#he really is made of marshmallow spaghetti dreams and a hope

[ratatatastic]

you dont think mikksy shenanigans can get funnier until you see this guy stiffarm a cane because he did not appreciate getting shoved out of the crease. he will exit the crease at his own time! do not rush him! he is stubborn.

his proportions? wack.

carolina hurricanes @ florida panthers | 9.28.24

[daydreamindollie]

j.ww | soft hearted

Pairing: j.wonwoo x f.reader

Length: 13k

Genre: soulmate!au (kinda) ; university!au ; strangers2lovers ; domestic violence  

Summary: You were a sweet girl looking for love and protection, he was a stoic man avoiding love at all costs. It's only fitting that the two of you cross paths.

A/N: I really don't know how to feel about this fic or this alternate universe I came up with. I haven't planned everything out so that's why the roles of the hearts aren't as well described here or as influential to the plot as I want them to be but I'll be sure to establish the ordinance of this universe as soon as I can. I'm sorry if the plot seems rushed or fast-paced at all throughout this oneshot, I kept replanning, redrafting and rewriting it but, unfortunately, this is the version I am most satisfied with. I might edit this in the future but that all depends on how much time I have to spare because this took me ages! Oh my goodness! I hope it's a good read for you though! And, hopefully, the next member's story won't take as long as Wonwoo's

In a universe where people carry around their hearts, with some wearing them on their sleeves and others tucking them into the breast pocket of their blazers and out of people’s sight, Wonwoo appeared to be the only one adamant at keeping his at home and off his person when moving about. It wasn’t as though he was embarrassed by his heart or anything, it’s just that, carrying around his heart like most people usually would, was a heavy burden on him, quite literally. Everyone’s heart had a trait that matched the personality of the person they represented and, although they were all as unique as the person that owned them, they all had a similar trait. They were unbreakable - harder than diamond and more precious than any jewel. Despite this physical resilience to external forces, however, they can be fractured by one thing and one thing only: heartbreak.

Wonwoo’s heart was much like the rest in this quality, however, his heart had undergone a phenomenon he’d prefer to keep to himself rather than alert the cardiologists, who specialised in the field of hand-held hearts. Before his first heartbreak, Wonwoo’s heart was soft, in any way shape or form. Its surface was smooth like the finest silk and it was rather sizeable too, almost reaching farther than his fingertips when held in the center of his palm. Not only that but his heart had the viscosity of fluffy marshmallows. Looking back on the time his heart was of that state was laughable because it directly matched his personality: funny and sweet, soft and malleable to any given situation. Now, however, he was hardly like that and so was his heart.

Heartbreak really changed him as a person and usually, people who suffered through that would go through therapy or counseling with their heartbreaker in order to avoid any desperate change their heart and they, themselves, would make in response to the pain of heartbreak. Sometimes, breaking another person’s heart was punishable as a crime simply because of the adverse effect it can have on an individual, and so, it was always taught to children at a young age that when given the responsibility of another person’s heart, they should handle it with the utmost care. Wonwoo never had the pleasure of going through therapy or counseling for his heartbreak; he merely didn’t want the pity and stigma that came when people found out that he had gone through something like that, and he knows for certain that many people would be alerted of his suffering. If people had ever once been heartbroken in their lives it was put in their medical records as a signpost that their heart was more breakable now than before, he also didn’t want the sympathy of others if he were to enter the heartbreak clinic. He just wanted to avoid all the trivial attention.

And so, Wonwoo left his heart alone, to change and morph into stone. He didn’t know what stone it was but it was still as unbreakable as ever, with the exception of the damage heartbreak had brought - he wouldn’t dare test that out. Alongside the change of his heart, Wonwoo also made a drastic change in personality; now he was mostly silent and stoic, inclined to keep to just himself and his group of friends. He had become as quiet and as still as his heart of stone.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. Wonwoo saw the change to be good because now, he wasn’t so easily fooled by others and their perfidious promises, he was also able to keep away other people, which only lowered the chances of him ever feeling heartbreak again. The only problem was that his heart, now, weighed so much more than it used to and it wasn’t as if Wonwoo had spaghetti arms either; he had managed to weigh the thing once and it was rounded down to 12.5kg. He already had many books to carry as a literature major so it was only an inessential added weight that Wonwoo had no desire of lugging around every day, so it just had to stay home atop his bedside table.

Despite the heartbreak he had suffered through alone, he was admired and sought out by many girls, who would confront him about their feelings if it weren’t for his reputation - his reputation to coldly reject those that even breathed a word to him about anything concerning love. Many rumors make their way around university campus about him and his chilling demeanor, some suspect that he has no heart, others believe he's experienced heartbreak and some just think it’s who he is as a person. The first was simply ridiculous because everyone has a heart but the last two were fairly accurate in their own right. Wonwoo can’t find it in himself to care, however, because they weren’t ever going to find out, he’s only told his closest friends, who have been sworn to secrecy, and he doesn’t plan on telling anyone else, he hasn’t even told his parents.

The tall, expressionless boy simply goes through lectures breezily before huddling up in the corner of the campus library with his nose stuck in-between the pages of an invigorating book. Reading the words of the many writers he admires, envelopes him with daydreams that project the images being described on the woody pages perfectly. It’s the only time he feels like his old self again when his emotions were as vibrant as the colours and shapes he sees through the metal frames of his circular glasses. Maybe that’s why he was so addicted to books and why he had chosen his major when he, previous to the heartbreak, knew nothing of what he wanted to be when he was older.

In spite of his cold manner, all he genuinely wants to do is comfort others, others that could be going through or had already gone through heartbreak. He knows that he can simply become another therapist and garner the same repercussions but it won’t be the same, it won’t provide the same satisfaction as publishing a book because, at least, that comes with the knowledge that his words of comfort and advice can reach others worldwide. He also doesn’t want to provide the usual therapy that focuses directly on the cause, he’d rather provide comfort subtly and in a more enjoyable way. This can only be achieved through the tellings of a story, is what Wonwoo concluded years ago when he had given his future a truly deep and long thought.

Now, he’s here, surrounded by friends and reaching towards a dream as he bites down on a sandwich, ensuring that the crumbs don’t fall into the book held in his hands. He and his twelve other friends occupied a good stretch of the tables provided at the cafeteria and he had hopes that others would be able to bypass him when glancing over but he was wrong much like how he is always mistaken when thinking optimistically about things.

“Look, he’s right there!”

“Isn’t he handsome? So mysterious and cold. He’s just the guy for me.”

“You better watch out, he’s stone-cold when it comes to love confessions. He’s rejected everyone that’s come his way with the intentions of capturing his heart. It's like he doesn't care about whether he breaks someone's heart or not,”

Wonwoo heard a sigh, “And he was so perfect…”

“It’s better to just treat him like art and admire from afar.”

Wonwoo loves following his simple routine and, therefore, has one for everything: for how he should get ready for bed, for what he should do in the morning, for when he should eat his meals, for his university days...the list goes on. Today was another university day for him and both of the lectures he needed to attend today were back-to-back in the early morning, which left him the rest of the day to do with what he wanted. These days were his favourite because after getting work done in the morning he didn’t feel as guilty for spending most of the day he had left in the library and drowning in the river of words in the abundance of books that surrounded him provided.

For most of the day, his routine was the same; he had attended both of his lectures and had eaten his lunch at his preferred cafe, situated right beside the campus library, which was his final destination for the time being. The moment the tall young man had entered the library, however, he was having to spend an extended minute beside the front desk, attempting to process the fact that the elderly lady that used to sit at the desk was no longer there and was now replaced by a wrinkle-free face that adorned the cutest button nose and most innocuous sparkling doe eyes he had ever seen.

“Good afternoon, sir,” you chirp happily up at the stoic man towering over you. He was very handsome, with a slim face and proportionate body, he also adorned cute circular-framed glasses that you weren’t a big fan of but appreciated that they looked good on him. The only thing that put you off of his appearance was that he was absolutely expressionless and when you saw that he wasn’t going to greet you back, your heart sank into your stomach, causing the one in your pocket to become heavy, almost pushing you to tilt down with it. You were able to resist, however, as the male curtly nodded and hurried away, behind a shelving unit of dense books. In doing this, the weight of your heart became light again and the pout that itched to trace your lips was now gone.

Brushing the swift and minorly callous greeting to the back of your mind, you continued on with what your job required. You still had a few minutes left until you had to switch places with someone else and take over their job of restocking the books into their original places. It was a job nobody tended to enjoy but you were eager to get started; it was a new experience and you’d much rather be accompanied by books than other people right now, especially because of that daunting, earlier exchange. Yup, you definitely couldn’t wait to immerse yourself with books that needed stacking.

Many minutes drawled by and your colleague came back, flashing you a smirk as you switched places, it was if they were wishing you good luck with the task. It was a silent wish you felt as though you didn’t need at first but now that you were wheeling around piles of books in a cart twice your size, you were beginning to understand why people had a deep dislike for this duty. You were also left with the pile of books that needed to be stacked in the far corner of the large library. It was an exciting place to explore but not when you were having to sweat buckets just from pushing the cart of books around.

When you finally reached the area that required the majority of books you needed to replace onto their shelves, you wiped at the sweat on your brow before huffing a sigh and beginning to hum to yourself. Humming, was your own way of giving yourself therapy. It was never for serious things, just for when you needed to calm down or needed your mind to be brought elsewhere to distract you from things you didn’t want to confront. It was your own commiseration for when there wasn’t anyone around you to lean on.

You were just minding your own business, getting on with work that needed to get done for pay and didn’t realise the pair of eyes lingering on your figure from the little nook tucked away in a secluded part of the library that hardly anyone noticed. It was a quaint quarter that had the books not many people tended to take out and so it was the perfect place for Wonwoo to set himself up in for an entire afternoon and evening of reading. Of course, there was the occasional person that needed a book from that area but they never stayed long and hardly noticed the tucked-away alcove Wonwoo always occupied. It was a little corner wedged with an antique armchair and a small table with which sat a desk lamp. It was perfect for Wonwoo to read in peace. It also seemed to be a perfect place to watch others - especially cute librarians - move through the tall shelving units.

Earlier, when you had greeted him, Wonwoo was too shocked and afraid to greet you back, he regrets it now but he hopes that one day, the two of you could become acquaintances, at the very least. Deep inside him, however, he yearned for something more. The reason being that he usually hated it when others made any noise around him as he wanted to read in only the company of silence, making any form of noise the antithesis of that. However, he seemed to like your humming; it wasn’t disturbing or distracting at all, in fact, it just added to the relaxed atmosphere he found much delight in. He hadn't a clue why he suddenly had the urge to feel close to you and it was fairly incongruous but he paid no mind to it at that moment.

When you were tucked into the front desk and seated, Wonwoo wasn’t given the opportunity to survey how cute your outfit was. You looked really adorable. The main palette of colour you were draped in were nudes and browns, your pleated skirt was a sweet, walnut brown that you had tucked your maple jumper into. If you weren’t charming already, the white-collar peeking out from underneath your jumper made him feel warm in the chest as he continued staring as you stacked books in your heeled boots, still unable to fully reach the highest shelf with the elevation they gave you. It was definitely an aesthetic that he found attractive, especially on you. This was a peculiar thought because he’s only met you today and he hasn’t even said a word to you yet.

It’s dangerous for him to be feeling this way. After his first and last heartbreak, hasn’t he already learned his lesson about falling in love? It can never end well.

Lost in thought from the conflicts of how strangely attractive you are to him but also how he needs to stop thinking about you or else he’ll find himself in the same situation he was in years ago, Wonwoo briskly loses touch with the happenings around him. Without realising, the tall male continues staring at you as the dispute in his mind goes back and forth long enough for you to turn around to the next shelf and register that the tall, handsome man who had basically ignored your greeting at the desk, was staring at you.

In his hands, you see a worn, hardcover book with aged pages and you instantly flush in embarrassment and shame. You probably disturbed his reading with your humming and by the stern stoic look he’s focusing intensely on you, it appears as though he’s eager to warn you of the disturbance you were making. Not wanting to perturb him further, you tuck your chin into your neck and get on with your work, no longer humming your supposedly disquieting tune.

It takes several moments for Wonwoo to register the fact that you had stopped humming and couldn’t help the small frown that weighs his lips down. The sudden silence is probably his fault too, his heart of stone keeps his face stripped of most emotions so that, even if he were to feel an overwhelming sense of happiness, only a small smile would appear on his face, so subtle that hardly anyone would notice. He doesn’t want to further plague your work so Wonwoo tries to get back into reading his beloved book once more if it weren’t for the slight groan that catches his attention.

Upon looking up, he catches sight of your struggle. The height of the tall shelving units are giant compared to you and your heeled boots, it was an endearing sight to see you attempt at reaching high enough to stack the highest shelf but the weak whimper that escaped your mouth had his chest tightening and before he knew it, he was on his feet and walking your way.

Hearing the slow footsteps getting louder from behind you, you tried to ignore the creeping feeling that swamped your stomach but when a shadow engulfs your own you’re quick to swivel on your feet and lightly bump your nose against a hard chest.

“Let me do that for you…” at the sound of his voice, you almost melt into a puddle of goo on the floor but even though your knees are quaking uncontrollably, you’re somehow able to hold yourself up. You wait with bated breath as you hear him slot the book back into its rightful place on the shelf, “If you need any help with any more books, just ask…” you remained motionless as he stepped back and made the move to return to his little quiet corner for reading but he shocks you again by meeting your eyes and making you flush even more, “I really like your humming; don’t feel like you have to stop because of me.”

Despite his comment, it takes you a few moments to finally start humming again but, this time, you’re more than willing to persist with your own devised tune.

One thing Wonwoo hates more than anything is when his special secluded spot at the library gets stolen by some rowdy freshmen who have yet to experience the reality of work eventually catching up to them if they don’t stay on top of it. It’s the only time his quiet hideaway becomes a social corner. This is supposed to be a library, meant for studying and delving into the fabricated worlds of writers old and new, not a place for social gatherings that disturb the peace and magic in the air. However, it seems as though ever since he had helped you that day, his area has been left spec and span, clean of dust as well as the disturbance that always used to irritate his nerves. The window was finally cracked open to let in a breeze of fresh air so that it didn’t get too stuffy and were cleaned so that the rays of sunlight came in with no disturbance at all. After discerning the fact, he has had a very peaceful week and was kept in good spirits, so much so that he’s always been greeting you at the front desk with, no longer a nod, but a timid wave that always came across as blithe despite his awkwardness at first, and a charming smile.

It would be a lie to say that your chest suddenly felt lighter every time he flashed that pearly-white smile of his your way. The feeling was fluttering and sweet but in the pit of your stomach, there was a sour emotion of guilt that slowly weighed down that light sensation and had you averting your eyes as quickly as you’ve been able to meet his. The foul emotion never seems to reach Wonwoo and he only assumes the quick averting of your gaze as your simple lack of courage, which only forms a swell of fondness for you in his chest. Again, this was a dangerous sign for him but, just like before, he’s rendered helpless as he watches you go about your business, re-stacking shelves and looking absolutely adorable as you do so. Knowing full well of his growing endearment for you, someone he’s hardly interacted with for more than a week or so, he does his best to ensure that keeps you at a good distance away. However, this still doesn’t stop his friendly yet distant greetings of smiles and waves of the hand that have your knees weakening but your stomach churning unpleasantly.

Your stomach is heavy but your chest is light and you feel warm, you know that you shouldn’t wander further into the background of the charming stranger that always smiles your way and never forgets to wave at you whenever you find your eyes locking with his pools of chocolate brown. Sinking your teeth into your bland lunch of old take-out food from yesterday night, you mumble your most burning question across to your colleague, who sits at the other side of the room with one leg crossed over the other. She files down her long nails, a perfectly good looking lunch beside her going cold from her ignorance. She’s the pretty perfect picture of a ‘popular’ girl on campus that’s only doing extra work for the credits and points, which is the only reason why she can be found working in the library. Her and her rowdy bunch of friends usually occupied the charming man’s quiet corner some days of the week and, for you to drive them out, you had to do some bargaining, which landed you with extra chores around the library, hence why you’re hardly able to stop and converse with the handsome stranger Wonwoo. It's not that you even had the pluck to do so in the first place, but you’ve always been willing to sit and watch him read more verbose art with his long fingers turning the pages as his strong palms supported the thickset spine of the book.

“What was that?” your colleague calls as you take a moment to chew and swallow your food before repeating your question. It didn’t matter that you had finished eating because your voice was still weak and hardly reached her, causing her to upturn a drawn-in brow.

“W-Wonwoo…” was the only word she was able to make out but that was all she needed to be rushing over, a smile glowing up her once miserable expression as she plopped herself down beside you, ready to flood out endless rivers of words about the boy. You were quite shocked actually, you didn’t know his name could spark such a reaction.

“Jeon Wonwoo? The handsome bookworm that always seems to visit this library even though I’ve hardly had a glance of him despite working here?” she gushes, all in one breath, as you nod with a look of shock largely evident on your face, which she seems to ignore in her excitement to talk about such a ‘juicy, hot’ topic - as she would describe it.

“Isn’t he super handsome?” she manages to whine but squeal in delight all at the same time, continuing without even giving you the chance to answer her rhetorical question, “He’s so silent and mysterious,” she continues to praise before lowering her voice and leaning closer to you, as if he was about to tell you a secret, “many girls in his literature class have at least had a small crush on him but, apparently, all the people that have confessed to him - some were even guys, mind you - he has rejected very coldly.” she leans back with a shrug of her shoulders, “I’m sure it’s his way of warning all others that he won’t be interested in anyone at this university, but people are more stubborn than that. He should know, I mean, he does literature, I’m sure he’s read ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and about how stubborn those two were,” you can only nod along as you took in all the information she was feeding you, information that you didn’t need. You wanted to know him as a person, not about how handsome he is because you already knew that from the multiple glances you’ve spared in his direction. Also, even without her gossip, you can conclude that you already know more than her about him.

He appears to come by only during the later afternoons, hence why she’s hardly seen him because she leaves a little while after midday as she knows you’ll be covering the rest of her work. Also, he only seems to read for an hour or two before leaving. He only reads and that’s it, he doesn’t study so he probably has another space for that, either that or he’s just really smart and he doesn’t need to put as much work in as other students. It’s unfair that he’s already so fanciable atop being incredibly astute.

As your colleague continues to babble on about god knows what, you slowly start to feel yourself smiling at the possibility of getting to know him if you had the time and geeking over books together but when you bitterly remind yourself that you already had someone, that sourness overcomes your tastebuds again and makes your grimace softly. It’s a pang of reasonable guilt but is misplaced specifically for how your current relationship is right now. It’s a rocky path, full of obstacles that trip you up along the way, leaving bruises and sometimes even cuts that aren't even given sufficient time to ameliorate into scars.

The relationship you have is physical and abusive. It isn’t the fairytale love story that you’ve always dreamed of, it’s not comfortable or sweet or loving in any way. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. You know you should leave him but you’re always hesitant to because, strangely enough, your boyfriend, no matter how abusive, can give you the sense of comfort no one else can. He's able to provide you with reassurance and confidence about yourself that you had developed surrounding him. It’s so perilous for you to believe that if you were to leave him, you will crumble down to the extremely shy and incredibly unattractive girl that you used to be before he came into your life. He has manipulated and twisted your mind so much that although you know you’re better off without him, you can’t leave him because you believe he’s essential to have in your life in order to keep yourself together.

He’s the only person that has ever taken the time to love and cherish you for who you are and, despite the relationship turning sour, you always find a reason - an excuse - to continue staying by his side and turn away from strangers that could help you, even strangers as friendly and comforting as Wonwoo.

It was a Wednesday and you were a little late in setting up the little corner area for Wonwoo but you were determined to get the place clean and comfortable for him to be able to truly relish in the words of most recent ‘must-read’. Almost every few seconds, you would look at the time on your phone and rush your self to hurry before he catches you preparing the place for him. It would be so embarrassing if he finds out that you were going through such lengths for him despite hardly even knowing him but, he’s been so kind to you, kinder than the person who's supposed to be cherishing you like the most precious jewel there has ever been. You suppose your warm heart has gotten warm for him similar to the way it once did for your boyfriend. You still loved your boyfriend though, Wonwoo was just a kind stranger that you want to become friends with despite the controlling hand your boyfriend has been having on your social life.

Just as you were finishing up with wiping down the small side table, you suddenly felt a presence behind you before a tap on your shoulder directed your attention to the handsome face of the stranger you had been frenetically setting up the area for.

“So it’s been you,” he speaks softly, his charming smile making your chest squeeze as you sensed your heartwarming up in your breast pocket.

“Wh-wha-?” you stutter, embarrassed that you’ve been caught but also confounded at the grandeur appeal of his smile.

“You’ve been the one that’s kept other people away from my area and cleaning up any messes you might have missed,” he gives you a nod of thanks before delivering his gratitude in words, “I really appreciate that, thank you.”

“I-It’s alright,” you squeak, face still predominant with a reddish hue, “I just wanted to thank you for helping me out the first time we met,” your admittance only has Wonwoo furrowing his brows and feeling the weight of guilt sink his stomach. It was only one time and it wasn’t that much of a grandiose gesture either. This makes him think of if you’re always this grateful for every little thing, for every kind gesticulation done for you, would you repay someone as if they've saved your life? It’s an endearing attribute but he worries that some people could have taken advantage of that.

“Why don’t I help you with the shelf stacking?” he offers, not even waiting to hear for your response as he walks over to your tray and begins stacking the books.

Gasping, you quickly hurry to his side and try to push him back to his little nook, your small soft hands splayed across his chest as you look up to him with your wondrous doe eyes. He thinks it's adorable how you think he’s going to stop when you look all the more fragile and in greater need of his help at that moment. Your action of prevention has only led to the sealing of his resolution in helping you regardless.

"Please don't trouble yourself. I don't want to get in the way of your time spent reading,"

“It’s alright, I really don’t mind. I mean, you’ve been doing this for me for a while, right?” you don’t respond and remain speechless because you know how horribly you lie and people can just see right through your little act, “I’d feel guilty if I didn’t do this for you, at least. Please let me help you?” he beseeches softly and although you’re tempted to give in, you keep your mouth stubbornly shut, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll only do the ones that you can’t reach and you can do the rest, yeah?”

He doesn’t know why he’s so willing to help you but when he sees you give a hesitant nod, your eyes sparkling with the conflicting emotions of gratitude and worry, he knows why. You look so delicate and frail that his stone heart can’t help but want to protect you from all evil things in the world. Not only that but he greatly admires your kindness, to him, it’s so attractive and charming for a girl to act selflessly and be genuinely compassionate for those around them. To him, those types of people are the most precious because they wouldn’t have the heart to break another's. Taking in a deep breath, he looks away from you in an attempt to keep his mind and heart from wandering too far into the charmingly mysterious being that is you. Although he can sense that you’re the type of person who couldn’t hurt a fly, he still remained guarded.

Wonwoo can’t believe that he has only known you for a short period of time, and yet, he’s talking to you more than he is with his usual gaggle of friends. He mentally argues that this case is different, however, because of the fact that his friends are more talkative than him, which usually leads him to keep silent as the rest of them continue with their conversations. On occasion, he would voice his views, of course, but it wouldn't be often. His friends didn't mind this and he was appreciative of that. You were a different affair because whatever you had to say was something he either had an opinion on or was relatively interested it. In addition to that, it was only ever a conversation between you two; talking like that always required input from both sides at some point. You would also always make sure that he felt included and that you didn't prattle on too much. It was a strange quirk of yours to always ask him a question about every topic brought up between you but he appreciated it none the less. That's probably why he has been able to grow so fond of you. The two of you, he found out whilst stacking shelves and chatting with you, had very similar tastes in books, valued many similar things and had the same humor.

It was comforting to find someone so similar to him and sharing so many things with him but also have that someone be completely different. You were soft and sweet, he was stoic and stern. Based on that alone, he can already tell that you’d be a good equaliser for him. He’s never met someone so perfect yet so fraught with danger for him. There’s this basic need within him wanting to push you away for his benefit and safety but every time he looks your way, in your cute outfit of oversized jumpers and skinny jeans, he is engulfed by that want and needs to wrap you up in his arms where he will have you stay there forever.

“So…” he attempts to start conversation in the midst of stacking the higher shelves for you, “what are you studying?” admittedly, Wonwoo found the sound of his own voice foreign in the preserved silence of the library; he is always inclined to keep to himself and stirs far away from making conversation with others, worried that it would stretch on for a longer period than needed. Surprisingly enough, however, Wonwoo wouldn’t mind if you were to talk decades of knowledge to him in that gentle saccharine voice of yours.

Giggling, you flush red at the prospect that someone so handsome would find enough interest in you to ask you questions about yourself. In an attempt to hide your flustered cheeks, you look towards a lower shelf and re-stack the missing books, failing to catch the bewildered expression of the tall man beside you at the sound of your twinkling laugh. He had never heard anything so melodious.

“I’m studying English Literature and Creative Writing here,” you spoke softly, taking a moment to run your fingers along the delicate spine of an aged hardback before replacing it into the shelf once more.

“You like reading then?”

“Of course!” you gush in a whisper, eyes capturing the sparkle of celestial bodies, an impossible feat but Wonwoo can understand how only you are able to achieve it, “It’s such a great way of escaping the normal world where you can learn to love and hate multiple characters, you learn from their mistakes and achievements and apply what they preach to your own values. I love it,”

Smiling to himself, Wonwoo focuses back on the task he had committed himself to, despite the pull in his chest to continue staring at you, “you took the words right out of my mouth,” surprised at his confession, you stare up at him and catch the smile his pink lips adorned no matter the subtleness of it. Whoever could miss such a charming smile?

Inevitably, the two of you start talking about your favourite books and since your tastes are so similar, you start to gossip about all of your favourite moments hidden in between their creamy pages. You had never experienced something this wonderful before, not even with your current boyfriend. Yes, he used to be a sweetheart but he still didn’t share the same amount of interest you had in books and you had known that, in his eyes, he liked that about you. At the time, it made you feel special and led to your blossoming feelings of affection to him. Unfortunately, those feelings have slowly died away with his gradual change in personality. He’s no longer the same and you wish you could have saved him but by the time you had finally built up the realisation and courage to end his bad habits, it was already too late. There was always the argument of, why don’t you just leave him?

Your heart was still able to warm up at the presence of him as proof of your still evident feelings despite it being not as warm as it used to be in the earliest honeymoon stages of your relationship. There was also the possibility of you breaking his heart in the process and you didn’t want to be responsible for any further negative changes in his lifestyle and mood. It wouldn’t be fair, he was already struggling through his addictions and for you to be so heartless as to leave him for just because you were no longer satisfied and always hurt from his bad habits was extremely selfish. You wanted to stay and help him as much as you can, that’s why you were willing to put your education on pause and drop out of your university course to fully support him by being able to pick up more odd jobs. There’s always a possibility and danger in your mind that he’ll just use the money you earn for his habits but you’re certain that if you just stay by his side, you’ll be able to help him along the path of recovery.

The dreams you have of becoming a famous playwright and poet, much like Shakespear, would just have to wait. Sometimes some things aren’t meant to be but that’s just for the meantime. Things will eventually get better and then you’ll finally be steady enough on your feet to finally pursue your dreams, hopefully, with someone you cherish. Sacrifices have to be made and the thought of getting your loving boyfriend back is the only motivation you need to go through with it.

“So…why are you working in the library? Extra credit?” Wonwoo hums in curiosity, settling back into his armchair after finishing all the top shelves.

“Um…not really…my boyfriend-” there was a tone of insecurity in your voice, forcing you to withhold information from him. He had unknowingly felt a painful ache begin to enclose his heart at the mention of you having a boyfriend but ignored the feeling, wanting to bring you freedom from hardships through articulation.  From your streak of talking freely to him, he finds your tight lips bizarre but remains silent so that you’re free to make the decision for yourself. If you chose to continue talking, he’ll listen but never judge you with whatever you have to say, however, if you chose to stay quiet, he won’t press you further and continue reading his book as per usual. After a long pause, your voice finally reaches out to him, this time, however, weaker and more tentative, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he instantly reassures, “I’m not going to press you for answers. Just know that if there’s something wrong, even if you don’t tell me what it is, you can come to me at any time for whatever help you might need,”

He didn’t have to offer you his time and consolation but he did anyway and that struck a chord in your heart, making your chest constrict with a fond ache, something you haven’t felt in a very long time with your boyfriend for the past few months.

“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” the two of you smile at each other for a minute or two, never really needing to voice anything more. You were happy.

It has always been routine for Wonwoo to spend most of his afternoon and evenings at the library, it was a hobby that he absolutely loved and his friends understood that. However, suspicions slowly began rising when the tall male is making excuses to stay there longer and visit more frequently. The excuses started off reasonable enough; he needed to read up on an assigned book; he had to catch up work; there was an assignment due soon and so on. Nevertheless, the ostensible reasonings he made can only be used up to a point and his lies became all the more perceptible; I left my bag there (“but your back is in the corner of the room-”); I forgot to take out this book that I’m suddenly interested in reading (“but you never liked books of that genre”), I don’t spend enough time at the library (“you spend more than enough time there, this is the first time we’ve gotten together and talked this week!”). It was outrageous. So when the boys did a little digging and found out he was making heart eyes at a sweet-looking librarian girl, they left him to himself. They never thought that he’d ever find interest in a girl but they were overjoyed at being proven wrong. In fact, they were so ecstatic that they made up excuses for him to leave and go spend time at the library.

They were happy for him and anxious to meet the librarian that, they knew, he’d eventually reel in and have in his arms. It was only a matter of time.

The topic of hearts was an unavoidable topic to be brought up but Wonwoo was secretly hoping that you’d be one of the people to keep to your own. However, he wasn’t surprised that, when you got extra time to sit around and talk to him, you elucidated inquisitiveness in his heart. You were asking gentle questions, not openly pronouncing a want to see or touch his heart but he knew that you secretly wanted to do those things; everyone wanted to know about everyone else’s heart, especially if they’re the ones that bring about the topic first.

“What’s your heart like?” you habitually tilt your head, as if you don’t know the effect it has on his poor soul, “I want to know,” he fails to keep the hesitance from showing on his face, which you instantly try to remedy, “I’ll show you and let you hold my heart now if you promise to show me and let me hold yours in return one day,” it seemed like a fair deal, you weren’t giving him a time limit and he was getting something similar in return. He had a lot of freedom in this covenant. Although he was having second thoughts, his head was already confirming the agreement for him.

Your smile instantly brightens as you go to reach your hand into your pocket and quickly present your heart to him, cradled in your cupped palms. The heart in your hands was clear and glass-like, it had a geometric look about it. Despite the visibly sharp vertices being rounded off smoothly, they were still prominent, which brought forth fear of being cut.

“Give me your hand…” you softly urge, pulling him into a trance that had his hands reaching out in the same cradled shape like yours. It was an intimate act -allowing someone to hold your heart. The only other person that had held your heart was your boyfriend. He had dropped it many times before from being too careless with it. It made you wince when it was dropped each time but you know can trust Wonwoo, despite only knowing him for several weeks. It was strange but you accepted it because you know he's the time of person that would never intentionally hurt another, unlike your current boyfriend.

“It’s warm…” his deep voice awes as he stares down at your heart, making you blush at the amount of attention and care he’s giving it, “It’s soft too…” he takes a moment to think of how to further describe it, “it's like its made of silk even though it looks like it’s made of glass,” he smiles up at you, only further deepening the pink hue of your blush as you look towards your feet to avoid his fond gaze. This is bad. If you continue catching feelings for Wonwoo, you’ll feel like a worse person than your current boyfriend. Is this cheating? You’re sure you’re allowed to talk to other guys when still in a relationship. “You have a really warm heart,”

“Thank you,” you blurt in a panic, not knowing how to react as he chuckles deeply, making your chest squeeze in the most pleasant way.

You were lost in each other's eyes, subconsciously leaning into one another as you held your heart together. The moment was perfect. You would've liked to treasure and keep it as a pretty picture in your head if it weren't for the rotten aftertaste it left in your mouth. Kangdae, the man you had once thought and wished you would spend the rest of your life with, had witnessed the loving exchange, he was expeditiously seeing red.

He had been suspicious of your dubious buoyant attitude whenever you would come home from or get ready to go to the university campus library for work. It had been happening for a few weeks and it had driven him mad with curiosity. In order to satisfy his inquisition, he resolved to espionage on your work shift. Now, he was driven mad with resentment and indignation.

It didn't take long for Kangdae to reach you with his long strides and pull you harshly away from Wonwoo. In his tight grip, he squeezes your rapidly chilling heart as the grasp he has encircling your wrist constricts to the point where you fear that the circulation of blood to your hand is cut off.

"I'm sorry that my girlfriend," Kangdae growls at you behind clenched teeth as you cower helplessly, "has been bothering you. I'll be taking her home early today," terror precipitately clouds over your wide, doe-like eyes. And, as you are dragged away, you flash Wonwoo a look of absolute, unadulterated trepidation. He becomes frozen in time where fear for your wellbeing consumes his tall figure. Although he wanted to help, it wasn't in his place to speak up for you as he's probably the reason why your lover has reacted with such antagonism. He takes a step forward but finds you are already gone and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot think of anything other than your horror-stricken face. Your sweet, innocent complexion doesn't suit such an emotion, which only emphasises how wrong and sour the situation is for you.

The horrible, pulsing sting of your black eye persists until the next day where you dread about the thought of going to work at the library once again. Luckily, Kangdae had his own 'errands' to run for, which you're pretty sure will just be indulging in his own self-destructive habits. He's horrible. How could he do this to you? But, then again, you're possibly just as horrible as him by helping feed his habits as you were the one working to earn money for him to spend. Never before has he hit you but you try to reason that you were deserving of it, seeing as you were bordering on cheating on him in his eyes.

Leaning back and staring at yourself in the mirror, you wince at the crack your back gives from being bent over for so long, trying to cover up your black eye with foundation. You suppose it'll have to do, hopefully, Wonwoo doesn't take notice; you wince just thinking about the possibility. If you were to avoid the confrontation you're anxious to encounter with Wonwoo today then you'll just have to avoid him as much as possible.

And avoid him, you did, as if he were the plague.

The distance you were adamant in maintaining between you left Wonwoo befuddled more than he has ever been in his life. However, he's able to draw straight parallels between your bizarre distance and the sour mood your boyfriend was in the day before. Not wanting to worsen the situation any further, Wonwoo leaves you be in spite of the great amount of disinclination he felt in doing so.

It's surprising how he's been able to keep to himself for the better part of his time at the library, seeing as he's grown a habit of seeking you out just to hold a conversation. However, he shouldn't applaud himself too much as he was still finding it very difficult to concentrate on the book in his hands as his eyes would always wander to wherever he heard your dainty steps every few minutes. It was as if he was willing to convince himself that you were still there and safe.

Eventually, you ambivalently wheel your cart of books to Wonwoo's section, assuring yourself that he was engrossed in his book before going about your business and proceeding to stretch up high just to reach for the top shelf. Your grunts of evident struggle alert the tall male immediately and not a second passes before he's on his feet and making his way towards you in long strides. Yes, he aimed to keep away from you, waiting for you to go to him at your own time - a better time - when your boyfriend wasn't keeping such a close eye on you. However, it was now a habit for him to help you stack the higher shelves, should there be any to stack in exchange for keeping his little nook clear of clutter and annoying younger years. It actually came as a surprise to him when he had gotten to his secluded corner and found that you had still kept it clean and void of any loud company for him. Therefore, he still owes you his helping hand.

In shock at the sudden hand that gently takes the book from you and places it onto the highest shelf, you quickly turn and lock eyes with Wonwoo, whose own widens at the underlying purple hue of your right eye.

"What happened to you?" his voice was filled with concern and shock. Certainly, your boyfriend wouldn't be this type of guy. He pegged him to only have a jealousy issue but this made him lower than dirt and the scum of the earth.

"I-...I had a little accident,"

"And avoiding my eyes definitely means you're telling me the truth," you spare him a glance of guilt before turning away once again, "was he the one that did this to you?" met with silence, hopelessness grips him. The instant he notices your shoulders starting to shake, he places a comforting hand on your shoulder as a gesture of comfort but brings you into his arms when it does nothing back make your palpitations worse, "please tell me so I can help you, (Y/N)," his actions shock him but he really shouldn't be, seeing as you've always been able to bring about things about him he's usually unable to express. He never knew whether it was a good or bad thing but over time, he's been able to consider it as yet another wonderful thing about you.

"H-he's never hit me like this before, it's always b-been just verbal fights b-between us..." you sob in a vulnerable and broken voice, "I-I'm sure he didn't m-mean it, Wonwoo"

"That should never happen," his timbre holds a dangerous note of protectiveness and repulsion. How disgusted can your boyfriend be that he should ever even think of raising his hand at you? "There's never a good enough excuse for a man to ever lay a hand on his lady. Take me to him so that we can have a talk about what he's doing wrong," his eyes were steeled with an intense tenaciousness but you wouldn't allow him to do such a thing.

"No! Please stay away, you could get hurt," Wonwoo tries to protest but you only shake your head 'no', "you're a very dear friend to me, Wonwoo, it would hurt so much more than this black eye if anything were ever to happen to you because of me,"

"It wouldn't be your fault though,"

"But it will be," he can see that you're trembling even more now, like a leaf in the face of bitter autumn winds, so he can't bring himself to argue further and put more stress onto you, "I-I have to go home...I'm sure my shift's already over,"

"(Y/N)," he keeps you gently in place with a caring hand holding your own, "you're shivering uncontrollably and I'm pretty sure it's because of the man you're going home to," you can't dispute the truth, "please come stay at my apartment tonight so that I know you're safe, you can sleep in my bed while I sleep on the sofa,"

There's evident hesitance in your eyes but the more you think about it the more the avidity builds up deep inside you. The thought of going back home, simply to be shouted at again wasn't a welcoming idea, especially after what Kangdae had done to you.

You were having to push your friend away because of him, you were in pain because of him, you dropped out of uni because of him.

Looking into Wonwoo's deep brown, chocolate eyes, you find comfort and worry. It feels so so nice to have someone care and worry about your wellbeing for once that you find yourself nodding in agreement to his proposal.

Wonwoo's home is just what you expected it to be like: clean and organised but homey and comfortable. There wasn't an ever-growing pile of trash bags in the corner, it smelled like him and there was a consistent monochrome aesthetic with splashes of blue in the decor.

"You have a lovely home," you utter softly as soon as he's helped you out of your jacket and you've taken in the humble space.

"Thank you," you see a hint of a blush on his cheeks, "can I get you anything?"

"Just water would be good, thank you," he nods at your request and gestures for you to get comfortable on the sofa before he's out of the room and into the kitchen.

Tensions were high at first but soon enough conversations were flowing smoother than an undisturbed river between you. It just felt so natural to be with him, talk to him, look at him, sit with him, drink with him, laugh with him. You're so glad and grateful that he's there for you; you wouldn't have been able to voice this to anybody else, only him. You don't know why that may be the case but you're quick to start speculating that it may have something to do with you considering him to be more than just a friend...

Shaking your head, you rid the thoughts immediately. Those thoughts shouldn't be there. Wonwoo is just a friend. A really good friend that takes care of you, has beautiful eyes, luscious hair that you want to run your fingers through and such a sweet smile in spite of his cold exterior. He surprises you every day, they're all pleasant surprises just like the time you found out the two of you adore hamburgers and pomegranates. It isn't like the surprises your boyfriend slaps you in the face with; Kangdae's are almost always bad. Sighing, you try not to think about the things that transpired over the past year or two when your relationship consistently reached multiple lows.

"There, everything's ready for you." Wonwoo muses as he walks out of his room, flashing you a kind smile, "I changed the sheets and made sure everything's clean - all that's left to do is for you to have a goodnight's rest,"

"Wonwoo, are you sure that you're okay with having me sleep in your bed? This is your home and I don't want to be even more of a burden to you. Please let me sleep on the sofa instead," you plead with your eyes but he's having none of it. Instead, he is stepping his way towards you with a shake of his head.

"You aren't being a burden. I just want to take care of you since that-" he cuts himself off from insulting Kangdae, not wanting to upset you further by bringing him up, "since your boyfriend isn't looking after you as well as he should be and I think you deserve, at least, that much - it's what everyone deserves..." there's a pause as he reaches his hand up to cup your face and tilt your head up to him, where he stares down at your bruised eye and gently rubs his thumb beneath it.

Sensing his question, you console him with a, "It's feeling much better than earlier, thank you," you muster a small smile that he returns.

"Good but, just to be safe, I've put some painkillers on the bedside table," you nod in appreciation and smile wider.

"Thank you Wonwoo,"

"It's no problem, (Y/N),"

Just as you step towards the bedroom, you quickly realise something, "I-I don't have a change of clothes for the night..." you murmur, "or anything to brush my teeth with..." turning around, you stare up at Wonwoo with your big doe eyes and he has to resist the urge to coddle and coo at you to which he resolves by responding back quickly.

"You can borrow my clothes, it's alright," he leads you to his room and prepares a shirt and shorts for you to wear to bed, "I also keep extra toothbrushes around just in case," as soon as you're set, he leaves you to get ready as he gets ready in the living room.

'How lucky I am to have someone like him standing beside me,' you muse to yourself as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, swamped by his gigantic shirt. In the end, you had decided to forgo the shorts he offered because they just kept slipping and, thankfully, his shirt reached passed your mid-thigh so you were still covered. Although your outfit was cute, you looked really horrible without the makeup covering your black eye. With a sigh, you disregard the negative thoughts and stepped out into the living room to greet Wonwoo 'goodnight'.

Once you've circled the sofa, you realise that Wonwoo had already fallen asleep, his feet were lifted onto the arm of the sofa due to how tall he was and, although you feel bad for the discomfort he may be feeling right now, it's simply too comical of an image to not giggle at. After having a light-hearted chuckle to yourself, you pull the blanket he already has draped over him up to his neckline and over his shoulders before easing a fluffed-up pillow under his head. To your relief, he shows no sign of waking up from the movement.

He's so soft looking. You wish many more people get to see this gentle side of him because it's such a real shame that his beauty isn't shared in this way. His hair looks so soft, his skin is glassy and creamy-smooth, his lips, plump and pink. Absentmindedly, you go to kiss him goodnight. It's a direct line to his lips but you quickly catch yourself and lightly brush your lips against his anyway in defiance of your redirection to peck his cheek.

"Pleasant dreams, Wonwoo..." you whisper softly in your shy, sweet voice before heading off to his bedroom. Unbeknownst to you that as soon as your back is turned, Wonwoo's eyes snap open and his fingers are tracing the stamp of your lips against his cheek. He doesn't have hope in ever falling asleep that night as a blush dusts his countenance and his heart beats a mile per second, grinning like a mad man.

Too hooked up on the kiss you had almost planted onto his lips, Wonwoo abandons all rational and tiptoes into his room, where he finds you sleeping in his bed, right beside the window. You seem to have forgotten to draw the curtains, causing the moonlight to blanket your snoozing figure. You look so gorgeous. Much like sleeping beauty, better even. He can't help but seem to frown at your black eye, however, reaching down to caress your cheek, smiling once again when you lean into his touch and sigh in content. He wants to kiss you so badly and do the job right but his morals just wouldn't let him. From an outsider's perspective, he would be taking advantage of you in your sleep; you still have a boyfriend, albeit a horrible one, but a boyfriend nonetheless and he doesn't want to make the situation worse. If he can keep himself from causing you any more problems then he'd gladly stay clear from you to do so. Not fully though, because you still need someone to look after you and he will gladly fill that role. Nothing more, nothing less. With that, he steps away and goes back to sleep on the sofa.

Morning comes sooner than Wonwoo anticipated but he's not complaining as he's awoken in the best way possible - to the smell of breakfast. He can only assume that it's your doing as you're the only other person in his apartment. The gesture warms his heart, especially when he sees you cooking away in the kitchen, where he almost has a heart attack at the sight of you his oversized shirt. He didn't know anyone could look so good in just a simple T. The scene is very domestic, something he's always craved despite his horrible first love experience. He has never been good at cooking or eat appropriately so he really can't be blamed for falling for you even more.

In his mind, Wonwoo has a debate on whether or not he should alert you of his presence but he decides against it; you look so comfortable cooking breakfast and he doesn't want to interfere with that. It only takes a few minutes, however, before you're turning around and getting the shock of your life. The look on your face and your extremely animated reaction has him laughing aloud with his head thrown back.

"I-I hope you don't mind me cooking for you," you blush softly.

"I really don't mind. I'm actually grateful. I don't know when was the last time I had a warm, homecooked breakfast," he takes a seat at the small table in the corner of his quaint kitchen, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I'm the grateful one," you counter, "because you saved me even though it's not all over yet," with the breakfast plated, you move to the table and sit across from him, "I'll make sure to be out of your hair as soon as possible but thank you so much for this, Wonwoo,"

"No, that's not happening," Wonwoo growls lowly, "I don't want you going back to him where you're unsafe and-"

"Wonwoo..." you place a hand over his to calm him down, which you find that he is surprisingly subservient to your touch because his shoulders almost immediately lose their tension, "let's talk about this after breakfast and just enjoy the food, please?" thankfully he agrees but not after apologising.

Breakfast is short and sweet, quiet but still filled with galvanised murmurs about everything under the sun. Soon enough, you're on your feet again, washing up and clearing the dishes together. However, things quickly get serious when Wonwoo sits you down in the living room with an earnest look on his face.

"Why...why do you think he's like this towards you?"

"He used to be a really good guy and I loved him so much..." you sigh, turning your gaze down at your hands folded on your lap, "but he's easily paranoid that someone else will take me away so he's always protective but he's also developed an alcohol problem and was fired from his job quite some time ago so I work to help support the both of us, meaning that I had to drop out," you feel the tears beginning to surface, "That day was the first time he ever got really violent with me...I just hope he gets better because I know he can be a good person," you look up at Wonwoo with hopelessness in your glossy eyes, "right? He can get better again? I know his old self is still inside him somewhere,"

You don't know why you feel so disappointed when Wonwoo gives you a sympathetic look, "I don't think that'll happen any time soon and I don't mean to hurt your feelings, (Y/N), but I think this will only ever get worse,"  you choke on a sob as Wonwoo brings you into his chest, petting your hair as your tears soak into the breast of his shirt. It takes several minutes before you calm down enough for him to feel assured that you won't break down further as soon as he starts talking again, "you can’t stay with someone like him, clearly he doesn’t love you enough to care for you the way someone, who deserves you, should,"

"Where will I go Wonwoo?" your voice is desperate as you look up at him with your button nose coloured a soft pink, same with your eyes, "My family lives hours away and because of him, I’ve lost all my friends…I have no one…"

"You have me…" he reassures, "and I’m more than willing to let you stay with me if you want"

"T-that’s really sweet but…what am I going to do about all the stuff I have at his place?" you want to accept the offer but you seem to be coming up with excuses to stay with Kangdae. You don't know why because it's clear that you do deserve better and that, deep down, you should have left the day things started going wrong.

"Let me handle that, my friends and I can go with you to collect your things so that he can’t get close to you. But, just to be on the safe side and so that you’re comfortable, we can do it when you know he’s not going to be there," all you can do is nod, unable to find the words for how grateful you are and how horrible you feel for not doing what was best for you for so long.

"That’s my girl…" Wonwoo's words send your heart fluttering as he gives you a soft squeeze, still in his arms. Him calling you his sounds so nice, "I'm sorry someone like you is having to go through this"

"I’m just so thankful that I have you by my side…I love you Wonwoo," you're shocked at your own words, frozen in place and mouth left agape. After a long pause, you finally muster up to courage to look back at the male before you, who snaps out of his own daze as soon as your eyes meet.  

"I- I love you too…" he stutters out, leaving the two of you to stare at one another for a moment before turning away with red-hot faces and spinning minds.  

"H-he um..he’s usually out of the house and drinking at 7:30 every night so…"

"O-okay," Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath, heart racing and mind fuzzy, "we'll get your things then,"

After the initial shock of the sudden confession passes, the day goes by as normal - well, as normal as it could with the two of you being bashful at every glance and accidental touch. The two of you expected tensions to rise even higher but things were just kept...sweet. Especially because your boyfriend hadn't even bothered to text you. You can only guess that he had gotten himself super wasted the night before, woke up super late and went off again, thinking that you had already just gone to work early. Many days of not seeing each other passed like that between you and Kangdae, which made you feel even more stupid about how submissive you were to him. Instead of your relationship growing and blossoming into a beautiful floret of unconditional love, it only wilted and gradually atrophied into nothing, dust. There was no love left. And you were foolish enough to stay and believe that Kangdae could get better when you were only being as toxic as he was to himself and your relationship.

You're so glad Wonwoo has convinced you to leave him because you deserved better than that. You like to think that you knew this all along but there's never a problem with someone giving you a soft nudge in the right direction. For you, it was Wonwoo.

"(Y/N), I want you to meet Seungcheol and Mingyu," Wonwoo gestured to two very handsome, very tall and quite intimidating men, "they will be coming with us to get your things," he smiles kindly at you to which you miss the look of absolute shock that passes the two men's eyes, "they're my friends so you can trust them," Looking towards the two once more, you flash a gentle smile, which they happily reciprocate.

"So you're the girl that's swept our Wonwoo off his feet?" the taller of the two cooed, his chestnut brown hair flopping as he gives a little jump of happiness.

"It's about time," the other one smirks, chuckling at the soft glare Wonwoo flashes from behind you, "he needs a girl to distract him from all those books,"

They may be friendly and teasing now but when Wonwoo had reached out to all of his friends and explained the situation, they were utterly livid. Seething with anger, they all volunteered to help. It was overwhelming but it made Wonwoo extremely happy that his friends would be there for, not only him, but also for a complete stranger. Peering down at you now, Mingyu and Seungcheol found an even better reason to help out their friend than his initial proposal; you were just too precious to not help. You were tiny and fragile looking and, although your black eye made them wince, they found your beauty to be just as intimidating as Wonwoo's except that yours was on the other side of the beauty spectrum to their lean brother.

"You live here?" Mingyu exclaimed without thought, causing both Wonwoo and Seuncheol to slap him upside the head.

"Yeah..." you cringe, "I try to keep it clean but it can never stay that way with Kangdae around," you whisper as the three boys nod behind you.

"Hurry and get what you need, Mingyu, Seungcheol and I will keep a lookout," you nod and get to work. There weren't many things that you had to yourself, you actually had to sell a lot online so that you could afford to pay bills. It was funny how this was Kangdae's apartment but you were the one paying all of the electricity, gas, rent, food and much more. It made you laugh humourlessly. You'll never sacrifice yourself for someone like him again.

The time that you had arrived was at 19:40 and you were just about ready to go at around five minutes past eight in the evening. You just have your skincare left to pack before you can be well on your way.

"Who the hell are you?" the drunk voice of your boyfriend screams from within the living room, sending your heart racing.

"We're friends of (Y/N),"

"Where is she?!" Kangdae's voice grows louder and fear grips you around the neck. It was suffocating. This always happened, but when you hear Wonwoo talk back to him, just to sound of your gentle giant's voice has the power to calm you down completely and grow confidence in your heart.

"She'll be coming home with us, I'm afraid,"

"Yeah, she's just here to pack her things," Mingyu explains, putting up a brave face despite being the last person to ever involve himself in fights. He didn't sign up for this confrontation but just remembering the sadness in your eyes behind a purple, yellowing bruise spikes pluckiness within him. This guy was tiny compared to him anyway.

"She's leaving me? Why?! I bet it's because of you!" Kangdae jabs a finger at Wonwoo just as you step into the living room, putting up a valiant facade in spite of your still racing heart.

"Yes, Kangdae. I am leaving but it's not because of Wonwoo. I deserve better than the way you've been treating me. We're over, please don't ever contact me from now on because I never want to see you again," nearing the end of your sentence, you start to sniffle, heartbroken over losing something that could've been so much like heaven. Thankfully, Wonwoo is quick to pull you into a protective embrace just as Kangdae jumps towards your shaking frame. As soon as he tries to jump you, he is pushed back and kept away by Mingyu and Seungcheol. Despairing,  your boyfriend, now ex, breaks down into pathetic weeping. Kangdae begs you to stay, apologising profusely and doing everything in his power to convince you to remain standing beside him but Wonwoo flashes a cold stare as he leads your sniffling form out the door, eliciting more vociferous wails.

"I'm really proud of you, (Y/N)," Wonwoo whispers as he wipes away your silent tears, "it takes guts to face someone you fear and need to break away from despite your history together," you nod, unable to muster up a smile, fully prepared to fall asleep and forget about the world.

The night is luxuriating, where you share three large pizzas and engage in a Disney movie marathon in Wonwoo's living room with Seungcheol and Mingyu. They made you laugh just by being themselves; their dynamic with each other was just so wholesome, full of teasing, many inside jokes, and endless smiles that they made you forget about any fatigue plaguing your bones.

"We need to introduce (Y/N) to the rest of the guys," Mingyu suggests through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

"There's more of you?" you tilt your head, smiling brightly as an eagerness fills you in anticipation of meeting the rest of their friendship group.

"There's ten more of us, actually," Seuncheol laughs at your look of shock.

"You can come and join us at our weekly hang out, if you're up to it," Mingyu offers cheerily after finally swallowing his food.

It was nearing midnight when Mingyu and Seungcheol finally make the journey back to their own apartments, leaving you and Wonwoo to go through your night routine together. You were sad to see them go, already feeling attached after just a few hours spent together but their promise of taking you to their next hang out was enough to keep you content for the meantime.

"If you don't want to join us at our hang out, you really don't have to," Wonwoo randomly brings up when you're going about your night routine. When you look up at him, you see his cheeks are dusted a soft pink, which makes you chuckle and raise suspicions.

"Don't tell me you're embarrassed about them, Wonwoo,"

"It's not that I'm embarrassed by them..." he pauses to sigh before continuing as he continues to moisturise his face, "I just don't want them embarrassing me in front of you," that makes you laugh so hard, you almost forget about your black eye and when you scrunch up your eyes whilst laughing, you cut off to squeak in pain. "Are you okay?!" in half a second, Wonwoo was beside you, a hand cupping your face and tilting your head up towards him so as to examine your injury.

"Y-yes, I'm fine, thank you. I'm sorry-" after blinking your eyes several times, you stare up at Wonwoo who had grown silent as he continues to sink deeper into your sweet gaze, the look in his eyes cutting off your rambling.

Was he leaning closer into you?

Were you leaning into him as well?

What's pressing against your lips? Why are your eyes closed?

Oh well...this must be what real heaven is. You don't know how you could have waited and hoped so long for Kangdae to be like this when it only took Wonwoo a few months of getting to know you to become your safe haven.

Several months pass by. In the first, you were adamant at finding your own apartment and moving out so that Wonwoo could have his own space again but fate just wouldn't separate the two of you. There wasn't a single chance that came by for you to get your own apartment so, in agreement with Wonwoo, you decided that you might as well just stay with him. Of course, you let him have his bedroom back while he turned his small study into a room for you. You felt like such a burden but Wonwoo was resolute in keeping you from ever feeling that way for long. It became a routine for you to cook breakfast, which you enjoyed doing because it meant that Wonwoo would leave for his lecture with a full stomach and ready to perform his best, while the two of you worked as a team to make dinner. However, sometimes you would cook it and other times Wonwoo would make something. He was more than eager to show you how much he was able to learn about cooking under your instructions. It never ceases to amaze you with how perfect ever new dish turns out despite cooking being such a new dexterity for the male. You're so proud of him.

Getting to meet the rest of Wonwoo's friends, you were accepted into the circle right away. Never before had you felt so much love and happiness. They treated you like the sister they never had, cooing at you and spoiling you rotten, standing behind the reason that you deserve it for being so adorable. On the other hand, such good treatment doesn't come without its downsides as the boys practically teased you and Wonwoo into going out together. It was a silly idea. A very silly idea that ended with you and Wonwoo surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) getting together.

It was hard at first, seeing as you had just gotten out of such a calamitous relationship with Kangdae, who hadn't stopped blowing up your phone the first week since you left until you were forced to block his number and get a new one, just to be on the safe side. Your hesitancy, only lasted, however, until Wonwoo was finally willing to let you hold his heart.

"Really?!" you squeal in excitement as the male before you chuckles and goes to fetch his heart.

"Yes, really," he comes back to find you bouncing in your place on the sofa, an image that almost washes all of his nerves away, "it's pretty heavy and isn't very nice to hold at all so be careful, alright?"

"Who cares!" you wave off his worries with the most nonchalant wave of your hand as you reach out to accept his heart of stone. He sits beside you as you examine his heart, running your fingers across its edges as he holds his breath, "Wonwoo," you tut in bluff disappointment, "you didn't have to lie to me," the male sits in shock, eyes wide as he watches you cuddle his heart in your hands. Never before had you looked so endearing, that the usually stoic male leans in to kiss you. He catches you off guard and turns the both of you into flustered messes. Wonwoo can safely bet that the two of you will continue getting flustered even years into the future and he's perfectly okay with that.

It appears as though his heart turns soft and light only for you while it stays substantial in weight on all other occasions. Even though it isn't a permanent change in other situations and Wonwoo still can't wear his heart around with him, he's happy with his heart only turning soft and light in your hands.

As long as you stay with him, he's happy.

As long as you keep turning his heart soft and light, he's happy.

As long as he has you, he's happy.

masterlist / seventeen hearts m.list

[unpack-my-heart]

Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between (formerly ‘The Ghost of You’) – Updated

@tinyarmedtrex @violetreddie @xandertheundead @constantreaderfool @eds-trashmouth @mrs-vh

PSA: I changed the name of this fic. It was once ‘The Ghost of You’ but I don’t think that fit the story anymore, so I changed it. Hope that isn’t too confusing!

Chapter 4 - Nothing Ever Becomes Real Until It Is Experienced

Read on AO3 HERE

A stream of lava-hot water hit Richie’s back, waging a brutal war against the knotted muscles of his back.

“SHE’S ALL I NEED ALL OF MY LIFE!”

He rubbed the bar of ivory coloured soap between his hands, before rubbing the soapy lather over his chest.

“I FEEL SO GOOOOD IF I JUST SAY THE WOOOOOORD”

Turning around, Richie closed his eyes against the torrent of water, letting it rush over his face and chest, the soapy suds disappearing down the drain.

“ SUH-SUH-SUSSUDIO”

Richie opened his eyes, mouth still half open from where he’d been singing, and, as if he had always been there, Eddie’s disembodied head looked back at him from where it was sticking directly through the shower curtain.

“Richie! The lambs have come back down off the hills and – oh good lord, you’re naked!”

“JESUS FUCK!”

A primal scream tore its way out of Richie’s throat as he unceremoniously tumbled to the floor of the shower, clasping helplessly at the shower curtain as he fell. The curtain ripped from its fastenings, and floated to the ground gently. Richie grabbed at it, yanking it towards him to cover what was left of his modesty.

“What the fuck, Eddie!”

Eddie was standing in the bathroom, looking scandalized but also very mildly amused.

“I’m ever so sorry, Richie!”

“The door was locked, how the hell did you even get in here?!” Richie demanded, feeling his face bloom with blush, caused not only by the scalding temperature of the water.

“I – I didn’t use the door”

Richie blinked, incredulous.

“You didn’t use the door” he deadpanned, raising his eyebrows, an invitation. ‘Explain yourself’.

“I haven’t used a door in seventy years, and I don’t intend on starting now!”

For a moment, neither of them speak. Eddie has his arms crossed in what Richie imagines is supposed to be indignation, a silent ‘I’ve been here longer than you, this is more my house than it ever will be yours.” Richie can’t help but feel a pang in his chest, something so close to affection it’s uncanny, a cloying kind of feeling that envelops his heart and holds it hostage.

Eddie breaks first.

“It really was an accident, Richie, I sort of forgot – I forgot about …” he trails off before he can say it, but Richie knows.

I forgot what it’s like to be alive. What it’s like to spend time with another person.

Richie’s annoyance melts like snow.

– X –

The house is almost finished. Nearly all of the major appliances have been installed, the water runs perfectly, and the electrics have been wired and approved. The only major task facing Richie now was decorating, which was unfortunate because Richie had been cursed with perpetually shaky hands meaning that his lines were never straight or clean enough. He’d been complaining about it to Eddie one evening, sat out on the porch, wind rustling Richie’s hair like autumn leaves, but leaving Eddie’s untouched, each hair frozen in time and space.

Richie had fallen asleep outside, a combination of the lake’s lullaby-ripples, and the warmth of the balmy night. He’d slept deeply, watched over by the moon and the stars, and woken up with a crick in his neck and freezing hands.

Eddie was no-where to be seen, but Richie was unbothered. Eddie made a habit of wandering the moors at night, unbound by the mortal need to sleep, dream and recharge. He was free to roam as he saw fit, truly a being of the night, drifting amongst the dreaming lambs and the trees that stretched humbly towards the moon. He always returned, though. Returned to the house that he’d died in, and, by association, to Richie.

Richie hauled his heavy bones into the house, and up the rickety stair case, desperate to change out of the stale smelling clothes from the night before. He could hear the clanging of something metallic, and Eddie’s high and bright whistling, like a bell beckoning Richie into the room. When Richie cautiously pushed the door open, his mouth opened in shock.

While he slept, the summer sky had materialised on his bedroom walls. Fluffy marshmallow clouds on a cornflower blue sky.

Eddie was standing in the corner of the room, paintbrush in hand, looking somewhat guilty.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up yet. You don’t normally wake up before 7 or so”

“Eddie what the hellllll” Richie drawled, eyes scanning the room in astonishment.

“Do you like it?” Eddie asked, eyes and voice earnest and so sugary sweet Richie couldn’t take it.

“I so wish I could hug you right now, this is fuckin’ torture, s’what it is. This is beautiful, Eds. It’s – I don’t have the words”

“Heh. The oven mitts are downstairs, so, I suppose … I’m glad you like it, though. I was worried you’d hate it and think that I’d over-stepped, or something”

“No! Not at all. It’s … thank you, Eddie. Seriously, thank you. This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me”

“I know you hate painting and I used to paint a bit, when I was, y’know, so … I thought I’d help you out a bit”

“You’ve done more than just help me out, Eds, yowza!”

Richie sincerely wished Eddie was wearing those damn oven gloves, as he wanted nothing more than to squeeze his hand and never let go.

– X –

The kitchen hated Richie, and, by all accounts, the feeling was pretty mutual. Laying a new floor down had been an absolute nightmare, considering the fact that the room was bizarrely shaped, so Richie had had to painstakingly cut each piece of timber out with a circle-saw to the exact measurements. This had taken longer than Richie cared to admit, but he had eventually finished, and the glossy oak floorboards smiled up at him, thanking him for his time and effort. Painting the kitchen was a breeze in comparison, throwing a white emulsion onto the walls before covering it with a blueish-grey, light and bright enough for a kitchen, but not an emotionless white. The back wall was the only one that was still just white emulsion, and Richie had planned to paint it grey in the afternoon.

That had been his plan, before he heard an almighty crash echo throughout the house, a metallic clang, and then a horrified yell.

“Eddie?! Eddie, are you okay?” Richie shouted, running down the stairs at light speed, expecting to find Eddie contorted in pain, or gone from the house entirely, or a number of equally as horrifying possibilities.

What he found when he rounded the corner, and burst into the kitchen, was blueish-grey paint covering practically every surface in the kitchen, and a very forlorn looking Eddie staring at the mess.

“What – What happened in here?!”

Eddie looked up at Richie with pleading, guilty eyes, wringing his hands together.

“I… I tried to walk through the wall carrying the paint and … Well, I suppose paint cannot travel through walls”

“What have I told you about using the effing doors!” Richie bellowed, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder to the door that he had just sprinted through.

His new floor, his expensive oak floorboards that he had laboured over for weeks, ruined. The oven had thankfully not been installed yet, and sat in its protective plastic packaging, but even that was splattered with paint. The clock was covered in paint. The gas stove that Richie had been using to cook was covered in paint. In short, everything was covered in a sheen of grey paint.

“I was trying to help,” Eddie mumbled, mouse-small, “You said you loved your new bedroom walls and I thought – I thought I’d save you some work because I know how much you hate painting and – I am a catastrophe”

Richie felt awful.

“Naw, Eds, you’re not. C’mon, it’s not that bad. I can get some white spirit on the floor, that’ll probably lift most of it, and maybe Mike will let me borrow his electric sander. Hey now, Eds, c’mon, you look like you’re going to cry, you’re killing me”

“I would cry if I could”

“Can you cry?”

“No, because if I could, I would be doing so now”

Richie opened one of the now grey kitchen drawers, and pulled out Eddie’s oven mitts. He passed them over to Eddie, who reluctantly slipped them onto his hands, the scrunch of concentration that Richie had grown so fond of etched onto his face.

“I’m gonna hold your hand now,” Richie announced, before taking Eddie’s hand in his, “I promise that I’m not mad with you. I’m just – I’m just a bit frustrated but it’s not the end of the world. Kitchens come and go but Eddie Spaghetti’s are forever”

“Is that a joke … because I am dead?” Eddie asked, voice hesitant but Richie watched as a smile formed on his face, slowly, like a flower opening to pray to the sun.  

“It wasn’t ‘sposed to be” Richie shrugged, hand still gripping onto Eddie’s mitted-hand tightly.

“Are you sure you’re not mad with me?”

“I promise”

– X –

One thing that Richie soon came to learn was that Eddie loved music. Richie often heard Eddie’s ethereal whistling echoing around the house, or heard him humming little ditty’s that Richie didn’t recognise. Sometimes Eddie sang properly, a surprisingly rich and strong tenor that stirred things in Richie’s heart that had been dormant for years.

One day, when Richie was sanding the grey paint off the floorboards in the kitchen and singing along to Higher Ground by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Eddie’s voice announced his presence before Richie was even aware of him being in the room, a habit of Eddie’s that he was growing slowly used to.

“This music sounds so different to the kind of things I used to listen to when I was younger”

Richie turned off the electric sander, before turning the radio up, Anthony Kiedis’ voice booming out of the speaker. Eddie looked vaguely alarmed, before tapping the toe of his boot slightly, face screwed in concentration, as if he was sampling the music like wine, trying to decide whether he liked the taste of the beat or not. Richie hopped around on alternate feet, pretending to slap an imaginary bass, his face screwed up in his best approximation of ‘bass face’. He wasn’t sure that Eddie would know what bass face was, but he didn’t care. Eddie watched Richie with wide, half-confused half-amused eyes, the toe of his left boot still tap-tap-tapping away to the beat.

The song drew to a close soon after, and Richie bounced over to the radio and turned it off.

“So, d’ya like it?”

“It’s … interesting. It’s different, absolutely, but … it’s good. It’s got a good beat, I like the rhythm. I … rather liked his voice,” Eddie stuttered, and Richie was sure that if it were possible for Eddie’s face to flush with embarrassment, it would be doing so right now, “but one thing I don’t understand is where you put the records in that tiny machine? Are records really tiny now?”

“Records? Why would there be records?” Richie asked as confusion washed over him in waves, before realising that Eddie had no idea what a twenty-first century radio looked like.

“Oh, no, this is a radio, not a record player. Some people still use records, but those people are called ‘hipsters’ and you wouldn’t like them. But this is a radio, you know what a radio is, right?”

“Yes, Richard, I know what a radio is. I wasn’t born 700 years ago” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Jus’ checkin’, jus’ checkin’. So you know how radios work, right? Like … the music is in the air? Radio waves and all that jazz?”

“The music is in the air?!” Eddie spluttered, eyes wide like dinner plates.

“I thought you said you knew what radios were?!”

“Well, I know what they are, I never professed to know how they work”

Richie can’t help but laugh at the expression on Eddie’s face, a picture of exasperation mixed with confusion, and he is semi-horrified by the realisation that he wants to kiss it off Eddie’s face.

Well that’s new.

Richie tries to squash all ghost-kissing desires deep into his brain into a box marked ‘bad idea’ but he knows that that box has a habit of refusing to remain closed and springing open unexpectedly.

In his desperation to sway his attention from Eddie’s grumpy, kissable face, Richie cranks the radio up even further, switching the station to the all-day 80s bangers station he’d found a few weeks ago. Bonnie Tyler’s voice filtered out of the speakers, and Richie lip-synced along with her as she lamented about the fact that she didn’t have a street-wise Hercules. Eddie watched as if transfixed, eyes following the minutia of Richie’s movements but standing on the side lines, not joining in Richie’s one-man dance party.

“Dance with me!” Richie yelled, waving his arms erratically in the air as Bonnie’s voice howled around the room.

“I can’t!”

“You can!”

“I can’t!”

“YOU CAN!” Richie practically screamed, “dance with me, Eds! Please!”

Richie’s pestering finally broke Eddie’s resolve, and just as the song peaked, Eddie started to dance.

Now it was Richie’s turn to gawp.

Eddie threw himself around the room wildly, feet a blur as he alternated between rhythmic walking, jumping and kicking his feet , whilst waving his arms in a jaunty swing, occasionally snapping his fingers or clapping his hands in time with the music.

“You’ve been holding out on me, you sneak! Look at you go!” Richie yelled over the music, hardly moving, just watching Eddie spin and twist and jump.

“I may or may not have been quite the accomplished swing dancer when I was … y’know …” Eddie gasped, mid spin.

“I fuckin’ bet you were! Look at your fancy feet!”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Eddie laughed, performing a particularly complicated piece of footwork, and peeking up at Richie with his tongue caught between his teeth.

“Damn straight, look at us, a couple-a movers and shakers, but damn, Eds, you shake it the best. You gotta teach me.”

Eddie laughed as he span past Richie, and Richie followed him, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his hips in a way that he assumed looked ridiculous, but the way Eddie’s eyes lingered on the swivel of his hips suggested otherwise.

The song finished, and a slow ballad started to play – all slow, smooth guitar and mellow vocals.

Richie, gasping from exertion, stopped dancing, and so did Eddie, who looked exactly the same as he always did, not a hair or piece of fluff out of place.

“How do we dance to this one? It’s a bit slow, Rich”

An idea crashed into Richie’s brain at warp speeds.

“Hang on”

Richie disappeared downstairs, and returned clasping Eddie’s oven mitts in his hands.

“Put these on” Richie instructed Eddie, like he always did, and once Eddie had put the mitts on, he grabbed his hands and placed them on his shoulders.

“We gotta slow dance to songs like this, them’s the rules”

“Uh … but we’re both … you aren’t a … I’m not a woman”

“I won’t tell if you won’t”

Eddie didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t move his hands, either. Knowing that he couldn’t put his hands on Eddie’s waist like he wanted to, Richie settled for placing his hands over Eddie’s mitts, on his shoulders. They swayed back and forth.

“Are you like me?” Eddie whispered, voice barely loud enough for Richie to hear over the music.

“Depends what you mean by that, Spaghetti. Am I dead? No. Am I a wicked dancer? Yes. You gotta be more specific”

“You are a brute! You know exactly what I mean”

“Do you mean ‘do I fall in love with men’?”

Eddie hesitated for a second, before nodding the affirmative.

“Then yes, I am like you. But I also fall in love with women. I like ‘em both. Greedy like that”

“Is that … is that possible?”

“Sure is, sugar!”

Eddie closed his eyes, and Richie was sure that if Eddie could cry, this would be another occasion where he would be doing so.

“I only … I only fall in love with men. I had – Rupert. We – he died. I never got to say goodbye”

A heavy sort of sadness settled in the room. Eddie’s eyes, downcast and lidded, refused to meet Richie’s. They stood in the middle of the room, touching but not really, dancing but not really, in silence.

“I hate that I can’t hold you, Eddie”

“I hate that you can’t hold me, too”

– X –

Something changed after they danced together. Not a seismic shift, but a small tremor. Eddie told Richie about Rupert, and how they’d lived together in relative sin, and as he spoke, he’d screwed up his face as if willing himself to cry, to feel something. Richie cried enough for the both of them.

A few days later, it was a lazy Sunday, and Richie is listening to a local Scottish radio station sat out on the porch with Eddie in a comfortable silence.

“I don’t know what everyone else’s plans are for the afternoon, but I’m off to have a lovely roast dinner!” the radio host announces, before signing off for the day.

“Oh, I do miss a roast dinner” Eddie announces wistfully, rubbing at his stomach comically.

“What’s a roast dinner?”

“You’ve never had a roast dinner?!”

“Uh… no? Should I have? What is it?”

Eddie abruptly stands up, and walks back into the house, listing off all the components of a roast dinner as he walks. When they get to the kitchen, Eddie marches straight over to the fridge and, without opening it, sticks his head right through the door, before also sticking his left hand straight through the metal, as if the fridge was not a solid object at all. Richie is sure that there will never be a day that he doesn’t find that unbelievably funny.

“You have all the vegetables, but the only meat you have is … this!” Eddie pulls his head back through the fridge door, looking at his hand triumphantly, only to find that his hand is empty.

“I keep forgetting I cannot move things through other solid objects” Eddie deadpans, smacking his forehead in embarrassment.

Richie cackles at him, before moving to open the fridge himself, and seeing a lonely looking peperami lying on the bottom of the fridge. With Eddie’s help, Richie manages to cook the roast dinner without too much issue. The only time Eddie screeches at him is when he pours way too much oil into the roasting pan for the potatoes, but that issue is quickly rectified. After a few hours, the meal is prepared, and Richie plates up feeling overwhelmingly guilty that Eddie can’t share in the meal that he helped to prepare. Eddie assures him that he doesn’t miss eating that much, and ushers Richie into the dining room, where the new dining table stands proudly in the middle of the room. Richie places his plate on the table, before realising that he’d forgotten cutlery and a glass of water. Eddie, who had been standing behind his chair, follows him into the kitchen, walking straight through the table, and babbling nonsense about how Richie was about to experience something truly magical.

When Richie returned to the dining table, he found that his food was now burnt beyond recognition, the fresh vegetables that had been lying on his plate mere seconds ago now transformed into a smoky black sludge.

“What in God’s name …” Richie muttered, staring at the burnt food in disbelief as the cutlery slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a thud.

Richie looks at Eddie, then back to the ruined food on his plate, then back to Eddie. Without saying anything, he ran back into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of broccoli, before charging back into the living room and throwing the broccoli directly at Eddie’s head.

The broccoli fell to the floor.

Or, more accurately, the broccoli that was now a black, burnt sludge fell to the floor.

“For fucks sake!”

– X –

Richie stays up late that night, sleepy eyes glued to his computer, scrolling through useless website after useless website before he lands on the first thing that looks even remotely promising 16 pages into the google search.

Stanley Uris – Corporeal Reanimator