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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XVI

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General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.1K

20 Yelona

Like most people, Kazi maintained certain self-destructive tendencies that, when willfully ignored, could and would fuck her over.

In particular, her tendency to avoid a problem created an unhealthy handling of her emotions.

So, it wasn’t a surprise when her early-morning attempt to prepare quiche went awry.

Originally, when she first prepared the dish for the men a month ago, it was her way to show her appreciation for their respectful cohabitation. A simple meal for them to take on their mission.

Eventually, though, her childhood interest renewed. Preparing the traditional dish reminded her of chilly mornings at the harbor.

Sitting on a barrel while the ships prepared for their journeys, she listened to the sailors tell their tales of oceanic beasts and tumultuous storms. She snacked on her father’s leftover quiche, and when the ships were secured, she stood on the dock watching her father’s ship disappear on the horizon, eager for new stories upon his return.

Unfortunately, this morning’s quiche preparation couldn’t distract her from her thoughts. Her emotions were scattered, and when she tried to pinpoint one, a conflicting one arose.

She was interested in Wolffe.

She was lonely and wanted a friend.

She thought Wolffe might be interested in her.

She was dramatizing her life and looking into nonexistent corollaries.

She wanted to be with Wolffe.

Wolffe was a man she respected and trusted, and she was deluding herself into believing he wanted her.

Gritting her teeth, Kazi glared at the lump of dough she was kneading. It was too floury. Too thick and coarse.

With a defeated sigh, she tossed the inedible batch, cleaned the counters and dishes, and washed her hands. Movement outside the sunroom’s windows—both Wolffe and Fox were outside when she returned from her swim, the former tending to the garden while the latter sanded the tree trunk he fell weeks ago—convinced her to leave the house and skip another awkward morning with Wolffe.

The past six days Kazi tried to act normal. Pretended her revelation lacked depth. Her attempts to remain casual and unbothered came across as aloof and apathetic.

Ever observant, Wolffe commented on her unusual behavior yesterday morning. Flustered by his shrewd gaze and her tiny, persistent tug of yearning she tried and failed to snip away, she told him to mind his own business and then left. They hadn’t been alone since, though she had felt the heat of his gaze on her face most of dinner last night.

The drive to Hollow’s Town blurred in a tunnel of green and lightening skies. Typically, Kazi would appreciate the watery streaks of orange and the tendrils of a blooming sun, but her mind was too focused elsewhere. Namely, on the fear choking her.

As a child, her mother told her stories about shooting stars. The stories were all the same: When you wished upon a star, your wish would come true. It might take months, perhaps decades, but it would come true.

Over the years, her wish remained the same. A wish for romantic companionship. It was a secret she shared with dying stars, and dying stars only. Daria used to tease her for her secrecy, but she didn’t care. Her wish was special.

As she matured, though, Kazi realized the foolishness of her wish.

Solitude couldn’t hurt her.

Companionship could ruin her.

Because it would never last.

And yet she yearned for it. She yearned for the intimacy of trust and emotional connection. She yearned for the vulnerability of private conversations, lingering looks, and quiet moments. She yearned for soft touches and held hands and comfort beneath sheets.

She yearned for Wolffe in a way she didn’t deserve, and it scared her too, too much.

“Kazi?”

The voice startled her from both her spinning thoughts and aimless wandering and, straightening, she nodded at Fehr. The older woman was dressed in loose trousers and a long-sleeve work shirt, her hair braided in an elaborate crown atop her head. She appeared ready for a long day at her farm. But it was the knowing look in her sharp gaze—the scrutinous intrigue belying her insouciant expression—that disconcerted Kazi.

“Early morning?”

“Something like that,” Kazi said, surveying her current location and noting her position on the outskirts of the Square.

Fehr glanced at the chrono on her wrist. “You can join me for breakfast.”

Her unapologetic tone brokered no room for argument, and Kazi bit the inside of her cheek, silently berating herself for not being mindful of her surroundings. She exhaled a mirthless breath and followed her fellow rebel.

Fifteen minutes later and they were sitting outside a local café, the sole eatery open this early in the morning. A basket of cinnamon bread and mugs of steaming chocolate mush littered their cozy table. Kazi let her gaze wander from Fehr to the distant sky.

Since the Square sat on a hill, it provided a stunning display of Eluca’s orange sunrise, the clouds flickering flames of a fire. The top of the sun, dark yellow and demanding attention, had breached the horizon.

Sipping from her drink, Kazi observed the few patrons of the morning. A weathered man stood beside his flower stall, a girl—most likely his granddaughter—was cutting the stalks of the bouquets she was preparing. Kazi returned her attention to Fehr.

Months had passed since she last connected with Fehr or any of the rebels, outside of Carinthia. She hadn’t minded the distance and lack of communication. She still harbored a grudge against Fehr’s political maneuvering.

Setting aside her mug, she breached the silence. “Is the network in need of something from me?”

“No.” Fehr plopped a piece of cinnamon bread into her mouth, chewing pensively. “We can speak together outside of the network. I hope you’re aware of that.”

Kazi lifted an eyebrow. “The network is the only thing that matters to you.”

“Your assessment is more accurate for Bash.” Fehr paused. “Possibly Carinthia.”

“But not you?”

Fehr eyed her warily. “You think poorly of me, Kazi, and I don’t blame you. I took advantage of your circumstances and used them to benefit the network’s mission. I wouldn’t trust myself either.”

The honesty in her voice surprised Kazi and she studied Fehr closer. Assessed the wrinkles deepening her eyes and the heaviness dulling her silver eyes.

“When I met you, I saw a young woman burdened by the Empire,” Fehr said quietly. “Your skills, while not truly exceptional in the grander scheme of the network, were good enough for us to use. I thought you would be enraged, and I wanted to channel your rage to the detriment of the Empire. I was wrong.”

Kazi clenched her mug. “What do you mean you were wrong?”

“You lacked the rage I wanted—”

“I was angry at the Empire. I still am,” she interrupted. Her left hand started to tremble and she fisted it in her lap. “Don’t think for one minute that I wasn’t affected by the Empire’s invasion of my planet—”

“You were upset, but you were too distracted by other things.” Fehr stared at her pointedly and Kazi pursed her lips. “I thought you would jump at the opportunity to infiltrate the Empire and secure the intel we needed. I thought you could become an essential spy. But you lacked the desire to do so, and I realized, belatedly, my analysis of your character was inaccurate.”

A waiter joined them on the patio, readjusting the floral vines decorating the front of the café. Kazi took the moment of silence to neutralize her expression and collect her thoughts. She hadn’t known the depth of Fehr’s planning—the expectations. Knowing the network wanted to hone her anger to their benefit unsettled her.

The moment the waiter returned inside, Fehr leaned across the table. “The network has one goal: to defeat the Empire.”

“I’m aware,” Kazi deadpanned.

“You’re not aware of it all.” Fehr’s voice was sharp, full of warning. “Command is willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve their goal. They’re not bound by morals and ethics. They’re willing to damn themselves for their cause.”

It wasn’t news to Kazi, and yet the seriousness lining Fehr’s features—the way her eyes darted around the café, as if she feared someone was listening or watching—sent a shiver of unease down her spine. Surreptitiously, she reconsidered their surroundings, noting each person present.

“Command believes in playing by the Empire’s rules,” Fehr said, “and they will sacrifice anyone.”

Disregarding the erratic falter of her heart, Kazi lounged back in her chair, forcing herself to appear detached. Unflappable. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m warning you.” Fehr glanced at the street, her lips pressing together. “Don’t upset Command.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“What about the clones?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What of them?”

Fehr started to speak and then paused, her gaze sweeping across Kazi’s face. “The clones made demands during negotiations.”

“I was there.”

“We renewed negotiations a month and a half ago. Bash, Carinthia, and me, along with the three commanders.”

She blinked her bewilderment. “Why?”

“They had certain demands and we felt you weren’t needed.” The woman seemed unsurprised by Kazi’s irritation, finishing her drink with an uncaring grace. She tilted her head to the side. “I wasn’t aware you had grown so close to them.”

Kazi chuckled bitterly. “Cohabitation will do that to people.”

“One of the clones’ demands was to release you from your work for the network.” Kazi dug her fingernails into her thigh, trying hard to hide her shock. It must not have worked because Fehr offered her a small, tired smile. “Bash struck it down but the clones were persistent. We came to an agreement: The work we requested of you would be vetted and approved by the clones first.”

Looking away, toward the black panther statue prowling the Square’s fountain, Kazi mulled the news, clamping down on her annoyance. Of course Wolffe would interfere without telling her. Of course he would ignore her requests to stay out of her business.

“This angered Command,” Kazi assumed.

“Command doesn’t know the entirety of the story.” At her nonplussed frown, Fehr released a heavy sigh. “The network’s most recent actions have…bothered me.”

“Is that so?” She ran a finger along the side of her mug. “Have you realized they’ll sacrifice you for their cause? That they’ll do it without even hesitating?”

“I joined the network out of a self-righteous desire to save the galaxy,” Fehr said. “A year ago, the network was small and confined, dedicated to undermining the Empire. But we had morals—we had lines we wouldn’t cross.”

Kazi nodded in understanding. The beginnings of rebellions were always simple, numbered with people willing to make immediate sacrifice for the long term. But as weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, one thing became clear: You couldn’t win through morals and ethics.

Most people never realized the true cost of rebellion. The cost of yourself. Because war—rebellion—required apathetic decision-making and a willingness to set aside personal ethics for a greater good.

“I saw people hurting,” Fehr said. “And I was willing to do what was necessary to undermine the Empire. I didn’t question the actions of the new leadership.” She searched the Square once more and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “There are fanatics in the network. Bash is one of them. I will do what I can do to protect you and your family, but don’t cause trouble, Kazi, and tell the clones to lay low.”

The sheer vehemence in Fehr’s tone, her constant vigilance, unnerved Kazi. Unease slithered beneath her skin and she flattened her hands beneath her thighs to mask their shaking. “Is Bash going to reveal the men?”

“Their intel is too good to lose.” Fehr wrapped the remaining piece of cinnamon bread in a napkin. “So long as they remain necessary, they’re safe.”

All this time and Kazi hadn’t considered the precarity of the men’s situation with the network. And now, knowing Wolffe intervened—knowing the men were painting targets on their backs because of her—was both frustrating and disquieting. The network was her problem. Not theirs.

“Commander Wolffe seems…protective.” The comment drew her from her musings and Kazi tensed, throwing Fehr a bland look. Shrewd assessment narrowed the older woman’s gaze. “How are you getting along?”

“Fine,” Kazi remarked.

Fehr studied her for a long, quiet moment, her expression akin to sympathy. The woman chuckled and pushed herself to her feet, setting a handful of credits atop the table.

“Solitude is a lovely thing,” Fehr said conversationally. “And more people should appreciate its beauty.” She levelled Kazi with a hard look. “Solitude feels safe and empowering. But spend too much time alone, and you’ll have to ask yourself: Is your solitude freeing, or is it lonely?”

Frowning, Kazi eyed the woman before her.

Fehr smiled tightly. “I never opened myself to the possibility of being vulnerable with someone. Of loving someone. And I regret being so afraid.”

Half an hour later, still seated alone at the bustling café’s table, Kazi searched the sunrise for an answer to a question she refused to ask herself.

I regret being so afraid.

The phrase whispered in her ear like a haunting ghost. She hated the whisper; hated the hopelessness in the words; hated her understanding.

Kazi watched the arcing sun for a long time.

“I can read to you.” The offer was out of her mouth before Kazi could consider its merit, and she winced, biting the inside of her cheek to mask her embarrassment.

Cuddling the stuffed animal Cody gifted her a week ago, Neyti looked up from the half-open book on her lap, surprise furrowing her eyebrows.

It was later than usual, far past Neyti’s bedtime. But, since the men spent the late evening outside indulging in an expensive bourbon Fox had stolen from the last base they infiltrated, Kazi decided to make the night fun for Neyti, too.

Together, she, Neyti, and Daria baked a cherry pie, and they enjoyed it while watching a holofilm Neyti chose. A popular film about a fox and a hound. One of Kazi’s favorites.

Grinning, Neyti scooted to the edge of her bed and patted the vacated seat. Kazi chuckled her relief, settling into the pillows.

“Where do we start?” she asked. Neyti flipped the pages to the latter half of the book, and Kazi smiled, starting on the new story. “Once upon a time there was a princess.”

Five minutes later and Neyti was deep asleep, her stuffed whale cocooned between her arms.

A bookmark placed for tomorrow night, Kazi pressed a light kiss to Neyti’s forehead, turned off the lights, and returned downstairs.

The front door’s lock was checked. The living room and kitchen’s windows’ curtains were closed. The couch blanket was folded. Pillows were fluffed. From an open window in the sunroom, the hum of nocturnal bugs thrummed, and as Kazi started to pull the curtains together, she paused.

The men were sparring.

Shirtless, sweat slicking their skin beneath the moons’ light, Wolffe and Fox circled one another. The former sported a cut to his lip and the latter a bluing bruise on his cheek. Fox said something—a taunt based on Cody and Nova’s laughter—and Wolffe grinned, his teeth bloody. A sharp jab earned a harsh huff from Fox.

Kazi shook her head, but she didn’t look away.

Chests heaving, the two men exchanged punches. A jab at Fox’s ribs turned into a punch at Wolffe’s stomach.

Blood trickled down Wolffe’s chin and he spat a wad of it into the ferns. It was a feint. And Fox fell for it. Wolffe threw him to the ground. Cody called the match.

The men started for the house and, hastily, Kazi turned her attention to folding an already folded-blanket. The back door swung open. Wolffe and Fox moved to the partition separating the sunroom and living area. They both paused, standing together, their murmurs quiet. An effective barrier to her escape.

Sighing her exasperation, Kazi straightened Wolffe’s puzzle, mindful of his color-coordinated piece groupings. Cody and Nova trudged into the house, bid her goodnight, and left.

The sunroom was tidy—someone had recently cleaned, and it wasn’t her, which was confusing—and she glanced at Wolffe and Fox. Either noticing her stare or finished with their conversation, they broke apart. Fox clapped Wolffe on the shoulder, winked at Kazi, and then followed his two other brothers.

Kazi and Wolffe were alone.

It wasn’t a novel situation; they spent lots of time alone, considering their morning routines overlapped. But something about tonight—something about the calculation in Wolffe’s gaze—made her well aware of their aloneness.

Wolffe approached her, the top clasps of his shirt unfastened and his sleeves carelessly rolled to his elbows. His lip was slightly swollen; a hint of blood darkened the corner of his mouth. Nighttime shadows complemented his appearance, emphasizing the strength of his jaw and the black of his hair, caressing the veins of his forearms and the muscles in his neck.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Wolffe said.

The warmth of his voice told her he was teasing, and a smile tugged at her mouth, the urge more common these days. She rubbed her arm, awkwardly trying to scrub away the truth. The truth that he made her smile.

“I haven’t planted the seeds you gave me.” She angled her chin to the packet sitting on the game table beside his puzzle. The packet she had brought downstairs before the holofilm. “I wasn’t sure if they had specific instructions, and I didn’t want—”

“I can show you.” Wolffe closed the distance between them. The beginning of a smirk revealed itself. “I’ll go slow for you.”

“How magnanimous.” She rolled her eyes to hide her amusement.

Apparently Wolffe had been waiting for her request because he was quick to retrieve a large black pot from the garage. A pot he purchased weeks ago. It was large enough to house a lissome tree, and heavy enough he grunted from exertion as he set it beside a window.

Kazi stood back, shifting between her feet, wanting to help but not wanting to get in his way. Wolffe left a second time and returned with a nine-kilogram bag.

“It protects against disease,” he said, noticing her subtle attempt to read the fertilizer’s package. “This plant isn’t native. And it struggles to survive outside its home planet. The fertilizer should strengthen it.”

Bemused by the plant’s history, Kazi considered the tiny seeds in her palm. “What is it?”

Wolffe ignored her question, and she decided not to press him, sprinkling the seeds into the soil. Together, they buried the seeds. The soil was cool to her hands, drier than Eluca’s natural soil and it smelt familiar—

A flash of lightning splintered the black sky. Thunder roared, a lulling echo across the jungle’s hills.

Chilled dirt clumped her palms and Kazi sat back on her haunches, wiping her hands clean with a rag Wolffe tossed her. She watched him clean his own hands. “When were you going to tell me about your deal with the network?”

His shoulders grew rigid; annoyance clenched in his jaw. Wary eyes met hers. “Who told you?”

“That was dangerous,” she said, bypassing his question. “You now have targets on your backs—”

“It’s not your concern.” Wolffe continued to wipe his hands on the dirty rag. “We knew the risks. The reward outweighed them.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you interfere?” She frowned at him. “You don’t owe us anything. You shouldn’t risk your lives for us.”

Slowly, Wolffe folded the rag and set it atop the table, levelling the full weight of his gaze on her. His expression was unapologetic. Unflinching. “Why do you think I did it?”

“I don’t know.” She curled her fingers into the brim of the pot, trying to steady the increasing beat of her heart. She didn’t want to assume things—she refused to assume things. “I don’t…”

“You’re intelligent, Ennari. You’re a brilliant analyst.” Wolffe ran his tongue along his teeth. “And yet you’re fucking oblivious”—he shook his head—“Never mind.”

Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair and pushed himself to his feet, leaving her alone. The sound of the kitchen sink drifted to the sunroom.

Kazi moved to the windows. Loosening her braids and slipping the ties into a pocket, she watched the electric storm outside. Flashes of lightning burst; the clouds they hid behind glowed eerily.

It seemed nature roiled with its emotions. Kazi could relate.

Soft footfalls alerted her to Wolffe’s return.

The silence between them hesitated, teetering with unspoken confessions.

Wolffe stood close enough their arms brushed. The back of his hand grazed hers.

“We had storms like this. On Kamino,” he said quietly. “When I was young, I thought the waves would swallow our building and we’d drown. I woke up early every morning to practice my swimming in case it happened.”

“Always so prepared,” she murmured.

“I like to be.” He rolled his shoulders back. “I don’t like to enter a situation without knowing my advantages and my opponent’s strengths. I assess the complications and calculate the risk and reward. Only then do I make a decision.”

Another flicker of lightning seared the sky but her eyes remained on Wolffe.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore.” Tentatively, he lifted a hand to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to pretend I’m not interested in you.”

Her hands started to tremble.

“I want to try things,” he said.

His tone was resolute in his decision, but she detected a modicum of vulnerability. A hint of fear.

Cottony panic suffocated her lungs.

Yearning, soft as an embrace yet insistent as a kiss, urged her forward.

But she couldn’t move.

Such cold, teeth-aching fear swallowed her, a creature of dark pits latched onto her ankle and dragging her far, far below. She looked away, out the window at the harshening lightning.

Because she couldn’t bear the intensity of his gaze. The unspoken desires. The gentle promises.

“Look at me.”

Her heart cowered in her chest and she shook her head. She wasn’t meant for the softness in his voice, the longing in his eyes.

She was meant to be alone. Solitude couldn’t hurt her.

Solitude would never abandon her.

“Look at me.”

His tone was harder yet still gentle, like a steadying hand on an elbow. No longer a request, it was a command. An order.

But to look him in the eye would quiet her doubts and unleash the yearning she was struggling to withhold. It was escaping, a rope burning her palms as the control of her head gave way to the want of her heart.

She was scared. She was so fucking scared.

“Kazi.” He said her name like it was a question and an answer; he said it in such a soft, intimate way she wanted to run far, far away.

Two fingers tilted her chin back and forced her to meet his gaze. His thumb slid along her jaw and she shivered.

“You’re overthinking things,” Wolffe said calmly. He cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. The expression on his face was steady. An anchor for the worst of a storm. “Trust me with this.”

“I don’t know how to,” she whispered.

“I know.” Softly, a hand palmed her waist and Wolffe lowered his face to hers. “But I’ve got you.”

“You don’t want this.”

He released a hoarse scoff. “You have no idea what I want.”

Their lips brushed, the barest of a grazing, and Kazi angled her head back, wanting more yet withholding herself. Wolffe paused. A mere hairsbreadth separated their faces, and she leaned forward, just enough their lips touched, her lashes fluttering as she sighed.

An unspoken permission; an unspoken request.

Wolffe moved, his mouth skimming hers. He pulled back a fraction. Their eyes met, and he closed the distance, seeking her, his upper lip embracing her cupid’s bow.

He was soft, chaste in his intent.

Warmth flushed her cheeks, honeyed and thick, and, gods, she wanted more. Needed more. She reached for his bicep, squeezing him, feeling the sheer corporeality of him. His muscles tensed beneath her touch, and Wolffe gripped her waist harder, his fingers slipping beneath her sweater. They were coarse against the skin of her lower back, exploring her spine, touching and grasping and desperate.

Desire quivered through her body and she snagged his belt. Pulled him closer. Pulled him flush to her body.

Wolffe released a low groan that had her nipples tingling. The restraint he exercised—the control of his kiss, the careful patience in his touches—snapped. He kissed her harder, and Kazi clung to the back of his neck, silently begging for him to stay. To not let go. To taste her and pleasure her and know her.

The hand on her cheek drifted beneath her jaw, hooking. Gentle possessiveness flexed in his fingers. Wolffe teased the seam of her mouth, and she parted her lips, his tongue brushing hers, light and cautious, a playful plea to indulge. So she did, flicking the tip of her tongue to his.

At her gasp for air, Wolffe moved lower, kissing beneath her jaw, trailing light touches down her neck while guiding her backwards. Her back hit the windows and she tilted her head back, sighing at the ardent press of his mouth to her throat. He reached her collarbone and sucked on her skin, sucked and bit.

Heat thrummed in her blood; her breasts were heavy, tight with need. She played with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shuddering and gasping as Wolffe sucked on the joint between her neck and shoulder. Desperation groaned against her skin and Wolffe pressed her fully against the window, the hand on her neck trembling.

Their breaths were heavy when Wolffe leaned back, just enough to stare her in the eye. Darkened desire, near feral in its intent, contrasted the gentle brush of his thumb beneath her jaw.

Wolffe kissed her again. Slower, deeper. She could feel him smiling against her lips, and her own smile answered in return.

With each of his kisses, with each curious, slow stroke of their tongues, Kazi wanted more. She wanted to feel him—to feel his skin against hers, to feel the shiver in his muscles as she touched him, to feel the heat of his body consuming her. She wanted his naked body pressed to hers, his arms around her and his legs entangled with hers until their bodies were inseparable.

She wanted all of him, and it was so, so wrong of her.

Nestling a palm between the unbuttoned clasps of his shirt, Kazi flattened her hand to Wolffe’s chest. Heated skin licked at her fingers. The rapid beat of his heart kissed her palm.

Even though the touch was minimal, Wolffe moaned a ragged “Fuck.”

The rasp of his voice was hoarse and he ground his hips into her stomach. He was hard, and the feel of him—the reminder of what they were doing—made her pull away. Wolffe lowered his gaze to the spot where he was grinding against her. His breaths were uneven, and he slotted a thigh between her legs, pressed it against her—

“Oh.” A jolt of pleasure, sharp and acute, ached between her legs and Kazi smacked the back of her head against the window.

“Ah, fuck.” Wolffe moved his thigh against her, his eyes half-hooded. “I’ve wanted—”

He cut himself off and kissed her. Kissed her with such need she was lost in him. Lost to his touches and unspoken demands for her attention.

The steady pressure of his thigh rubbed her harder. She moaned against his mouth, rolling her hips against him, seeking the relief he was providing. Uncontrollable thrusts rolled into her stomach and she slid her hand between their bodies, squeezing his cock.

“Fuck,” Wolffe hissed, jerking into her palm.

She watched him, watched the bob in his throat and the way his lashes fluttered, as she squeezed him harder. His groan, strained and pained, made her smile.

Distantly, she wondered if she got him off now, maybe he wouldn’t want to have sex. Maybe this would be enough for him, and then tomorrow, when she was thinking clearer, she could figure out what the fuck she was doing. Because the thought of sex—

Wolffe grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from his cock. She frowned at him.

“Will you…” He searched her face, swallowing. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he cleared his throat, inhaling a harsh breath. A subtle guardedness sharpened his eyes. “Will you regret this tomorrow?”

“No,” she said. And it was the truth—she could never regret him. “Will you?”

A small, sad smile curved his mouth.

“Never,” he murmured. “Never, Kazi.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, his hands clinging to her waist like he feared she might try to run.

It was late and she was tired and she wasn’t thinking, but she wanted him because it was only him she trusted; and she was so desperate for him to see her and choose her; and she needed to know that maybe she wasn’t so unlovable. That maybe this man she yearned for perhaps yearned a little for her too.

So she closed her eyes and, just for this moment, allowed herself to rest in the secure warmth of his presence, her hand still flattened to his chest. The beat of his heart caressed her palm, like the echo of a promise to his words.

Soon, though, Wolffe tensed beneath her hands, pulling his forehead from hers. He looked over his shoulder, his head cocked to the side, and then he straightened. A muscle flexed in his jaw and he glanced her over, adjusting her shirt, flattening a few pieces of her hair.

Understanding his intent, she buttoned his shirt. He hastily adjusted himself. They stepped apart just as Cody stalked into the room. Fox and Nova followed, the former glancing between her and Wolffe, suspicion furrowing his brows.

Tension radiated from the three men as palpable as Eluca’s humidity. Clenched jaws. Squared shoulders. Narrowed eyes.

Their unease made Kazi stiffen; her stomach coiled with apprehension.

“What happened,” Wolffe demanded.

“Just received an alert from Rex.” Disappointment hardened Cody’s voice and he nodded at the window. “See for yourself.”

Fisting her hands to hide their trembling, Kazi looked outside. Her heart stumbled to a halt.

For outside, bracketed by brilliant flashes of lightning, hung a Star Destroyer.

The Empire had arrived.

Masterlist | A Muse | Chapter 17

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe fanfiction #commander wolffe fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fan fiction

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years

Text

Lost & Found - 10

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: thanks for waiting! I normally post in the mornings but life happened and this is also a super important chapter (lol, they all are) that I needed to make sure was prepared to launch us into phase 3. (yesss, there are phases!) as always, thanks for reading, and let me know how it went!!

Chapter 10. Blue & Grey

series masterlist

Yuri steps into the back a moment later, coming to lean up against the counter beside me as I struggle to free myself from Taehyung’s gaze. In the span of a single blink, his eyes soften and he’s wearing a pleasant expression as Yuri begins to speak.

“You said you wanted to talk about something important with me?” Yuri urges, looking a little worried yet elated to have such prominent figures in her small bread shop. Namjoon nods hastily, sparing me a glance.

“Yes, thanks for seeing us. We know that this is a little...strange, perhaps. But we wanted to make sure everything was settled before things can get out of hand.”

Of course, my heart begins to race a little more. “What do you mean, ‘get out of hand’?”

For all the world, Taehyung looks like he’s ready to answer me, but Namjoon responds before he can get a chance. “Yuri, I’m assuming that you’re aware of Jolie’s, erm...accident.”

“Oh, of course,” she offers me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what that has to do with anything you’re here for.”

Namjoon and Taehyung share a look before turning back to Yuri and I. Clinging to my apron which I have yet to remove, I pray that they can’t see the slight tremor in my hands. A thought passes through my mind, completely unbidden and foreign. Before I’m able to stop myself, the words dive off my tongue.

“Is...is he alright?”

Taehyung’s gaze snaps to me, brows furrowing as he looks genuinely confused. Namjoon, however, takes in my white knuckles and hunched shoulders, and gently smiles.

Before Namjoon can reassure me, however, Taehyung jumps in. “He’s fine. We’re here to discuss other things, however.”

The way that Namjoon doesn’t say anything to cross Taehyung has me realizing that while he may be the leader, this is a completely different ballgame.

It’s me, Jimin’s disgraced soulmate, against Taehyung, his proclaimed soulmate.

I know a losing game when I see one.

“Right. Yuri, we’ve got to discuss some sensitive information with you today. Would you be willing to sign an NDA?” Namjoon steers us back on course, even as Yuri glances back and forth between Taehyung and I.

“Oh. Y-yes, of course.”

Clapping his hands together, Namjoon dives right in. “Perfect. Well, I would like to discuss a few things with you. Taehyung-”

“Yep.” Without leaving me an opportunity to ask questions, Taehyung is coming to stand before me. “While Namjoon is explaining some things to your boss, we’re going to have a chat.”

Glancing over at Namjoon, who is leading Yuri to one corner of the large room, near the storage area, I receive no mercy. When I turn to look back at Taehyung, I catch him staring down at my thread with a faraway look in his eyes.

Needing to have something to keep me going while I receive what I’m sure is going to be a royal chewing out, I turn to head over to the worktable.

“You talk, I’ll knead.”

✂

I’ve learned something about Taehyung in the past few minutes.

He doesn’t hate me as much as he would like for me to think he does.

It was quiet for a long moment as I sprinkled flour over the worktable and pulled out a slab of dough I had been planning to let some of the other employees use later on in the day. With my heart in my throat, I began to beat it into shape. For about a minute, the only sound in the workroom was the sound of the dough against the table and Namjoon’s hushed conversation with Yuri.

Taehyung sidles next to me, the silence suddenly becoming blaringly loud as he watches my hands. Over and over again, I roll the dough. Once it’s sufficiently loose and pliable, I begin to shape it.

“So this is your job?”

He can’t keep the curious tone out of his voice, and I glance over at him to see his wide eyes flitting between me and the dough. Almost as though he can’t quite believe it.

“What did you think I did?” I ask, not able to refrain from my sarcastic streak. “Buried bodies?”

Just like that, whatever angry storm clouds were lingering in his eyes dissipate and he laughs. Laughs loud enough that both Namjoon and Yuri pause in their conversation before continuing.

“Honestly,” he confesses, “something like that. Yeah.”

I snort, returning to the dough. “Nice.”

“Do you think you can teach me?”

“How to bake bread?” I ask, curious at his change in attitude. I see him nod in my peripheral.

“Yeah. I think it looks amazing. Very therapeutic.” He pauses, and I can almost see the thought bubble hovering over his head. “We have a pretty big table at the house, you could probably use it. Or does it have to be a certain material?”

A part of me freezes under the nonchalant mention of the house he shares with my soulmate. The way he’s testing the waters, assessing me for any kind of reaction.

Another thing that I’m learning about Kim Taehyung: he picks up on everything.

“Er...what kind of table is it? Like, is it a countertop or-”

“Oh, yeah. The big one is the kitchen island. It’s a granite countertop I think...Namjoon hyung!”

There’s no need to yell, but he does anyway.

“What?” Namjoon asks, bewildered but used to this kind of behavior.

Taehyung turns back to me, shrugging. “It probably is. Would that work?”

I blink, wondering if it’s ok for me to laugh at what just happened. Shouldering through it, I focus on the dough again. “Yeah, granite’s great for dough.”

Taehyung looks lost in thought, but I’m starting to realize that I should always be on my toes around him. Indeed, he recovers quickly and decides to finally discuss what he came here to talk about.

“I’m assuming your boss doesn’t know what really happened,” he states quietly enough that there’s no way Yuri can hear him from across the room. A simple shake of my head is all it takes to confirm what he said. Glancing around the room, he notices the back door.

“I think it might be best if we step out back for a moment.” Taehyung takes a step toward the door before stopping to look back at me where I stand with the dough still in my hands. “Unless you need to finish that first…?”

I shake my head, pushing the dough back into a metal bowl and covering it up with a cloth. Wiping my floury hands on my apron, I follow Taehyung to the back alleyway. The sun is nearing the highest point in the sky, bearing down on us and filling my bones up with a little warmth despite the general chill in the air.

Taehyung makes his way to the opposite wall of the alley, looking around as though checking for spies before facing me. There’s no need for me to question him as to what’s going on, he can see the question clearly in my eyes.

“We have a Muster coming up in less than two days,” he begins, crossing his arms. “Jimin is going to perform on stage for the final song.”

It takes a moment for me to fully understand what that means.

“They’ll see what happened,” Taehyung continues, watching my every movement. “And I think it’ll be all too easy for people to see you and instantly accuse you. Which, they won’t be wrong. But still, it could get ugly.”

I know what he’s implying. Suddenly life will become a burning hell for the scarce few that have a severed thread. Which, by my understanding, is no more than a handful.

Immediately my thoughts go to Christina. “What about those people that have nothing to do with it but could be accused?” It would be devastating for her to think that she’d been the one to bring Jimin so much pain.

Taehyung tilts his head to one side. “You keep surprising me.” Before I can ask what he means, he continues. “That’s what we’re here for today. In order to protect those people and you, Bighit has to come up with some sort of cover story. Make it really seem like an accident. We just need to keep you out of sight while things get straightened out.”

Dread, cold as ice as just as sharp, sluices through my veins. “No.”

I can tell that this, at least, Taehyung was expecting. “You don’t have a choice-”

“So you want me to hide away forever?” I hiss, rocking back on my heels. “People will find out soon enough. And they’ll rip me to shreds!”

That cold fire from before is back and blazing in Taehyung’s eyes as he listens to my objections. “No! They won’t, that’s the whole point. They’ll understand that it was an accident-”

“Which they’ll immediately want to fix!” I shout, the sound echoing down the alleyway. “You don’t understand, no matter what you tell people, this ends up with me being forced right back where I was before.”

“And where was that?” Taehyung seethes, taking a step forward and making me stumble back. Those hawk-like eyes see how I react, but there’s no pity in them. “How horrible for you to be stuck with someone that would only love you. That would never ask for anything in return. That just wanted - wants still - nothing more than to be linked to you in any way possible.”

The confession falls flat in the face of my fear, however it’s something I know will come back to haunt me later. Instead, I allow my roaring emotions to take over even as I find that my back is now pressed against the wall.

“Of course I want that!” I shout, and Taehyung blinks. “Of course I want him! Did you want me to go to your house and grovel at his feet for forgiveness, and then teach you how to bake bread like some big happy family? Did you want me to tell you all about how the first and last thing I think about every day is Park Jimin and how I know the perfect way to hate myself for cutting this?” Throwing my hand up into the air I bite down the sobs that try to surface. “I sat and watched this thread burn not because I didn’t want him, but because I had to remove myself from his life before I could enter it.”

I can see the objection brewing in Taehyung’s mind, but I stop him.

“Jimin is not the problem,” I sigh out, utterly exhausted. “He became everything to me the second I saw him, but he is everything to everyone. I...I can’t be that. I don’t think I ever can.”

Taehyung’s eyes clear, and he looks down at me with sudden understanding. I want to lash out, writhe under that understanding, but I can’t stop the way his thoughts seemingly click together.

“I- Jolie, you’re not a puzzle that’s missing a piece. You don’t have to suddenly click into a pattern that everyone else has. You’re a human being,” Taehyung says reverently, and I wonder for a moment if someone has said this to him before. “You are allowed to just bake bread for the rest of your life, if you want. Nobody is going to ask you to stand on the stage, not even Jimin.”

“But I feel like I shouldn’t keep doing the same thing if I’m with him. I have to be more, somehow.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Taehyung admits. “Just because you’re allowed to be comfortable and hide away doesn’t mean you should. It’s tempting, I’ll give you that much.” He shrugs, still looking at me with that new light. “But you’re allowed to learn at your own pace, venture out of your comfort zone when you feel brave enough to do it. Just know this: most people never feel brave enough but do it anyway.”

“Why?”

Holding up his left hand where his deep red thread extends to the ground and through the back door, he smiles softly. “We deem the risk worth it, in the end.”

I’m just processing the fact that I had a screaming match with Taehyung when Namjoon pokes his head out into the alleyway. Both Taehyung and I turn to face him, looking guilty.

“I told you that I’d have to end up explaining everything,” he remarks drily. “Did you two manage to discuss the plan?”

Somehow, as Taehyung and I sheepishly shake our heads, I feel like I’ve made an ally in an enemy.

✂

Jolie (Elle): This is me telling you that I’m still alive, as you requested.

Me: Wow. That bad of a day? Are you going to take a nap?

Jolie (Elle): Literally as soon as I get home. I have to stop by the store and grab some cat food, Elle nearly murdered me in my sleep over it last night.

Me: I can literally feel your exhaustion through the phone.

Me: Was work ok??

Jimin has to wait a little while for a response. He just got a text from Namjoon, notifying him that they were headed to the Bighit building. When he asked him how it went with Jolie, he’d only received a vague answer.

It did nothing to calm his nerves. Especially knowing that Taehyung, even though he’d promised him that he’d stay calm, had gone in there with no shortage of wrath.

Jolie (Elle): Fine

He’d been afraid of that.

Me: 😟

Me: I’m so sorry, sounds like today has officially sucked

Jimin stares down at his phone, waiting for some sort of response.

Jolie (Elle): No need to apologize.

Jolie (Elle): It was my fault anyways.

“No,” Jimin whispers to himself, eyes wide as his fingers fly across the screen. Before he can even think about the message, he sends it. All he wants is to stop this ache in his chest that he’s sure Jolie feels as well.

Me: I wish I was there.

Three little dots appear on his screen, Jolie typing a message, but then they disappear. A moment later, they come back and a message follows.

Jolie (Elle): It’s fine, really. Texting is enough, I really appreciate it

The butterflies that erupt in Jimin’s stomach are enough to make a grown man cry, but he knows deep down that a text is not enough. Bringing his phone to his ear, he listens to the ringing. Taehyung and Namjoon walk through the door of the practice room right as Jimin begins to speak.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order.”

✂

There’s something on my porch.

I noticed the little pop of color as I began up the stairs to my apartment, carrying a grocery bag with catnip and a bar of chocolate, my excuse for a pickmeup. It wasn’t until I made it to the top of the stairs that I realized what it was that was waiting for me.

A bouquet of flowers. Hydrangeas, white and pink hydrangeas are waiting for me. They have a dewy shimmer to them, catching the sunlight just right.

Obviously, this is a mistake.

“Elle, look at these,” I coo as I shoulder open the door. Immediately the white cat appears, sniffing at the bag filled with catnip rather than the flowers. “Nooo, not that. The flowers.”

She doesn’t care about the flowers, apparently. Giving in, I gingerly set the flowers on the counter and get to work setting her food out. Once Elle is feasting away, I turn back to the flowers.

“Now, who were you supposed to be delivered to?” I hum, plucking the small envelope from amidst the arrangement. Taking a generous whiff, I close my eyes as the sweet aroma fills my senses. “Ugh, whoever they are, they’re lucky. These are absolutely beautiful, don’t you think?”

Again, Elle proves that she really couldn’t care less about the floral arrangement on the counter. Except to maybe knock it over, perhaps.

Slipping open the envelope, I take in the short message.

Jolie,

Because a text isn’t enough.

-PJM

“PJM?”I breathe out, staring at those initials with wide eyes. My breath comes up short as I reread the card again and again, flipping it over to see if there’s anything else. Some sort of clue.

“Elle, these are for us.”

The only response I get is a lazy swish of her tail, but I’m not paying attention to her anyway. All I’m looking at is that bouquet of flowers that’s meant for me after all.

Ripping my phone out of my back pocket, I open it up to my text conversation with Jaemin. Scrolling through his concerned texts, trying to see if I’m doing alright. With shaking hands, I type out the letters.

Me: PJM?

✂

“She’s not ready to know the truth,” Taehyung reports.

Jimin sits beside him on the couch, arms crossed and looking out the window with a glazed expression. The other members listen to every word that Namjoon and Taehyung are saying, finally getting a full report of the events at the bread shop.

Nevermind the fact that it’s been hours and it’s nearly midnight.

“What? That Jimin’s actually Jaemin?” Jin stretches a little, bumping into Yoongi who hardly notices. “I mean, it’s not like it’s that much of a stretch.”

Taehyung shrugs, glancing over at Jimin who has yet to say anything. “We talked-”

“Screamed,” Namjoon corrects. Jimin perks up at this.

“What were you screaming about?”

Taehyung assesses his friend, deeming him capable of receiving this information. “You. Her own insecurities. Bread.”

“Bread?” Jungkook questions, but it goes unanswered.

“Some part of her wants to be with you,” Taehyung explains, completely overlooking Jungkook’s curious expression. “But she’s freaked out. Kind of like how Jungkook mentioned before, when you first started texting. She’s so in her own head that it’s hard for her to see that you wouldn’t demand her to become some sort of celebrity.”

“She thinks that I would?” Jimin asks. He left his phone in his bedroom, deciding to leave Jolie’s simple question, PJM?, until after he’d had a chance to discuss it with everyone. He knew what she was asking. It was a deliberate choice of his to put his initials on the card rather than the fake name.

He couldn’t stomach her thinking that the flowers were from some random Jaemin, when they were in fact from him.

Her soulmate.

“No, not necessarily. She said that she feels like she would have to become something more, though. Purely because you are who you are. And I think that’s something that really scares her.”

It’s also something that Jimin doesn’t know how to fix. “If she’s not willing to get out of her own head, then how am I supposed to help her?”

Namjoon pipes up. “She seemed a lot better, though. I think, whatever she’s doing, she’s getting better. Chung-hei mentioned that she’s seeing a therapist, actually.”

Jimin sits back. “Good. That’s good.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “What did she say about the plan?”

The plan. It wasn’t much of a plan. In reality, it was more of a precaution than anything. They all knew that everything would be a mess after Jimin goes back into the public eye, and Jolie would be at risk by just stepping foot outside her door.

“She agreed to be chauffeured,” Namjoon says. “I mean, obviously she’s not happy about it, but she said she understood.”

Jolie would be picked up in the morning and after her shift by a nondescript car driven by Bighit employees. Anytime she needed groceries, they would pick them up for her. Do anything they can to keep her out of the public eye.

“I’m kind of surprised that she agreed,” Jimin admits. “Maybe that’s a good sign?”

There’s a grumble of agreement, and soon after the boys are dispersing. Only one day left until the Muster, tomorrow was going to be busy with final rehearsals and preparations.

Jimin heads up to his room, laying on his bed and staring at the short message from hours earlier.

Jolie (Elle): PJM?

Sighing and ignoring the nerves in his stomach, Jimin just prays that all is not lost.

Me: Yes?

For now, she’s asleep. He doesn’t expect a response anytime soon. Rolling over and facing the wall, Jimin tries his best to close his eyes and let everything roll off his shoulders.

She’s bound to find out sometime.

✂

Jimin’s hands are sweaty as he paces below stage, listening to the roar of the crowd as his brothers perform above him.

The Muster came all too quickly.

Yesterday passed in a blur, consisting of Jimin checking his phone every few minutes only to find it void of any incoming messages. In his heart of hearts, he knew.

She must suspect that her newfound friend is her soulmate in disguise.

It’s with this knowledge that Jimin steps onto the lift, waiting for his brothers to finish their goodbyes before going up for the encore performance.

Looking around him, Jimin watches the staff and stage crew bustling about, preparing for the end of the Muster. Needless to say, his gaze wanders to the countless threads that overlap and lead in every direction. It’s always amazed him, how they never get tangled. How nobody ever trips over them.

Jimin has always marveled at the fact that somehow, somewhere on the other end of those threads is another person. Someone just as busy, just as oblivious to the lifeform attached to them through indescribable means.

Park Jimin has always been told that he would be the best soulmate.

He’s kind, and considerate. Loving and forgiving beyond all comprehension.

It’s something that he has believed is a lie. Every night, even before Jolie cut the very thing that tied them together, he’d lay in bed and stare at that red thread. Wondering what would happen when his soulmate was inevitable disappointed in the fact that their star-studded soulmate was just...him.

Tonight though, as the lift carries him up toward the stage and the beginning cords of “Blue & Grey” begin to play, he begins to believe.

He would be the best soulmate.

Perhaps this is the moment where he proves it. Without hatred, without envy. Without a wounded look in his eyes.

With that conviction humming in his bones, he rises to the stage and walks out under the spotlight.

The arena around him booms with sound as Jimin walks toward where his brothers sit in a semicircle. They gleam with sweat, still breathing heavily after their last performance. As Jimin takes a seat, he looks out into the crowd.

He sees the exact moment they realize what’s missing.

Or rather, hears.

That roar of the crowd, his ARMY so happily welcoming him back to the stage after his long absence, turns to deafening silence.

Into the silence, Jimin sings.

Blue & Grey plays out, Jimin raising the mic to his mouth and singing his parts with a steady voice. He waits for the end, hoping that the CG team in charge of the large screen behind him was able to carry out his request in time.

Taehyung sings the final words, his voice carrying in the quiet arena. And behind Jimin, three letters are traced out across the screen.

PJM.

As soon as the song is finished, the boys get up from their seats and make their way to the lift. They shoot Jimin curious looks as they spot his initials, but he shrugs it off for now. He can only hope that the person it was intended for saw them.

They’ve just made it to the lift when the wailing begins, the crowd having finally broken free of the spell that Blue & Grey wove over them.

“Saranghae Army!” Jimin shouts into the mic, smiling softly. The other members begin to bid them goodbye, reassuring them. They all know it will do little, already a few members of the crowd are inconsolable, but they do it nonetheless.

✂

“Twitter is blowing up right now,” Christina says, scrolling through her feed. I lay on her couch, staring at her television.

I’d come here to see if I sounded like a crazy person for taking Jaemin’s initials so seriously. However, I can’t shake the feeling of something being off.

Naturally, I’ve ignored the problem by not responding to him for a day. I’d say it’s a step up from what I’ve done in the past. At least I’m not cutting him out of my life, right?

“Isn’t it always blowing up over something?” I drawl. When I don’t get a response, I look over to see what the big deal is about.

Christina sits up in her chair, hand thrown over her mouth as her wide eyes stare at her phone.

“What? What happened?”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I...you need to see this.” Screen-sharing with her TV, a stage replaces our episode. “He went public. It’s official.”

Ah, right. I’d also come to give Christina a fair warning about what was about to happen. Jimin going public today was the other thing occupying all of my thoughts, but I didn’t realize just how big it would be until I see the impact he had at the Muster.

Heart racing and stomach churning, I watch as Jimin appears on stage.

“Wow, that’s a statement,” Christina comments. “Doing ‘Blue & Grey’ as his comeback song?” She catches my eye, realizing who she’s speaking to. “Oh. Right.”

As Jimin settles down and Taehyung begins to sing, I find myself utterly entranced by him. He looks calm. Confident.

The world falls silent in what I assume is the moment people begin to notice that there are only six, not seven, red threads up on stage tonight.

Jimin doesn’t falter in the silence. Instead, he fills it with his voice.

“I’d forgotten,” I croak out. The rest of the words won’t come easily, but thankfully Christina understands what I mean.

“Yeah. He has a beautiful voice, doesn’t he?”

Wordlessly, we watch the rest of the performance. I can’t help but notice the fact that the cameras never pan too far so as to not see Jimin. I’m sure that they’re just as shocked as everyone else is.

As the song comes to an end, I find that somehow my eyesight has become blurry. I can’t quite tell what’s on the screen behind the boys even as Christina begins to shout.

“Look! He- he’s confirming it! Look!”

Rubbing madly at my eyes, I get a closer look at what’s on the screen. The second I see it, I stop breathing altogether.

PJM.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

“It’s him.”

Christina leans forward as the video ends, looking at me for a moment before laughing. “I mean, are we actually surprised? He didn’t try that hard to hide it, now did he? Park Jaemin, seriously?”

As much as I would love to laugh at this moment, I find that I can’t.

My new friend. The one I would scramble to read whenever I got a notification. The one that constantly checked up on me.

The one obsessed with my cat.

“How?” I breathe out.

Christina doesn’t bother to offer a reply, just watching me as the gears shift in my head. No answers are forthcoming, of course. Just the small sliver of truth that keeps on coming back.

“My soulmate is my friend,” I say. It’s obvious, but it’s important.

Jimin is my friend.

Letting out a sigh, Christina nods. “Yes. Your friend.”

The only other coherent thought that crosses my mind has me getting to my feet and slipping my jacket on over my shoulders.

“I need to go.”

“What do you mean, ‘need to go’?” Christina gets up after me, following me to the door. “Aren’t we hitting a major breakthrough right now? Your estranged soulmate is also your friend. Park Jimin isn’t just some celebrity, he’s your friend. Someone you can trust. I mean, sure, this doesn’t mean you have to barge up to his house and see him. That would be weird anyways, because then the thread would reconnect and only extend a few feet, at least, that’s what I’ve heard. It’s weird, because it’s almost like the thread has a mind of its own, you know? In order to defend itself upon reconnection, it keeps a short distance between the soulmates until it's sure they’re safe-”

“Christina.” I turn around to face her, one hand on the door. “He’s my friend, right? A good friend.”

She nods, looking a little confused. “Yeah, I thought we already established that.”

“Friends deserve an explanation, right?”

Christina blinks, looking a little nervous. “You’re not going to visit him, right? You should take the proper precautions for that, you never know how the bond with react-”

“I’m not going to see him,” I reassure her. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

Before she can question me further, I’m out the door. Keeping my head down as I head out on the main road and pass a group of teenagers, I overhear their shocked conversation.

“How does that even work, though?”

“I don’t know, but my dad’s cousin nearly had his thread cut-”

“I bet it’s all for publicity,” another remarks. “Don’t know why they need it, though.”

“Why would they cut a thread for publicity? Idiot, it’s probably CG. Maybe they did it to raise awareness or something.”

I don’t get to hear how their conversation ends before a black SUV pulls off to the side of the road and a woman sticks her head out of the window.

“Hey,” she flashes the ID hanging around her neck. I recognize it as a Bighit ID. “Operation Chauffeur is in full effect now. Hop in.”

It’s unsettling how they found me so quickly, but I distinctly remember agreeing to this plan just a couple of days ago. Sliding into the backseat, I ask the driver to take me home.

“Your name is Jolie?” The woman asks, hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

“I’m Sunmi. Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

✂

As I finally bid Sunmi goodnight - she’s oddly friendly for a Bighit staff member that’s typically charged with driving BTS around - I stumble into my apartment and head straight toward my room. Elle hasn’t arrived back home yet, probably still out on her nightly jaunt.

Which, apparently included Jimin without me even knowing it.

Flipping the light on to my room, I see that the Seoul City Electric envelope is exactly where I left it.

Sitting down at my desk and finding an empty page in a notebook, I take a deep breath.

Once I exhale, I begin to write.

And write.

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