve had enough public sex for your own good. Of course, he insists that it’s only public if people see. You’re sure that he’s wrong.

The final event Jungkook takes you to is the great behemoth of a Ferris wheel whose lights illuminate the entire fairground. You don’t feel as if you deserve it when the night’s fireworks pop and flitter just as you reach the top. But you find yourself unable to watch them as Jungkook’s fingers weave into your hair lovingly, pushing aside stray clumps and tickling your scalp before placing a kiss against your lips.

It’s a welcome kiss, sprinkled by a heavy sense of displacement. You find yourself asking if you’re genuinely present. There’s no sexual intent behind this one, only knocking the breath out of from its rawness. He pulls away, forehead resting against yours.

“The moon’s beautiful tonight, but… I don’t think it’s the prettiest thing tonight,” he says as his eyes rest on yours. You’re speechless for a moment, eyes wide and blinking towards him before you’re breaking into a fit of laughter. His cheesy antics get the best of you, unable to stop the bubble of giggles spilling out of you. Too goddamn cheesy. Jungkook laughs with you, leaning in for another kiss and your teeth clash as you both grin, lips eventually finding each other.

The ride starts to move again.

It begins to drizzle when you reach the parkade of the carnival and by the time you reach your house, Jungkook is pulling out your penguin in defence against the heavy sheets of rain. You both run to your porch in giggles, Jungkook content to walk you to your door. Once in the shelter of your front porch, he hands you back the stuffed animal, tightly clutching it between your arm and your chest. Lyara is drenched at the moment- but so are the two of you. His dark hair sticks to his forehead and runs droplets down his neck. Despite it all, he’s still incarnate beauty.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, taking you by surprise. What could he be possibly thanking you for? You capture your bottom lip as you smile, feeling the tickle of wet hair drop down the sides of your cheek.

“No, thank you.” Standing on your tiptoes, you’re quick to peck his cheek. “Tonight was...magical.” You’re trying to lag, not wanting this night to end. As you say your last goodbyes, Jungkook places a kiss against your forehead, holding you in place as if he’s hesitant to let go. He says his final farewell and you’re jiggling your keys into the lock before Jungkook is twisting you around to grab your face and kiss you hard against his lips.

You feel as though you’ve been transported years ago, to some now well forgotten high school memory. The electricity is the same, the spark that draws you to him is all too familiar. Surely, some replicant of young teenage love. From forth the fatal loins... You can’t help but become fully entangled with his love; it’s soft, sweet and drips of innocence. A dauntless love, unafraid of any future so long as it was with you. It slowly sears you inside but you can’t escape him. You deepen the kiss, swept away by the affection he so unashamedly provides. You also find difficulty escaping the memory of his fingers hovering over your cunt earlier that night behind the tents.

You want him.

With one arm looping around his neck, the other pushes the stuffed penguin between your chests as your lips latch onto each other for dear life. In your haste to open the door, you both clunk into your apartment, laughter bubbling from the both of you as your keys hit the ground with a loud clank along with the soaked penguin plushie. As you close the front door behind you, he’s pushing you against it, mouth on yours completely relentless. His hands roam across the side of your body, hitching one leg up to his torso as the other hand stays planted against your cheek. He tastes of strawberries and mint.

You squeal as Jungkook lifts you completely against the door, your legs circling around his waist as his arms support under your ass. He begins walking and in what direction, he’s even unsure of.

“Bedroom,” you guide him and he only hums, following the guidance of your gentle directions. When he reaches your bed, he’s flicking the light switch on and closing the door behind him with the persuasion of his feet. He staggers over to your bed, plopping you onto the mattress as his lips never fail to leave your own. He hovers above you, torso nudges your legs open as he places himself between them.

His movements that follow aren’t like before, no, nothing like it at all; this had no hallmark trade of frantic hands grasping at too-tight clothing, moving desperately across from each other’s panting bodies. This time it’s far more careful, far more calculated...far more loving. What’s more, is that you find yourself enjoying this to a highly exceptional degree. Jungkook takes him time, lips on every inch of skin that he undresses. He starts with the slow unbuttoning of your shirt, moving onto the latch of your bra before he’s already he’s got you bare underneath him with nothing but a thin barrier of your panties. His fingertips meander across your inviting curves, lips following the trails that his soft hands set. You do the same for him, taking your time to remove the blue Hawaiian shirt he so proudly wore tonight, lips never leaving his. But when they do, a sigh falls from you because he’s latched his mouth around one of your breasts. You’re both now only separated by the fabric of your undergarments, bodies already coated with a sticky damp from the rain and the beginning of sweat. You can already feel Jungkook’s length press against you as he moves onto your other breast, tongue circling over your erect nipple before he’s grazing his teeth over it. As he does this, a hand glides down your torso, past the ridges of your ribcage, down to the curve of your hips until he’s just barely ghosting over your dripping heat. Unlatching his mouth, he grins to look at you, a sly finger pushing the fabric aside before it’s teasingly running up your very wet slit.

“So wet already?” He hums in appreciation. You blush at his words, a moan escaping you when he purposely dabs a fingertip over your throbbing clit. “So beautiful.” His mouth is back on yours, hot and powerful, granting access to your tongue with a swipe of his own over the seams of your lips. Though fervour, the kisses remain gentle, patient as his hands roam up and down your sides. You’re only losing your mind when he’s detaching his lips to suckle against the skin just under your jaw. He does not abandon a single inch of you with his mouth as he skims down your body. From your neck, he’s licking down through the delve of your breasts before he’s kissing and licking down past your navel. You squirm underneath him but he holds you in place, broad hands clipping your hips back as he moves in between your thighs. You can’t even imagine how soaked you truly are in this moment, not when he nips the skin of your inner thighs with his teeth, soothing the bites with kisses and licks. Nothing about it is painful, only an enhancement to your already mind-fogging arousal. Your breaths cut deeply into the air, chest rising and falling with the beat of your thumping heart. You feel the graze of his nose bump against your clothed cunt, a whimper leaving you when the flat of his tongue is hotly placed against the white fabric.

“J-jungkook…” You can’t decide if you want to look, or squeeze your eyes shut to keep yourself from coming already. You choose the latter, not trusting yourself to look. You can already feel it, every brush of his mouth and hands only shooting straight to your clit with that familiar tingle. You feel his teeth capture the hem of your underwear, as he pulls it down your right leg with the tug of his mouth. It’s tantalizingly slow, left hand hooking against the other side to aid in disrobing before you’re laid unclad before him. He hovers over your heat, hot breath fanning over your needy cunt. It ripples a shudder through you, chest deeply rising and falling as licks a stroke over the folds of your outer labia. “Fuck,” you whisper, fingers snaking into his hair as he continues his teasing. You jut your hip up to no avail, his powerful arms holding them hostage to the mattress underneath you.

He simply spreads you further, your cunt glistening for his taking. “What a pretty sight.” His words send an inferno through your chest, a rasp attached to the need his voice. You gasp, hips involuntarily snapping up in his hold as the tip of his tongue lightly flicks against your clit. Closing your eyes, you release a deep breath, licking your lips as he goes in for another kitten lick. Your fingers tighten their grip in his hair, an encouraging push holding him further into your cunt. He knows how much he’s driving you crazy, relenting into your sighs and moans as he finally circles a tongue around your bead. You feel a hint of a smirk against your heat as he feels you physically shudder underneath him. Your toes are curling when he dives in again, this time his tongue steady against your clit, relentless and with a pressure that leaves you arching your back for more. His swirling tongue alternates between flicks and sucks, taking the entirety of your swollen bundle of nerves into his mouth as his tongue shallowly fucks your hole. You’re a moaning mess underneath his mouth, twisting and turning in his grasp until you feel as if you’re hurting his scalp from how tight you’re gripping his hair. He’s not complaining one bit, simply humming against your heat as he slurps, licks and sucks your sensitive bead. You feel it bubble in your chest, every curl of his tongue pushing a tightness into your chest. It grows with each flick, each dab of friction until you’re coming undone underneath him. A whiny, shuddery puddle of limps in his hold as he continues licking you clean through your orgasm. You don’t know what’s different about this time, your orgasm clinging onto your bones as you linger in your high. When Jungkook pulls away, mouth and chin shining with your arousal, you feel a shiver of cool air hit your clit as goosebumps form on the surface of your skin. He kisses the top of your thigh, eyes levelling with yours as he beams a grin.

“Good?” When you nod, he’s grabbing your legs and encouraging you to flip over to your stomach. You let him take control, twisting your body until your chest is flat against the mattress and your ass is out for him in a presentation of sorts. You yelp when he spanks you, the echo of the noise filling the room before the sting is eased with a soft knead from his hand. Spreading your cheeks apart with his broad hands, you can hear him curse under his breath before he’s dipping to press a kiss to your shoulder blade. “You want me, baby?” You can only whimper in response, following a swivel of your hips to indicate just how badly you want him to fill you. He doesn’t leave the absence of your back, one hand pushing your hair away from your neck as the other is lining himself to your sex. His tip is already sticky against your slit and he rubs it over your folds a few times before he’s pushing into you. You both groan, feeling the depths of each other as Jungkook kisses your neck, your shoulders as he’s inching into you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, breathing laboured as his girth fills you to the hilt.

You’ve come to realize your greed with Jungkook’s cock as each ridge hits every curve of your walls with unexplainable bliss. As his hips begin a steady rock, his chest flush against your back. He’s biting down on the flesh of your shoulder- gentle, with a tingle of his tongue soothing across the skin. That’s when you feel a free hand grab a fistful of your hair, pulling it in his hold so you’re forced to twist your head for him to place a heated kiss against your lips. It’s sloppy and hits the corner your mouth more than anything but there’s something so divine about his want to feel your lips as he’s thrusting into you. He fucks you like this, his guttural moans and breathy curses chanted into your ear. It’s when he yanks your hair back that you’re forced to sit up on your calves, back still against his chest. He releases your hair, instead circling the arm around your chest as his other hand moves down to your mound. The pads of his fingertips find your swollen clit, hips continuing a gyrating pace as his fingers caress the bundle of nerves. You’re a mess in his arms, completely given to his touch- overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers on your clit and his dick rocking into your repeatedly. You moan, curse and whimper as his lips latch around the skin of your neck while he fucks you. His mouth suctions to your neck, leaving a soothing sting as he marks you with paintings of purple bruises. “Mine,” you can hear him say. “All fucking mine.” Your eyes roll back, leaning against him as he has his way with you. He places several marks, one just under your jaw, by your collarbone until your neck is a mosaic of lovebites done by the artist himself, Jeon Jungkook.

You come undone once more like this, clenching hard around him as a final swipe of his fingers have your walls spasm around his girth. You’re crying out loud against him, shaking as he has you twist your head again to place a kiss against your lips. Jungkook’s not done with you yet, now encouraging you lay on your back. He pulls your legs up, resting them onto the crease of his elbow before he’s sinking into you again, the new angle hitting differently. You can finally see the level of sweat built onto his skin, his hair damp and twisted over his eyes. His teeth are gritted, veins in his neck prominent as he begins another pace of his hips into you. “Fuck- you’re so fucking beautiful and tight- wet...I-” He’s spewing nonesense, so lost in you and unable to not taste you. He dips in for another kiss while he fucks you like that. When he pulls away, you feel a broad hand hover over your throat.

Of every sexual partner you’ve had, it’s only Jungkook you’ve let have his way with you like this, raw and unforgiving. It fills you with emotion, near tears as you feel the warmth of his palm press against the base of your neck, fingers gripping. Your fingers instantly latch around his choking arm for support, feeling every groove and ridge of his veins running up the flesh. You feel the air escape you, only enhancing the feel of his cock pistoning into you with great speed. You look at him, face flushed, beads of sweat dribbling down his forehead and so much lust in his eyes, it forces you to circle your legs around his torso to pull him closer. The fingers around your throat tightens, lips hovering above yours before he’s pressing feverish kisses against your lips.

“Baby, I’m gonna c-cum,” he admits and you can tell he’s losing control as his thrusts become sloppier, grasp around your neck also loosening. For the third time that night, you come again. This time, you feel a bead of a tear stream past the corner of your eye, rolling into your ear from the feeling of your third orgasm. From how hard you clench around him, Jungkook comes shortly after. His second painting of the evening being that of his cum spurting against your inner walls. You feel it, hot and sticky- moaning as he continues to messily thrust after his own high. Releasing your neck in his hold, he kisses you with such great need, you’re winded, arms scrambling to hold him against you. Your lips find each other, soft and sweet as you cradle your bodies in each other’s holds for as long as you possibly can.

“I love you,” he breathes, a kiss placed onto the tip of your nose. You don’t expect the words to come out of his mouth, frankly only thinking he’s said this because you’ve just had the best sex in your sexual endeavours thus far. But you love him too- that much you can’t deny. As fucked up as it is, Jungkook had become your safe haven, a person to feel your best self with. With him, there was no talk about your next loot, no generalized overview of your group. With him, you were an individual, a person of value just on your own. To him, you were already his Astraea.

With that, you smile, bumping your nose against his as you pull him against your mouth once again. “I love you too.”

You fall asleep to the soft pitter-patter of the rain that hits against your rooftop and the warmth of Jungkook’s body pressed against you.

When morning comes, Jungkook takes you again. He wakes you with a gentle flurry of featherlike kisses to your shoulder and back, a hand skimming down your bare arm. He fucks you on your sides, your back against his chest as he hooks a leg over his arm to thrust into you more comfortably. You both come undone within minutes, still sensitive from the night before and when he’s pulling out, you’re twisting your body to meet his gaze. His doe eyes gleam, lips stretching into a lazy smile as he takes your hand in his.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he greets you, the thin line of his dimples marking the edge of his mouth. His face is slightly swollen, cheeks rosy from his orgasm two minutes ago. You smile back, raising your intertwined fingers to places a kiss against the back of his hand.

“Good morning, you nymph.” He chuckles, wholeheartedly, his chest flexing underneath the vibrations of his angelic laugh before he’s yawning. You yawn shortly after, something about the old legend of soulmates yawning at the same time coming into the conversation. You’re not sure how long you talk in bed, his fingers continuing to stroke shapes against your bare skin and your nails massaging along his scalp.

“Was that okay?” He suddenly asks, eyes sharpening onto the litter of marks over your neck. You roll your eyes because of course, it was okay. “I’m sorry about those- heat of the moment.” You know he’s not completely sorry.

“More than.” You reassure him. You half expect your maid from Romeo and Juliet to come rushing through your doors, urging you to get dressed before you get caught. But she never comes in person, only through a quick glance of the clock that sits on the wall behind Jungkook’s head as you look past it. It’s 1pm already- you’re supposed to meet the group at 3pm. You pause, a flitter of doldrums cascading over you as your epiphany hits.

Today is the heist.

You frown, lips jutting into a pout, your chest only swallowing more guilt as Jungkook uses his thumb to crease the etches of your frown lines away.

“I have to go in a little while,” you say with great regret, feeling sick to your stomach already.

Jungkook only hums understandingly. “Okay.” You’re thankful that he doesn’t press you further or push to stay longer. You’ve always admired that he respects your boundaries. “You really are pretty you know?” You snort at his, poking his chest as you roll your eyes.

“Is that all you like me for? For being pretty?” He seems to take legitimate offence to your accusation, an eyebrow tilted towards you as he captures the finger pressed against his chest.

“Hey, I don’t just like you, I love you, okay?” Your voice hitches in your throat, gulping as he simply beams a bunny grin towards you, playing with your finger in the grasp of his hand. “And secondly, I bet you don’t even know the date we first met.”

You blink at him. “What?”

He simply smiles again, bringing your finger up to place a kiss against the tip. “March 14, 2019- now, I should get going huh?” Before you’re able to say anything, he’s releasing your finger and propping himself onto his arms to leave. Truthfully, you’re in too much shock that he’s even remembered such an intricate detail. “Even though today’s my day off…” You knew that though, which is why you chose today of all the days to rob him. You watch his bare bottom flex as he lifts from your mattress, hands on his hips while he searches for his discarded clothing.

When Jungkook leaves, after another round of shower sex (you swear the man has the libido of a freshly blossomed pubescent), you’re left with an utter void pierced through your chest and a dull ache in between your legs. Jimin arrives to pick you up within the hour of Jungkook’s departure, not failing to tease you about the evident markings of your late-night sexcapades. However, it had been so much more than that last night.

You’re once again empty inside.

“Okay,” Yoongi says into the microphone before him. “Testing uh, the communications.”

You can’t help but grin. As informal as he is, he can’t escape your detection at his trying so hard to be a kind of James Bond. Your very own Q, as it were, had managed to give you a myriad of ingenious gifts.

The low-light glasses he has provided you with is a modicum more utility in darkness, but they are by no means completely night vision. Namjoon is reciting the plan for the umpteenth time. He’s pacing, trying to keep it cool and obviously failing. And in contrast, Jimin is so uncharacteristically icy, it almost cools the room. He usually gets like this before one of your robberies, while everyone else is near hysterics. But as usual, you’re quiet. Absorbing the moment. Trying to centre yourself. Surprisingly enough, it’s working- for the most part. Your hammering heart has managed to slow, and your nerves have almost quit rattling. Somehow, in the back of your mind, you know it’s only a matter of time before… Before what? It all comes crashing down? What was it, anyway? What the hell were you doing here?

As if on queue, you squash the doubts. There’ll be none of that this expedition; you cannot afford to let your feelings get in the way this time. After what seems like a mild eternity, Namjoon finishes, and with a final look around the room, his eyes rest on yours. It feels as though he’s looking straight into you, no, through you. You feel him searching for the shreds of doubt you’ve just put on mute. You stare back into his gaze, confident, undertones of defiance. Seemingly satisfied, he breaks away from your eyes. It’s then that you realize he’d seen the marks of your previous night’s escapades littering dark against your neck. You clear your throat and cup your neck in hopes of some shred of dignity left within you.

“Alright, then,” he says at long last, addressing the motley crew before him. “I think we’re ready.”

[Golden Film Closet Headquarters. Time: 9:06pm]

The secret doorway that leads to the rear of the building was put in for a single purpose: evasion of the hordes of reporters that continually plague Jungkook’s day-to-day. It’s a route that Jungkook had to take often, and on one occasion had shared the secrecy of with you- one of your intimate endeavours.

To his own credit, it’s the perfect secret entrance. It stands unassuming and vacant beneath a flickering, near-dead fluorescent light whose buzzing fades indiscernible beneath the cacophony of crickets surrounding you. The rusted door is unmarked, sandwiched between two too-large pillars of concrete that runs up the length of the building itself. A quick cursory glance reveals no cameras. Perfect. Jimin follows close behind you, his hand resting nervously on the can of pepper spray he felt compelled to bring along.

Earlier in the meeting, you had scoffed at such a precaution. It wasn’t as though you had done deep recon into the security shifts, oh no. It’s also definitely not as though you’ve managed to memorize the schedule by now, and know the precise moment when the guards would inevitably change shifts. You know it’s only a precaution, but Jimin’s paranoia nonetheless sends you off with a rather sour taste in your mouth.

You realize sometimes it feels as though you have no credibility with the group. Are they humouring you?

Your thoughts are rudely interrupted by Jimin fiddling with the door. “Giving it five more seconds for the keygen program,” he whispers. “Just have to make sure nobody’s monitoring the cameras.”

Five seconds? Five seconds lasts a lifetime under the wrong conditions, and these certainly made the criteria. However, you know it was time well spent. Yoongi had outdone himself on the crack program that he had uploaded to Jimin’s phone, or so he had thought. You both would find out soon enough.

After an eternity, the door finally clicks, and the small red LED by the door’s handle swatches to green with a small click.

You slowly exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and Jimin exclaims under his breath. “It… Worked. My God, Yoongi, you’re a genius.”

“Of course it worked,” crackled Yoongi’s voice over the radio, irate and pompous. “What do you take me for, anyway?” Jimin ignores the jab and slowly creaks open the door, motioning for you to follow. You disappear behind the darkness of what lay beyond the doorway, and silently close the door behind you.

Utter darkness encompasses beyond; complete and utter darkness. Your heart begins to hammer as you realize you aren’t entirely sure that you remember the labyrinth of hallways that lead to the emergency stairs.

“You’re up, _____,” Jimin whispers in the dark. “Lord knows you know this place way better than I do.” The truth of it stings as you recall the day that Jungkook had lead you down the pathways in a successful attempt at evading the press. You shake the memory before it has a chance to take hold, and you draw the low-light glasses Yoongi had cooked up for the pair of you. You slide them over your eyes, and the oppressive darkness suddenly gives way to a static wash of dark olive as the room around you gains clarity. The door behind you is one of two, and the other door lay beyond. It’s the door that you had forgotten about.

“Oh, shit,” you mutter under your breath.

“What? What’s ‘shit’? Talk to me,” Jimin hisses from behind you.

“There’s another door,” you relay. “It doesn’t look like the last one. It might need a key.”

Jimin swears behind you as Namjoon’s voice fills your ear, panicked. “What do you mean, another door? That’s not what you told us.”

You’re silent without a reply, and starting to wonder if this is even the same door that Jungook had shown you before. Without warning, your memory takes over as you recall the day he led you down the passage. As your mind is filled with the warm memories of a simpler time, you also remember that the door in front of you isn’t locked. “What’s the use in locking it?” Jungkook had told you that day. “Nobody’s going to find it, anyway.”

Until today.

Silent, moving like black liquid, you creep forward in the darkness and rest your hand on the knob. It twists, unlocked, and the door swings open.

“Well, I sure feel dumb now,” Jimin says after a silent moment passes.

You hear an exhale over the mike, Namjoon’s voice near shaking as he speaks. “Dumbness aside, we’re on a clock here. You guys have to keep moving.” You proceed through the door into what looks like a utility room. In the corner, you see cameras active, swivelling back and forth, sweeping the room for irregularity. As Jimin starts to enter the room, you yank him out of view of the camera’s field of vision.

“Hey, what are you-” he whispers loudly as you clap a hand over his mouth. With your eyes, you nod towards the camera. His eyes relax, head nodding upon realization.

“Yoongi, the cameras are active,” you whisper into the mic, releasing Jimin.

“Not a problem,” comes his reply, instant and confident. A heartbeat later, he follows up. “... Rear surveillance neutralized. Proceed with caution, as always.” The red LED of the camera fades off without a sound, and the camera stops panning, immobilized. Nervously, you proceed through the room. The last door you find is the one that leads into the main utility hallway, a passageway not known or used by much staff beyond maintenance. This was one part of the building you weren’t quite familiar with; Namjoon had managed to pull the blueprints from a public service building, and the rest was history.

He gets on the microphone. “You guys know where you’re headed?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty creeping in his already nervous voice.

“Don’t worry, nobody fell asleep at your TED Talk,” you reply with a grin he can’t see. Jimin stacks up against the door, running the keygen program from his Bluetooth.

“Five more seconds….and, we’re in,” he says. The door makes a familiar click as the lock is bypassed, and Jimin gently creaks it open to survey. His head still out of the crack in the door, his hand raises in a ‘follow me’ gesture. You take a breath and step out into the illuminated hallway, alone, save for Jimin. At the end of the corridor lays one of the final obstacles to your reward; the door with a physical lock. Yoongi’s technological magic would be of little help here, but your dexterous skills might be.

“Oh great, another door,” Jimin mutters under your breath. “How much you want to bet it’s locked?”

“I’m not sure you want to make that bet,” you reply as you stride towards the door, pulling a bobby pin from your hair and a multitool from your pocket. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the lock. In fact, it might have been one of your faster times. You find yourself thanking the number of times you’ve picked your way out of Skyrim’s dungeons as the Khajit.

I am the Kajit, you tell yourself as the door swings open with overwhelming satisfaction. You turn around with a smirk planted firmly on your mouth, Jimin’s surprised face radiating a sense of smugness you simply can’t let go unnoticed.

“Did you always know how to do that?” He asks, quiet and genuinely impressed. You shrug, and turn to the first flight of stairs, leaving him with his imagination to play hell over his own speculation. You crane your neck upwards, staring up into the seemingly infinite staircase. Did you have a good physed class grade? Would that even matter now?

The staircase is daunting, but there exists no other option. You know that use of any elevators would give you away in a heartbeat. You sigh, and take the first step. And after what feels like an eternity, your legs feel as if they’ve run 150km within the past few minutes.

“Thanks for choosing such a tall building,” Jimin sarcastically breathes between deep pants. “I’m really digging all these stairs.” You try to muster the strength to reply but find none. The final flight to Jungkook’s office stares back at you, mockingly, daring you to come closer. A second wind brings you finally to Jungkook’s floor. Jimin takes his time catching up. “Is this finally it?” he asks, beads of sweat now streaming down his face. The 22 storey-long trek had absolutely beaten your legs to a pulp, and you now stood balanced on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, it had all been worth it. The prize that you had come all this way for lay just beyond another door.

However, you know this door wouldn’t be like the others at all. You know this because Jungkook had told this to you the first time he had taken you up to his office. Correction— the first time he had taken you to his office and left you panting, a sopping, carnal mess of ecstasy laying sprawled on his eloquent hardwood floors. You wonder how many times those same security officers you snuck passed earlier watched Jungkook take you on his desk. The thought makes your cheeks heat as realization dawns on you.

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly. “This is it.” Jimin scuttles from behind you, and boots up the keygen program for the umpteenth time, now frighteningly routine given the circumstances. The door swings open without a hitch, and you stride into the Jungkook’s office. Somehow, it had seemed all too easy. You can’t tell if this means you guys are just getting that good at this, or maybe if…

Yoongi’s voice comes through your earpiece to cut your thoughts. “Surveillance has been looped and spoofed. I doubt it’s going to fool them for long, so chop-chop.” Jimin stays a moment to close the door silently behind you, standing vigilant in the hallway as you walk straight to his computer desk… the very one he had taken you so fervently many times before.

“Okay, I’m at his desktop,” you say into your microphone.

“Amazing,” Yoongi replies. “Now, all you have to do is plug in the flash drive into the computer, and let him do his thing. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Your fingers fiddle with the slick plastic of Yoongi’s piece de resistance, the flash drive that would make a transfer of the 2.5 million dollars you sought. You somehow find the strength to keep yourself from fiddling, but it does nothing to quell the shakes that now grip your hands. Placing the USB stick in the port, you turn it once before it slots comfortably in place.

“Guys?” You radio to the rest of the team. “We might have a problem.” A handsome image of Jungkook now shows on the screen with a box below it, requesting a password.

“If there’s a password, don’t worry about it,” Yoongi reassures you. “I took the liberty of cracking that earlier, too. It should be Bananamilk121397- that’s with a capital ‘B’ and all one word.” At speed, you type in the password.

‘ACCESS DENIED’ flashes before you. You curse under your breath, typing it again, a little slower this time. The message remains.

“Yoongi, that’s not right.”

“What?” comes over the radio. You begin to sweat.

“I don’t know!” you exclaim but in a whisper. “It isn’t working.”

“Damn it,” Yoongi curses over the radio. “He must’ve changed it recently.” You curse under your breath. All the planning, all the recon, everything that had led to this moment, had all been for nothing.

“Are you kidding me?” Jimin hisses. “There’s no way. We’ve come all this way, this can’t stop us now.”

“I don’t think it will,” Yoongi says. “Let me work my magic. I’ll see what I can do from here.”

“Give us five minutes max,” Namjoon cuts on the radio. “Just five minutes, don’t panic- I’m sure we can buy some more time here.” You only close your eyes in exhaustion. This was not going as planned. Barely a minute passes by, agonizingly slowly, before Yoongi’s voice fills your ear.

“Okay, the fucker did change it- listen carefully, 03142019- with an exclamation mark at the end,” he relays.

Your heart sinks through your chest. The date is all to familiar- you had heard it merely a few hours ago.

The password was the date you and Jungkook had first met.

Suddenly, your breath leaves you. You’re left filled with a sense of utter disgust. You do your best to stomach the disgust that fills you. You think of Hoseok, lying immobile and helpless in a cold hospital bed, waiting as the days tick by to his inevitable end. With some difficulty, you swallow the lump that had formed in your throat, and with lightning precision you type out the password.

[PASSWORD ACCEPTED]

“I’m in.” Your voice wavers, holding down the choke of a sob.

“I’m…kind of surprised that worked,” Yoongi replies. “Okay, so, you’re looking for a file called ‘GPI-GFC411’ - all you have to do is transfer the file to the flashdrive and then delete it from his computer.” Yoongi pauses, a breathless laugh following shortly after. “And then? We’ve got ourselves a lot of money, baby.”

The humour doesn’t register with you. At this point, not a whole lot does. You don’t feel the elation you hear in Yoongi’s voice. With some navigation, you manage to find the file, hidden beneath a myriad of folders. However, the sheer mass of the file itself fills you with dread.

“Shit, you guys- this file is fucking massive, it’s going to take at least another 10 minutes.” You’re panicked once again.

Namjoon comes on the radio again, his icy voice filling your ear. “Calm. Down. This isn’t the worst thing. Just transfer the damn file, and get out of there. We can’t afford to waste time anymore.”

You know his words make sense, but you can’t calm down. Here you were in Jungkook’s office, the office where he had given you a part of his heart and soul so many times before. No, you wouldn’t calm down, you couldn’t calm down knowing that you’re part of the force now robbing him. After everything he had done, here you were. Your chest tightens, and before you know it, the tears follow the revelation, silently running down your face.

Ten minutes later, the file transfers. The tears have long since dried, leaving you with a sense of abysmal emptiness in your chest. Sniffling once, you eject the USB drive from the port and without warning, Jimin runs into the office, carefully closing the door behind him. He is frantic.

“Shit, c’mon, we’ve gotta go- I heard some staff come back in.” He drags you away, flashdrive in one hand, your wrist in another. The scene passes by you in an entire blur, somehow muffled in your mind. You hear Jimin, but you aren’t listening. You’ve never felt more disgusted in your entire life as you’re dragged away from Jungkook’s office, torn away from a place you had shared so many memories with someone who professed their love for you not too long ago.

You’ve avoided Jungkook like he’s the plague incarnate. It’s been difficult as his assistant but he hasn’t come to work much as of late. The sense of stress and anxiety that fills you with dread whenever the phone buzzes with his name is beginning to reach a head, and even your team has realized that something is up. No longer are you the clean, flawless porcelain visage of stoicism; your cracks were starting to show, numerous as they are. However, there was no denying the truth; he knows he’s been robbed, the whole office knows he’s been robbed. Things played out exactly as planned. You took the funds under your wing, and passed them onto the team. What happened to everything after your cut was a mystery to you, and you can only hope at least some of it was spent responsibly. Your mind drifts back to Hoseok, thinking back to the few visits you’ve had with him. But on the outside, not much has changed. It’s all the same, you’re just 2.5 million dollars richer.

Your fingers tap anxiously against your cheek as you sit at your desk, replaying the night over and over again in your mind. Even if it has been a few weeks, the injustice you dealt to Jungkook has been all you can think about.

“Hey,” comes the all-too-familiar voice from behind you. You crane your head towards the sounds, eyes widening and a gasp leaving you as a very tired looking Jungkook is stood before you. His dark hair is more dishevelled than his usual curls, shirt lazily buttoned in a half-hearted attempt to pass as a put together CEO. The dark circles under his eyes give away how little he’s slept in the last few weeks, and it’s beginning to show; yet, he still looks breathtaking. Effortlessly so. You haven’t heard much from him as of late, and whenever you did, he had always seemed elsewhere. When he had looked at you, it was as if he wasn’t really looking at you at all. This had made you nervous and had done little more than justify your distance from him. But here he is now, right in front of you. You hadn’t accounted for this, in fact, you dreaded the day it would happen.

“Jungkook…” You start, your mouth now drying. You wonder if you look just as distressed as him. He doesn’t say anything else, offering a tight-lipped smile and a nod before he’s turning to head into the privacy of his office. You scramble to your feet in haste, his cold demeanour leaving an unbearable pressure in the room, a pressure you feel desperate to leave. “Jungkook, wait!” You follow after him. Jungkook pauses right before his door, twisting his body to meet your gaze.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.” He relents.

You’re taken aback, your head only shaking in reassurance. “No, we’ve both been busy, don’t be sorry. It’s completely fine.”

His lips quirk in the slightest, an empty shell of a smile as he nods, eyes raking over you. “I’ve missed you.” His admission hurts, cuts deep in places you don’t talk about at parties. You’ve missed him too- so much but you can’t bring yourself to saying it out loud. “You look beautiful...as usual” Despite it all, his sage voice and kind words still manage to a blush to creep across your cheeks. You can’t let his suaveness go unchallenged. Just like old times, the words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

“Let me...how about you come over tonight? I’ll cook dinner.” Without warning, his demeanour shifts entirely. He locks up, uncharacteristically stoic, his usual doe eyes radiating a cold criticism of who stands before him. His handsome face turns to stone, entirely unreadable. This isn’t like him at all, and a silent part of you is put screaming on edge. Eventually, he relents, filling you with an undeserved rush of enthusiasm.

“Ah…alright,” he replies after a tense moment. “I’ll come by at seven or so.” The smile he offers is hollow, sympathetic as it doesn’t quite embed the crows feet around the outer corners of his eyes like it usually does. And right before he’s turning away, he leans in to place a chaste kiss against your forehead. As welcome as it is, you can’t help but notice how devoid of passion it feels. If anything, it feels almost…obligatory.

When 7pm rolls around, you’re slightly disheartened when the usual absurdly punctual Jungkook does not arrive exactly on the dot. What’s worse, you’re sure you’ve overcooked the pasta you’ve been preparing to a mushy mess of inadequacy- and burnt the garlic “toast” thoroughly beyond recognition. Now the panic begins to creep in, stemming from your back before it overtakes you, enveloping you in a cloak of messy anxiety. As you plate your gummy boiled dough, you hear the report of a tentative knock at your door.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath as you scramble to set the table. “In a minute!” One of the plates scorches your thumb in your frantic efforts to get everything near picturesque. Oh, who were you kidding? It’s an unmitigated disaster, and you know it. Oh well- you rationalize it probably is not the worst thing that could happen tonight. The night is still recoverable, you tell yourself.

It’ll be okay.

After a moment, you stride to the door with confidence, tossing your apron across the couch as you do so. You unlock and open the door. Jungkook stands before you, dressed to the nines. You do everything within your power to keep your jaw from dropping. He even put on that dress shirt you adore.

However, he doesn’t come empty-handed. His left hand holds a bouquet of beautiful daisies, your favourite. In his right hand, he holds an envelope.

You’re starstruck.

“Oh my god, what is all this?” you manage to speak. “It’s just dinner.”

“An apology for my absence,” he says lifting the flowers, “and a surprise for you.” The hand holding the envelope flutters indicatively. The flowers bring you as much elation as the envelope brings anxiety… What is he doing? Immediately, you ask yourself if it’s severance pay. Could he be cutting ties? You swallow the uncertainty that builds in your chest.

“Well, you didn’t have to do all that,” you say as you embrace him. Almost immediately, the way he holds you feels fundamentally wrong, almost as if he’s another person, an actor. A ghost in the shell. The warmness that used to accompany his hugs is nowhere to be felt now. His actions feel slow, deliberate, damn near robotic.

When you pull away, your hands come away with the flowers as he releases them into your grasp, your fingers involuntarily curling around the envelope as well.

“Not yet, babe,” he says, snapping the envelope from your grip and well out of your reach. “Not until after dinner.” It takes more than a little effort for you to keep your anxieties from boiling over. Miraculously, you manage to uphold your subterfuge.

The dinner, as mediocre as dinner could be, passes by without incident. It’s quiet— a little too quiet. Jungkook seems preoccupied, meeting your questions with one-worded answers, and giving lazy details about his day. Something seems to be picking at him, and you begin to fear the worst. An agonizing half hour passes, and you finish your meal. You glance at his plate; it’s only half-finished when he pushes it away in completion. You try to convince yourself that it’s because of the sludge you’ve produced.

“I think I’m done,” he says, his voice no doubt as bland as the meal he just ate. His eyes meet yours, and you see in his gaze a despondency that has turned him into a husk of who he used to be. Across the table, he hands you the envelope with a calm hand. Your trembling fingers take it after a moment, silent and unaware of what's to come.

Nothing can prepare you for the pictures you pull from the envelope.

They’re video stills, screenshots taken from some kind of low-resolution surveillance camera. The angle is unfamiliar; but what familiarity remains lies solely in the face on the picture, crouched in front of the door.

Jimin.

Your face.

Your eyes go to the timestamp in the lower right corner of the screengrab. It’s footage taken the night of the heist.

Frantically, a significant part of you caressed in feral denial, you leaf through the prints, pictures dropping to the table and floor around you. Your heart begins to quicken its pace as you see practically every single step you took to rob him of his livelihood. Your hands shake. Your blood runs cold, and an incalculable sense of guilt beyond comprehension begins to overwhelm you. There were plenty of cameras you and Yoongi had missed; cameras placed deliberately hidden. Plenty of evidence against you.

A thick silence falls through the room, enveloping you both. The deafening silence is so thick you’re sure you could swim through it, swim away from this situation, away from Jungkook and away from the table.

But you remain. No matter how much you will yourself to rise, to look Jungkook in the eye, you simply can’t bring your gaze to his.

When you manage to, you see his dead gaze, any notion of a happy future with you utterly obliterated in the light of your decisions. A part of him had died; the part of himself that he willingly gave to you, a part now sacrificed for a misconceived notion of a greater good. Maybe one day, he would understand. Maybe one day, you would too.

“I’m not going to charge you,” he finally speaks after the painful silence. “I just want to know why.” The slightest crack in his voice sends you to a panic. You try to speak but the words are caught in your throat, nothing coming out but muted chokes. His eyes close, his head dropping slowly in disappointment. “Yeah… I thought so.,” he says, defeated.

It hits you all at once.

The heist. The money. Hoseok.

Jungkook.

Upon the realization of just how badly the situation had deteriorated, you feel yourself begin to crumble. It isn’t long before you dissolve into a chant of well-rehearsed apologies and excuses that spill from your mouth in desperate attempts to get him to understand. Jungkook doesn’t answer, he merely shakes his head and slowly raises from the chair, walking towards the door. You scream after him, clambering to your feet. Somehow it feels as though it’s all in slow motion, like it isn’t really happening. It can’t be happening. Everything was supposed to go off without a hitch.

“Jungkook, please! I’ll give it back, I’ll give it all back-” escapes your lips, tears streaming down your face. He wheels on you, his voice venom, his eyes aflame.

“It’s not about the money, _____. It was never about the money,” he spits accusingly at you. Any shred of what he used to be is gone, burned away in the flames of anger that now hold him hostage. “You didn’t just steal my money- you stole every bit of humanity, love, dignity and self respect I could ever have for someone… let alone myself.”

His words, once so warm and reassuring, slice scathingly through you like a hot knife through butter. You melt at his sentence in all the wrong ways, reaching for him in a desperate act of denial. Your arm is met with his revulsion, a visible disgust as he recoils from touching you. “I’m sorry!” you manage to scream through tears.

“No, you aren’t,” he says, monotone and broken. “You aren’t sorry at all.” He’s turning around again, storming towards your door before he tears it open. You collapse, tears now freely and unabashedly breaking free of whatever restraint you had dedicated there.

You grasp at the door frame, your legs now refusing to support the guilt you carry in your heart. You sink to the floor, your strength leaving you with every sob you heave. You cry his name out once more, your voice wailing against the empty street he now walks into, littered with the first leaf of autumn fluttering down. Despite what had transpired seconds before, you no longer see the hate in his glazed over eyes. You don’t see the disgust that had just saturated his words in venom.

Instead, that look is now replaced with the look of an obliterated man as he walks away from the one single person he ever believed in…

As he walks away from you.

a/n: hi pls dont yell @ me idk ive turned into a monster idk. how are you feeling? :// this was truly, very different from anything that ive usually done so i hope it was okay and still enjoyable to read!! let me know what you think,,,, i promise ill feed u soft jk soon to make up for this. i know. ur hurting. im hurting. we’re all hurting. it’ll be ok, this too shall pass. im right here and we’re going to be okay. jungkook just needs some time to sort it out and so do u. you’ll meet again one day ;)

if you haven’t already, please go check out the rest of the authors who are part of this collab, we have two more fics posting after mine and then we’re done! the masterlist is at the top of this fic. it was an incredible experience working alongside some of my favourite authors and greatest friends, i would seriously love to do this again!! ily guys <3

huge huge huge shoutout to my bb girl @meant-for-dreaming who kept me sane throughout this entire experience. i don’t think i wouldve made it without her. i love u endlessly x

and an EXTRA special shoutout to my afflatus, my muse, my stuffed penguin, @junqkook, you were a true pinnacle to this story and i truly hope i did u justice. i love u so much.

4K notes · View notes

akiology · 4 years ago

Text

Hello, Are You There? || Part 2

Minako tries the number neighbor thing. Thinking it was an inactive number, she decides to vent and express her frustrations, turning it into a sort of mini diary. What she didn’t expect was somebody was actually on the other line and decided to send a message back.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Word Count: 4.3k+

Pairing: Akihiko Sanada x Minako Arisato

Note: this chapter includes a long text message thread between headphones and pancakes ehe and some slight angst jfjfdnjf im sorry the next one is gonna be fluffy i promise ; u ; ALSO i accidentally posted this w/o the proper editing so if u saw this b4 im sorry fhrkjfrbf

“Arisato, your grades aren’t so impressive these past few weeks, may I know why?” Miss Toriumi, the teacher in-charge of Minato’s class, asks with concern evident in her voice. This was so unlike him, he always manages to snag the highest scores and is an excellent student. Minato just shrugs nonchalantly. Miss Toriumi sighs, probably realizing Minato probably won’t open up any time soon.

“Arisato, I know you don’t feel comfortable opening up to me. But I hope you are at least opening up to someone. Perhaps your sister?” Miss Toriumi continues. Minato shrugged once again. Before Miss Toriumi could continue once more, a fellow student entered the room.

“Miss Toriumi, you are needed at the Student Council room.” Miss Toriumi gave a quick nod to the other student, and turns to Minato. “Well, I am needed elsewhere. I will take my leave, but please keep in mind that you can talk to me if you need guidance.”

Minato walked out of the Faculty Room and headed for the school gates.

These past few days, Minato has felt… lost.

He overheard his classmates talking about which career paths they will be pursuing, and he felt… left behind. His classmates have already started planning their future and they seemed so… certain.

Minato hasn’t felt the feeling of certainty ever since their parents went abroad without them. They said it's for work, but right now, he really isn't sure if it really is for work. Before they left, he heard them saying that ‘the children are getting bothersome to deal with’. Ever since then, the feeling of stability, the feeling of being sure about something has become a foreign concept to him. Do his parents still love them? Are they a burden? If he was wrong for thinking that his own parents most certainly love and support them, then what about the others? Who's to say he isn't wrong with everything else? Minato envies his classmates, because even though they are the same age as he is, somehow they have already gotten everything figured out for themselves.

‘Why couldn’t he be more like that?’ He could hear the voice in his head say.

This train of thought is the only thing occupying his mind for the past few days, and it has greatly affected his life. His academic grades, his club performance, and even his relationships with both his friends and his very own sister.

Ever since the seed of doubt in his mind was planted, the voice in his head started getting louder and braver.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Are you sure that’s the right choice?’

‘You probably won’t go far in life.’

‘You’re a failure. That’s why they left.’

He tried everything he can to drown out the voice in his head. He tried listening to music, hanging out with his friends, playing at the arcade, anything. Anything to make it go away or so that he can no longer hear it.

But of course, it is not that easy.

He wanted to talk to his sister, he really did. But he didn’t know how to. It was something he had in common with his sister. Despite being surrounded by many friends, opening up still remains difficult for the both of them. And what makes it even harder is that, he doesn’t know how to explain this feeling of his. Deep down, he is thinking that, perhaps, this was just something he made up himself and that it is not real. So he tried driving his attention somewhere else.

He decided to go somewhere quiet, somewhere hidden.

He let his feet lead him, with his loud music blasting from his headphones.

This mindless walking led him to the train station’s back alley.

It was deserted. Perfect.

He sat down and closed his eyes. Eventually his phone started vibrating. Picking it up, he received a message from Minako.

Sis: hey im in a study grp w fuuka and yukari

Sis: ill be late so eat b4 u go home

Minato was about to send a reply to his sister, when three older men approached him.

“Hey, little man. What are ya doing here?” One of them, whom Minato assumed was their leader, asked him. They didn’t seem too happy with seeing an unfamiliar boy at their hangout spot.

“Nothing.” Minato replied simply, shoving his phone in to his pocket and fixing his headphones into position. The men, however, were irritated by this.

“Ye’r in our spot.” The leader, who apparently has a nose piercing, took a step closer. They tried to look intimidating, but it did not faze Minato one bit.

“And?”

“Leave.”

“No.”

The guy was starting to get angry, and started digging around in his pocket. “Ye’r from Gekkoukan High, aren’t ya? Damn, one of yous are always trying to waltz around here like some hotshot, but guess what? Ye’r not.”

“Ok.” Minato said absentmindedly. And finally, the man reveals what he was hiding in his pocket. A knife. Minato stood up quickly. “I’ll leave.”

“Haha, ye’r too late. I am angry now.” The man swings his knife, and Minato was barely even able to dodge it. It grazed slightly against his cheek, forming a small scar.

“Hey, stop that!” A tall man wearing a beanie and maroon peacoat quickly came to his rescue. He was able to restrain the man and retrieve the knife from him. Mr. Nose Piercing tried flailing around, but the tall man was much stronger than he is.

“Hey, let him go!” The two other guys who entered with Mr. Nose Piercing, approached the tall male restraining their friend. But before they could attack, another male, a silver-haired gentleman wearing a red vest came, and was able to knock down one guy.

The one left standing kneeled down, pleading for mercy. “Please! I didn’t do anything! It was all him!” He then pointed at Mr. Nose Piercing. The tall, beanie-wearing man scoffed, “Wow, selling your friend out just to be able to escape? How pathetic.”

“Aki, get the knife.”

“Got it, Shinji.”

Mr. Beanie, or Shinji as he was called, dropped Mr. Nose Piercing onto the ground.

“Take your friend, and the other one too. Don’t come back or else we will call the police.”

“Fuck ya, Aragaki! I thought ye were one of us!” Mr. Nose Piercing shouted but quickly exited when he was able to successfully carry his knocked-down friend.

Shinji shook his head and muttered under his breath, “I was never one of you.”

Mr. Red Vest (Minato forgot his name) turned to him and asked, “What were you doing here?”

“I was trying to clear my head.”

Mr. Red Vest looks around, “In here?” He didn’t seem to understand why he chose this out of all the places in Port Island. It was really unhygienic and lots of trashes are strewn around. If he were to go here to clear his head, he’d probably exit more troubled than before.

“Well, you did find me here. So yes, here. I was trying to clear my head here.” Minato sarcastically quipped. Mr. Red Vest looked so confused.

Shinji, approached Minato and gave him a band-aid and an unopened water bottle. Minato raised his eyebrows.

“For your scar. I only have water for now, so use it to clean it. Then cover it with the band-aid. When you get home do a more thorough clean, though. It’s a small scar but better be safe than sorry.” Shinji stated. When Minato accepted the items, Shinji put his hands back into his pockets.

“Don’t come back here anymore. Find another place to clear your head. Let’s go, Aki.”

Ah, Mr. Red Vest was named Aki.

“Um, alright. Goodbye.” Aki awkwardly gave a small wave, and they left. Minato decided to gather his belongings and go home.

/./

As Minato approached the apartment, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. However, his phone died. Minato sighs and when looked up, he notices that the lights are on.

Minako is home.

He brought his hand up to his face, feeling around the band-aid that was placed. He hopes Minako doesn’t notice. The last thing he wants to do is stressing Minako out even more. As he turns the doorknob, he looks down. Hopefully, not meeting her eyes would make it less obvious. As he opens the door, he was met with his sister who was in front of the door. ‘Was she going out?’

“And just where have you been?” Minako asked in a harsh tone. It was rare for her to speak like that and when he heard it, he flinched.

Not wanting to anger her even more, he lied. “With the boys.”

“Lies. They told me they didn’t know where you were.”

‘Well, shit.’

‘You’re just gonna come up with a lie and it was a terrible one.’

Not wanting to receive her wrath, he skimmed past her.

“Minato, I am talking to you.”

He stopped abruptly, still not turning to face her, “What?”

“What? What?! What do you mean ‘what’? I was worried sick! You didn’t answer any of my calls, and your friends didn’t know where you were! Not to mention that it’s late, who knows what kind of criminal could be lurking around the streets at this moment!” He could hear the frustration and worry in Minako’s voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her.

He feels that if he did, he’ll break down.

“Calm down, I got home safely didn’t I? It’s fine. You’re worrying over nothing.” Minato cringed at what he said, he knew that he sounded extremely self-centered right now but he couldn’t take it back anymore.

‘You’re the bad guy.’

Minato quickly got up the stairs, not wanting to say any more things that he didn’t mean.

“Minato Arisato, come back down here! I am not done talking to you!”

/./

The next day, the twins’ train ride to the school was really awkward. They can’t meet each other’s eyes. However, Minako would be lying if she said that the band-aid on Minato’s face didn’t worry her one bit. They both seem like they have so much to say, but are hesitating whether it was the right moment or not. They instead decide to disappear into their own worlds, with the power of music. It didn’t help calm down Minako’s nerves, so she decided to fidget with her phone. She eventually found her thumb hovering over the messaging app.

‘Fuck it.’

Minako: hey headphones

Minako: gud am

Headphones: Good morning to you too, pancake. :)

Headphones: How are you today?

Minako: um

Minako: don’t wanna talk about it

Minako: can we talk about something else?

Headphones: Sure. What do you want to talk about?

Minako: uhh

Minako: wanna get to know eachother?

Headphones: Okay. How will this work?

Minako: we take turns asking questions, but no matter who’s turn it is, we will both answer

Headphones: Okay, you first?

Minako: mmm

Minako: pronoun?

Minako: i’m she/her

Headphones: He/Him. :)

Headphones: What do you do on your free time?

Headphones: I either train to make myself stronger or hang out with a close friend. :) You?

Minako: maybe at home cleaning/cooking

Minako: or hanging out w friends as well

Minako: do u like any sports?

Minako: i play volleyball

Headphones: Wow, that’s great!

Headphones: I’m into boxing :)

Minako felt her cheeks heat up. Wow, that’s kinda hot.

‘Wait…’

‘What the hell am I thinking?!’

Headphones: Favorite food?

Headphones: Of course, you already knew about pancakes, but I also like eating beef bowls and ramen from time to time. But no meal of mine is complete without sprinkling some protein powder on it. :)

Minako: oh uhhh

Minako: anything sweet ig

Minako: i’ve got a sweet tooth hehe

Headphones: Then I guess the nickname ‘Pancake’ is perfect for you then. :)

Minako doesn’t know why but whenever they call her that name, it makes her cheeks warm and her heart starts beating faster. This feeling is foreign, but it sure as hell isn’t unwelcomed.

Minako looked out the window and noticed that the train is nearing its destination.

Minako: hey so uh i gtg real soon

Minako: ttyl?

Headphones: Alright, pancake. Take care. :)

Minako: umm

Minako: thanks

Headphones: No problem.

Minako: i dont think u understand, really

Minako: thank u from the bottom of my heart

Minako: for talking to me n being here n all that

Headphones: Anytime. :)

/./

During lunch, Minako decided to eat with Fuuka and Yukari. On the other hand, Minato ate with Junpei and Kenji. Their friends do not seem to be aware that the siblings are currently giving each other the ‘silent treatment’ and haven’t even uttered a word to each other since last night.

As Minako sat down with her food, her phone vibrated in her pocket. As Yukari and Fuuka were settling down in their own seats, she decides to check her phone.

Headphones: Hey, pancake. It’s lunchtime and I hope that you are eating well. :)

That short message made Minako smile so big that it didn’t go unnoticed by Yukari and Fuuka. They gave each other a quick look and turned back to silently observe Minako.

After sending a quick reply, Minako put her phone on the table and placed her bag beside her. After a few minutes, her phone vibrated. Her screen lit up, and it was a message from Headphones again.

Headphones: It better not be all sweets! Your body needs other nutrients too.

Minako chuckled at the message. Which, once again, did not go unnoticed. Yukari scooted over to Fuuka and whispered, “Do you think she forgot that we were here?”

Fuuka replied quietly, “Um, do you know who she’s texting?”

Yukari shrugged and mouthed, ‘Rio?’

Minako: heh okay MOM

Minako: make sure ure the same ok protein man

Minako put her phone down and picked up her utensils, when her phone vibrated again.

Headphones: Hey, that’s not the nickname you gave me!

Minako giggled at the message, but it was cut off by the sound of Yukari clearing her throat. Minako freezed when she realized that she momentarily forgot that Fuuka and Yukari were with her.

“So… who is your new text mate?” Yukari started, sporting a teasing smile and looking at her knowingly.

“Uh, Rio?”

Yukari raised her eyebrows, “Are you asking me?”

Minako cleared her throat, trying to show a poker face. “No, it IS Rio.”

Yukari turned to Fuuka, “Are you buying this, Fuuka?”

“No… She’s acting a bit suspicious.” Fuuka said, shyly.

“Fuuka!” Minako exclaimed, startling nearby students.

“Heh, you heard her. So who is it?”

“It’s nothing! I just saw a funny meme!”

“Would a funny meme make your phone vibrate three times in a row?”

“It’s a notification from a meme page? Um, yeah that’s it! They’re just really active today!” Minako cringed when she heard how fake that sounded.

“Why do you sound so uncertain, this makes it easier to see that you’re lying, y’know?” Yukari said smugly, and Minako doesn’t know if she should admit to Yukari that her new text mate is actually the guy from their number neighbor shenanigan. It’s nothing bad, it’s just that Minako knows that if she mentions this to them, she would not hear the end of it from Yukari.

“Okay fine.” Minako took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you.”

Yukari smiled triumphantly, while Fuuka’s eyes widened in surprise.

“So, who is it?”

“Before I tell you, can I ask what happened to your number neighbors?” Minako asked, hoping to stall.

“Hm, mine blocked me when I sent that message.” Yukari shook her head, disappointed.

“Oh, mine was really scary. They said that if I message them again, they will call the police.” Fuuka said, fidgeting with her fingers.

“What?! Isn’t that a bit too much?” Minako quickly held Fuuka’s hand, hoping to give her some sort of comfort.

“Oh, it’s fine. Maybe they thought I was a hacker or something. It’s not bad to be cautious.”

Yukari sighs, “Let’s never do this again.”

Fuuka nodded, “Agreed.”

There was a moment of silence, until Fuuka spoke up, “Why did you ask about that though, Minako?”

“Oh um… W-well…” Minako looked away and nervously laughed. Until Yukari realized why.

“Wait, is your number neighbor your new text mate?”

“Ehehe, yes?”

Fuuka and Yukari gasped.

“Well, well, well… It looks like I was right. You were able to get a relationship out of this number neighbor thing. Oh! How romantic! You were just one digit away from each other!” Yukari giggled and began hugging Fuuka out of excitement.

“Relationship? N-no… We aren’t in a re-relationship. We’re just… talking. Hehe..” Minako stuttered, and she really wanted to slap herself when she heard how she sounded.

“Yeah, and a relationship comes next after that!” Yukari cheered loudly, standing up and thrusting a first in the air triumphantly. The students in the next table seemed irritated by our table.

“Yukari, simmer down! You’re disturbing the other students!” Minako tried to get Yukari to sit back down. Fuuka found the situation amusing, and giggled.

“Anyways, give us details! You can’t expect us not to want more info when you told us that you actually ended up being text mates with your number neighbor! Spill!”

“Well, he is a nice guy. He is really understanding and willing to listen to my problems. He also respected my decision when I told him to call each other by code names instead of our real names. He also checks in with me every once in a while to see if I was okay…” Minako tells them, and unknowingly smiling to the thought of him. It wouldn’t have been noticed by Yukari and Fuuka if she wasn’t blushing so hard.

“Aww, you like him! Ask him if he wants to meet up, ey?”

“W-what! No! I-I barely know him!”

“Yeah, that’s why you are going to meet up, duh! To get to know each other more… and who knows… This could be something worth mentioning at your wedding when Fuuka and I give our toasts as your maid of honors!”

“Oh, that does sound cute!” Fuuka mentions cheerily.

“Fuuka, NO. Do not encourage Yukari, that wasn’t cute at all!”

/./

After classes, Minato waited outside of Minako’s classroom. Minato decided that he was going to apologize and open up to Minako, no matter what. He doesn’t want to keep his sister in the dark anymore. After a few minutes of waiting for his sister, he decided to go in himself and approach her. He saw her chatting with Fuuka while cleaning up her things.

“Sis.” Minato called, while dumping his bag on top of her desk. “Come with me, you can leave your things for now.” He grabbed his hand and led her outside.

Fuuka seemed confused, but resumed to picking up the scattered trashes. After a few minutes, Yukari entered the room, looking for someone. She quickly found Fuuka and approached her. “Where’s Minako?”

“Oh, Minato told her he had something to talk about. They left their things here, so you can just wait for them. If you wish to talk to Minako, they’ll probably come back soon.”

Suddenly, Yukari grinned widely. “They left their things, ey? So Minako’s phone is in here?”

Fuuka blinked a few times. ‘Why would Yukari ask about Minako’s phone?’

“Yeah, I think? I didn’t see Minako bring anything with her because Minato quickly dragged her outside, it seemed like he had something urgent to say.”

“Aha, I see… Fuuka, want to do a prank with me?”

/./

Minako was surprised by how her brother took the initiative to approach her first. She was happy as it seems like Minato is finally going to start opening up to her, something she wished he did from the start. And then, she remembers Headphone’s words: ‘He just needs some time to figure it out himself and then he will approach you.’

Minato finally let go of her wrist when they arrived at the persimmon tree. He signaled for her to sit down at the nearby bench, which was under the shade. For a few minutes, they were silent. Just taking in the peaceful environment and the cool, refreshing wind.

Minato was the first to speak up. “I’m sorry.”

Minako turned to look at him, “I’m sorry, too. For shouting at you last night, that was unnecessary.”

Minato shook his head and gave his sister a small smile. “No, that was okay. I was being unreasonable. But that’s not the only thing I’m apologizing for.”

Minako tilted her head, confused. “Huh?”

“I have been hiding things from you because I had a feeling you wouldn’t understand me. But that was wrong of me, I shouldn’t just start assuming things and then suddenly start closing off myself. When we were at the train this morning, it felt wrong that you weren’t talking to me. It was a really sucky feeling to have. And then I realized, that this was what you must be feeling when I stopped talking to you.” Minato closed his eyes and buried his face into the palms of his hands.

Minako frowned seeing her brother so distraught. She was about to say something, but Minato lifted his head and continued talking.

“The truth is, lately I have been feeling lost. I don’t know what to do. I feel… empty. I don’t know how to explain it, but basically it’s like the world is in black and white. It’s lifeless, and I don’t see the point. I am… uncertain whether I am making the right choice or not. A voice in my head is always telling me that I am making a bad choice or that I’m a failure. I… I’m sorry if I’m not making sense.”

“Minato, it’s fine… I understand.”

“Do you still love me? You won’t leave?”

Minako was shocked by what he said, “Why would you even think that? I would never leave you! You’re my brother… I would never abandon you.”

“But… mom and dad did.” Minato said quietly, and Minako feel the lump in her throat growing bigger.

“That’s okay. We don’t need them. I won’t ever leave you Minato. You are my partner-in-crime, my bestfriend, and most importantly, my brother. I love you so much and we will always be together.”

“But what will we do about the voice in my head?”

“Well, you have me. We can figure about this together. If you want, we can go see a therapist?”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that…”

“Then that is okay too. You will only go if you want to. I am here for you no matter what, and if you ever start having bad thoughts or the voice in your head gets stronger, just go to me. No matter what time or day, whether there’s classes or not, I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Minako and Minato gave small smiles to each other and they hugged. After a few moments, they let go and talked to each other for a few more minutes before heading back inside.

/./

When Minako and Minato returned to the classroom to retrieve their items, they were met with Fuuka looking uneasy and fidgeting. “Fuuka? You okay?” Minako approached her friend, going in for a hug to comfort her but Fuuka jumped.

“Minako! I am so sorry! I tried stopping Yukari but she was determined!” Fuuka bowed her head.

“What are you talking about? What did Yukari do?” Minato strided over, curious with what made Fuuka so worried. Minako shrugged at Minato, confused and worried for her friend.

Fuuka stood up straight, but still unable to look Minako in the eye. Right at that moment, Yukari came in holding an empty food wrapper. “Oh, Minako! There you are!”

Minako, Minato and Fuuka all whipped their heads to where Yukari’s voice was coming from. Yukari approached them, waving the empty food wrapper in front of their faces. “Minako, Fuuka and I are really sorry for eating this deluxe donut snack from the canteen without you! Fuuka was so worried because she knows you like it so much, but I was really hungry so I ate it! Sorry!”

Minako frowned and raised her eyebrow at Yukari, crossing her arms. “Is that all?”

Yukari gulped, and Fuuka started playing with the hem of her skirt, not strong enough to look Minako in the eye. “Yeah, that’s all! R-right Fuuka?” Yukari approached Fuuka, trying to silently ask for back-up.

Fuuka finally looked up to Minako and nodded quickly. “Y-yes! We’re really sorry, Minako!”

Minato stood awkwardly beside Minako, who was seriously studying Yukari and Fuuka. Serious Minako is scary Minako. Eyes scrutinizing their every movement, lips in a tight line, and arms across her chest making her seem even more intimidating.

After a few minutes of silence, Minako gave them a bright smile and laughed. Yukari and Fuuka were surprised and Minato was confused.

“Aww, girls! Don’t worry about that! You were hungry so it’s fine!” Yukari gave a sigh of relief, while Fuuka was still a bit shaken up. Minako closed her distance with the two girls and gave them both a hug.

“But next time, wait for me okay?” She whispered, in their ears eerily.

“Y-yes, Minako.”

“Haha, yeah…”

/./

RECENTLY DELETED THREAD

Minako: hey

Minako: do u live near tatsumi port island

Headphones: Yeah, I do. Why?

Minako: wanna meet tomorrow, sunday?

Minako: get to know each other?

Headphones: Oh, you want to meet?

Headphones: That’s fine by me. :)

Headphones: Where though?

Minako: paulownia mall, that ok? specifically chagall café

Minako: i have brunette hair with silver pins on it forming XXII

Minako: i’ll also be wearing a red scarf

Headphones: That sounds good!

Headphones: See you soon, pancake. :)

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ahiddenpath · 5 years ago

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Drabble: Clothes Shopping with Koushiro

So I’m reading my Nanowrimo 2019 draft for Tri: Integrity Lens. I found a scene where Koushiro, Eimi, Mimi, and Takeru take Koushiro clothes shopping. It’s pretty fun, so I’m sharing it below the cut. Enjoy!

Koushiro trailed a step behind Eimi, Mimi, and Takeru, trying to buoy his mood. True, he wanted to learn about style and find his, whatever that entailed. But choosing clothing from his screen was so much more comfortable, especially with Mimi and Takeru shooting excited glances at him, as if in anticipation of a show.

Takeru, being voted the most knowledgeable of menswear, chose the first store. Koushiro wondered if it would contain nothing but hats, and was relieved to find a fairly normal-looking selection of clothing inside. A young, male employee approached, dressed a bit too punk for Koushiro's tastes. Still, the man looked good, and Koushiro’s eyes darted to Eimi, gauging her reaction to his outfit.

But she simply greeted the employee and shifted focus to the wares. "Hmm... Shopping for someone else really is different. Does anything catch your eye, Koushiro?"

"Uh." Truthfully, Koushiro was too keyed up to look at the clothes. The employee stepped closer, and Koushiro stepped back, walking into a rack.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" the man asked.

"Um." Koushiro's eyes flicked to Eimi, who smiled encouragingly. "Er- N-no."

Taking mercy on him, Eimi said, "We're browsing, for now. Can I let you know if we need help?"

"You got it!" he replied. Koushiro watched him go, heading towards the cash register area in the back of the store. The next breath came a little more easily.

Takeru clapped a hand to his shoulder. "You okay?"

A rush of shame replaced Koushiro's anxiety. "Yes," he sighed, pretending to look at the clothing. "I apologize for... I don't know why I freeze up like that."

"It's totally okay!" Mimi said. "I have a few friends like that. I don't get it, but it's pretty common."

"That's true," Eimi said. "Lots of people feel anxious when talking to strangers. But we're here to help, so let's take a look."

Eimi approached the nearest shelf and unfolded a pair of pants, holding them out. They were forest green and featured an abundance of pockets. "The pockets seem useful, and I like the color, but... I dunno, do you think they look sort of bulky?"

"Totally," Takeru said. "Aniki might be able to pull them off, but they would wear Koushiro-san."

Eimi scowled. "Hey. We're here to be supportive."

Koushiro knew that Takeru wouldn't hurt his feelings on purpose, so he tried to ignore the sting of self-consiousness. Yamato was tall and well built, with broad shoulders and slim hips. Koushiro was hardly taller than Eimi, and while his body shape had changed from a child’s to a teen's, he was still scrawny.

Eimi folded the pants and put them back. "Take a look, Koushiro."

Koushiro tried, he really did. But he found himself following Eimi, trailing a few steps behind, looking at whatever she selected. He felt more comfortable around her, and frankly, he was overwhelmed.

After a while, Mimi flounced towards him, her arms full of clothes. "Koushiro-kun! Do you like any of this?"

Takeru approached, laughing. "He can't see any of it! Let me help."

Takeru picked up a shirt from the pile. It was a button down in warm, sunset orange. It immediately felt familiar, but wasn't the point to try new things?

"Look!" Mimi cried. She poked the shirt's left breast pocket. A row of tiny embroidered pineapples lined the top of the hem.

A dopey smile split Eimi's face. "Wow, I... I love it? It's nostalgic, but the shade is easy on the eyes... And the little pineapple detail is so cute!"

"Hmm..." Eimi clearly liked the shirt, so Koushiro would buy it, but he thought the point was to try new things. "I like it," he said slowly. "I'll try it on. But... Is there something similar that's less plain?"

A wicked grin split Takeru's face. "So glad you asked," he said. "This way."

Mimi followed, still showing her selections. Koushiro chose a few to try on, guided more by Eimi's reaction than his own tastes, since nothing had caught his eye yet.

Takeru stopped the group by a rack that burst with color, like a rainbow condensed into fabric. Koushiro blinked, his body's attempt to spare the oversaturated cones in his eyes.

"Um," Eimi began. "Takeru, we're not going on vacation."

Koushiro tentatively lifted a hanger and the attached shirt. It was a button down made of lightweight, soft material. "It seems comfortable," he said with approval.

"Er- well, yes," Eimi agreed. "It's sort of like... a lounge item. People wear them on vacation."

"Oh, yeah!" Mimi chirped. "They're popular in Hawaii, I always see them there. That's why there are so many colors and floral designs."

Koushiro placed the shirt back on the rack, quite missing Eimi's relieved expression, and the way it crumbled when he selected a different shirt.

He held up a red button down covered with palm leaves and pineapples. "It's definitely not plain," Takeru said, his voice oddly delighted.

Koushiro examined the shirt and added it to the "try on" pile. "I think I like it," he said.

"You could sure use a vacation," Mimi said.

Koushiro lifted a fist to his chin. "Is that a requirement to wear these?"

"Nope," Takeru said, grinning. "I mean, they're selling them with all of the other clothes, right?"

Koushiro turned to Eimi to confirm and found a stiff smile. "I guess... that's true..."

Reassured, Koushiro selected another shirt. This one was black and decorated with pink flowers and orange goldfish. Eimi made a strange sound as he added it to the try pile. "Is something wrong?" Koushiro asked.

His girlfriend coughed, then cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

Koushiro nodded, then returned his attention to shopping.

XXX

Mimi and Eimi waited outside of the changing room while Takeru browsed and Koushiro tried on his impressive collection of items. His selections were eclectic, but they were united around a theme: everything Koushiro picked was gaudy.

Mimi had only just returned to Japan, and Eimi had no say in her wardrobe when Mimi lived in Odaiba. But from pictures and the little Mimi had seen in person so far, Eimi's tastes were as sophisticated as a high school freshman's could be. Eimi seemed to prefer solid colors, and made statements with structure instead of pattern.

And she was quietly watching while her boyfriend picked out Hawaiian shirts and button downs adorned with giant goldfish.

Mimi leaned into Eimi with a Chesire cat grin. "How you doin', girl?"

Eimi stared blankly back. "Goldfish, Mimi."

Mimi's smile widened. "I saw 'em.

Eimi held her hands up helplessly. "It's not just me, right? That shirt's an abomination."

Mimi laughed, then slapped a hand to her mouth to smother the sound. Truthfully, that kind of shirt was gaining momentum with male models and idols- in short, it could be charming on boys whose livelihood was pulling off avant garde looks.

Koushiro was likely to look like a walking, on-fire fish tank.

"If you tell him you don't like something, I think he'd put it back," Mimi pointed out.

Eimi sighed and slumped against the wall. "I know. That's why I can't say anything. The whole point of this is for him to figure out his style and interact with the clerks. He shouldn't dress to please me."

"True," Mimi said. And she really did agree. As a friend, Mimi was proud of Koushiro for trying something new. And yet... Wasn't it a girlfriend's duty to prevent her guy from wrecking himself?

Footsteps from the hallway had both girls looking up. Koushiro stepped into the store area, holding his arms awkwardly out.

Mimi's manic smile was meant as a release, giving her just enough control to avoid falling into hysterics. She glanced at Eimi and watched a tiny piece of her soul visibly depart.

"U, um." Eimi cleared her throat a few times. "I think those might be work clothes? Like, for manual work."

Koushiro wore a utilitarian pair of overalls over what looked like a white thermal shirt. It was true that overalls were a hot trend in women's clothing right now, but Mimi hadn't noticed it leaking into menswear. Frankly, Koushiro looked like he had taken a wrong turn and ended up in Tokyo instead of the farm.

"It's comfortable," Koushiro said. "And it seems unique."

That's because no dudes wear that here! Mimi's vision began to swim, obscured by a film of hysterical tears.

"D-do you like them?" Eimi asked. Koushiro's brow knit, his brain churning over clothes instead of data for the first time.

"Um... I think so. Maybe I'll look again..."

Koushiro turned around, and the girls were silent until they heard a door close beyond the wall. "Oh, my god," Mimi whispered.

"I have to tell him," Eimi whispered back. "I have to, right? Like, morally obligated?"

"What if he pairs them with the goldfish shirt?" Mimi asked. What little color Eimi had to spare drained, leaving her looking ill.

"I'll say something," Eimi declared.

#drabble #drabbles #koushiro izumi #eimi anami

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erenfanclub · 7 years ago

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A Lakeside Summer

ereri | 29580 words | T rating | modern au, fantasy, magic, mermaids, fluff

h u g e thank you to @yueirs and @aceveria, two fabulous artistic beans who bring me so much joy~ they are 11 hours ahead and 8 hours behind of me respectively and still we’ve cheered each other on across the time zones and kept up with each other!! this big bang has been a great experience and i owe a lot of that to them~ (plus our wonderful mods!!! endless kudos to keth, shulkie, and michelle ♥)

please enjoy the fic they chose to bless with art, which you can see here:

by yuu | by m | by both!

When Levi’s mother falls ill, he agrees to go live with some distant relatives over the summer while she's recovering. From urban centre to country village, there’s a lot of changes, but Levi plans to keep to himself. That is, until he meets another boy called Eren, down by the nearby lake. Eren is friendly but alone, and acts strangely sometimes, but they're inexplicably drawn to each other. With Eren’s persistence, plus interactions with baby cousin Mikasa and her parents, Levi learns how to enjoy summer and open up a little.

What he doesn't know is that Eren is also keeping a big secret, one that leads Levi to some truths of his own.

Levi steps onto the empty platform, his mother’s words swirling in his head. The whole train journey he had repeated them to himself, remembering her pleading face, how she had looked at him with a gentle smile. Her eyes had been asking him not to argue. And he had relented, because what else could a twelve year old do when they loved their mother? Especially when her cheeks looked so thin.

He hitches the strap of his duffle bag into a better position on his shoulder, glancing behind him as the train begins to pull away, leaving him there. Taking a deep breath, he squares his shoulders, and makes his way into the station.

He knows he is at the right stop, his obsessive checking made sure of that, but he still has to reach into his pocket and pull out the neatly folded note that tells him what to do next. If his distant relatives are on time, then they should just be waiting for him somewhere inside. Although he’ll be living in their house for the next two or three months, Levi doesn’t even know what they look like, just that they’re a couple who share the same surname as him and his mother, live out in the country, and are willing to take Levi in temporarily. The note says to stay put until he’s spotted. It says to be polite and remember his manners and all those other things that good boys should try to be.

Levi stares at the slanted ‘ I love you ’ written at the end in his mother’s handwriting. The pen was shaking against the paper, trembles in her arm transferred there in each line; miles away he can still see the picture the effort it took for her to do this one simple thing. He chews his lip, and then puts the piece of paper back in his shorts.

Once under the shade of the indoors, Levi realises he need not have worried about not being able to find them. The one large room of the station only has two rows of chairs, over half of which are unoccupied. An old lady is talking to an attendant over at the far desk, and Levi sees only three other people around. It’s so unlike the city station he had just come from, where he had been at the mercy of the crowds.

A man with short, light brown hair and a woman with Japanese features and a small baby on her lap are making quiet conversation, seated over by the exit. When Levi readjusts his bag again, it catches the man’s attention, and he immediately smiles and stands up from his chair. The woman lifts the baby onto her hip, fixing the strap of their little denim dungarees and then follows the man over to where Levi waits.

Continue on AO3

#ebb2k17 #my writing #the end of an era!!#i'm still in awe and so humbled that two artists read my summary and put faith in this fic just from that thank you #i wouldn't have had the motivation for this old idea without you~~#ereri

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hxh-secretsanta-2017 · 7 years ago

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yo this is for @sanktpetyrthethird who asked for drug dealer au killugon

honestly thank you cause?? this is not at all a story i would have ever brainstormed let alone written if not for that prompt and ive fallen in love with it and it really really improved my writing workflow to. yknow. plot instead of writing <3000 word fluff pieces (raincheck for acts 2 and 3 my dude. this. kinda got away from me)

(also i started following u cause of this and ur sweetheart!! i was really happy to be writing this for such a cool and awesome person)

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!!!! :D

also thank you to @driftingglass for beta reading a whack of this and helping me to realize i had to cut some prose described by a friend as “violet”

Prologue.

Golden eyes. An earnest smile. Freckles that mark a childhood spent in sunlight.

Killua shakes out his hands, hoping to flick away heart fluttering memories and dread that sinks through his gut like ink in water.

“I need you tomorrow,” says Illumi. His hands drag across the spines of the books, fingers knobby and nails sharp. He eyes the titles with the same vacant, disinterested scowl he has for everything.

Iron supports hold aloft the domed glass ceiling and cast sweeping shadows like eagle’s wings. Fading dusk sky snatches away scarce warmth from the city below.

Killua shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of one of the few couches clustered by the unlit fireplace. He walks past the table stacked high with stolen documents awaiting review by himself, his parents, or senior staff.

As Illumi browses through the children’s books—Killua suppresses a disgusted sneer—he slides a brass ladder along the wall of the circular library. Its wobbly wheels scream in the otherwise silent air. He swallows hard and hopes that he hasn’t awoken Kikyo.

Body sluggish and aching for sleep, he climbs up and finds what he’s looking for by the marks he left in the dust a few days prior. It’s an old farmer’s almanac with folklore stories scattered throughout, factual and fantastical in equal measure.

Killua hops to the floor and runs his thumb along the scarlet cover.

It’s an illustration of a humanoid goat standing over a river of blood. Her apron flies in a vicious wind, and the scissors she holds over her head are open around a crescent moon. She stares straight out at the viewer, defiant and oozing with fury.

Killua passes the book to Illumi and Illumi looks up at him, unblinking. For a moment, Killua thinks he’s going to make him pick out something else, but then he adds it to the small stack balanced in the crook of his elbow.

Illumi fades towards one of the arched entrances, which gapes wide like a jaw.

Killua bites his lip.

“Can I give them to her?”

Illumi pauses, a hand gracefully posed on the archway. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Was there any trouble tonight?”

“Will I see you again?”

Killua can hardly keep himself standing. He rubs the side of his temple with the heel of his palm, before forcing himself to open his eyes as wide as he can manage.

“I’m fine.”

Illumi tut-tuts, sickeningly similar to their mother. “Oh Kil, you must be falling ill. Go rest. I don’t want to lose my best spotter.”

Killua is going to vomit.

He hisses in a breath to argue, but something about the way Illumi raises an eyebrow stops him. For a moment he’s pulled into his brother’s dense orbit. A cold sweat runs down his neck.

Killua’s legs itch, screaming both to run and freeze like ice.

Illumi breaks the stare, and Killua gasps, his breathing heavy.

“Goodnight, Kil,” he says, before vanishing with steps so smooth he may as well have been a ghost.

Killua raises a hand to the base of his neck and rubs his skin in a fruitless attempt to self-soothe.

Illumi is far from good company, but he leaves a vacuum in his wake.

Killua does not enjoy solitude. Loneliness, he has learned to live with; solitude, he abhors.

The library is gray and old. It’s a room that hasn’t seen proper use in years, a forgotten corner of the Zoldyck estate with mildew air that itches Killua’s nose and tastes like dust on his tongue. The books are no more than lifeless stacks of paper, ripped apart from the one who loved—loves—them most. The reading chair in the corner, undisturbed even by the housekeepers, calls out for company.

“Will I see you again?”

Killua grabs the hair at his temples and tries not to scream. For a moment, grief compresses him so hard he’s knocked to his knees.

There are translucent hands wrapped around his arms, grabbing at his neck, twisting the flesh of his thighs. His chest bubbles with panic that wants to spill over into sobs. A reckless desire he’s kept in check for years torrents through his heart, and he wants nothing more than to give in and let it ruin him.

Killua has survived through routine and a lace veil of iron between himself and the world beyond his fingertips, but now the walls are crashing down around him.

A thousand deaths on his hands, and he is going to crack for just one person.

There’s a chance, a risk, so stupidly foolish he hates himself for even considering the possibility.

Killua is a professional murderer. He has the heart of a killer, and the drying blood under his fingertips to prove it. He has never shown mercy, and tonight has yet to become an exception. His record is flawless, and his legacy, should he choose to embrace it, will be unparalleled.

Life stretches out before him, every cranny of it predetermined, and he has learned to accept that, to swallow it, for the sake of his sister.

It’s been months since he was allowed to see her, to rest her head in his lap and answer her questions about the outside. Even the polish on his toes has chipped away.

What do they have left to lose? Pain does not scare him, and they dare not touch her.

***

There are pinup posters on the walls of Milluki’s room, and a strip of lights wrapped around the ceiling that flash green and purple. Monitors are mounted to the walls, and boxes of cables in tangled knots are stored under the desk.

Milluki doesn’t even look up when Killua closes the door.

“What do you want?” he asks, tapping his finger on the mouse. A loading bar ticks slowly on one screen, and a jumble of code Killua has never cared to understand lights up another. Milluki continues working, used to more hysterical interrupters than Killua.

What does he want? Killua pauses for a moment, and then he almost laughs, because any answer even close to honest is surreal.

“Can you do me a favour?”

Milluki chokes at that, before spinning his chair around. There’s a glowing smile on his face, though he’s trying to hide it and failing poorly. A flash of irritation burns on Killua’s cheeks.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Killua grinds his teeth and swallows his pride. “I need a favour.”

Milluki claps his hands together and rocks back in his chair. His eyes sparkle with delight. “Anything for my most darling little brother.”

“Shut up,” says Killua, his nose wrinkling.

Milluki’s enthusiasm is undeterred. “What do you need?”

Killua plunges over the point of no return before he can convince himself of reason. Hesitation, his grandfather always said, is the antidote to good fortune. “I need you to leak the outgoing messages from Zenji’s phone over the past two weeks. It can’t be tied back to us, and no one can find out about it.”

Milluki nods happily, and he’s already closed out one screen for another when he stills. “Wait—does anyone know about this?”

Killua shakes his head, frustrated and impatient. Kikyo could wake at any moment, Silva should be home soon, and Illumi has a knack for appearing when he is least wanted. Which is always.

Milluki sobers and worries his lip with his teeth. “I mean, yeah, I can do it, but…” His eyes slide up to the monitors and then down to Killua’s feet. “It isn’t a good idea.”

“I’ll owe you. Seriously.” Killua watches the door, his palms sweaty and his mouth dry.

Milluki sneers at that. “Obviously, idiot. But if they find out—”

“They won’t. You’re good at what you do.”

Milluki rubs the back of his neck, unconvinced. Killua can’t blame him, but he needs Milluki to help him.

Anxiety rises in his chest and he has to slide his hands into his pockets to keep from running them through his hair.

“Milluki, please.”

Milluki’s eyes shoot up to his. Killua doesn’t know what does it, but something about his voice, or maybe his expression, makes Milluki bite his cheek and shake his head.

He licks his lips, and then huffs a laugh. “Tell you what, Kil,” he says, turning back to his keyboard. “It’ll be one hell of a favour.”

Chapter 1.

Meteor City is a jagged mountain of metal and glass. It imposes over the landscape, cast in silhouette by the setting sun. A hazy cloud of pollution hangs over it like flies on an open wound.

Gon walks towards it along the edge of a dusty road, alone among a thousand others making the journey. Trucks pass by, forming an unbroken caravan from the blurry tree line behind him to a field of canvas tents and sheet metal buildings. People hang from the sides and produce jostles under tarps. A great big billowing cloud of dust forces Gon to wrap his bandana around his mouth and nose.

He stops when he reaches the edge of the shadow cast over the desert scrub. A woman with a weathered face and bandaged hands slows beside him, and the two of them look up, silently.

Somewhere in the staggeringly enormous mass, he’s going to find Ging.

The woman moves on first. It takes Gon a few more minutes, and by the time he starts on again, the shadow had crept to his shins.

The eastern market is the major entry point for the city, but Gon isn’t interested in squeezing his way through the crowd. He cuts off onto a thin path, with dry grass growing high down the center.

The buildings, jutting like crowded teeth, are packed together so tightly that not even a starving alley cat could squeeze its way through. More are under construction. Workers buzz about the scaffolding, and huge machines Gon has only ever seen in an encyclopedia gifted by Abe dig up the ground.

There are open balconies on every story. People lounge in them, wearing fancy clothes and airs.

“Welcome home, sunshine!” shouts a woman, hanging off the arm of a clearly intoxicated man with a hideous mustache.

Gon waves. “I’m just passing through.”

She snorts, covering her mouth with a ring-bejeweled hand. “Sure, of course. Just passing through.”

Gon’s breath hitches and he wants to ask what she means by that, but the two of them giggle off into the room beyond.

He waits to see if they’ll return, and when they don’t, he draws closer.

Gon approaches the building like it’s a frightening animal tensing to bolt.

He reaches out and touches the wall. The cold concrete is unyielding against the warmth of his palm.

Gon walks along the edge of the city as dusk falls around him.

The workers continue clanging, sparks bright and flying in the fading light. Gon is careful not to step underneath the swaying cranes, or cut across through dug out pits.

Eventually, he finds a door propped open with a rock. Workers stroll in and out, chatting to each other in a language Gon doesn’t understand. None of them pay him any mind as he slips inside.

The air is rot and neglect and grease. He slams a hand over his mouth and doubles over in the hallway, gagging. His eyes water, and his lungs burn as he forces himself to breathe.

A man walking out snickers down at him, and Gon’s nose wrinkles. He straightens himself intentionally, pulling the bandana back up over his nose.

Gon swipes a tear out of his eyes. The corridor stretches on, long and punctuated with bursts of light where caged fluorescents flicker. All he can see between the pockets is darkness shifting like falling sand.

A fly buzzes in the nearest light, banging itself against the walls of its confinement.

Gon swallows hard.

Just passing through.

***

Gon sits on scaffolding made of plywood and cheap metal, his feet dangling over oblivion. The bridge connects two different buildings. The bustling neon party scene on one side fades into the almost idyllic business row on the other, where plants hang on the walls and shoes squeak across vinyl flooring.

Gon takes another bite of his sandwich and clicks his heels together, watching people stream across the dizzying sprawl of other connectors below.

When he was young, Mito got him an ant farm. Sometimes it spilled sand all over his windowsill, but he still loved it. Gon could watch the workers dig for hours. The city is the same; something about it is mesmerizing.

He’s been meandering for a day and a half. Whale Island, for all its beauty, was plagued by familiarity. Gon grew up around the same four hundred faces and a bitterly frigid line to his exploration quite literally in the sand. Meteor City is incomparably dense with wonders.

He found a shop that sold glass butterfly charms in every colour of the rainbow and watched the artist make one.

It dangles around his neck, now. A luxury he can’t afford, but one he couldn’t say no to, either.

He passed by a funeral procession marching slowly through the street, percussion instruments made of wood and beads clacking. The woman leading them wore a bone white tunic and red shoes.

He looked at park from an observation window, unable to afford the fee to enter. It had a high ceiling and ivy climbing the walls. Gigantic lights fed the lawn, and a handful of couples were clustered on benches under carefully pruned apple trees.

Gon finishes his lunch and shrugs on his backpack, careful not to let it fall.

The next market he passes through has a ceiling painted to look like a midday sky. Dragons swirl through thick cumulus clouds and swoop down the walls. The stalls are open and cascade throughout the entire floor. Support columns are painted green and plastered with posters. Most of them are written in a language he doesn’t recognize.

He skirts around an open vat of oil, manned by an old woman with bags under her eyes and whiskers at the corners of her mouth. She dips meat down in strips, and they sizzle on the surface. A mother with a toddler in tow buys a bag, and pays by tapping the back of her phone to a metal plate drilled into the table.

Gon is pushed onwards by the swelling crowd.

The Hunter Association, when he finally finds it, is marked by the logo on a handleless door.

Gon hops onto the bridge to it. Both above and below, he can only spot three other entrances to the building.

A voice crackles from a speaker.

“Name?”

Gon tugs the collar of his shirt. “Gon. Kite sent me. He said to tell you ‘strawberry blackwater’ and to apologize for using an old pass code.”

“I can’t let you in with an old pass code.”

“He said I should mention I’m Ging’s son.”

There’s a long silence.

The speaker crackles, and Gon can make out indistinct words spoken too far away to be picked up clearly.

“Fine.”

The door slides open with a chime.

There’s no one on the other side. Gon pokes down the hallway, expecting to be interrupted once again by whoever was watching the door, but he’s only met by dead air.

All the hallways are painted the same grating shade of gray, and every door he tries to open is locked and beeps at him angrily. He’s steered like cattle through the building by short stairwells and dead ends until he stumbles upon a lobby.

The room is large, white, and brightly lit. There are a few people talking in clusters of two or three. Gon doesn’t recognize any of them. None of them smile when they look his way.

He fists the hem of his sleeves, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and his knuckles. There isn’t a line at the front desk.

“I’m looking for Ging Freecss.”

The woman behind the high counter snorts. “I’m sorry,” she deadpans, flipping the page of her magazine.

Gon pouts. “I want to see him. Do you know where he is?”

“Does anyone?”

Gon hums, considering the question. “He probably does.”

A ghost of a smile graces her face. She looks up and gives a snide scowl. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Gon isn’t sure what to say, so he says nothing. She goes back to reading, though he can tell by the way her eyes aren’t moving that she’s watching him peripherally. Gon bites his lip and glances over his shoulder.

Apparently accepting that he isn’t going to leave, she sighs and drops the magazine down. This time, her smile is tight and annoyed. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Ging.”

***

There was a long retired sailor on Whale Island, so old that even Abe could only shrug when asked his name. He lived alone in the hills, where yellow wildflowers spilled across the forest floor like honey, and came into town when he needed to replace a failing tool or stock up on food. He had eyebrows like scraggly wire and shuffled, though he didn’t use a cane.

One lazy summer afternoon, gnats buzzing in the air, Gon stumbled upon him plucking weeds in his back garden. Compelled by nothing but curiosity, Gon pushed up his sleeves and helped. They spent a few hours in silent companionship, and at the end of it Gon was invited into the well-maintained kitchen to share a blackberry pie. Gon breathed on a spoon and managed to stick it to his cheek; the old sailor guffawed, his nose wrinkled.

A couple of years after that, Gon found his body in the woods.

At first, it looked as though he was sleeping against one of the apple trees, but the smell, the flies, and the stillness of his chest told Gon otherwise.

Bisky reminds Gon of him.

It’s her eyes that do it; soulful and heavy, despite a body that doesn’t look a day over sixteen. Even slouched, with elbows on her knees, her presence fills the air.

The lounge is chaotic. Flashing lights cut through smoke. Music blasts, and partygoers holler. Gon slips through the crowd, offering muttered apologies as he squeezes between dancers.

Wide support columns curate his view. They cut up the lounge like a warren, giving him only snippets of her form as he makes his way over. Gon ducks under an arch and jogs down the half-flight of stairs.

He slides into the seat across from her. She jolts from whatever she was thinking about.

“Bisky?”

“Gon?”

For a moment, they float in their own bubble, separate from the rest of the world.

She leans towards him, eyes wide.

They’re interrupted by a young man tripping on his own shoes. He catches himself on Gon’s shoulder and nearly tumbles into his lap. Gon helps him back to his feet, insisting that it’s not a bother as the man blushes fiercely. He scampers off.

The conflicted swirl in Bisky’s expression is gone when he sits back down.

“You’re so much like him,” she says.

Gon’s chest swells with shy pride.

***

His throat is warm and fuzzy, and his senses are enjoyably dulled. His inhibition, thin at the best of times, has been shredded like wet paper.

Bisky is either a fantastic influence or a terrible one.

She hollers and Gon grunts, his elbow straining, sweat burning down his forehead. The woman across from him narrows her eyes and pushes harder against his palm. Gon’s muscles are clenched so tightly he can hardly breathe.

The back of his hand slams into the table. There’s a roar, and people in the crowd push him by his shoulders as he catches his breath. The woman offers him a handshake and a roguish smile as a conciliatory participation prize.

“My turn, my turn,” insists Bisky, sliding into the seat after him.

The woman, graying at her temples, quirks her lips into a smirk. She stands to whispers something in Bisky’s ear, and Bisky laughs.

Gon is knocked back by the swell of the excited onlookers; he lets himself drift, and while he doesn’t see it, he sure as hell hears it when Bisky pulls off a victory.

They sit beside each other on a quiet step. Bisky scribbles out something on the back of a napkin and shoves it into his hand.

“He’s a lightweight too,” she says.

Gon groans. “‘M fine,” he lies.

Bisky can’t hide the chuckle that bounces her shoulders. “Of course you are.” She claps her hands together. “Right. Let’s go get you settled, young man.”

The true face of the headquarters is nothing like the monotony from earlier.

Every hallway is decorated in a different style. One is lined from floor to ceiling with wooden masks, whose eyes seem to follow them. Another is snow white, with the silhouettes of deer somehow moving across the wall.

Bisky has to drag him along by the wrist; Gon keeps wandering off to gander.

Her apartment is luxurious. The ceilings are high, and from them hang ornate chandeliers. The carpet is thick between his toes, and the paint on the walls looks new. He can only stay for the night, she says, because she’s leaving in the morning and the place will be turned over to someone else.

Gon curls up on the couch and she brings him a glass of water, a pillow, and a fond ruffle of his hair.

The night wasn’t what he was hoping for. He’s disappointed he didn’t get to meet Ging, even if he had a fun time. All Bisky knows is that he’s off on some special assignment and planning to come back soon. It’s enough for Gon, though.

He’s waited his whole life. He can wait a little longer.

Chapter 2.

Gon stops outside the restaurant and triple checks the napkin. He’s supposed to meet with the friend of a friend of a friend.

Bisky’s words swam over his pounding head during breakfast. He isn’t sure whether he’s meeting with a thirty-something martial arts instructor or a guy his age with a buzz cut. Either way, he isn’t looking forward to it.

The other key detail that he missed was what job he was applying for, exactly.

He pokes his head inside. The restaurant is empty; not one of the three round chairs has a guest, and there’s no one behind the counter.

The walls are yellow stucco and the splashboard behind the workspace is functional black diamond plate. There’s a chandelier with tacky plastic jewels that reflect spots of light onto the walls and ceiling. The melamine tables are worn and chipped, and the chairs have awkwardly low backs.

It is, Gon thinks, the least welcoming restaurant he has ever had the misfortune of visiting.

There’s a bang in the back room and Gon jumps. The door swings open. A man with a willowy build and unruly blonde hair stalks up to the counter, tying his striped apron behind his back.

“Can I help you,” he sighs venomously, as though he would rather swallow spiders than even consider doing so.

“Bisky sent me,” says Gon.

The man’s nose wrinkles with disgust and he rolls his eyes. “Great.”

Gon rubs his hand along the back of his head and passes over her note. The man holds the napkin out at arms length before pulling glasses from his pocket. He mouths the words as he reads them, and Gon taps his fingers on the empty glass display case as he waits for him to finish.

“Bisky didn’t tell me what KP stood for but—”

“Kurapika. Me. My name.”

“Oh.”

Kurapika sets the paper down and pulls his glasses back like a headband. His hair is tucked, revealing dazzling ruby red earrings.

“Who are you.”

“Gon Freecss. I came here looking for my dad, but—”

“Gon, I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that I do not care. What do you know about running?”

“Um, I’m fast, I think? I’ve never really raced anyone though, so—”

“Okay.” Kurapika chuckles a little, his eyes sliding closed and his smile genuine for the first time. Gon squirms, certain that he’s stepped over one of those invisible lines that everyone else can see. “Go tell Bisky not to waste my time.”

Gon’s heart plummets. “I’m a fast learner.”

Kurapika stares at him unflinchingly.

“Also Bisky just left this morning, so I can’t do that.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence. Kurapika stares through him, his eyes glassy and his mouth pressed flat, before untying his apron and hanging it up on a hook beside the fridge.

“You’re from outside the city.”

Gon tilts his head, wondering how Kurapika could tell.

“You’re never going to know it as well as someone who’s grown up here.”

“I’m good at—”

Kurapika holds up a finger, turning on his heels. His smile curls sharper. Kurapika shapes his words carefully, like Gon is a rabbit he’s leading into a snare. “How long did it take you to get to the Hunter’s Association headquarters?”

Gon winces. “A couple days.”

Kurapika holds out his relaxed hands, palms flat. “That’s only a seventeen minute trip from here if you know the way, Gon.”

Gon gasps. The pieces click into place, and he relishes in the rush of having figured out the test.

“No it isn’t.”

Kurapika bites his tongue. “Yes, it is.”

“It only took me twelve.”

Kurapika freezes. His eyes open wide, but he recovers quickly into a slightly less confident scowl. “You said it took you days, Gon.”

Gon nods avidly. “Yeah, the first time. Then when I came back it was only twenty minutes because I knew to use the tunnels way below everything. And then I was bored because the restaurant was closed for the night, so I went back and forth a few times.”

“And you shaved it down to twelve minutes?”

Gon beams. “Yup! It only really works one way, though. There’s this place where the boards are really close between the buildings and you can hop down and it saves you from having to do”—Gon demonstrates with his hands—“the hook thing.”

“Show me.”

***

Kurapika stands with him on the top board and shakes his head slowly. Gon can’t wipe the smile off his face. He points at the grated metal, only seven feet below.

“It’s—”

“Twelve minutes. It’s actually twelve minutes.” Kurapika licks his lips and puts his hands on his hips. He stares at the path below like he doesn’t believe it.

Maybe it wasn’t a test. Either way, Gon’s pretty sure he passed.

With practiced grace, Kurapika holds out a hand. Gon shakes it firmly. Kurapika’s teeth grind and he pulls away, clenching and unclenching his fingers.

Gon rocks back and forth from his toes to his heels. “I said I was a fast learner, didn’t I?”

“You did, you did, you absolutely did,” says Kurapika, his voice dazed. “I take it back. No guarantees, but I can try to find you something.”

Gon hollers at the victory. Someone far above shouts down at him to be quiet. Gon apologizes.

“So what now?” he asks.

For the first time, Kurapika’s smile is softened by fondness. “Try to learn the area around the restaurant as best you can. Do you have a phone?”

Gon passes it over and Kurapika presses a few buttons before tapping their backs together.

“I’ll call when I know one way or another.” He stills and rubs his thumb over his lips. “Do you have a place to stay?”

***

“It’s temporary.”

Gon leans against the wall and bites his lip. It’s the first true residential area he’s visited. Kurapika had to tap his phone on a screen to slide open the front gate.

The hallway has tiled vinyl flooring, and the mounted lights are soft. The main corridor branches off like a fractal, what must have once been a wide open space subdivided into a maze of small apartments. It’s nicer than most of the places Gon has been so far, which is to say that there are no suspiciously dark stains on bare concrete.

Across the narrow hallway the door to apartment forty-five opens. A boy with short black hair, not much younger than Gon himself, steps out, carrying a handful of empty bags.

“Like hell it’ll be temporary, Kurapika.”

The boy’s eyes widen and Gon mirrors the look.

“Just a few days. He doesn’t have anywhere—”

“Why can’t you take him in?”

With a polite wave the boy runs off down the hallway, favoring his right leg.

“Because my place is—”

There’s a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Fine.”

Kurapika leans out, a smug smile lighting up his face. “Come on in.”

The apartment is a long, narrow room. There’s a kitchen at the very back with mismatched stools. Closer, the walls are lined with cubbies full of plastic totes. There’s a low circular table between them, and one of the boxes is open on the ground beside it, folders spread out chaotically.

Next there’s an unmade bed that juts out from the wall, right beside the door to what Gon presumes is the washroom. Across from the bed is a couch, sandwiched on either side by a bookshelf and a dresser.

The man beside Kurapika is, somehow, exactly what Gon would have expected if he had only seen the room.

He’s tall but slouches, his glasses seem comically useless, and the twist of his lips is crass. His hair is dented on the side from bed head, and his button-up shirt is half untucked.

“I’m Gon, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand with a beaming smile.

The man looks up at the ceiling in a silent prayer for patience before accepting the handshake. “Leorio.”

Gon sets his backpack down and clasps his hands behind his back. Kurapika wrings his wrists. Leorio rubs his eyes. The silence is awkward, and Gon jumps to break it.

“What are those papers?” he asks.

Leorio glances over at the table. “Records.”

“Oh. For what?”

“I’m a doctor.”

“Why?”

Leorio inhales through his nose then exhales through his mouth. His stare turns to Kurapika, who has conveniently fled to the kitchen.

Dinner is made in near silence. Gon chops the vegetables put in front of him while Kurapika and Leorio bicker in low tones over the pot on the stove. He wonders why they’re friends if they spend so much time arguing, but maybe that’s what friends are supposed to be like. Gon isn’t exactly an expert; there was only one other kid on Whale Island, and she moved away years ago for high school.

They’re eating soup, lined up on the counter stools, when Gon tries again.

“So why did you want to be a doctor?”

Leorio drops his spoon and scowls at Kurapika. “Was he being an ass earlier, or…?”

“I don’t know,” says Kurapika, covering his full mouth with a hand.

“What are you talking about?” asks Gon.

The two of them look up at him, and then to each other. Kurapika shrugs. Leorio sighs, and rubs a fleck of broth off his cheek.

“A long time ago a friend of mine got sick, but healthcare in Meteor City is expensive and shoddy, so, y’know.” Leorio twirls his hand, watch clinking. “I wanted to help.”

“Did he die?” asks Gon.

Kurapika sucks in a breath. “G—”

“Yeah,” says Leorio.

Gon bites his cheek.

He swirls his spoon in his soup, and a carrot bubbles up from the bottom. He tries to imagine what that would feel like—losing Abe was hard enough, and he’d been able to find comfort in her long life well lived. Gon’s chest unravels at the thought of losing a friend.

“I’m sorry.”

Leorio looks down. Kurapika rests a hand on his arm.

“Thank you, Gon,” says Kurapika. “Now finish your soup.”

Gon cleans the plates while Leorio digs out extra bedding from the dresser. Kurapika has left, something about needing to sleep before his next shift started.

“You’re getting the couch ‘cause I’m too tall for it,” says Leorio, trying in vain to get fitted sheets to work on couch cushions.

“Okay.”

Gon lies with his back to the room. Leorio snores, like Mito does.

Gon sleeps easy.

***

Gon flips over the work phone. It’s sturdier than his own, and designed to snap closed. He clicks it open and shut as Kurapika explains the process to him.

Again.

“Deliver the package, tap the back of your phone to theirs, if they’re the right person it’ll tell you, and if they aren’t, I’ll get an alert. Do you have any questions?”

“Nope.” Gon reaches for the cardboard box, not much larger than a slice of bread, and Kurapika slides it down the counter, out of his reach.

“I can be there in five, six if you need me armed.”

“It’ll be fine,” says Gon, stretching on his tiptoes to grab the package. He flies out before Kurapika can launch into another lecture. Lectures, Gon has discovered in the two weeks since meeting him, are something Kurapika is fond of.

He weaves through the buildings, secure in his bearings, slowly ascending staircase by staircase. Waiting for Dalzollene’s approval was boring, but it did give him time to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

The meeting itself is mundane. There’s a woman waiting right where expected, and when they click their phones together, they both receive a cheery green check mark.

He passes the box, she slips off into the crowd, and he returns back to Kurapika, where the next delivery is waiting.

Running, Gon discovers, is something he enjoys a lot.

It takes him a few days to conclude what, exactly, he’s carrying, but once he does it hardly bothers him. Who cares what other people want to do if it means Gon is getting paid to fly through the city?

There are three of them working out of the restaurant. He’s a runner, as is Zushi, a barrel-chested boy with stony expressions but a kind heart. Kurapika is their manager, and he reports to “the brass”, as Leorio calls them. Gon isn’t sure what “the brass” has to do with him, so he keeps to running.

There are a few regulars. The woman he met his first trip was one, as are twin boys down in the factories with equally devious grins and clothes that seem intentionally picked to set them apart. There’s a gangly teenager who always meets him behind a heart-pounding night club, and a woman who insists on double checking their tap every time.

Gon hears a new language every day, sees a new pastry behind shop windows. He meets people he never could have imagined, and every night his dreams are fed by pushed horizons. It’s like he’s twelve again; his heart soars with anticipation of adventures to come.

***

“Whale Island?”

Gon nods, slurping from his bowl of noodles. The woman across from him with a sleeve of tattoos and an impractically big septum piercing smiles warmly. She leans back in her creaky chair.

“I passed through there a summer, way back when.”

Gon bites back a pang of homesickness. “Yeah?”

She clasps her hands behind her head and smiles. “Just for a night. Beautiful place. Miss the sky.”

Gon does, too. He’ll return someday, though.

He calls Mito in the evening, and they talk for hours.

The mail system is unreliable, Kurapika says, but Gon still sends her the glass butterfly. It made him happy. He hopes it makes her happy, too.

***

Leorio, despite his big talk, lets Gon stay.

After a few months, Gon is grunting along with him and Kurapika as they maneuver a second bed into the apartment. There’s barely room to squeeze it in against the wall, and only about a foot is left between it and Leorio’s, but it’ll do.

***

When Gon runs into trouble, he’s unprepared. He breathes through his mouth and grips the edge of the cushioned table as Leorio’s fingers brush over his nose. He swallows blood, and the slick, thick feeling of it travelling down his throat almost makes him gag. Leorio sets it, and Gon can’t help but cry out. Kurapika winces, hovering over Leorio’s shoulder.

“What happened?” he asks, eyes stormy.

“I got into a fight,” says Gon. Leorio’s mouth quivers as he fights back a snicker.

Kurapika sighs and rubs his forehead with his index finger and thumb. “Yes, but what happened.”

Gon shrugs. “I was just walking.”

Call it a fight is honestly an overstatement; more accurately, Gon got his lights punched out and woke up with his face against the ground.

Kurapika insists he learn to defend himself, after that.

***

Firearms are rare in the city. The Ten Dons ban them outside of their own use; with the thin walls and shabby floors, it’s too dangerous to risk lackadaisical use, so confrontations come down to martial ability.

Gon coughs and lets his head loll back onto the springy wooden floor. His instructor—an old student of Bisky’s—pads closer.

“You’re completely uncoordinated,” says Wing.

“I’ve never done this before,” says Gon, rolling onto his hands and knees before bouncing to his feet.

“That much I could tell.”

Gon sputters a laugh and rubs the back of his head. Wing crosses his arms.

His teacher is coiled muscle, veiled by unassuming, baggy clothes. The studio is an extension of himself, with its wonky fans and chipped mirrors. Overhead, the neighbors shout each other down.

Gon takes a deep breath, wincing when his ribs ache, and resets into the stance Wing showed him. They move slowly; Wing explains every step as he’s doing it, and Gon occasionally interrupts to ask for clarification.

Two hours pass in the blink of an eye.

Gon ties his laces as Wing talks him through the studio’s schedule.

He learns, slowly, about the people he’s working for. Some of it is from Kurapika, but Kurapika is stingy, dispensing information in palatable drips. Most of it, he gathers from the people he meets.

The Nostrades are just one of the many families tied to Ritz Clan, which is just one of ten clans that operate quasi-governments throughout the city. They control a pocket on the border of the Ritz’s territory, and are infamous for the daughter’s hobby of collecting human body parts. A grim fascination, Gon thinks.

They are also, he learns, infuriatingly difficult to get the drop on. They smell weakness like bloodhounds, and many suspect Light Nostrade is trying to worm his way into the Ritz’s inner circle. How, exactly, no one can tell him. Smoke chokes out the sun, but no one can find the fire.

When Gon isn’t working, he’s exploring.

He charts his way through the ground level, where he finds the crematoriums, water treatment plants, and livestock pens. It’s dingy. The walls are caked in grime, and he finds more than a handful of bodies rotting in the stagnant water between the buildings. But it does provide the most direct routes he can find. Usually, it isn’t worth it to climb down and back up the stairs, but he notes the potential.

It’s normal for him, now, to go weeks without seeing the sun. His eyes burn when he does climb up to the roofs. He can’t tell if it’s because of the light or the pollution. Probably both.

His martial ability improves through hours of practice with Wing and hours more alone with Zushi. Zushi is an enthusiastic teacher, thrilled whenever Gon asks him to stay a little longer.

Sometimes his lessons are less like lessons, though, and more like excuses to show how good he is at trapping Gon in a headlock.

Kurapika begins splitting the risky jobs between them more evenly. Gon learns how to slide unnoticed through crowds, treating the markets and echoing apartment complexes like the forest.

Bisky does not return. Ging does not return. Kite does not return.

Gon keeps waiting.

Baise, one of the Neon Nostrade’s bodyguards, takes two weeks off to visit family. Kurapika suggests Gon fill in, and in a burst of generous optimism, Dalzollene lets him.

Standing outside a locked door for hours or shuffling awkwardly through crowds isn’t as much fun as running. It’s exhausting to have to assume the worst of everyone. Neon likes him, though, so Gon ends up spending more and more time in her entourage.

One afternoon, he has two hours to kill before the next run. He sits in the restaurant, flipping through a newspaper in a language he can’t read, frowning at the pictures. Zushi walks in and greets Kurapika formally. Kurapika grunts from his stool behind the counter, but his eyes stay glued to his phone.

“Hey, Gon.”

Zushi stands with his back straight and his mouth schooled into a professional scowl.

“Howdy,” says Gon, smiling up at him.

“Don’t even fucking start,” says Kurapika.

“Hello,” says Gon. He folds away the newspaper and drops it on the table. Zushi is robotic as he pulls out a chair and sits down.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out. With me.”

“Sure.” Gon reaches for his jacket. “Hey Kurapika, we’re—”

Zushi waves his hands in the air, cutting Gon off. “No, like, out.”

“Yeah,” says Gon. “Sure.”

“Like a date. Together.”

Gon brows pull together. “Was I supposed to say no?”

Kurapika blurts a laugh, which is quickly cut off by his hand slapping over his mouth. Gon fidgets with the hair at the base of his skull.

Zushi’s cheeks are bright red. The colour spills up his ears and over his forehead. “You like me?” asks Zushi, voice cracking.

Gon shrugs. “The point of a date is to find out, right?”

Zushi is a wreck as they make their way to the karaoke bar.

Gon tries to get him laughing, but it’s in vain.

Zushi is cute, Gon thinks. He’s fun, and Gon likes spending time with him. Gon isn’t sure if that’s a crush, though.

The karaoke bar is loud and bright and Gon hates it upon arrival, but Zushi is a balloon ready to burst at the next morsel of air, so Gon goes along with it. There are, unsurprisingly, no versions of the songs he knows in the Whale Island dialect. Gon flounders, trying to keep up with lyrics that are close but ever so slightly off.

When it’s Zushi’s turn, he stands with white knuckles around the microphone. The words start to scroll and his cheeks puff out. There’s a tremor to his bottom lip.

“Why don’t we leave,” says Gon.

Zushi breathes a sigh of relief and agrees eagerly.

They end up tucked in the back of a donut shop, sitting across from each other.

“Sorry, that was bad,” apologizes Zushi. Again.

“It’s fine,” says Gon, flashing a smile.

“I’m not sure this was a good idea,” says Zushi, his hands rubbing each other on the table.

Gon nods his earnest agreement. “I don’t think we’d make a good couple.”

Zushi’s face falls at the confirmation, and his gaze drifts over to the wall, plastered with amateur paintings on sale. Gon’s gut twists.

“But I like spending time with you. And someday, it’ll be really funny that we went on a terrible date.”

Zushi laughs nervously. “Really bad.”

Gon beams. “The worst.”

Zushi smiles shyly and takes a sip of his coffee. He taps his fingers on the sides of his mug for a moment, looking down at the floor. “It won’t be weird?”

Gon shakes his head. “Nope, promise. Here.”

He holds out a pinky and Zushi reluctantly takes it. Gon chants as Zushi watches him with befuddled interest.

“—sealed with a kiss!”

Zushi’s face turns beet red. “No thanks,” he says, voice tight.

Gon pushes their thumbs together. “Mwah.”

“Oh.”

Zushi sighs, his shoulders sinking down in relief. Gon can’t help but snicker. Zushi reaches over and slaps his arm.

A half-hour later Zushi has recovered to his regular self.

“So, how did you end up a runner?” asks Gon, stealing crumbs off his plate.

Zushi lifts a hand to swat him away, but Gon, ever a careful thief, escapes unscathed. Gon sticks out his tongue. Zushi gives him a stink eye before letting it go.

“I need a job while I’m training to take the Hunter exam,” he says, twisting his mug back and forth by its handle.

“Oh,” says Gon.

A plate crashes across the room. Gon springs to his feet. There’s a woman with her hands over her mouth and an embarrassed wobble in her voice as she bends down to pick up the pieces. The boy behind the counter tugs her back up by her arm, insisting she not worry about it. Reassured that no one is hurt, Gon leaves them be.

Zushi shuffles in his chair as Gon sits back down. “Your dad’s one, right? Don’t you wanna be too?”

Gon hums, a thumb on his lip. “Not really. I don’t think I have to be, so I don’t see the point of it.”

“You don’t see the point of it?”

“It’s a lot of work for perks I don’t care about.” The boozy lounge, free alcohol, and splendid apartment are not things he desires.

Zushi balks. “It’s not about the perks. It’s about being a protector of the city.”

Gon raises an eyebrow. His expression of disbelief morphs into a wince. “My dad is hardly a protector of the city.”

Zushi’s eye bulge wide. “Dude. Your dad is like, on some quest to find out what killed the last chairman. If that’s not protecting the city, I don’t know what is.”

Gon bobs his head back and forth. “Fixing the bridges? Upgrading the water mains?” He gestures vaguely towards Leorio’s practice, fourteen stories and three buildings away. “Making healthcare accessible?”

Zushi opens and closes his mouth like a fish, before snapping it shut and glowering down at his mug. His eyebrows are scrunched together like he’s trying to solve a difficult puzzle.

Gon shrugs a shoulder. “You don’t need to be a Hunter to do any of that.”

“Maybe,” says Zushi. “But I still wanna do it.” His mouth is set with determination.

Gon’s eye crinkle fondly. “For what it’s worth, if anyone should be a Hunter, it’s you.”

Zushi’s eyes flutter in shock. He sniffs and looks up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Gon.”

Chapter 3.

They issue him a firearm.

It’s coded to respond to his fingerprints and will only be activated when he’s on duty. Further precautions include a weekend of training at a facility on the other side of the city, jointly run and funded by the Ten Dons.

Gon enjoys the walk, and he enjoys the breaks from the classroom when he has nothing to do but wander around. Training is miserable, though. No one will crack a smile, and distrust leaves the air hot and sticky. By the time it’s over, he’s relieved to return home to Leorio’s cooking and loud complaining about work.

Kurapika tells him he suits it and the holster.

Gon’s face puckers at the compliment. He doesn’t like suiting something crafted to kill.

The gun has no functional affect on guard duty because nothing ever happens. Gon watches doors that stay closed and scouts streets free of danger.

In the copious, wretchedly still free time the job gives him, he begins to draw out a map of the city. He doesn’t need the guidebook, but maybe it can be a birthday present for Zushi.

At the very least, it makes his time feel less squandered.

***

Kurapika is late. Gon stands outside the locked up restaurant, rocking from the balls of his feet to his heels, humming a song Leorio’s been blasting for weeks.

Kurapika is never late.

It’s a guard night, so maybe he just forgot to meet with Gon before heading to the estate.

Gon texts, and then he calls. Nothing.

He bites his lip and scratches the back of his head. They’re going to be late at this rate.

Kurapika’s apartment is a shabby place. Gon’s shoes crunch on broken glass as he steps around buckets overflowing with water leaking from the ceiling. Kurapika can afford better, but says he doesn’t see what the point would be if he’s almost never there. (Most nights, he sleeps on the couch in Leorio’s apartment, anyway.)

Gon grabs the key tapped to the back of the mailbox and knocks as a formality before walking in. For a professional bodyguard, Kurapika is comically lax with his own security.

The room isn’t much more than a box. There’s a mattress on the floor, and a milk crate flipped over to support a microwave. Clothes, which theoretically belong in the shallow dresser, are scattered over the desk, chair, and bed.

Gon hears a scratchy moan in the bathroom.

Kurapika is doubled over the toilet. Sweat soaks through his white tank top, but he’s shivering. Hair is plastered to his forehead.

He looks up at Gon, his eyes dark and narrowed.

“Let me die,” he hisses as Gon hoists him up, slinging one of Kurapika’s arms over his shoulders. Kurapika leans heavily into Gon’s side, his free hand clasping at the fabric of Gon’s shirt.

“Leorio would cry,” says Gon, walking them towards the main room. “And he cries enough already.”

Kurapika fixes him with a sour pucker.

“Like when you sent the cat.”

Kurapika frowns and stumbles as Gon transfers him to the door frame to dig up a jacket.

“The cat picture?”

“Yeah.”

“It made him cry?”

Gon presses his lips flat.

Kurapika’s brows furrow, then his face falls into weary but fond amusement.

“I can see it.”

***

Leorio, freshly awoken from his night shift recovery, stares down a greasy Kurapika.

Kurapika pinches his lips tight, his hand still on the doorknob.

“Sit down,” Leorio sighs, grabbing Kurapika by the scruff of his tank top and pulling him back until his knees fold against Gon’s bed.

Gon drops their pill bottle haul from the bathroom cabinet beside him.

“I have to go now,” he says, shooting a worried look to Kurapika.

“Then go,” says Leorio. “I’ve got him.”

***

The Nostrade estate sits on top of the territory they control like skin on the surface of lukewarm soup. There are big glass ceilings over the ballrooms and jars of preserved body parts decorating alcoves.

Gon changes in the armory and barely swings into the front lobby before Neon and Eliza walk down the spiral staircase from the bedrooms.

“Where’s Kurapika?” asks Baise, her teeth gritted and her smile forced.

Gon twists his heel in the carpet. “Sick. We’ll be okay without him.”

Baise’s smile tightens and her eyes bulge. “You can’t make decisions like that on your own.”

“We’ll be fine,” says Gon.

Her glare is disgusted, but she drops the subject.

“Good evening,” says Gon, cheery, as Neon slides off her slippers, using Eliza’s offered arm for balance.

“Good evening Mr. Freecss,” she says, voice light and airy.

For all the time she spends out of the house, it’s rarely for her own pleasure. On nights when she’s alone, or alone as she can be, Neon is always bubbly.

They take an elevator to the theater.

It’s one of the services the Nostrade family operates. Not only do they control the drug market, but they monopolize most amenities, too, from water to light.

The elevators, old and prone to failure, are especially expensive.

Eliza and Neon chat in the balcony lobby, Baise and Gon close at their sides. There are two other high-ranking mafia members present, but Gon can’t name them or the older guards that circle them.

A young man Neon smiles brightly at is telling her disconnected facts about the theater’s architecture when Gon spots trouble.

Kurapika rubs his eyes as he makes his way over. Gon slips away to intercept him.

“What are you thinking?” he hisses, grabbing Kurapika by the elbow. Kurapika shrugs him off.

“I’m good to work. Leorio gave me medicine. I’m feeling better.”

Gon scowls his disapproval.

Kurapika’s nose is red and his eyes are puffy. His hair is damp, and Gon suspects he washed it in the sink.

“We can handle it without you.”

Kurapika doesn’t bother replying. He steps around Gon to catch up with the rest of the group.

Lights flash, and the shuffle for seats begins.

The theatre is paneled with dark wood, and the house lights are so dim that it takes minutes to adjust. There are private balconies, rows of seats, and a pit down the center of the room. The stage itself is shallow and cramped.

Beads, in long, dazzling strings, are hung along the spines of the faux dome. Every lighting effect and curtain lifts sends sparkling ripples out like waves.

Gon stands at the back of the balcony, beside the door, and Kurapika slumps beside him. From here the ballet is hidden by curtains red as dried blood, but Gon doesn’t care for it much anyway.

Eliza, Neon, and Baise sit in the front of two rows. Eliza and Neon chat idly, even as the music begins. Neon’s elaborate hairstyle bobs with every laugh. Baise taps her fingers on the armrest impatiently.

The audience settles. Before the performance, after it, and during intermission are the high risk times. Between those, it’s smooth sailing.

Gon zones out and watches the beads.

It’s twenty minutes into the performance when Neon abruptly stands, turns to face him directly, and says: “whatever you do, don’t touch your weapon.”

Gunfire.

Kurapika pushes off from the wall and nearly stumbles to the ground, but he manages to grab Eliza and yank her down as Baise does the same for Neon.

The music abruptly halts. There are screams, and the floor shakes as people run to get away.

Someone has to sweep the emergency route before they can move on. Usually, it would be Kurapika’s job.

“Wait with them,” says Gon, slipping out before he can be stopped.

Kurapika shouts, but his voice is cut off by the door closing. There’s a click as Baise locks it.

A curved hallway with creamy walls services all of the balcony seats. It’s an unbroken oval, with part of it used to access the catwalks over the stage. Gon jogs around it as it fills with a panicked crowd.

People shout and push past each other in a dash for the exits. A man stumbles to his knees, and Gon swerves to help him back to his feet.

Gon finds himself bumping into shoulders and getting in the way. It’s useless to try and fight the flow. He steps aside to the wall and lets people pass.

The shots came from inside the theatre, but Gon didn’t have a view of the seats. They could have been fired by a licensed guard, or someone might be running around with a cracked weapon. Neither possibility is good news.

He doesn’t know the target, and he doesn’t know if bystanders are injured.

Kurapika will have almost certainly reported the incident by now, so backup will be on its way. With so many unknown variables, staying put until then might be the smart decision—or, they might be in harm’s way.

Gon rubs his temples. There isn’t an obvious answer. Combined with Neon’s ominous warning—if anything working for the Nostrades has taught him, it’s to listen to her warnings—he doesn’t know what to do.

The crowd is thinning and being still increases his visibility, so Gon moves on. When he reaches the heavy curtain separating backstage from the audience, he draws it back without hesitation.

No one.

There are big stage lights, carts full of props, and painted set pieces.

Gon passes by the door out to the catwalks. A bucket of fake snow is tipped over beside it.

His phone rings. Kurapika. Gon snaps it closed.

On the other side of the next curtain, the hallway is empty. The silence is eerie, dropping over him like a shroud.

Gon has never seen it still like this before. The unfamiliarity, the warping of space he knows into something he does not, sets his teeth on edge.

Usually, he appreciates the gentle curve. In hand-to-hand combat, seeing your opponent when they’re still far away can minimize conflict. But once firearms are introduced, it just means that every step could be the one that put Gon in the line of a bullet.

His hands shake from the adrenaline pumping through his system, and he walks on the balls of his feet, as though he’s barefoot in the forest.

There’s a thump ahead.

A chill runs down Gon’s spine. His nostrils flare. He inches his hand closer to his lapel.

Someone is around the bend.

A man appears. He takes a step forward, graceful as a sylph, and not a sound is made when his foot falls. The tilt of his sharp shoulders is predatory, like a cat coiling to spring. Dangerous and…

Beautiful.

His eyes are sapphires, and the curve of his lips is soft. His suit is tailored perfectly to his form. The braid over his shoulder is white as crisp ocean foam.

Gon can hardly breathe.

“Who are you,” asks the man. He pops the knuckles of one hand with his thumb.

A fleck of blood drops.

Gon grinds his teeth together, mind racing.

“Are you choosing to get involved or not?” he asks, bored and impatient.

“Your buttons are done up wrong,” says Gon, pointing to the man’s jacket.

The man’s eyes widen in what is either shock or disbelief. And then he glances down.

Gon closes the distance with a leap and slams his knuckles into the man’s solar plexus.

His feet are swept out from under him and he’s slammed against the wall, toes dangling. The detached coldness in the man’s eyes is gone, replaced by hot fury.

“What the he—“

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

The intensity in the air evaporates away.

The man’s mouth is slack. His eyes narrow into a squint, searching Gon’s with naked bewilderment.

Gon holds his breath.

The man lowers him so that his toes can touch the ground.

“You could have,” says Gon.

“Because—you—who does that?”

Gon hums thoughtfully, and loses his fight against the smile trying to curl his lips.

“So you were curious, too.”

The man blinks, then closes his eyes and gives a long, shaky sigh. With a gentle shove, he lets go of Gon entirely and backs up, like an archer relaxing his bow string.

“Just tell me who you are,” says the man, leaning against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

“Gon.”

The man stares at him with a mix of horror and confusion.

A moment of silence passes. Gon pats his hips, unsure of where to put his hands.

“Do you have a death wish, Gon?”

“That’s not fair.”

The man’s eyes flutter and he gasps a shocked laugh.

“What?”

“I told you my name, you tell me yours.”

The man purses his lips. He leans his head against the wall and looks up, as if the light moldings will give him answers.

For a few seconds, Gon doesn’t think he’s going to answer.

“Killua.”

Killua.

“Nice to meet you, Killua.”

Casually leaned back, he doesn’t seem nearly as dangerous. Still beautiful, though.

“You’re weird, you know that?” says Killua, his voice raspy.

“I’m not sure you’re one to talk.”

Killua sniffs a laugh. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

Gon laughs.

Killua’s eyes shoot wide as saucers.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head.

Gon shakes his head and waves his hands placatingly. “Nothing, just funny.”

Killua scowls. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” says Gon.

Killua raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”

There’s the click of a door opening further down the hallway. Gon’s head swivels.

Backup, probably. That, or a peeved Kurapika on his way to shout Gon down the second they’re out of Neon’s earshot.

Killua stands with his hand on the frame of an open door.

Gon stumbles back a step, taken aback by the dramatic movement.

For a moment their eyes meet, and something in the air shifts. It’s a comfort and a bone deep knowing so strong that Gon’s heart aches.

“Will I see you again?” he asks, hands floating uselessly.

Killua runs a hand through his hair. His eyebrows furrow, and he sucks in a breath as though to speak.

And then like a switch flicking, his eyes glaze over with the same detachment from earlier. “No, and it would be better if you forgot you ever did.”

And then he’s gone.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #killua zoldyck #gon freccs #killugon #fanfic #submission

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