#ephemeral doing what hes told

[cookiedough77]

something something ephemeral having a similar color palette to hawkmoth/shadowmoth

something something chat blanc and season 5 gabriel being all white

something something...

[ghoulbrain]

Saddle Up, Sweetheart

18+ 3k ghoul x f!reader. cunnilingus/face sitting, overstim, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie. gif credit. prompt list. written for this ask. thank you! 🖤

The Ghoul—Cooper, as you know him now—does not make himself an easy man to get to know. He was harsh with you from the start, one of the crankiest old bastards you’ve ever met. An accomplishment, given your life in the slums. He’s dismissive, angry that you even want to know him, and downright mean most days.

And yet you became fascinated with him.

It was ages before you were able to hold decent conversations, and longer than that before you had a name for him. Still, you keep digging. He intrigues you more than anyone else ever has, and despite his sour attitude, he keeps coming back. 

"You won't like what y'find," he told you one day. You knew then you were wearing him down with your persistence.

"What scares you more: the idea that I won't, or the possibility that I will?" You'd asked. 

He laughed. "Y'don't scare me, sugar."

You smiled. "Maybe I should."

Cooper started to look at you differently from then on. There had been a sense before that he was observing you as something ephemeral, a flower bud he was waiting to see bloom and die away as quickly as you'd appeared. 

Once you made it clear you weren't going anywhere, the invisible walls between you began to fall away. You feel his gaze lingering on you when he thinks you aren't paying attention. You watch him in turn, holding his gaze whenever he catches you.

"Eye contact like that'll get'cha killed someday. Predators take it as a challenge," he tells you, adjusting the holster on his thigh.

"Is that what you are?" You ask from where you’re leaning against the wall, arms crossed. You raise your brow, inured to his broody one-liners. "A predator?"

To your surprise, he's the one who closes the distance this time. His footfalls are heavy, his swagger loose. He looms over you, bracing his forearm on the wall behind you. Your heart skips a beat. He rarely ever gets so close.

"I'm the worst kind there is," he says gravely, but you clock his tone for what it is. He's toying with you.

Undeterred, you square your shoulders. "And what kind is that?"

He leans in closer, smelling of oil and gunpowder. "A hungry one," he says, the heat of his breath ghosting your cheek.

Pushing you away hasn't turned you against him. Cornering you won't either. Despite his insistence to the contrary, you're no prey animal. "Well then... I s'pose you ought to have something to eat."

His radiation scarred lips spread slowly into a wicked smile. "Y'offering, sweetcheeks?" He asks, his yellowed teeth parted, poised to take a bite.

You swallow dryly, so keenly aware of the thundering of your own heart, you wonder if he can hear it, too. You tip your head back, jutting your chin out and bringing your lips closer to his.

"You don't scare me, Coop," you whisper, wielding his name like a secret weapon.

He hums, head tilting slowly while his gaze moves down your body in a leisurely calculating sweep. "Well..." He drawls, voice a low rumble from his chest. "Maybe I should."

You're ready for him to do as he's always done and leave you like that, to rile you up and then act as though it was all in your head. You've accepted that Cooper is a man on the run, and he hasn't seen anything in you worth stopping for.

The press of his lips against yours shocks you to your core.

Your arms uncross, hands fumbling to catch hold of his jacket, grabbing him before he can vanish. He responds in kind, cupping your face in the soft worn down leather of his gloves. Your pulse is all the way up in your throat, so wild you’re sure he can taste it when he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

His touch isn’t a gradual thing. He’s upon you all at once, forcing your thighs apart with his knee and slotting his thigh between yours, pressing into you until you start to sing for him, those breathy little noises muffled by his devouring kiss. At your hip, you feel the press of his cock gradually filling out beneath the layers of clothing between you.

After so long without meaningful touch, the onslaught is dizzying. You roll your hips, grinding down on his thigh until you feel your underwear clinging wetly to your skin, an exquisite shiver trilling up and down your spine. His lips feel textured and hardened by his condition, but his tongue is hot and smooth, persistently licking into your mouth, determined to feel, to taste.

That hunger drives him from your lips to your jaw, your throat, peppering rough kisses that are as much lips as they are teeth along your neck. “S’your last chance, darlin’. Point of no return,” he tells you, voice coarse. His hand slips between your bodies and starts working your pants open. “Won’t be no comin’ back from this. I’ll ruin you.”

That he would have the audacity to warn you away from the door like this after you’ve been knocking and knocking and knocking is almost laughable. You would laugh if you had enough air in your lungs, but he’s kissed it out of you.

“So ruin me,” you tell him breathlessly. He grazes his teeth over your pulse-point in a way that makes your voice hitch. “I want you.”

The rim of his hat brushes your cheek as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, making a raw noise against your skin. “God damn it,” he says, yanking you from the wall so sharply you gasp. He whirls you around, hands fisted in your shirt, kissing you hard while he walks you backwards, towards the noisy heap of springs and fabric you call a bed.

“Y’outta your fuckin’ mind for that,” he grouses, shoving your pants down off your hips. You don’t disagree, You know how terrifying he should be, what his affliction does to him, to his hunger, but you don’t care. Not when he’s kissing life back into your dull dusty life at the end of the world.

You’re naked by the time he pushes you down onto the bed, standing above you, sunken eyes black with fervor. He unclips the bullet belt strapped across his chest and shrugs out of his coat, tosses his hat up somewhere high on the bed. You start to crawl backwards, but he snatches your ankle and drags you right back to the very edge of the bed.

“Unbuckle me,” he orders, the words all throaty feverish heat that makes your clit throb. You do, eyes flipping back and forth from him to his belt. He watches you all the while, pulling off his gloves with his teeth, dropping them to the ground. You unbutton his pants next, hands so eager they fumble briefly before you make it to his zipper, the hiss of it coming undone drowned out by the thunder of your pulse in your own ears.

Before you get any further, Cooper catches your wrists and hauls you up to your feet, spinning you around and pulling you down over top of him on the bed. He keeps you steady while you straddle his waist, moving his hands from your wrists to your hips. You start to move back, but he cups your ass and pulls you in the opposite direction.

“Saddle up, sweetheart,” he says, licking his lips. “Y’said for me to have somethin’ t’eat. I intend to.”

Oh fuck.

Nodding hazily, you follow his lead until your knees are on either side of his head, your hands braced on the wall behind your bed.

“C’mon now, relax,” he coaxes, urging you down with his grip on your thighs. You settle most of the way down before he yanks you the rest of it, startling a noise out of you that transitions into a low moan at the molten wet slide of his tongue dragging from the bottom of your pussy to your clit, upon which his lips close down and suck.

The sensation is leagues beyond the amateurish grinding, but that session still left you sensitized. The heat of his mouth is so intense it almost burns. His tongue feels just as unreal, thick and dexterous in the way it works you, swirling repetitive patterns on your clit. He drinks from you like you’re an oasis in the desert, swallowing greedy gulps before sinking his tongue into you, fucking it in and out, coaxing more and more thirst quenching wetness from you.

“Ffffuck, oh my God,” you moan, your hands curling into fists on the wall, sliding until your forearms are braced against it instead, your head hanging between them. You wish you had something to grip, something to dig your nails into as his devil’s tongue builds hot pressure inside of you, swelling sensation toward an inevitable explosion.

Cooper is shameless beneath you, devouring without care for mess or noise. Every so often you feel the graze of his teeth and you buck away from him, but you’re no match for his strength and he keeps you held firmly down, wholly at his mercy despite your positions. 

Once he’s satisfied that you’re not going to try and escape anymore, he relinquishes his hold on your hip and brings his fingers between your thighs, teasing where you’re wettest with the tip of his finger. With the way he’s sucking your clit you barely notice the initial touch, but he quickly wrings a gasp out of you by sinking his finger in all the way to the knuckle, crooking it wickedly while he rocks it in and out.

It’s simultaneously too much and not enough. He walks you on the knife’s edge of your climax, deftly toeing the line with every slow stroke of his finger and swipe of his tongue. Your stomach clenches up with it, breath catching. He pushes in a second finger, and by the time you feel the third working you open, your legs are shaking uncontrollably. He is feasting on you, humming appreciative little noises between the wet sounds of him eating you out.

A sudden jarring slap to your ass makes your quivering thighs tense up and startles a loud moan out of you. He most definitely smiles against you, fucking you steadily with his fingers.

“You son of a bitch,” you manage to choke out, tears prickling at your eyes from the sheer overwhelm of it all, your breaths growing sharper, more shallow. “I should smother you,” you say, the threat dulled by the thinness of your voice.

He smacks your ass again, harder this time. You decide that’s encouragement to do just that and grind down against his mouth, eagerly meeting every thrust of his fingers until one last good slap tips you over the edge, your orgasm striking you like a bolt of lightning. Your whole body goes tense, and Cooper ruthlessly fucks and licks you through it, sucking on your clit as it pulses and pulses and pulses through what feels like the longest climax of your life.

“Enough,” you moan weakly, pushing yourself from the wall on trembling arms. His fingers have slipped free, but he’s still drinking you down, holding your thighs in a vice grip. You can’t stop shaking, the burn of pleasure beginning to feel like the most exquisite pain. “C-Coop, enough, I can’t–you fucker,” you gasp, jolting in his grip when he nips at your clit.

He finally lets you up, easing you down with two hands firmly on your ass. You slide back until you’re straddling his waist, hands braced on his chest while you catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time, knocking you down into his lap as he sits up. He takes your face in his hands and kisses your own taste into your mouth, giving a throaty little rumble.

“I decide when you’ve had enough,” he says, dropping one hand to work his cock free from his undone pants. “And you’ll remember that you asked for it.”

Each word feels like a spark of electricity. You lift yourself on trembling knees, hands on his shoulders, and he puts his arm around you, drawing you in while you sink down until you feel the thick head of his cock–wet with his own precum–nudging against your spit-soaked pussy.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me how good you can take me.” You can hear the restraint in his voice, feel it in the thrum of his touch. You hold his gaze while his cock forces you open in one smooth, frictionless slide, the stretch a dull ache that rapidly ascends into pleasure. He lets you adjust a moment or so before he begins to move, holding your hips steady while he rocks his own, reclining down onto his back.

“Don’t you hold out on me,” you tell him through a shuddered breath, hands behind you, braced on his thighs. “You promised me ruin.”

As sharply as he’d slapped your ass, Cooper gives a hard thrust up, his dull nails biting crescents into your skin, his grip all that keeps you from losing your balance. “One taste and y’already damn spoiled,” he says, planting his boots on your bed–you’ll give him shit for that later–and picking up a brutal pace almost immediately. “C’mon then, sweetheart. Ride me.”

You have no choice but to comply, grabbing hold of what you can of his shirt while he bucks hard under you. Every thrust sparks inside you like the strike of a match, your cunt still sensitive. You can already feel yourself climbing towards another peak. You arch your back, watching him through the haze of your own pleasure. His eyes are dark, his teeth bared. He looks like something wild, like something ready to bite.

“Goddamn, that’s it, y’squeezin’ me fuckin’ good now,” he groans, tipping his head back, watching you bounce on his cock through heavily lidded eyes. “Give it up for me, pretty girl. Show me this is really what you want,” he rambles, his accent growing thicker the closer he gets. You nod along, panting wordlessly, his thrusts knocking sweet little keening noises from your throat. “Go on now, that’s it. Show me how it feels when I make you cum.”

The world around you goes black just before an eruption of white explodes behind your eyelids like stars, your whole body stilling to endure the overwhelming crash of your release, the shock of it rolling out in waves throughout your entire body. You don’t speak, you don’t even breathe, too struck by the magnitude of it. 

Cooper fucks you through every second of it, slurring a litany of feverish nonsense–your name sprinkled within it–until he breaks off into a choked off noise, and in the middle of your euphoria you feel a the rush of his release spilling deep inside you, his body finally stilling under yours.

You sink down onto his chest, panting against the collar of his shirt. He moves his hand along your back, and a distant part of you is caught off guard by how tenderly he sweeps his fingers up the back of your neck. You answer in kind by slipping your fingers just under his collar, fingertips brushing bare skin that’s as gnarled as the rest of him.

The two of you sit in silence for a long while, neither of you willing to break the spell of your afterglow. The entire world feels softer in it, the dull sepia of it tinged with hints of gold. The dust particles floating around you almost seem to sparkle. In any other moment, you’d scold yourself for romanticizing the rotten remains of a dead world that has been so cruel to you, but for just this moment, you let yourself believe that things can be beautiful, too.

You lose yourself to the warmth of his body beneath yours, and the gentle way he traces the slopes of your body with his fingertips. Eventually, Cooper cleans his throat. You ignore it, reluctant to acknowledge him. You know once you do, the moment will be over.

“Y’might wanna get situated with a pack of Radaway soon,” he murmurs, the twang of his voice still heavier than usual. 

Tucked into the crook of his neck, you smile while he still can’t see you, endeared. “I’ve had worse exposures.”

“I find that hard t’believe,” he says, cupping the back of your neck in his palm. His thumb strokes absently back and forth. You can almost believe he’s dragging out these last few moments together, too.

Lifting yourself, you brace your forearms on his chest, staring down at him. His expression is difficult to parse–while there is most definitely a sense of ease you don’t normally associate with him, there’s also a profound sadness.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he moves his hand from your neck to your cheek, swiping his thumb along the ridge of it. You lean into his touch, ready to ask again, when he makes a grab for his hat and places it firmly on your head, obscuring your vision.

“That was some fine ridin’, sweetheart,” he says, voice as coarse and sweet as raw sugar.

You push the brim up until you can see him again, failing to bite back a smile. “Guess I’m the sheriff ‘round these parts now.”

“I ain’t a sheriff," he says flatly, though the slight tic at the corner of his mouth gives away his amusement.

“That’s right, y’ain’t. ‘Cause I am,” you say in your best impression of him, tipping his hat at him.

He blows out a breath and tugs the rim back down over your eyes. “Whatever you say, sweetcheeks,” he says, and though you can’t see him, you’re certain you can hear the smile in his voice.

Today may never happen again. The world could end tomorrow–again–or Cooper could walk off into the Wastes for the very last time. If you’ve learned anything in this world, it’s that nothing lasts forever. So, you drop your head back down and listen to the beat of his heart, using it to count the moments as they pass.

If they’re gonna be the best you get, you’d like to know how many of them you have.

[joelsdagger]

walk the line || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | ao3

pairing: boston qz!joel x f!reader summary: you and joel have a deal: sex in exchange for supplies. no questions asked. so what happens when you do? or joel fucks you while you’re in a headlock. that’s pretty much it. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: boston qz era, undefined relationship, mentions of sexual favors, choking, rough unprotected p in v sex, dark!joel, mean!joel [in the sense that he doesn’t let her come oops :( ], dubcon [reader tries to loosen his grip], noncon [i’m putting this here just in case], no aftercare. think that’s it. word count: 1.2k

a/n: just….don’t ask. i don’t know what this is. thank you to @papurgaatika for holding a gun to my head so i would post this looking this over, love you schmooks <3 

please heed the tags. protect your peace if this isn’t for you.

He’s being rough. Rougher than the countless times he’s fucked you before. 

In the time since you and Joel started this whole arrangement, you never needed to tell him to fuck you at a blistering pace. He just did it. 

Because you and him are the same. He told you that once. He said that you and him are two sides of the same coin. Both of you are always keeping your walls up and people out. Always keeping everyone at arm’s length. It made this arrangement easy, simple. 

There was just one rule: Nothing personal. A rule you happily got on board with. Getting personal is not really your thing. You learned that it was easier to survive at the end of the world without having someone to care about. Staying detached worked for you. You didn’t care enough about Joel Miller to even bother giving him a second thought. 

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe. 

A few minutes ago, you made the mistake of doing just that. 

You got personal. Flicked open the glass casing and pushed the big red button. Nobody gets personal with Joel Miller. Most importantly, you don’t. No. Never you. And now he’s punishing you. Maybe he’s punishing himself too, because he didn’t stop you. Didn’t stop this.

He’s being brutal, intense, and mean. And usually you could handle it because, like plenty of times before, you wanted him to.

But this time, you didn’t.

Your cunt is sensitive, and it hurts; it burns more and more with every rough snap of his hips; warm liquid pricks at your eyes in discontent. Your swollen cunt betrays you, squeezes around his wide girth, and he grunts against the shell of your ear in response. You’re sure he thinks you're begging him for more. To him, the swift flutter of your cunt is a silent tell to pick up the pace. 

And he does. Relentlessly. 

With every unforgiving thrust of his hips, knocking the wind out of your lungs, and the firm hold of his forearm against your neck, compressing your throat, you were barely hanging on. Black spots spatter across your vision, and your eyes slip closed; tears of anguish streak down your cheeks.

It’s too much. You choke on a sob, and your hand comes up to his left arm, weakly tugging at it, attempting to make space between the crook of his elbow and your neck to suck in an ephemeral breath of air. 

Instead, he tightens his grip on you; his left arm pulls you into his chest, and his right hand moves heavily to the top of your head as he brutally fucks up into your throbbing hole. Your head dips back beneath his chin, and the crown of your skull stings as the plastic clip hanging out at the bottom of the valve of his gas mask digs into your scalp.

Your failure to follow his rule — his only rule — had pissed him off so immensely that he didn’t even waste a second to remove his mask.

His muffled voice cuts through the thick haze that took over your mind. “Stay,” he orders through gritted teeth, and you obey.

Because he’s teaching you a lesson.

With him, you mind your tongue.

With him, you do as you're told. 

With him, you don’t ask questions.

With him, you don’t get fucking personal. 

And with your head locked between both of his strong arms and his fat cock hammering your cunt, punching at your cervix — forcing himself in — he makes certain of that. Makes your mind go fucking blank. Because when your sloppy cunt is stuffed full of his cock, your mind goes fuzzy, and your body goes limp in his hold, you are in no position to question him. To pry. To challenge him. To fight him. A brutal, shattering reminder that Joel Miller calls the shots.

And Joel doesn’t say a word. Not this time. Not when he’s using your body as a way to cope with his anger — to get himself off. It’s all breathless groans and grunts that tell you your holes are enough to satisfy him. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if this is how he always saw you — a means to an end.

Maybe you felt the same way about him.

You don’t have time to dwell on it because then you feel it — he twitches inside your aching cunt, signaling his rapid release. He hisses as he pulls out of your wasted hole, his length bobs against the crease beneath your ass, smearing your sweaty skin with your mixed wet. His cock throbs against you as his seed spills onto your quivering legs, coating your inner thighs, and leaking onto the tattered, moth-eaten mattress. 

You whimper pathetically as his arms release you, and your shuddering form falls forward, crashing into the dusty mattress beneath you. Your chest heaves as your hand comes up to the column of your neck, your weak fingers pressing at the sharp, searing pang there. You don’t doubt your skin has already begun to smart. You cough profusely as your lungs fill with air, a humiliating attempt at catching your breath. 

Joel’s left hand comes down beside your head on the mattress, cushioning his fall as he hovers over you. He groans as his other hand replaces your cunt, and with every fast, wet pump of his fist, the pulsing tip bumps against your skin; his release now paints the small of your back.

A first. 

And in the back of your mind, you try telling yourself it’s his way of claiming you — that he still wants you after you stepped out of line. Your stomach lurches at the same time your cunt flutters at the thought. You’re not sure how you feel about it, but you do know you feel empty without him inside you. And other than what happened here, he typically makes you feel good. Leaves you satisfied before he chases his own release.

Today, he didn’t. He used your body as a means for punishment, and you let him. A penance. For crossing the line he told — you both agreed not to overstep. 

A few moments later, you’re pulling your distressed jeans over your cum-coated thighs while your glassy eyes watch Joel as he zips up his own, his eyes fixed on the molded wooden floor in front. “Joel,” your voice hoarse and raw. 

He peers up at you beneath his lashes, the sunlight clawing through the taped-up window catches on his eyes; the amber in his hazel irises glowering in the light. 

“It won’t happen again,” you whisper.

“No,” he leans forward, grabs his gas mask you didn’t notice he pulled off, and the orange pill bottle you were meant to deliver to him without sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, and he grunts while he moves to stand, “it won’t.” 

And only when his heavy footsteps fade down the dark hallway of the abandoned building on the outskirts of the QZ, leaving you alone to stare back at the pale, rotten wallpaper with a painful and pleading ache between your trembling legs, do you realize exactly why no one defies Joel fucking Miller.

[eowynstwin]

Lilies

Price x f!Reader. - Dom/sub dynamics. whipping. vivisection as a metaphor for love. boot riding. throat-fucking. angst. aftercare. 18+ MDNI. Ao3

The bedroom is dim when you enter, lights turned low. Price watches you stop in your tracks at the unexpected darkness; watches you look around and catch sight of him.

He’s in the chair in the corner of the room. Hasn’t been waiting long—expected you to arrive, in fact, around this very moment. Your schedule and all of its minute quirks, tiny variations you might insert out of hunger, or boredom, or fixation on some new hobby, play out like clockwork in the back of his mind, no matter when or where he is.

A mnemonic. More accurately, a memorare. Entreaty to some higher power, as if to remind Death that he has someone far more important to get home to.

You take him in. His ankle is propped up on the opposite knee, glass of scotch hanging carelessly from his fingers, crystalline bottom brushing the carpeted floor. Your eyes focus on the orange-red cherry of his cigar—

—you startle a little when you meet his gaze.

He doesn’t blame you. His pulse beats heavy through his veins. Every breath he takes is slow and controlled, miasmic as it leaves his lungs. He feels less a man and more a vessel for something seething and wrathful, smog rolling in and in again on itself, eddying when it hits the boundaries keeping it contained.

Noxious. Fetid.

The glow of his cigar probably reflects in his eyes.

Borderline pyrolic.

You look at the coiled whip resting ophidian and black over his thigh. His free hand rests along it, thumbnail toying with the braided leather.

“Not a word,” he says evenly. His voice leaves him like it’s coated in sandpaper, debriding the column of his esophagus.

Your gaze snaps back up to his. Holds it.

Searching, maybe.

Your lips do not part. Instead, you wait.

The next breath he takes comes and goes a little easier—but only just.

“Strip,” he says, “and cuff yourself to your post.”

On a better night—a kinder one—he would’ve asked if you needed more directions. Checked in first, even, or warned you ahead of time of his intentions. This thing that exists between the two of you was cultivated in the open, fertilized with his own candor as he told you what he wanted, needed, like turning over a rock to see what squirmed beneath it. It grew as you trellised it together and discovered, through trial and error, what you needed to survive it.

Reward incentives. Good reason to give a damn about what he tells you to do.

But tonight is not a kind one. Venom pumps through his veins—caustic. Acrid. Hissing and spitting in his chest, already drawn back and ready to strike.

Maybe you can tell, as you stand there, watching him. Maybe you don’t feel like protesting. Or, just maybe, you need this, too, need it in the way you’ve begged him for in the past when the present moment felt ephemeral and unreal—because you obey.

You toe out of your heels. Pull your shirt over your head, your skirt down your legs. It’s an outfit he’s expressed appreciation for in the past; the wide drape of the collar exposing your clavicles, the long seams down your hips that buckle as your thighs hold the fabric taut.

You fold everything like a good girl and set them aside on the bed, and then remove your bra and panties—nude silk, no lace, sensible and comfortable and paid for with his card—to place them atop the pile.

Price isn’t in a mood to care why you acquiesce. All that matters to him is that you walk to your nightstand and remove the padded cuffs from the drawer, then to the bedpost on your side of the bed. You remove the endcap hiding the loop of steed embedded into the wood, fasten yourself with a padlock only he has the key to—

And then you kneel, naked, on the carpeted floor.

Giving him your bare back, the dim light sinking shadows into the notches of your spine.

Price says nothing. He doesn’t have a kind word anywhere in his alveoli. There usually aren’t any, when he first comes home, nor could a single one get past the bars of his vocal cords if it tried. This has grown too nacreous, too hypergranulated in his mantle, and it demands excision. He taps the ash from his cigar and sips at his scotch, the dregs burning a line hot and corrosive down his throat.

He sets the glass aside. Rises.

Brandishes the whip once with a sharp snap.

You flinch; your skin is filmy and thin in the gloaming. Horripilation lifts the follicles along your bare arms; the scant light of the bedroom catches your hair standing on end.

He watches a slow tremble work its way to your suspended fingers. Your back expands as you take a deep breath in, and contracts as you exhale, shadows the width of his fingers pooling into and draining away from the valleys between your extruded ribs.

You pull in another deep breath, one, two, three, four, five, and let it go at the same meter. Calming the anticipation the way he taught you.

He draws his arm back, lunges, and the whip cracks against your bare back.

You gasp sharply and go rigid in shock. Price watches the pain spread outward from the lash into your limbs. Bleeding down into the fibers of your muscles; sinking through osseous matter into your marrow like dye takes to cloth. You shift on your knees, a shiver snaking its way up your back.

It’s always cataclysmic, that first bite of pain. Every nerve ending suddenly alive and on high alert. Charged up. Inadvertently destining the next strike to fall even harder by sensory comparison.

Then, the welt appears, rising in reply to the scourge. A clean, sharp return stroke, an echo of the braided leather just beginning its reverberation.

Something cleaves in Price’s chest. Some tight membrane splits open, seeping felsic, hot and black, dripping steadily into his bloodstream. Effusive. Not a dam breaking, but a fissure in the stone.

Your breathing quickens—

And then he whips you again, harder, laying the stroke right next to the first. You cry out when it lands, but he leaves no time for you to prepare for the third, drawing, lunging, and lashing again at unspoiled skin.

You shake in your bonds. He whips you again, laying another diagonally from shoulder to hip as fog blooms across his vision. You wail like breaking glass, china falling from the cabinet, cut crystal flowering in pieces on hardwood floor.

The same tenor he hears when he has you on your back, cock burrowed in your cunt and bullying the plug of your cervix.

Too much, too hard, but your nails dig into his arse and you cry even harder when he lets up.

He whips you again. Welts lift across the known topography of your back—intersecting every angle of your shoulder blades, orogenies shifting and transforming the landscape into something new.

Only passing familiar with the dips and curves he often walks the tips of his fingers across.

Again. The planes of your back tighten, as if solidity will lessen the impact of the lash. Again, right across the tight line of your shoulders—you shriek, thrashing, hands fisting as you pull and swing futilely in the cuffs.

Geography added to. New land raised like it was beckoned by the hand of God. Hot and magamatic on the inside, too delicate to touch without collapsing in on itself.

Again. He snaps the whip, shaping the parabola with the jerk of his arm, shaping the line of a hill like a child’s drawing, then brings it down, sharply, cutting the fall across the meat of your hip. A hillside he often dwarfs with the ugly size of his hands.

Price envies the whip sometimes for its privilege. He’s never been able to lay hands on you directly for its purpose; not easily, at least. The flat of his palms have known the meat of your arse, have made ample flesh ripple like tossing stones across water, but he can’t employ them for much else without turning his own stomach.

He can pull your hair, wrap your throat in his grasp, shackle your wrists or the slopes of your hips in an iron grip, dig his fingers into your thighs and stomach like trying to tunnel through wedges of clay. Often afterwards he’s transfixed by the marks he leaves behind—dotted bruises aligned with the arc and spread of his fingers, or blotchy oblongs fitted to the heel of his hand.

Indelible evidence that Price Was Here.

He’ll try to match the grip that left them, his touch as light and gentle as a dove’s wing; a paintbrush without pigment, remembering the strokes it left behind. Synapses in his brain firing colors to match, claiming them for himself.

He put them there. That makes them his. That makes you his.

But striking you barehanded is beyond even his limits. No matter that you’d allow it. Have allowed it—

He whips you again. Draw. Lunge. Crack. You jolt against the bedpost, throw your head back, buck your entire body to work the pain through it.

One scene, similar to this, tephra building up in his craw and threatening to catalyze if he didn’t find some hurried way to exorcise it.

Some mission gone bad; some idiot disobeying his orders. People dying who didn’t need to.

He’d slapped you across the face, after forcing you to your knees with his fist in your hair—sent you tumbling to the floor. The next thing that had occurred to him had been to swing his foot back—

And the bile had risen so quickly up his throat that he’d frozen. He’d stared at you, on the floor. Lying there, sprawled and waiting. Fear in your eyes—but you weren’t moving.

His collapse after had been swift. He’d fallen to his knees and crawled to you, gathered you up like a stuffed toy and buried his mouth in your hair and hadn’t let you go for nearly three hours. Price can count on one hand how many times he’s cried in his adult life, and this had added one more to the tally.

It’s one thing to send his fury along through leather or wood or crop, and quite another to deliver it to you like you actually deserve it.

So, the whip.

You moan as the next stroke hits. Something long and stretched-out. Caramelized—molasses subducting the bite of the fall, sucrose splitting in the phreatic churn of draw, lunge, lash.

He pauses briefly to look you over. Claw-mark weals, like he’s been dragging his blunt nails down your back, hatch the skin paralleling your spine. Your heels press divots into the bare cheeks of your arse; you squirm in his gaze, drawing them together as you tighten your thighs.

There’s a moment when pain transforms. When heat fills the empty spaces between moving, frantic particles and melds in around them. Capturing them in place.

The calcaneus of one foot finds its way between your folds as you shift; your whole body twitches from it, and you lift your hips a little. There’s an obscene squelch as you settle down again, slick dribbling down your heel into the arch.

Price lunges. The whip cracks. You low like a trapped animal, grinding, and the pitch of your voice swoops upward when he lays another lash right on top of the previous.

Dangerous. Taunting something welling up to the surface, testing what it can take before it breaks. Price knows better.

Knows better, but the roil and hiss in his gut yawns wider with every lash, trembling as a fed appetite is only whetted. Horrible feedback loop—the cry of your voice, he often thinks, is the only thing that could possibly satisfy him, but when he gets it, Price can’t be satisfied.

A taste demands mouthful. A meal demands a banquet. When he hears you wail, he wonders how many different ways he can make you do it, how many octaves are there, hidden away, for him to tease out of you.

He knows everything about you. Everything. He knows every dip and curve of your body, every jutting bone, every creaky joint, every fold and roll and wrinkle. Sometimes he thinks he's got individual hair follicles memorized.

With the whip, or the scourge, or any other tool, the reward for his greed is ephemeral. The known plains present themselves as blank canvas, and for a while, after his work is wrought, there’s something new for him to fixate on. New patterns to trace his fingers along.

Sometimes he thinks he wants to cut you open, just to see what more of you he’s been missing.

Stomach. Lungs. Intestines. Arterial pathways leading to your soft, beating heart. All he wants, he thinks, is to see them. Say hello to them. Run his tongue along their membranes, caress each tiny capillary webbing them together with the lightest brush of his teeth, if only just to organize his experience of them into the archives of you that he keeps locked behind his ribs.

More of you. He always wants more of you.

He lunges again. The whip sings in the air, and the cracker bites again into your flesh. You undulate like rippling water, breath coming out in erratic stops and starts, and then you give a full body yank against your cuffs—

This time, he’s broken skin.

You curl in on yourself, suddenly going still. Your thighs tighten; your scapulae rise, shoulders touching the lobes of your ears.

As you’re if holding onto something that will escape; balancing, on an unsteady surface, something fragile. Delicate as spun glass.

It isn’t deep. A pearl of crimson wells up in the trough, collapsing when the mass betrays the surface tension. It trails a thin, straight line down your back as it slips between stark weals still yet to split open.

You haven’t moved; your body is a trembling fist.

Price takes a long, ragged breath. He asks the question, although he already knows the answer.

“Did you come?”

You shake your head.

Of course not. His good fucking girl—you’re waiting for permission.

Price extracts the little key from his trouser pocket and goes to where your wrists hang limp from the bedpost. The lock turns with a small click, and your arms drop like heavy stones. A breath of relief, involuntary, leaves you.

Price wraps your hair around his fist and yanks you back a little like pulling a dog on a leash. He rounds you, looming above your kneeling form, and wedges the tip of his boot between your knees.

It’s not a new pair. He’s had them for years, and the leather shows it, even despite regular maintenance. They’re brutish things, squarish and unkindly shaped, rough at the edges. Meant to trample underbrush and kick through teeth. A scratched-up battering ram between the soft skin of your thighs.

You lift your hips immediately to open the way for him. Automatic. Pavlovian.

He lifts the toe against your clit in reward, circles it, dragging your folds around. Your lips fall open; glittering, rheumy eyes stare up at him as your cuffed hands circle his knee.

Something soft in Price’s chest touches the inside of his sternum.

His hand goes to the zipper at his groin, and he draws his cock out. In the furor of the lash, he hadn’t even realized how hard he was, but he feels blistering in his own palm, the head ruddy and ugly with it, the veins thick and pulsing. Equally as inappropriate to subject you to.

He drags your head to his cock with his firm grasp in your hair. You don’t need to be told—your mouth drops, and he pushes in without preamble, grunting short and hard when the flat of your tongue melts along the broad artery on the underside of his shaft.

“Rut,” he husks, shifting his boot beneath you, “until you come.”

You moan around him. The vibration of your vocal cords travels up his cock, reverberating with an intensity that has him shoving into your throat with a snarl. You choke at the intrusion, saliva bubbling at the corners of your mouth, but your hips bear down on his boot, thighs clenching it at the sides.

Your whole body rolls and humps against his leg, cuffed wrists coming up so your hands can wrap around the meat of his thigh. You scrabble at the canvas, dig your nails into the weave of his trousers like you want to tear through it to get at his skin underneath.

The whole time, your eyes never leave his, glistening with tears that shiver on your lashes as they threaten to fall. He grits his teeth as your lips pull out around him as he withdraws, and then thrusts short and hard into your mouth in time with the frantic cant of your pussy up and down his boot.

He can feel the heat of your sex even through the leather, could swear that he can count the contractions as you clench around nothing, the tiny bud of your neglected clitoris rasping against the unkind fibers of his boot laces.

Obedient to perfection.

You’re past the threshold as you lean back a little, levering your body to change the angle at which your pussy engulfs his foot, and he half-steps forward to follow you so his cock doesn’t escape your mouth. You roll against him, a full-body wave that lifts chest, then stomach, then hips—

And then he sees it take you as you freeze in place, muscles tensing all at once.

Your eyes roll back, throat convulsing around him as quick, reedy mewls travel up his shaft in quick succession. Your whole body shakes with it, frenetic as you hump his boot to prolong it, loosening the knot he’d tied with your vigor.

He pulls out a little to let you breathe through the end of it, but when you realize what he’s doing you dig your nails into his thigh, following him back. You catch his gaze with yours, eyes pleading, brows knitting together in entreaty. The claws become cupped hands, stroking up and down, and you bob your head a little, hollowing your cheeks.

Price huffs a breath. He hadn’t planned for an orgasm for himself for this. Rewards are for people who earn them.

This—this isn’t that.

But your eyelids lower in pleasure as you take him deeper, saliva slicking the way to his base, and Price has never been able to deny you anything.

His grip around your hair becomes a soft palm on the back of your head, guiding you steady, and he props his shin up along your stomach, knee between your breasts to give you balance.

It’s an orison; tossed into the caldera, something precious given to gravity and the incandescent fate at the other side of it. Your lips melt around him softly, tongue skimming his length like the reaching strand of a candle flame twirling around the tip of his finger.

He loves you so frightfully much.

“That’s it,” he huffs. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You moan in your throat, eyes closed, lashes against your damp cheeks.

“Yeah,” he continues, digging his fingers into your hair. “Too good for the likes of me—mmm—”

You suckle around him, pulling all the way back to mouth at the head of his cock before engulfing him again, cuffed hands rising higher to nestle one into the crevice of his groin and thigh and to spread the other over his hip. His breath quickens, and he brings his other hand to the back of your head, digging the fingers of both into your scalp.

You accept the roll of his hips with a little laugh that escapes through your nose, opening your jaw wide; making room for him to take what he pleases, again, how he pleases, as he thrusts faster, harder, taking what you give freely and delving harder for even more—

The head of his cock bullies your soft palette as his pubic hair tickles your lips, and then it shoots through him, up and down his spine, and he rams into your throat, forcing your nose to his mons as his cock pulsates, erupting hot and viscous, heartbeat forcing his cum out in deep, rhythmic pulses he feels across his whole body.

When you swallow around him his whole body heats up, balls clenching as they empty themselves into you, and he punches his hips in again short and hard as the last vestiges of his climax play out.

You hold him in your throat until he pulls you away, and then you take a long, wet gasp, hot breath fanning across his softening cock as it falls down, drained out. Tear tracks are silvery down your face, lashes stuck together with lipids and salt.

He brings one hand to your cheek, caressing beneath your eye gently with one callused thumb. Sweat beads along your hairline, and your skin is sticky and humid, glistening with perspiration that pools in your collarbones.

He feels his own sweat running down his chest, along and around the follicles of his chest hair and down toward his navel. Your eyes follow each drop; he thinks you’d lean forward and lick them up, if he told you to, even though he can see the exhaustion pulling at you.

“You good?” he finally asks, his voice coated in grit, but steady as it leaves him.

It’s what he always says, after.

You open your eyes to meet his, and this, too, is a moment repeated. He searches. Waits for doubt or fear or dismay to flicker in your gaze, some omen that he’s gone too far, that this, finally, has been too much for you to take from him.

You grace him with a little smile. The lines of your face are slack and loose. Your expression is smooth—languid, floating on satisfaction.

“I’m good,” you say, calm and tranquil—

And the smoke clears from his eyes.

-

He rubs the indent around your finger, branded by your wedding ring in your clenching fist, and brings the knuckle to his mouth to kiss his apology into your skin.

“What happened?” you ask.

You’re boneless, splayed on the mattress with your belly to the duvet. Your head rests against the pillow, face turned toward him.

Even in the haze of afterglow, filaments of oxytocin and dopamine unspooling, your eyes are sharp. Insightful.

You know him too well.

John kisses your ring finger again and returns to the oblations he owes for his violence. The lines on your back are ugly, dotted with broken capillaries and set to linger for weeks. He applies aloe gel, cooled in the fridge, in a thick, generous layer with a soft brush. The kind your aesthetician uses on the rare occasion you treat yourself to some time at the spa, dragging the bristles lightly across your face, around the apples of your cheeks and the corners of your lips.

Softer than he can possibly touch you right now with his callused fingers. A consequence of his vice; flayed skin, lifted weals, cannot tolerate the weight or heat of his hand, no matter how curative or contrite. He destines his own gentle touch to futility.

The one place he broke skin will probably take a month to heal.

A puff of air zips by his ear again. So close as to be your gasp. The rock behind him explodes around a .50 caliber round. Fragments of dry stone, osseous and pale, shower his neck and back.

“The usual,” Price says.

With a q-tip, John dabs bacitracin along the open gash down one side of your back. It isn’t very long or very deep. It might not even scar.

When John is gone—deployed or dead, the difference is negligible, really—there will be no evidence of his presence in your life that you can’t get rid of. It kept occurring to him throughout his deployment, after the near miss.

Everything of his in the house you share, you can box up and donate. Deep clean the place to eradicate whatever traces of his scent are left behind. You can cut your hair in some new style he’ll never see, wear all new clothes, choose a new perfume.

You can take off your wedding band. Shove it in a box in some forgotten drawer, or just pawn it.

It’s childish. Downright adolescent. Snapping your bra like a pimply cunt in secondary school, because the only way he knows how to etch himself into the bedrock of your memory is with pain.

“I’m sorry,” you say, reaching out with one lolling hand.

He leaves the q-tip on your back and clasps it between both of his own, bringing the curl of your fingers to his mouth. He kisses down the side of your palm, trails his lips down the soft skin of your forearm. Squeezes so hard he feels the bones in your hands shift.

You’re sorry. He took a whip to your back, made you hump his boot like an animal, and fucked your face like a whore, all because he couldn’t stand the thought that you would someday be without him. And you’re sorry.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he murmurs, scratching at the soft part of your wrist with his beard.

It seems even the softest version of his affection must somehow be abrasive.

There’s a little smile playing across your lips as you close your eyes. A deep, serene breath leaves you.

He places your hand back on the bed and dips the brush back into the aloe, loading it generously up to the ferrule. The brush make little furrows in the gel as he lays it down, the layer already thick; he floats the flat of the bristles overtop, smoothing over his contrition, and then, idly, he wedges them in again, carving runnels down through the clear to your skin.

You must fall asleep as he does, or at least you enjoy it enough to indulge him. John follows the lines of each lash from beginning to end, tracing their length, mapping the way they’ve changed your skin.

In a few weeks, as he cares for them, they’ll fade away completely. Left only to memory—both his and yours. But for now, you’ll feel them every day. Feel him every day, even when he’s not there, brushing along the inside of your shirt, stinging with every light touch.

Remembering the hand that held the lash.

He smooths the painted lines over and begins again.

-

a/n: this started as a casual one-off and became a loose masterstudy of @yeyinde's writing style. Lev, affectionately, you are insane. I know this because in writing this I also went insane.

Also dedicated to @391780. Please never stop being kinky online. I live for it.

Also that one part was inspired by this piece of art.

[nina-ya]

Hey! I love the 3 times you tried to confess and the time it finally works. The story you did for Sanji. I'm interested in how it would go with Zoro. Please and thank you 😁

Three Times You Tried to Confess to Zoro and The One Time That You Did

A/N: HIIII i had so much fun writing this i hope you love this just as much as i do!! And thank you @tetzoro for letting me bounce my ideas off of you!! Pairing: Zoro x reader CW: Mild onigashima spoilers in the last two chunks. WC: 1.8k

You had spent the entire day psyching yourself up to confess to Zoro. Another serene day at sea had finally come and it seemed that nothing could ruin this moment. You were sitting in the crows nest, accompanying Zoro as he worked out.

As he completed another set, Zoro paused to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked at you, curiosity evident in his features. “You’ve been awfully quiet today.,” he remarked.

You smiled nervously, feeling the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter. “Yeah, just thinking,” you replied, the nervousness accidentally peeking in your tone. 

Zoro nodded, picking up his water bottle taking a swig from it. He placed the water bottle down before asking, “What’s on your mind?” 

You took a deep breath as you tried to steady your heart. Now was your chance. This was your moment to say what’s on your mind. “I uh…” you trailed off, words evading you. He was staring at you at this point, wondering what you had to say. You decided to just rip off the bandage and say it. “Zoro I l-”

The hatch to the crows nest swung open and Sanji's head popped up, that beaming smile on his face interrupting your words. “There you are!” he exclaimed, climbing up with a tray in his hands. He waltzed over to you, flashing that charming smile of his before declaring, “I made a special treat for you. Thought you might like something that’s just as sweet as you are.”

You glanced at the tray, which held an intricately made dessert, made specially for you. You took the treat off the tray, thanking him. “Oh, thank you, Sanji. That’s very kind of you.” 

Sanji’s smile widened and you swear you could see heart eyes forming by the second. “Anything for you, my dear,” he said with a wink. 

You felt your face heat up; not from the behavior from Sanji, rather from the frustration of your confession being interrupted. You still smiled at him, hiding your displeasure. Before you could say anything, though, you noticed Zoro’s expression darken. He scowled at Sanji, his fists balling up.

“Oi, curly-brow,” Zoro growled, “we were in the middle of something.” Sanji straightened up, his eyes narrowing. “Is that so, marimo? I didn’t notice anything important.”

Zoro took a step forward. “Yeah, well if you weren’t always butting in where you’re not wanted–”

Sanji bristled, taking a step closer to Zoro. “And maybe if you-”

The tension in the room escalated rapidly as the two began to bicker and go head on. You quietly backed out of the crows nest, leaving the two to their argument. You’d find another moment, you told yourself. One where you could have Zoro’s undivided attention, without the interference of well-meaning crewmates.

- - - You had been waiting for the right moment to confess your feelings to Zoro. The shared moments, the silent understandings, the ephemeral glances had all accumulated to this built up courage. Now seemed more perfect than ever– the waters were calm, there were no signs of danger approaching the ship, and you’re sitting right next to the man who you hope to call your lover.

“Zoro,” you began, your voice quiet, but steady. He turned his head slightly, acknowledging you with a grunt with his gaze focused on the gorgeous orange golds of the sunset that painted the sky as the sun made its descent. You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts and more importantly, your courage. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You glanced down at the deck below, eyes following the patterns of the wood with your eyes as you attempted to remain calm. The words you had rehearsed so many times in the mirror seemed to just turn into mush, and your throat suddenly felt dry. You glanced back at Zoro, only to see him still looking at the sunset.

“I…I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now,” you continued, your voice carrying a tremor. “It’s just that… spending all this time with you, I’ve come to realize how much you mean to me.”

You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, and your eyes darted around, refusing to focus on him in fear of possible rejection. Your heart was running a marathon, and the anticipation nearly killed you. You had imagined this moment so many times, but now that was happening, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anxiety and you could only hope that he felt the same.

“I… I think I lo–”

A soft sound interrupted your words. You paused, not daring to look up to confirm your suspicions. That sound can’t possibly be… You looked up and saw Zoro sitting beside you, his head tilted slightly forward, eyes shut and a peaceful expression on his face as he snored. Your heart filled with an immense disappointment that his need for sleep had stolen your moment, but you couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of relief knowing that the pressure of the confession was momentarily lifted off of your shoulders for another day. - - - Zoro lay unconscious, his body battered and bruised from the fight with King. Chopper was working frantically, his small hives moving quickly to stabilize Zoro’s injuries. You were right there by his side, your heart heavy with worry. 

You couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face as you watched chopper tend to him. His face was pale and his breaths came in shallow uneven rasps. The sight tore at your heart.  “Zoro,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “You have to pull through. You always do. You’re the strongest person I know, and I need you to keep being that strong.’

Chopper glanced up at you, his eyes filled with concern, “He’s tough. He’ll make it. He’s just got a lot of internal injuries that I need to focus on,” he muttered in concentration.

You reached out and gently took Zoro’s hand, your own fingers trembling. “Zoro, I love you,” you said, your voice cracking. “And I need to say that to you while you’re awake and can hear me, so you better pull through, goddammit.”

Chopper’s hands faltered for just a moment, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked up at you as he said, “W-well, it’s about time you admitted it.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle through the tears at Chopper's comment. “Was it really that obvious?” you asked, your tears dripping off your chin and falling onto yours and Zoro's clasped hand.

“Yes, it was.” Chopper started. “It’s also obvious how he loves you too. So I’m going to focus now so that I can get him conscious for you.”

You nodded at Chopper, and you shifted so you were by Zoro's head. You leaned down, resting your forehead against his as you declared in a whisper, “I love you, Zoro.” Your tears mixed with the sweat, blood and grime on his skin as you continued, “I should have told you sooner. I should have told you a thousand times. But I’ll tell you now, and I will tell you again when you wake up, and I will tell it to you until it is my dying words.” - - - The days following Kaido's defeat were filled with joy and celebration by everybody on Wano. Everybody except for you. Your heart was filled with anxiousness as you waited day by day, hoping that Zoro would wake up. You had taken on the task to spend most of the last couple of days by Zoro and Luffy’s side. This was just your excuse to be close to Zoro so you would be right there the moment he woke up.

You noticed a slight movement. Zoro’s fingers twitched, and his eyelids fluttered. You leaned forward, your heart racing. “Zoro?” 

His eye slowly opened, a groan escaping his lips as he adjusted to the light. He blinked a few times before his gaze settled on you. “Hey,” he croaked, his voice hoarse from days of disuse.

Tears welled up in your eyes as relief flooded you. “You’re awake,” you whispered, a smile breaking across your face.

He tried to sit up, but you gently pushed him back down. “Take it easy, you’ve been through a lot.” you said softly. Zoro’s head turned and his focus landed on Luffy, who was still unconscious besides him. “Luffy?” he asked, his concern evident. “He’s still resting,” you replied. “Chopper says he’ll be fine. You both just need some time to heal.” Zoro nodded, his gaze returning to you. “You stayed here?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t leave you. Not after everything.”

There was a moment of silence, and Zoro shifted slightly to get more comfortable. “You look exhausted,” he said. “Have you been getting any rest?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not really. I was too worried about you.”

A smirk tugged at Zoro’s Lips. “You know you don’t have to worry about me so much. I’m tougher than I look.”

You gave him a half hearted smile, running your fingers through his hair. “I know. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

Zoro's gaze softened, and he reached out, taking your hand in his. Your heart pounded at the gesture, and you took a deep breath, feeling the words rise to your lips. “Zoro, I…” He looked at you, raising an eyebrow as your demeanor suddenly shifted at your own words. It was then that you finally ripped off the band-aid. “I love you, Zoro,” you blurted out, unable to contain it any longer. “I love you so much, and I should have told you a long time ago when I first realized it. But now I just need you to know how much you mean to me and how much I care about you.”

For a moment, Zoro was silent, his eye searching yours. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, the kind of smile that you could only hope to pull out of him more in the future. “You took your time,” he said, his tone teasing yet tender. 

You laughed through your tears, the sound a combination of relief and joy. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Zoro's grip on your hand tightened, his eye never leaving yours. “I love you too,” he declared. “I always have. I just… didn’t know how to say it.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Well, now we both know.”

A content sigh escaped his lips, and that teasing edge made an appearance once again as he said “you missed, by the way.”

You looked at him confused for a moment before you realized he meant the kiss. You chuckled and leaned in, brushing your lips against his as you whispered, “I love you so much.” His eye fluttered closed as he kissed you back, his lips soft and warm against yours. In that moment, you knew that your heart had chosen the right man to be the love of your life.

[devilander]

rain falls in love

homelander x gn reader. fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

Cozy Corner Domaystic: Thunderstorm

You were a light sleeper. Even minor disturbances would wake you instantly; your cat meowing, a neighborhood’s TV turned on, cars passing through the street. Whenever Homelander and you slept together you couldn't help but be slightly envious of how he could turn off the whole world—he slept like a stone, slept like the dead. 

Today, though, you doubted many could sleep through the thunderstorm that split New York’s sky. Each thunder louder than the other, sequences of lightning turning the apartment clear as day. And, courtesy of your boyfriend's gigantic windows, you felt enclosed in the roar of the night. 

For some, it could be an entertaining spectacle; nature's power a soothing balm, a way to make you contemplate how much of your worries were small and ephemeral—in the end, there was only the earth and the rain. 

You could, in theory, see the poetry of it. But all you felt was an overwhelming fear. The loud noises reminded you of your father's booming voice, the cracking of electricity too similar to his heavy hands landing on you. 

John was away, having left a week ago in some undisclosed mission. Undisclosed to the public, of course, because he told you in detail how, actually, he was going to take part in a non-authorized invasion of a terrorist cell. Or so he called it. 

You were alone. Only you and the storm and Popsicle purring in your lap, indifferent to his surroundings. 

After another furious thunder nearly frightening you to death, you decided to call John. Tears streamed down your face and you felt ridiculous—it’s only rain. And yet. 

He probably wouldn't pick up. If he did, he'd be too busy, what could he do?

In the first ring, however, he answered. “Hello, sweet face. Awake at this hour?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” You tried to disguise your sniffles, suddenly beyond embarrassed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Silence, and then—

“Is it the storm, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yeah. I can't sleep, it keeps reminding me of… you know. I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Don't you ever apologize to me for that, ever,” he retorted, voice tinged with anger, though you knew it wasn't aimed at you. 

“Can we—” Another thunder, and this time you yelped, scaring Popsicle so that he ran to hide under the bed. “God, I hate this,” you whimpered. “I just want you here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you precious thing. Fuck, this is bullshit. A fucking week here and we accomplished shit. They sent me the most incompetent team of motherfuckers, I'm up my ass with their whining and ‘but sir, mister Edgar said we should be cautious’.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a trifle.”

“Ugh, fucking tell me about it. A week without you for this bullshit. Y’know what, I'm out. Hold on there, honey, I'll be with you in a moment.” 

And he hung up. And the storm raged on, but you felt a giddy warmness settling on you. 

Not before long, he barged in, completely wet, but you couldn't care less. You ran to his arms, letting the raindrops seep through your clothes as tangible proof of his devotion. 

“You didn't need to come.”

“Ah, but I promised, didn't I? I'll be with you anytime you need me, and you need me now, don't you?”

You giggled, forgetting all about the fears. It was washed over. “I do. And you need a hot bath.”

“Hmph. You too, little baby. C’mon, join me.”

You sat behind him in the tub, washing his hair, enjoying every second of this quiet moment. He moaned at the contact and squeezed your thigh as it circled his waist. 

If the storm was a demonstration of nature's power, John was both its likeness and antithesis—he himself was a force to be reckoned with, an amalgamation of sheer strength and might. Created by men, but a victim of them. You could understand that, quite intimately.

He gave you security in his power, and you gave him peace in your tenderness—the value of a whisper to a snowbank. 

“John,” you whispered. “I love you. I'll keep you forever, because you belong to me and I to you. Will you let me?”

You felt, more than you saw, his deep breath, swallowing back tears you knew were spilling down his cheeks. You didn't care what they said, what he did looking back in anger, because this was the only truth. 

“Yeah…” He choked up, but soldiered on. “Yeah, my love. I'm never letting you go. I fucking love you to pieces.”

As you lay in bed together you decided—in the end, there was only he and you. 

[mandalhoerian]

moth to a flame | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Break-ups are never easy. Thankfully, you've been preparing for yours for a long time. Leon doesn't let this revelation go for reasons you cannot fathom when he's the one who wants to leave.

word count: 9K

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, p in v, kinda body worship, switch leon, he subs for like a moment and goes this better not awaken anything in me

notes: i winged this please don't judge me. also, "plot"-wise, this is an extension of my leon love language post. header template can be found here. enjoy the filth

🌀 read on ao3!

📍 continue to the BAD ENDING!

📍 continue to the GOOD ENDING!

In hindsight, you’ve seen this coming. Your face barely moves at your on and off situationship of two years forcing out, “I think we should break this off.” 

So faint and unsure it’s barely above a whisper.  

He looks so uncomfortable hunching over, forearms resting on the countertop, breakfast untouched, as if trying to make himself smaller than you, it’s absurd considering the nerves of steel you envy him for, and sure, he’s adorably awkward sometimes for a man of his looks, but not like this. Never vulnerable like this.

The kitchen is gloomy despite the bright winter sun seeping through the windows, almost suffocating because of his uncharacteristically transparent malaise. Leon isn’t one to openly squirm, and in turn, it’s making you all the more nervous — nothing about this is fair when you were thinking you got all the practice needed from imaginary scenarios and possibilities on all the directions the eventual separation would go.  

He can’t look at you, shaking his head nervously, choked by the silence. “Say something.”

How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this. 

You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.  

You shift in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digs sharply into your skin with how hyperaware your body is of all the surroundings to deviate your attention from Leon, folding your hands on your lap. 

The answer is at the tip of your tongue, it was stashed away there months ago. Of course you’ll let him go. 

What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance. 

The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same.

It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place. 

Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded. 

You accept him as such, love him all the same.  

You’re not sure if he loves you just as much. 

Fondness and like is there, enough for him to have stuck around for this long, but you figure it’s because you’re safe and constant. You’re happy to have provided him with at least that because you’re not sure what he saw in you, to be honest. 

What’s happening is painless enough to go through exactly because of this, you hadn’t let yourself get too attached to Leon knowing he isn’t into you as much as you are into him. Maybe you are deluding yourself, maybe you are numb and not as apathetic like you thought you are, but you’re convinced this is how it should go — how it’s meant to go. What’s the point when you’re aware your name won’t be at the top of his list? 

The insecurity surely is a small part of the ��Leon Kennedy Breakup First-Aid Package’ you’ve been cultivating over time in preparation to cushion your own fall when the time would naturally come, but it doesn’t cover the shape Leon is in that even when he’s the one breaking your heart, he looks like he’s shouldering the pain you’re going through on top of his. 

This is why you can’t ever be mad at him. You wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all. 

Leon is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-blond hair doesn’t shine like it usually does, he hasn’t conditioned it, the golden sheen to it wilted almost. His bloodshot, red rimmed eyes are dim in their blue, laser-focused on the black coffee mug he’s tightly gripping, the skin underneath his lower lashes spread out in faded pink-purple half-rings and it only ever happens when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days’ time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his paperwork. His thumbs are wiping at the place he puts his lips on and have a sip at the contents of it you’ve seen he fed some liquor to a few minutes prior. He’s awfully domestic in his black sweater and pants, not at all looking like he just asked for a breakup.   

You take pity on him. 

“I see. Alright.”

His head shoots up, eyes immediately finding yours, no longer blank. He doesn’t seem sure if he heard you right, expression disbelieving. “What?”

“How do you want to do this?” Mirroring Leon’s anxious movements, your own fingers trace the rim of your own teacup. “You could start gathering your things today, but if you want to call it a day, I don’t mind—”

“No—wait—what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying okay, Leon.”

He winces at the name, gaze escaping from you again momentarily and he has to blink, the lack of your usual pet name for him must have hurt him, you presume. He has to swallow before talking. “This is it?”

You’re not sure if it’s directed at the end of your relationship or you letting him off easy. “I don’t understand. What else was I supposed to say?” 

“I don’t know, I just—”

This isn’t being hopeful, but you ask anyway. “What did you want me to say?” 

He sighs in return, tearing away his gaze and hiding it with a hand that wipes at his forehead.

Yeah, it isn’t your hopes that were crushed. You adamantly tell yourself it isn’t. He’s being nice as he always is, of course he’d question how agreeable you’re being, it’s not like his resolve is going to change. “I’m just being cooperative so we can—”

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

That was the problem?

“I’m not, Leon.” 

“How can you not be?”

“Well, I…” It’s because you love him, but bringing this up would only make it harder. “I’m not sure. You’ve been that good to me along the way, I guess. I don’t resent you for anything.”

He has that subtle sarcastic look on his face you would take as mocking if you were a total stranger, but you know better. He’s being self-deprecating. You could read it. But you should, he’s thinking. You should resent me. 

You don’t. 

The thing with Leon is he’s too good to be true that his only flaw is being a literal ghost. A well-meaning ghost who’d send presents upon presents and work his ass off to make extra time for what he had to give up on every time your plans falls through with unexpected shit that came up from his mystery job at the White House he never talks about that has him battered and bruised each time he turns up after prolonged leaves.  

Which is an oxymoron considering how attentive and absent he is at the same time. Sometimes you wondered if he’d fix his habit of being a clam about everything concerning himself after you guys were through, but imagining him becoming more open and changing for someone else hurt too much.

“Don’t you want to know why? I mean—god, why are you just taking it?” 

“What do you mean taking it? You’re not doing this to hurt me, look at you, Leon, when have you last slept? It’s hard on you too.” 

“That really doesn’t have to do with anything right now,” he dismisses. “How are you this unaffected? I’ll take it if it’s to get back at me…”

“It’s not.” You stand up, appetite lost. You want to wrap your food up and put it in the fridge to eat later, and this way, you don’t have to look at him while saying the sentences you have rehearsed for so long. “If you want to break up, I can’t force you to stay—or into anything you don’t want to. It’s not fair for either of us. You’ll be stuck with someone who you don’t want, and I’ll have to live with the knowledge I’m with someone who doesn’t want me.” 

You find him staring at you when you’re done, your hand stays wrapped around the handle of the fridge door at how tortured he is. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shakes his head, blond strands framing his face gently swishing in the air. He does the angry eyebrow scrunch whenever he disagrees with you strongly on something you’ve said, but decides not to at the last minute, and you find yourself the tiniest bit disappointed at him not refusing he doesn’t want you. “You always— you always do this... Be angry. You have to be angry at me.”

You find refuge in the kitchen sink, washing your hands. “Stop it. I don’t want to fight, please.”

“So you are angry.”

“I’m not!” You slam the water shut a bit too forceful and you breathe for a second before turning to him. “I’m not. Angry. I’m sad, yeah. An understatement. Who wouldn’t be?” 

He just says, “I’m sorry,” at that, and hates it’s the only thing he can manage to give you, it’s blatant in his face. 

You take a seat at the chair directly next to him, you both need the intimacy of good communication at the moment. “But I had a lot of time to mourn, alright? It’s not that I’m taking it or being passive or whatever—”

“Mourn?”

His eyes search yours for a second, and the realization leaves him breathless, the insides of his brows raise up, making him look younger and more innocent. “You were expecting this.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Your lips press together, and you chew the insides before hopelessly shrugging, a small smile doing its best to put itself together. “Look at us. It was never going to work out in the long term. Not really. I consider two years a miracle, to be honest. I don’t know how we got this far.”

“All this time we were together.” Leon’s voice is thick, on the verge of shaking, you weren’t expecting him to take this so badly. His pupils devour all the blue from his eyes, he has never looked at you this hostile before all the hair on your arms rise up. “You were just thinking about breaking up? Have I only ever made you insecure?”

“Not all the time—it’s just—” You swallow. ““Why are you angry at me now? What did I do? You are the one breaking up with me.”

“And here you are okay with this. You’re telling me you didn’t think we’d ever work out when I—” He huffs. “I didn’t even notice a thing. You weren’t happy at all. Ever? You were uneasy all this time?”

“No, Leon, you’re not listening to me. What I expected was that you would leave one day, eventually. Because that’s how you are. That’s how your life is.” He leans back when he gets what you are alluding at, rubbing his face with a hand, refusing to look at you — but out of anger this time around. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stand being in limbo about not letting yourself go and wanting to at the same time. I know you felt bad about everything. I guess it’s just not the right time?”

You don’t say, right person and wrong time, it’s wishful thinking on your part—Leon probably doesn’t think that, someone else seems to take that crown in his heart, you know that all too well. 

The muscles on his arm closest to you flexes, he must be thinking about taking your hand in his, so you remove them off the table and nestle them between your thighs. Any physical contact from him might lead to you crying in the end. 

“I’m sorry I made you go through all that,” he laments. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Your head tilts sideways. “It wasn’t about me, Leon. Suppose I sat you down and complained you weren’t open with me, you were distant. Especially when you weren’t ready for the conversation. I’ll tell you what would have happened. Two weeks of radio silence.”

“Ah, c’mon…”

“It’s not something you haven’t done before. You said it was work, but… You know. I get it.”

Leon exhales from his nose and lowers his head, broad chest puffing up with rapid breaths, his neck is getting redder by the second. You’ve never taken him for someone with an explosive anger, but it looks like that could change any second. 

“I wish you wouldn’t take this to heart, I’m not saying this to hurt you when I say I knew this was always going to happen.” You’re talking like you’re trying to soothe a tiger, and he especially looks to hate it. “You can’t possibly have expected me to ignore it. And it wasn’t going to come from me either, I’m happy to be with you either way, but—”

“That’s the problem.” He has his head between his hands, like that could possibly hide him away from the conversation. “I treat you like this and you still say that.”

You wish he wouldn’t be this hard on himself.

“I signed up for this.” He tilts his head at that, accusatory, and you get more agitated in return. “I know your circumstances. You can’t help being absent most of the time, I understand. I understand more than you think.” His forearms hit the counter loudly, he looks about to spit fire any second, but you don’t let it happen. “However. It’s no way to continue a relationship, I know that too. My perspective is that it shouldn’t be guilt that comes to your mind whenever you think of me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could be a priority to you—”

Leon’s face sours, and you stop talking when you see it. 

You didn’t mean for the words to hurt him as they did, explanations becoming distraught. “Look, I like you, you know this. Possibly too much. More than I should. You have to understand that’s why I’m being this amicable with you right now. Break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t reach Leon. His gaze is faraway, defined jawline locked clenching and unclenching. 

“If it makes you feel better, I was angry for a while.” His hand comes down from rubbing a circle in the middle of his brows, eyes shifting back to yours. “But it is what it is.”

“You’re not even gonna ask?” he says, defeated.

“Would you tell me anything different from what I know?”

He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a sigh, one of his legs shaking, and his head falls forward, curtains of dark blond hair covering your view of his face. For a moment, all you want is to slip your fingers into the silky strands and comb them back, take his heat away, the pads of your fingers on his smooth cheekbones, you know he’d melt into your touch straight away and his expression would lose weight of the strain he carries you can only imagine the root of most of the time, but you abstain. 

He wouldn’t appreciate it on the brink of a break-up, you were about to become nothing but strangers. 

That’s why it’s abrupt when he leans forward and captures your lips in an unfair, unfair kiss, the force of it makes his teeth clack against yours and you grimace, retreating to break it. His hand slips to the side of your neck to pull you back in, the drag of calluses and heat against the skin of your neck sends goosebumps all over your body, his thumb caresses your cheek in a loving way that hurts but his lips are frantic in their gentler search to open your mouth to his, and suddenly you can’t breathe from how much Leon keeps advancing. 

Turning your face away to break the assertive, overwhelming liplock, you take in lungfuls of air as you look as away from him as you can, panicking at the way he presses his forehead to your temple and the way his nose nudges your burning cheek, he doesn’t budge when you attempt to push him off the second you realize you’re enjoying this. He’s built like a fucking tank. “Leon—”

“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking. 

He’s needlessly, uncharacteristically cruel. You would always want him. Leon knows this. 

“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—”

He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”

“That’s not—” You grip both of his biceps and feel the protruding veins and the flex of the muscle underneath the skin, intimidated as always by how both of your hands added together were too small to form a full hold around one. I work out a lot, was his excuse while you were first getting to know each other as acquaintances, and you’d thought how this man belonged with someone of his league. “You’re the one—” 

“You dummy, I’m not leaving you because I want to.” Leon’s arms circle your waist and pulls your body flush against his in a crushing hug, his head finding home under your chin and against your chest. It’s innocent and you feel the helplessness, the desire to hold but not be seen, but you don’t know what to do in return, his words don’t quite register. “Why would I ever when I—“ He cuts himself off, breathing shaky as the rest of the sentence dies at his throat. “Jesus, I can’t believe this.”

You tentatively hold his shoulders, surprised at how taut they are. How winded he is like some wire. “I don’t understand.”

“You are just letting me leave like that. Like some business deal done and gone, you just…” 

You can’t help the sound that escapes as he bites your earlobe. Why does he keep biting? 

“Ow!—“ Leon starts sucking, the wet sounds and his breathing directly in your ear sending shivers down your spine, and you’ve had enough of his thought processes ending up being completed by his lips on your body. 

He’s easily able to overpower you, but obeys when he feels you’re genuinely pushing him away, some strands of your hair get stuck on his face and the view of the detained obscenity of his expression  —the half-closed eyes and the missing blue, the flush of his cheekbones, glistening of his pinked lips— sends a hot wave downstairs. “It’s you. You! You’re the one leaving, Leon, I don’t get it—“

Some clarity through the pinkish haze of want dawns back to him, and he gingerly combs the threads of hair away from your face, some of them behind your ear. “I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I thought it was clear as day.” Leon searches your eyes, looking down at the details of your face, your heart races as his stare gets stuck at your lips the longest, he isn’t even aware he’s doing it and you feel feverishly desired from his insatiable look, from the slow movement of his Adam’s apple. “But—“

“You can’t help it. Right?” Your thoughts are blurring together, and he’s a black hole pulling you in. “I understand—“

Leon kisses you again, and your stolen exhale turns into a pleased hum. “Stop saying that,” he whispers with inches between your lips, eyes closed, so close your breath is his.  

“What do you want me to say?“

“Stay.” He takes your hand and brings it up, planting a singular kiss at the inside of your wrist, and then rests his cheek against your palm. You can only stare at the vulnerability he’s offering you on a silver platter, the tormenting softness is blinding. “Stay.” 

Your heart soars. God, you’ve longed for him to give away that he wants to be with you all this time, the insecurity is a blanket you’ve hidden under, this is it, but he’s so torn and you don’t get his struggle, what he must be hiding for such a visceral reaction. He wants to, but he can’t, and you don’t know why, having accepted he wouldn’t tell you from the start anyway. 

But you ask. You ask anyway. Hope is a flightless bird waiting for her wings to grow each day. “Will you?”

Something shifts, a delicate moment broken, and Leon draws back, his eyelashes flutter as if he’s shaking off some daydream — and then he’s upset, a pinch in his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—“ You’re grabbed from the arms and scooted away from his lap, putting some distance between the two of you. Leon is physically pained, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.” He holds your hands between the two of you, and you get whiplash from the passion just mere seconds ago and the tenderness of this touch. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t know why I’m this unreasonable, it’s so childish— Shit. I’m sorry, I’ll just—“

“No.” You cup his face in both hands and he looks like an abused puppy tasting kindness for the first time. “Stay for a bit.” Your heartstrings are tugged by the way Leon’s eyes are lit up. “I want to have you. One last time. Is that alright?”

A beat passes.

“Yeah,” he says, blanking out at first, but then repeats stronger, his fingers sink into the plush of your thighs as he licks his lips. “Yeah.” He turns his head and kisses your palm, somber. “You can have me however you want.”

Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?”

“I’ll always want you, any day, any time,” he says, and you’re flabbergasted at the burden of his meaning. But you force yourself to look past it, look past the unguarded and unarmed honesty, choosing to interpret it in the language of lust. 

“Not here, though.” You get up from his lap and he doesn’t stop you. “It’s kinda cramped.”

“We can make it work if you’re up for it,” he half-teases, one corner of his lips curling up, his eyes are humorless. 

You snort. Easy for him to say. He’s fit, you aren’t, that’s why being on top can’t last half the time without his assistance. “You can. I certainly can’t.”

“You keep saying I can’t to me, knowing I take it as a personal challenge.” Leon’s touch moves up your forearm and in one swift move, he pulls you in between his legs. He leaves a kiss at the lower valley between your clothed breasts. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose?”

You’re heating up right away. “I’m not—”

Leon pats his right leg, pulling up the sleeve of his shorts all the way up to the hipbone, exposing the well-endowed, firm thigh. “Sit here.”

“Your leg’s gonna get a cramp,” you say, but it’s hardly a complaint, your crotch has begun to contract at the thought of feeling the flawless skin slipping against your slick folds and how he would mold the tendons to fit just right for your pleasure. Expectation was pulling you tight right from the start where he had you hanging from his every word.  

Leon’s almost offended. “It won’t.” But his encouragement is gentle. “Come on, sweet girl.” Hooking one arm between the two layers of the bands of your underwear and pants, he lets them snap back against your skin after he pulls considerably. “And you’re taking off all that.”

You let it go. Immediately. “Fuck, okay.” 

It’s morning. You’re in the middle of the kitchen. And you’ve forgotten all of that, head lost in the beginnings of a dull throb between your legs. Your dignity would have been trampled on if you were too enthusiastic, so you try to take your time, and he asks, “How do you want to go about this?”

“Huh?”

His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”

You don’t have strength left in your knees anymore, head spinning with the way his darkened, narrowed gaze is simultaneously bearing down on and  looking up at you, and Leon helps you settle your weight on his leg after sliding your underwear down your legs, the warmth of his palms on your naked hips alone is vexing enough and it’s embarrassing that he feels the particularly strong pulse of your sex. 

He angles his leg up and you slide forward with the gathered moisture, arms catching onto his neck in surprise from the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Eager, are we?”  

You aren’t normally bold like this, would let him keep softly teasing rather than give the same energy back, but there’s a certain finality to this time, your brain is liquid smooth from the tantalizing delight of his touch, and you don’t hold back to inform just what he does to you breathily. “Always for you.”

The movement of his leg staggers and you look up to see him caught completely off guard. And the next thing you know, Leon has you in a bruising kiss, or you think it has the strength to bruise, he hasn’t been this rough before, and you certainly haven’t been craved to this extent in your entire life before him. 

This time you accept his tongue willingly into the cavern of your mouth, his fervent licks and gasps rise the question of who’s really the more eager one here, but it doesn’t really occupy space in your mind, limbs stilling overall from how he steals away all bodily functions with just kisses that radiate desperation. 

Leon ushers your hips to languidly move when you fail as a multitasker all the while the swirl of your tongues continue to tangle, and it proves difficult as your slide against him becomes smoother and wetter with him finding just how to pull the hood of your mound while you’re pulling back and drag against it in the correct angle, flexing his thigh accordingly. 

He pecks your jaw. “Faster?”

Skin contact goes straight to the tightening spiral in your stomach like this. “I can’t—”

“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”

You try to hum in agreement, but he catches you in the middle of it and jerks you forward, the sharp zap electrifies all your nerves and grants him a startled moan, you can barely see the satisfaction in his face from the sudden tears. You were somehow in control of the pace previously, but once he knows you want it faster, it’s him that anchors your hips to the edge of the stars, a man on a mission. 

Leon begins to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on your neck that has you tilting your head to give him more room, and you’re glad his heavy gaze isn’t drinking in your bliss-stricken expression anymore. “You hear that?” His question is thick. “Listen.” 

The noises your wetness make sliding across the muscles of his thigh in a rapid speed makes some of the blood rush up to your cheeks, and the knot is stretched so agonizingly beyond the point of no return that you’re hurling towards absolution, legs beginning to shake and your whines become sweeter. “Leon,” you pant, the fever to keep going as he is conveyed in one singular word reaches him. “Leon—ah, mmh— I’m— Leon!”

“Yeah, I got you.” Adoring kisses are peppered along your jawline and your fingers clutch to his blond hair, pulling him in, your stiffened, perked up nipples are smushed in the press of his chest against yours, and you arch into him like a cat, lost in the ascending ecstasy. “Just let go.” He bites down and your sore walls clench around nothing, the pulsating increasing in intensity. You’re on a thrill ride, shooting up, up, up— “Come for me, sweet girl, come on, give it to me.”  

With a sharp, choked cry, and the throw of your head back, the coil explodes and unravels, white sparkles in your vision, and Leon holds you down when your body tries to fly off with the force of your orgasm, the sinking of his hands into your sensitive flesh only heightens and sends crashing waves as he helps you ride through it, rocking lazily with you back and forth. 

“Oh god,” you shiver, clinging to him, upper body basically draped across his chest as the pleasure rolls into a stinging ache of pain with the overstimulation, bones jiggly from the floaty feeling to get away yourself. “Too much. Leon. Too much.”

His voice is croaky. “Yeah, we’re not done yet.” 

He stands up with his arms supporting your legs around his waist, and you hold on for dear life. It scares every single time he does this. Leon makes it look so easy to carry you around from room to room without breaking a sweat. 

The full meaning of his words only get to you when you’re thrown on the bed, wind knocked out of you. “Leon, wait, aren’t you going to Spain tomorrow, don’t you have to prepare—”

“I’m preparing,” he says, putting one knee on the bed and oh god, the shine on his thigh, the drench, that was all you—- “Need to get my fill of you to last for the whole trip, yeah?”

It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.  

More than one round with him is uncommon most times because he’s simply busy and moves around a lot, you weren’t used to the practice, build wired to exhaustion taking over when he was finally done with you, either hot, heavy and fast or sweet and intense, each time leaving you with honeyed sore bones and the best sleep following right after. 

Arousal pools in the pit of your belly thinking about what comes next. 

Kneeling at your feet, he taps your tight-locked  knees. “Open up for me.”

It’s morning. He could see every detail of imperfection in this light and uncertainty washes over you for a second before you do as he wishes, the sheets crinkling and rustling beneath your shifting, and he gets on his stomach and puts one of your legs to his shoulder when you thought he would be entering you already. 

Flustered, you get up on your elbows. “Leon, you don’t have to.” 

“Didn’t think you wanted to get it over with right away.” Sliding his hand up, he fans his fingers on your tummy, thumb pulling at the skin dipping into your vulva, and looks up at you from his eyelashes. Little sparks of pleasure light up at each stroke. The weight of his arm is wonderful. “Breaking my heart over here.”

“It’s not that, I…”

He scooches up, and the knowingly feather-light kiss he leaves on the inside of your thigh, close — right there but not there, makes your leg twitch. “Oh, you wanted something else?” The teasing view of Leon inches away from where you wanted him was a sight for sore eyes, but his sudden hot breath on your post-orgasmic sopping heat broke your daze, making your hips attempt to jump up, but his arm had you absolutely pinned on the mattress. “Well?” 

It’s not something you’d planned, but his wanton beauty looking up at you shoves an image inside your brain unexpectedly, reminding you how you’d said you wanted to have him, not the other way around. This is going to be the last time Leon would be like this with you, and there were so many things left unexplored. What would it feel like to have this feline-gracious, strapping man underneath you, to run your lips through his unbelievably sturdy body all over and return the kindness on how good he’s been taking care of you? Leon was always perfect to you. Is perfect. Your wish to present him with how exactly on top of the world he has you feeling for your final time, to return the favor. 

Leon has stopped moving and it’s because of your lack of reaction and the long look of contemplation regarding him. You lift his hair away from his eyes. “Can you lay down on your back?”

“You wanna get on top?” he asks, but doesn’t object to it, moving up on the bed and sitting up, getting the hint on taking off his clothes, enamored, you watch his abdomen flex and limbs stretch like a cat’s as he slips his shirt off and throws it away and shimmy off his briefs. Every single movement of his is a wonder. 

“No, I want to touch you,” you say, stare not knowing where to focus on him and his half-hard dick jumps at your words. “Explore you.”

He meets your eyes, pupils blown, and swallows, nodding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I wanted to have you, remember?” 

There’s a semblance of a laugh and Leon rolls on his back, one knee up and hands on his stomach, blond hair fanning around his head on the sheets. He looks like a sculpture. “And how will you have me?”

“Pleasured without thinking of pleasuring,” you explain, he’d be better at the dirty-talk in your position, perhaps say something like ‘Crying for me’, but you’re way too fascinated by him to think about what would have him helplessly turned on. “Vulnerable.”

You would be lucky if you are able to push him to the point of not even one thought behind those pretty blue eyes, but you just want to make him feel good, and with that in mind, reach a hand and trail the tips of your fingers through the prominent web of veins along his forearm, his fingers jump, and you continue through his upper arm, lingering on the sharp lines of lighter-colored small scars until you reach his shoulder, feeling the cluster of the goosebumps that rise in his skin. 

“Seriously?” he says with an annoyed timbre and you see him having gone completely hard, eyebrows shooting up in shock. “You’re going this slow? Am I some package you’re unboxing?�� 

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you murmur in interest, and Leon sulks at how you run all five of your fingernails all the way down the lower of his belly button and how it’s hardly even a graze at all. His abs keep contracting. “I barely touched you.”

“You, haah,” he sighs at you straddling and hovering above him. “Don’t need to point that out.”

Leon tries to hold onto your thighs but you maneuver him away, and unsurprisingly, he isn’t pleased by that, groaning. “Oh we’re doing this?”

“I’m touching you. Stay still like a good boy.”

It’s your usual banter, but for some reason, he turns his face away and closes his eyes for a second, wetting his lips as if his mouth is dry. The line of his neck clenches and unclenches and you feel the brush of his dick lightly hit the inside of your leg. You’re fascinated again. He likes this more than you expected. “God, you really want to kill me.”

Leon could stop it if he wanted to. Switch it around. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. All the times you’ve attempted to ride him and your knees and calves failed you, he ended up sitting up and hugging you close, fucking up into you and kneading your insides from below and littering your shoulders with angry red marks, taking control of the pace, especially riled up from how endearing and sexy you were trying your best to pleasure him, in his words. He can do it again, but doesn’t. Just lies there, all for you, stuck between a rock and a hard place — which, in this case, is his discomfort and enjoyment. The lack of stimulation gets him going. 

You lean down and nip at the corner of his mouth, and he responds immediately, turning back to you, chasing the kiss. His hands come up to your waist but you take them off, pinning them to his sides, and Leon complains through sharply breathing into your mouth. “I’ll only,” Kiss. “Hold you.” Kiss. “Please, just let me—” You lightly bite his tongue. 

As if he couldn’t do it if he truly wanted to. He is letting you do this to him. Pleading. In that tone of voice, too. You’re in over your head, what is happening? 

“No,” you say, kissing his jaw and caressing the hinge of his opposite jaw with your thumb, sounding stern but feeling silly inside, unsure if he’s amused by you deep down. But Leon huffs again like a spoiled brat not getting what he wants. 

You’re shell-shocked, but continue your pursuit to find out what else he likes, settling on his ear, making a line through the outer rim of soft tissue with your tongue and sucking kisses until he’s shifting around, you can hear how he’s trying to level out his breathing, then you bite, and he hisses as you repeat it over and over again. 

You’ve heard that some men enjoy getting their nipples played with, and you caress and massage, knead and fondle all over his torso with both hands as the switching of your gentle and silky mouth and the needling pleasure of teeth assault his ear, and you listen to his heavy breathing the occasional hitch of it until you circle around one nub, and flick it, rubbing down and pressing the pebbled nipple inwards, just like how he does it to you, and twist the other one. His face hides itself in your neck, and you let him have that, at least. 

His exhale turns into sound and he shuts it down pretty quickly, opting to speak up instead. “Can you—” he begins, and then tuts, sounding nonchalant, but you hear it. You hear the thickness of contained arousal. “Can you move on already?”

“You want the other ear?”

His head jerks in your position at you saying that straight into his ear and breathing into it, you know the thin sheen of saliva coating it makes the sensation sharp and cool and warming at the same time. “No—” he says, but you ignore him, cutting the rejection off by taking his other earlobe between your teeth. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t necessary—”

“If it isn’t, why is this wet?” You ask, watching him closely, tapping the pearl of clear liquid gathered at the tip of his ramrod straight hardness. It’s scalding hot, throbbing at the contact. Leon hisses between his teeth, trying to contain it, and sighs as your index finger circles the tip to spread it around, another bead of precum swelling in the wake of your touch. His eyebrows are scrunched, lips thinning and returning to their usual plushness with him pushing them together, a dust of pink coloring his complexion, a weak glare is on you. “Just enjoy it.”

“I could if you actually did something already.”   

You wrap a tight hand around Leon’s needy cock, heavy and thick, and he shouts, the cry turning into a high-pitched whine you would never dream of coming from him and he clamps a hand on his mouth right in the middle of it, hips bucking into you, head thrown back, blown eyes horrified at what he just did. His breaths are loud and shaky, face turning red in seconds, and you watch, utterly captivated. You’ve seen adorable sides of him before when he lets himself be light and his brow isn’t hanging close to his eyes in that grumpy mood, but what you have right here…   

You’re drunk on this side of his, nibbling at his exposed throat. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“God,” he whispers behind his palm, with a subtle tremble when you squeeze once and let go. His hips stutter up before falling back. Leon’s embarrassed. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t retort back, all of the sass packed and left. You can’t believe this is working. That Leon’s obeying you like this. He’s leaked all over your hand. Oh my god. 

And you’ve really barely even done anything to him. 

You can’t help but wonder if this is you doing this to Leon or he’s just into being bossed around in general. 

How further can you push?

“Look, you’ve wet my hand,” you say, bringing your glistening palm up and separating your fingers after circling the gathered precum around, a thin thread forming between the digits. Like a hawk, he watches you lap it all up and you don’t take your eyes off of his, hearing him grip the sheets. “Still gonna act like this isn’t doing anything for you?”

Leon’s voice is gravelly as he rasps, “Kiss me.” It’s something between a request and a demand that if you don’t do it, he will. 

You oblige, pushing down on his chest to get him to lie down again when it’s apparently too slow and soft for him, and he avidly presses forward to make it rougher, intertwining his tongue with yours harsher to the point of your mixed drool sliding down his chin for more. 

He’s yanking and pulling on his clasp on the dreadfully wrinkled covers in self-restraint as he bites and licks and pulls at your lips, butterflies light up the pit of your stomach and thrash against the liquefied rapture that throbs in your pussy and seeps out, the need for attention growing impatient by the minute.  

You go down and focus on kissing his neck, alternating between openmouthed licks and bites, careful not to leave marks, insides doing a summersault at the small noise of disappointment he makes that transitions into husky gasps. Leon still is concerned with suppressing any kind of unbecoming sounds he’s appalled to come out of him, and you’re bothered by that. Pressing your palm on the head of his cock and twisting sure does the trick to vocalize him a bit, restoring your confidence. 

“Ah… Can’t you just directly touch it,” he sighs gruffly. “This isn’t enough—”

“You aren’t asking nicely enough.” 

His head snaps down, brows raised in disbelief, self-consciousness clouding the teased promise of bliss that edges him on, and you stare back at him pointedly — however, on the inside, you’re worried if he’d ever beg at all. 

You twist your palm with added pressure enough to alleviate the pain, but not enough to carry him to the peak he wants to get to, and his shoulders jump up, “Ah!” Biting down on his momentarily trembling lower lip and shaking his head with closed eyes as if he doesn’t want to see you watch him be like this, he mutters, “I’m gonna get you for this…” 

You grip the base of his cock so hard his hands fly up to your wrists and with a shuddering whimper, stop at the last second before he touches you and he drapes his forearms on his reddened face instead, his back rises from the bed involuntarily, Leon’s flat-on squirming and hating it. 

“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?” 

“Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.  

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Fuck, please, come on, please.” His hands ball into fists and his arm veins pop out and his right knee curls upwards. “You can’t keep doing this to me—AHH—mhhmh—!”

His sentence gets cut off into incomprehensible babbling once you start pumping your fist up and down his neglected erection, not even needing lotion for it, he’s drenched enough to make the slide beyond slippery. You add your other hand into the mix and begin teasing the tip, and his chest, having developed a thin layer of sweat and gleaming in the sunlight, is heaving, and he can’t swallow the gasps and noises anymore, fingernails digging into his palms. You can only see his puffed, rufescent lips from the way he’s covering his face.  

“Wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’ll take it,” you say, and it’s genuine. This much alone was too much, way beyond what you thought could happen. Leon is always in control, he has it together so brilliantly that this is actually him falling apart, it’s an enthralling, spellbinding natural disaster so beautiful you can’t look away, want to touch yourself to the sight. 

“I’ll show you what I have in mind,” Leon all but snarls, and he has you on your back and pulls you towards him by your legs harshly even before shivers can go down your spine. “Let’s see if you can take that.” 

You pushed him past his limit it seems, and he darkly stares you down, eyebrows scrunched and beads of sweat rolling down his temples. sweat-dampened hair curtains his face from both sides. His hand slips behind both of your knees and scratches at the smooth skin of the crevice, shooting lightning directly into your core, and he hikes them up to hook over his shoulder and hugs one bulging arm around to hold them together, lining himself up with your slit with a trembling hand, dragging the cherry red, furious tip up and down, slipping it in for a bit, catching your insides in a tantalizing drag, and then taking it out next, making your toes curl in the air and drawing squeals out of you. 

Leon would normally send you to the underground and back from how horribly he’d tease you for being this drenched for him, but he’s strained and silent now, snapping his hips against yours and burying himself to the hilt in the spasming cavern of your pussy in one go, with no resistance from how ready for him you were, ripping a fractured cry from you as your vision blacks and stars dance behind your eyes. He groans gutturally, cock pulsing inside, and you feel the sound in your body. You’re overly sensitive from head to toe, and even the sheets sliding against your burning skin makes your clit throb painfully, deliciously. 

He doesn’t start slow or build to something, it’s quick and rough right off the bat as he’s ramming into you with no mercy, and he’s basically catapulting you into glorious completion, but you need more stimulation, more, something more—

He slaps your hand away when you try to reach down to your clit to slip two fingers between your tightly shut legs and falls on his forearms, “No way I’m letting you do that.” Leon arranges your legs to wrap around his waist, grinding against you. 

His attention then shifts to something else and he pulls on the sleeve of your shirt that’s still on, a scheming shine comes to the blue of his eyes that worry you, and then he’s leaning in and forcing it up. It’s hard for you to move your back and slip it off with the way he’s pinning you down, and it dawns on you late after you make the mistake of raising your arms that it’s what he wants after all. After getting your head out, Leon turns it inside out around the entire length of your arms that act as a makeshift restraint and leaves it like that, you’re incapacitated with your hands over your head like this. 

You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”

The frantic slap of skin against skin is echoing in the room and you struggle against the bunched up shirt around your arms. “Can’t—”

“You’re doing it on purpose at this point.” He laces his fingers into your hair on top of your head, thumb on your forehead in little caresses, contrasting how he fucks you shallow and fast, his voice a couple octaves higher than it usually is as he angles your hips upwards to hit deeper, and your moans are a metronome in beat to his ruthless pace. 

“Yeah, that’s right, take it!” Eyes glazed over, mouth agape, the muscles in his thighs jumping, body pulled taut, wrecked and somehow begging, Leon doesn’t leave a single spot unkissed on your face and throat and he’s hurling towards an uncontrolled craze, he’s so close himself. “More? You want more? Too bad, this is it—mmm—for what you just did to me, and you’re gonna take it!” 

You’re clamping down on him and he hisses in your ear as you repeat it like a mantra, Leon is wrenching a merciless orgasm from you and you have no control over it, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—!”   

Leon’s delectable weight pins you down as you shoot up with the detonation of the pleasure into a thousand pieces, rippling through your body in building waves, your pussy clenching down on him catches him off guard and he unceremoniously spills into you with a choked, staccato shout shuddering, the succulent warmth coating your insides and adding to the ecstasy, and it just keeps coming, his load is too heavy and too much. Your stiffened legs lock the shivering man in place and tremble around his waist as he languidly rides his bliss out, forehead sticky against your clavicle, the sheer strength with which he holds you against him is euphoric rather than suffocating. 

“God, what the fuck was that,” he mumbles at some point, collapsing on top of you and turning you around with him so he won’t crush you, pulling you to his sweaty chest and putting his chin on top of your head. His scent has you in a fuzzy daze. “What did you do to me?”

You don’t respond, consciousness slipping from your fingers and pulling you deep into the sweet comfort of the dark. 

You feel his hand on your cheek, lightly nudging. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Mhm,” you manage to make out. “Wanna sleep…”

“Okay, sweet girl, I got you,” he says, soft and endeared, from far, far away. 

And with that, you’re out like a light. 

When you wake up, you find yourself thoroughly cleaned up, in comfortable, cotton pajamas, with no Leon in sight and a small note left on your nightstand with the keys to your apartment on top of it. 

It reads: Had to go. I’m sorry about not staying until you woke up. Talk to you when I get back.

You plop back on your fluffy pillows and sigh, chest hurting. It was always going to end this way. In hindsight, you’ve seen it coming. 

Your heart doesn’t agree, tears freely falling from your eyes. It’s really over. Leon really left like that. Just as he came into your life. 

You don’t have the right to complain. You’d agreed to it in the first place. 

[after-witch]

Caring Was a Thing With Claws [Yandere Sigma x Reader]

Title: Caring Was a Thing with Claws [Yandere Sigma x Reader]

Synopsis: Sigma is good at caring for Sky Casino. And he finds that he really, really wants to care for you, too.

Word Count: 2000ish

notes: yandere, unhealthy relationship, kidnapped reader, kissing, drugging

You do not belong at the Sky Casino. Sigma knows this the instant that you’re granted access, all nervous smiles and downcast looks at the guards who usher you politely (but by no means meekly--they were hired to keep his clients, his world, secure, after all) through the security system.

Not that you would be the type to be hiding weapons or some secret, dangerous motive. No, no, that’s not you. He gets a read on you instantly, and he doesn’t even have to touch you. Though, he thinks, neither are you some voracious gambler looking for a higher thrill than those found in measly casinos on land. 

So why are you here? It’s curious. A debt you must pay, perhaps? Someone leaving home for the first time, intent on something new and exciting?

Ah, but he doesn’t really have time to be curious about someone that doesn’t pose a security risk, does he? So he shelves away that curiosity with his other unwanted things. Instead, he’ll stick to what he needs to know: your name, what you like, what you dislike. The facts necessary to create a mental shelf that will help you enjoy your time here.

That’s what he does best, make everyone within the casino happy. And safe. Safe as they can be, here in the sky, under his leadership. It’s all he has, this place, this space, these myriads of bells and whistles; sights and sounds that haunt his dreams, ephemeral though they are; now you, too, are part of that machine underneath him. 

--

Your code name is B8934. You don’t belong here.  You don’t fit in.

But he hates it when leave, all the same.

Because you really are different from the others. 

The first time he spoke with you, he almost couldn’t hear your voice. Soft and sweet, a whispering gentle tones that seemed to pull him towards you. But it was you who leaned in towards him, repeating yourself, apologizing for being so quiet. So shy. He told you it was nothing, no problem, and you cleared your throat to repeat your words.

“Your hair.” He had blinked at you, and you stammered out: “I like it, I mean. It’s really pretty.”

A new feeling had come over him then. A strange one. A prickling in his cheeks, a slight pressure. You didn’t realize it at the time, but you’d just stolen his first blush. 

And… it continued from there.  Your attentions. You sought him out, here and there, and at first it raised the creeping ivy of his defenses. Did you think he might rig games in your favor, if you befriended him? You wouldn’t be the first to try and, as he read in a book and spend an hour agonizing over the non-literal meaning, “butter him up.” 

But you weren’t like that. It became clearer and clearer with every day, every meeting, every hour you spent with him. You weren’t looking to manipulate him for anything; you were simply being you. 

You’re sweet. Kind. Entirely out of place here.

And Sigma thinks he might be in love with you. 

Yes, this must be the feeling that swells in his chest every time he sees you. Alone or in a crowd. It makes him feel faintly sick, and sometimes he even catches sweat building on the back of his neck. Words, which don’t always come easily to him anyway, seem to stammer and stutter all the more often.

This awful pressure in his chest, which is perhaps not so awful at all, makes him want to write down everything he can about you. So he does, carefully jotted in a notepad that he’s dedicated entirely to you and no one else. 

You don’t spend a lot of money. Perhaps you don’t have it. You don’t like seafood, but you sometimes eat oysters if someone else buys them and encourages you to down a few. He finds that he hates this, when it happens; hates the sight of you laughing with someone else. You laugh too loudly sometimes and then catch yourself doing it, and you touch your cheeks, even if you’re only talking with him--do your cheeks burn?

All this and more, carefully recorded and organized, so that he can reference it when he needs to; after all, if the casino is under his management and protection, don’t you fall within that carefully drawn up category? His goal is to keep the casino safe. To keep the patrons happy. 

You should be safe and happy too.

But more and more, he finds himself asking that same question: can you be safe and happy if he’s not there to make sure it happens? Who knows what you get up to in the outside world. 

Here, you can be a little too naive. A little too trusting. You sit close to drunk men who edge their greedy fingers on their thighs, and you never notice until they brush your skin and you slap them off. You accept fancy drinks bought by strangers with a grin and a raise of the glass. You bet too much money and drink too many roaming glasses of free champagne, stumbling and woozy by the end of the night.

You are in over your head, clearly.

He sees it, even if you don’t.

And that’s why he slipped a sedative into the cocktail delivered to your table tonight. You downed it without a second thought, which only confirmed his decision. 

You’ll thank him eventually, he thinks. When you realize that this is for the best.

--

The last thing you remember is losing a round of blackjack and downing a pretty pink cocktail that someone (but who?) sent to you. On the house, the waiter said, and that’s all you needed to hear before drinking the entire glass in one undignified gulp.

Maybe that’s why your head hurt so much. (Okay, that, and the multiple cocktails you’ve had tonight.) Maybe that’s why you couldn’t remember how you got here, in… someone’s room, on their nice, soft bed? 

Maybe that’s why there was a chain on your ankle.

Oh.

What?

Your clarity sobers up enough for you to yank hard at your leg, which rattles with the weight of a thick, silver chain attached to a silver bracelet around your ankle. The sight of the chain, the feel of its weight, the realization that something is terribly, terribly wrong all seem to crush your chest at once. 

Sobs come then, wheezy sobs, accompanied by thick tears that drip down your cheeks. 

“It’s… all right. Calm down.”

Your body jerks--Who is it--and your eyes dart until the source of the voice steps into the light.

And just like that, you stop crying. You break into a relieved, shaky smile. 

Because it’s Sigma. Sigma walks out of the shadows and for a brief moment, your heart soars. He’s here to rescue you! You got drugged by some creep and he’s looking out for you, like he always seems to do. He’s kinder than he realizes, and you’ll tell him exactly that after he gets you out of here.

Only he doesn’t seem to be moving towards your chained up ankle. Nor does he seem to look shocked at what he sees. He only looks... concerned, which is reasonable. But 

“I-I promise it’s not permanent,” he says, gesturing towards the chain. “It’s just to make sure you don’t hurt yourself while you’re still… adjusting.” He looks around, eyes downcast and uncomfortable. “You have everything you could ever need here. Good food. A comfortable bed. I’ll make sure you never need anything and never get hurt.” There’s something like pep in his voice that makes you want to puke. “I promise. I’m very good at managing these things. If-if there’s something you don’t like, I can get you some things, some books or--”

“Sigma,” you say, voice cracking. “What’s going on? Why--why am I chained up? What did you do?”

His eyes widen. His mouth opens, then closes.

“I’m going to take care of you.”

“But why?”

And then there’s a pager going off, and he huffs, pulling out his phone and flipping it open with hands that shake. 

“What is it?” You watch his eyebrows furrow. His frown twitch. “I’ll be right there.”

He glances at you, and he looks so sad and worried that some part of you wants to feel sorry for him. But then the reality that you’ve woken up on a bed (his bed?) with a chain on  your leg comes swinging back, and that fades away.

“I’ll be back soon. There’s…” He gestures towards the top of a dresser pushed against the wall, which you can see is littered with snack bags and water bottles. “Just for now, don’t worry, I’ll have real meals brought in. And um.” He stares down at the floor, and a peek flush creeps onto his cheeks. “The chain can reach the… bathroom, if you need to.”

He turns, and you almost get the impression that he’s forcing himself to leave without looking at you. His name dies on your lips before you can speak it.

And just like that, you’re alone.

Chained up.

In an unfamiliar room.

Because of Sigma? But why? Wasn’t he your friend? Or, as close to a friend as you could get, considering he basically owns the place?

And what did he intend to do with you? He didn’t seem like… that kind of guy. He was quiet, shy. A bit like you, except he didn’t drink, which always made you loosen up more. 

Curiosity and fear lead you to slowly step off the bed. Your head is still fuzzy from the drinks or drugs or both. But you don’t stumble as much as you thought you would when you make your way around the room, dragging the silver chain behind you.

There’s a dresser. A nightstand. The bed. A TV, but there’s a layer of dust all over it, and you doubt it’s been used much. 

A desk. Although it’s not messy, it’s terribly cluttered, covered in a few stacks of books and assorted printed pages all bound together. There are all sorts of bookmarks and sticky notes in them, and you can see the traces of pen ink on the margins of them. He’s been studying… something… hard.

A book on nutrition. A printed analysis on the optimum temperature for indoor health and wellness in all seasons from the maker of some heating and cooling system. A vintage volume bound in fabric with the gilded scrawl, “A Conversational Guide to Making Conversation.”

Your fingers just touch the edge of a printed article entitled oh-so-bluntly How to Kiss when the secure door slides open and Sigma steps in.

He stares at you.

You stare at him. 

Then he looks down to see what your fingers touch, to see that you’ve found his stash of reading material, and his skin flushes.

“That’s--it’s just--” And oh, how his stammering might be cute, if you were anywhere but here, in this room, with a chain trailing from your leg. “I wanted to make sure I did things right when I brought you here.”

Things.

Like feeding you. And keeping you warm.

And kissing you?

Heat creeps up from your toes to your scalp.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you murmur. Of all your conversations with Sigma--the shows you liked, the books you read, the cat you saw at your neighbor’s apartment window every morning--you’d never touched on anything like this. Why would you? This was something you kept tucked away at the back of your drawer, never to be known to anyone but yourself.

“Of course you haven’t,” he says, and there’s something like eagerness in his voice. “I haven’t either. I mean, I want to--with you--I’ve been waiting.”

Waiting, you think? For me? No, not for me. Waiting until he could take me.

Because that’s what he does. He takes.

He takes a step forward, and you’re afraid to move. Even when he takes another step, and another, and he’s standing so close that you can feel the warmth of his body against yours.

He takes those steps, and then he takes your first kiss. He doesn’t grab you or hurt you or force you, and maybe that makes it hurt more. 

His lips are soft. There’s a faint scent--mint, maybe--that lingers from his breath. He doesn’t stick out his tongue, but only covers your lips with his own, a faint wetness clinging to your lips as he pulls away.

His breath is heavy. So is yours. For different reasons, you imagine. Very different reasons.

You step backward now, chain clinking, until you hit the bed. Your legs give out--this is not the knee buckling that is meant to happen with a kiss, is it?--and you stare ahead. At Sigma, but not at him, all the same. 

The silence between you stretches thin until he clears his throat.

“Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”

You nod, even though the last thing you want right now is food.

“I’ll get something!” He says, perhaps too quickly, because then he’s clearing his throat and repeating himself. “I’ll have a meal brought up. I know all your favorites, and I’ve made sure they’re extra nutritious.” He blinks, then seems to consider something. “Ah, are you cold? I can go get you something warmer, flannel or a blanket or…” 

“Yes,” you answer, not really listening. 

His voice seems far away. You seem far away, even to yourself. 

Your fingers clench the soft, silk sheets underneath you and a slow, rolling thought wraps itself around you like an unwelcome blanket.

That was your first kiss. He took your first kiss. Or you gave it, and maybe here, in his room, with a chain keeping you from going too far, it’s the same damn thing. 

And it won’t just be your first kiss that he takes, is it? No. A glance around the room, a bit of applied thought, can attest to that. He intends to keep you for… forever?

Forever is a long time and so much will slip away from you, right into his hands. Onto his lips, onto his fingers. Sigma will be your first everything. Your first kiss.  Your first cuddle. The first one who tenderly kisses your knuckles and works his way up your arm to your neck, tickling it with peppered touches. 

He’ll be the one to take your virginity, too, and there’s some awful feeling in your stomach as you idly wonder if he’s gotten a book about that particular topic yet. 

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXXVI)

Chapter 36: ‘So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Time for an adorable first date!!! Also, a reminder that this is not meant to be read by minors…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3839

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Of love

I have been in love more times than one, thank the Lord. Sometimes it was lasting whether active or not. Sometimes it was all but ephemeral, maybe only an afternoon, but not less real for that. They stay in my mind, these beautiful people, or anyway beautiful people to me, of which there are so many. You, and you, and you, whom I had the fortune to meet, or maybe missed. Love, love, love, it was the core of my life, from which, of course, comes the word for the heart. And, oh, have I mentioned that some of them were men and some were women and some—now carry my revelation with you— were trees. Or places. Or music flying above the names of their makers. Or clouds, or the sun which was the first, and the best, the most loyal for certain, who looked so faithfully into my eyes, every morning. So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began.

Mary Oliver, Red Bird

Andrew looked at his reflection in the mirror, hesitated, freed his hair from the bun he had gathered it in.

He heaved a sigh, trying to slow down his heart, to alleviate the knot in his stomach.

He was so fucking nervous. God, Andrew had not been this nervous since his first date with Samantha. No, scratch that. He had not been so nervous since he had presented his thesis.

He checked his outfit again, pondered his choice for the hundredth time. A black shirt, black pants, black vest, brown leather shoes. Was it too much black?

He shook his head. He looked good in all black, his mother had told him so, and he trusted her with this. He readjusted his glasses. Should he wear contacts? Sam liked him better with contacts rather than glasses…

Fuck Samantha.

Andrew preferred wearing glasses, and so he kept them perched on his nose.

Hair up, or hair down?

He couldn’t choose, thought his hair looked good enough today even if he let it loose but then again he didn’t want to have his hair always falling before his face. He opted for the middle ground, tied up only a few strands in a half bun and let the rest fall loosely to his shoulders.

Yeah… he looked good enough.

He added a little bit of his cologne, just to make sure he smelled nice. He turned towards his dog, who was lying behind him on the floor, his head resting on his front paws.

“So… Elwood… what do you think? Do I look nice?”

The dog lifted his head at the sound of his name, making Andrew chuckle. He walked over to pet Elwood behind the ears.

“Yeah, I agree. I look decent enough. Wish me luck! I’m gonna need it.”

Andrew had made sure he wasn’t going to be late, even if he had to drop Elwood at his brother’s. He had set up five alarms to mark the passing of time. And indeed, when he knocked on your door, he was two minutes early.

He was picking you up tonight. For your first date he was the one planning everything. He hoped you would like the evening he had planned for you. He wanted to impress you, to be honest. He wanted to show you that he could be better than Frank, that you didn’t have to regret your choice…

He took a couple of deep breaths as he waited before your front door, looking at the bouquet of flowers in his hands. Your favourites, he had made sure to choose them. He hoped you would like them.

When you opened your door, he was left speechless. He froze, stared, couldn’t help his eyes from raking your frame. You in your emerald dress, the one he had bought with you and that he had dreams about, the way you had tied your hair, the light glimmer of a jewel around your neck…

You… you were… so fucking…

“Gorgeous.”

You raised a surprised but amused eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips now. And Andrew blushed all the way up to his ears…

He cleared his throat, tried to overcome his embarrassment. God, he really was the worst…

“You… Hi.”

“Hi,” you let out in an excited breath, grinning up at him.

“You… you look beautiful,” he complimented you, making you shy away a little.

“Thanks. You look nice too.”

He grinned at that, a wave of pride washing over his heart.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

He handed you his flowers, and you thanked him again, breathing in their sweet scent.

“These are my favourite flowers.”

“I know,” he nodded, and you seemed touched by his answer, emotional now.

“You’re ready to go?” he asked.

“Sure! Just have to put these in some water and grab my purse. Come in.”

He obliged, waited while you were getting ready. He was fidgeting when you came back, his shoulders bent, nerves making him want to disappear. He had to bend to pass your doorframe, and he hadn’t straightened his posture after that.

You noticed as you walked back from your kitchen, found him still standing before your door, rubbing at his palms. And you were frowning now, slowly approaching him.

God… were you second-guessing this already?

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

He looked at you, surprised.

“’Course. Just… a bit nervous, I guess.”

The understatement of the century. He was this far from shitting his pants…

You reached out, placed your hand on his upper arm. His heart quickened at the touch, he felt his muscles relax without being able to control his own body.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Look smaller than you are.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow, but didn’t straighten his posture.

“You do that when you’re sad, or feel bad, or just… want to disappear. Are you… Are you uncomfortable with us going on a date?”

“Uncomfortable? No, of course not… I’m… nervous. Terrified that I’m going to do something stupid and ruin our date, but… no, I’m not uncomfortable with us dating at all, on the contrary.”

“I like it, you know? How tall you are. I really like that about you. So… no need to shrink down when you’re around me, alright?”

His heart was filled with warmth, and finally, Andrew stood straighter again.

“Besides… I’m already in love with you. So… no pressure. It’s not like you have to seduce me or anything.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Right…”

You offered him a tender smile, narrowing your eyes a little at him, mischief painted all over your features.

“Actually… can you bend down for a second?”

He frowned.

“Why?”

“Just for a sec.”

Slowly, he obeyed.

“A bit more…”

He bent down again, until you were raising to your tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

You gave him a toothy grin, a mischievous one that made him giggle like a lovesick fool.

“Alright, now we’re ready to go,” you smiled, and he followed you outside of your flat again, his skin burning where your lips had touched him, feeling a little light-headed after your gesture, dizzy with your perfume.

He drove the two of you outside Dublin, all the way down to Wicklow. Andrew finally started to relax during the drive, conversation settling smoothly, as it always did with you. The sun was setting, it would soon be nighttime, but for now the light was painting the sky with golden and red, stripes of purple stretching towards the horizon.

“You haven’t even told me where we’re going!” you noted, and Andrew smirked.

“That’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“Hmm… I hope you’ll like it. Had to ask for some help from locals to get everything ready.”

“Really?”

“Hmm.”

“What have you planned?” you asked, fully intrigued by now.

“Ha! Won’t say! It would spoil everything.”

You mumbled something about Andrew being annoying, and it made him laugh.

Indeed, he had asked a few friends to help him set up the scenery he wanted for the date. He was also using a part of the land owned by some family friends.

You frowned as you entered the property, but didn’t head towards the house; Andrew aimed the wheel towards the small wood instead, that stretched beyond the fields of barley.

“Where are we going?” you asked again.

“This property belongs to some friends. My parents live nearby, they’re practically neighbours, have been friends for decades. I asked if I could spend the evening on the edge of their wood. We shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“Oh… right…”

“They own the whole farm,” Andrew explained.

“Okay…”

“Don’t worry, no one is going to come during our date. I just needed a nice spot to set up my terrible plan.”

You chuckled at that, let Andrew drive the rest of the way in silence.

He parked by the edge of the trees, opened the door for you, and you smiled at the gallant gesture, a tinge of teasing in your smile.

“Oh, thank you, dear knight in shining armour…”

He rolled his eyes.

“Come on, don’t take the piss. Let me be romantic tonight, alright? The lad is doing his best…”

“Alright, alright… sorry.”

“Right, you need to close your eyes now.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes. This is a surprise. Don’t worry, it’s just behind those trees. And I won’t let you fall.”

He offered you his open palm.

“Trust me.”

His smile was kind, infinitely tender. You stared at him, but he didn’t read hesitation in your eyes, your expression was a little too emotional for that. Still, you nodded, slipped your fingers in his hand.

“I do trust you, Andy,” you tenderly smiled up at him, before closing your eyes, and Andrew struggled to breathe at your words, his heart feeling warm again.

“Although… I don’t know if I should,” you joked, back with your playful tone. “You are a pretty clumsy lad…”

He laughed at that.

“A clumsy giraffe, that’s what I am.”

Still, when he gently pulled on your hand, you followed him.

You walked for no more than a couple of minutes, before reaching a tiny clearing. Nothing impressive, but there was enough space between the pines and oak trees for Andrew to set up his plan.

He had hung a large set of white sheets between two trees, had set a projector so you could watch a movie. A blanket, some cushions and a picnic were set to eat during the film. He had borrowed some fairy lights from his parents to hang them around the clearing, and his brother and Alex had helped him set them up.

It looked nice. He hoped you would like it…

“Alright, you can open your eyes.”

You blinked, gasped as you took in the view. You looked around, found no words to say.

“Andy…”

When you turned to him again, you had tears in your eyes.

“This… this is…”

He offered you a shy smile, trying to take in the view as well. The way the sunset was painting your frame with orange hues, how the fairy lights shown in your eyes…

“Do you like it?”

You laughed, blinking tears away.

“I love it. This is… this is better than what I had imagined.”

“Good,” he whispered, burying his hands in his pockets, feeling himself relax.

“What are we watching?”

“A movie you like,” he answered simply, moving towards the cushions so you would both take a seat.

The picnic was simple, nothing too fancy, but you were glowing, a grin permanently glued to your lips, and so Andrew reckoned that he was doing something good. When the evening turned into night, that the sun finally disappeared beyond the Wicklow Hills, and that the moon and stars were left to light up the heavens with silver, Andrew proposed to watch the movie while you ate your dessert. You nodded eagerly, waited patiently while Andrew was setting up the movie with his laptop.

You recognised Pride and Prejudice with the first frame, gasped at the sight.

“This is perfect, Andy,” you breathed.

You leaned closer, letting your shoulder and head rest against his arm. He kissed your hair.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked in a quiet voice, warm and deep, and he noticed how you leaned even closer, until he was snaking an arm around your waist.

“This is… perfect,” you repeated yourself, and Andrew grinned, feeling proud and content.

“Good… That’s grand…”

“Andy… you know I… don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, by any means. This is magical. It’s… no one has ever done anything like this for me.”

He tightened his hold on your waist without noticing, his heart speeding up as he felt dread replace peace.

“But?” he encouraged you to continue.

“But you don’t need to impress me, you know? I… I love you. This is amazing, but spending time with you is enough to make me happy. Okay? I don’t need all of this to be happy to be with you.”

He felt tears rising to his eyes, but he blinked them away as he nodded.

“Thank you…”

“No, thank you, Andy. Thank you for tonight, thank you for everything…”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, picking up some fruits and watching Elizabeth and Darcy fall in love all over again…

You helped Andrew pack up everything in his car, leaving the clearing undisturbed by human activity again but for the fairy lights hung in the trees, Andrew would come back for these later. You failed to spot the owl you heard before leaving, but you didn’t mind. You took one last look at the small clearing, at the moon almost to its fullest above your head, at the stars shining bright and clear against the inky sky, and you thanked them for keeping a warm and bright weather for tonight.

Andrew drove you home, you chatted all the way, sang along to the songs on the radio and laughed at the lyrics you invented. He walked you to the door of your building, and you both remained standing there for a couple of minutes, under the pretence of finishing your conversation when, really, you simply didn’t want to part. At last, once neither of you had anything left to say, you looked up at him in silence, hesitating. You didn’t want him to leave…

You noticed how his cheeks grew a little pink, how his gaze grew more intense, entrapping your stare. They held such tenderness as they rested upon your features, such fondness… you dared to call it love…

And Christ, Andrew was so handsome like this. All in black, elegant and so damn tall, with his hair held back to reveal his features. You wanted to trace the edge of his sharp jaw, you longed to feel the roughness of his beard under the pads of your fingers, to kiss the bright pink of his lips… And in the streetlights the red in his hair and beard shone brighter than usual, his eyes a darker shade of green and brown. Your heart was pounding at the sight, your entire body heating up at the thought of reaching out to touch him…

“Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can I… Can I kiss you?”

You grinned at that, reassured. He wanted the same thing as you did. Andrew wanted you too…

You finally noticed that his breathing was irregular, loud and slightly trembling. That his fingers, as they reached for your hand, were warm and calloused and unsure. He seemed vulnerable, waiting for your answer. As if he didn’t really believe this was happening either, as if he too was unconsciously awaiting a rejection.

You closed the space between your hands, intertwined your fingers together, and Andrew released a long breath.

You stared right into his eyes as you spoke.

“Please… kiss me, Andy.”

Something changed in his expression, then. It held the same tenderness still, the same loving expression, something close to adoration. But instead of doubt and fragility, his gaze darkened, he seemed more confident again. His grin was bright and a little dreamy as he reached up to cup your face in his large hand. And if it made you feel small, his touch also made you feel safe.

Slowly, he bent down, while you went to your tiptoes to meet him halfway. When he finally kissed you, it was like the world had disappeared, like you were the only beings left in the universe, like time itself had stopped to grant you this moment. You let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Meanwhile, his now free hand was resting on the small of your back, pressing you against him. For how long you kissed, you couldn’t have guessed. All you knew was that when you finally pulled away, gasping for air, head spinning a little, your chin burning because of his short beard, all you wanted was to kiss him again, and again, and again…

“Andy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you want to come in?”

He blinked his eyes open, stared at you, but there was nothing but want, desire and awe to find in your gaze. And so, Andrew let out a shaky breath.

“You’re sure?” he asked anyway, even if the answer was obvious, written all over your features.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you nodded.

Before you could add another word, Andrew was kissing you again, more urgently this time, something filled with sparks and want, kissing you like he never wanted to stop…

He did break away though, nodding, his nose brushing against yours in the process.

“Yeah… yeah, I definitely want to come in.”

You giggled at that, noticed he was blushing, but you still took his hand and guided him inside the building.

In the elevator, his lips were back on yours, he was pressing your back against the wall, hands holding tightly your waist. You had rarely felt so wanted in your life, and you were not even in your apartment yet, let alone your bedroom.

He followed you to your door, you noticed the way he closed and opened his hands repeatedly, as if refraining to reach out and touch you.

The second you were locking your door, Andrew was kissing you again, pressing your back to the wooden surface, holding onto you tightly.

“Y/N?” he whispered against your lips, and you hummed quietly to encourage him to continue. “You… I trust you to tell me if anything feels wrong, if you don’t want me to do something, if you feel uncomfortable or… whatever. Alright? No matter what it is. Okay?”

You looked up at him, pupils blown, and panting with want, hair already made a mess by your fingers, glasses a little lopsided upon his nose. You had never felt as safe as you did in this moment.

“Okay. Same for you. I trust you to tell me. And I trust you to stop, too.”

He gave you a reassuring smile, silently nodding. He kissed you again, tenderly, softly this time. Slow and loving.

“I love you,” he whispered against your mouth, stealing all the air from your lungs.

“I love you too, Andy. I love you…”

You kissed him once more, passion making your movements more urgent again, he groaned when you gently captured his lower lip between your teeth.

“You’ll be the fucking death of me…” he murmured.

He let out a breathy chuckle, the kind that revealed he seemed barely able to believe this was real…

“Can I undress you?” he asked, voice deep and low, the sound alone making your entire body tremble.

“Yes… God, yes… Can I undress you?”

“Please, do…”

A second later, his jacket was on the ground; your shoes soon followed.

You felt the tip of his fingers glide up your waist, sneak behind you to touch the bare skin of your back. Every fibre of your being was on fire, boiling, burning, burning…

“Any boundary I should know about before we do this?” he asked, voice so deep, you thought you were losing your mind.

His warm breath was fanning over your lips and chin, reminding you how close he was.

“Erm… I don’t know… Nothing that could hurt, I guess…”

He chuckled sweetly.

“I’m not much of a bdsm kind of guy either, if that can reassure you.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed, you absolute softy…”

“Anything else?”

You couldn’t think straight, had nothing to add. You asked back the question.

“Nothing I can think of right now… but then… it’s hard to think at the moment.”

You both giggled at that, and if you were still both highly turned on, you bathed in the solace of the moment, all trust and tenderness.

“You’re still okay with me undressing you? With me touching you like this?” he asked, and you nodded.

“You too?”

He chuckled, something darker in his gaze as he bent closer to kiss you again.

“Y/N… you have no idea how much I want you…”

His lips moved to your jaw, your cheek, your neck. He nibbled at the tender flesh over your pulse, kissed and tasted your skin with a brush of his tongue…

Your legs were shaking, you were ready to combust right there, against your front door.

His fingers were back to your waist and then moved up your frame as he spoke again, a path excruciatingly slow across the velvety material of your dress, from your waist to the edge of your breasts. He flattened his hands on your stomach, and you took a sharp intake of breath at how big they felt across your torso.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he confessed into your ear, before sucking on the skin behind it. “Dreamt of you… Christ… I want you so fucking bad. The sins I want to commit with you…”

Then his hands left your stomach to travel down to your arse, and then to the back of your thighs, a silent demand to let him carry you to your bedroom. You didn’t hesitate as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his torso and kissing him again. You undid the buttons of his shirt while he walked to your bedroom, letting your fingers cover his breasts, touch his chest hair, fall across his stomach. He shuddered under your touch, his breathing stammering, and you felt so powerful like this, held within his arms and able to summon such reactions from him.

“God… I want to taste you so bad,” he confessed, and you were surprised at how straightforward he was about this. “Can I? Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Yes… yes, please…”

The undressing resumed, he peeled off your dress, your stockings, your underwear from you, and you pushed away his clothes as well.

There was so much awe in his gaze as he took you in, eyes travelling your body as if to make sure he would remember every inch. When he caught your gaze once more, you could read nothing but want and adoration in his dilated pupils.

A silent question, one last checking in to make sure you were still fine to continue, and you nodded, reaching up to touch him, no matter where, you only longed to feel the warmth of his skin under your palm. You untied his hair, the last item remaining on his body, while his glasses had been discarded to your bedside table a while ago. His hair fell down around the two of you, you giggled as it tickled your shoulders, and so did Andrew. When he lowered his lips to your skin again, it was with the intention to touch and kiss every inch of you, make sure you knew how much he longed to worship you.

Your eyes closed with his lips reaching at long last their final destination across your skin, and the groan he let out when you pulled on his hair as a reaction to your pleasure made you question whether this was real or merely one of your dreams.

[galebrainrot2024]

Day Two

Summary: a snippet of the journey of Gale and falling in love with you, a follow up to Night One | Ao3

Gale’s eyes shot open, jolting him from sleep as his body began to spasm and ache. Cold sweat pooled at the back of his neck and he felt the acrid bile rise in his throat. Gasping for air, he gripped his chest, hoping the shudders of death would pass.

His skin pulsed beneath the orb, vibrant and alive, until it lulled to its similar, yet hungry rhythm. As it did, Gale’s eyes fluttered shut. He sighed. Relief washed over him, a thought that perhaps his luck was turning around after all.

Although the rancor of the troupe beckoned the start of day, Gale laid in the bed roll until he was sure he could steady himself. He clenched his hands in and out, seeing the blood pulse through his forearms and to his fingertips.

For so long he took being alive for granted. Now, not only was it likely he would die by detonation, it was also likely he’d become a mindflayer as well.

And then he would cease to exist.

Everything he had learned about mindflayers indicated a near absolute certainty - that upon sprouting tentacles and elongated digits, your soul (for all intents and purposes) vanished. It became nothing.

The fear of death was one matter. The fear of ceasing to exist was another. Although he wasn’t sure which was preferable at present since he had no God to claim him and would be destined to wander, listless, for all eternity.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tightly, the daylight too strong, too bright and it made his head ache. There were so many unruly emotions flooding his senses he needed to ground himself lest he erupt. Gale thought of his favorite meal, how tedious it was to prepare, how gratifying it was at the end of his efforts.

Steady.

Everyone had slept haphazardly, close to others but not too close - these were still strangers, after all. Gale was pleasantly surprised when you set your bed roll up closest to his.

What a wonder it was to feel alive for the first time in quite a while, to feel his pulse quicken to catch the eye of another, the air of uncertainty and adventure crackling around them.

“Are you just about ready? I’m sorry to rush you..” You said, almost shy. Gale rubbed the back of his neck before laughing and slapping his knee.

“What’s a wizard without a bit of dilly-dallying, eh?” When you offered a halfhearted grin he felt.. he couldn’t quite place it.

You see, when you are in relation with a God nothing feels quite real. It’s primarily intangible, an ephemeral exchange of bodies and minds that is difficult to quantify in mortal terms. Although he was merely a man, having experienced intimacy with a God had left him uncertain with traditional exchanges and emotions.

“Tas’ki,” Lae’zel spat, her face contorted. “Do you think it time for joking, wizard, or has the tadpole consumed what little sense you had?”

Gale smirked, an eyebrow quirked by her bluntness. Githyanki were known to be driven warriors, but being in the company of one was still jarring. “I’m not sure there was any there to begin with. If tadpoles needed sense to feast on, consider mine thoroughly starved.”

She rolled her eyes but again, he won a small snort from you.

It was invigorating being in the company of others. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed it.

Although it wasn’t long into the day until both Astarion and Lae’zel told Gale, in no uncertain terms, that if he kept yabbering on about the differences between mud mephits and magma mephits (in fairness, you had asked) he would no longer have a tongue with which to yabber with.

Gale rather liked his tongue.

It was disorienting going from extreme isolation to consistent companionship, so much so there were more than a few moments he chose to linger behind for some quiet. Although he could turn on the charm, it was exhausting. Particularly with his current condition. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice.

“Are you alright?”

He jumped, standing quick to turn around and there you were. Why? “Oh! I didn’t expect… you follow me?”

You shrugged and leaned against a tree, almost too casually. He wondered how you managed to keep such composure under the circumstances. If they didn’t find a healer within the day it was almost guaranteed they were doomed. Cooked like a poached egg. “Can’t have anyone wondering off too far,” you said, dramatically throwing up your arms in show, “lest you become a mindflayer.” Although your tone was light, the seriousness of the situation weighed upon you. “I respect the need for quiet, though - let me know if you need anything.”

Before he could say anything else you left him to his thoughts. He inhaled, knowing the more time that passed the more difficult it would be for him to bring himself to tell you what he needed, why he needed it. So, after they stumbled across a Druid enclave he frantically, but stealthily, searched the corpses for any magical item on hand.

“You little thief,” Gale felt heat prick his ears as Astarion knelt beside him, “are you planning to keep that all for yourself? How naughty of you,” he clicked his tongue as if disappointed.

Gale gritted his teeth and groaned, “The pot calling the kettle a bit black, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps,” he said, grinning. “Whatever would our companions think,” he feigned a pout, tapping his lip. “We all have our secrets, though, don’t we.” And he let the matter drop as you called for them, Astarion miming the lock of his lips and throwing away the key. He grinned and Gale sighed, following behind.

[ilikekidsshows]

I always thought Kuro Neko is before Ephemeral but knowing it's the opposite instead just make it worse. I mean we have ladybug dismissing cat noir twice then, in Ephemeral instead of explaining why she called him to the tower she just goes "oh it's nothing" and in Kuro Neko she also said "ok!" When cat noir told her she should collect his miraculous as well. All after he hadn't been around to help fighting the akuma, means she has twice the chance to actually asked why he had been missing (as any caring friends and responsible leader would do) but never did. Did she forget he's the holder of the miraculous that hawkmoth targeted or what??? Like I get it, she didn't care about him as a person. But she also didnt care about the miraculous that he has?? Is this the greatest guardian that Su han praised about??

---

The writers, and Marinette by extension, don’t care about anything else other than her petty personal problems. Cat Noir going missing and possibly losing his Miraculous to Hawk Moth doesn’t affect whether or not Marinette gets to mack on Adrien (for all she knows), so it’s just not a concern! Just like the world ending and being remade was a happy ending and totally Marinette’s victory, because she got to close the adventure off by finally telling Adrien she loves him. This is the climactic victory of five seasons of adventures, battles and “development”, Marinette delivering the most zero-stakes “I love you” ever, while Adrien is talking over her to say the same thing because he never had a problem with saying it.

Wow, how inspiring. Such good television.

[seattlesellie]

knight!ellie x princess!reader drabble. ♡🗡️🕯️

an: since i’m thinking of writing a full fic of knight ellie x princess reader i wanted to know what you guys think ! let me know if i should turn this into something way longer. just a lil peak of the themes of a longer fic 💗

cw: mature themes, reader is a little lonely, tension.

the moon is so bright, so big, so white, luminous, it reflects in her emerald eyes and renders them almost mystical, bordering on the verge of the unreal. one couldn't help but wonder if she herself was not entirely real, a specter of dreams made flesh. do you recall those distant days of childhood? just eight years old, insisting that your imaginary friend — aurora, was right by your side? you clung to her like a lifeline. you'd shed tears as your mother, the reigning queen, denied the request for an extra place setting, an empty plate reserved for aurora alone. how you fell asleep bawling, tasting salt on your tongue, bitter and sickening, feeling as if you were drowning in your sleep, the specter of aurora growing gaunt and wretched, as though starved for existence.

how you woke up plagued by guilt, tormented by a high fever and a stubborn eye infection, crying and screaming for your imaginary best friend. and how from that day on, the castle fell empty. you wandered around, through those regal halls like a specter, floating like a brittle ghost, nodding politely when a maid curtsied in reverence, offering a feeble smile to the steward as he addressed you as his cherished princess.

you filled your duties, all your royal obligations, attended to your classes, spoke only when spoken to by your parents, ignored when another royal called you a “loony” when catching you in the midst of a conversation with several alabaster rabbits.

you formed a connection with the world around you, a bond that ran far deeper than what met the eye, and now one knew.

you rub on your eyelids with the back of your hand, and blink in dismay — oh, you’ve been mistaken, she is real, and her abdomen rises and falls with each breath, the clang of her armor a testament to her existence, to your sanity. her eyelids flutter, and her throat subtly moves as she swallows. a strand of her auburn hair sways in the wind too, but sweet aurora’s hair also danced in the breeze, so who knows.

sometimes it all is simply too blurry.

for now, you choose to believe.

the grass tickles your bare toes, you don’t laugh.

“hate being a princess” you mutter with a sigh, tilting your head to the side — her side, to see if perhaps she vanished like the rest of them, yet finding her there.

her role as a knight is dictated with silence in your presence, a mere executor of commands from your father with a duty to bow in submission, so she doesn’t respond. all she has to do is be your protector, keep you safe and guarded, make sure you won’t try and run once more.

she’s also not supposed to help you with your clandestine escapades from the castle, she’s not supposed to lay in the tall royal gardens ridiculously green grass with the princess, to allow the opulent and delicate fabric of her dress to gently brush against the barest portion of her knee. yet — she allows it.

she’s not supposed to help you pick flowers and greet you good morning, she was supposed to be unyielding as stone, almost ephemeral yet ever-present.

and now your ankle shifted to rest gently against hers, and she didn’t even nudge you.

“i despise it” you repeat. you try and voice your frustration but it comes off as too soft. ellie typically abhorred anything soft. she’d rather sleep on a hard mattress than a plush one, favored stomping over floating.

and yet you seem to be an exception.

you seem to be an exception for lots of things.

and ellie doesn’t respond. she blinks at the full moon and it blinks back at her.

“do you like being a knight?”

you think you may have heard a breathy chuckle. you’re unsure, you sigh.

“ellie?”

and she never told you her name. you figured it out by yourself.

then she begins, pink tongue folding and moistening her lower lip. “i like being your knight”, she blinks thrice, in a hurry — like she said something wrong, as though she feared she might have offended anyone else whose knight she was not. she takes a deep breath, for some reason it's shaky.

“i like, i- need, to protect the kingdom. it’s my duty. for the sake of your father, the people, you — you know that, my princess”

and usually you’d cringe when addressed with that title. you voiced it already — that title isn’t you, you don’t want it, it felt like a burdensome label imposed or cursed upon your birth, but for some reason, when she says it ; “my princess” it feels like her “my”, is the one that holds the power to cloud your mind. and that’s why you don’t argue that it isn’t your name, because she calls you as hers, and oh how bad you want to be hers.

you overheard the conversations among the other young royals, who spoke in hushed tones about "crushes." you eves dropped and furrowed your brows intently when they talked about the charming sable boy, a dark haired prince from a faraway land, an adviser. they described the feeling of having a crush as if they were “falling”, “giddy”, “thrilled”, “like riding a horse, really really fast”

and it never really happened to you, albeit you really did try. you just accepted it, you’d be crush-less forever, forced to marry a crush-less prince, forced to live a crush-less life.

then you met knight ellie.

it happened when she removed her bascinet, when she casually tossed her tousled auburn locks from side to side, when she smiled that sly smirk then immediately wiped it off and glued her gaze to the stone wall. it was in the way her eyes met yours, her all but graceful bow, and the sound of her armored knee meeting the ground, when she chuckled after winning the battle of who would be the princesses knight. how cocky she looked as her arm was raised in triumph, only to transform into humble grace when officially declared the winner.

but it wasn't a feeling akin to falling; it was more like crashing down. you also didn’t feel giddy, you felt nauseous and tight everywhere, you weren’t thrilled you were petrified, and you didn’t ride a horse really fast — it was more like being thrown off the horse and crashing onto the ground, nose-first.

so it didn’t feel like crushing, it felt like something else. and you really had to go to the washroom.

“you don’t… owe anything to the kingdom, or to my father” you murmur.

she really doesn’t. it got her family starved, killed. “i do” she lies, swallowing thickly. “also, i really don’t need protection” then you lie, rolling your eyes with a huff.

she'd call you a brat if she wasn't your knight, and if she knew for certain that you wouldn't go running to your father after being offended.

“i should run away” you muse, idly toying with the hem of your dress. ellie sees the bare flesh of your thigh and she feels like maybe she shall run away as well. then her breath hitches down her throat, and she really hates it because this isn't the first time. perhaps she's sick, a throat infection. it's getting very hard to breathe.

t'must be the armor, the decides.

then she decided it's not.

it's simply the cold night air. definitely not your naked thigh, or your hunger to be free, or the way your dress flows with the wind, or the way your eyelashes flutter and your fingertips tap tap tap on your plushy lips.

“should i fetch the horse then, my princess? which one d'ya want, charlie... or buster, maybe. he's a strong one” ellie croons then swallows a chuckle.

she’s also not supposed to joke with you. or to stare at your thigh, or to let you place your head on her armored chest.

“yes” you reply like she’s serious.

then a cloud veils the once-bright moon, and your knight clears her throat.

“i should take you to your room, freedom warrior, s’getting late”

“you shall take me to the forest to pick some blackberries, knight”

ellie chuckles and argues back. “i shall not”

“disobeying a royal?” you say with a wink.

you might actually be the death of her.

[yuri-is-online]

And Your Name Is? (Deuce, Azul, and Floyd)

After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, we are back in business bby, these three are by request, next up are Lilia, Jamil, and Grim! Angst with the intent of comfort, if you like this please consider checking out my masterlist for the previous three parts.

Deuce

"Don't go where I can't follow."

Deuce has said that many times before.  He wonders if you thought he didn't mean it or had taken it as a joke, and truly he cannot decide which is worse. He had foolishly thought when he first woke up and saw the school year begin anew that he could relax knowing he wouldn't need to chase you across an ocean into the depths of S.T.Y.X. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy, his memories of you might have been scattered across time and space but he knew with certainty this set back did not surprise him.

"Are you alright?" Trey's concern does not go unappreciated, but Deuce can't really bring himself to respond out loud. "You seem a bit distracted." There are countless wishing stars hung above him in the trees, he wishes he remembered if any of the wishes he heard had been the same. He knows his no longer is.

"Let him be." Idia surprisingly in the flesh, but still draped like a wet cat over the drums. "We can afford to take a break anyway." His seniors move away as Deuce remains staring up at the wishing stars. Yuu is sort of the same color as them now, and just as ephemeral.

"Do you remember this?" The starsender robes don't feel as special anymore, he wants to be proud that he was really meant for this task seeing how time itself has seen fit to make him repeat it. "I only remembered to ask you what your wish was after... I think you passed it off as me being dumb but I don't think that's what happened now. Somehow I knew if I asked you to make a wish what you would say." A gentle breeze sways the little lights above his head as Deuce tries to spot the star Trey had helped him make. "I meant what I said, I want you to see just how cool I'll look in my officer's uniform. I want to make my mom and grandma proud, and I want you to come home and be proud of me with them." Sometimes he swears he can feel your head leaning on his shoulder, your arms embracing him from behind, your voice carried by the breeze drowning out shouts for him to come back to reality and pay attention to his surroundings. There's a legend in Twisted Wonderland about a man that dives into the Underworld to rescue his beloved, you had told him your world has the same story but it has a different ending. Deuce doesn't want to think about that as his hands curl around where yours should be, just over his rapidly beating heart. "I wish," he already has but he swears the star twinkles with magic in response all the same "for Yuu to come home." He squeezes your hand and jumps when he finds purchase, your weight forcing him to stumble forward and crash as he rapidly tries to turn and see your face.

Idia and Trey make noises of surprise, he thinks that they're talking but he can't seem to hear them above the sound of your heavy breaths. "I'm back Deucey." You whisper softly into the evening air.

"Welcome back Yuu." He hopes you never make him let you go again.

Azul

There is a mournful song flowing through this strange cold place you have found yourself. It's familiar, but you swear you have never heard it before, perhaps it is the voice you find yourself stumbling towards and not the music itself.

"There you are." It's pleased with itself this voice. "Come to spend some time with me again?" You don't know, you can't even really tell where you are. It looks like an office, but it is bereft of papers or any light. You feel more than see the desk at the center, the smooth grain of the wood chills your fingertips as you run along looking for something. A sigh rattles the room as you are dragged away, back to the mirror chamber by frighteningly cold darkness and you grope wildly around for the person you thought had been there with you. "Goodnight Yuu. I will see you tomorrow."

"Why can't you see me today?" You swear you speak but you hear no noise. And in the solid space you've left behind Azul leans back against his chair and studies the ceiling above him. He should be pleased. He had a theory and the tattered scraps of paper in his hand would seem to have proved it. Azul should be angry that your state demands such a sacrifice of him, he should be weighing the potential cost of this decision. Of saving you.

But instead he laughs.

"Yuu. Yuu, Yuu, Yuu. I wonder if I ever stood a chance." He knows the answer of course, but he wonders if it is as ingrained in your soul as it is his. ~~~~ "Do you believe in other worlds Yuu?" The voice is asking you a silly question, and you chase after it determined to tease. "And I don't mean like yours, I mean completely other realities where things even mages would find unbelievable exist." You manage to push yourself through the waters and begin to wander the purple and grey hued halls, desperately searching for someone you swear is here, his name on the tip of your tongue. "I admit it's not something I ever thought too much about, but after we got together the first time I would lie awake thinking about it. You and I meeting was never a guarantee, so why did it feel so much like fate? I think I asked you once."

"Don't underestimate me." You can hear yourself now, and the walls around you are coming into more solid focus. There is only one door between you and the person you have been searching for now. "I will find you in every lifetime." Delighted laughter moves towards you now, as the door opens to reveal the outline of a man, shimmering just like you.

"Yes that's exactly what you said." His hand is cold, you reach to catch it worried it will fall through you and almost sob as you both find the familiar sensation of the other's touch. "And I think I said, 'Well that's not threatening at all!' Because in my mind there was no other way for us to meet than as adversaries, but that didn't need to be true did it?" Azul's coat and scarf is slung over the back of his chair, your breath catches in your throat at the unusual sight of Azul in just his tuxedo. He preens under your attention, guiding you carefully towards the couch, hands trembling in equal relief, excitement, and still small fear that this was all a painful dream. The shredded remnants of carefully counted contracts can remain scattered across the desk behind you, yet he finds himself surprisingly unconcerned. He curls himself around you, sighing in content at the return of the warmth of your solid form. "I found you this time." You return his embrace with a half sob, the memory of the here and there cementing itself within your fears alongside the sheer relief of Azul's presence. "If other worlds do exist, if time gets re-set again, even if you are forced to return to where you came from, please don't underestimate me either. We found each other once, and we will in every timeline we exist." He kisses your hand and dares reality to prove him wrong.

Floyd

"Man every day's a party when I'm with you. I can't get enough!" He had really meant it, but he could see the doubts still flickering behind that smile.

"Glad you had fun Floyd."

Had. You were glad he "had" fun not "was having." It was an odd thing to get caught up on, Floyd didn't fully understand why it soured his mood so much himself. There was always this carefully crafted barrier between the two of you, carefully built up by you that he never noticed until it was too late. Until little shrimpy was just Yuu and the nickname became a facade to deny the depth of his emotions.

It was silly to think that he was the only one lying to himself.

"Y'know you can't stay all ghostie like that forever." He tries to poke you, disappointed in how you shimmery form neither disappears nor wavers. "It's not good for your health." Floyd has never had the smoothest of emotions, they tumble around his chest like waves, but he knows them to be consistent. He hates standing in place and doing the same thing over and over, he loves it when people make stupid mistakes and he gets to watch them blow up (sometimes literally) in their face, and he hates how predictable he has been. The jumbled memory of countless looping timelines and never once did he do anything more than maybe chase you around a little and come up with excuses to monopolize your attention. Floyd wants to squeeze himself, that's what this entire situation already feels like anyway. "Say do you know what humans used to say about merfolk?" His mood twitches back to something like happiness as he rolls his head up from lying on the library table up onto his hands. "They thought that when we died we turned into sea foam cause we didn't have souls. Isn't that silly! Say Yuu, which one of us looks like foam now huh?" Floyd hasn't cried since he was a fry, but these past few days he feels like he has done little but cry and sleep. In his dreams he gets to re-write his impossible memories to be a little lighter, he gets to drop the nickname and call out to you and have you cry out to him in return. In his dreams everyday is still a party and not a waking nightmare. Your hand, or maybe he is delusional and has begun to dream yet again, reaches towards him, fighting its foamy nature to try and touch his head.

"I like you." He had said it into your neck while you died that time, still lying to save himself some face in case that was the last thing you wanted to hear. "C'mon dance with me Yuu!" He had tried hyping himself up in his head, all words dying in his throat when he finally spun you away from Crabby and Mackerel calling you shrimpy once again.

"I love you." Why is he only brave enough to say it now when he swears it won't actually matter? "I think I've loved you since the first time ya tricked Azul and then immediately every time I saw you after. So come back yeah? I thought I had all the time in the world but I don't, and I ain't ever gonna be board of having you around..." The foam flickers, and for a brief delusional moment Floyd thinks he sees your proper face. "You know that, right?"

"I love you too." It's watery, he feels the answer somewhere in his soul rather than hears it as you crash under your own weight back into reality and onto the hard wood of the NRC library. His laughter cackles up and out across the whole school as he leaps across and over to catch you up and soothe your bruises with soft kisses, not at all the activity Jade expects to find him engaged in when he follows rather than flees at the noise.

"Mine." He kisses your pulse point and you wonder, not for the first time but with much more joy than sorrow, why it was his hand you were searching for. "My Yuu." Floyd purrs, a dangerous tittering laugh of genuine relief convincing you of his genuineness more than anything else.

If he was going to get bored of you, he would have done it timelines ago.

[hyvyinjie]

JUST LIKE A DREAM.

TW! manga spoilers.

bittersweet! wistful.

t. muichiro x gn. reader.

HE FOUND HIMSELF ENSNARED IN THE RAPTUROUS EMBRACE OF A PLAIN, UNADORNED NOTEBOOK. its pristine pages beckoning him to whisper tantalizing secrets.

seating himself in the seiza style-his limbs folded gracefully—he wielded a quill like a maestro's baton, while his other hand languidly cradled his cheek-a solitary pillar of repose in the vast expanse of contemplation.

with a sigh of resignation, he embarked upon the wondrous dance between ink and parchment.

...hey.

he paused, his countenance adorned with a mask of impassivity, concealing a tempest of thoughts within.

why, he mused, did he feel compelled to extend his greetings to a humble sheet of paper?

yet, a flicker of ephemeral memory flickered through the corridors of his mind—a faint echo that whispered of customs and courtesies, of beginnings and origins.

though he found himself adrift in the enigma of it all, he yielded to the notion that a simple "hello" would serve as the key to unlock the labyrinth of his newfound routine.

anyways..

that butterfly lady gave me this.

i don't know why, she just did.

he blinked, his brows ascending with a subtle grace, as a revelation had alighted upon his consciousness like a silken butterfly.

i don't know why, she just did.

actually, i do.

she gave me this because she said that journaling..

it'd help me with my memories somehow.

if i recall correctly..she told me to write down anything i figured is worth noting, saying it'll help me 'treasure' it or something.

as he neared the culmination of his literary pilgrimage, he sighed yet again, his breath a gentle zephyr that whispered secrets to the dull room.

whatever. it doesn't matter.

the final words dripped like honey from his quill, an offering to the vast expanse of time and oblivion. yet, even as he penned the denouement of his day, a knowing knowledge clung to his intellect—one he had unfortunately grown accustomed to.

i'll forget about this, anyways.

on the contrary—to his own astonishment—he found himself ensnared within the confines of familiarity, as if destiny had conspired to recreate the tableau of days past.

an unexpected sense of accomplishment fluttered within his being, though he nonchalantly brushed it aside, for its allure held no sway over his seemingly impassive demeanor.

wow.

this again.

never thought i'd actually come back to this.

i guess that person was just so weird that i instantly went here subconsciously.

and yet—a query lingered, teasing the fringes of his consciousness.

how did he manage to recall the precise location where this artifact had been bestowed? his gaze faltered, searching the surroundings with an air of detachment, even as his countenance remained stoic and unyielding.

alas, pondering the intricacies of remembrance proved an exercise in futility.

the answer—it seemed—resided in the glorious mist of poorly scrapped away details.

in reality, for—in a moment of abandon-he had actually just left this vessel exposed upon the very table that bore witness to its initial unveiling.

with that profound comprehension nestled in the recesses of his clouded mind, he simply blinked before returning to the task of diligently jotting down the words he had momentarily paused, delicately inscribing the words that had eluded him mere seconds ago—fully aware that they would soon inevitably slip from his memory.

a pensive cloud descended upon his countenance, casting a shadow upon the dainty tapestry of his thoughts.

his brows, like twin sentinels of vexation, furrowed once more, mirroring the tumultuous musings that swirled within the depths of his mind.

speaking of which, what's their deal anyways?

he simultaneously pondered, his memory a fragmented mosaic that teased the edges of his recollection. who exactly was this vexing interloper that had managed to impede upon his path? the tendrils of remembrance danced just beyond his grasp, tantalizingly close yet frustratingly distant.

bothersome brat getting in the way like that.

the realization dawned, an ember of understanding amidst the haze. it seemed that this individual, by the mere virtue of their skills, bore the mark of a fellow demon slayer. though their intentions remained obscured, he acknowledged that their presence, even as an ally, posed an inconvenience.

yet, he couldn't help but acknowledge that the situation would have been far more dire had they been an unsuspecting civilian thrust into the fray.

"had I not intervened, you would've gotten hit instead."

the echo of their words reverberated within his mind like a daunting scene, conjuring a vivid portrait of their visage. a flicker of irritation danced in his eye, an involuntary twitch that betrayed his lingering frustration.

at least that weirdo refrained from whining and coercing me into helping them seek the aid of that butterfly lady.

even still—a veil of perplexity settled upon his thoughts, shrouding his mind in a haze of bewilderment. the actions of that imbecile confounded him, defying all logic and reason. how dare they insinuate that he lacked the agility to evade the blow? and even if he hadn't, was it not just another day, with the ebb and flow of danger an ever-present companion?

furthermore, the question lingered like a specter; why did they possess such fervent concern, enough to willingly absorb the impact intended for him? a cynical frown danced upon his lips, for he harbored a deep-seated suspicion that their motivations were rooted in a desire to don the mantle of heroism.

ordinarily, such trifling matters would have been dismissed with a mere shrug, relegated to the realm of inconsequential distractions.

and yet, that singular event, like a pebble tossed into a still pond, sent ripples coursing through the depths of his being. it stirred a dormant fire within him, kindling a smoldering embers of annoyance that refused to be extinguished.

the enigma of their actions gnawed at his consciousness, an incessant itch that demanded his attention. why did their interference provoke such a visceral reaction? what lay beneath the surface of his irritation? the answers eluded him, concealed in the murk of his own introspection.

eventually, a flicker of relief danced upon his countenance, as if a gentle breeze had brushed away the creases of consternation etched upon his features. for, in this fortuitous moment, salvation arrived in the form of ginko, his loyal companion, his assigned kasugai crow.

entering the room through the open window with a graceful flutter of ebony wings, the avian harbinger announced his imminent departure towards yet another mission, a clarion call that whisked away the tendrils of disquietude that had begun to take hold.

had he been pondering for that long?

he blinked, extending a hand adorned with purposeful gentleness, he bestowed upon ginko a few aimless caresses to the sleek feathers that adorned the crow's head. a momentary respite amidst the chaos, a fleeting connection between two souls bonded by the trials of their shared endeavors.

and then, with a seamless transition, his expression reverted back to its stoic neutrality, a mask of detachment that shielded the depths of his thoughts.

his gaze, once adrift and almost forgotten, refocused upon the near-forgotten notebook that lay before him—its pages, blank with very few words but brimming with the promise of untold tales, unlike before—it now beckoned him with an irresistible allure. who’s to say that this encounter, this outpouring of his thoughts upon its parchment, would be his last? the question lingered, suspended in the air, as if the notebook itself whispered of secrets yet untold.

however—a hint of exasperation tinged his thoughts once more, a testament to the minutes squandered upon this wearisome endeavor. the weight of time wasted settled upon his shoulders like an oppressive burden, threatening to drown him in a sea of regret. had that butterfly lady bestowed this upon him merely as a means to pass the hours in such a pitiful manner?

what’s with everyone pissing him off lately? a disapproving click of his tongue resounded, accompanied by an inward huff of frustration, as if to dismiss such thoughts as inconsequential.

yet, even as he brushed aside the notion, a lingering seed of doubt remained. the origins of this diversion, this seemingly trivial pastime, stirred a restlessness within him. but he swiftly quelled the rising tide of contemplation, for there were matters of greater import to attend to.

with a languid motion, his hand lazily fell back to his side, a symbol of resignation to the inevitability of his next mission.

ginko—ever attentive—observed his movements with unwavering focus through her beady eyes.

as he rose to his feet and walked away without a word, she hastened to follow, a silent guardian ensuring he treaded the correct path this time.

perchance, had he paid greater heed—he would have discerned the inadvertent significance he ascribed to that encounter.

possibly, if he could decipher his emotions amidst the shroud of negativity, he would come to comprehend the profound influence this ostensibly unavailing—or so he perceives it to be—undertaking continues to hold within the recesses of his hazy recollections.

a sense of weariness pervaded his being, his form slouched over the table in an exhausted posture. his arm, draped atop the surface, cradled his lower face in a gesture of weary surrender.

heavy-lidded eyes, devoid of their usual sharpness, stared blankly at the notebook before him, its pages a repository of familiarity and untapped potential.

his restless fingers found solace in the quill, an instrument of creation and expression. yet, instead of purposeful strokes, they engaged in aimless fiddling, a subconscious act of seeking comfort in the familiar. the quill danced between his fingertips, its weight and texture grounding him in the present moment.

as time trickled by, his hand slowly maneuvered with deliberate relaxation.

the quill hovered mere inches above the pristine expanse of the paper, its poised tip a conduit for the thoughts that swirled within his mind. the ink droplets within the quill began to fall, each one a testament to the passage of time and the stillness that enveloped him.

then, with a leisurely descent—the quill found its mark upon the page, leaving behind a trail of ink as he transcribed the words that lingered in his thoughts. beginning another silent conversation between the depths of his mind and the blankness of the paper.

if i had known that i’d be assigned with that idiot on the mission, i wouldn’t have even waited for their arrival.

eh. i guess they were somewhat useful..for baiting the demon.

the words upon the page bore the unmistakable mark of apathy, as if they had been woven with little to no effort. lines connected words haphazardly, yet he remained unperturbed by their disarray.

a mere blink was his response to the warm embrace of the rising sun's rays streaming through the window, causing him to momentarily shield his eyes. his lids fluttered, adjusting to the light.

shifting slightly, he raised his head, casting a glance towards the window. the sight of the morning's arrival beckoned his attention, a gentle reminder of the passing hours that had slipped away unnoticed.

would you look at that... it's morning already, and i haven't even managed a wink of sleep yet.

a yawn escaped his lips, an involuntary reflex brought forth by the weariness that engulfed him.

craning his head to the right, he raised a hand, fingers reaching out to massage the tense muscles at the back of his neck. the physical sensation provided a fleeting respite from the mental strain that weighed upon him.

tearing his gaze away from the luminous frame of light, his attention returned to the page before him.

the letters—now seemingly slid onto the page without care—formed words that appeared smudged or messy. yet, his response was one of detached observation, his eyes trailing along the inked lines as if merely skimming their surface. his mind adrift in a sea of fatigue and contemplation.

a wistful breath escaped his lips, carrying with it a tinge of reflection. to think that in the end, he found himself aiding them, joining forces with those he once regarded with a mix of skepticism and reservation. vague memories of their coordination and shared battles flickered in his mind, a testament to their surprising competence.

irony hung in the air, as he ever-so begrudgingly acknowledged the decency of their skill, granting them the credit they deserved.

but to say that he still harbored a grudge would be an overstatement. time had a way of blurring the sharp edges of resentment, softening the sting of past grievances.

he had moved on—or at least strived to do so—simply because he no longer wished to expend mental energy on such affairs.

of course, the reasoning behind their initial encounter still eluded him. the circumstances that had brought them together remained shrouded in mystery, a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into the larger picture.

yet, despite this lack of understanding, he had chosen to extend his assistance.

it was a matter of reciprocity, an unspoken agreement that demanded the return of the favor. they had aided him, and so he, in turn, had done the same.

but let it be known that his actions were certainly not born out of deliberate intention. it wasn't a calculated decision to seek their gratitude or favor. no, he had been driven solely by his sense of duty, a commitment to vanquish the demon that had threatened their lives. their expressions of gratitude that followed were—in his perception—unwarranted and unnecessary.

don’t get him wrong, it wasn't a matter of rejecting their appreciation out of disdain or arrogance. it was simply a matter of perspective. he saw his actions as obligations fulfilled, his purpose aligned with the task at hand. the gratitude they offered was an unexpected byproduct, an outcome that held little significance in the grand scheme of his mission.

unbeknownst to him—his head gradually dipped lower, a subtle surrender to the weight of exhaustion. his eyes, utterly heavy with weariness, would occasionally flutter open, a futile effort to rouse himself from the encroaching grasp of sleep.

but little did he know, there existed a vast realm of his true intentions beneath the surface of his consciousness, waiting to be explored, waiting to unveil its secrets—a landscape of an undiscovered reality and hidden depths lay dormant, longing to be discovered.

yet, in his current state, he remained oblivious to the elusive wonders that lay within.

oblivious to the possibilities that awaited him, he continued to battle the encroaching embrace of sleep, unaware of the treasures that could be unearthed once he relinquished his conscious hold.

but perhaps, in due time, the mist would lift, and he would come to realize the vastness that lay hidden within, embracing the unknown with open arms and truly delving into the depths, and alas reaching a benevolent understanding of his own subconscious.

soon enough, he found himself absentmindedly twirling a petal between his fingers as he entered the room. his focus remained fixated on the delicate blossom even as his hand closed the door behind him, and even as he made his way towards the mirror.

gradually, he lifted his gaze, his eyes settling on the flower crown adorning his head. the sakura petals, masterfully intertwined, caught his attention, their beauty captivating his senses.

with an almost contemplative look, he then raised the petal he held to eye-level, keenly studying its intricate details.

of all people, who would have thought he'd be adorning something as whimsical as this? it seemed that over time, through some inexplicable force, he had found himself repeatedly crossing paths with an individual he had once deemed a nuisance.

bizzarely, he discovered that he often engaged in small conversations with them—or rather—they spoke while he found himself lost in his own thoughts as usual, staring at the wispy clouds.

however, that habit of his had not lasted long with them.

he recalled a time when he unexpectedly began sparing a not-so discreet glance for the person who stood beside him, whilst internally pursuing his own musings while they carried on with their activities.

perhaps it was because he secretly wished for their presence to vanish? he had made his feelings abundantly clear, even voicing his desire to be rid of them. yet, they stubbornly persisted, undeterred by his dismissive attitude.

and so, he had resigned himself to their constant presence, reluctantly accepting the fact that they would be a part of his daily life.

today, it was he who stumbled upon them—a reversal of their usual encounters.

he couldn't help but note the uncharacteristic silence that enveloped them, a departure from their usual chatter.

enveloped in a realm of heightened intrigue, his inquisitive spirit awakened. his gaze, like a wandering star, was drawn to the focal point that held their rapt fascination.

with an arched ascent, his eyebrows mirrored his amazement. majestically poised, a resplendent tapestry unfolded before him—a bountiful cherry blossom tree, its branches bedecked in resplendent blooms. the sakura petals—akin to balletic maestros—pirouetted gracefully through the air, composing a symphony of ethereal enchantment.

in that instant, he comprehended the rationale behind their entranced stare. the vision of the grand cherry blossom tree, its delicate petals dancing with elegance, possessed an irresistible charm that surpassed his customary indifference. it stood as a tableau of organic marvel, another spectacle capable of evoking a latent response within him, even if he had not fully embraced it until now.

blinking in a manner reminiscent of an owl, he returned to the present moment.

ultilizing both hands, he delicately removed the flower crown from his head. unusually, he handled it with an exceptional tenderness, treating it as though it were a fragile treasure he was determined to preserve with utmost care.

however, inexplicably, he decided to place it adjacent to his notebook. then, his attention shifted back to the petal he had held throughout the entire process, and a subtle downturn of his lips coupled with a slight furrowing of his brows betrayed his disappointment.

the petal appeared slightly crumpled... perhaps he should have focused on it first before removing the crown?

his head instinctively tilted as he contemplated the past. unbeknownst to him, the fact that he was investing such reflection into a... gift—as they had claimed it to be—went entirely unnoticed.

an idea flickered to life within the recesses of his mind, though it may not have been grand in scale.

with a sense of purpose, he resolved to safeguard this newfound notion within the pages of his trusty notebook instead of just noting them down much like the previous, yet now said to be countless of times he did so. it wasn't that he had no intention of exploring the idea further; rather, he held a silly belief that by preserving the delicate petal within its confines, he would be able to summon fragments of today's events whenever he cast his gaze upon it.

it was, undoubtedly, a risky endeavor.

the transience of memory and the fragility of moments made such attempts at preservation inherently uncertain. yet, undeterred by the potential pitfalls, he was determined to give it a try.

there was a spark of hope that momentarily alighted within his ever-so dull eyes as he carefully placed the petal between the pages, allowing it to find its place amidst the inked words and scribbled thoughts.

in his mind, the notebook was like a vessel of recollection, the doorway through which he could access the essence of that particular day.

with each passing glance, he believed he would be transported back to the sights, sounds, and emotions that had colored his experience. it was a belief steeped in a touch of magic, a genuine desire to capture the essence of fleeting moments and keep them alive in some tangible form.

of course, he understood the inherent risk of such an endeavor. memories could be fickle, subject to the passage of time and the distortions of perception—that he knew all too well, yet, he couldn't resist the allure of the notion, the tantalizing prospect of preserving a piece of today's events within the pages of his notebook.

thus, he closed the notebook—sealing the petal within its protective embrace. only time would reveal whether his whimsical idea would bear fruit. but for now, he carried a glimmer of anticipation, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, he had found a way to capture the essence of the present and carry it with him into the future.

one day, on the verge of departing for the swordsmith village, he found himself casting a final glance around his room.

as his eyes scanned the space, they landed upon a particular object resting undisturbed on the table, alongside a vibrant, circular rosy crown. yet, his gaze lingered upon the sight of the flowers, a momentary pause in his preparations.

was there something he was forgetting?

he brushed off the thought, convincing himself that it was nothing of importance.

or was it?

perhaps a faint inkling nagged at the back of his mind, suggesting that there was more to it than he initially believed.

without realizing it—he was drawn across the room, his steps guided by an unseen force.

he found himself crouching down near the designated area, his hand reaching out to flip through the pages of his notebook. however, his action was halted as his eyes caught sight of a roseate petal nestled within the notebook's pages.

curiosity sparked within him, and he raised an eyebrow as he gingerly plucked the petal from its sanctuary. absentmindedly, he twirled it between his fingers, a gesture that felt oddly familiar, inducing a sense of déjà vu.

but where had he witnessed such a scene before?

as he pondered, a realization dawned upon him. It wasn't a memory of witnessing someone else engage in this action; rather, it was he himself who had performed it.

a surge of recollection washed over him, memories resurfacing from the depths of his mind. the twirling of the petal, the sensation between his fingertips—these were gestures he had made before, though their significance had slipped from his conscious grasp.

In that singular moment, the forgotten fragments of his own past intertwined with the present, weaving together a tapestry of connections that transcended time.

recognition dawned upon him with a sudden clarity. it was from that day—the day where a sensation so tender and poignant stirred within him, almost like a bittersweet ache, evoking a warmth that eluded his understanding, leaving him unable to grasp its true essence.

the memory resurfaced, vivid and potent, as he held the petal in his hand. it was a symbol—a relic that carried the weight of a significant moment, a moment that had shaped him in ways he had yet to fully comprehend.

as his gaze shifted between the delicate petal and the floral circlet, he couldn't help but acknowledge their significance. they were gifts, given to him by that same person whose presence had once been a source of annoyance, but had since become intertwined with his life in ways he never anticipated.

a subtle flicker of a smile danced across his features, fleeting yet unmistakable.

it was a ghost of a smile, evoking a sense of warmth and nostalgia. just like that very same day, beneath the sakura tree.

after a few more contemplative moments, he gently placed the petal back within the pages of his notebook. it was an act imbued with a renewed sense of curiosity and introspection.

as he carefully tucked it away, he recognized that this petal held more than just a fragment of his present—it also served as a tether to his past.

standing up, he straightened his attire, smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed during his moment of reflection.

leaving the room behind, he stepped forward, his footsteps carrying him away from the familiar and towards the villa—yet, as he ventured forth, he carried with him the knowledge that within the depths of his own experiences, there were secrets waiting to be unveiled. these hidden truths, veiled within the recesses of his own identity, held the potential to guide him closer to understanding who he truly was.

muichiro’s brows knit together, his eyes narrowing slightly as he winced, perusing the passages he had penned not long ago—but in that period, he found himself at the nadir of his existence, akin to a vessel housing an empty soul, where the flicker of life seemed to wane within him.

immersed in the depths of his own written words, a wave of self-critique washed over him. the realization of his perceived deficiencies bore down heavily upon his psyche.

was my prose truly so lackluster?

his countenance contorted into a visage of melancholic discontent. he couldn't help but introspect on his conduct and acknowledge the impoliteness he had exhibited. it pained him to recognize the echoes of his late twin brother within himself, bearing the burden of both his loss, and their shared flaws.

a tinge of remorse lingered as he ran a hand through his hair, grappling with the repercussions of his actions.

yet, amidst the remorse, his spirits gradually ascended as he reminisced on a separate recollection—the instant when he emerged from his coma, their unwavering presence by his side.

that memory bestowed a glimmer of solace, softening his somber expression. they had been dumbfounded, incapable of containing their emotions upon witnessing his awakening.

in that fleeting moment, they had clung to him fervently, as if he were their vital lifeline. though their embrace—much to his dismay—had swiftly slackened upon realizing his frailty, the impact of their initial response eternally etched in his consciousness.

reflecting upon that juncture, a smile graced his lips. he held no remorse for his instinctive reaction to embrace them, despite his own corporeal anguish.

a gentle flush tinged his cheeks as he sensed that familiar flutter in his heart, impelling him to tilt his head inquisitively.

“that feeling again...” he mused—this time, aloud—as he rose a hand to the region where his heartbeat, almost amplifying with its errancies—resided. his gaze descended, fixated upon that enigmatic yet captivating feeling. curiously pirouetted in his eyes, a pure and guileless yearning for comprehension.

he contemplated the prospect of unraveling the enigma at the butterfly mansion, where he might unearth the veracity behind this inexplicable sensation.

maybe, it was naught but a lingering malady, an unseen affliction that had eluded his awareness. he mulled over the displeasing notion, recognizing the imperative to illuminate the puzzle that lay dormant within him.

little did he fathom the profundity of what lay ahead, the intricate tapestry of emotions and connections that awaited him.

if only he comprehended the significance of that flutter in his heart, the profound impact it would wield upon his odyssey.

several weeks had elapsed, and once more he found himself clutching his notebook, as if it were an extension of his being.

resting against the wall, he clasped the item firmly in his grasp, his gaze wandering towards the window as he settled into a seated position. with his knees drawn up to his chest, they formed an improvised tabletop, providing a stable surface for him to write on.

the room was bathed in the spill of moonlight, bestowing upon it a tranquil luminescence that infused the scene with ethereal allure. positioned at the precipice of the empty page, his quill poised like a delicate dancer, he sensed a surge of anticipation welling within him.

it had been a while since he had last visited the notebook, let alone written in it.

initially, this realization held a tinge of sadness. however, he began to view it as a form of success—a testament to his growth and progress—he no longer needed the notebook as a vessel for his memories, as he had learned to hold them within himself without the fear of them dispersing from his mind.

although he had been reluctant to let go of the notebook in the beginning, fearing that he would regress to his former self, he gradually grew accustomed to relying less on its pages. this change was thanks to a certain someone who had provided him with remarkable encouragement and support along the way.

speaking of that someone..

a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he reminisced about the unfolding events.

at long last, he had mustered the courage to convey his heartfelt gratitude to them for rescuing him on that fateful day of their initial encounter. in retrospect, he finally recognized how his own negativity had obscured the fact that his concern and guilt had driven his actions, leading to harm befalling their well-being.

with the weight of unexpressed appreciation lifted from his shoulders, a profound sense of contentment and relief settled within him.

it felt really good.

and relieving too. i’m glad to finally be able to appreciate them properly now.

the words resonated within him, echoing the profound impact this newfound expression of gratitude had on his relationship with them as he lowered his quill onto the waiting page, he began to write, capturing the essence of his gratitude in ink. the words flowed freely, a testament to his newfound ability to express his appreciation and to cherish the moments that had led him to this point.

in that quiet room, with the moon as his witness, he continued to write, allowing his emotions to spill onto the pages, creating a tangible record of his gratitude and the growth he had achieved.

naturally, he expressed his gratitude to shinobu as well, for she was the catalyst that set the entire endeavor in motion.

however, he couldn't deny that his experience with that particular individual had left a deeper impact on him, resonating within his being in a way that he couldn't easily dismiss.

we made origami today.

was if their first time? i wouldn’t believe it at all if they said yes, they did amazing.

the corners of his mouth lifted even further, a radiant smile spreading across his face. pride swelled within his chest as he reminisced about the moment when he, much like they had done beneath the sakura tree during the day—left his creations with them as a souvenir—a heartfelt gift.

his eyes fluttered, lids half-lowered, as his smile softened. the memory of their laughter resonated in his ears, a joyful sound that echoed through his mind. it was a honeyed melody, harmonious and timeless, etched into his memories like a cherished tune he would never grow tired of.

in that moment, he felt a deep sense of connection and shared happiness. the blossoming of their laughter and their appreciation had filled him with a profound sense of fulfillment.

i made them laugh, their smile truly is adorable.

i want them to stay happy.

an undeniably childish wish.

..i wanna be the reason they do.

a selfish, yet reasonable desire.

i could just say it outright, but...

his thoughts trailed off, contemplating the words he longed to express.

his heart swelled with a mixture of emotions, and yet, there was a hesitancy that held him back. the idea of openly conveying his yearning to be their source of joy brought forth an inexplicable feeling, a blend of anticipation and seldom vulnerability.

with a heavy sigh, he leaned his head back, seeking a moment of respite.

however, to his dismay—he misjudged the distance and inadvertently hit the wall with more force than intended. the impact elicited a wince and a deadpan expression as a wave of discomfort washed over him.

“ouch..”

rubbing the back of his head with his free hand, he closed one eye, gritting his teeth in response to the pain. regret filled his thoughts as he berated himself for not considering the consequences of his actions.

"just why didn't I take that into consideration?" he muttered, a tinge of frustration evident in his mellow voice.

it was a momentary lapse, a reminder of the fallibility that resided within him. the physical discomfort mirrored the emotional unease he felt, a reminder that expressing his feelings came with its own set of risks and uncertainties.

no, he had abandoned his initial notion of visiting the butterfly mansion to have his ‘condition’ assessed. as due to being one of the hashiras, it was now his duty to train the lower-ranked individuals, aiming to help them awaken their own marks while enhancing their abilities.

in essence, he found himself devoid of the time needed to pursue his plan. although it was indeed a missed opportunity, he chose not to dwell on it excessively.

besides, none of his attributes seemed to have weakened, so he simply disregarded the occasional peculiar sensation blooming in his chest whenever thoughts of them arose, dismissing it as a mere figment of his imagination—a hallucination.

he let out a resigned breath, a sense of acceptance washing over him. his hand fell back to his side, but as he blinked, his gaze followed a petal as it slipped out of his notebook's grasp, gracefully descending onto the floor beside him.

his mouth formed a small "o" of surprise, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. he blinked thrice, processing the unexpected turn of events. however, his features soon softened, morphing into a tender expression as he retrieved the fallen petal.

solicitously cradling the delicate leaf between his fingers, he twirled it once more, marveling at its beauty. the petal really did hold a certain allure, captivating his attention and stirring memories within him.

"it’s as beautiful as i remember..” he whispered softly, a touch of nostalgia coloring his voice. in that simple petal, he found a reflection of past beauty, a reminder of moments that had touched his soul.

as he held the petal, he couldn't help but reflect on the transient nature of beauty and the fleeting nature of time. just like the petal, moments of beauty come and go, leaving only memories behind. yet, in that fleeting beauty, there is a sense of profound appreciation and wonder.

while the world could be cruel, he yearned to bask in the fragments of ephemeral glory and find joy in the fleeting moments. he’s now understood that life was a continuous stream of passing experiences, and he made a conscious effort to cherish each and every memory that crossed his path.

in the midst of this realization, an idea sparked in his mind—a realization that he had never written about the day beneath the sakura tree.

how had he overlooked such a profound and cherished memory?

a surge of exhilaration and eager anticipation flowed through him as he envisioned immortalizing that extraordinary day within the sacred confines of his notebook. the memory, a veritable trove of exquisite beauty, served as a poignant emblem of life's fleeting nature and the timeless significance of shared experiences.

with a determined resolve, he opened the notebook to a fresh page, his quill poised to bring the memory to life through ink. the sakura tree, with its delicate blossoms fluttering in the breeze, held a significant place in his heart. it was a sanctuary of beauty, a haven where he had experienced a profound connection with another soul—with them.

….

as the final words pirouetted gracefully upon the page, he tenderly closed his eyes, his velvety lashes caressing his cheek in a delicate dance. in this ephemeral interlude, he granted himself a stolen breath, a cherished opportunity to savor the essence of the memory once more. the day spent beneath the resplendent sakura tree had been etched with profound artistry upon the sanctums of his heart, and now, like a cherished relic, it had found its eternal dwelling within the cradle of his notebook's pages.

a contented smile graced his visage as he delicately sealed the notebook shut, its once blank canvases now adorned with fragments of his existence—a treasury of treasured recollections.

on that day, they looked exactly like a dream—all i’ve wanted, all i’ve ever needed.

the parchment succumbed to the deluge of your cascading tears, becoming drenched and sodden, as if thirstily drinking in the sorrow that overflowed from your heart. with a poignant gaze, you traversed the final passage, each word a painful reminder of the bittersweet victory that had come at the cost of his absence.

weariness weighed heavily upon your eyes, threatening to seal them shut, yearning for respite from the harsh grip of reality. your trembling lips contorted, caught in a delicate dance between joy and sorrow, forming a wistful smile that held the essence of longing. in the sanctuary of your other hand, cradled with tender reverence, lay the very petal you had once bestowed upon him. under the caress of the sun's gentle rays, it gleamed like an iridescent gem, casting a luminous glow that illuminated your tears, turning them into shimmering crystals of anguish.

geto, one of the many sentinel who had witnessed the entwined trial of your beloved and tanjiro, could offer naught but a humble bow, his head lowered in utmost deference. he understood the futility of his desire to provide solace through an embrace, recognizing the unfathomable depths of the pain that gripped your soul. as you clung tightly to the notebook he had dutifully delivered, he stood as a silent witness to your inconsolable sorrow.

in the realm of young love, tragedy often unfolds with a poetic grace.

like a tapestry woven from wisps of a dream, your intertwined forms swayed in the breeze, as if caught in the ethereal embrace of destiny. and as the wind whispered its gentle secrets through the tendrils of your existence, the memory, forever enshrined, would reside as an indelible impression within the chambers of your collective memories, transcending the boundaries of time and spanning an unfathomable infinity.

[ateez-himari]

FASHION WEEK; HIGHLIGHTS

"I can be all the things you told me not to be"

MILAN; VERSACE

• The vocalist recognized the journalist that had made tasteless and uncomfortable comments suggesting she was only in ATEEZ because of her appearance in 2021, continuing to throw sly comments into articles since then. When their manager began motioning him over for the common short interviews, she reminded him that he had been blacklisted from events for years - he was also the only one who she did not bow her head to as a greeting.

• When both ambassadors stepped out of the car together, the large crowd that had been gathered for hours flickered with bright flashes almost instantly whilst he extended a hand in order to help stabilize her.

• During the showcase of 'Ephemeral' the vocalist sat down on a white cushion to play the Koto - the national instrument of Japan - in order to accompany the music composed with different Korean instruments, representing her identity perfectly.

• To close off this impressive debut the runway welcomed the artist dressed in flowing light pink fabric adorned with golden details, displaying the very last design of her collection while she thanked the audience. Himari then bowed before the house's artistic director who in response mouthed the word 'Bellissima' and cued for attendees to toss red peonies towards her ambassador, a flower representing prosperity and good fortune in Korean culture.

• San attempted to hide that he was wiping away tears at the sight of their maknae accomplishing one of her dreams right in front of their eyes yet could not conceal his emotions when engulfing her in a tight hug.

• Once the show had concluded, Himari left her bandmates' sides to search the room for someone and hurried over to embrace the house's artistic director, who returned the hug warmly before placing a specially prepared tiara on her ambassador's head. Fans have compared their interaction to an aunt with her favorite niece due to the way Donatella seemed so attentive to her at all times, meanwhile the idol would hold her hand while being introduced to guests and the two were even seen gossiping at some point before the show began.

Afterparty;

• YouTuber Isaac M.I.K taught her how to do the South African dance move 'Tshwala Bam' over which they bonded very quickly before the vocalist in turns taught him the 'Work' challenge which was later released on the ATEEZ TikTok account. He now follows her personal Instagram account.

• In footage posted by guests, she could be seen visibly tipsy while whispering something into Mingi's ear, before pulling away biting her lip with flushed cheeks making shiny doe eyes even more noticeable as she gazed up at him. Whatever was exchanged between them made the rapper tighten his hold on her waist as he left a kiss on her neck. This clip rapidly made the rounds through social media with the unreleased song 'Come Through' by The Weeknd used as the background.

• Throughout the night, Gigi Hadid was seen dancing with her and later on posted several stories containing endless pictures of the two clearly forming some kind of friendship. The poses were different from what is usually seen from female idols but this allowed netizens a look into her more relaxed personality, dimming the cuteness shown during fan interactions to make way for natural charm.

• Madonna asked San for her Instagram handle during the Dolce & Gabbana afterparty the following day, and posted about the Ephemeral Collection with the caption; "What can't this girl do ?"

PARIS; BALMAIN

• The vocalist seemed overwhelmed with the loud sounds created by the crowd as both artists signed autographs, so Hongjoong discreetly reached over before lowering the volume on her hearing aid.

• Upon meeting his ambassador's youngest member for the first time, Olivier Rousteing let out an audible squeal and noted that both seemed to fit the other perfectly in terms of visuals. Some journalists present during the interaction even managed to catch him joking about wanting to steal Versace's Princess for his own fashion house.

• Dove Cameron cheerfully greeted the idol with a warm embrace along with seemingly endless compliments about her beauty when the show was being prepared. An entire camera roll long photoshoot ensued which was then posted on both of their social media accounts with captions conveying affection for the other, and both were seen giggling whilst sitting next to one another.

• Throughout the event the maknae seemed much calmer in the presence of their group's captain and sparked conversations with numerous high profile attendees, although this happened only when he stood at her side. Much like during their debut years, there were several pictures of her holding on to Hongjoong's sleeve while walking around.

• When came time to leave, Mingi stepped out of the car waiting for the bandmates in order to help his girlfriend inside with one hand under her own while the other guided her by the waist. Their manager could be seen standing aside smiling to himself, though trying to hide it, much like their captain.

Extra;

• While the members currently present in the city were taking a stroll, they ran into the vocalist's friend of three years, SEVENTEEN leader S.Coups, who immediately chastised her for having time to travel throughout countries yet none to stop by their studio despite having a keycard to the HYBE building.

• The Paris Saint-Germain Football Club invited their player's younger sister to the game against Rennes and despite having been apart only since Chuseok, the siblings ran up to one another as if it had been years once it was over. Since most players present had never before met her, Hanzo excitedly rambled on about nearly every accomplishment while the embarrassment flushed her cheeks with every passing moment.

[hyunjinspark]

star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 15

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him.

there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.

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

warnings: cursing, mature content, fancy drinking, mutual pining, sexual tension, so much angst, kissing, making out, dirty talk, fingering, grinding, dry humping, dom!hyunjin, jealousy, more angst

word count: 35K (ik the wc makes it feel v long but it’s really not that much haha)

a/n: im so excited to be coming back with this huge of a chapter for you guys. so much goes down and im insanely excited to share this next phase of my story with you. its v long so pls get comfortable with a blanket and snacks. I would recommend rereading the last chapter, if you can! thank you for still being here.

i recommend that you can listen to my star lost playlist here!

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

masterlist

He had fucked up. Even in the dimly lit drive-in theatre, the guilt on his face was evident. Hyunjin had never looked this devastated.

“I need to talk to you” 

That’s what he had said. The gnawing feeling in your gut got worse. Those words together, in that order, was never a good sign. You knew as much, and you knew whatever he had to tell you was going to be something bad.

“Why did you leave in the middle of the film?” You asked, gaze darting between him and your friends.

Yuqi was staring wide-eyed, watching this unfold, soda cup clutched in her hands, and Felix…he looked beyond irritated.

The movie could still be heard all the way over here. You weren’t too far from the projection screen, and the speakers were right next to you. It was a horrible place to be having this conversation, but you couldn’t wait. 

What was he holding back?

You’d always felt the safest around Hyunjin, but every breath between you right now was uncertain. He was fidgeting, sliding the silver ring off and on his finger.

“I was on my way back to you when—” Hyunjin paused, and the veins in his neck were prominent as he strained to be heard over the movie, “—when Felix found me. He wanted to talk”

“Is Jisung okay?” You blurted, the first thing that came to your mind. He was nervous as hell, and that freaked you out.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, “No, he’s okay”

“Look. Y/N—“ Felix started, stepping ahead.

“Can I please just talk to Y/N…alone?” Hyunjin interrupted, turning to your friends. His frustration was new to you.

“Of course. Now you wanna talk to her” Felix scoffed, and your gaze drifted to him. You felt so out of the loop and everything was far too dramatic.

A laugh escaped you at the absurdity of this situation, “What is going on? You guys are acting like the world’s fucking ending or something”

“I’m sure it’s not that serious” Yuqi piped in, as a way to comfort you, and Felix glanced at her in disdain.

Hyunjin seemed to be physically struggling between appeasing you and Felix, but he focused his gaze on you.

“It’s not” He reaffirmed, pausing to breathe, “Obviously. It’s not… that serious”

“You sure?” Felix mumbled, taunting the situation, and you’d never known Felix to be the one to poke a bear with a stick. 

His presence only added to your confusion and annoyance. 

What was he doing here? 

Hadn’t he just told you he couldn’t be friends with you anymore? Or whatever the hell he was going to say before you were interrupted?

You glanced at him, and the anger from your previous unresolved conversation surged back, “Lix. Can you just give us a moment alone, please?”

His eyes locked with yours in silent agreement, “Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want, Y/N”

“Yeonjun’s gonna be worried as hell about us” Yuqi spoke in a harsh whisper, grabbing him lightly by the forearm to lead him away, and even though you were embarrassed to have an audience, you were glad she was here.

You’d dragged everyone to the drive-in theatre tonight for the Jaws screening because it had seemed, at the moment, like a good idea. It was supposed to be one of the things on your bucket list. The list Hyunjin and you had made together.

A list of things to make you fall in love with your little town again, and you were only doing all of this because Hyunjin insisted. A silly excuse to be by his side, but it had worked. You’d seen the film they were playing tonight a dozen times, so yeah, you were only doing this so you could spend more time with him. 

Right now though, it didn’t seem like the greatest idea, and more like the culmination of a really bad plan. 

A confrontation you didn’t want. 

Knowing Hyunjin, he hated confrontations too. 

So, there must be a really fucking good reason why he was arguing with your best friend just now.

Felix mumbled something as they walked away, too quiet for you to catch amongst the sounds of the film. 

A cold breeze picked up.

The blinking yellow sign above you was malfunctioning, a buzzing sound escaping it, distracting you momentarily until Hyunjin’s face came into focus again.

He was so apprehensive, a concerned frown on his face. Guilty was not a good look on him.

You swallowed your anxieties, raising your voice louder, “Can you just please tell me what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out here”

“Nothing is going on like that, I promise. It’s just…Yongbok found something out and freaked out about it. He was upset at me but—”

“What did he find out?” You were impatient.

Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut, and sighed, “He saw me earlier…at the station”

It took you a second to put two and two together.

“The train station…? What were you doing there?”

His eyes darted around the driveway, realising that this was probably the worst place to be having any kind of conversation. The noise of the horror film had drowned the two of you out.

“Can we go somewhere else? Where it’s quieter, please?” 

You didn’t think you had the patience. Your stomach turned every second that he didn’t tell you what was wrong. 

“Please?” He asked again, “I’ll tell you everything. I just want to get away from here”

What was so complex that he couldn’t just say it now?

It felt like a break-up except you and him weren’t even fucking dating.

Your gaze flickered over his face, frown lines on his forehead that didn’t suit him, and it was only now that you noticed the bags under his eyes. He hadn’t slept last night. He was too young to be so worried.

“Yeah, of course”

There was relief on his face at your agreement, shoulders relaxing, and he looked around.

The theater was in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Where would you even go?

Worry returned to his face, and you sighed, “There’s a loading dock, like a few minutes from here. It’ll be quieter there”

He nodded, following closely behind you as you led the way. 

You focused on the sound of your footsteps in the dirt to not completely freak out.

“Is everything with Chan fine?” You ended up asking.

“Yeah, he’s fine too” He fell quiet again, “I’m sorry you’re missing the movie because of me”

The noises got muffled as you moved further away.

“I really don’t care” You told him, “I’ve seen it before”

“Oh, okay”

You stopped at a chain-link fence, leading to a loading dock for various trucks and vans. It was dead right now, but it'd be brimming with life in the early hours of the day. 

“This is quiet enough”

This was also as far as your patience could go.

Hyunjin nodded, leaning his weight against the fence, running a hand through his hair, “I guess”

Another round of screams from the audience echoed through the area, and you shrugged, “Guess not”

He didn’t seem amused though, “They’re so loud”

“It is the best part of the movie” You told him, “They finally defeat the shark”

Hyunjin nodded, as if he’d forgotten what the movie Jaws was even about, “Right”

He looked like a wounded animal, afraid you’d get mad at him, but you didn’t even understand what you should be mad about. 

His hand peeked out from under his button-up sleeve. You reached forward, not thinking before slipping your fingers between his.

The gesture surprised him, and he glanced up at you with big eyes. He squeezed your hand, finding comfort in it.

“I was buying a ticket back”

You frowned, asking a question you already knew the answer to, “Back to?”

His breaths were shallow, in uneven intervals and his shoulders rose and fell with each anxious inhale and exhale. 

“Seoul” He clarified, biting his bottom lip. 

“Oh. Isn’t…it too early?” 

His gaze fell, eyes avoiding yours, “I was trying to tell you earlier, but I didn’t get the chance”

“Tell me now” You tilt his head up, fingers under his chin so he could look right at you.

He took in another deep breath, eyes staring into yours, “I…have to leave, Y/N. I have to move back to the city”

The words didn’t shock you.

That’s it?

You knew he had to leave. 

A weight lift off your chest at the familiarity of his confession, and you could breathe again, “Yeah. I…know that, Hyunjin”

His eyes widened, “You do?”

Your fingers settled on his jaw, to calm him, “I mean, I know that you can’t stay here forever. You were only here for the summer anyway”

Relief swirled his eyes at your calmness, “Um…yeah”

It felt anticlimactic. This was why he was so nervous, why Felix was so mad, why they were fighting?

You two stood so close, hand-in-hand, and this didn’t even seem like a big deal. Hyunjin wasn’t going to be holed up in this small town forever. Everybody knew it would always be temporary, so what was the drama for?

A breeze blew Hyunjin’s hair in his face, and you tucked the chestnut strands behind his ear, “Would you have to start packing soon?”

With that question, Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed again, “I already packed, Y/N”

“Already?” You laughed, there was a whole month left but he was already preparing, “You should’ve told me…I could’ve helped you.”

He frowned, and suddenly your name on his lips felt bitter, “Y/N…” 

Like it took effort to say, and like it broke his heart.

It felt like an apology, but you didn’t know what for.

You squeezed his hand, to let him know he had nothing to be sorry for, “Tell me…”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m — I’m not staying for the rest of the summer anymore”

Your heart squeezed, and suddenly you realised why he was so anxious. 

You needed confirmation, “You’re not?”

“I need to leave” He let out a breath, “Tonight.”

The words hit you like a punch to your gut.

Hyunjin explained further, to make sure you understood, but your head was already spinning, “My train leaves for Seoul… in a few hours” 

Your grip on his hand dropped, and you stopped touching him.

He stared at you for what felt like forever, eyes flickering between yours, “I’m sorry”

He’s sorry?

You had trouble speaking the words, “What? Tonight?”

His eyes were wide at your reaction, and at your tone. He thought you didn’t believe him.

And you didn’t.

Tonight was so soon, and in a few hours was fucking insane.

As you processed his words, the silence stretched for seconds, excruciatingly long.

He felt a stupid need to fill in the void, “My manager’s coming to pick me up. He doesn’t want me to make the journey back alone. He’s worried about a crowd at the station, in case the information leaked—”

Hyunjin kept talking, and explaining, but you’d stopped listening.

What the fuck was he even saying?

All of these technicalities.

You couldn’t even still process what he’d told you.

Yeah, you knew he had to leave but you didn’t think it’d be tonight. 

You didn’t think it’d be right now.

You weren’t prepared.

Each word he spoke was a lightning bolt to your heart, ripping chasms open in the perfect day you’d just had. 

It couldn’t be. You had so much planned with him. You hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

The sky lit up in bright white, blinding you.

You hadn’t even told him that you loved him...

The wind picked up, dust blowing into your eyes but you didn’t care. The lightning wasn’t just within you. There was a storm coming.

Hyunjin glanced up at the sky; dark clouds suddenly looming over you, but that was the least of your worries. 

“We should get inside” He realised, reaching for your hand, but you stepped away from him, pulling your hand out of reach.

His eyes were wide at the rejection.

“I’m sorry. You said that you’re leaving in a few hours?” You asked again, hoping this was just a horrible fucking joke, and you heard him wrong.

But he fucking nodded, not saying anything. 

Your stomach was beginning to hurt, a shooting pain through your body, and you felt dizzy.

Bile rose up to your throat at the suddenness of everything, “I don’t understand. You said you didn’t have to go back, not until the end of summer and—”

“I know” He interrupted, “I know that’s what I said, but things changed. The company needs me back, I don’t have much of a choice”

“But what about Kkami…and about the art classes?” Stupid questions, when all you wanted to ask was something else. 

“I canceled the classes yesterday, and Minho said he’ll look after Kkami until my aunt comes back to town”

Of course.

“Oh”

Of course he’d figured everything out. A man as precise as Hyunjin, of course he’d already solved for all the problems you couldn’t even foresee.

But what about you?

Your gaze fell from his, heart falling deep into your gut and maybe that explained the pain in you. You didn’t even know what to say. It was so much information, to process all at once, and pathetically, you mumbled, “I thought I’d have more time with you”

“I know, Y/N. I...thought so too” His voice was too soft, too calm, “But I’m sorry that we don’t”

Was he not affected by this? Why was he so calm?

In a few hours, he would be more than a hundred miles away from you.

That wasn’t okay.

But he seemed perfectly fine right now.

How long had he known this?

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before” He swallowed, and stepped closer. His hands glided up your arms, coming to rest at your shoulders. He squeezed the skin there, and maybe he thought it was comforting, but it just felt suffocating.

Your chest was pounding so hard you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

You were still confused, so many questions in your head, “But that doesn’t explain why Felix was fighting with you”

Hyunjin sighed, “He…he thought that I wasn’t going to tell you”

There it was.

Your eyes narrowed, darting up to his, a new fear sinking into you, something you hadn’t even considered, “Wait. Were you not?”

His eyes widened, but his voice gave him away, “No. I was going to—”

You took another step back, and he dropped his hands from you.

“You weren’t even going to say goodbye, Hyunjin?”

He hesitated before speaking, “I was”

“When?”

“What?”

“When were you going to tell me? If you’ve already bought a ticket. You’ve already cancelled the classes. You’ve…packed everything. You’ve already given Kkami away. So, when…were you going to tell me?”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

And it was enough.

“You’re fucking kidding me”

“Let me explain, please--”

Another flash lit up the sky.

Thunder ripped through the atmosphere, and the sound startled you both, making you look up.

It wasn’t raining, not yet, but it would soon.

Immediately, you heard scrambling over at the drive-in theatre. All of the people would be exposed to the rain, and now they’d have to pack it up, and leave.

How fitting for a storm to pass through right fucking now.

You looked back at him, because this wasn’t like him.

The Hyunjin you’d come to know…would never blindside you like this.

You stepped further away, your sneakers tripping over the dirt and Hyunjin reached out to steady you, but you ripped your arm back, “You were just going to leave”

“I tried telling you yesterday, in the forest! You were the first person I was going to tell” Hyunjin exclaimed, eyes wide in what you could only recognise as despair.

In the forest, when you’d taken him to see the fireflies. Hyunjin had said he wanted to tell you something. He was trying to tell you this?

Sourness developed in your mouth, “What? Yesterday?”

“But you stopped me. You kissed me, and you said you didn’t want to know”

Your sadness was suddenly replaced by embarrassment, and bitterness.

“So…it’s my fault?”

“What? Of course not. That’s not what I’m saying”

Your emotions were toppling over, and you couldn’t manoeuvre them anymore.

You felt a surge of hopelessness, because he didn’t understand how important this was to you.

How important he was.

“If it was so important, you should have told me anyway! I obviously would have understood, and stopped kissing you. I’m not that dense, or …needy”

Hyunjin’s eyes were wide, like he couldn’t believe you.

“I know that you’re not. Of course, you’re not” He repeated, stepping towards you, “I knew how upset it would make you, and I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t want to ruin the time we had left”

There was no justifiable reason for you to be this sad. He was only going to be a few hours away from here, but you’d dreaded the day he’d leave ever since you met him.

His life in the city was a whirlwind, and he didn’t have time for anything.

How would you ever stay in his life, or keep him in yours?

Your voice was shaky, “I’m not upset at you, Hyunjin”

“Really? Because it looks like you hate me right now” He laughed.

You sighed, looking him in the eye, “Of course not”

“I just don’t understand why I’m the last to know. You said that your manager is coming to pick you up…and you’re worried the information would leak. So does everybody know you’re coming back or something?”

He nodded slightly, as if his answer would hurt you, “The media knows. There’s going to be a crowd at the station, in the city when I get back”

So if you waited a few more hours…the morning papers would have told you anyway.

The thought almost made you want to laugh, or cry.

“We were having such a good time, at the Creek, and…I didn’t want to kill the mood, obviously I was right, because you’re so upset right now”

“Right. I’m sorry for being upset that you’re leaving Hyunjin”

He pulled you towards him, “Stop, please. This is…not how I wanted tonight to go”

“Then how did you want it to go?”

“I wanted to…stay up with you, and talk to you, and listen to you...until I can”

It sounded tempting. You’d do anything to have that.

But he was leaving tonight.

“Do you know when you’ll come back?”

“What?”

“To Daejon. Do you know when you’ll come back?”

He hesitated, “I don’t know. A couple of years, maybe then…”

“So after tonight…you have no idea when we’ll see each other again?”

“Yeah, but…you can visit me in Seoul, right?” He asked, a hopeful lilt to his tone.

Your head was still spinning, “Were you going to stay in touch with me?”

“Yeah. I was going to give you my new number—”

“Your new number?” You were confused.

“I have to change it…every few months. For safety”

Another lightning flash lit up his face, and then the first drops of rain followed. They wet your hair, dripping down your face, masquerading as tears.

“Yeonjun would be wondering where I am”

“What?” Hyunjin asked, but you needed to fixate on something else or you’d go insane.

“I have to tell him” You mumbled, more to yourself, reaching for your phone in your back pocket, but you’d left it back in the truck. A frustrated groan escaped you.

“I can tell him” Hyunjin spoke, immediately, pulling his phone out to text him. You watched as he did so. The bright phone lit up his face, as he typed in a text, but from here, you could see his fingers trembling.

The vendors were rushing to close all the food shops before the rain came in. The sound of people scrambling with their blankets and snacks to get inside. Car doors being shut, and engines being started.

“Please just let me explain, so you can understand what’s going on in my head”

You needed to calm down. This was always going to happen, and you shouldn’t be surprised. You shouldn’t be heartbroken and so fucking weak. 

You nodded, “Go ahead”

He grabbed your hand in urgency but you didn’t stop him, “I knew how upset it would make you, and I’m so fucking sorry. I knew the moment that I told you, it would be real, and is it crazy if I wanted the summer to last longer? I was being selfish and I wasn’t thinking”

You took a deep breath, his words calming you down by the second, “It’s not selfish. I..I’m sorry. I just thought you were hiding it from me, and…I got upset. How long have you known?”

“Barely two days” He admitted, and then, “That’s kind of why I was rushing through your list”

A laugh escaped you, at the lost innocence of that sentence, “What? My list is not… important, Hyunjin”

He frowned, “It was to me…”

The cold water draped over your forehead, dripping down your eyes, tracing your nose, falling into your mouth. You should be sane, and walk out of this storm before you both fell sick. Hyunjin was just watching you, and you think his heart was broken too. For a reason different to yours.

“A few hours…” You realised, and you were already losing time.

He squeezed your hand, “If you would let me, I’d like to spend them with you”

The rain intensified, transforming into a downpour, drowning out the last of his sentence. Everybody must have left the drive-in theater by now and that meant it was just you and him in the middle of this summer storm.

You felt like a broken record, “I wish I knew”

“Why?” He bent down to your height, voice softening, “It…wouldn’t have changed anything”

You took in a deep breath. He was right.

It wouldn’t have changed anything.

His eyes were exploring yours, apologetic, and you could understand what went on in his head. If you could spare Hyunjin the pain of something sad, you would have done the same.

He was getting drenched in the storm, and you’d feel guilty if he fell sick because of you, “Are you okay?” He asked you.

You suddenly felt numb. 

Why shouldn’t you be okay?

“I’ll only be a few hours away from you” He reassured you, and then chuckled softly, “It’s not like I’m moving to another country”

A loud honk pulled you out of the conversation.

Yuqi’s truck was to the side, parked on the dirt road, and Yeonjun was poking his head out of the window, “What the hell are you two still doing out there?”

You looked back at Hyunjin, swallowing, “We should go”

“Come on” He spoke, guiding you towards the car with his hand on your back. You rushed inside, arms around yourself to be warm. He went around the back, getting in through the other side, and he was completely soaked, hair dripping, “Sorry for getting your seats wet, Yuqi”

She told him it was fine, and Yeonjun turned round to ask, “Am I taking you straight home then, Y/N?”

Yuqi gave you a sympathetic look in the rearview mirror. Felix must have told her what the argument had been about.

You glanced at Hyunjin. He thought you were angry at him. Well, you were a bit. But never enough to ignore him like this. This was his last night here. Everything felt so sudden, and rushed, and you weren’t sure you’d even understood it, but you had be mature about this.

“No, I’m…not going home” You told Yeonjun.

Hyunjin raised his eyebrows, as if to ask if you were sure.

He was crazy if he thought you’d let him go without even saying goodbye.

“Can I come to your place?”

He nodded, in a single breath answering, “Of course”

Every second spent arguing over this was one less second with him. Yeonjun drove away from the loading dock, and time was slipping away and you glanced at Hyunjin. He was looking out at the town as it passed by, and he looked so fucking lost…or nostalgic.

Daejon passed by in a blur, as you drove to his house.

It would be selfish of you to think you were the only one affected by this. He was the one who would have to go back the life he’d left behind.

You drove past Aera’s, and Hyunjin’s gaze lingered on it, long after you’d already passed it. The car ride was quiet, other than the music Yuqi was playing, but you’d tuned it out.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows were furrowed as he watched the blur of trees and homes and places you’d come to spend all of your time in this summer. It was like he was trying to take everything in but Yeonjun drove faster than his memories could catch up.

His hand was on his thigh, fingers trembling still, and you don’t know if it was from the cold or if he was scared. 

Your heart squeezed in your chest. 

You reached over without thinking, hand settling over his, and immediately, he was calm.

»»————-

Hyunjin’s room was ripped bare. 

The art had been taken off the walls, the paint canisters had been stashed out of sight, the mattress was naked of the blue sheets and comforter you’d grown to love.

Cardboard boxes lay under his window, taped up and sealed shut.

His art wasn’t decorating the room anymore, instead it lay packed under layers of bubble wrap and paper.

It was strange, because you’d only been here a few times, enough to count on one hand, but it felt like a loss. Empty rooms always made you sad. It signified the end of something.

Yeonjun’s room had stayed empty, and even when he visited home, he’d live out of his suitcase. After all, nobody took the time to hang back picture frames on the walls. 

Your gut tinged with sadness.

Hyunjin stood at the other side of the room, arms crossed, emanating a calm silence.

Your eyes met his, a strange resignation within them. You hugged yourself, arms coming round your body in a comforting embrace. 

The room was far too barren for your liking, but compared to outside, at least it was warm here.

With difficulty you found the words, “How does it feel? To see your room like this?”

He cleared his throat, and his hair was still wet, chestnut strands sticking to his skin, “Honestly?”

“Yeah”

“I don’t feel anything”

Maybe that was the saddest answer you could hear. 

Your indignant look made him clarify further.

His Adam’s apple bobbed before he spoke, “I…I know that’s weird. I thought I’d be sad, but I don’t really feel anything”  

“I get that” You nodded, leaning against the wall, movements mirroring his. 

“You do?” He tilt his head, fiddling with the pendant around his neck.

You did get him, but you can’t seem to elaborate.

After all, you’ve never had to deal with anything of this nature. 

You’ve lived in the same place your whole life. The same room. The same bed. The same view from your window every morning and night.

How could you know what goodbyes felt like?

“I thought I’d be sadder” He continues upon your silence, “I just don’t feel much of anything, and that makes me…feel sad. Shouldn’t I be just a little upset?”

“Maybe you haven’t processed it yet?” You offered.

He shook his head, frown lines on his forehead, “It’s not that”

You couldn’t comprehend what he felt, and all you could do was guess, “Maybe it’s too soon” 

His eyebrows shot up, as if he realised something utterly significant about himself. Yet he didn’t share it with you. He slipped his hands deeper into his pockets, adjusting his posture against the wall.

A black suitcase stood between you, and you wonder what he’d put in it. What was he taking with him? It was strange to imagine that his entire summer here had fit into just those four cardboard boxes. There must have been things he discarded, or gave away.

What did he leave behind?

“So…how will you take all this stuff back?” You asked, gesturing over to the boxes.

“I’m not. I’m just taking my luggage with me” He explained, “I just packed everything else so it’d be easier for my aunt to take care of the house when I’m gone”

When he’s gone.

“That’s thoughtful of you” You smiled, gazing at the other boxes pushed under his bed, “What about your art supplies? Are you taking them too?”

He shook his head, chuckling nervously, “No, I had no space in my bag”

Your eyebrows shot up, “How are you going to paint when you’re in the city then?”

“I doubt I’ll have time at first” He admit.

Your heart clenched. Another loss.

“But…when I do, I’ll just get new supplies” He continued, so simply.

Your eyes narrowed, “Hwang Hyunjin… do you have any idea how expensive art supplies are?”

A hint of a smile appeared on his face, “I know, but I have no choice. There’s an art shop in Hongdae. I’ve passed it a hundred times. I think I’ll finally visit it”

“You’re going to forget all about Aera’s then” You frowned.

He hummed, smiling at you, “I could never”

You smiled, and a comfortable silence fell upon you.

He moved across his room to sit against the desk, “I am kind of sad about putting away all my art though. They’re just going to collect dust forever”

“Maybe you can put them back up when you come back” You suggested.

He nodded, “Right. When I’m back.”

He traced a hand against his empty desk. Just a few days ago, it was full of clutter, flower vases, and pretty candles, and pencils of different sizes. The first night he’d come to Aera’s he’d bought a little canvas and a single pencil from you.

That was so long ago, and you smiled to yourself at the memory.

“You’re really not going to miss home, and your room?” 

“I have something of yours” He interrupted, ignoring your questions entirely.

“Oh…okay” Is all you can seem to muster.

He pulled open the drawers, and you move towards him. He’d cleared out everything from within them too. Including all his paint supplies, his knick-knacks, the hair ties… and that box of condoms you saw once…

Was he leaving that behind?

Or had he packed that too?

Maybe it’d be useful to him in the city.

The thought made you choke up, and you turned away, giving him space to look for whatever he was looking for. 

He finally pulled open the last drawer, and spoke, “I found it when cleaning, and uh, I don’t know how but I forgot to return it,”

You stepped forward to take a glimpse, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

“My sketchbook!” You realised, recognising the torn-up leather cover. 

Pulling it out, you flipped it open, seeing the sketches you made on countless train journeys, “Honestly…I didn’t even know you have this”

Hyunjin laughed, and your gaze darted to his.

It was the first he’d laughed like this since he’d told you he was leaving.

“I promise I didn’t steal it or anything” He admitted, “You never took it back after Felix’s birthday”

“That was ages ago. I guess I have far too many sketchbooks to keep count” You hummed, flipping further through the book, seeing the drawings Hyunjin had filled it with on the journey, when you’d given it to him. You felt him move closer to you, body stopping right behind yours.

You traced your fingers against the ink, trying not to get distracted by his breathing on your neck, “The beach cabin. You drew it”

Hyunjin nodded, looking over your shoulder at the picture, “I did. That was…a good night”

You craned your neck to look at him, a laugh escaping, “Really? I felt kind of bad for dragging you along for that whole trip. Ended up being pretty shitty”

He smiled, eyes flickering over you, “Not all of it”

You flipped to another page, but Hyunjin’s hand reached out to stop you. You looked at him questioningly.

“Uh…you can go through that later. We don’t have much time”

You nodded, keeping it aside. He walked over, sitting on the mattress, and stared out through the window. It was still raining fiercely, a thunderstorm raging outside.

 “If it wasn’t raining, we could have gone stargazing” He realised.

The disappointed in his tone pulled at your heartstrings, “Maybe it’ll pass soon”

He shook his head, “No, I checked — It’s going to be cloudy till noon tomorrow. I’ll already be gone by then”

“Oh”

It was hard to put his words into comprehension. 

He was really going to be gone. 

You’d gotten so used to seeing him all the time, everywhere. He would show up at your job, and he would go around town with you, and a part of you felt like he’d always be here to do that.

After a while, he sighed, “I guess I was looking forward to doing something cool with you…before I have to leave”

You stared at the rain, the droplets trailing down his windowsill, racing to the bottom, “This could be nice too. It hasn’t rained like this in months”

He nodded in silent agreement, and you watched the downpour, quietly, stealing glances at him. There was a sense of awkwardness and emptiness in the air. 

He wasn’t being honest with you about everything, but you didn’t want to push. It felt like he was holding back yet again, and you wish he’d just tell you everything on his mind.

Flashes of lightning lit up his face every few minutes, and he looked out at the dark garden like it held all the answers to life, and the universe. 

“Hyunjin…” You spoke.

He glanced at you, and his eyes looked sad. 

You were counting down the fleeting moments left with him. Was he too?

It broke your heart. Why was he so quiet when you only had a few hours together?

You couldn’t push him, but each second mattered.

So you walked over to him, kneeling on the floor so you could look at him, “What’s wrong?”

His eyes darted between yours, lips parted, as he thought over your question.

“I don’t know” His voice quivered.

You placed a hand on his leg, to ground him, “You wanted me to come over”

He swallowed, “I did”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be alone right now”

“You’re not” You assured him, patting lightly on his knee, “What are you thinking about?”

“Shouldn’t I feel sad?” He asked, “Something has to be wrong with me”

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“You asked me earlier if I will miss Daejon, but I only feel numb. I cried when I left Seoul, but why do I feel nothing leaving here?”

His words were heavy, and you don’t know if you were qualified to answer him, because you were too emotionally invested in this, and in him.

“Maybe you haven’t processed it yet”

He looked back at the garden, fence, and skies, “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m going to be back in the city tomorrow. It feels like a world apart, and I can’t really grasp leaving this”

“I mean, it is a world apart, Hyunjin”

He looked at you, “I feel like I never got the chance to settle here. It’s been so temporary. I always knew I was only here for a little while, and I can’t get myself to feel sad”

“It’s not like… an obligation, Hyun. I can’t imagine how it feels like to live two places. If you don’t feel a certain way, you can’t force it”

He nodded, quietly staring ahead at his garden.

He was stuck between two places, and two lives. He’d always told you about that. 

Even though he wasn’t sad, he didn’t seem happy either, so you said, “What are you looking forward to the most when you get back?”

“Meeting the guys” He responded, in a heartbeat, and then smiled at his own eagerness, “I’m also excited to just be able to do my job again”

“Yeah?” You asked, taking a seat next to him so you could be level with him, “Do you already have your schedule for the next few weeks?”

He nodded, “Mmh. It’s kind of crazy, but it’ll be nice to be that busy again”

You shifted closer to him, as did he, with the pouring rain in backdrop. It was isolating, but comforting, “What else?”

“Hmm?”

“What else are you excited about?”

Hyunjin’s lips pulled up into a smile, “To step into the dance studio. Man, I’ve missed that more than anything”

You smiled, “Yeah?”

“When I was a trainee, I basically slept there.” He hummed, and despite the obvious hardships he hinted at, his memory came from a place of fondness and comfort.

His eyes crinkled as he remembered something else, “It’s funny. It happened so often. Our manager installed a small bench there, so I could pass out on it, instead of killing my back on the hardwood floor”

“Wow. That’s so nice of him” You smiled, watching his eyes lit up talking about his home.

“I also can’t wait to get back to the recording studio. Chan told me details about the next album. Apparently, he, uh, wants me to have a couple of my own songs on it”

Your eyes widened, “Wait, what do you mean?”

As far as you knew, all of their songs were written by his team members.

“Um” He laughed nervously, crossing his legs, “Like songs I write just by myself, and produce”

“I didn’t know you write songs” You admitted, feeling stupid. Sadness settled in your stomach, as you realised there was so much you still didn’t know much about Hyunjin. 

There was so much you wanted to know, to discover about him. 

Hyunjin laughed, “I try to, I haven’t released my own yet. The guys usually take care of that, so this will be a first…I don’t even know what I’ll write about”

“But…have you written songs before?”

He nodded, “I used to write a lot on tour, but I never really felt confident enough to release them”

Curiosity flooded you, “What kind of things do you write about?”

He laughed, “You’ll be disappointed, it’s kind of cheesy…and mainstream”

“I don’t care”

He smiled, “You’ll be the first to hear if I finish”

“Are you excited to see Chan?”

He laughed, “Insanely. Jisung and Binnie too. I can’t believe I went so long without them. Hopefully they haven’t burnt the dorm down”

He grimaced at the thought, and then laughed, “And Jisung…man, I think I’ll squeeze the life out of him when I see him, and not let go. He’s been through far too much in my absence”

“They must be missing you a lot” You spoke, watching his fond smile. 

You would miss so many moments in his life. 

Crucial moments that would redefine him as a person.

You would miss the excitement in his eyes when he reunited with the boys again. You’d miss the work he would put into the self-composed songs, and the satisfaction of his smile when he finished.

So many little and bigger moments of happiness, the kind of things that make a person. 

The next time you saw him, he’d probably be so different from who he was now. 

You would both have changed as people, grown apart from each other.

But he was smiling at everything he had to look forward to, and that’s all you wanted in the moment. For him to feel happy.

“We still have a few hours left. It’s your last night. Is there anything in particular you wanted to do?”

Hyunjin tilt his head, “I didn’t really plan for anything… I was just hoping you’d spend it with me”

He already seemed so much more relaxed, and you were glad. 

“Do you need help cleaning anything or packing up?”

He shook his head, “I think everything’s done but…we could have drinks together, if you want?”

His last night in town should be memorable.

“That sounds perfect” You smiled, getting off the bed, as you followed Hyunjin back to the kitchen. 

He had changed from his storm-drenched clothes into simple sweatpants, and they fit him well, sitting comfortably on his hips. The hoodie was also simple, and it looked soft enough to touch, like it was made from the finest wool in the country.

“What do you usually like to have, Y/N?” Hyunjin reached up to the cabinets at the very top, his height allowing him to do so with ease, “I know that you liked the rosé when we went to the paint event, and I know that you absolutely hate beer”

You laughed at the memory, jumping up to sit comfortably on the kitchen counter. Hyunjin glanced at you briefly, smiling to himself at the position, and how you’d made yourself at home.

You thought about it, but you weren’t a big cocktail drinker, so you hummed, “I’ll have anything you’ll have”

“You’re easily influenced” He laughed, “What if you hate my taste?”

You smiled at him, swinging your legs gently against the counter, “I trust you”

He made a face, “Now I have to live up to your unrealistically high expectations of me. Isn’t that too much pressure for my last night?”

You threw your hands up in defense, “You’re the one who suggested we have drinks, Hyun”

He smiled, peering at the alcohol he had in his cabinet. There wasn’t too much, since he rarely lived here, and you don’t suppose his aunt was a big drinker.

“Have you ever tried a Dolce Vita?” He asked you, the drink's name slipping from his lips so smoothly, and you guessed it was Italian from his pronunciation, but Hyunjin made it sound so expensive.

“Can’t say that I have” 

He stepped towards you, body touching your legs, but still not close enough, “I think it’s your kind of a drink”

“What makes you say that?” You tilt your head.

He thought over his words, mulling them in his head, “It’s…classy. It’s elegant, and it’s…romantic”

You stilled, watching him describe it.

 “It’s pink, and…it has dark chocolate on top” He continued, and then smiled to himself, “It fits you really well”

You smiled, heat flushing to your chest, and cheeks, “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t have all the ingredients” He spoke, a soft pout on his lips, “But I can make you another drink, that you might like”

“When did you even learn all these recipes? I didn’t know you’re a connoisseur”

He laughed, stepping back towards the cabinet to check the ingredients, “I’m not, but Chan taught me a few. He and Kairi…make their own cocktails a lot”

“I hope I can meet them one day” You spoke.

Hyunjin glanced at you over his shoulder, “You’d love Kairi. She’s…so much like you”

You thought, still swaying your legs, “Does that mean Chan would love me too?”

He chuckled, and his shoulders shook from the action, “He kind of already does”

It was still pouring outside, and you looked at the droplets cascading down the kitchen window. It was kind of nice to be trapped in this house with him. It was a big place too, and it was empty, and just the two of you. It was like you were two kids playing house. 

Hyunjin was fiddling with different liqueurs, and you could hear the clinking of glasses, and spoons as he moved things around on the counter. You would help him if you could, but you had no experience in mixology and he had it handled. It was calming, to listen to the thunder, and just sit here.

“What are you making now, Hyun?” You asked, fiddling with the cuts in your jeans.

“It’s called the Queen of Hearts”

You laughed, “I have never heard of these names. Are they just for rich people…or something?”

He tsked, shaking his head “I’m not that rich, Y/N”

“Statistically speaking, you’re…like in one of the biggest bands in our country” 

He smiled softly at you again, “How do you know that? Did you read about me online?”

“Maybe I did” You flushed, “Sometimes you show up on my Instagram. Your fans are very loyal, you know?”

He laughed, turning around to look at you, and you could see he was shaking a liquid in a glass, “I sure hope you don’t believe everything you see about me though. There’s a lot of false news out there”

“So, what, you haven’t dated like every female pop star in the country?” You teased him, exaggerating.

He rolled his eyes, turning back to the counter, to put the glass down, “Did someone actually say that I did?”

“Of course not” You smiled, “That wouldn’t be a believable rumour”

“You’d be surprised what people believe” He laughed, and then paused to say, “I’ve only ever dated one”

Your eyebrows shot up, “A pop star?”

“Yeah”

You looked at him, and you were so curious suddenly, albeit a lot of it stemmed from envy. Whoever had the honor of dating Hyunjin…did they know how lucky they were?

Was in he love with her?

Was she?

You imagined it in your head — the dates he would go on, and the kind of romantic things he would say. He was already such a nice person to you, and you two were just friends. What would he be like…with the girl that he loves?

A pit of jealousy settled in your stomach, so deep, that it ached.

“So, um, I added less liquor to yours just so you can taste it. If you like it, I can give you some more” He spoke, turning to delicately hand you the wine glass. The drink was the color of champagne. 

You peered at the drink, “What’s in it?”

He tilt his head, thinking, “It’s a bit of gin, wine, and…some lemon juice. For the sweet flavour, I added a syrup to it. It’s dahlia…I think you’ll love that”

You stared at him as he explained it, “You’re kidding me”

You reached for the glass, but he immediately pulled it back before you could.

“Wait! I forgot something”

“What?” You laughed, “What else could possibly be missing? The tears of angels?”

He rolled his eyes, “Ha-ha”

You tried to grab it, “Just give it to me. I’m sure it’s fine”

He shook his head, pulling the drink away from your hold, “No, this is the last drink I’m making you. It has to be perfect”

“It’s also the first drink you’ve made me” You pointed out.

He laughed, holding up a finger, “Give me just one minute. I’ll be back”

He placed the glass back on the countertop, and slipped his shoes on.

“Wait, what?”

“I have to run to the garden for something” He told you over his shoulder.

“But there’s a storm out” You exclaimed, dumbly.

He pulled the hood up, looking back at you as he zipped it up fully, “I’ll be fine”

“Hyunjin, don’t go” You laughed, “I’m sure the drink is fine without it”

He shook his head, and he was already halfway out the door. As soon as he pushed open the wooden door, a gust of wind blew in, bringing with it tiny leaves and some rain. The thunder was so much louder now that the door was open, and Hyunjin ran out, shoes put on halfway, and it was so silly that he was doing all this for just a drink.

You waited with bated breath, but you couldn’t see out into the garden from here, so you had no idea what he was up to.

Minutes passed, and you waited in his kitchen, sat on the countertop.

“Holy shit. It’s fucking pouring!” He yelled, running back inside, and he was completely wet, from head to toe. He slipped off his shoes at the back entrance, walking to you barefoot.

“Oh my god” You mumbled, watching the water drip off him, “I told you it was a bad idea”

His fist was closed around something, and you wonder what he got from the garden.

He grabbed your wine glass, and dropped something in it, “You’ll change your mind after you try this”

He then smiled proudly, handing it to you.

Your eyes widened, as you peered into the glass. 

A pretty flower floated on top of the gin, its pink petals wet from the liquid, giving the entire drink an illusion of a pastel paint.

“A flower?” You asked, giggling in disbelief.

“It’s edible” He explained, smiling still, “It’s perfect for you”

“Did you get one for yourself too?”

“Mmh” He nodded, showing you his. The flower floated on the top beautifully, dissolving partially into the liquid. Your drinks looked beautiful together, ethereal and completely fitting to who Hyunjin was as a person.

“Aren’t you cold?” 

“I am” He admitted, and then looked just a tad regretful, “But I packed away all my spare clothes”

“Maybe you should’ve thought this all through” You giggled.

“To be fair, I wasn’t thinking” He shrugged, “It’s fine. It’ll dry out”

He reached behind his neck, peeling off his grey hoodie. The white t-shirt he wore inside rose up with the simple action, revealing his stomach in a glimpse. Like a teenage girl, your heart jumped at the little display of skin. He tossed the hoodie to the side, and stepped closer to you.

His hair looked darker when wet, almost a shade of black, sticking to his face and his cheeks. He puffed, pushing it back behind his ears. You noticed his pendant, stuck in the front of his shirt as he stepped closer to you.

You weren’t thinking as you reached forward, grabbing the thin silver chain around his neck and tugged it out, so it fell against his chest instead.

Hyunjin was frozen still at the action, darting down to see what you were doing and then looking back up at you.

Your hand was still on the chain, and every part of you wanted to pull him closer by it, so you could kiss him. Right now didn’t seem like a good time for that though. He was feeling all kinds of emotions and vulnerability …if he wanted to kiss you tonight, he would have.

The thought of letting Hyunjin go — without feeling his lips again — hurt you, but it was a reality you’d accept. You’d been all over the place with him recently, never having defined what it meant, or why you kept making out without talking about it.

Maybe it was just a summer fling for him, because he’d made it plenty clear you two could never be anything more.

You cleared your throat, dropping your hand, “Now, can we try the drink? I’m dying to taste it” 

He nodded a yes, and you held your glasses up, clinking them against each other. The sound echoed in the empty house. As you did that, he looked right into your eyes, and you felt a familiar shiver run down your spine. You lift the glass up to your lips, tasting the liquid, and Hyunjin watched you as you did so. His eyes on you made you feel a little shy, but that was soon overpowered by how good the drink tasted. 

It smelled, and tasted just like flowers and sweetness, and you let out a moan of satisfaction, “Fuck. That’s…revolutionary”

Hyunjin smiled, eyes crinkling, and only after that did he sip his drink. It tasted like a dark chocolate tart, and like flavourful berries grown on a farm.

“Have you ever considered…becoming a mixologist instead of an idol?” 

He laughed, stepping close to the counter so that he lingered at your footsteps. If you opened your legs up just a bit, he could stand between your thighs but you weren’t sure it was appropriate. So, you stayed the way you were, sitting on the countertop, and Hyunjin stood as close as possible, his lower stomach grazing against your knees.

“Maybe when I retire” He joked, swirling the drink around in his glass.

“No, but this is seriously so good” You told him, genuinely now, “Is there anything that you can’t do?”

“Stop” His face turned red, and he looked embarrassed, “It’s just a drink. I didn’t do anything else”

“Well, nobody’s ever made me a Queen of Hearts before” 

He glanced up at you, “They’re missing out on a great opportunity then”

“Mmh. I’m sure nobody’s dying to do that”

His smile fell, hand landing on your knee, “Don’t do that”

“Do what…?”

“Talk down about yourself”

You blinked. It really wasn’t your intention to do that. You were just being honest. Nobody you knew in your life, or in all of Daejon would ever make a drink like this for you. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but it was just the truth.

So it was interesting that he interpreted it as such, as if your reply offended him.

“I wasn’t” You clarified, “I just meant…there’s not a lot of guys in Daejon with skill sets like yours”

The way you said it made you cringe, it came out sounding so professionally formal.

He looked up at you, sincere expression, “That’s…a compliment I’ve never got before”

You broke into a laugh, and absentmindedly put your hand over his, the one that rested on your knee. His hand dwarfed yours in comparison, but you drew circles over it as you talked, “Well, I have a gift and a burning desire for pleasing others or I’ll shrivel up and die”

Hyunjin laughed, squeezing your knee, and his hair was wet, but it was already beginning to dry up around his face.

“I like when you’re like that” He suddenly spoke, eyes focused on his drink, not you.

You took a sip of it too, watching him, “When I’m like what?”

“I don’t know” He looked up, “Confident. Funny. Yourself. Not…sad”

“You make it sound like I’m always depressed”

He shook his head, “You know what I mean”

“I don’t” 

He sighed, as if wondering whether to say it or not.

You drew a star on his hand, the one that rest on your knee, “Tell me. It’s our last night together anyway”

It seemed like that was the push he needed, and he placed his glass to the side, “The past few weeks you haven’t seemed the most…happy. I know that you were having a lot of trouble with your friends, and with the art program application” He trailed off, looking guilty again, “And because of me…”

You stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“I guess it was just not a great time for you. But tonight, when I’m talking to you…it feels like those problems don’t exist in the moment. I know I have to leave tomorrow, and I know you were upset about that, and you have every right to be, but right now…it feels like you’re less burdened somehow”

You didn’t know he noticed so many things about you, and so your heart warmed at just that implication. Hearing him recount what you’d been going through, you also felt a little emotional.

He looked up at you, looking a little panicked, “Or I could be completely wrong. You can correct me”

“No” You refuted, “You’re not wrong. I do feel…less burdened. I guess I just never thought of it like that. For me, it just felt like each day was getting progressively worse. I didn’t look at it from any other perspective”

“Yeah… but things will work out for you, Y/N” He said so simply, “I know that sounds preach-y, but… it may feel like everything in your life is going wrong somehow, but I assure you it’s not. Every bad day you’ve recently had…all of that won’t matter soon enough, and so you have to know that this sadness isn’t forever”

You blinked, staring at him. Absentmindedly, his hand slid further up your leg, drifting from your knee to your thigh. You let it.

He pushed his stray hair back with his other hand, tucking the strands behind his ear, “And I know how much this art program meant to you, I’ve had my share of failed dreams before, so I know how gut-wrenching it is, but this isn’t the end of your art journey. You know that right?”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, it can’t be. You have a gift, and…I know that it’s not going to waste”

You smiled, cheeks full from his words, “You have a gift too, you know?”

He locked eyes with you, and he was blushing too, and his fingers rest at your upper thigh now, “Yeah? What’s that?”

“You have...such a good heart, Hyunjin”

His eyes widened, hanging on to your every word.

“You’re the kindest person I know. It doesn’t sound like much, but…I’ve not met many people like you, genuinely good people. I respect that…a lot. You deal with so much bullshit in your life, but you still find a way to be happy”

His eyes lit up, a gorgeous smile appearing on his face, “Isn’t that the point of everything? The endgame”

You laughed, “It is. It what we’re all working towards. I just wish everyone else could be like you”

He smiled at your words, and you would miss this so much. The kind of ideas that you could talk about for hours. He looked beautiful like this. He looked like the most beautiful thing in the world when he was happy. He was shy too, biting his upper lip, and his cheeks were all red.

So you continued, to make that emotion last as long as you could, “I’m serious. You have such a kind heart, Hyunjin. You put your soul into everything you do, even if that’s just talking to someone at the grocery store or something. I think if someone met you, even for just a day in their life, you’d impact them forever”

His eyes crinkled with each sentence, bashful smile appearing, “Thank you”

You took another sip, and you watched him.

He was finishing his drink faster than you, and you just wanted him to be closer.

So, you lift your legs up, folding them on the counter, sitting cross-legged while facing him. His eyebrow shot up, for just a second, before he realised why you did that. He stepped closer, till his body was pressed to the counter, and his face was inches apart from you. 

He lift his glass up, indulging in the last drink, but his eyes stayed on you, and his hand was on your thigh again.

“Thank you for the drink and… for the pep talk. I really enjoyed that” You told him.

He placed his empty glass next to you, a sincere look in his eyes, “That’s what I’m here for”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, and you felt like your cheekbones would hurt.

“Everybody deserves to have someone like you in their lives, Hyunjin”

He was smiling too, cheeks full, eyes twinkling, “You too, Y/N”

You went to sip your drink, but it was already empty and you stared at the glass in your lap, “I finished it”

Hyunjin stared at your lap too, and the petals in the glass balanced in the space between your legs, “Do you want another?”

“Another drink?” You looked up at him.

He nodded, and his cheeks were so flushed, so he was already a little tipsy, “We can make a stronger one”

“You have a train to catch in the morning. Is that a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine” He reassured you, “This night is more important to me than that”

You clutched the counter on both sides, and nodded, “Okay. Another drink sounds good to me then”

He nodded, eyes half-lidded, “Can I have your glass?”

You hummed, “Yeah” but you made no effort to give it to him.

So, his eyes flickered from yours, to the glass between your legs. 

Carefully, he reached for it, trying to grasp the thin stem. You didn’t move an inch, holding your breath. 

His fingers brushed against your inner thighs, and he stilled. But he didn’t say anything. 

He went straight for it, and grabbed the wine glass, so near to where you needed him the most. 

Careful, he lifted it up from between your legs, and then finally you could breathe again. He walked over to the cabinet, “What kind of drink do you want this time?”

“I’ll trust your judgement”

He busied himself yet again, explaining what he was making, using up all the leftover gin he had. You watched him as he worked. The t-shirt was fitted, and it was a little wet from the rain, sticking to his body tightly. That must be uncomfortable. 

As he moved about, pouring the gin into your glasses, you focused on how his back muscles flexed and relaxed. He was so good with his hands, as he worked swiftly and quickly.

Your head was already beginning to spin.

“You have anything to eat?” You asked.

He looked back at you, “Are you dizzy?”

“Just a bit” You reassured him with a smile, “I am hungry though”

He turned, hands on his hips, and you found it hard to focus on his face. The t-shirt was basically see-through at this point, sticking to every ridge and muscle in his body, clinging to him. 

“I might have some chocolate, but I don’t remember if I packed it in my suitcase already”

“You know what, don’t worry about it” You waved it off with your hand, “I’ll be fine”

He looked worried, “You sure?”

“Mmh-mh”

“And you’re okay to have another drink? We don’t need to” 

“No, we won’t get to do this again, so yes I’m okay”

This was your last night, your brain kept screaming at you, again and again.

He turned to finish garnishing the drink. His hair was still long enough to brush his shoulders, and it stuck to the back of his neck, and the shade of brown really suited him. You wanted to run your hands through it, feel the wet hair between your fingertips, scratch it with your nails. 

His girlfriend…she must have had the honour to do that, whenever she wanted.

Unlike you. You always had to wait for moments. 

Moments like the one in the Photobooth. Or under the fireflies.

The special moments you lived for.

You couldn’t just casually walk up to him, and kiss him.

You were a little tipsy, so you didn’t think twice, “Can I ask you about her?”

He paused, and asked you, “Her?”

“The pop star you dated” 

Understanding sank into his shoulders, and he handed you the glasses. The second round of drinks were ready. Standing opposite you, he crossed one arm over his stomach, drinking with the other hand.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t feel comfortable” You added, watching him carefully.

He didn’t seem uncomfortable.

He tipped his head back, drinking, and then looked at you, “You really want to know?”

“Yeah” You gripped the counter, and your drink lay to the side, untouched.

You added, “I mean she’s your ex, and…we’re friends. Friends talk about that kind of stuff”

He nodded, slightly, “They do”

You were relieved, never wanting to make him uncomfortable, but you were burning with curiosity.

“What do you want to know?” He tilt his head.

“How did you meet her?”

He suddenly relaxed, as if he’d been expecting you to ask much harder questions, “Oh, uh. She was training at the same company I was. On a different floor, of course. She was one of the top trainees of her year, and…we would practice at the same time, overnight. I bumped into her a few times then”

“Oh. Sounds like she worked really hard”

Hyunjin nodded, “I mean, we had no choice, but yeah…she was one of the few who really pushed herself. Some days it felt impossible to debut, so you really only made it if you worked your ass off, you know?” He then paused, as if wondering whether to say the next thing or not, but he did it anyway, “That’s what I liked the most about her”

Your gut clenched, but your curiosity overshadowed the jealousy that was eating you up.

“So…did you ask her out? Or did she?”

He took another sip of his drink, glancing briefly to the floor and then up at you, “Yeah. I had a stupid teenage crush on her”

The words were enough to make you finally pick up your drink, and perhaps you needed to be inebriated before listening to this.

A fucking crush. She must have been the luckiest girl in the world to be crushed on by Hwang Hyunjin. You wondered what she looked like, but maybe it was better not to know. She was a star, she was probably perfect.

If he ever told you he had a crush on you, you’d probably pass out. 

“Was that allowed…? To date another trainee?”

Hyunjin then laughed, shaking his head, “Um, not at all. It was forbidden”

Oh.

It was forbidden, but he did it anyway.

“You must have liked her a lot”

He hummed, swirling the liquid in his glass, “I was a stupid kid. I wasn’t thinking”

“So you regret it?”

He shook his head, “No. I needed the experience”

“Of dating?”

“That, but also…a month or so after we started going out, one of her friends was asked to leave the company because she was caught up in a scandal. A dating one. That made me realise that I was risking my entire life, and my dream, for…a girl”

“How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” He seemed confused.

Your body was alight with all of this information.

“Keep it a secret for that long”

He smiled a bit at the memory, “Um. We found ways. We’d meet after dinner, and during late-night practices. Sometimes really early in the morning”

You think you would die.

“Did you fuck?”

Hyunjin’s eyes shot up to yours, wide, surprised. 

You don’t know what the hell possessed you to say that, but you didn’t budge, indicating to him that it was okay to answer.

He slowly nodded, tongue poking his cheek, “Yeah. We did”

You were dying.

But for some godforsaken reason, you needed to know the details. As if the thoughts of his secret dating days was arousing to you.

“Tell me more”

He til his head, words at the tip of his tongue. He wanted to ask you if you really wanted to know, or why you were so curious, but he didn’t ask. 

You wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t prepared to hear the answer.

Hyunjin was staring at you, assessing every little detail of your facial expression, and you wanted to seem confident. You weren’t some kid. 

You could hear about him having sex, and not freak out.

Thoughts of him fucking some pop star should kill you, but it didn’t. Your core was tight, with anticipation, with imagination. You pressed your thighs together, waiting for him to talk.

“Um…” He paused, to take another sip. Perhaps he needed some liquid courage too sometimes, “It was never…we never had too much time on our hands. It was always quick. Rushed, but I think that’s where half of the thrill of it was. The fear of being caught anytime. If we weren’t quick, we wouldn’t have been able to…”

Your heart was pounding.

Images flashing in your head. 

He looked into your eyes, and you just nodded, for him to continue. If he looked at your hands, he would see your knuckles were white from gripping the counter too hard. 

“It was hot” He spoke, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, “The secrecy. The…shared glances. Nobody but us knew what went on. During group sessions, we would watch each other…in the practice room. Working out. Dancing”

“And?”

It wasn’t enough.

His eyes had a peculiar expression, like he couldn’t understand why you wanted to know all this stuff, but he told you anyway, “And…on bad days, when she was frustrated or upset, I’d…be there for her. In the way that she wanted”

You took a large sip of your drink, the alcohol sour in your mouth, and your head was beginning to spin. In a good way. You were wet too.

You didn’t think you could ever feel this way. 

You were dizzy with want, and with desire, and his name escaped your lips in what was almost a complaint, “Hyunjin…”

“Yeah?” He was immediate to step closer, keeping his glass aside. He put his hands on either side of you, caging you in place, and his voice dropped so low, “Are you gonna tell me why you wanted to know that?”

“I don’t know” You mumbled, “I don’t understand it myself”

He leaned in, watching you, “You’ve had a lot to drink”

“I’m fine”

His voice softened, and he grabbed the glass from you, “I know, but…let’s not drink anymore, okay?”

“Why?” You whined, “It’s your last night”

He out a soft laugh, “It’s not like I’m dying or anything. I’ll only be a few hours away from you”

“A few hours is a lot. I don’t want you to be even a few minutes away” You complained.

He smiled, adoration in his eyes, “So, what do you want then? To stay with me all the time?”

You nodded, eyes closing, “That sounds fair”

He laughed, loudly, “Is it really? What about my job? Is it fair for me to leave all of that?”

“What about me?” You opened your eyes to look at him. 

He was so close, just inches away. His wispy bangs stuck to his forehead, grazing his eyebrows. His eyes were full of amusement, they were so brown, and so big. 

His lips were thick, tinted with the colors of the drink, and even little accidents like that made him look perfect, like he was sculpted by a great artist. You could admire him for hours.

He tilt his head, “What about you?”

You pursed your lips, feeling sad all of a sudden, “Are you gonna forget all about me?”

His smiled, hand tracing your cheek, “You really think so?”

“Your whole life is waiting for you back there”

He nodded, “It is…”

“You have so much to look forward to” You told him. So much more than what this life here in this little small-town could give him. 

He spoke, “Maybe that’s why I’m not sad. I guess because Seoul has always been my home”

Your heart felt heavy at his confession but you understood him, “Hyun…”

“I know. It sounds horrible. I was born here, and this is where my parents used to live before we moved, and this town should mean so much more to me. I feel like I’m betraying…that”

“You’re not betraying anyone, Hyun. You may not feel this town anymore but Daejon will still always be here for you. If you ever need it”

He glanced at you, eyes wide.

“And I will be too” You continued, “If you ever need me”

His mouth parted as he whispered, “Thank you”

You swallowed, staring at his lips, “What do we do now?”

His eyes flickered over you, and he was quiet.

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, and your mind too. 

“I don’t know” He finally spoke.

Your heart carried a sense of unfulfilment.

There was more that should happen. 

You could talk to each other for hours, and it was endless. Unfortunately, time was linear.

It was finite, and yours with him was coming to an end.

You’d been here for hours, yet it didn’t feel like that.

Hyunjin was staring at you, half-lidded eyes, and empty promises swirled within them.

You swallowed your sadness, trying to find words, “Your manager, he’s going to be coming here soon, right?”

“Yeah. His train will arrive…any time now” He glanced at his phone, “He’s almost here…”

“I should go before he arrives”

Hyunjin nodded, stepping back, “Yeah. He…he can’t see you here”

You jumped off the counter, suddenly unsure what to do or say. This was it.

He was going to be gone soon.

You stared at each other, at a loss for words. You couldn’t even cry. You just felt a certain numbness. The numbness he talked about. Maybe it was the gin.

You also felt like you were in denial, like he would return soon and you’d see him tomorrow morning. 

But the last time he left…he didn’t return for years.

Why would now be any different?

“I don’t know what to say” You mumbled, stupidly. There was nothing wrong with being honest.

He was leaving, and you couldn’t breathe. The air in your body wasn’t enough, and you were panicking because you didn’t know what to fucking say. Why had nobody prepared you for goodbyes like this?

In the movies, they were so dramatic, but real life wasn’t like that.

In the books, they were so romantic, but there was no time for love in his life.

Hyunjin’s expression softened, “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want you to be sad. We’re going to meet again, and we’ll see each other soon”

You nodded, air returning to your lungs, “Right. You’re completely right, Hyunjin”

There was no need to freak out. He wasn’t dying, or anything. 

You didn’t want this to be some big deal. You weren’t going to cry, or make a scene. 

“It’s only for a little while” He shot you a smile.

“Yeah” Your palms were sweaty, and you wiped them on your jeans. You stared at the kitchen counter, and your wine glasses lay empty. You wish you’d asked for another drink. You wish tonight didn’t have to end. You wish time wasn’t linear, and you could go back.

Fuck. If you could change things, you would have gone back just an hour tonight, and you would have told him you were in love with him.

But it was too late now. 

He was just your friend, and he would stay in touch with you, like friends did. It wasn’t any different than what Yeonjun did when he left, or even Seonghwa.

“I should go” You stated, with finality.

Hyunjin nodded, then stepped forward, closing the distance between you until he stood an arm's length away.

“Thank you for coming over” He mentioned, “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight anyway”

“Of course. That’s…what friends are for” You smiled up at him.

He suddenly seemed awkward, hands at his side like he didn’t know what to do, “Can I hug you?”

Why was this so strange?

Why were neither of prepared for this?

You’d never said goodbye to a boy you loved, so you didn’t know how it worked.

You wish there was a manual for this. But even every tutorial in the world couldn’t prepare you for the look in his eyes.

You got up on your toes, pulling him into an embrace, and he immediately hugged you back. His strong arms wrapped around your body, squeezing you in his grip. 

You could smell the rain on him, a faint hint of his cologne, his shampoo. You’d want to bottle up his scent, and keep it with you forever. The air smelt like the ground after it rained, and like an unrequited love.

You tried to memorise the shape of his arms on you, and the sound of his heart beat. 

Hyunjin let go of you, far too quickly, but it was what you needed, or you’d never leave.

You were in a state of fugue, indulging in actions, but not thinking, not feeling.

You found yourself at the front door, and you don’t remember how you got here. You looked back at him, “Text me when you get to the city, okay?”

He nodded, “I will. Don’t worry, okay?”

All your words seem stuck in you. They can’t seem to make it past your chest.

Maybe a part of you thought there’d be some grand declaration of love by now, but this was real life and those things never happened.

You turned to leave.

“Wait—” He suddenly spoke.

“What?” You asked, anticipation swelling within you.

His wait held so many promises. So much hope.

Wait, I’m in love with you too.

Wait, I’m fucking stupid for leaving you all alone in this town.

Wait, please don’t leave me without kissing me goodbye.

He retreated to the kitchen counter, “Wait — your sketchbook. Don’t forget to take that” 

“Oh. Of course” You grabbed it from him, fingers brushing against his. 

“Take care of yourself” He spoke, and it was so forced. It was the right thing to say, obviously. It’s what you told people when you wouldn’t see them again for a while. 

But it felt wrong, like you were both forcing yourselves to follow traditions, and patterns, but those never worked on the two of you.

You pushed open the door, and a gust of wind blew in. The storm had passed now, so you could get home safely, by yourself, all alone. 

Looking over your shoulder as you walked out, you felt nothing. He smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His heart wasn’t in it. 

You were drained out, and all of your emotions were spent.

You held the sketchbook to your chest, focusing on the sound of your footsteps on the wet pavement, and not on Hyunjin’s house behind you.

You heard the door close behind you, and you squeezed the sketchbook a little harder, willing yourself to walk as fast as you could.

It felt like it would be the most emotionally draining moment of your life, but you felt so numb too.

You passed his front porch and bedroom window, and you remembered the first time you’d come over. How he’d shown you all of his art, and his painting. You’d been surprised to know how wonderfully his mind worked. 

Even back then, he’d asked if he could hug you. Always so…fucking nice. 

You were already forgetting the feel of his arms around you.

You stopped in your tracks, and you shouldn’t.

You turned around.

His house was beautiful, like him. 

Tomorrow, it would be empty.

Right now, it was so full of him, of his love, and of everything that made him him.

Your body took on a mind of its own, and you were walking. 

You were walking back to his place. It was stupid. 

What the hell were you doing?

You had no plan or idea of what you’d say when you got there, but that couldn’t have been your goodbye. 

You needed to see him one more time. Just another minute.

You raised your hand in a fist to knock on his door, but before you could, the door flew open.

He stood there, staring at you, eyes wide. 

His hair was messy like he’d run his hand through it a million times since you walked away, but that was only twenty fucking seconds ago.

“Y/N…” He spoke, breathing heavy as his eyes flickered all over you, and the fact that you’d come back.

“What… what were you doing?” You had the audacity to ask him when you didn’t even know what the fuck you were doing.

He was breathing so heavy, chest moving rapidly up and down, “I don’t really know. I was coming after you” 

Realisation sank in. 

You’d come back to see him again, and in the same breath he was coming after you. 

The world was really so cruel.

How could two people be so perfect for each other but be destined to be apart?

You couldn’t say anything, except his name, “Hyun—”

And in the same breath, his lips collided with yours, so hard and fast.

The impact was so powerful you stumbled back, but his arm was tightly wrapped around you, holding you up. 

It was tight around your waist, gripping you, and he was devouring you, lips moving against yours like they never should be apart. 

You were running out of time.

You kissed him back, hands coming up to his arms, gripping his biceps tight, fingernails digging in. 

Time was running and it was slipping away every second that the Earth was turning, but his grip on you was so strong that even a planet couldn’t come between you.

You stood at his doorway, on the threshold, halfway in, halfway out.

He’d never kissed you like this. 

His hand slipped into your hair, gripping onto it so tightly it almost hurt, tilting your head back and back as he towered over you. He kept kissing you, pressing pecks against your lips, bruising them.

Your hands drifted into the front of his shirt, and you gripped it in your fists, holding onto him for life.

“Fuck—” He mumbled, in a breath between pecks. Fuck, you’re actually fucking doing this again.

Your body was heating up, and he stopped to let you breathe, moving his mouth over your jawline and leaving kisses to your ear. You were putty in his hands, and he tilt his head the other way, pecking every inch of un-kissed skin.

“You came back” He breathed, pupils dilated as he looked right at you, and both his hands came to hold your face.

“I couldn’t go” You were panting, trying to get the air back in.

“I’m gonna miss you so fucking much” His lips trailed over yours again, tracing your mouth to memory.

“I know, I know” You nodded, realising that you were both tasting your tears. You didn’t even know you had tears.

The door was wide open and it was stupid to do this now, but it was everything. The wind prickled goosebumps up your arms, and legs, and you both kissed each other goodbye.

“Can I just say something?” He asked, breathing heavy. 

“There’s no time” You told him, kissing him again, and again.

He laughed slightly, “I’ll be quick”

You pulled away, “Tell me”

He was speaking quickly, trying to get all the words out in one breath, “I know we’ve said it a million times. I know we’re supposed to just be friends, and I know nothing can happen, but…I have no self-control around you. I’m so fucking sorry”

It didn’t make you sad. You’d heard it before, and you embraced it.

“Don’t apologise” You mumbled, and your hands drifted around his waist, feeling him up. 

Was it possible to want somebody so bad, knowing it would lead to absolutely nothing?

He swallowed, “I know we have to just be friends…but I’m so fucking attracted to you. Like an absolutely insane amount. It’s impossible for me to pretend I’m not into you”

Each word he said just made you wet, and you kissed him instead of answering. 

There was no time, because when were things ever easy for you?

You felt him up, all you could, hands drifting to his ass, and to the front of his pants, squeezing him through his sweatpants.

He left kisses on your jaw, and he felt you up too. His hand squeezed your ass, the other going up the front of your shirt. His fingers grazed your bra, and he pulled you even closer to him.

“Can I take you inside?” He whispered, ”Please, please, please”

“Hyunjin, I don’t wanna be interrupted” You breathed, because that’s what always happened. 

“Me neither” He mumbled into your neck, breathing in your scent, “We won’t… go there. We won’t sleep together”

You pulled back to look him in the eyes, because it sounded impossible right now, “Would we be able to stop before that?”

He nodded, “If you can’t, I’ll stop us. Don’t worry”

How could you say no? 

So he took your hand, fingers intertwining with yours, as you found yourselves back in his bedroom. Everything was put away, and his room was empty, but you sat on the bed and didn’t break the kiss for a second.

You didn’t have the luxury to go further, but you could just kiss. So you did just that.

He didn’t pull you into his lap, because you wouldn’t be able to control yourself if he did.

Instead, you sat cross-legged, facing each other, mouths meeting in the middle like two teenagers dared to kiss at a party.

He kept his hand in your hair, the other on your waist, and it was so innocent it was sweet. Your hands rested on his thighs, squeezing the skin through his sweats.

You didn’t know much time you had left, until he had to leave, until you were interrupted. You hope his manager never showed up. 

You continued to feel him up, memorising every ridge and muscle of his body, and he let out soft moans every time you touched him somewhere new.

“I’m so glad you came back” He mumbled, “I wanted you so much”

“Why didn’t you ask me?” You almost whined, kissing his jawline, “I wanted you too”

Things got more heated, and in a matter of seconds, he was pulling you closer to him. Your knees skidded across the mattress, as Hyunjin pulled you to him. 

Nothing was supposed to happen, but somehow, you were fiddling with the knot of his sweatpants, and he had unbuttoned your jeans, pulling the button out of its loop. 

You were dizzy with desire, and his hand slipped inside your jeans, at the same time that yours did into his sweatpants. Now you really did feel like teenagers — making out with your hands down each other’s pants.

It was hard for him because the waistband of your jeans were so tight, and he seemed frustrated. If you’d known this was going to happen, you’d have worn a dress, or maybe nothing at all, so nothing could stop him from touching you.

His fingers brushed against your underwear, and you were so fucking wet it was ridiculous. You bit back a moan, he’d barely touched you but you were burning.

Everything was spinning, and you were so high off off him. His fingers pushed your panties to the side, your arousal making it harder for him to do.

“Fuck…you’re really wet” He mumbled, and his fingers touched your core. You let out a moan at the feeling.

This was the first time he’d touched you like this, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your hand in his pants stilled, as his fingers started to brush languid circles across your clit. 

Your head fell forward, against his forehead, and he didn’t even seem to mind that you’d stopped touching his cock. He was too focused on you. 

“Shh…I got you” He breathed, kissing your jaw, as he pressed his fingers against you, truly feeling how much you wanted him. You couldn’t describe the way he touched you, as if he was caressing you, fingers brushing against your folds so delicately. Nobody had ever touched you like this.

Your mouth parted, allowing Hyunjin to slip his tongue in, and his anxiety manifested in how intensely he kissed you, like he was running out of time, like this was the last time. You let him take control, as he controlled the pace of it, making out with you. Yet, making out seemed too crude a word for what he was doing. He was savouring every kiss - no half-kisses, no pecks - mouth crushed to yours like he wanted to devour you and you’d let him.

You’d been turned on since hours. You needed more. You gripped onto his bicep tightly, your other hand buried down his pants, hoping he would get the hint. His fingers prodded at your entrance, feeling you.

“Will you let me?” He asked, voice so innocent. You’d never said yes so fast before in your life.

Your lips grazed his ear, and then his cheek, “Please, Hyun”

He pulled back to look at you, “Are you sure?”

“Please”

“Stop me if it hurts, okay?” He kissed under your ear, and then in one swift move, he pushed a finger inside you. You stopped breathing the deeper he got, and you looked at him, mouth parted. 

It didn’t hurt. He could never hurt you.

“You’re so gorgeous” He mumbled, and then he pulled his finger back, before pushing it back in. An embarrassing moan escaped you, and he smiled at your reaction. 

“You like it when I do that?” He asked, and he was out of breath, just like you. He began thrusting out, and then back in, slow, lazy strokes, like he was still getting a feel for it, familiarising himself with your reactions and your body. But there was no time for slow, or careful.

“Holy shit” You mumbled, feeling like you’d pass out, “You can —You can go deeper, and faster too...please”

You had to make him feel good too. So you went back to work, wrapping your hand entirely around his cock. It was a different kind of feeling, to be doing this with all of your clothes still on. There was a small stain at the front of his sweatpants, and he was leaking already. The sight made you dizzy and crazy.

You brushed your thumb against his tip. He let out a moan, eyes fluttering shut, “Fuck. If you do that, I can’t focus on you” 

He then thrust another finger deep inside you, stretching you open, as if in retaliation.

Your mouth fell open in a moan, eyes squeezing shut, but you didn’t stop moving your hand over his cock, “But— but you’re distracting me”

You were both a mess of whimpers and moans, and he kept fingering you open, stretching you out. You’re sure his hand was dripping with your arousal, just like yours was covered in his pre-cum.

Hyunjin became impatient, bucking his hips for more friction, and you increased your pace too.  He whimpered, back arching, and cursed loudly, fucking himself into your hand. His hair was wet with sweat, sticking to his forehead, to his neck.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful” You told him, pressing your mouth to his.

He fingered you harder. 

Your vision was a blur, and all you could focus on was moving your hand over his length. Something about making him moan, while his fingers were buried inside you, was so fucking hot. He was too big in your hands, and you wanted him so bad. But you’d made an agreement, and you couldn’t fuck, no matter how tempting it was.

Time ticked so fast, slipping from within you.

“Are you close?” He whispered into your ear, finger fucking you slowly. It was far too much to handle. You squirmed in his grip, “Yeah. Go faster, please”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your lips and then increased his pace. You could hear how turned on you were, the wet sounds echoing through his room.

“It’d be easier without the jeans” He mumbled, fucking you open with just his fingers, frustrated at how the waistband restricted his movements. 

“Are you close too?” 

He hummed, “I’m so close. I could cum probably just from touching you”

His words shot another wave of arousal through you, and your core tightened around him, impossibly.

“Fuck — you just…got so tight. Did you like that?” He asked you.

You nodded, no coherent thought in your head.

“Shit, come here” He said, and he pulled your hand out of his sweatpants. You whined at the loss of contact, but he pulled you into his lap instead. His arm came around to hold you up, and you were sat right on his crotch.

“What about—” You went to ask, but he shut you up with a kiss. 

His hand slipped back inside your jeans, and he slid your panties to the side again, “Let me”

You nodded, putting your hands around his neck.

He was so hard under you, and experimentally he thrust up, the friction of you on him so much, and he breathed, “Shit. That feels...amazing”

Everything was spinning, except him, “Don’t stop”

“Remember what I told you?” He mumbled, hand gripping your hip, and you nodded. 

He’d taught you how to make him feel good, back when you were still in the Photobooth. So, you dragged yourself over his crotch, slowly. It was harder to do when his fingers were still inside you, but every little movement felt amplified. 

You didn’t care about anything but him, you didn’t need this to be slow, you didn’t need it to be careful. You just needed him, and that was perfect.

His head fell back, and you kissed messily, spit between your mouths. He was thrusting up into you, to the same pace that his fingers moved inside you. It seemed like that was really enough for him too. Every little contact drove you crazy, like it was your first time touching a boy, and his first time touching a girl. There was so much novelty in the way you two moved against each other, and no finesse. Everything was rushed, every kiss messy, each feeling intensified. 

You caressed the sides of his face, “I want you to fuck me, please”

His eyes widened, but he thrust up so hard at those words, “Y/N, we can’t”

“Please, just the...just the tip”

He kissed you, “I want to, so badly, but --”

“But what?”

He looked genuinely sorry, breaking away from the kiss, “I don’t have a...condom. I'm sorry”

Oh, the irony. You wanted to scream with agony, because you don’t think you’d ever wanted someone this bad before.

“I’m so sorry” He mumbled, kissing you again, but then his voice turned darker, “My fingers aren’t enough for you?”

You clenched, “No. No- they are”

He thrust both fingers in with so much pressure, stretching you open, “Is that better?”

You pressed your lips to his, wanting to kiss him through your orgasm, because your stomach was tightening and you were so close. Hyunjin deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, and he was suddenly so rough and intense but you absolutely loved that.

He was breathing heavy, eyes half-lidded and consumed with lust, just like you. His lips were so puffy, and swollen, thick and full, and so pink, and he was fingering you so perfectly. Your core tightened, and you pressed your mouth to his again, to let him kiss you because you felt so out of control.

“Wait— wait, I wanna look at you” He breathed, pushing both fingers in so deep, curling them just right. All it took was to look at him for you to completely let go. 

Stars dotted your vision, and you whimpered, your entire body trembling. 

“Hyun—” You buried your face in his neck, a white hot flash overtaking you, travelling from your core to your heart, to your head. 

He was still grinding against you, faster now, lips hovering over yours, chasing a high you’d both been denied for far too long. And just seconds after, he let out a long drawn out moan, hips twitching up into you, eyes squeezed shut as he cursed, “Fuck”

For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sounds of your breaths. 

He was breathing deeply, and his hair was drenched, sweat dripping down his face, and neck and chest.

He opened his eyes. You wanted to cuddle up in his arms and go to sleep. From the look on his face, he wanted the same. You stared at each others state, and slowly he pulled his hand out of your jeans. Sweat trickled down his chin. It sparkled like glitter. You traced his jawline with your hands, soaking up the sweat into your skin.

You didn’t say anything, but he wrapped his arms tighter around your body. You gripped the front of his shirt, squeezing it in your grip. His heart was beating so fast. 

“You okay?” He asked you, his voice so gentle.

You hummed, and you felt drained, but you felt exhilarated too.

His hand rubbed your back, soothing you.

You tilt your head at him, “You?”

A smile pulled at his lips, “Yeah. I’m okay”

You traced his pecs through the shirt, not wanting him to leave. It was criminal for this feeling to end, and for this pleasure to not be yours everyday. Nothing had ever felt this good, and even in your post-coital haze, you wanted him more. 

So you blurted, “What if I did it anyway?”

“Did what?”

“What if…I moved to Seoul anyway? Maybe I could go there first…and look for a job later. I know it’s crazy and impulsive but I’ve always wanted to live there and—”

You trailed off, at his expression.

“Do you think it’s a stupid idea or something?” You chewed on your lower lip.

Hyunjin’s eyes followed that movement, and his thumb traced your mouth, “No …it’s not stupid at all. It’s what you’ve wanted for a few years, right?”

“It sounds crazy and impulsive…because I don’t even have a plan of what I’ll do, but maybe...that doesn’t matter”

Before he could speak up, his phone buzzed against the nightstand.

He glanced at it, and then to you.

Just at that minute, you heard the cab pull up. Hyunjin sighed, closing his eyes, and you got off his lap. He peeked through the blinds, “Fuck. He’s here”

“I should leave” You stood, gathering your things. There was no time to ask for his opinion anymore. Maybe he didn’t want to tell you it was a batshit insane idea.

“Hold on” He handed you his sweatshirt, the one that had dried by now, “It’s a cold walk out. You sure you’ll make it home safe?”

“Don’t worry about me” You told him, squeezing his sweatshirt in your hands, feeling silly for blurting out such a spontaneously dumb idea that made it very obvious how much you loved him.

A car door opened outside, and his manager must have stepped out. It was almost four in the morning. You were going to be leaving through the back. 

His manager couldn’t see you here. 

You’d already said your goodbyes, in the only way you knew how to.

You stepped out onto the patio, but Hyunjin grabbed your arm, urgency in his tone, “You should do it, Y/N”

You turned, confused, “Do what?”

The doorbell rang.

Hyunjin spoke quickly, “What you were just talking about. Even if you didn’t get into the program you wanted, you should move there. To Seoul”

Your eyes widened, tears filling up suddenly, and you quickly pulled him into another hug, and he stumbled into your embrace, “Thank you for saying that. I think it’d feel less scary with you there”

His lips brushed against your ear, “It’s the least I can do. Being here was less scary for me, only because of you”

He kissed you a rushed goodbye, but for the first time that night, your heart didn’t hurt anymore.

»»————-

Your morning passed in a daze. 

Time wasn’t real, as you lay on your bed, counting down the seconds until his train. Minutes stretched into hours into seconds, and you must have been more tired than you thought, because you woke up to drool on your pillow. 

The sun told you it was the afternoon. 

You’d fallen asleep in the clothes you wore to the drive-in theater. Your underwear was still wet, and reminded you of him. You were smiling to yourself like a crazy person, as you dressed yourself for work, and you put his sweatshirt on. It smelled just like him, and as you walked to work, the grass and the birds and the houses all remind you of him. 

Was it possible to fall even more in love with someone?

You were distracted, often drifting into thoughts of his moans, of the sensation of his hand in your pants, but it was frustrating because the man of your affections was moving miles away from you by the minute.

Hyunjin’s first text came at a precarious time.

You had been packing a pink acrylic canister for a customer, and the pings of your phone were so distinctive, you instantly knew it was him. It had to be Hyunjin, he must have already reached home, and you had to hold back an urge to text him back.

The phone buzzed incessantly against the glass countertop, and the lady in front of you raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry” You apologised for the ringing, “I forgot to put it on silent”

She didn’t really seem to care, “Can I try a paint swatch of the pink before you pack it up?”

“Of course” You unscrewed the cap, dipping a stray paintbrush into it, so you could show her how it showed up on paper, “Is that good?”

“Um, do you have a brighter one perhaps? I don’t think my daughter needs this one” 

You nodded, glancing behind her, “I think it’s in the third aisle”

A few more pings from your phone caught your attention.

It startled you, making you squeeze the bottle in your hands, and pink paint dripped onto your fingers and the countertop.

“Shit” You mumbled, wiping it clean with a tissue.

The customer was still busy browsing the aisles, and Mrs. Aera would be less than pleased to see you using your phone on your job, but…

It was just for a minute.

hyun

heyy

shit im sorry i couldn’t call earlier

It’s been crazy

but i just got to my dorm

i just wanted to let you know i made it 

and i was planning to paint in the train journey over, but i totally passed out lol

you

hey :)

I was just thinking of you

im so glad youre home safe <3

that sounds like something i would do ngl

keep me updated!

tell me everything in detail later please im dying

hyun

sent a photo

can you tell they missed me a lot

It was a picture of him at a stairwell, surrounded by three boys you’d come to recognise as Chan, Changbin and Jisung. They were smiling wide, teeth on display and Changbin was making a kissing face toward’s Hyunjin’s cheek, lips pouted and ready. 

Jisung was pulling at Hyunjin’s other cheek, and Chan was laughing to the side, eyes closed in pretty crescents. 

you 

they’re adorable lmao

did changbin actually kiss u haha?

In the picture you literally look like a kid embarrassed by his parents  

hyun 

they won’t let go of me ever since im back

and yeah changbin even insisted on sleeping in my bed tonight..?

i had to reassure them im not going away anytime soon 

but its sweet

what are you up to?

i hope you weren’t too tired for work 

“This pink seems like a good shade, does it not?” The customer brought you back to reality, placing a canister on the counter, and her gaze fell to the stained countertop, “What happened to your hands?”

Your screen was now tainted with pink fingerprint stains, but you didn’t care, smiling at the texts you just received. Maybe things would be okay, even when he was gone.

»»————-

 The first time he called you from the city, was when you were at the diner, and you almost fumbled your latte at the ringing. 

Seonmi raised a questioning eyebrow as you pushed your coffee cup aside.

You picked up faster than lightning. 

“Hi” You spoke, into your phone, sounding just a little out of breath.

“Hey” His voice sent shooting stars through your heart, igniting you with a newfound energy at only eight in the morning. It was hoarse, and smooth at the same time.

You’d only been texting each other the past few days, he’d been rightfully swept into the whirlwind of his life, and you’d been dying to know how he’d been. He’d given you little updates, about how it felt to move back in, to get back to his job, at how he was welcomed back by his fans so grandly. 

You’d watched his return on the news — the number of people who were there to greet him at the train station was insane, and you’d felt so proud of him. He told you that they had to close a major exit of the station, just because the company hadn’t expected that many people to show up. 

It was the first time you’d physically seen the impact he had, and it didn’t surprise you at all. People with pictures of him, banners, and slogans and signs in every language just to welcome him back from his hiatus.

He was so loved by so many people.

It’d be selfish to want to keep him just to yourself.

“Are you outside?”

“I was just grabbing coffee” You explained, pressing your phone to your ear to drown out the sounds of the diner. 

“Man, I miss The Grove’s coffee”

You twirled the cup in your hands, smiling, “It misses you too”

“I thought I’d call you when I had time. I’m headed straight to the studio after this. Guess what? The stylists love what I did with my hair, apparently the blonde is an old trend now anyway, and now they want to capture this while it’s still fresh”

You laughed, “What? You mean the cheap haircut you gave yourself?”

He chuckled, “Mmh. Something about it is raw, and apparently perfect for my comeback”

You spun on your chair, “Well, they certainly know how to make the best of a situation” 

“We’re recording till late tonight. With the new album, we’re on the clock almost all the time. We have just under two weeks to finish producing it”

“For the entire album? Is that enough?”

“It has to be” He said, “I don’t mind. It’s what I live for”

You bit your lip, anticipation coursing through you, “Can I hear it anytime soon?”

He grinned, “You’ll be the first one”

He kept his promise. 

That night, he sent you a video. 

It’s a snippet of him in the studio, and you keel at the thumbnail before you’ve even opened it. His hair was messy, like he’s straight out of bed before recording, and bulky headphones sat around his neck. 

You hear someone counting down in the background, and you wonder if that’s Chan, his producers, or someone else to help with the process. The instrumental is muted, so it’s just Hyunjin singing the backing vocals.

Eyes squeezed shut, he’s lost in the verse of the song. The cadence and tone of his voice so distinctly different from when he speaks. It’s sassy, and it’s harsh, and the cleanest rap you ever heard.

You stared in awe, earphones plugged in, sat behind the cash counter in your break, and then you watched it again, and again, until you’re called back to your shift.

You think about the video all the while you’re at the store, and you called him as soon as you’re out.

“You were so good, the verse has been stuck in my head for hours and you sound cocky as fuck, but it’s not an annoying cocky. How do you even do that?” You were belting out compliments for minutes now, and Hyunjin sat at the other end, accepting them with flushed cheeks. He was so shy right now, a stark contrast to his singing personality. 

“Stop. You make me sound better than I am. You should…be telling me to get better” He complained.

You laughed, “You’re literally already perfect at it”

“When you visit me, I’ll get you access to the studio. You can watch me record it in real time” He suggested.

The thought excites you, and you imagine watching him from the couch, through the observation window.

You imagine him coming out of the booth to take a break, all sweaty and exhausted, and he would put an arm around you. 

Perhaps you’re influenced by far too many 80s movies. Still, you imagine excessively making out with him in the recording studio until his assistants have to physically pull you off each other.

Yeah, considering the industry he’s in, that could never happen.

Over the next few days, he also sends you videos from the dance studio, and all of your feelings for him build on top of each other, like a Jenga tower destined to fall. Every day that passes, a new block is added, and you don’t know how lucky you had to be to bump into him in your life.

He dances just like he kisses, with purpose and intensity, a certain romance behind his moves, and you become guilty of obsessively rewatching the clips he sends you, finding new details every time. 

He wears simple sweatpants to the studio, and he ties his hair up into a bun, and all you want is to be there to kiss his sweat away, and reward him after his long days of work. 

It feels silly to fantasize about caring for him, like you’re a seventies housewife, but you can’t help it. You want to massage the knots from his back, brush the tangles out of his hair, and kiss him between every dance practice. 

You realise how much he’s taken over your life and thoughts, even when he’s miles away. You don’t tell him all of this, but some days you can’t help but blurt your thoughts out.

“You’re messing with me every time you send me another video” You complain to him, “How do you contain all of that talent in a singular body?”

He laughs, but he doesn’t stop. He sends you selfies of him every day from the practice room, and he’s always glistening with sweat in them, throwing up a cheesy peace sign, and it’s your new favourite picture, until he sends you another the very next day.

You sit on your bedroom floor, fiddling with the strings of your hoodie as you talk to him, “What’s your schedule like right now?”

He’s at the headquarters of a high-end international magazine, in the waiting room as he talks to you. You can’t help but feel special that he takes out this time for you, “Well, I stay in the recording studio till late, and when I’m home…I’m trying to paint as much as I can before passing the fuck out. I just started a few days ago but it helps me destress. It gives me time to think about what happened in my day. It’s so…cathartic”

You smiled, so glad he found time to paint again, “Are you cheating on Aera’s with that art shop in Hongdae?”

He laughed, “Yeah. The cashier’s pretty cute here too”

You roll your eyes, “Funny…I hope you’re still making time to eat”

“Yeah, Jisung is my self-appointed manager for the moment. They’re smothering me with love”

“What, he cooks for you?”

“God no, he’d burn the dorm down. He just gets me my favourite takeout. Man, I missed takeout so much I didn’t even realise. There’s a Thai place down the street, and I’m basically surviving on it”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, Daejon isn’t boujee enough for a Thai restaurant”

He giggled, “I miss the hilltop bakery, although Chan introduced me to this cake shop. It opened just a month ago, it’s some European franchise but fuck if it isn’t the best pastries I’ve had”

You laughed, “It seems like you’re really enjoying yourself”

“Yeah. Everything’s really good”

“Yeah?” You stretch your legs out on your bedroom floor, and as you talk to him, you’ve been sketching in your notepad too, “How are the boys?”

He falls quieter, “Well…Jisung is still dealing with the fallout and backlash from that article. Did I ever tell you my company sued the media outlets who leaked the private information about him? All of his therapy notes and everything?”

“Yeonjun told me that there was some court case” You admitted, heart feeling heavy, “How’s that going?”

“It’s exhausting. There’s so many legal proceedings, but I have hope that Jisung will win the case”

You don’t know too much about this works, “Do you have to testify too?”

“If it comes to that, I will. Jisung wants me to stay out of that spotlight though. He says I’ve already been through enough with my hiatus”

You nod, “Then that’s probably for the best”

“I have to be careful though. The media seems to have a personal vendetta against us right now”

“God. That must be scary. Just take care of yourself”

“I am. Don’t worry. But the other day it was crazy, they surrounded our dorm and it made it impossible to leave”

Your eyes widen, “That doesn’t sound too safe. Can’t the company do something?”

He nods, “Our managers take care of it, but not much else can be done. The area outside our dorm is a public space. Legally, anybody can hang out there, and nothing can stop them from waiting for us”

You sighed, putting down your pencil, “You’re a saint for going through all of this, for your job”

He let out a bitter laugh, “It is my life, so I’m kind of used to it”

“That’s crazy” You mumble.

He nodded, “Hold on. They’re calling me in for the fitting now”

Your eyes widened, the prospect of him dressed up exciting you already, “Did they already show you the outfits you have to wear?”

He hummed, “They told me the theme too. You’ll love it.”

“Tell me”

He laughed, “I gotta go”

“Wait, what?” You protest, but he hangs up before telling you.

The pictures arrived at an unassuming time, catching you off guard.

Hyunjin had sent you ten different photos. You’d been wondering what the theme could have been for the past few hours, but it became very obvious as you scrolled through them all.

2000s fashion. 

Of fucking course.

In the first photo that you see, he was in a cropped jacket, the fabric shimmering under the changing room lights. His phone was held in front of his face, hiding his features and his hair was pushed back by a hairband. He still managed to make it look so sexy.

You stopped everything you were doing, scrolling through the myriad of pictures and outfits he’d bombarded you with.

The denim jeans fit snugly on his hips, patchwork across the thighs. 

You scrolled to the last one, and the jacket was unzipped. You realised why he’d said you would love it. He revealed a cropped baby blue t-shirt, with rhinestones across the hem. The shirt rose enough to show his bellybutton piercing and clenched abs.

You held your breath, staring at the pictures. A thin choker adorned his neck too, and he was slightly smirking in the picture.

He wanted you dead.

you:

wow.

hyun

is that all?

the photoshoot just ended so im going back

you:

i don’t really know what else to say

you look really fucking hot…like you’re so gorgeous in that

the outfit is…perfect on you

but i can’t imagine you ever wearing it here

it’s not your style, right?

hyun:

haha 

you know me so well

i really hate crop tops lol

but …

you

but?

hyun

i know you too :)

so i took a picture just for you

He sent it to you, making your heart stop.

In it, he was sat on the fitting room bench, legs spread. But this time…the rhinestone choker wasn’t around his neck anymore.

It was held between his teeth. 

It was so fucking sexy, you sat up in bed, staring at it, a feeling shooting through your body. You have to remind yourself how to breathe. You don’t reply for a few minutes, and he texts you again.

hyun

what, you have nothing to say now?

He’s so fucking cocky, but it makes you dizzy.

you

i hate you for that picture

hyun 

haha

i knew you’d love it 

»»————-

The next few days were a blur, and you felt a frenzied mess, like you were falling in love with him all over again. 

Hyunjin in Daejon was…a sweetheart, but Hyunjin in Seoul…was a fucking menace. 

You don’t know what it was that changed.

He’d tease you more often, exuding a calm confidence that tortured you at nights. 

Even though you couldn’t talk to him as often, the moments that you did were special. He’d send you pictures, snippets of his day, voice messages about how the album was going or random things the boys did at the dorm.

You lived through him.

In turn, you sent him parts of your life.

The way the sunset set perfectly against the Creek, the exorbitantly rich guests at the Château that were dressed to the nines, the sketches you drew and left unfinished but still sent him.

You found out through Seungmin that Hyunjin had donated all of his leftover paints to The Château, which were worth hundreds of dollars, just so they wouldn’t go to waste while he was away. You were once again, struck by how kind he was to have thought of that.

On mundane nights, he’d send you audio recordings of their unreleased songs, pictures from the studio of him, headphones slung around his neck, tired and weary eyes.

You tried to keep each other updated, not that there was much happening in your life at the moment. Still, you’d send him pictures of you with Yeonjun, of the store, of his favourite order at the diner. 

Every notification, every ping on your phone would send lightning through your veins, knowing it was him on the other end. 

In the days that followed, you heard his voice less, and instead read about his day in wrapped-up summary text messages, paragraphs that flowed for hours, leaving you to scroll through your phone. You’d make it a habit to sit in your favourite booth in the diner, as your paper straw turned soggy in the milkshake, you’d type out every single one of your thoughts. 

Vicariously, he lived through it too.

Your texts with him flowed like a personal diary, a newsletter on all the gossip in Daejon. You told him about the time you bumped into Hana at the diner, and she smiled at you, and you didn’t know what to do.

Somehow, he feels guilty for the rift between you and her, but you tell him it’s not his fault. If your friendship could be broken up by just a boy, it clearly wasn’t strong enough.

But then the next time you see her at the diner, she comes and sits across you.

You’re so shocked that you can barely process it, and she seems unsure too.

“Is there something wrong?” You asked her.

“Does something have to be wrong for me to talk to you?” She replied.

You shrugged, “Considering the last time we spoke—”

“I heard Hyunjin left town. Are you okay?”

You frown, feeling defensive, “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You two were close” She stated, obviously, “Everybody in town knows that”

Maybe it’s your closeness with Hyunjin that makes you feel brave.

You want to say something mean. 

You want to say something honest. 

Everybody in town also thinks he cheated on her with you, after everything she said at the Lakehouse party. 

After she yelled at you in front of everyone.

But you’re past that, so you don’t say it.

“I don’t really care what everybody in town thinks”

It’s tamer than what you had in mind, but it has the same intended effect.

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she’s clearly not expecting that response.

“That doesn’t sound like you” She finally said.

“Yeah, well maybe you don’t know who I am anymore. You haven’t talked to me in months”

“I’m sorry. Yeonjun coming back to town threw me off the loop. You know I never got over him”

“That doesn’t mean you can just take it out on me. I told you that night that…that I got rejected from an apprenticeship I’ve always wanted. You didn’t even ask me about that”

She sighed, running her hands through her hair, “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t really know what you want me to say. I’m not gonna apologise for being upset”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do, Hana” 

“Then what are even saying? It’s been weeks since that fight. I thought you’d moved on from it”

You stare at her. The innocence in her big eyes, the curls in her hair, the princess corset top she had on. It doesn’t affect you anymore. You used to get so hurt by the things she said. So personally offended. You want to confront her, and tell her about it. You want her to know that she hurt you, but you’re so sick of drama, and of confrontations.

Right now, you feel past it. 

The past few months and all of the things she said still hurt you, and maybe one day you can make things up with her. You just don’t think that day is today.

So you stood up, and she stared at you, confused.

Grabbing your bag and sketchbook, you mumbled, “You’re right, Hana. I have moved on from this”

»»————-

One day, Hyunjin sends you a new painting he worked on.

It’s a vase of flowers. Dahlia.  

It’s rendered beautifully. The shadows, the texture of the petals, and the lighting on the glass.

“When do you even get the time?” As soon as he called you, you asked him, “You’re getting so much better, Hyunjin. I’m serious, like the art you made here…this is already on another level from that”

He smiled, “Are you proud of me?”

“Of course”

“Can you tell me how I can get better?”

You don’t feel too worthy of sharing your knowledge, and you tell him that. After all, you’re not an expert or anything. 

He shuts you down instantly.

“You’ve been painting since before you could talk” He replied, “I want your opinion, Y/N”

You sighed, staring at the picture, “I think your shadows are getting better. Have you tried using a wider brush for the water, with thick bristles? I think the ripples will blend much easier”

“Really?” He asked, “I think right now, it looks too fake somehow”

“Yeah, but I think that’s because you’ve drawn out every wave and the lines are too sharp. Try blending the edges so it fades naturally, okay?”

“Okay, I’m gonna try that this weekend”

“I’m really glad you make time to paint, Hyunjin”

He laughed, “It’s a necessity. I lose myself in it, and it’s just me and the canvas for all those hours. Nothing else matters”

“Sounds familiar” You smiled, “Maybe one day, if you have time, we can paint on video call together”

And then he called you that very weekend.

The computer screen illuminated your face and his, as you painted in the dead of the night. You were set up in your bedroom, an assortment of paintbrushes and watercolours surrounding you. You painted with your fingers, often getting distracted by Hyunjin across the screen. 

His space was cleaner, more organised because he had less space to work with. A bag of chips lay at your side and you pushed your hand into it, lazily munching on it as you watched him frown over a color choice. 

“I think you’re going to love the song I’m working on with Chan” He said, after a while.

“Yeah?” 

“It’s…a sexy, contemporary kind of R&B. I can imagine you liking it”

You only have one, predictable question, “When can I hear it?” 

He laughed, “We’re still writing it”

You hummed, focusing on blending the ocean in your canvas, dabbing at your canvas to experiment with a new style. You savour the moments, because he hardly has this time.

“Can I say something cheesy?” He asked, and you look up to see that he’s sipping on some drink. A fancy cocktail that Chan probably made him. In the back, you can see his bed, and his things, and you wish you can see his room in Seoul. 

You want to know what he decorates it with, and what clutter he has there.

“Yeah?”

The way he’s leaning over his webcam, you can see into his shirt. The navy button-up is loose, and the top few buttons are undone. The sleeves are rolled up, which was probably a good decision since his arms are stained with pink paint. His hands are busier too, with more rings and more bracelets on them.

Hyunjin’s more boujee in the city too.

His cheeks are suddenly red as he confesses, “When I get stuck in the middle of the writing process, I think of you, and it really helps”

You sat up on your knees, cherishing this new bit of information, “What do you think about?”

He flushed, “You know…just our time together. Chan teases me about it. He says you’re my muse or whatever”

He doesn’t say much more, but he’s so shy so you don’t ask. You don’t react as much as you want to either. You want to jump, or scream, or kick your feet giggling. 

It’s a moment you etch into your brain forever.

You’re his muse, and it’s fitting because he’s always been yours.

As the hour passed, your focus grew, and you almost forgot he was on the other side. Almost.

Hyunjin is focused too, and he’s humming a familiar tune. The call lasts for over two hours, and it’s the most you’ve talked to him recently. 

When you’re both done, you show him your canvas; he shows you his, and you marvel at his improvement. He’s painted a beautiful lighthouse, ocean waves crashing into the rocks, and he explained every color choice to you. 

You could hear him talk about his art forever, and you sit in awe, as he expressed his reasoning behind every aspect. He’s gotten so much better at art, and he’s really a prodigy. 

You then do the same, lifting your canvas up to show him the landscape, and he leans in really close to the camera, eyes wide as he takes it in.

“That’s beautiful” He mumbles, still staring at your painting, “I don’t know how you do it so well every time”

You smiled, because art was your favourite thing in the world, and Hyunjin complimenting it made your heart swell.

He was suddenly smiling, and he said, “I…also visited an art gallery last week. I met someone” 

Your eyebrows shot up, and your smile fell so fast.

People only said that in one specific context. When they were into someone.

“You met someone?”

“Yeah” Hyunjin smiled, “She’s…this prodigy. Chan introduced me to her, she’s so young and she’s actually the owner of the entire place and guess what she said to me?”

You didn’t want to know.

“I don’t know” You replied, hoping your indifference wasn’t visible.

“She said one day I could display my own work up there. Isn’t that fucking insane? I mean, I just started out with art”

“How does she know your work?” 

He didn’t comment on your lack of excitement, but he just said, “Oh, Chan showed it to her. I was embarrassed, but it was worth it”

“That’s really nice of her” 

He nodded, “Yeah. She was really sweet. And oh! The reason I’m telling you this was because she used to intern for Kim Jieong, maybe she can help you out with the--”

“No, it’s okay” You’re quick to interrupt.

He then asked why you haven’t applied to another apprenticeship again. 

You put aside your paint supplies, you’d lost motivation anyway. You dragged your laptop onto your bed, as you told him, “I told you. I’m not really confident, and I’m not looking forward to another rejection”

He stopped you before you can continue, “You’ve got nothing to lose then. Please, at least try. For me”

He’s sleepy, and his eyes kept closing, but he stayed up just to convince you.

You sighed, “Fine. I’ll apply, but don’t expect anything, please. You’ll be disappointed”

“You could never disappoint me” 

»»————-

Your days unfolded with a slow pace, summer fading away into the months of autumn. 

You found solace in your friends — in movie nights with Minho, in spending time with Yeonjun before he had to go back to work. After all, there was only so long he could be on vacation for. He had to go back to where he belonged. 

It was easier to not miss Hyunjin when you were occupied, busy with your endless shifts, navigating between finding time to paint but also to enjoy the leftovers of summer. 

The night they finished recording the album, Hyunjin called you drunk.

You’d seen him tipsy on a few occasions, but never like this.

He was laughing about something when you picked up, talking to other people at the party. The background was loud, and you struggle to hear anything. 

“Hyun?” 

“Guess what?” He asked you.

“What?”

“We finished the album. Like, for real. Every track is actually ready” He announced, and you hear a cacophony of sounds in the background, “We’re at my manager’s apartment, all of us, and the whole crew. It feels so fucking good”

“Congratulations” You smile, “That’s…really cool”

“Jisung made me drink…far too much” He giggled, “I liked the wine though, Chan found it in this cool store but then me and Binnie…we did body shots, and guess what? Chan fucking did body shots too! It was so insane. He also invited the girl from the art gallery, which is so funny. Apparently, she has connections in our industry too. She’s the daughter of --” 

“Wait, you did body shots?” You interrupted him, not really wanting to hear about the very successful artist prodigy girl in his life.

“It was insane. Just like Seungmin told us”

You could tell he was walking around the room, because he’d randomly trail off and talk to someone.

The more he rambled on the other side of the phone, the more you wished you were by his side. He must be standing near the speakers, because suddenly his voice would get drowned out by the music.

“I…can’t hear you, Hyun” You spoke, snuggling into your blanket. 

Your bed was the stark contrast of where he was right now; in a room full of pounding music, and you wondered what kind of parties they even had, or how wild they were. If they did body shots, they must already be pretty wild.

“Sorry” He apologised, walking off to a quieter area, “Can you hear me now?”

“Yeah, I can”

“Fuck. I miss you so fucking much” He suddenly mumbled, voice dropping, “Why aren’t you here?”

“I miss you too” Your heart squeezed, “But you should get back to the party—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Is that Y/N?” A loud voice interrupted, and you heard a loud struggle on the other end, making you pull back from the phone.

“Give me the phone back, Changbin!” Hyunjin yelled.

You sat up in bed, “Hello?”

“Hey!” Changbin’s voice was louder than you expected, and he sounded really drunk too, “You must be the girl who stole him away from us for months and months. I have every reason to hate you”

“Stop!” Hyunjin spoke in the background, “Don’t announce it to the entire party”

“Now you’ve taken him back though” You replied to Changbin.

“Eh, you’re right” He laughed, “So tell me, on a scale of 1 to 10—”

“Changbin, give me my phone back!” Hyunjin sounded exasperated, and you could imagine them running after each other.

“Let me finish!” He groaned, and then his voice became clearer again, “On a scale of 1-10, how big of a dumbass is Hwang Hyunjin for—?”

“Fuck. Is that her?” Another person interrupted in the background, and you felt overwhelmed by the multitude of voices. 

“Jisung, can you please ask him to give me my phone back?” Hyunjin sounded annoyed now, voice further.

“I’m sorry, this prick won’t let me talk to you for five whole minutes!” Changbin apologised, and you’d never met him but his energy seemed exactly like you’d imagined.

Still, you could hear Jisung in the background, struggling after the phone, and it made you feel special. They were miles away at a fucking album party, but gave their attention to you.

“Is that Hyunjin’s girlfriend?”

Your eyes widened at the word.

Hyunjin’s frustrated drawl interrupted, further away from the speaker but you still heard it, “Stop, Jisung. She’s just my friend. How many times do I have to say that, and don’t announce it to the party!”

Your smile faded, stupidly. He was right. 

“Then I can have her?” Changbin interrupted.

There was another scuffle, until Hyunjin was at the phone again, “Hey, I’m so sorry. They…took you hostage”

A breathy chuckle followed, drowned out by his friends laughs in the background.

“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it” You fiddled with your blanket, “You should enjoy the party, Hyun”

“No, no, I called you because I missed you”

“I can’t really even hear you” You spoke, “We can just talk tomorrow. Please just have a good time tonight, okay?”

“All right. I’ll call you later” Hyunjin spoke, like he was distracted by someone.

“Who are you talking to you?” An unknown voice interrupted, and you guessed they were probably talking to Hyunjin.

And you heard Hyunjin mumble, “Nobody” before he hung up.

You laid back in bed, and it was too quiet, and you felt lonelier than ever.

»»————-

Fallen leaves drifted in the pool, from the canopy up above. One drifts towards you, and you picked it up in your hands, watching the water seep through the half-eaten leaf. It’s orange.

“The leaves are already changing color…or is it just me?”

“It’s just you” Minho answered, and you roll your eyes.

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” He asked, swimming over to you, “The rest of the party is over there”

“I’m not really interested in playing” You told him, looking over to where everyone indulged in a pool volleyball game.

“So you’re out here looking at leaves. God, I’m lucky to be your best friend”

“Shut up” You shove him, and he laughs, falling into the water.

As soon as he resurfaces, he splashes you.

“Don’t be annoying, Minho” You mumbled, rubbing the saltwater out from your eyes.

“You’re no fun” He grumbles, and lays on his back to float in the water.

You stare at the leaves floating around you again, drifting into a pattern, and a sole flower is in between them. A dahlia.

“Can’t believe summer is almost over” You remark.

“You sure made the most of it though, Y/N” He smiled, eyes squinting against the bright overhead sun. You don’t respond, and he lifts his head to look at you.

“What?” He asked, “You can’t deny that it’s the most eventful summer we’ve ever had”

You peered down at your nails, the paint was chipping off, “Right. Losing my best friends sure is memorable”

“You didn’t lose them, Y/N”

You gestured to the space around you, that usually would be occupied by Hana or Felix, “I don’t see them here”

Minho sighed, swimming closer to you, “What’s got you in such a mood?”

You shook your head, feeling silly for feeling this way, “Nothing” 

He rolled his eyes, “Tell me”

You sighed, fixing the straps of your bikini to avoid looking him in the eye, “Hana tried to talk to me a few days ago. She wanted to fix things, but I didn’t. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“Do you feel like a horrible person?”

You looked up at him, “No. I…chose my peace over another fight. I think I made the right decision”

“You knew the answer to that already, Y/N. Then what is bothering you?”

“Fine. Hyunjin called me last night, from the release party” 

“And that’s a bad thing…why?”

“Not really, I guess it put things into perspective. He’s…out there being successful and celebrating that success, and I’m here, doing absolutely nothing.”

“You’re at a pool party with me. That’s not nothing”

“You know what I mean” You sighed, leaning against the pool wall, “He’s probably even going to display his stuff at an art gallery soon. Some girl fell in love with his art…and he’s always busy…in a totally insane location, or doing something so fucking cool, and I’m in the stupid art shop”

His texts have been less than frequent. You understand, because he’s swamped with work. The press tour has been underway for a week now, and if he wasn’t at some fancy magazine building, he was probably holed up in the studio for re-recordings. There’s still time till the album's release, and if you know anything about the band, they’re perfectionists. They’ll work themselves to the bone, till the end.

“Well, yeah. He’s…an idol, with a crazy fucking life. You’re living a normal life. He would probably give everything to exchange places with you, and not have anything to do”

“I guess you’re right” You realised, and you glance up to see Yeonjun.

He’s laughing loudly, sunglasses on his head, as he throws the ball to the other team. He’s leaving soon, and this pool party is a going away gift. After all, he’s the only one of your friends with a pool. Yeonjun looks happy, and beautiful in the sun. It was low-key, exactly like Yeonjun wanted it, and you’re so glad Minho and him are on talking terms again.

“And I don’t believe you. That’s not why you’re upset” Minho spoke, blocking the boy from your view.

“Why can’t you just take my word for it?”

“Because I know when you’re lying to me. So tell me, what’s got you being so bitchy to your only friend within 35 miles?”

“Ouch!” He yelled, when you pushed him again.

“Stop being a smartass”

“You’ve been floating on cloud nine the past few weeks, what’s wrong now?”

You stare back at Yeonjun, as he dives to retrieve his sunglasses, and his other friends are teasing him.

“I never told you but I applied to an apprenticeship in the city” You blurted.

Minho’s eyebrows shot up, “What? Today?”

“No…a few months ago. At the start of summer” 

His brows were furrowed, confused, “Oh”

“That’s kind of why I’ve been working all these jobs…so I could save up one day and move to the city”

He swam closer to you, “Why are you telling me this now?”

You shrugged, and the water feels nice and calm around you, “I thought you’d hate me for it”

He’s quiet for a few minutes, “That’s not true. I’d like to think I’ve grown from when Yeonjun left. I mean I’m at his party right now. Isn’t that saying a lot?”

You smiled at him, “That’s probably why I’m telling you now”

Minho laughed, “So did you get it?”

“Nope” You sighed, “I wasn’t good enough for it”

“What, so you’ve given up already?”

You frowned, “No, but I’m still waiting on them to hear back. I contacted them again regarding my application”

Minho smiled, “Hyunjin knows, right?”

“Yeah”

“Of course he knows. You tell him literally everything. I’m gonna have to fight him one day”

You laughed, “I’d pay to see that”

He reaches forward, picking out a leaf stuck in your hair, “You really miss him, huh?”

“I hate texting him. It’s so impersonal and distant”

“Have you video-called him?”

You sighed, “Through my shitty computer screen, yeah”

“I think you need a vacation, Y/N” He laughs.

“I’ve been on vacation, like for months”

“No, I mean a vacation, away from your job, away from Daejon. Just go see him”

Your eyes widen and you looked at him, “Isn’t that a bit crazy? I mean, we’re not dating”

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in to float, “The day you stop worrying about what other people think, is the day you’ll live a much better life, Y/N”

He then begins talking about other things, but his words stick in your head, and an idea begins to form.

»»————-

You help Yeonjun pack, and on his last night in town, you sit on his couch again, talking about everything that was. He tells you of his consistent fights with Hana, and his efforts to rekindle their relationship which went in vain. It’s strange to think he came back to town, just to make things right with her.

He tells you that him and Hana have grown apart, and perhaps they were never meant to be together. 

He says that he’s letting Hana go, and it’s a bittersweet moment which you drink to. 

You think nothing could make you let go of Hyunjin.

When you get really tipsy, you fantasise of him even more, and scroll back through your chats, reading his old texts, smiling to yourself. Yeonjun catches you, and calls you a hopeless romantic, and you’ve never thought of yourself that way, but it rings true. 

You both lay in bed, and you talk until he has to go, and you realise how much you hate goodbyes.

»»————-

The next time Hyunjin texted you, you were sat at the steps of the art shop, waiting for the rain to pass. 

hyun

hey

sorry ive been filming all day

you

ohh, what have you been filming?

didn’t the album recording finish last week?

hyun

ah no the press tour is still left 

you

oh right, sorry I have no idea how this stuff works lol

hyun

right now we’re doing some promo content for a teen magazine 

after this we still need to go to a music video shoot

It’s for an american talk show

isn’t that crazy?

you

wow…

you’re going to be so popular

but i hope you can get some sleep

hyun

we’re filming till 4 am tonight

i doubt it

what are you up to?

you

um im stuck at aeras because of the rain :/

i always forget to carry an umbrella

hyun

you miss me?

You stared at the text, tears inexplicably filling your eyes, and you don’t know why.

It had only been a few weeks since he was gone, yet it felt like he was drifting away.

Of course you missed him.

You missed him an insane amount, and ever since he’d been gone, you’d been going through the motions of daily life, not even really enjoying anything.

He was so far away. 

You’d tried to not let the sadness overtake you, because it was silly and childish.

You missed his calming voice, and his hand in yours, and the taut string of tension between you every time you met.

You missed the uncertainty of Hyunjin.

The not-knowing.

With him, you could never tell. It could be a mundane afternoon, until it wasn’t. Until his hands were around you, and you were kissing, and you knew it was so wrong to be attached to that.

Your phone buzzed, and he was calling you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hey” You mumbled, your voice softer and shakier than you intended.

“Is everything okay…?”

“Yeah” You swallowed, “Sorry, I was just about to reply”

“No, don’t worry. I just got worried. I thought—” He trailed off.

“What did you think?”

“I thought I crossed a boundary…or something”

You paused, trying to comprehend his words. All he’d done was ask you if you missed him. How could that be a boundary when you and Hyunjin had said so much more? Done so much more? 

Was missing each other not even okay anymore? Was it too much for him?

Another sob threatened to break at the implication.

“Y/N? Are you still there?” He asked, voice soft and calm, not knowing the storm it brewed inside you.

You mumbled, “Yes, I’m here”

“Okay” He spoke, letting you breathe.

“I’m sorry, I just…I guess I miss you more than I thought I would” You admitted, hoping it wouldn’t be too much for him. That it wouldn’t push him away.

“Oh” 

“Yeah”

“I…miss you too, Y/N” 

It calmed your racing heart.

“I wish I could see you” You fumbled through the words, “It’d make me feel so much…better”

Hyunjin was quiet for a while, “I’m sorry”

“It’s…not your fault” A smile graced your lips, because he had no reason to apologise for your lives being so separate from each other.

“It is. I’m sorry I’ve been away…I got really caught up with everything here. Seeing my friends again, having this life back, it was more overwhelming than I thought. But don’t worry…I’m doing really well here”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been painting a lot more when I’m free, or when I’ve had a horrible day”

Your heart clenched at his tone, and the implication that it was only a few weeks since he was gone but he’d already had multiple horrible days. 

“Yeah? I’m glad it helps. That means…coming home wasn’t a waste”

“A waste?” He repeated, confused, “Why would you say that?”

You pulled at your laces, watching the rain fall at your footsteps, “Nothing, Hyunjin. It doesn’t matter”

“You seem…upset. Did I say something wrong?”

You pulled your knees up to your chest, away from the pitter patter of the drops, “I told you. I really wish you were here. I know it’s impossible”

“Yeah…”

“This morning, I was watching the news…about Jisung’s trial. How’s it going?”

“It’s…okay. He’s so tired already, he kind of just wants to settle but the company lawyers are pushing for more”

“I’m sorry. That sounds so exhausting” You bite your lip, because their lives are already as stressful as they could get, and this legal battle plays in the backdrop like a nuisance.

“They’re also restricting a lot of shit for us. We have to be careful each time we step out in public, and Jisung even has to monitor every phone call…same with Chan and Kairi”

“How long is it going to last?”

“Hopefully not too long, but anyway, that’s not important right now at all. You sound upset. How are you?” He asks, voice becoming softer all of a sudden.

You fear you’re going to sound like a broken record if you tell him you miss him again. These days you seem to fill all your silences with just those words. Would he get sick of hearing them? Is this how long distance relationships are like? Endlessly telling each other you miss them, but never being able to do anything about it.

Instead, you end up saying something absolutely crazy, “Hyun, can I come see you?”

You don’t intend for the words to leave your brain, much less your mouth. In fact, you didn’t even know you were going to say them. You haven’t had time to plan, but Minho’s conversation rings through you. You’ve been saving up to go to Seoul your whole life. You can spare a vacation. It would be worth it if it means you see him.

Hyunjin is quiet, and then he breaks the silence with a chuckle, “W-what?”

“Um, sorry that sounds out of nowhere. I just…I really want to meet you. I miss you, and it sounds like you’re going through a lot. Maybe it’ll help” You trail off, leaving the suggestion up in the air.

“I…I’m not sure, Y/N”

You nod, because it is crazy, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Fuck, I’m so sorry but I…I don’t think I can meet you. Right now, with everything that’s going on, I honestly don’t have the time and…” He trails off.

You nod again, “Yeah. I understand”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay. It’s bad timing”

“It’s bad timing” He repeats, yet his tone is definitive and final.

You can’t seem to see a time in the future which would get better. After the album release, he was going to go on a press tour, and then start preparing for the next album, the music videos, the solo photoshoots…the world tour.

Hyunjin was never going to have time for this, and your throat becomes clogged with a broken dream.

He sighed, softly, “How are you going to get home then, if it’s raining?”

“I’ll wait it out”

“What if it rains till morning?”

You smiled, your silence saying enough.

“I’ll stay with you” He says.

Your brows shot up, “What? Don’t you have…a schedule or an interview to get to?”

His voice came in softly, “It doesn’t matter. I’ll stay with you, till the rain ends”

Now, you wished it would never end.

»»————-

The incessant abuse of your doorbell woke you up. It had been pressed countless times, and it was half past nine. 

Why the hell would anybody come to see you this early?

Last night, Hyunjin had stayed on the call as you’d walked home by yourself. You didn’t talk the whole way, of course. In between, he would be quiet, and you’d only hear the rustling of papers and his pencil as he sketched away in his condominium. You’d hear his breaths, and occasionally, he’d say something. 

In moments like this, he was a man of few words. You appreciated that, because it was nice, to just exist with him. Although, you were slightly embarrassed at how many times you told him you missed him.

Turning over in your bed, you pushed the pillow over your head to make the noise disappear. 

A buzzing of your phone, followed by another short bursts of the doorbell made you sit up.

Who could be here to see you, so urgently, and so fucking impatiently?

“What the hell” You mumbled, getting out of bed, and rushing barefoot on the cold tiles, to answer, and in your sleepy daze you hoped it was him. That by some miracle, Hyunjin had heard your wishes and come to see you.

On the other side of the door, with bagels in hand, stood Felix. 

A hood pulled over his head to protect from the rain, he certainly looked a vision. 

Your sleep disappeared, in lieu of confusion, “Yongbok?”

He smiled, perfect teeth on display, “Morning. I…see that you were still asleep”

You hugged yourself, realising how exposed you were in your sleep shorts and tank. Although that had never been a problem around him before, “I mean yeah…it’s barely ten”

He cocked his head, “It’s almost noon”

“What?” Your heart dropped, “You’re kidding me”

“I’m really not” He laughed, and then said, “Are you going to let me in? It’s freezing out here”

You realised he was standing in the pouring rain, and you stepped back, “Oh, of course”

You still didn’t know what he was doing here, but years of friendship fell back into place and you let him in.

He pulled the hood off, shaking his hair to get the water out, and looked apologetic, “Sorry, I just showed up. I did try texting you, and I thought you’d be awake”

“I got in late last night” You told him, still standing against your open door, watching Felix in your foyer.

“Oh, were you stuck because of the rain? You could have called me, I’d have come picked you up” 

“No, that’s okay. I was on a call”

Realisation crossed his features, “Right. How is he?”

Slight irritation coursed through you, “I didn’t say it was him”

Felix nodded, looking genuinely apologetic, “Sorry. My mistake.”

But of course, he was right because it was Hyunjin you were talking to, but you wouldn’t admit that now, and you held back a groan. 

His eyes flickered over your body, “Why are you still standing at the door? You’ll catch a cold”

“What are you doing here?” You hugged yourself tighter, well-aware that you didn’t even have a bra on, “The last time I saw you, you said you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore”

His eyebrows shot up, and he stared at you.

For a second, you did regret it. It was too early to fight. It was too beautiful a morning for this.

Until he laughed, nervously, “Um…that’s not what I meant. Is that what you got from it?”

You frowned, “What?”

He shook his head, “Um, I guess I really didn’t get the point across. I thought you understood me that night. Isn’t that why you’re avoiding me?”

Your head hurt, “I’m not avoiding you…You’re confusing me, Felix. It’s too early for this”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Hey, look, why don’t you get dressed, and take a shower, and I can make us some coffee…and heat up these bagels by then? After that, maybe we could talk?”

“Talk about what?”

You couldn’t understand him.

“About everything. I realise I’ve been apologising for my actions, but never really explaining why I acted that way this whole time”

But he had been your friend your entire life…so you would hear him out now.

»»————-

He sat at your breakfast table, warm bagels laid out across a plate, with two hot cups of coffee.

You sat across him, pulling your feet up, eyeing his movements.

It wasn’t alien to you…this kindness of his. He had done this countless times before, showed up at your house uninvited, but this time was different, of course.

“I really am sorry for waking you up. I genuinely thought you’d be awake, I thought you had a shift at Aera��s”

“I haven’t had a shift at Aera’s on Tuesday, ever” You responded.

“Oh” He laughed, “Maybe I should have memorised your work schedule back when you started working there…I guess I always assumed it was a temporary job”

You bit into a bagel, unable to hold back your hunger, and it instantly melted in your mouth. A rush of endorphins flooded through you, and you sat back for a minute, letting the taste sit with you, letting your body wake up.

Felix watched you, a soft smile on his face, “You like them?”

“You didn’t have to bake these for me” You spoke, staring at your feet, perched on the chair.

“But I did” He reached his hand out, across the table, “How are you doing?”

You glanced up at him, “I’m…fine”

He frowned, “Your eyes are all swollen. I know what that means”

You pulled your hand back from his, “It’s nothing. I’m just tired of summer”

He sat back, eyebrows raised, “Those are words I never thought I’d hear from you”

“Well…you won’t really understand, Lix”

He slid the cup of coffee towards you, “Try me” 

You stared at him, eyes flickering between his, and then reached forward for the cup, “I don’t know. I feel tired of everything lately. I don’t really want to make an effort to go out. I go to work, and back, and so on. It’s kind of a futile existence”

“I go to the Creek every night. You can come with me”

You hugged yourself, “Yeah, but I just feel like there’s more I should be doing”

His tongue poked his cheek, “You mean…that art apprenticeship” 

You glanced up at him, heart heavy, “I lost that”

“I’m sorry. You could have told me, you know?”

You’ve been hearing that a lot recently, but you know keeping it a secret was the only way it could have worked. He said he would have understood, but you knew him better than that.

“I was afraid of losing you, but…” You laughed, “That happened anyway”

He shook his head, pulling his chair closer to yours, “At the drive-in theatre, when I said I didn’t want us to be friends again…I didn’t mean it like that. There was more I wanted to say, which I couldn’t”

“Wow, you’re really getting right to it”

He laughed, “What? So, would you prefer we talk about nonsense for another hour? I know why I’m here, I’d feel better if you know too”

You weren’t sure you wanted to hear this, but you nodded, “Keep going”

“I guess what I wanted to say was…” He paused, and when your eyes met his, you realised he was actually nervous.

“Yeah?”

His eyes squeezed shut, and then opened, “I was really fucking jealous”

“Of…what?”

He laughed, a sound you’d loved all these years, “Of…Hyunjin. Obviously. Who else?”

“Felix…we talked about this. You have nothing to be jealous about. Just because he’s in my life now, does not mean you can’t be”

He laughed, “No, that’s not what I’m jealous of. I don’t really care if he’s in your life”

“Then what?” 

He sighed, leaning forward, and this angle put him in the path of sunlight. It lit up his face, highlighting the freckles splashed across his nose bridge, and his cheeks, and you saw his lips part to form the words, “You love him.”

Confusion arising, you frowned, “Felix—”

“Let me finish” He laughed, “It’s…been obvious for months”

You were embarrassed, to say the least.

He tilt his head, “Has it not been obvious to you?” 

Your face flushed, from the frustration and the embarrassment, “What, my feelings for him?”

“No. My feelings for you"

He said it so simply.

So fucking simple, and you couldn’t even react.

You sat there, looking at him.

Putting together his words in your mind. Again. And Again.

You misheard him. You had to.

“Yongbok”

“It is what you think it is” He paused, “I really thought that you knew”

“You…” A nervous laugh escaped you, and it wasn’t your proudest moment, “You have feelings for me? You’re fucking with me, right?”

You wanted to ask why. But you didn’t.

“Since when?”

“I don’t know” He leaned back, “I…didn’t really realise it until, well, this summer”

“Oh”

“Yeah” He swallowed, “But I know that you don’t feel the same, and I was acting stupid. It was dumb of me”

You stared at him and don’t know how you didn’t realise this. How did you not put two and two together? You felt so fucking dumb for missing all the hints, and all the clues. 

“Yongbok. I…um, I don’t know what to say. Sorry, I’m just…overwhelmed and confused”

"You don’t have to say anything” He laughed, “You’re like…my best friend in the fucking universe. I know that doesn’t sound like much, because I mean, we’re twenty and best friends makes it sound like we’re in elementary, but it’s true. You’re literally the most consistent person in my life, and I’m always fucking happy around you. Not just happy, but at peace. I’m happy with Hana, and Minho, and Eunbi too, but with you, it’s like I’m home.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, “Felix…”

“I’m sorry for all the times I yelled at you. I’m fucking terrible at holding back my frustration, and I was still navigating my…emotions. I could lie and say I never meant to hurt you when we had all those arguments, but I did. I did want you to feel the kind of hurt I did. That’s probably the biggest red flag” He laughed, “But holy shit, Y/N, you have no idea what it took for me to tell you this. With him being here, I just couldn’t because that’s so fucking cliche, it’d be like I was asking you to choose”

You stared at him, uncomfortable, unable to comprehend the extent of his words, “You should have told me”

“I’m telling you now. I know it’s awkward for you, but I have nothing to lose” He chuckled, “I’m not asking you out, or anything. I just want you to know because it was driving me crazy keeping it to myself. In fact, I was never planning to tell you, but the night of my birthday party, during that stupid spin the bottle game, when we kissed, I thought you felt the same”

You remembered the kiss. 

It had surprised you how much you liked it.

“I mean, you’re a really good kisser” You admitted, picking from crumbs from the bagel.

He laughed, “Am I?”

“Yeah” 

“I try” He smirked, and you know he was trying to lighten the mood. It was so typical of him to make jokes out of an awkward situation, “You’re a really good kisser too. I know after the party, I gave you a 7.5 on the kissing scale, but…I was obviously kidding”

You looked up at him, “Really?”

He nodded, still smiling, “I’m sure Hyunjin would agree with me”

Just like that, the bubble popped.

Your smile fell.

“Sorry” He apologised, “You guys have kissed, right?”

“Yeah”

“And he still went back to Seoul?” He laughed, “Man, being an idol really sucks”

“Yongbok…”

“Okay” He laughed, “I’m sorry. I was just trying to make you laugh”

You didn’t know what this was, or what to make of it.

What are you supposed to say that? You felt an obligation, to return his feelings, despite all the arguments you had in the recent months, you wish you could return them. 

You didn’t want to be the one breaking his heart, or anybody’s. 

Is this how Hyunjin would feel if you’d told him you loved him? 

Would you have also lightened your inevitable rejection by stupid humour? 

You don’t know what you can possibly say to Yongbok, to make things okay.

So later, when he’s helping you wash the cups, foam-filled hands, you ask him, “Are you going to be okay?”

Yongbok looks up at you, a soft smile on his features, and you again realise how beautiful he looked in the sunlight. His skin is lit up, a kindness in his eyes has returned, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he tells you he’s okay.

He tells you not to worry, and that you owe him nothing. He then dips his hand in the foamy sink, reaching up to smear some on your nose, a childlike laughter filling your kitchen.

You wonder if you would feel the same relief, if you confessed the truth to Hyunjin.

»»————-

Your phone rings later that evening, and it’s Hyunjin.

He asks you if you’re okay, and if you’re better than you were yesterday.

You were on the brink of tears last night.

Today, you are better.

Yongbok’s words come back to you, and you wonder why you don’t love him. It sure would have made everything a little easier. 

Everything makes sense now, the way he’s been acting all summer, his behaviour around Hyunjin, and you feel a little stupid for being so oblivious to it.

When you drift off into thought, Hyunjin asked you again, if you were okay.

“I met Yongbok” You responded.

His voice lit up, at your rekindled friendship, “Yeah? What did you guys do?”

You tell him about the bagels, and the coffee, and because you can never keep anything from Hyunjin, you end up blurting, “He told me he loves me. That he has his entire life”

You don’t know why you say it. You’re looking for a reaction. Or for consolation.

But Hyunjin is quiet on the other end, and he doesn’t say much for the rest of the night, and you wonder if you should have just kept it to yourself.

»»————-

Hyunjin doesn’t call you the next day, or the next, or the one after that. 

You try to distract yourself, stealing away work hours into painting. 

Each brushstroke soothed you, and you pour out your emotions. 

Unrequited love is a bitch, and you feel guilty every time you see Felix, but he’s more than okay. You can’t imagine being the same. 

Your paintings end up all looking really sad. They make you feel sad when you look at them, and you realise you’re only painting of longing.

Hyunjin finally texts you.

It’s only to tell you that Chan and Kairi broke up.

He doesn’t say much more, but he doesn’t have to.

You knew what they meant to them, and perhaps this breakup impacted him more than them.

You go back to painting your solitude. 

It’s calming, under the glow of your lamp, tucked in a corner of your room, you lose yourself in your art. 

Autumn is closer than it was yesterday, and it makes you sad. Summer is further away in your past now, and so is he.

Hyunjin’s texts get less frequent, as the days go by.

You feel obsessive, you feel just a little crazy.

You feel like a teenage girl waiting for her crush to call back.

Your heart breaks a little more with each hour that he doesn’t call.

You’re worried all the time, if he was okay.

You read about the scandals on the news, and the rumours on the internet, and some of them involve him but most of them involve Jisung. 

Yeonjun keeps you updated on the trial, and all the press outlets that Jisung has sued. 

Hyunjin doesn’t have space in his life for a relationship, but as days pass, it feels like he doesn’t for a friendship either.

hyun

hey yn

im so sorry

i’ve had a horrible schedule the past few days

they’re really trying to make up for everything I missed

i haven’t been sleeping much and i just…haven’t got much time on my phone

my managers have been really strict

they limit my activities on there

but don’t worry im okay

i spend most of my time in the studio

i miss you too. a lot

His replies soothe you, more than your own art ever could. 

You fall into a habit. You check the news each morning, even before your first sip of coffee, worried if he’s okay.

Hyunjin keeps telling you he’s fine, and you force yourself to believe him.

He sends you pictures of his art, and you notice how much he’s improved. He’s using all of the techniques you taught him. He’s painting about all of his days in your hometown.

Other nights, you don’t hear from him at all.

You feel it falling apart, and your heart breaks.

One day, he asks you about Yongbok again. 

You question if you should never have told him about the confession.

»»————-

The day his album releases, you listen to it before anybody in the world, or at least you’d like to believe so. 

It’s beautiful, and it’s raw. It’s a mix of every genre you can imagine. Hyunjin sings about love like he’s been in it. The album is more beautiful than you could anticipate, and you can already see the headlines surrounding it’s success.

Felix takes you to a store in Samhae, so you can purchase it for yourself, and when you find yourself in a line of twenty girls talking about him, you feel like fighting them.

You borrow Yuqi’s car, so you can push the CD into the stereo, and hear it before you can even get home.

The music Hyunjin makes is beautiful as him, and you hear the vocal fry, and the cadence he speaks with, and you fall in love with him even more.

It feels like cheating, as Felix sits in the passenger seat, listening to the same songs.

You wanted to ask him what he thinks of the album, but you hold back.

When you got home, you sat in the darkness of your room, and listened to it again, just by yourself. 

You called him to tell him what you think of it, but he’s at a party and he has no time for this. 

So you end up keeping your thoughts just to yourself. 

»»————-

You stared at the letter mail within your hands.

It arrived a few days ago, but you hadn’t noticed it until now.

It had been lying in your mailbox, gathering dust, and you stood on the sidewalk, wondering how you the hell you missed it.

It was from the city.

Your heart dropped into your gut, as you ripped open the envelope, making sure not to damage the contents inside.

You took a deep breath.

Holy shit.

It was going to be a rejection.

It had to be.

You stood absolutely still on the pavement, unfolding the letter. It’s so thin you’re afraid you’re going to rip it.

You can’t read this alone. You wish Hyunjin would here, it’d probably feel less scary.

But you can’t wait either. You need to know now.

You scanned the paper, yet your brain couldn’t comprehend the sentences, and skipped forward, registering only certain words. Like a record skipping.

A word stands out to you.

Congratulations.

And then you go back to the start of the letter, trying to make sense of what you just read, but your heart is already beating out of your chest and you think you’re going to pass out.

Congratulations.

Kim Jieong would be honoured to have you join him as an apprentice for his Fall Program in Painting at the Atelier of the Arts in Seoul, South Korea.

You reread the words until they were seared into your mind, and into your heart.

You read them until the paper became wet with droplets, and you realise you were crying. 

On the side of the sidewalk. 

Then you read them again.

You folded the piece of paper into your pocket, and you texted the boy you loved.

hyunjin!

when can i call you?

i have something to tell you

it’s really important

You wait for his answer, but your message doesn’t deliver.

So you sat down on your front porch, trying to calm your heart but you’re bursting with excitement and anticipation. You’ve already texted Felix and Minho, but you’re only waiting for one person’s reaction.

You need to tell him now. 

He could be busy. He could be at work, or in bed, but you don’t care.

He has to be the first to know.

You find yourself dialling his number, and your hands are shaking, and your heart is trembling.

Hyunjin doesn’t pick up.

And you’re met with an unfamiliar message.

“We're sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

»»————-

THREE MONTHS LATER

»»————-

“Take my hand if you don’t wanna fall” 

You looked up, and Felix is smiling down at you, the sun a halo around his head.

He’s got pink skates on, and it suits him. 

The brightness of them stands out in the park.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who’s fallen over…thrice now?” Minho laughs, coming to stand next to you, arms on his hips.

“I’ll be fine, Lix” You smiled, tightening the laces of your roller-skates.

“Let me at least help you up” He insisted.

You nodned, letting him take your hand and pull you up. You’re inches from him when you stand up, and he smiled at you.

“See you at the rink in a few?” He tilt his head.

“I’ll see you, Lix”

He let go of your hand, and you miss the steadiness it gave you, but almost instantly Minho comes to your side. With a hand on your back, he leads you to the rink. You’re still getting used to these roller-skates, and you’ve fallen over more than you’d liked.

“Aren’t you glad I dragged you out here?” He nudged you.

“Sure” You smiled at him, trying to match his pace. 

It’s a beautiful day at the park. There’s a harvest festival, where Felix bobbed for apples, and you cheered for him. Then Minho forced you all onto the rink, bringing you a new pair of skates since you couldn’t find your old ones. As you skated around the park with your friends, it almost feels like the old days.

The leaves had changed color.

The days were shorter now, and the sun hung low in the sky, the temperature dropping to single digits.

With the onset of fall, you stopped swimming in the Creek, and the fireflies disappeared, and you never left the house without a cardigan anymore. 

Aera’s kept you busy, and so did the weekends at The Château. You and Seungmin grew even closer, and you found joy in interacting with travelling tourists, searching for artistic pursuits and adventure in your little town. 

Felix explored his love for baking with you, and you recreated everything in his recipe book… except for the strawberry streusels. Yeonjun consistently kept in touch with, and told you of his life in the city, the drama in his workplace, and about the cute new girl that sat across him at work. 

You fell in love with the palette of autumn, and all your artworks became tinged with shades of orange and red. All of your sweaters became tainted with paint splatters, and the walls of your room became full with your memories of the summer.

“Are you going to take these with you? I bought them for you, full-price mind you” Minho asked you.

You sighed, “I don’t know”

“There has to be places in Seoul to skate in” He thought, and grabbed your hand so you can speed up. You smiled, feeling the wind on your face, desperately trying to not lose your balance.

“I don’t think I have space in my suitcase” You told him, as he stopped. 

Felix is on the other side, and he’s smiling at you. He looks cute, and he’s with his sister. She’s in matching pink rollerblades, and Felix has spent more than an hour teaching her how to skate.

There’s a couple next to them, and they’re holding hands and skating, and they keep kissing, and your chest hurts with the thought of him.

You haven’t been able to talk to him in months…

He doesn’t even know you got into the program.

His number changed, and he closed all of private social media.

“Hey?” Minho said, turning your head to look at him, and he can read your mind, “You’ll find him once you get to the city, it’s only a matter of time”

You frowned, “How? I don’t even know where he lives…I don’t even know if he’s okay”

“Well, you obviously know he’s alive” Minho joked, “He looks pretty good in all the interviews they did”

“I’m just worried about him” You mumbled, “It feels weird to go this long without hearing from him”

“It’s probably something with the company. Hyunjin told you how controlling they were, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but…he’s not a kid. How can they control this shit in his life?”

You’ve had this same conversation millions of times before, over the past three months, but you still can’t understand what happened. You had tried every way to get in touch with him, but with how famous he was right now…it was impossible.

It’s not even like you can go to Facebook and add him as a fucking friend. 

“I can ask Felix to try” Minho asked.

“No” You insist, “It’s not gonna make a difference. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll see him soon”

You can’t help but have hope. At the beginning, you were worried, and then you were angry but now you’re just confused. You know he’d never change his contact information without telling you, or even Minho, or Seungmin. 

Something went wrong.

A huge reason you’re excited to go to Seoul, is so you can finally meet him, and know what happened, how he’s been, and if he’s okay.

You heard Felix call out to you.

“Wait, Y/N” Minho grabbed your arm, “I’m sure he’s even more upset than you”

Over the past few months, Minho has discussed all of his theories with you, about what could have happened. He’s so sure, that Hyunjin’s company is involved. You want to believe him, because there’s no way Hyunjin would do this.

“What are you two gossiping about?” Felix asked, skating over to you, and from where you stand, he really looked like a fairy, long hair blowing in the wind.

“Nothing important” You smiled at him, “Wanna skate with me now?”

“Always” He grinned. You let him take your hand, and pull you around the rink, guiding you through groups of friends, children and couples. 

“What are you wearing to the party tonight?” He asks, after a while, and his hand landed on your waist, helping you balance.

“Whatever outfit I haven’t packed” You admitted, honestly.

“Come on, you’re the star of the night” He spun in front of you, “You should wear the blue dress, the one you wore to Yeonjun’s party last year”

Tonight is the going away party that Minho is throwing for you. You can’t believe it’s already time. You leave tomorrow.

Everything has been building up to this, and you’re so excited, you think you could burst. You’re anxious too, because everything has to go right, it’s only what you’ve been dreaming about.

Your acceptance letter is tucked into a book, and it feels like only yesterday that you found out, but it’s already been months.

The night you got accepted, Felix baked you a chocolate cake. You were too shaken up, and confused about the fact that you couldn’t get through to Hyunjin, but you had to celebrate.

Felix… distracts you from all your worries. You’re grateful for his company.

“I don’t want to be the star” You told him.

Felix rolled his eyes, “You deserve it, love, and you have no choice”

You had been anxious about Hyunjin for months, confused, and heartbroken, but you have bigger things to worry about.

The program starts in a week, and you don’t have enough time to prepare.

Yet, you’ve been preparing for it all your life.

The money you’ve saved up happens to just be enough for a studio apartment, and Yeonjun helped you find a place in a busy neighbourhood.

Not that it mattered.

You would sleep in the subway if you had to, if it means you’ll get to learn from The Kim Jieong. The artist you’ve looked up to all your life, your inspiration, your muse, and your everything.

Later that night, Minho helped you pack, and you take only what you need. You can’t afford to leave your supplies at home, like he did, so you packed all of them. You keep aside the tattered brushes, because the city kids would definitely disapprove. 

Your suitcase filled up quickly, with an array of watercolours, and acrylics, and pastels, and you compromised on your clothes.

You only pack your favourite coat, and your dark sweaters, and the skirts you didn’t wear here yet.

The going away party is small, and you love and hate every part of it. You wear the blue dress Felix wanted you to. Everybody there tells you you’ll do well, and you wonder if any of them secretly resent you, if they think you’re another person who gave into the city's false charms. Everybody who moves to the city from a small town is always celebrated, but you know you’ll probably be hated when you’re actually gone.

You’re in such a daze throughout, you don’t realise the importance of that night.

You’re not going away for long, but it’s still a huge deal.

The apprenticeship has a low acceptance rate, and they hardly take any students from Korea. It’s mostly international kids, and you can’t believe you get the chance to be amongst them.

After the party, you and Felix stay to help Minho clean up, and you stand on the threshold of the doorway, to catch your breath. Felix threw away the last of the beer bottles, and stood opposite you, leaning on the other end.

Your arms are folded behind your back, and you smile at him.

“I can’t believe Seonmi tried to get us to play spin the bottle again” 

You sigh, “I’m glad Minho shut them down”

Felix laughs, and then his shoulders sag as the laughter dies down, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired” You tell him, “But…I’m really fucking excited too”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving” He mumbles, for the tenth time that night, and he pushes his hands in his pockets.

“It’s not like I’m moving away forever” You tell him, “The apprenticeship is just a temporary program”

“But isn’t the point of it to get a job in the city?” He asks.

“There’s only a few spots open, for the people that perform the best”

“Then you’re definitely not coming back” He says, smiling, placing unwavering faith in you.

“We’ll see” You shrug.

“Is he coming to pick you up from the station?” He asks.

You nod, “If he can make it. He’s been busy recently”

“You promise to keep me in your life?” He suddenly asks, tilting his head. You notice his hair’s grown longer in the fall, falling to his shoulders. The blonde suits him, the glow of the porch lights sharpen his cheekbones, and the shadows on his face.

“You’d push your way back, even if I didn’t” You tell him.

He laughs, knowing it’s the truth, “I’ve had the privilege of knowing you since we were…kids. I’m never letting you go, you know that?”

His words are meant to comfort you, but the irony doesn’t fail to strike.

He must have noticed the fall in your expression, because he steps forward, “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

“I’m…kind of a little terrified” You admit, eyes downcast, watching the pink shoelaces of Felix’s worn-out shoes.

“You’ve been painting your whole life. Everybody’s going to fall in love with you there, I can bet my life on that”

“I only need Kim Jieong to fall in love with me” You joke.

“And he will. You’ll spare no one”

You swallow, “Thank you. I know you never really wanted me to move away. But I’m really glad you understand how much this means to me”

“I rather you be away from me than be miserable in this little town” He admits, and his finger meets the end of your chin. He tilts your head up, so you’re looking him right in the eye.

“That doesn’t sound like you” You mumble.

He rolls his eyes, “I know. The things I do for you”

You smile, “Thank you”

“I’m really gonna miss you” He admits, “You’ll come home for the next summer though, right?”

You nod, and his hand is still on your chin, “Of course. I’ll be here”

His lips pull up into a smile, and his eyes are bright, and the freckles on his skin look far too much like stardust right now.

“You’ll be here. That’s why summer’s my favourite season” He mumbles, but his voice is suddenly hoarse now, half of his words lost in his mouth. 

He’s staring right at you, and you feel the breath leave your lungs. 

It reminds you of the night of his birthday and how he came to your rescue, kissing you to save you from embarrassment.

“Can I kiss you?” He suddenly asks you, the depth of his voice prickling through you.

Apparently, he was thinking of the same thing.

The words throw you for a loop, but yet they don’t. 

He knows you don’t feel the same way for him. He knows that you’re in love with someone else. But he still asks. It’s a goodbye kiss. It doesn’t mean much more. 

So, you say yes, and he swallows your words in a kiss.

He presses you up against the doorway, but he doesn’t deepen the kiss. His lips move against yours, and his hands hold you, and all you can think about how is how different this feels.

It’s not that you’ve given up on Hyunjin. In fact, in a few days, you’ll be closer to him than you’ve ever been, under the same night sky, breathing the same air.

Your hands stay behind you, pressed into the doorway, and you feel the slightest urge to run them through his hair, but you don’t. 

Felix kisses you sweetly, and when he pulls away, there’s no awkwardness. He lets out a laugh, pulling playfully at your cheeks and mumbles something about making sure you don’t miss the train in the morning.

That night, when you’re packing away the last of your things, you reached for the sketchbook you had left at Hyunjin’s house. It laid by your bedside, but you haven’t opened it in weeks. You decided to take it with you, if only for the memories and the sketches you’ll make on the journey.

As you reach to put it in your suitcase, something dropped from within its pages and landed on the wooden floor.

Frowning, you bent down to pick it up. 

It’s a vertical photo strip, and when you flip it over, your breath stops in your throat.

It’s the pictures from the photobooth.

Of you and Hyunjin kissing, in the pink lights.

How the fuck did that get in here?

You’re absolutely sure he had deleted them, right in front of your own eyes.

It stirs memories within you, plunging you right back into that moment, the hot, heavy kisses that you shared, the tightness with which he gripped your hips, the urgency with which you touched each other.

Your core tightened, and you sit on the floor to take a breath.

You stared at the strip of pictures. Your first instinct is to text him, and ask where he got them, but you can’t even contact him. 

It’s another question you can’t wait to ask him, when you finally see him again.

A tsunami of feelings overwhelms you, and you know that you can’t blame him for this sudden rift between you, because you can still feel the intensity with which he held you, and moments like that can’t be temporary.

A new buzz runs through your veins, and you hold the photo strip tight to your chest, wondering when it would be real again.

»»————-

The stars in the sky were replaced by the skyscraper lights, as your train hurtled closer to its destination.

Clutching your ticket in your hand, your eyes were peeled to the window, watching the city skyline become closer, and closer, until the buildings loomed over you. 

You’d seen the city through pixels and in coffee table books but never like this. 

Your camera ran out of film before you’d even arrived, and perhaps you should have prepared for that. You couldn’t stop your excitement. Everything was new, and everything was gorgeous. You took pictures of your ticket, of your seat, of the view.

You have to document this. In every form possible.

The cute boy across you even offered to share a pack of Peppero sticks halfway through the ride, and you hoped everybody in the city was as kind as him.

There were more people at the platform than in the entirety of Daejon, and you held your bags tightly to you, making your way through the crowd. At a certain point, you weren’t even walking, just pushed toward the nearest exit, going with the flow of the crowd around you. 

Each breath brought a new scent, fighting for your attention in the crowd. The musty luggage that had travelled all over the country being dragged against the concrete. 

There must be a cafe nearby, because the aroma of coffee wafted through the air, and it wasn’t till the scent of pastries hit you that you realised you were starving.

There’d be time for food later.

The faint hint of cologne and perfume clouded your senses, different kinds of fragrances worn by the people who walked through the station.

It was overwhelming, a sensory overload, but you had expected this chaos.

You welcomed it.

He was waiting for you at the platform.

Relief flooded through you at the familiar face amongst the crowd. 

“Look at her” He remarked, a small smile overtaking him.

“Fuck” You ran up to him, navigating through the few people still in your way. 

His arms wrapped around you immediately, lifting you off the ground momentarily, and his scent was familiar and it was known, and it calmed you instantly. You buried your face in his neck, letting him hold you to his body in the crowd.

“You’re here” He breathed, pulling back to look at you, eyes wide.

“I missed you” You admitted, reaching out to grab his hand, “Thank you…for coming to pick me up”

He squeezed yours in return, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world” 

“No, I’m serious. Thank you, Yeonjun”

He stared at you, eyes crinkling in appreciation and love, “You don’t have to thank me”

The crowd moved around you, like a river around a rock, as you held him close to you. 

Everything was unfamiliar here, but him.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here” He smiled, grabbing your bags.

Walking out of the station felt like stepping into a dream you’d forgotten.

You’d studied these streets, and dreamt of these buildings, but now you stood amongst them. Awe and fascination swelled in your heart, and if it wasn’t for Yeonjun keeping a hold on you, you’d probably stop and stare at every little thing.

The neon lights danced along the alleyways, casting colors onto everyone around you.

It was so typical. 

It was just like the movies.

You picked up on snippets of conversations, leftovers of drama, but it was crazy, because for the first time, you didn’t know who they were gossiping about. There were no familiar faces or names, a reality you could never live before.

In the distant, you could hear street musicians and you stopped, pulling at Yeonjun’s sleeve, “Can we go see that?”

You’ve seen far too many Youtube videos about this, and you have been waiting to experience this yourself.

He laughed, gesturing to your luggage, “With all this stuff in our hands?”

“Right” You realised.

“Hey, we can always come back to this. Let’s get you settled in first, yeah?” He said, reaching forward to tuck your hair back in a gesture that soothed you.

“I know. I just…I’m excited. Sorry” You apologised.

“Don’t be sorry. I was the same my first day here” He said, sincerely, “I’m glad I have you to share this with. Although you’re already doing better than me, I was so overwhelmed”

You swallowed, “I am too, but…I want to be”

Yeonjun’s lips curled up into a smile, “Yeah?”

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long time, Jun”

“I know” He smiled, then tugged at your hand, “Now come on, we’re almost at your apartment”

You let him tug you along, because you were too lost taking everything in to navigate yourself. 

It was overwhelming, 

But you embraced it.

»»————-

“Are you sure this is the right building?”

“Mmh, I checked on the map. It’s definitely the red building”

“It…looks different than it did online” You said, staring at the apartment.

“I’m sure it’s nicer inside” He shot you a calm look. 

He grabbed the heavier suitcase, before attempting to push the door open. 

It didn’t budge, and he stopped, “Is the door locked or something?”

“Um, they told me it’d be open till six” You mumbled, glancing at your phone to check the time.

“Well, it’s certainly not open” Yeonjun muttered, trying to push it open with his shoulder. 

His efforts were met with no real results, and he released a frustrated sigh.

“Maybe I can try” You side-stepped him, lamely attempting to turn the knob.

“You know, it’s not that cold” Yeonjun rolled his eyes at the thick gloves you had on.

“It’s cold for me” You defended. 

Daejon almost had the same weather year-round. 

You weren’t used to the chill that came this up north.

“I pray for you when winter comes” He added.

You turned to him, arms crossed, “So…are we just going to stand here the rest of the night?”

“Why don’t you call the landlord?”

You bit your lip, “I wouldn’t wanna inconvenience him” 

Yeonjun sighed, dropping the duffel bag on the pavement, “You literally can’t get into your apartment. I think he’ll understand”

Your new life in the city was off to a great start.

“Maybe I can try again tomorrow” You spoke, “Could I stay at your place tonight?”

“Y/N” He stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder, “You can, but you’re not going to be bothering him, I promise you. This is kind of his job”

You stared at him, and sighed, “You’re right. But, before I call him, do you think there’s another entrance to the place? Maybe we’re at the wrong one”

Yeonjun looked up at the facade of the building. All the blinds to the apartment windows were shut, and he kept his hands on his hips, “I’ll check around the back”

“Thank you” You nodded, “I’ll try the door here”

You peeled off your gloves, turning the knob again, hoping that it might work this time.

You pushed at it with your shoulder, and to your surprise, the door burst open, plunging you inside. 

Somebody else had opened the door from the inside.

“Fuck” You collided with them, flushing with embarrassment.

“Whoa” He exclaimed, hands coming up to your shoulders, “Are you okay?”

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry” You stepped back, looking up at him.

Was everyone in Seoul a fucking model or something?

His hair fell into his eyes, sharp features and a jawline that immediately stood out to you. 

He seemed to be younger than you.

He observed your form, eyes flickering over your figure before he stepped back, to let you breathe, “Were you…breaking in to my apartment or something?”

“No!” You immediately responded in horror, eyes wide, “I…I’m Y/N”

His eyebrows shot up, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“I’m the new resident on the sixth floor” You explained, voice unsure by the second, “Mr. Kwon didn’t mention me?”

“Oh” His eyes widened in recognition, “Right. He did. I didn’t think you’d be coming in today. Bad weather to be moving in”

“You’re right” You laughed, pushing your hands in your pockets, “So, uh…I’m Y/N”

He smiled, eyes crinkling, “Hi, Y/N. I’m Jeongin”

“Sorry about the door. I couldn’t get in” 

“It tends to get stuck in the cold sometimes” He explained, then looked behind you, “Is that all the stuff you have?”

You turned back, “Yeah. My friend’s gone around the block…to look for another entrance”

Jeongin smiled brightly, like he had no troubles in the world, “Well, I can help you get your bags up, unless you wanna wait for your friend to come back?”

“I’ll just tell him I got the door open” You explained, reaching for your phone to text Yeonjun. 

Your new neighbour, Jeongin, watched as you typed out the text, and then reached forward, to pick up the duffel you’d abandoned on the street.

“You probably shouldn’t leave your stuff out like that” He laughed, grabbing the handle of your suitcase, “Some scumbags are just looking for an opportunity like that”

“Oh” You realised, feeling dumb for leaving your things unattended.

Jeongin pulled your suitcase and duffel bag up the porch stairs, before shooting you a glance, “I’m guessing you’re new to the city”

“It’s obvious?” You laughed, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it” He shook it off with a hand, as you followed him up the stairs, “I’m on the second floor, by the way”

You clutched the rusty bannister with one hand, craning your neck to observe the atrium. The centre of the staircase had a skylight, but it was pitch-black outside.

He glanced back at you, “If you ever find yourself stuck outside, you can shoot me a text. I’m almost always home”

You followed him up to the sixth floor, “Thank you, that’s really nice of you. Are you in university?”

He nodded, “I take my classes online though. You?”

“I’m here for an art internship”

“Where’d you move here from?” He asked, as you made your way to the door, and you handed him the keys. 

“Daejon. It’s a small town down south, near the beach and the mountains. You probably haven’t heard of it”

He turned to you, with a grin, “Sounds beautiful”

You unlocked the door to your unit, and thankfully this lock was easier than the one below. 

Flicking the switches on, you glanced around.

The apartment certainly was…something. 

It was a studio, unfurnished, one bedroom, one bath.

The walls and floor were bare, and there was hardly any lighting, but that could be fixed.

Everything could be fixed.

You had made it here, and that’s what mattered.

A little kitchen window looked out into a fire escape, glimpses of the city visible. 

It excited you already. You could set up an easel there and learn to paint this new landscape.

You’d brought no artwork with you…but the new paintings you made could decorate the walls, and soon the place would fill up with your new memories of the city.

There was so much potential.

“It’s not bad. Mr. Kwon gave you one of the better units” The boy commented, and you realised he was still here, as you’d been fantasising about your new place.

“Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” 

Jeongin raised an eyebrow, “Why would I want to make you feel better? We’ve only known each other like… thirty seconds”

Your eyes widened, and for a second you wondered if he actually meant it, before he burst into a laugh.

“Sorry” He giggled, “I was kidding. Did you think I was not?”

“And how would I know you were kidding? I just met you, like you said” You exhaled.

He laughed, walking back to you, “Why would I be so rude to you for no reason?”

You shrugged, hugging yourself, “I don’t know…maybe you’re an asshole”

“Ouch” He laughed.

“Who are you?” A familiar voice interrupted, and you turned to see Yeonjun stood at the doorway. His eyes were wide, and his hair was wet from the rain. You felt guilty for leaving him out in the cold, but he was more concerned about the stranger in your apartment.

“Who are you?” Jeongin asked him in return, “How’d you get in?”

Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed, “The door was open downstairs”

“Shit” He mumbled, “Mr Kwon will kill me”

“Why are you in my friend’s living room?” Yeonjun asked.

“I was helping her in”

Yeonjun shot you a look, and you shrugged, “What?”

Jeongin looked between the two of you awkwardly, “I gotta go close up downstairs”

“Sure. Thank you for letting me in by the way”

“Course. No problem” He smiled, pushing his hands in his denim jacket pockets as he left. 

Once he was out of earshot, Yeonjun shut the apartment door, and raised an eyebrow at you, “Who was he?”

“Yang Jeongin” You leaned against the kitchen counter, letting out a breath, “He opened the door for me”

“And you let him into your apartment. What if he’s a creep?”

“Relax, Jun. At least I’m inside now”

He looked around, observing the place, “Well, at least there’s no mold here or anything”

You stare at him, “Are you kidding me? The place is… perfect”

He laughs, “What?”

You run up to him, pulling him into a hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you”

He wrapped his arms around you, “Someone’s happy”

You looked up at him, “Of course I am. This is what I’ve wanted my entire life”

“You didn’t seem this excited downstairs” He pointed out.

“I was worried for a second there” You say, “But now I’m so happy”

He laughed, “Fuck. I’m happy for you”

You let go of him, to sit on your new couch, in your new home.

“If I get some cute stuff and more lights, it’ll be nice, right?”

He walked over to the kitchen window, peering out at the view, “Just be careful to keep the blinds closed at night”

“Why?” You frowned.

“There’s a lot of creepy people in the city”

You smiled, dropping your head back on the couch, “I don’t care”

He laughed again, stepping over to you, “When do you want to unpack?”

“Is it crazy if I say right now? I kind of want to put all my stuff in place”

“No, it’s not crazy. You’re not tired?”

“I’ve been preparing for this my whole life, so no”

He chuckled, “I’m guessing you’re going to be saying that a lot”

He walked over to the bedroom, “It’s smaller than on the website. You’ll have to buy a bed”

“I know” You hummed, closing your eyes, to take everything in. If you sat here quietly, you’d be able to hear the sirens, the pedestrians, the noise from all the shops.

“Do you wanna order some pizza?” He asked.

“That’s perfect”

As the hours pass, you put away all your clothes in the wardrobe. Yeonjun helped you arrange the paintbrushes and canisters in a corner. You’ve only had enough space to bring two canvases and you balanced them against your bedroom wall. 

Yeonjun played an English rock band he’s lately been obsessed with as you emptied the last of your suitcase.

The pizza arrived in no time, and Yeonjun brought it upstairs.

You’ve opened the kitchen window to let the city sounds in, and he smiles at your amused expression. Your apartment faces a busy street, but you love it. There’s absolutely no silence, and you think it’ll help you fall asleep at night.

Sitting on the floor, the pizza box lay between you as Yeonjun told you about his favourite spots in the city. He was a little overprotective, telling you to avoid certain neighbourhoods, but you appreciate him.

“Are you excited to join the internship?” He asked, biting down into the pepperoni.

“Apprenticeship” You corrected him.

“What’s the difference?” He laughed.

“Look it up” You rolled your eyes, tossing a pepperoni at him.

He nodded, “So you’re sticking in Seoul forever then?”

You laughed, “We’ll see”

“You didn’t answer my question” He repeated, popping open a coke can, a hissing sound accompanying it.

“I am excited. Obviously” You smiled, “Nervous to meet Kim Jieong though. He’s like my favourite artist, ever, in the entire observable universe”

Yeonjun laughed, passing you the coke can, “I better be the first to hear all about your first day”

“Who else will I even tell?” You laughed.

He nodded, swallowing the crusts, and choosing to stay quiet.

It’s awkward. Hyunjin’s thought hangs in the air.

He doesn’t know you’re here.

He doesn’t even know you got accepted.

“We could do something crazy. If you want”

“What?” You asked, curious.

“You’re probably gonna hate the idea” He laughed.

You scoot closer to him, “Tell me”

He bites into another piece, “You know where he works. The Pegasus headquarters. It’s not too far from your classes”

You stare at him as he talks. The idea makes you feel like a stalker.

“I can’t just show up at his workplace”

“Isn’t that how you two met in the first place? He showed up to your workplace?”

You grabbed the coke can from him, “You’re clever. But no…that’d be weird”

“How else are you going to get in touch with him?”

“I don’t know, but it is so weird to think that we’re under the same sky now”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, “You’re way too romantic. You know that you’re always under the same sky, right? No matter where you are on Earth”

“Shut up” You tossed a piece of pepperoni at him, “Don’t kill the mood”

“Fine. You’re breathing the same air as Hyunjin. I mean, if you really want to be romantic, you’ll probably bump into him sometime soon”

“There’s like ten million people in the city, Jun”

“Oh, now you’re logical?” He laughed. Yeonjun’s face suddenly lit up, and you know he’s had a terrible idea.

“What? Don’t tell me…” 

“I’m going to help you find him. That’s kind of my job”

“Finding people?” You laughed.

“No, tracking their digital footprints, and shit”

“How is that going to help us find Hyunjin again?”

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that part out”

You rolled your eyes, and you lie down.

Your stomach is full, you’re tired, and the floor of your new place is cold, and you love it. You’re so happy. 

You’re right where you belong, and right where you were always supposed to be.

It feels right, and you smile to yourself.

“Do you want to go for a walk? Maybe we can explore your neighbourhood. You can get familiar with it” Yeonjun suggested.

You sat up so quickly, “That’s the greatest idea I’ve ever heard” 

So, he took you around the alleys, and you tried to memorise the names of the streets, and he showed you a coffee shop, and a Paris fucking Baguette. 

Your street is busy and full of life, even this late at night. Even from here, you could see the high-rise buildings surrounding you, glass houses, and everything is glamorous. 

“I literally feel like I’m inside a drama” You told Yeonjun, watching all of the little shops and snack stands. The mannequins in the window display wore clothes you could never get away with wearing back home.

But, you’ll wear them now.

It’s so much all at once.

He held your hand, introducing you to everything he knew of. 

You feel like a stranger in your own country. Everything is different here.

But you’re right where you belong, and as Yeonjun led you back home, you looked up at the sky.

It’s different too.

You realise Hyunjin was right all along.

There are no stars here. 

»»————-

It’s been less than a week, and you’re lost.

You’re not proud to admit it.

But the city is big, and you were only trying to find your way to The Atelier.

Cabs were expensive as hell, so you’d decided to walk, and take the trains but clearly you’d ended up in the wrong neighbourhood.

You called Yeonjun. Obviously.

“Look, Y/N. I still don’t understand what possessed you go visit your art building this late”

“I was impatient!” You admitted. Your classes don’t start for another week, but you wanted to check the place out. You couldn’t hold your excitement.

“You could’ve just waited for the weekend. I would have gone with you”

You snorted, “Right. What would you do in a place like that?”

“Hey, I can be artsy too” He retorted, “Now tell me what you see”

You stared ahead of you.

It’s busy, and there’s so many people. You turn a corner, and then another, and another. It’s already dark out, and the streetlights have twinkled on. You wish you could appreciate the beauty, but you’re so lost. 

Somehow, you’re not scared. You know you’ll figure it out. 

You’ve made it this far after all.

“I’m at a street with a thousand shops”

“So…every single street of this city? You’re so helpful”

“You’re not being very helpful either” You crossed your arms.

“Just go into any shop, and ask them where the art building is”

“What if they don’t know?”

“Then ask somebody else” Yeonjun suggested.

You survey the plethora of shops. Half of them have already shuttered down, and some are in the process of closing. 

There’s only one store that’s open. It looks like it sells snacks and drinks, but maybe they can tell you where you are. The fluorescent lights of it cast a harsh aura upon the streets, unmatched to the traditional aesthetic of everything else. 

“Okay. That’ll give me an excuse to get that expensive candy I saw at the station”

Yeonjun laughed, “I am appalled at how positive you’re being right now despite being in the middle of nowhere”

You walked up the little stairs, a chime sounding as you enter. 

It’s bigger than you expected inside. 

There’s rows and rows of snacks, shelves stocked to the brim. It’s local, different from a 7/11 franchise, but it’s just as organised. There’s a few people already in the store, and you walked past them, until you find an employee who can help you.

“Yeah, once I decided to stop being affected by every little thing, life became much easier” You joked.

You can almost imagine Yeonjun rolling his eyes as he said, “If only everything was that easy”

“I’m gonna ask someone who works here. I’ll call you after, okay?” You spoke into the phone, before hanging up.

There’s a girl, she looked friendly enough.

“Excuse me?” 

She turned, and she was chewing gum, “Yeah? How can I help you?”

“Yeah, could you tell me how I can get to the Atelier from here?”

You feel a little stupid. She’s probably wondering why you can’t just use your phone, but the streets here are so narrow, there’s no way it’ll be accurate.

Her eyebrow furrowed, “That fancy glass building?” 

You lit up in recognition, “Yes! Exactly that!”

“Um. I’m sorry, I don’t know. But Jae will know. His girlfriend goes there. I can call him if you want, he’s the back”

“Oh” You nodded, “That’ll be really helpful, thank you so much”

She looked around, “Are you gonna buy anything?”

You nodded, smiling at her, before she walked into the back.

Well, she was nice.

You tucked your hands into your jacket pockets, and looked around. 

You haven’t been to this part of town before. Well, you’ve only been here a few days but you must have got yourself really, really lost to end up in such a random place.

You waited for the girl to come back, and you watched the people around you.

You envy their sense of comfort, and familiarity.

There’s a couple, still in school uniforms, and they’re picking out candy.

There’s quite a few people in the store, baskets full of snacks, and iced coffee, and maybe you can grab one too, after you reorient yourself.

The shelf is front of you is so overstimulating, and there’s so many different types of candy. 

That’s another one of your favourite things here.

Brands you’ve never heard of or seen before. Imported sweets, from all across the world, and everything is expensive, but you don’t care right now.

There’s a huge box of purple candies.

It’s too much, even for you.

But you feel the need to treat yourself.

You reached for it, picking it off the shelf. Your eyes wander up.

There’s a boy.

Your heart skips a beat, and you think it almost stopped.

You’re dizzy.

The most beautiful boy in the world… stands on the other side of the shelf.

You’d recognise that stance anywhere. 

He’s in a dark trench coat and a cap is pulled over his head, and getting lost has easily been the absolute best mistake of your life. It’s the craziest coincidence in the world, and maybe now you really don’t believe in coincidences anymore.

You believe in destiny, and he has to be yours.

There’s no other explanation, no rhyme or reason for why else he would be here, right now, right here, at the same time as you.

He hasn’t seen you yet, and you relish in those few seconds of pure observation.

He looks exactly the same, as he browses through the aisle of cereals.

Your heart burned, and it yearned, and you couldn’t wait anymore.

You couldn’t stop yourself, even if you wanted to.

“Hyunjin?” You blurted, the excitement unable to be held back.

His head shot up to yours.

The blue box of cereal in his hand dropped to the floor.

And it really was him.

It actually was him.

There were no coincidences. 

He looked so gorgeous, and you can already feel his distinct scent. Your lips curved up into a smile, and your heart was beating out of its chest.

He was staring at you, eyes wide, lips parted.

His hair had gotten even longer, and it peeked out from under his cap.

“Hyunjin I—”

A woman stepped between you, picking up what he’d just dropped.

“Is this the one you were looking for?” She handed it to him.

Hyunjin tore his gaze away from you and nodded at her.

She looked at you, wondering what had his attention.

Your words were stuck in your throat, and your heart was squeezing in your chest, you thought you might collapse.

Who was that?

“Is there anything else you need?” She asked him.

He shook his head, gaze to the floor, “No. I’m good”

His voice. You’d missed it insanely.

“Perfect. The cash counter’s in the back though” She walked past you, and she’s not your problem anymore because he’s here. He’s actually here, in front of you, in the most random shop in all of Seoul. 

Hyunjin stepped out from the aisle. 

You’re standing in his way, “Hey—”

“Excuse me” He mumbled, his shoulder bumped against yours and he walked right past you.

What the fuck?

He didn’t even look at you.

Someone tapped on your shoulder, and it was the girl with the chewing gum.

Your eyes were still on him though, confused, and a fear began to settle in your stomach. He was standing at the cash counter, and his was head was ducked low, as the woman placed all of their shopping out of the cart. 

For a second, you wonder if you’re mistaken and if that’s someone else, but you know it’s him, but that doesn’t make any sense.

The girl employee spoke cheerfully, introducing a boy at her side, “This is Jae! He can tell you the way to the Art Atelier”

At those words, Hyunjin finally looked back, over his shoulder, at you.

His gaze met yours.

It definitely was him.

You were about to say something, but the words never made it past your lips, because he immediately looked away from you.

It was as if he had never known you.

Like you were a stranger.

The city of Seoul had never felt so quiet, as right now.

»»————-

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