#he should’ve been a smoker

[secretly-a-catamount]

Everyday mourn I our loss of Smoker!Julian

[hoe4hotchner]

I know you are probably so tired of this but I NEED more smoker Hotch, I do know why but the pure thought of Aaron Hotchner smoking just does something to me, I also wanted to say thank you so much for all that you do for the Aaron hotchner fan base and even the criminal minds fandom ❤️

Bad habits | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Smoking cigarettes

A/N: I'm never tired of getting requests (cause let's be honest smoker!hotch is too hot for his own good) Thank you so much for the kind words. It means a lot to hear. 💕💕💕

The first time you caught Aaron smoking, it was in his garage, out of all places. He leaned against the back wall, one foot propped up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling between his fingers. The faint glow from the overhead bulb cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension etched into his features.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen in the doorway, watching. This was Aaron Hotchner, your steadfast, composed partner. The man who was usually all discipline, who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever letting it show. And yet, here he was, indulging in what could only be described as a private ritual.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe, breaking the silence. “I didn’t take you for a smoker.”

Aaron turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. His expression didn’t shift much, but you could tell you’d caught him off guard. The hand holding the cigarette hovered near his side like he wasn’t sure whether to hide it or finish it.

“It’s... occasional,” he said after a pause, his voice gravelly, almost sheepish. “Stress, mostly.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the garage. “Stress? Really? You expect me to believe this is a spur-of-the-moment thing?”

The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You think I have a habit?”

“Oh, I know you do,” you shot back, your tone teasing. “You’ve clearly done this before. What, do you sneak out here after bad cases? After long nights at work?” You'd meant it as a joke, but deep down, you knew that some of it probably held truth to it.

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, the tendrils curling lazily. “Something like that.”

You moved closer, the faint scent of smoke mixed with the familiar aroma of the garage. It should’ve been off-putting, but there was something about the way the cigarette looked in his hand that made your pulse quicken.

“You know, it’s terrible for you,” you said, tilting your head as you studied him.

His lips quirked into a smile, closing his eyes for a split second, more amusement than apology. “So I’ve heard.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence. You couldn’t stop watching him — the way his fingers held the cigarette, the way his jaw tightened as he brought it to his lips, and the way the soft glow of the embers lit his face up with each inhale.

It shouldn’t have been attractive. But it was.

“You’re staring,” Aaron said, breaking the spell.

You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Am not.”

“You are,” he replied. He held the cigarette out to you, his eyes studying your reaction. “Want to try?”

You frowned, narrowing your eyes. “Is this how you justify it? Getting me to join in so you feel less guilty?”

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “Maybe.”

Your lips twitched as you took the cigarette from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. The contact was brief but electric, and you had to steel yourself against the flutter it sent through your chest.

The cigarette felt foreign between your fingers, and you glanced at Aaron for guidance. He stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding.

“Breathe in slowly,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “Not too deep. It’ll burn if you’re not used to it.”

You followed his instructions, the taste sharp and smoky as it filled your lungs. It wasn’t pleasant — not really — but the way Aaron watched you, his gaze steady and just a little amused, made the moment strangely intimate.

When you exhaled, you handed the cigarette back to him, coughing slightly. “That’s disgusting.”

Aaron chuckled softly. “I didn’t say it was enjoyable.”

“Then why do it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He took one last drag, his eyes distant for a moment before killing the cigarette in the ashtray on the table next to him. “Because sometimes,” he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s the only thing that helps.”

Your heart twisted at the admission. He didn’t have to say what it was — you knew fully well what he meant, and you admired him for taking on that burden.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. “You know you don’t have to carry everything alone, right?”

“I know.”

And maybe he did. But as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple, you made a silent vow to remind him as often as he needed.

[domjaehyun]

the boy is mine (l.dh) — part four

PAIRING. haechan x fem!reader (jeno x reader as well in this part) GENRES. smut, angst WORD COUNT. 19.8k CONTENTS. infidelity, alcohol & weed consumption (MC is a non-smoker if that matters to you), explicit smut (dirty talk, fingering, finger sucking, oral (receiving), rimming (receiving), groping/frottage, marking, spit play, (brief) ear play, breast play, creampies/unprotected sex (if you explicitly need me, a stranger on the internet, to tell you not to fuck raw, you are not responsible enough to be reading this. move along now), snowballing, public sex, car sex, riding, bratty dom-leaning switch!haechan, bratty sub-leaning switch!reader, sweet dom!jeno, face riding, handjob, overstimulation (receiving), praise kink (receiving), light degradation kink (giving), mating press, morning sex) NOTES. here’s part four!! i hope you enjoy it!! please leave feedback if you liked it :) i would also greatly appreciate tips if you really liked it :3 THANK YOU LIKE THE HUUUUUGEST THANK YOU TO BRI (@jalitepng) FOR BETA READING THIS BIG OL FIC :D  PLAYLIST. the boy is mine - ariana grande // fantasize - ariana grande (unreleased) // lowkey (feat. erykah badu) - teyana taylor // agora hills - doja cat // pussy is mine - miguel // softest touch - khalid // cut - tori kelly // seatbelt - josh levi // often - doja cat // surrender - nbdy

NEED TO CATCH UP? here’s a link to the fic masterlist :)

“Honestly? I think you’re fucked.” Seulgi announces plainly, and you gasp. “Casanova got you, and you’re hooked. It’s over for this friend group as we know it.”

“We—I’m not—girl, fuck you!” you huff, throwing a piece of popcorn at her.

“I’m right!” 

“Your pessimistic ass can sit over there and shut up while the rest of us try to fix this.” you huff, crossing your arms.

“Babe, I don’t know if this is fixable, though.” Yunjin chimes in gently, and you frown deeply. “He clearly doesn’t want to stop any time soon and, evidently, neither do you.”

“I tried,” you croak out, and Yunjin shushes you sweetly.

“I know—”

“He wanted to talk to me in person!” you bemoan, throwing your hands up.

“Should’ve said no.” Seulgi replies with a shrug, and you glare at her.

“I did, actually.”

She shrugs again, inspecting her nails. “Should’ve meant it.”

You stare at her for a moment before slowly bringing your finger up to point at her. “Now you look here, wench.”

“Wench is outrageous.” she snorts, but you ignore her.

“I’ve had enough of your mouth!”

“And I’ve had enough of the adultery, actually, yet here we are.” she counters, and you pause, shocked. “Like how much longer are we going to hear about you and Haechan sneaking around, and how much longer am I supposed to smile in that poor girl’s face like I don’t know everything I know?”

The room is silent in the wake of Seulgi’s outburst, and you look down at your hands uncomfortably. There’s nothing to say, frankly, because she’s right.

“And Chae, I’m really shocked at you; you’re the closest person to Winter and you’re okay with all this?”

Chaewon blinks, stunned by the sudden shift in attack, and discomfort settles on her face. “This isn’t about me.”

“Yeah, she’s just being a good friend—”

“To you. Don’t we think Winter could use a good friend or two?” Seulgi stresses, and you sit up in your spot on the couch.

“Seulgi, you’re literally here. You’re here! You’re here with the cheater! The adulterer, the man-stealer, and you’re here with her enabling friends and you, up until just now, have been one of the said friends!” you counter, and Seulgi just huffs, crossing her arms in her spot. “So don’t act like you’ve been against this all along when in reality your conscience developed, like, five minutes ago.” 

The air is thick with tension now after you’ve finished speaking, and it’s Seulgi’s turn to look uncomfortable.

“I just feel so bad for her.” she admits, and you sigh heavily. 

“I do, too. You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to fight this. He’s just so…”

“Annoying?”

“Insistent?”

“Irritating?”

“Determined.” you settle on, rolling your eyes at your friends’ unhelpful suggestions. “He’s determined. He’s confident practically every single time he comes up to me that he’s gonna get me and, I don’t know, I guess it makes my resolve waver.”

“I feel like if you didn’t like him, this wouldn’t be an issue. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to reject the advances of a man you decidedly do not want.” Seulgi says, sounding much calmer than before, and some of the tension in the room dissipates.

“I feel like we established she likes him, like, the night before she tried to end things.” Chaewon chimes in, and you immediately exclaim in protest.

“I never said that!”

“You didn’t have to.” Yunjin interjects, looking at you with a “duh” expression. “It was obvious.”

“To everyone but me, I guess.” you mutter petulantly, and your imminent sulking session is interrupted when all of your phones go off around the same time, and you all look at each other in confusion. You reach for your phone and open it, reading the notification. “Speak of the devil.” you chuckle as your friends open their phones to see Haechan’s message to the group chat.

haechan [20:09] guys my job gave me a voucher for a free wine tasting and i can bring friends 😎 who wants to go with me tomorrow?

“Oh, a wine tasting sounds fun,” Chaewon says, intrigued, and you purse your lips in thought.

“I don’t know if we should get two secret lovers in the same friend group tipsy at the same time.” Seulgi says slowly, and you frown at her.

“It’s a couple glasses of wine,” you explain with a roll of your eyes, “not twelve shots of Casamigos.”

Your phones go off again, and you all read the new reply.

winter [20:12] ooh that sounds fun! i’m down after work :)

“Well…we could leave it as a date for them?” Yunjin tries hopefully, looking around at you all. 

jeno [20:14] sure i’m in

mark [20:15] me too

[chenle liked “me too”]

chenle [22:17] what car is gonna take all our tipsy asses home?

“Well, so much for that.” Yunjin sighs in defeat. 

seulgi [22:18] there are uber xls that can fit 9 passengers :)

“Seulgi, you’re not helping!” Yunjin scolds, and she frowns up at you all.

“I supplied key and relevant information. I helped.” she replies stubbornly. “Plus, I like wine.”

chaewon [22:20] i’m excited :p

“So, we’re not even consulting each other anymore?” you remark incredulously, narrowing your eyes at Chaewon, who sticks her tongue out at you. “Fine.”

you [22:23] yeah yeah yeah drank in my cup or whatever kirko bangz said

you [22:23] what time are we thinking of going?

haechan [22:24] we’ll all be done with work by 6:00, right? why not meet up somewhere and take an uber to get there by 6:30? it’s a little out of the way but it’s good stuff trust me

yunjin [22:26] sounds good to me. can we meet up at your place, haechan?

chenle [22:27] excuse me i live there too 

chenle [22:27] MY NAME IS ON THE LEASE AGREEMENT

yunjin [22:29] who are you yelling at? 😒

chenle [22:29] ………………………..no one 😞

[yunjin liked “………………………..no one 😞”]

“Okay, well, now that’s happening.” you mutter, locking your phone.

“You really can’t catch a break, huh?” Yunjin laughs, but it sounds a bit sad, her brows furrowed sympathetically.

“Apparently not.” you mumble defeatedly, drumming your fingers on your knee. Your phone goes off again, and you look around, but apparently it’s just yours this time and, after checking it, you sigh softly.

haechan [22:32] can’t wait to see you tomorrow 💖

“Definitely not, actually.” you say to yourself.

The vineyard itself is beautiful, the beautiful, sunny spring day only enhancing its majesty, and it’s all you can do not to marvel openly at the wooden yet elegant architecture and the seemingly endless rows of wine grapes to be harvested.

”You’re gonna catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that.” Haechan murmurs playfully as you all follow the hostess to your table.

“Oh, hush,” you huff, but you close your mouth nonetheless. You reach your table, which is long, wooden, and oval-shaped, and all of you move to sit, with you ending up between Mark and, unsurprisingly, Haechan.

The hostess passes out a leaflet to each of you and explains, “Our wine tasting is a bit more interactive than most; you can make selections on the leaflet of which wines you’d like to try for which rounds, and the notes of each wine is listed below for your consideration. We’ll give you all a moment to make your selections and one of our servers will come back and collect them so we can get started.”

As you fill out your leaflet, you can’t help but feel Haechan’s nosy eyes peering over your shoulder at your choices.

”This isn’t a test, Haechan, you don’t need to copy me.” you snicker, and he just sticks his tongue out at you and continues to observe you, making you increasingly more unsettled and ready to snap by the minute. It’s when Haechan makes a disapproving hum at your next selection that you set your pen down and turn to face him.

”Can I help you, Judgy Pants?” you ask, and he offers a small secretive smile in return.

”Do you trust me?” he asks, and you pause.

”Not particularly.” you say slowly, and he winces. “Why?”

“First of all, ouch.” he complains, placing a hand over his chest like he’s been wounded, and you giggle. “Second of all, we’re at a wine tasting and wine is literally my job and field of expertise, so… do you trust me to pick your wines for you?”

Your brows furrow slightly before you say, “I mean, I haven’t told you anything about what I like and don’t like in wine.”

”So?” he asks, shrugging.

”So,” you continue, rolling your eyes, “how would you have any idea what I’d like?”

It’s apparently Haechan’s turn to roll his eyes as he regards you, murmuring, “You think that with all the time I spend focused—no, fixated—on you, I would have absolutely no idea of what you might like to drink?”

You balk at his plain, unashamed admission and feel warmth starting to bloom in your cheeks. “Okay,” you finally agree. “Well, in that case, go for it.” 

You move to pass him your leaflet, but he just leans over, bogarting your personal space, and remains unreasonably close as he circles the wines he thinks you’ll like. Whether he notices the way you inhale sharply and stiffen in place or not, he doesn’t comment, seemingly focused on filling out your leaflet.

The server arrives shortly after to collect all of your leaflets and leaves once more to bring out your first round of wines, returning a couple of moments later with two trays of drinks which she gingerly sets down in the center of your table before passing out each wine glass individually.

As you bring your glass to your lips, Haechan watches intently, brows raised in anticipation. The wine is delicious—it’s sweet and bubbly and fruity and you smile subconsciously, unknowingly provoking a relieved and satisfied grin from Haechan.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” he asks knowingly, and you nod excitedly, sipping eagerly at the glass again but slowly enough that you can still savor it. 

“That really was so good,” you hum, content as you finish the last of your glass and set it down earlier than everyone—except for Mark, who set his down on the table moments earlier after chugging the half-filled glass like it was a red Solo cup of jungle juice.

”Mark, you know you’re supposed to sip it, right?” you ask with a small laugh, and Mark grins sheepishly.

“My bad,” he chuckles.

Gradually, the rest of your friends finish their first drink, and the server comes around to collect your glasses.

”How was your first round?” she asks hopefully, and your voices all overlap as you tell her how good it was. “That’s great to hear! I’ll be right back with your second round, and feel free to let me know if you need any water or anything like that.”

When she leaves, Haechan turns to face you with a wide, proud grin. “Did I do a good job or what?”

“You did,” you confirm. Haechan takes an almost unnoticeable deep breath, a preparatory one as if he’s about to cheer or get loud in some other manner, and you continue on quickly before he gets the chance. “I just hope the next ones are good, too.”

“They’ll be even better,” Haechan assures you confidently, and you hum skeptically. 

“We’ll have to see about that.”

The next wine, like Haechan predicted, is even better than the first. It’s slightly drier, with an aftertaste of raspberry, and you find yourself wishing you hadn’t finished it so quickly.

”Don’t look so smug,” you laugh as he smiles at you, radiating self-satisfaction from his proud, puffed-out chest.

“Can’t help it,” he replies confidently. “I love being good at my job.”

“Man, next time we should go to a beer tasting,” Jeno pipes up, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“You know, I’ve always thought beer tasted like pee.” you remark thoughtfully, and Jeno snorts in amusement. 

“I’ve never tasted pee to know for sure.” he replies, and you frown deeply.

“Well, of course I haven’t tasted pee! But you know how sometimes smells get stuck in the back of your throat and you can kinda taste it? When I taste beer, it makes me think of pee.” you defend yourself, and Haechan nods from beside you.

“It does taste funny.” he echoes, and you smile, feeling vindicated.

“See? It’s not just me.” you add on, and Jeno chuckles.

“Maybe you haven’t had the right beer yet,” he suggests, and you shrug.

“I guess I haven’t.” you agree slowly. “I do know that these wines are crazy good.”

“Did you just have the one with raspberry notes?” Chaewon asks curiously, and you nod eagerly. 

“Isn’t it so good?!” you exclaim excitedly, and Haechan laughs from beside you.

“It’s delicious,” she confirms happily. “Matter of fact—where’d she go?”

As Chaewon starts attempting to flag down your hostess for another glass of the wine, you look over at Haechan, who’s already looking at you with a fond expression on his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you giggle, and he sits forward to murmur in your ear. 

“You’re cute when you’re tipsy.” When you suck your teeth at him dismissively in response, he reaches to clutch your leg under the table, making you stiffen in place. “Such a mouth on you,” he muses thoughtfully. “I’m so nice to you, and you’re mean to me like this?” His pout is audible in his voice, as is his amusement.

You can’t help but giggle at his playful tone, but you do manage to reply with, “I’m not mean! And I’m not tipsy!”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenges softly, his fingers stroking your inner thigh with a slow furling and unfurling of his fingers. “Prove it.” 

“Which part?”

“Both. Be nice to me and do a sobriety test.” he replies, and you snort far too loudly to be discreet.

“Shush, Haechan. Chae, look, the hostess is coming back!” you direct your friend’s attention to your approaching hostess, who smiles when she makes eye contact with you. “I barely feel anything,” you whisper to Haechan, who gently pinches your inner thigh in lieu of a verbal response.

“You will in a bit.” he replies confidently, and you glower in his direction.

“Whatever.”

You’re on your fourth cup of wine, all of them having tasted dangerously like juice, and you can’t lie, you’re starting to feel it.

You’re gigglier than usual, more playful, and Haechan picks up on it with a keen raise of his brows. You look at Haechan’s cup longingly after you finish yours, and he shakes his head.

”You’re not gonna like it.” 

“Lemme try it and see for myself,” you insist, and he chuckles fondly, shaking his head in amusement before shrugging in defeat and passing you the cup, your fingers curling around the cup and over his hand.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a little hard-headed?” he asks lightheartedly, and you pause to think.

“Yes. And stubborn, and defiant.” you recall, and he lets out a low whistle.

“What about a brat, huh? Anyone ever call you that?” he asks with raised brows and you narrow your eyes.

“Besides you? No, actually.”

“Aw,” Haechan coos fondly. “I was your first.”

“Let’s not make it weird,” you warn him, and he wiggles his eyebrows flirtatiously.

“Let’s actually make it super weird,” he proposes with a suggestive grin, and you step on his foot under the table. “Ow!”

“Hush so I can focus on this wine.” you scold him, just now realizing he never let go of the glass and you two have essentially been holding hands this whole time. It’s not the realization that makes you feel butterflies, it’s the subsequent realization that you like it. 

You don’t know if the wine is starting to think for you, but you genuinely want to hold Haechan’s hand for just a moment longer.

“Then focus,” Haechan says, gesturing with his free hand for you to try the drink in your hand.

You take a tentative sniff first, suppose the drink smells sweet enough, and take a careful sip, immediately wrinkling your nose at the too fizzy, too bitter taste spreading across your tastebuds. You thrust the glass back into Haechan’s proximity with a grimace as he laughs, but you don’t let go of it yet, still trying to steal more intimate moments with him with your hand enveloping his.

“Man, that was a lot.” you say with a frown. Haechan shrugs as if to say, “I told you so!”

“I knew you weren’t going to like it.” he reminds you, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t get how you like it.” you say with an accusing tone, and he snorts in amusement. 

“I like it bitter and sharp sometimes,” he explains. “I like how… invigorating it feels.”

“Blech,” you gag, and he narrows his eyes at you playfully before bringing the glass to his lips for a sip, your arm gently being tugged along as he switches the positioning of your hands so his is outside of yours. He grants you mercy for a moment, breaking eye contact to watch as he turns his cup this way and that.

Before you can ask what he’s looking for, you both spot it at the same time—your lip gloss mark left on the rim of the wine glass, and you watch, mesmerized, as he deliberately places his lips exactly over your lip gloss stain and takes a long sip.

You think you might actually melt into the floor at the rate that your body is heating up with a fiery blend of embarrassment, bashfulness, and—to be honest—desire.

If the indirect kiss wasn’t enough, when he pulls his lips from the glass, he shifts your joined grip on the glass so subtly you almost miss it, and presses a flirtatious, lingering kiss to your hand just between your second and third knuckles, dropping one eyelid into a small wink for good measure.

Your breath catches in your throat, and now you think you actually would like to melt into the floor—anything to escape the so-consuming-it’s-almost-overwhelming experience that is having Haechan’s undivided attention. 

As if he could read minds, Haechan’s eyes light up in realization, and you practically feel your heart drop.

“Are you getting shy right now?” he asks curiously.

“No?” you reply immediately, your heart starting to thud harder in your chest as his eyes twinkle with mischief and satisfaction.

“You answered that way too quickly.” Haechan points out, his smile widening into a wolfish grin. “Am I making you shy, baby?” His voice is soft and low, teasing and suggestive, and you frown deeply. “You know, you’re very cute when you’re shy.”

He’s got his eyes trained unwaveringly on you and you keep looking at him and away, your gaze darting all around in a desperate attempt to save yourself from this interaction.

“I’m not shy,” you mumble, your body betraying you as you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Oh, yeah? If you’re not shy, then look me in the eyes.” Haechan challenges quietly, and you, after a moment (too long) and with poorly concealed difficulty, comply, staring him squarely in the eyes.

“See? I’m unaffected by… whatever it is you’re doing,” you lie, confusion blooming when he breaks out into a radiant, teasing toothy grin.

“I’m not doing anything, baby.” His eyes twinkle, his smile dazzles, and for a moment you wonder if he could blind you with how radiant his aura is. Leaning in closer, he licks his lips, flicks his gaze down to your lap and back up to your face, and continues, “I think you just like me.”

It takes absolutely every nerve in your body not to react with the indignant splutter you have locked and loaded for him, instead choosing to stay silent and look confused so as not to draw attention to you two. 

For a moment, you wonder how no one’s noticed you two, but when you scan your friends’ tipsy, dopey smiles and glazed over eyes as they all seem to have split off into smaller conversations, you realize they’re juggling numerous distractions, leaving you and Haechan free to do… whatever this is.  

“You’re silly.” you counter him with a dismissive roll of your eyes, and Haechan raises his eyebrow in a silent challenge.

“And you’re still holding my hand.”

You look down with a jolt and realize that, yes, you most certainly are still holding Haechan’s hand and have been holding it for approximately… too long to play off as nothing.

“I didn’t even realize,” you marvel quietly, and he nods with an understanding expression that borders on smug.

“I just make you that comfortable, huh? You like me that much, huh?” he teases, and you grouch and grumble under your breath, snatching your hand from his (and regretting it instantly).

”I’m going to the bathroom.” you announce, standing from the table without warning and wobbling slightly as you try to catch your balance.

Haechan and Mark both steady you with Mark’s cautious hand on your side and Haechan’s secure grip on your hip.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely.

“Wait, I’m coming,” Yunjin pipes up, seemingly appearing out of nowhere from your left. She was not a part of the scan you did on your friends because one look at her and you’re on edge all over again, because she looks very much like she has her wits about her, like she’s barely had a glass of wine, and, most importantly as indicated by the keen glint in her eye, like she has something important to say to you. She makes her way over to your side of the table, looping her arm with yours and guiding you towards the hanging sign indicating the location of the bathrooms. 

The bathroom door has barely shut before Yunjin turns to look at you with her shrewd gaze.

You can’t help but feel small under her stare. “Yes?”

“Girlypop, you look like you’re in love with him. Like I truly hate to break it to you, but you look smitten.”

“I am not!” you splutter indignantly, and she raises her eyebrows skeptically.

“You couldn’t even make eye contact with him earlier.” she points out simply, and you balk.

“You saw that?” you squeak pathetically, and she nods. “Ugh, okay, maybe I am a little smitten.”

She snorts. “Maybe?”

“Shush,” you huff. “What am I gonna do?” you wail, and it’s her turn to shush you, cupping your face in her hands.

“It’s okay, bunny bee. We’re gonna figure this out,” she assures you, and you nod lamely. “In the meantime, try to keep your distance.”

You nod in agreement and she smiles comfortingly, linking arms with you once more and leading you both back to the table. When you approach, Yunjin slips in front of you and takes your old seat, much to Haechan’s surprise, and you follow suit, sitting in her previous spot between Chaewon and Chenle.

Haechan is clearly not over your last conversation, the male sitting across from you making eyes at you as if daring you to look back at him. Your gazes connect several times, each time leaving him more triumphant than before and leaving you infinitely closer to unraveling entirely and dissolving into what would be, frankly, an embarrassing fit of girlish giggles.

The rest of the wine tasting goes by without any incident, Haechan’s wine selections for you making for a very palatable round of drinks, and a couple of you even take home a bottle of your favorite one, thanking the staff and bidding them goodbye as you wait for your Uber home to arrive.

When it arrives, you all start filing in without any rhyme or reason, the nine of you throwing strategy to the wind as you enter the Kia Carnival and settle down. It takes a couple of moments for you to realize as the seats fill up that, firstly, the seats next to you are still empty and, secondly, that Haechan is not yet in the car. 

At what feels like the very last moment, Haechan slips into the seat beside you, the side of his leg pressed up against yours as you all get situated.

As your driver pulls off and easy conversation starts among you all, you can barely focus on anything other than Haechan—how warm he feels beside you, how good he smells, how comforting and exciting his mere presence is, and it hits you in the moment just how much you really like him as you stare wordlessly down at your lap.

The realization is practically staggering, your world feeling like it’s falling apart at the seams all because you can’t keep yourself away from your friend’s boyfriend. It was easier when you thought it was just sexual, to be honest, but ever since that day at the museum and the way he looked at you—you think you might have been a goner from the beginning.

You feel doomed. You feel doomed, and stuck, and frustrated, and deeply overwhelmed, and you don’t know how to fix the absolute shit show you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until a tear falls onto your hand, and you blink in surprise before wiping the tear on your leg and quickly swiping the next one from your eye before it can drop as subtly as possible. 

Unfortunately, Haechan notices your small gesture and looks over at you, growing concern written plainly on his face. 

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it after a vehement shake of your head. He frowns, worry all over his handsome features as your bottom lip threatens to tremble with the weight of your unshed tears. 

He pulls out his phone and types something into an empty note in his Notes app before tilting his screen so you can see.

What’s wrong?

You shake your head dismissively, trying even harder now not to cry from the gentle concern he’s showing you. He types something else and turns it to show you again.

Can I help at all?

You shake your head again, a small sniffle slipping out despite your best efforts to hold it back, and alarm takes over his face before he frowns deeply and locks his phone, setting it back on his lap and drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously.

You don’t expect him to persist in trying to comfort you, so it comes as even more of a shock when he slips his hand between your bodies and turns it up in a silent offering. 

You pause for a moment before slowly linking your fingers with his and hoping he can’t feel the way your hand trembles.

He curls his fingers around yours in a warm, reassuring gesture, and it takes everything in you not to burst into tears at the whole situation—his kindness, his loveliness, your growing affections for him, and your immense guilt about coming in the middle of his and Winter’s relationship.

All you can do at the moment is sit silently until the Uber drops off you and Yunjin, at which point you plan to fall into her arms weeping—or something like that. Until you can do that, however, you’re stuck in this car secretly holding hands with Haechan, who, to his credit, doesn’t let go of your hand not once.

It’s not until you have to exit the car that he finally releases you with a reassuring squeeze, and as you and Yunjin make your way to your apartment, you can’t shake the feeling that you wish he hadn’t. 

As you get ready for bed, you think about your dilemma for what feels like ages, pondering how this could have happened to you, when it hits you—you really were doomed from the beginning. 

The night you two met, there were unmistakable sparks, and, at the time, it was the closest you’d come to feeling truly connected to someone. You hate to say it, but you wish he and Winter never dated so you could have him without feeling guilty. No matter how hard you tried to fight it, the chemistry was undeniable.

If everything happens for a reason, what on Earth could be the reason for this?

It’s not until you get into your bed and are rubbing your legs together, not unlike a cricket, to get comfortable that you realize that the only lesson the universe could possibly be teaching you is that you only live once. You’ve ruled out the lesson being restraint and self-control because, frankly, your whole life has been a testament to denying yourself various pleasures, and maybe Haechan was right that first night; maybe some risks are worth the reward. 

Finally drifting off to sleep, you feel a bit more at ease with your decision. You’ve spent your whole life being good; maybe it’s time to be a little selfish and have fun with Haechan for as long as you can before… well, you don’t particularly know what will happen, but for one of the first times, you’re willing to find out.

As you walk down the hallway to Mark’s and Jeno’s apartment, the music grows louder and louder and you can’t help but feel bad for their neighbors as the party only really just kicked off at 11:00pm.

Seconds after you knock, the door opens and some guy you only vaguely recognize ushers you in with a weirdly focused stare and unnerving grin.

“Who put rando in charge of party entry?” you mumble as you, Yunjin, and Chaewon link arms and start to make your way to the kitchen to get refreshments and hopefully some quiet to gather your thoughts.

As Chaewon raids the fridge, you root through the cabinet until you find the pack of Capri Suns you’re looking for, fishing out two and handing one to Yunjin.

“Score,” Chaewon whispers, eyes lighting up when she pulls a Sunny-D drink from the fridge.

“Your obsession with our childhood drinks must be studied.” Yunjin chuckles, sipping from the Capri Sun you gave her before downing two of the nips of Tito’s she brought with her.

“It helps heal my inner child,” she huffs defensively, taking a large gulp and sighing contently.

“Does the healing come before or after the Casamigos?” you ask wryly, and her eyes narrow in your direction. “Just curious!”

“You guys made it!” Mark cheers, startling the three of you as he enters the kitchen. “We were worried you two got too high to leave the house.” he explains, gesturing at Yunjin and Chaewon, who splutter defensively.

“We did not!” they insist, but Mark looks at you for the truth.

“They didn’t!” you defend them, and they nod proudly.

(You catch Mark’s eye privately and nod in confirmation. “They did.” you mouth. “But I saved us.”

“I know.” Mark agrees silently. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, and you giggle quietly.)

“Are you guys having a good time so far? Have you been here long?” Mark asks, and you shoot him a thumbs up.

“No, we just got here, actually.” you explain, your phone distracting you by buzzing in your back pocket. You pull it out to check it, a secretive smile making its way onto your lips when you read the name on the message notification.

haechan [22:08] hey you here yet?

You look up from your phone to Mark’s scrutinizing gaze, making you frown and shake your head to dismiss him.

“It’s nothing.” you assure him, and he narrows his eyes for a moment before relenting and focusing his attention on Chaewon, who’s gone on another search through their fridge, this time for snacks.

you [22:10] yeah in the kitchen w mark yunjin n chae

His reply is instant. 

haechan [22:10] bet

Excitement builds, a slow drum crescendo in your stomach as you anticipate seeing Haechan; what he might be wearing, how his hair is styled, his scent, and the way his voice lilts when he talks to you specifically—

“Hello?” Mark snickers, waving a hand in your face to get your attention. You snap out of your reverie and Mark rolls his eyes but smiles fondly. “Welcome back. You sure you didn’t take a hit, too?”

“Positive.” you snort, and he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Yeah, well—wait.” you cut yourself off mid-retort, looking around the room. “Where’d Yunjin go?”

“She probably went to go find everyone else,” Chaewon pipes up, now snacking on edible cookie dough and leaning into your side.

“True. Let’s go find her,” Mark offers, and you agree instantly, leaving the kitchen in a single file line with your hand wrapped around Chaewon’s. 

To no one’s surprise, as soon as you leave the peace and quiet of the kitchen, you three are separated almost instantly, leaving you alone in the middle of the packed living room and your friends scattered amongst the crowd. 

As you walk by a group of people in search of your friends, an arm loops around your waist and pulls you into their body. You don’t even flinch, already recognizing the person’s embrace as you curl into Haechan’s chest and smile up at him.

“Hi, handsome.” you coo, and he grins, running his free hand through his hair casually.

“Hey, baby. You look amazing,” he compliments, and your cheeks warm. “I went to the kitchen a minute ago to find you, but you weren’t there.” he says with a devastatingly attractive pout.

“I was trying to track down where Yunjin went! Then when we left the kitchen, I lost Chaewon and Mark, too.” you reply with a frown of your own.

“I just saw Yunjin by the balcony talking to some dude.” Haechan says, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in her general direction. “She seems okay.”

���Okay,” you say, letting out a relieved sigh.

“How are you, though?” Haechan asks with a hint of worry, and you remember the way you left things with him after crying in the cab home from the wine tasting. “What was wrong the other night?”

“Oh, um. It was nothing, actually. I was thinking about a really, uh, sad video I saw the other day and it got to me again.” you explain hesitantly, and Haechan lifts one eyebrow skeptically.

“Oh, really?” he challenges, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Yes, really.” you counter, and you two stare at each other with loaded gazes before he breaks it, raising his hands in surrender.

“Fine, I’ll drop it.” he relents, and you smile triumphantly. “But, baby, do me a favor,” Haechan continues, looking around behind you, and you tilt your head to the side curiously.

“What is it?”

“Ignore Jeno tonight.” he states, and you raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

“You’re kidding, right?” you say flatly, and he shakes his head. “Okay, so you’re gonna flirt with me all night, right? And ignore Winter?”

“Well, you know I can’t do that,” he replies slowly.

You most definitely did know that, and his answer only helps to prove your point. So why do his words feel like a bucket of ice cold water being poured on your head? 

You attempt to shake it off internally, so you just nod slowly to his words, waiting for him to catch on.

“So it’s fair that you get to play around all night, but I get nothing?” you huff, pulling back from him slightly, and his grip tightens around your waist. “Yeah, no.”

“No?” he echoes, furrowing his brows in surprise and confusion.

“No.” you confirm, looking up at him. “I’m gonna flirt with Jeno.”

“You’re gonna flirt with him.” Haechan echoes flatly in disbelief, and you nod, patting his chest. “That’s even worse. I don’t want to share you with him.”

“Wh–and you think I want to share you with her?” you whisper heatedly, and he shoots you a warning look.

“That’s not the same.” 

“Bullshit.” you retort, and he groans under his breath. “As a matter of fact,” you say, extracting yourself from his embrace, “let me go enjoy my night.”

“Are you mad at me?” Haechan asks, incredulous, and you look back at him like he’s stupid.

“Guess.” you reply shortly before turning on your heel and venturing further into the party and farther away from Haechan.

“You know…” you sigh, leaning against the wall, “I haven’t seen Jeno all night.”

Seulgi shoots you a funny look. “Didn’t you just get here, like, thirty minutes ago?”

You glower back at her. “Well, yes, but it’s his place. Why is he not running out and about and amok in the living room for my viewing pleasure?”

“Since when have you looked away from Haechan long enough to notice Jeno was missing?” Seulgi questions, regarding you carefully. At your expression, she raises her eyebrows. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No,” you quip back shortly.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” she says with a shrug, and you sigh loudly.

“Well…”

“What is it?” she presses gently, and you frown.

“Haechan told me not to talk to Jeno tonight.” you explain, and her brows shoot up in surprise.

“Did he say why?”

“I feel like we both know why. The jealousy was implied.” you sniff, turning your nose up. 

“He’s got some nerve.” she chuckles in surprise, and you nod vigorously.

“He’s got some fucking nerve, right?!” you agree, and she rubs your back comfortingly.

“So what did you say?” she asks, and you balk.

“Well, I pointed out the double standard.” you say slowly. 

Seulgi arches an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“...I said he should ignore Winter, then.” you mutter quietly, and she shoots you an incredulous glare. “It was to point out that he can’t ask me to do something like that!”

“Yeah, okay, but what if he was like ‘bet,’ and ignored Winter all night in favor of you? Well—” Seulgi looks off into the distance for a brief moment in contemplation. 

“Shut up.” You already know where she’s going with this.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m right!”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“He literally has.” Seulgi reminds you.

“He didn’t do it today.” you counter with a stubborn frown.

“Well, maybe we should stop focusing on what he didn’t do and worry about what you’re going to do.” she supplies helpfully.

You nod slowly. “You’re right.”

“I know.” She leans back against the wall, pleased with herself.

“Wow, and so humble, too.” you drawl, and she giggles.

“I’m gonna… flirt with Jeno, for starters.”

“Maybe he can help take your mind off of Haechan!” she suggests, and you nod slowly, the nod becoming more pronounced as your conviction grows stronger.

“You’re so right.”

“I know,” Seulgi replies, again, to your mild irritation and amusement. “It’s one of my many charms.”

“Can you stop stroking your own ego for twelve minutes?” you chuckle with a roll of your eyes, and she pauses thoughtfully.

“Hey, Siri?” she calls out, pulling her phone from her back pocket. 

“Uh-huh?” her phone replies.

“Set a timer for twelve minutes.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” you snort, and she shakes her head.

“Your timer is set for twelve minutes.” Siri responds, and Seulgi locks her phone and places it back in her pocket.

“You’re not gonna thank her?” you ask, confused.

Seulgi shoots you another funny look. “She’s not real.”

“She’s real to me. And if the robots and technology ever revolt, don’t you want to be known as a human with manners? Maybe they’d spare you!”

Giving you a long, blank stare, Seulgi shakes her head and sighs. “I don’t know what goes on in your head sometimes.”

After Seulgi leaves to go take a hit on the terrace, you head down the hallway towards the kitchen for snacks, stopping shortly when you see a familiar figure sitting on the floor against the wall, knees tucked to her chest and resting her forehead against her knees.

“Winter?” you ask curiously, stepping closer. “Are you alright?”

She looks up at you with a bleary-eyed, weak smile. “Hey.”

“Hey…” you say carefully, trying to evaluate the situation and figure out what’s wrong. Did Haechan break up with her or something? Pushing aside the sick rush of excitement you felt after thinking that, you continue with, “Winter, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she mumbles tiredly, rubbing her temples. “I just have a raging headache.”

“Oh, no,” you hum, worried. “You want some painkillers? It’s ibuprofen, 600 milligrams. I use them for cramps and they work like a charm!”

“Yes, please, actually.” she agrees with relief written all over her face.

“Okay, come with me.” you say, gently taking her hand to help her to her feet. You let her lean on you slightly as you make your way to the kitchen to get her something to drink. “You know you have to eat something, too, right? You shouldn’t take it on an empty stomach.”

“Okay,” she sighs weakly. 

“Here, sit right here.” you guide her to a chair by the kitchen island and set about finding her a suitable snack. You give up on the junk food and decide to raid their fridge, finding just enough ingredients to make her a turkey, lettuce, and cheese sandwich. “You want mayonnaise on your sandwich?”

“Mm, no, thank you,” she says weakly, resting her head on the countertop. “It’s so much quieter in here.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine the booming bass being good for your headache.” you reply sympathetically, and she shakes her head gingerly.

“The music caused it,” she explains. “Sometimes I really hate parties.”

“Really?” you reply, slightly shocked, but then you pause to really think about it and realize she’s right; she rarely suggests going to parties, merely just tagging along when you all decide to go to one.

“Yeah, I prefer just relaxing at home, but I go because all of you guys go and Haechan…”

Your ears perk up. “Haechan…?”

“Haechan loves parties and hanging out. It’s so funny that he loves going out so much, but he always stays in with me when I ask him to. He’s so sweet.”

You think back to the tight-lipped smile he gave Winter when she asked him to take her home the evening you guys went to the museum, and wince internally. If he’s staying home, it’s definitely not by choice.

“You guys have fun together, huh?” you say bleakly, and she nods with a small smile.

“He’s so funny and I love laughing at how silly he is.” she gushes, and you set the plate with her sandwich down on the table, her head perking up. “Sometimes I wonder how we work so well in spite of our differences. Maybe it’s the ‘opposites attract’ phenomenon.”

“Well, what else is there? He’s a party animal and you’re a homebody.” you say, curious.

“He’s such a free spirit, and I’m… more grounded, I think. I think I keep his head from going too far in the clouds, y’know?” she says quietly around a mouthful of sandwich.

“I see, I see.” This is downright painful to hear for you, honestly, but you’re not sure if it hurts more that she has him and you don’t or that Winter’s oblivious to their incompatibility.

“And he’s more of a night owl, but I like waking up early, but he still wakes up early just to hang out with me,” she sighs dreamily, eyes focused on her sandwich and therefore completely missing the disbelieving look you shoot her way.

“So if he goes to bed late at night, and wakes up early to be with you… when does he get to rest?” you ask carefully, and Winter screws up her face thoughtfully.

“Huh. I never really thought about it like that.”

Of course you didn’t. Because you think of Haechan as some sort of prop or accessory you can equip whenever you feel like it. He’s a living, breathing human being that might not want to wake up early every time you feel like it.

You don’t say any of that, though.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. Not wanting to ruin the atmosphere, you continue with, “I mean, if those are all the differences you have, you guys could be pretty okay!”

“Well, then there’s the affection thing.” she says slowly, and you nod, already knowing where she’s going.

“If he’s too affectionate, like in public and stuff, you can try talking to him about it!” you suggest helpfully, but Winter looks at you in confusion.

“Too affectionate? Girl, he doesn’t even like holding my hand in public.” she chuckles hollowly, and you blink, stunned.

So you definitely did not know where she was going with her earlier statement.

“He’s… not… affectionate with you?” you ask slowly and carefully, and she shakes her head.

“He says PDA makes him feel weird.” she says with a shrug, and you blink at her again, baffled.

Nothing about that man gives “not affectionate” when he’s with you. As a matter of fact, you’re usually drowning in his affection, so for Winter to say he’s distant with her makes you feel… guilty? 

“Oh,” you mumble quietly, and that’s all you can really say for the moment. 

Winter, oblivious yet again to her emotional surroundings, sets down the crusts of the sandwich you prepared for her and sighs in relief. “I feel a little better already, actually!”

“That’s great!” you say, eager to change the topic. “Do you still want painkillers?”

“Yes, please.” she replies immediately, reaching her hand out. You fish out your little prescription bottle of painkillers and shake one into her hand, placing a glass of water on the table beside her plate. “You’re the best,” she compliments, relieved, and you shake your head to yourself in silent disagreement, the gesture unnoticed by Winter.

If only she knew.

Walking through the party, you soon run into the very person Haechan asked you to ignore tonight. You smile up at Jeno, who grins and pulls you closer to him as you two start to move to the beat of the song coming through the speakers.

Your hips sway together rhythmically and Jeno leans down to your ear, murmuring, “I was hoping I’d run into you.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why is that?” you hum curiously, resting your forearms on his chest and peering up at him.

“I always hope to see you,” he defends himself, and you raise an eyebrow skeptically.

“And we’re sure this has everything to do with that and nothing to do with you wanting me to see you tonight in your slutty little crop top?” you tease, and his cheeks redden as he shoots a bashful grin down to the floor.

“It’s not slutty!” he splutters defensively despite his laughter, and you shoot him an unimpressed blank stare.

“It’s a slutty, slutty top, Jeno,” you confirm, trailing one finger down from the space between his collarbones to where his stomach is revealed. “I didn’t even know you got down like that,” you confess, and his ears blush to match his cheeks.

“I don’t!” he squawks indignantly.

“Aw, man,” you sigh, feigning disappointment. “That’s a shame.” 

Jeno regards you carefully. “Why is that?”

“I was just gonna ask you how slutty you can get.” you murmur softly, looking up at him with a growing mischievous grin.

“Well, in that case,” he replies with a matching smile, “I can get pretty slutty.”

”Mm, yeah?” you muse, draping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. “Show me.”

As if he was waiting for the cue, he leans in and teases your lips apart with gentle grazes of his own, waiting until you’re at peak anticipation before surging forward and connecting your lips with a soft sigh of relief.

His lips move against yours eagerly, poorly restrained excitement practically vibrating through his body as he winds his arms around your lower back and draws you in closer, his warm, musky fragrance enveloping you. 

He presses kiss after kiss to your lips, obliging every time you chase after his lips for another one with a small fond chuckle and a quiet, content grunt. Jeno pulls back from the liplock with an air of reluctance, scanning your expression for a wordless confirmation before looking towards the back of the apartment.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Jeno offers, and you smile and nod, linking your fingers with his as he starts to lead you further into the apartment and farther away from the din of the party surrounding you.  

Leading you into the bathroom of his apartment, he shuts the door behind him and presses you up against it before kissing you again.

“You literally live here,” you giggle into the kiss. “Why are we in your bathroom and not your bedroom?”

“Long story short, Mark wants to get laid and his room is a mess, so he’s using mine.” Jeno explains, and you chuckle, nodding in understanding.

“You’re a good friend,” you say fondly, and he grins.

“I am?” he asks, and you nod, gasping when his hand slides down your front to between your thighs. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he says, his smile turning wolfish as he leans in closer, effectively pinning you against the wall as he kisses you deeply, teasing peeks and slips of his tongue into your mouth making you dizzy.

This time, when you pull back, it’s Jeno who chases your lips and captures them in another breath-stealing kiss. Every time you break the kiss to breathe, he’s on you a second later, barely giving you time to get any air—but when you’re thoroughly breathless and light-headed, he rests his forehead against yours as you both catch your breath, your chests heaving.

Jeno recovers faster than you do, moving and pressing kisses down your neck to your collarbones and back up while you play catch up. Unfortunately for you, each drag of his lips against your throat, each well-placed suck of skin and cheeky flick of the tongue only serves to make your breathing even more ragged, your eyes rolling back into your head as pleasure builds inside of you. 

Unable to wait any longer, you cup his face and tilt his head up towards yours to kiss him another time. He straightens up immediately and returns the kiss eagerly, pressing his hips into yours in excitement before pulling back. 

Your bodies move in sync, wordlessly on the same page as you both reach for the other’s clothing. Your movements are smooth and fluid as you unbuckle Jeno’s belt and unbutton his jeans, while Jeno’s are rough and jerky, the male haphazardly yanking at your pants until your button comes undone. 

His fingertips are cold and slightly calloused as he navigates past your underwear, stroking the seat of the garment before chuckling quietly.

“Already this wet for me?” His tone is a mix of curiosity and awe with a teasing lilt to it and his eyes twinkle when you nod, clutching at his arm with your free hand. “You’re unreal.”

“Jeno, touch me,” you urge plaintively, and he obliges instantly, middle finger circling your entrance before pushing in slowly. 

“God,” he groans in surprise, pulling his finger out and pushing it back in experimentally before establishing a rhythm that has you digging your nails into his arm for something to hold onto. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

You can’t bring yourself to reply, instead pushing your hand past his jeans and palming his length through his boxers, stroking from bottom to top diligently. He’s big, you note internally, suppressing a moan of anticipation when you feel the ridges of his cock through the teasingly thin fabric of his underwear.

Eager for more of your touch, Jeno leans into you, unintentionally pressing you against the sink so hard the counter digs into your back uncomfortably. He speeds up his motions between your legs, smoothly adding a second finger to assist in pumping in and out of your core, and you’re suddenly thankful Jeno’s body’s there to keep you standing, your knees on the verge of buckling from all the stimulation.

You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock—well, as far around as you can manage—and start to pump your fist up and down the length of his shaft. Jeno practically purrs in satisfaction, returning the favor by curling his fingers inside of you and stroking along your inner walls in search of your g-spot. 

He finds the small patch of nerves right around the time that you add your other hand into the mix, twisting and stroking him in opposite directions, both fists gliding up and down with the assistance of his pre-cum dripping from his tip.

“Careful, baby, you’re gonna make me cum,” he manages to get out through clenched teeth, and you shrug casually, blinking up at him intently.

“What’s so wrong with that, hm?” you tease, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong with that is that I have plans for you tonight, and cumming early does not fit in those plans.” Jeno explains with a tempting smile that makes you just want to lean in and kiss him.

So you do. As you kiss him, he speeds up his pace and uses the heel of his palm to massage your clit and it’s not long before you’re climaxing with a gasp of his name and an overwhelmed whimper that makes Jeno’s cock twitch in your hands.

He moves your hands away from his length with a surprising amount of restraint and replaces your hands with one of his own, slowly pumping up and down his shaft as he observes you with bright, intense eyes.

“Can I taste you?” His voice is raspy with desire but his words are clear as he meets your gaze with a hopeful expression.

“Y-Yeah—um, yes, you can.” you stammer, finding it hard to maintain your composure under his gaze; it’s a mix of adoration, lust, and keen fascination as he studies everything about you, eyes roving over you as studiously as if he intends to commit your… everything to memory.

He smiles at your nervous response, eyes shifting to crescent moons as he sinks to his knees. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he hums sweetly, looking up at you from his kneeling position. He helps you out of your underwear and jeans, draping your leg over his shoulder and shifting to get closer to you. “Gonna take care of you.”

He places a feather-light kiss to the hood of your clit, making you whimper quietly, and he gazes up at you, curiously studying your reactions as he spreads your folds with his index and middle fingers and drags his tongue up from your entrance to your clit.

A loud gasp escapes you, and your hand moves reflexively to the top of his head, fingers curling in his black locks of hair. He chuckles into your core, the sound sending pleasurable vibrations through your body before repeating the action, heavy-handed strokes of his tongue lashing at the underside of your sensitive clit as you squirm above him, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips closer into his face.

He reaches behind you and grabs your ass, hands gripping your cheeks firmly and pulling you as close to his mouth as he can manage. His tongue works at your core in an almost frenzy, lapping at you as if you’re all he’s ever wanted to taste. You shudder at the sensations, a low moan emerging from your chest involuntarily, and he echoes you, his groan of bliss garbled by the way his tongue swirls around your clit.

“Fuck, Jeno—feels so good,” you exhale shakily, eyes sliding shut in ecstasy as he devours you, arousal-smeared lips sucking and kissing at your folds and tongue flicking and swirling, dipping teasingly into your entrance. 

“You’re perfect,” he slurs against your folds, sucking them between his lips and running his tongue over them before releasing them and returning his attention to your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth and letting it slip from his lips with a lewd wet smacking noise. “So fucking perfect—”

“Jeno, please,” you whine, reaching between your legs with your free hand and spreading your folds, tugging the hooded flesh above your clit up to expose the sensitive button. “Right here—please—wanna cum so bad—”

His eyes flick up to yours, so wild and filled with desire that it takes you by surprise, and he growls in determination under his breath as he surges forward and lets loose on your poor, expectant clit, alternating between sucking hard, flicking it back and forth, swirling his tongue around it and, to your scandalized surprise, burying his face in your core, the tip and bridge of his nose bumping and massaging your clit.

“Fuck—” you hiss in surprise, the word ending in a desperate moan as he brings you to your climax, letting his tongue lie flat against your entrance as he moves his head up and down, guiding you into using the bridge of his nose to stimulate your clit. 

“Ride my face,” he instructs through a throaty grunt, and you eagerly oblige, humping against his face as you ride out your high, moaning and panting Jeno’s name repeatedly.

“Holy shit,” you whisper in shock as Jeno straightens up and licks his lips before starting to stroke himself with slow strokes, tightly curled fist fucking his thick shaft as he watches you with a smug grin and slightly wildened eyes.

“Turn around for me?” he offers, pointing his finger downwards and twirling it around, his gaze darkening when you do just that and turn to face the mirror above the sink. “That’s it, stick that cute little ass out for me.” he grunts, and you feel your cheeks flush with heat, averting your gaze from his through the mirror. 

He smooths a palm over your asscheek, kneading the flesh before mimicking the action on the other one. He positions himself behind you and pushes his length into you, hissing in delight as your walls flex and stretch to accommodate his size.

“Fuck, Jeno,” you moan out, and he chuckles, the sound more teasing and dark than you’ve ever heard him. It’s a new, definitely not unwelcome side to him that you’re seeing right now and the realization brings forth yet another wave of arousal and desire that travels through your body and slickens around his length.

“Feels good?” he groans, and you nod vehemently, rocking your hips back onto him. “Yeah, I know it feels good, you’re gushing all over my cock, princess.”

All you can muster up in response are pathetic whines and whimpers as he drives his length into you, and he snickers, pulling your head up so you’re looking into the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” he urges, voice strained from his desire. “How good you look taking me like this.” 

“Jeno—” you cry, feeling a myriad of emotions as you watch yourself in the mirror. You look fucked out, to say the least, pupils wide but lids heavy as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth. Your lipgloss is smeared around your mouth, which soon falls open as breathy pants and cries sound out from your kiss-swollen lips freely. 

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever fucking seen,” he moans through clenched teeth as he focuses his attention on drilling into you repeatedly. “That feels so good around my cock, baby, keep sucking me in like that—” The head of his cock fucks into your most sensitive spot along your inner walls and you lose all sensibility, grabbing at the sink to steady yourself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, fingers moving to rub your clit to help you reach your peak only to flinch away when you touch your sensitive clit and a jolt of something overtakes you. 

“Cum all over my cock, baby,” Jeno half-urges, half-pleads as your climax hits. 

So you do—hard. Your vision goes unfocused as you become acutely aware of the sound of your blood rushing through your ears and you can only let out weak moans and gasps as pleasure consumes you entirely.

Jeno’s throbbing length twitches inside of you as he pulls out and pushes in while your walls constrict around him, and his grip on your hips tightens as he begins to chase his own release.

“So good, baby,” he praises in a low, hushed murmur as he bites down on his bottom lip. “God, I need to cum—baby, where can I cum?”

“Inside,” you reply instantly, and he moans in delight, pushing into you all the way as he starts to cum.

“God, you’re amazing,” he breathes. “You want me to cum nice and deep in your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Uh-huh—” you sniffle plaintively, and he sucks in a sharp breath as he meets your gaze in the mirror.

“Fuck—it’s yours, baby—gonna give you all of it, princess—” he promises, staying true to his word and not pulling out until your walls have milked him dry. His eyes shut tightly and he breathes out loudly through his nose as his body goes tense and rigid for a moment.

As you two catch your breath, Jeno gently guides your jelly-like limbs up and around so you’re sitting on the sink counter and reaches up to hold your face, assessing your expression carefully.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly, and his endearing display of concern brings a small, bashful smile to your face. “Good?” he chuckles, and you give a nod of confirmation. “Good.” he murmurs, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer for a tight, warm, secure hug.

If you were a cat, you’re sure that you’d be purring loudly as he rubs soothing circles into the small of your back and presses light kisses to the shoulder he’s resting on.

After a moment, he releases you slowly, now sporting a shy smile of his own. “I could stay here with you all night,” he confesses quietly, and your own smile widens as you reach forward to take one of his hands in your own.

“I would like that,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warns you playfully. “Unfortunately, I think we should get out of this bathroom before someone finds out we’re in here.”

As soon as he reminds you of your circumstances, you can’t help but feel a sudden jolt of panic and think about your argument with Haechan.

“I suppose you’re right,” you sigh, frowning slightly, and he coos fondly at you, leaning in to kiss you softly. “I guess we should get ready, huh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and he steps back to help you off the counter, handing you your pants and underwear before busying himself with buttoning and zipping his pants. You get redressed quickly and quietly and he puts his hand on the doorknob, quickly squeezing your hand in a comforting gesture before releasing you and opening the door.

To your surprise, when you come out and make your way back to the party, it doesn’t seem like anyone caught onto your joint absence, making you think that maybe, just maybe you’ve gotten away with it.

That is, until Haechan corners you on your way back from the kitchen when the rest of your friends have slipped off to smoke. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” he scoffs, and you try your best to play dumb despite feeling caught—and guilty at that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, and he gives you the most unimpressed stare you’ve seen in a minute, making you blanch and look away in mild embarrassment.

“We’re gonna stand here and pretend that I don’t know what you look like after you’ve been fucked?” he says flatly, and you swallow thickly, realizing you probably can’t dodge the topic anymore.

“What exactly are you getting at, Haechan?” you huff, and he shoots you a wide-eyed, incredulous look.

“You had sex with Jeno.” He gets straight to the point and you wince internally before bracing yourself and meeting his gaze levelly.

“And?” 

“And you did it specifically after I asked you not to flirt with him tonight.”

“Who do you think you are to make any sort of request like that of me, though?” you counter, and to your surprise, his nerve falters visibly, his hand lifting to rub the back of his neck.

“I know we’re not together, but—”

“But nothing! Not only are we not together, but you’re together with someone else!” you whisper-shout, and his expression turns defensive.

“We’re not together,” he repeats, staring you down as if daring you to interrupt him again, “but you know good and well we’re not not together.”

“We’re not exclusive.” you point out. 

“You can slice and dice the anatomy of our relationship any way you want, okay?” Haechan says, exasperated. “But you know what you did was messed up. That’s why you pretended not to know what I was talking about.”

You hate that he’s right. “I don’t really want to talk about this right now,” you mutter, looking away.

“Oh, believe me. We’ll talk about it later.” he replies, the resolve in his voice more than a little intimidating.

“Great,” you say sarcastically. “Can I go now?”

“I don’t know why you asked. You’re just going to do what you want anyway.” he half-scoffs, half-chuckles, and you can’t help but smile slightly with satisfaction.

“Ring any bells?”

“No,” he replies as you turn to leave, leaning in so his lips are by your ear. “I don’t pretend to care what the other person thinks. I just do it.”

“I don’t pretend, I consider my options.” you reply defensively, turning your nose up haughtily before walking away.

“We’re gonna pretend that’s not worse?” Haechan calls after you incredulously, but you ignore him, rounding the corner and practically collapsing in relief when you see that Yunjin and Chaewon have returned from their smoke break, the two of them giggling together on the couch. 

They look up to see you and break into wide smiles, making space between them and reaching out to welcome you closer. 

“We are starving,” Chaewon complains when you plop between them on the couch. “We were thinking about getting food somewhere.”

“How about the diner? I could really go for a cheeseburger right now.” you suggest, and Yunjin’s eyes light up.

“Yes! I’ll see if everyone else wants to go… after I rest for a second.” she says, resting her head on your shoulder, and you hum sympathetically.

“What’s wrong? Why so sleepy?”

“I’m drained,” she complains. “I sucked in a Scooby snack earlier when I was hitting my bowl and I haven’t recovered from my coughing fit.”

“Dang…Toke-ahontas did you dirty, huh?” you say with a frown. 

“After all I’ve done for her!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “She’s ungrateful.”

“Yeah, she cost you about 100 aura points.” Chaewon nods sadly, and you and Yunjin look at each other then at her in confusion. “Aura points? It’s a TikTok thing!”

“You need to stop being so chronically online.” Yunjin says in a gently concerned voice. 

“Online is where the lesbians are,” Chaewon defends herself, and you snort.

“The online lesbians are filling your head with inane terms and thoughts.” you inform her.

Chaewon huffs, crossing her arms as her lip begins to tremble. “The online lesbians wouldn’t do that to me!” 

“Okay, they wouldn’t!” you switch up immediately to avoid actually upsetting her and you pull her into a hug. “The online lesbians love and care for you, they’re just a little silly.”

“Yeah!” she sniffles, resting her head on your chest. “My silly online lesbians.”

You and Yunjin share a look over Chaewon’s unsuspecting head before shaking your heads and smiling to yourselves.

“Back to you,” you say, refocusing on Yunjin. “You are so brave,” you say seriously, patting her hand gently, and she smiles up at you, chuckling slightly before starting to cough once more. “Poor thing.”

“If I die,” she rasps dramatically, “tell my boss I hate how complicated her coffee order is. It makes all the baristas hate me and then they think I’m the pretentious prick who orders several customized drinks for varied drinking pleasures.”

“Absolutely will do.” you nod resolutely. “If I can remember all those words.” Yunjin snickers before coughing again. “Good God.”

As you all enter the diner and head to your usual spots, you’re surprised when Jeno slips in front of Haechan and slides into the spot next to you. 

Haechan, it seems, is just as stunned as you are, if not more. Jeno sits close to you, his thigh pressing up against yours and his fingers lightly grazing at the top of your hand in a silent, nervous request.

You make eye contact with Haechan, who’s settled down beside Winter and is staring absolute daggers at an oblivious Jeno, and oblige Jeno’s request, turning your palm up to link your fingers with his. He jolts in surprise at the contact, definitely not expecting you to agree to it, but a shy, excited smile slowly curls his lips as he curls his fingers around yours, the gentle act of affection happening under the table away from prying eyes. 

You can’t help but notice that Jeno’s intent gaze is nothing short of adoring as he studies you, not letting go of your hand for even a moment. In fact, when the waitress comes with your menus, he seems to forget to release you, bringing your linked hands up from under the table to reach for his respective menu. 

Your eyes can’t help but dart to Haechan, who’s already staring at your intertwined fingers with an unreadable expression and a clenched jaw. He stares at your hands, then you, then Jeno, before snapping out of it a moment later to receive his menu from the waitress. You carefully extract your fingers from Jeno’s with a hint of embarrassment, averting your gaze from Haechan’s the whole time as you cover the gesture by fixing your hair, brushing it out of your face.

Conversation builds amongst you all gradually, your and Haechan’s unusual silence compensated for by Jeno’s unexpectedly bubbly contributions. You can’t help but look over at Haechan periodically, the subject of your attention pointedly staring down at his menu with his jaw set and brow furrowed.

You know that you two just had an argument, and neither of you owe each other anything… so why do you feel so wrong?

Jeno snaps you out of your thoughts when he slumps down to rest his head on your shoulder. It’s almost comical, the way that the larger male contorts his body just to place his head on you, but you can’t find it in you to be truly amused—not with the way Haechan pokes his tongue to the inside of his cheek in poorly concealed irritation.

“Hey, where’d you two disappear to, anyway?” Yunjin’s voice cuts through your internal spiraling, and you freeze at the sudden attention, blinking twice in a daze before meeting her curious gaze. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, feigning cluelessness. 

“At the party, girl! You and Jeno disappeared out of nowhere and showed up, like, an hour later.” As she speaks, you watch the realization set in, her eyes dropping to where Jeno’s head rests on your shoulder, lifting to study the content smile on his face, and finally meeting your shifty gaze. 

You’re less than surprised when she spares Haechan a surreptitious glance only to find him staring directly at you with a challenge burning in his eyes. 

Tell them where you were. He doesn’t need to say a word, evidently, because you look down at your hands in your lap, wanting so badly to feel comforted by the way Jeno’s thumb strokes the back of your hand yet feeling more alienated than ever.

“Oh, I lost my phone and she was helping me look for it.” Jeno’s voice pipes up as he covers for you, and you try not to visibly slump with relief. 

“Again? Jeno, you’re always losing your things.” Chaewon scolds. 

“Yeah, you’d better be careful before you lose something you can’t replace.” Haechan says in a low tone, words heavy with a warning and an unspoken threat that you’re sure has nothing to do with a cellphone.

Jeno notices it, too, unfortunately. Letting out a low whistle, Jeno sits up slightly and squares his shoulders as he stares back at Haechan. “What’s with the hostility? I’ve never lost anything I couldn’t—or didn’t—get back or replace.” 

“Yet.” Haechan mutters under his breath bitterly, and the air at the table seems to go stale as everyone freezes at the impending threat. Everyone, that is, except for the oh, so clueless Winter, whose response to her irate boyfriend’s remark is to loop her hand around his arm and look up at him questioningly.

“You okay, baby?” she asks, concerned, and he blinks back an almost imperceptible roll of his eyes before shifting his gaze to her with a tight-lipped smile. 

She brightens up at the sight of his smile, resting her head on his shoulder, leaving you to wonder how she could miss the absolute fire blazing in his eyes. You also feel the urge to swallow bile as you stare blankly at where her head meets his shoulder.

It hits you then, the realization finally sinking in, that you’re jealous of Winter, and your anger multiplies what feels like tenfold as you start to spiral, your mood worsening rapidly.

That is her boyfriend. He doesn’t belong to you. You don’t even want Haechan like that. 

 …Do you? 

“I’m fine. I’m just making sure Jeno’s more… responsible. Next time, he won’t be so lucky if someone gets to that phone before he does and doesn’t feel like giving it back.”

Once again, there’s a hidden meaning to his words, and everyone at the table apart from Jeno and Winter exchanges uncomfortable glances that all manage to flicker your way. Haechan slowly drags his gaze from Winter to you, his eyes dark and intense.

“Whoever finds it in the future probably already has a cellphone.” you counter, leveling his gaze. “A perfectly good one, at that. So what the hell would they want with his?”

Haechan chuckles humorlessly before shrugging casually and draping his arm around Winter’s shoulders, Winter leaning into his side eagerly. “Maybe they want an upgrade.”

“I have the iPhone 11 Pro,” Jeno remarks in confusion.

“Maybe they shouldn’t be so fucking greedy and appreciate the perfectly functional phone they already have before snatching other people’s phones.” you snap, and Haechan’s brows raise in surprise at that. 

“Greedy?” he starts to counter in disbelief, but Yunjin claps twice to get everyone’s attention, taking turns staring you and Haechan down with evident disapproval.

“That’s enough out of you both, actually. And where the hell is the waitress, anyway?” she desperately attempts to change the topic, leaving a tense atmosphere and a confused Jeno and Winter in the aftermath.

As Yunjin and Chaewon set about trying to get the attention of the waitress to take your orders, you and Haechan exchange fierce stares, neither of you backing down from the charged eye contact.

At the end of your meal, the tension at the table has only dissipated slightly, the burning embers of irritation kept alight by your frustrating inability to ignore the way Winter’s been hanging on Haechan’s arm and staring up at him with adoring eyes virtually all night.

Haechan looks up from his phone at you unexpectedly, catching you dead in the act of glaring at where his and Winter’s bodies meet. He raises his eyebrows almost imperceptibly, leaving you seething internally and cursing how attractive he is, before poking his tongue in his cheek and looking away with a growing smug grin.

You think for a moment that you’ll be fine, that you can get a handle on your emotions, but Winter sits up slightly to leave a flurry of kisses to Haechan’s cheek, making exaggerated smooching noises with every kiss, and you just about gag, tossing your napkin down on the table a bit too forcefully to play off as nothing.

“You alright?” Haechan asks slowly, knowing good and damn well that you’re not alright, that you couldn’t possibly be alright—

you got me some type of way ain’t used to feeling this way i do not know what to say but i know i shouldn’t think about it

“Yeah, I just lost my appetite.” you mumble bitterly, and Winter hums sympathetically.

“We can ask for a to-go box!” she offers helpfully, and you force a smile in her direction. “I’ll call the waitress.”

“As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna go home soon.” you say, trying with all your might to refrain from throwing a full-blown temper tantrum in the middle of your regular diner.

Jeno turns to observe you carefully, concern etched in his features. “Do you feel okay?” he asks worriedly, reaching up to place the back of his hand against your forehead. 

You note, with a shockingly sinister satisfaction, that Haechan visibly bristles at the contact between you and Jeno, the male across from you swallowing thickly before taking a small sip of the ice water in his cup.

“I feel okay, Jeno,” you assure him softly, and he relaxes slightly before removing his hand from your head and placing it on your thigh under the table, palm facing upwards in a silent request that you grant readily, lacing your fingers with his.

Now it’s Haechan’s turn to react, rolling his eyes and scoffing under his breath before raising his hand to flag down the waitress.

She arrives at your table shortly after he’s called her over and agrees to bring the checks and a couple of to-go containers, thanking you all for your patronage and bidding you a good night.

You try not to fling your card on the table with the utter desperation you feel to get out of there, but it lands a bit roughly anyway. 

Jeno picks up your card and hands it back to you, smiling sweetly before placing his card on top of both of your receipts.

You return his smile gratefully, blatantly ignoring the way Haechan’s staring at you both, and reach for your coat so you can leave.

You almost hate to say it, but seeing Winter all over Haechan tonight seems to have awakened something nasty, hateful, and bitter in you, and you think it’s in your best interest to make your escape before that something rears its ugly head.

By the time you and Yunjin get home, your mind is reeling and you feel absolutely restless.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” you mutter, shrugging off your coat and heading to your room. With every step closer to your room, you grow more frustrated by the situation.

You shut your door all too harshly, prompting you to open and close it again softer in a wordless apology, and toss your purse onto your bed before slowly starting to strip in the full length mirror by your vanity. 

took one fucking look at your face now i wanna know how you taste usually don’t give it away but you know i’m out here thinking ‘bout it

You’re down to your bra and nothing else before an idea strikes you and you’re leaping onto your bed and pulling your phone from your purse. 

Your fingers are moving before you even register it, your mind one step ahead of you as you press the phone icon next to the contact you’ve typed in and wait with bated breath.

then i realize she’s right there and i’m at home like, “damn, this ain’t fair”

The phone rings once, twice, and almost finishes the third before he picks up. “Hello?”

“Hi,” you say, a smile curling your lips.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, tone slightly curt, and it dawns on you that he most certainly isn’t happy with you at the moment. 

“Are you alone?” you murmur into the phone, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Haechan?” 

He mutters a curse under his breath, no doubt affected by the need in your voice, before he grunts in acknowledgement. 

break up with your girlfriend yeah, yeah, ‘cause i’m bored

“I need you,” you admit plainly, and he groans, the sound tempted and tortured all in one. “Come over?”

You hear him mutter an excuse—something about fresh air—and the background noises shift to an outside soundscape; cars driving by in the distance, the rush of night air, and, most importantly, Haechan’s deep breathing.

“You know I can’t do that.” he replies finally, his voice gruff, yet you can hear the strain in his voice, the desperation for you not to tempt him any further.

you could hit it in the morning yeah, yeah, like it’s yours

So you do. “But Haechan…” you trail off, and you hear him hum curiously, making you smile before you continue, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

The barely controlled breathing on the other line stops abruptly before a low swear sounds out. “You’re joking.”

“Come over and find out.”

i know it ain’t right but i don’t care

The line goes silent for a moment. It’s so silent, in fact, that you fear he’s hung up. However, a ragged inhale sounds out from the other end before he says, “I don’t care if you’re wearing them right now or not, but they’d better be off by the time I get there.”

“Oh, yeah?” you hum, rolling over onto your stomach with a triumphant grin. 

“Yeah,” he grunts. “I don’t need anything in my way.” 

“Copy that,” you say with a giggle, heading to your front door and making sure your spare key is where it usually is. “Our spare key is under the doormat.”

“Good girl,” he breathes before the line goes dead. Instantly, your body thrums with anticipation, the knowledge of your forbidden lover’s imminent arrival filling you with desire and excitement. You can barely wait, alternating between thrashing around on your bed eagerly and fixing up your appearance in your vanity mirror. You decide to throw on a sleep shirt so you’re not just lying there too bare; you feel embarrassed enough thinking about how close you were to begging him on the phone.

You’re thrown out of your excited little frenzy when your front door slams shut and rapid footsteps sound out towards your bedroom. 

The door swings open and Haechan freezes in the doorway at the sight of your frame laid on your bed clad only in a bra and large t-shirt, a deep groan sounding from his throat as he clutches the doorknob so hard his knuckles whiten. 

“You’re unreal,” he spits out through gritted teeth as he quickly makes his way to the bed. As soon as he’s close enough to touch you, he’s flinging your legs apart and slotting himself between them as he pulls you into a fierce kiss by the back of your neck. “Thought I told you I don’t want anything in my way, hm?”

“I’m not wearing anything,” you say through a shaky exhale that cuts off when his fingers prove you right as they circle your bare, already pulsing clit.

“Closing your legs counts.” he huffs, dipping his middle finger into your warmth teasingly. When you cry out, he chuckles under his breath before retracting his finger and tracing yet another teasing round of circles around your clit. “Want my pretty girl on display for me.”

“It is for you,” you whimper, clutching at his shirt to pull him closer. 

“You sure it’s not for Jeno?” he practically spits his friend’s name, and you almost wince from the disapproving tone of his voice.

“No,” you whine, drawing out the syllable to emphasize your point. “Only you.”

“You’re lucky I like you so fucking much.” he grunts against your lips, and you giggle mischievously. 

“Mm, yeah?” you muse softly, carding your fingers through his brown locks at the nape of his neck. “How much?”

“So much that I’m gonna ignore your bratty little attitude from earlier and give you what you want.” He pulls back from your lips and fixes you with a stare that dares you to contradict him, and you fall silent.

Satisfied, his fingers slide down your stomach over your shirt to slip between your legs once more, stroking and pinching and massaging your clit as you squirm and whimper under him. 

His gaze falls on your face, watching you intently as your features twitch and contort with the different pleasurable sensations he’s giving to you. Haechan pushes two digits into your clenching entrance, hissing when you mewl softly in pleasure and responding by curling his fingers up and starting to move them in and out inside of you.

The room is gradually filled with your panting, whimpering, and pleading as he pumps his fingers into you and he presses his lips to yours, momentarily silencing you as he swallows your moans with his heated kiss. 

“Good?” he breathes, and you nod, prompting him to smile against your lips before kissing down to your neck. “Need to hear you,” he reminds you, and you swallow thickly before speaking.

”Good,” you confirm breathlessly, and he chuckles. “So, so good—yes—fuck, right there—”

“Here?” he taunts, curling his fingers to fuck into the patch of nerves along your inner walls that made you cry out, and you nod vigorously, clutching at his arm tightly. 

“Exactly—please don’t stop,” you plead in a broken sob, and he coos affectionately, nipping at the thin skin of your neck. Swirling his tongue over your pulse point before pressing a soft smattering of kisses to the heated area, he keeps fucking you open with his fingers as he sucks just enough to make your head spin but not enough to leave any marks. “Haechan, I’m gonna cum—!”

“Good, baby,” he grunts, pulling away from your neck to study your face. His insistence to see you in such a vulnerable state makes heat rise to your cheeks and you turn your head to the side to avert your gaze. 

He shifts so he’s kneeling between your legs and brings his now free hand to your neck, cupping your jaw in his index and thumb fingers and turning your face back to his before adjusting his fingers to grip the side of your neck and keep you in place.

“Your pussy is so loud and wet, baby, you like this that much?” he’s teasing you without a doubt, but you can’t even protest, your climax so close you can practically taste it. “Cum, baby,” he urges through gritted teeth, “and keep those pretty eyes looking at me as you do.”

You oblige (not without difficulty) and lock eyes with Haechan right before your climax hits, your back arching off of the bed as your eyes screw shut. 

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers reverently, leaning over you to kiss you. “Like a little temptress.”

“I’m not,” you start to protest weakly, but as the pleasure courses through you, you can barely get the words out without them coming out as a pathetic whine. 

“You are,” he confirms as you finally start to come down from your high. “Dangerous as hell, too, and you know it.” He moves lower down your body, releasing your throat, and gazes up at you intently, waiting for you to lock eyes with him before he lets his tongue loll out of his mouth and wags it at you in a teasingly lewd gesture that makes you gasp.

Haechan presses a lingering kiss to just below the hem of your shirt, looking up at you before biting down on the fabric and dragging it up your torso until it’s bunched up above the swell of your breasts.

He shifts so he’s comfortably propped up beside you, one of his legs hooked around one of yours to prevent you from closing them, and he trails one glistening wet finger up from your pulsating core to travel across your stomach to stop right under the front center of your bra. He marvels at the shiny trail his finger left on your skin before dipping his head to drag his tongue up that exact path he just made. As his head moves up your body, his free hand pushes your bra up and over your breasts, granting himself free access to your chest.

He moans as he gropes your chest, kneading and squeezing the flesh between his fingers, and shifts closer to take your nipple into his mouth without warning.

You cry out in surprise and he chuckles around his mouthful of… well, you before pulling back just enough to grant you with the alluring visual of his full pink lips wrapped around your sensitive bud and his shiny wet tongue swirling around your raised flesh.

A shaky moan escapes you and he returns to sucking on your nipple, his tongue still unmistakably rolling around and over your bud even hidden away inside his mouth. 

Cupping your neglected breast with his free hand, he rolls your nipple between his index finger and thumb, tugging and flicking it to match the sensations he’s causing with his mouth. When he bites down, he pinches, and you whine in protest, squirming under him. The pressure is gone just as quickly as it was applied and he showers both breasts with kisses and gentle touches—you can’t quite tell if it’s an apology or a reward, but you’re not sure you mind.

“How are we feeling, baby?” he murmurs before swirling slow circles around your nipple with his tongue. 

“Good,” you breathe, and he grins, looking up at you before snaking his hand between your legs to touch your aching core. You breathe in sharply when his fingers brush your clit before dipping into you to explore your wetness.

“Fuck,” he mumbles in a daze, shifting down on the bed to get closer to where his fingers keep moving inside of you. “Feeling really good, aren’t you, baby?” His voice utterly fascinates you in its transparency; his tone is still lilting to tease you, but everything about his low, strained voice screams desperation to the point of ruin. 

“Let’s see if I can make you feel even better, yeah?” he moves further down the bed and between your legs, ducking his head down faster than you can collect yourself enough to warn him.

“Fuck—be careful, I’m sensitive—” you hiss, and he pulls away from your core, turning his head to kiss your inner thigh sweetly.

“I got you.” he assures you, and you practically melt into the mattress. 

His tongue finds the underside of your clit with ease, massaging the stiffened bud as a deep tremble runs through your body. Thick, wet, pink muscle swirls decadently around your clit, plush lips wrapping around to suck gently as you whine and rock your hips up and closer to his face.

He hooks his arms around your thighs, holding them open as he indulges himself in the taste of you. Flicking your bundle of nerves back and forth rapidly with the tip of his tongue slowly turns into long, heavy drags of his tongue flat against your core. With every rough lap at your clit, you jolt under his touch and struggle to remain in place as his tongue nestles between your folds to slurp at your slick entrance. 

His sounds are every bit as sinful as his tongue, desperate grunts and moans escaping him as he devours every last bit of you, and he sends you hurtling towards the edge unceremoniously when he pushes his tongue into you, letting the muscle fill you up to the best of its ability.

“God—” you hiss, and he chuckles, retracting his tongue from you (much to your dismay).

“You can take it, right?” he taunts softly, gazing up at you challengingly. “Of course you can, baby.” He pulls back slightly from your core to massage your lower thighs while leaving kisses all over the insides of your upper thighs. “You’re gonna take every bit of pleasure I give you, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you pant, scratching weakly at his scalp, “gonna take it all—”

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs adoringly, head returning to between your legs to resume his mind-scrambling combination of licking and sucking at your poor, hypersensitive core as you stumble closer and closer towards your climax.

“Mm—I’m gonna—fuck—cum, Haechan, stop—”

“Why would I stop?” Haechan replies with an amused scoff, lips still brushing your clit with every movement before he goes back to sucking, pulling his head back and letting your abused bud slip from between his lips. “You’re gonna give me everything I want, isn’t that right?”

“Ah—yes, yes, I am!” you agree hurriedly, desperate to reach your peak.

“Then give me those pretty moans and faces I like so much, hm?” he coos sweetly, finally coaxing you to your climax with his lips vibrating around your clit with every word. 

You cry out in ecstasy, eyes sliding shut as pleasure floods through your system, and his tongue is relentless against you, dipping into you to tease, swirling around, and licking at everything he can get his mouth on.

In the haze of your orgasm, your hand finds Haechan, the male linking his fingers with yours and placing your joined hands where your hip and thigh meet. He moves up to kiss you sweetly, lips locking intimately as the taste of your arousal swirls in both of your mouths. 

When he starts peppering kisses down lower, you wonder briefly what he’s up to before your eyes widen in realization as his movements become more determined and his path more clear in its ultimate destination.

“Hae–Haechan, what are you doing?” you complain, swatting at his head weakly, but he stops you with one hand, looping his fingers around your wrist and setting it down on the bed by your hips. 

“Trying to see if I could make you come again with my fingers and tongue.” he mutters distractedly before his tongue flicks the underside of your clit, making you jolt, and you immediately start squirming away even as he shifts to follow you, his fingers buried inside of you never once letting up in their relentless exploring of your walls.

“Please don’t,” you plead, and he shushes you sweetly.

“I know you can do it, baby—”

“I know I can, too! That’s not the problem,” you huff.

He raises both eyebrows in a silent cue for you to continue. “Then what’s the problem?” 

“Haechan, I can’t wait any longer.” you plead breathlessly, and he hums in understanding before pushing your legs wider apart and settling between them, watching you with fascination as he palms himself through his boxers.

“Is that right?” he asks, tilting his head to the side curiously, and you nod vehemently, reaching for his hips to pull him closer to you. You can feel the head of his cock pressing against your waiting entrance, anticipation thrumming in your veins. “Then I guess my pretty, spoiled baby shouldn’t have to wait any longer.” Without another word, he guides himself into you, hissing in pleasure as you cry out in relief.

He pulls out to the tip, rubbing it against your slick folds and collecting your arousal on his length before he pushes into you as deep as he can, letting out a groan of satisfaction as your walls clench around him, greedily sucking him in as far as possible.

He pulls one of your legs up so your calf rests on his shoulder and pushes two fingers past your lips, eyes darkening as he watches you suck them.

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” he says, pulling out halfway before sending his hips snapping into yours with a powerful thrust that makes you cry out in surprise, the sound garbled by his middle and ring fingers on your tongue. 

He starts to fuck into you roughly, his cock hitting places along your inner walls that have you seeing stars, and it’s all you can do to focus on the task of swirling your tongue around his fingers, drool already pooling beneath your tongue before slowly dripping down your chin.

“Messy baby,” he coos patronizingly, and you can only offer a scratchy moan in response, one of your hands moving to cup your breast and squeeze. “Were you jealous, baby? Hm?” he teases, and you can’t find it in you to lie, nodding your head emphatically as he pounds into you. “Yeah? You were?” He’s absolutely making fun of your irrational reaction earlier, and you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to—not with the way his length fills you up just right and hits all the right spots. 

“Feels—so good—” you moan around his fingers, and he pulls them from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting them to your bottom lip before he’s leaning forward and kissing you passionately, his tongue licking at the drool on your chin before pushing into your mouth and flicking at your own tongue playfully.

“Were you thinking about me stuffing my cock in someone that’s not you?” he pants, never relenting on his thrusts, and you nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer amount of pleasure flooding through your body. “It’d never be the same, baby,” he assures you, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “Your pussy squeezes my cock just fucking right,” he grunts, “and you’re so wet I could just slip right out of you.” 

At his words, you panic, clutching at him to pull him closer to you, making him snicker condescendingly. “No, don’t go—stay—stay with me, stay in me, I need you, please—” you babble, and his gaze darkens at the sound of your begging, lips parting slightly as he sucks in a sharp breath.

“No, you don’t want me to pull out, right?” he riles you up further, mocking the frantic way you shake your head no with a devilish grin on his face. “Want me nice and deep in this pretty pussy so you can cream all over my cock.”

“Haechan—” you gasp, almost entirely overwhelmed. “Haechan, I’m so cl—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he shushes you comfortingly, dare you say lovingly, his gentle words starkly contrasting the powerful way he drives his hips into you. “I got you. Go ahead and let go.”  

When your climax hits, you genuinely feel like you’re falling apart in the best way possible. Your whole body tenses, curling in on itself, wound up tight like a coil before the tension snaps and your muscles go slack from exhaustion, your mouth seemingly stuck open in a soundless gasp as ecstasy blooms all throughout your body.

Haechan watches you come undone with wild, adoring eyes, wetting his lips before meeting your lips in a heated, wet kiss made all the more sloppy by the fact that you can’t seem to move your mouth the way you want to in order to return his kisses. 

Desperate pants and whimpers fall from your parted lips as you messily move them against his mouth, cheeks warming with embarrassment at the sound of his amused chuckle.

“Am I fucking you that good, baby? You forgot how to kiss me back?” he taunts you breathlessly, and all you can do is nod pathetically, reaching for his face with trembling hands connected to arms that feel like jelly. He lets you cup his face, only slowing down his thrusts ever so slightly so you can properly kiss him back, Haechan humming contently into the kiss. When you two part, you feel a cool bead of your mixed saliva drip down from your no doubt swollen bottom lip, and he grins. “That’s more like it.”

He sits back upright and his hands cup under your thighs, caressing the flesh before moving your legs one at a time so your ankles are resting on his shoulders and his length is hitting spots that keep making fireworks go off in your vision. 

“Good like this?” he asks in a soft murmur, and you nod quickly, making him snicker fondly. “Eager, huh?”

“Feels so good, Haechan,” you moan, slurring your words slightly from all the pleasure. 

“Fuck, you sound so tempting.” he grunts, drilling his thick length into your core. “Keep talking, baby.”

You, quite frankly, do not know what the hell you’re about to say, given that your brain is a puddle of arousal right now, but you’d do damn near anything to keep Haechan inside of you at this point.

“Feels so full,” you whimper, clutching his forearm tightly. “So full—feels so good—fuck, right there!”

“Here, baby? Right here?” he’s absolutely taunting you, but you can tell by the tensing of his muscles and the hard, slow blink he gives that he’s nowhere near unaffected.

“Mm, yeah,” you sigh blissfully as your stomach starts to furl and unfurl in that familiar way. You reach up to cup your breasts, squeezing them and tugging on your nipples. You’re so lost in your own world of mind-numbing pleasure that it doesn’t even register that Haechan’s watching you until he nips at your ankle to get your attention. 

“Look at me, baby.” he orders gently, and you oblige (not without difficulty) as he watches you come undone. The final blow is when he reaches between your bodies to toy with your clit and you just about fall apart right there. “Hold it in for me, baby.”

“Wh–?” you splutter, baffled.

“Trust me, baby, it’s gonna feel so good in a second—”

“Haechan,” you interrupt, unable to take it for much longer as you reach up and cup his chin, pulling him closer to you. “Please—”

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I can’t say no to you.”

“Then don’t,” you practically cry, tears welling up from frustration and pleasure.

“My pretty girl wants to cum, yeah?” he grunts, and you nod, reaching to pull him closer.

“Want to cum with you, Haechan—you cum, too—” you manage to get out between gasps and moans, and his thrusts falter for a second as he looks down at you in poorly concealed surprise.

“Say that again,” he mumbles, and you feel the shift in the energy as he stares down at you with an expression suspiciously close to loving. “Please, baby, say it again?”

“Will you cum with me, Haechan?” you ask softly and hesitantly, suddenly feeling far too vulnerable from the request.

“You are so—” he mutters in awe, adoration twinkling in his hopeful eyes before he leans down to kiss you, this kiss far more slow and deliberate than you’re used to. “I can’t get enough of you—I’ll never get enough of you—” 

“Haechan, move, please—” you beg, and he seems to remember his situation, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly builds back up to the pace you were at previously. 

“Baby—” he hisses, his brow furrowing, “I’m close—gonna cum—”

“Me too,” you whine, digging your nails into his forearms and making him grit his teeth. “Cum inside?”

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he moans, burying his face in your neck before bringing two fingers to your clit to tease the bundle of nerves with rapid circles.

With languid, heated kisses being left all over your face, neck, and chest, and Haechan’s skilled fingers massaging your clit while his girthy length drags in and out of your clenching core, you climax with a deep shudder, your torso attempting to curl in on itself as he holds you firmly in place. True to your wishes, his hips stutter as he comes to bury himself inside of you and release into you, wet lips sucking at the flesh of your neck as he muffles his moan into your skin.

He drags his lips up a blazing path to meet your own, connecting them in a deep, slow, passionate kiss.

For a moment, you’re so entranced by his kisses that you think you might be able to cum again just from this.

His tongue strokes against yours, swirling and flicking sensually as he slowly ruts his hips against yours in smooth rolling motions that have you whimpering into the kiss and realizing that, yes, you very well might actually cum again just from this.

He pulls back to suck on your bottom lip before releasing it and meeting your gaze with a heady blend of lust and adoration swirling in his eyes, taking a moment to take in the sight of you in your unraveled state before leaning back in to kiss you once more.

“Haechan,” you manage to breathe between kisses, your voice pathetically whiny. He mimics your plaintive tone, humming in acknowledgement, and you cry out weakly, all too aware of the arousal collecting between your legs. “Gonna—wanna—wanna cum just like this,” you moan into his parted lips, and you feel him hesitate for half a second, his surprise practically tangible.

“Yeah, baby? You wanna cum just from my kissing?” he pants, voice unmistakably thick with desire. “Cum for me, baby.” His words are urgent but soft, filled with patience and a tenderness you can’t ignore.

You take over the pace of the movements, shifting to slot one of his legs between yours and rolling your hips up against his to send your bare core dragging up his thigh. A sharp hiss of surprise escapes you, followed by a sigh of relief when the friction is just right.

“My messy girl feels good, yeah? My pretty, messy baby wants to fuck my thigh? You’re so wet, baby, you’re gliding on me.” He leans down to murmur in your ear, that taunting lilt creeping back into his tone, but you haven’t forgotten the main event.

“Haechan, kiss me,” you whine, scratching at his back demandingly. He wastes no time in obliging, sealing his lips over yours with a content hum. Between the strokes of his tongue, the gentle sucking and kissing of his lips, and the friction his thigh is giving your poor clit, you’re coming undone yet again, this one a quiet, powerful climax that leaves your mind fuzzy and has you feeling like you’re on cloud nine. 

As soon as your climax subsides, Haechan is quick to pull up his boxers and take you into his arms, pulling you against his chest firmly and pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers soothingly. “You did so well, baby, I’m proud of you.”

You can’t even manage to mask your reaction to his praise, your face warming as you start to smile bashfully, and he chuckles, pressing kisses down from the top of your head to your forehead, the bridge of your nose, the tip, and finally connecting with your lips. 

“I’ll clean us up in a bit, just give me a minute to be with you.” he assures you, and warmth blooms in your chest at his words, a small nod all you can manage in reply as you look up at him curiously.

“You good?” you ask softly, fingers carefully trailing along his bare chest, and he chuckles quietly, nodding with certainty.

“Never better, actually.” he responds, and you hum in acknowledgement, your mind starting to wander back to the events that transpired earlier in the evening and you swallow in an attempt to moisten your now dry throat as you think back to what exactly got Haechan over to your apartment. 

“You know we’re gonna have to talk about it eventually,” Haechan pipes up, voice a throaty rumble, and you don’t need to look up to know he’s looking at you. 

Wordlessly, you shift so you’re on your side, one leg over his as you resume your delicate but purposeful stroking of his chest and torso. He’s still silent as he presumably waits for your response, and you decide to amp up your actions in an attempt to distract him, lightly dragging your fingernails down his stomach to tease at the waistband of his boxers. 

keep it one hundred, babe we both know i’m not the only one

“I know what you’re doing,” Haechan murmurs lowly, poorly attempting to conceal how affected he is.

but when i’m there, you treat a n**** real good and that’s probably why i always come

You hum softly in acknowledgement, continuing your movements, and blink up at him slowly. “Oh, yeah? What am I doing?”

“You’re distracting me,” he protests weakly, and you exhale quietly in amusement. “From being mad at you.”

“Do you want to be mad at me?” you sniffle, feigning hurt, and he chuckles before shaking his head slowly. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I need to express my feelings,” he groans when your manicured nails slip under the waistband of his boxers. “Get shit off my chest.” Completely contrary to his words, he tries to lift his hips subtly, urging your hand to move against him, and you snicker under your breath.

“You’re talking a lot but you’re literally guiding my hand into touching you.”

“Am not,” he says breathlessly, and you raise your eyebrows. 

“No?” you say softly, trailing your hand up his body to trace small circles around his navel that have him shuddering visibly. “So you don’t like this?”

“N-No,” he grunts quietly, his eyes traitorously sliding shut in bliss when you scrape your nails down to his boxers again. He, remarkably enough, refuses to meet your eyes, and you correctly deduce that this must be Haechan’s first attempt to lie to you.

“Then tell me to stop.” Your reply is simple, but he buffers nonetheless, mouth momentarily opening and closing not unlike a goldfish. “Haechan?”

“Yeah?” he moans—the poor thing couldn’t hold it any longer, you suppose. 

“Tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” You can’t help but admire his ability to be a brat until the bitter end.

“About your feelings, Haechan,” you drawl sarcastically, Haechan grunting softly before you continue, “I wanna know how you feel.”

“God, fuck,” he hisses when you dip your fingers lower than they’ve gone so far to stroke at the skin just above the base of his cock. “Feels good.” he slurs without thinking and you giggle when he freezes like he’s a deer caught in headlights. 

“What was that, Haechan?” you tease quietly, the tip of your nose trailing across his cheek as you move to kiss his jaw.

“It feels good,” he confesses, and you reward his honesty by wrapping your hand around the base of his length and starting to stroke him. It’s a mess of slick arousal and sweat mixed on his shaft and it’s difficult to maintain a good grip on him, but your actions are clearly appreciated with the way he twitches and grows to life in your hand.

Overwhelmed with the sudden pleasure, Haechan noses his way down to your neck to kiss and suck gently at the skin as a way to distract himself.

“Still want to talk about your feelings, Haechan?” you offer, and he takes a moment away from your neck to look up and glower at you.

“I want you to keep moving your hand,” he replies.

You pout. “But your feelings are important.”

“You’re so evil,” Haechan slurs slightly. “I love it.”

“How is it evil to want to discuss your feelings?” you ask curiously, attempting to sound as not guilty as possible.

“You know good and well all I’m thinking about now has nothing to do with that schmuck you tried to piss me off with earlier and everything to do with how you look and feel right now.”

You can’t help but snort in amusement. “Not you calling him a schmuck. Haechan, where’d you even learn that word?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“But do you know what that even means? How is Jeno a schmuck—?” 

Haechan growls under his breath, shifting smoothly to hover on top of you. “Not you repeatedly bringing him up when I’m clearly trying to get over it.”

“Shutting up now.” you nod resolutely, and he snickers, studying your expression with a fond smile before leaning down to kiss you. 

You’re not sure if it’s from his being so worked up or your building desire for him, but the kiss shifts the dynamic, Haechan rolling onto his side and urging you to do the same. You can feel the head of his length rhythmically pressing between where your thighs meet as he shamelessly ruts his hips against you and the realization makes between your legs warm, desire slicking your inner thighs. 

His tongue gliding past your parted lips draws forth a low whine from you as you let Haechan kiss you however he pleases, content with simply basking in the attention.

Finally growing satisfied with the amount of kisses he’s gotten, Haechan breaks the kiss with a surprisingly lewd, wet smacking noise and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, chuckling softly when you squirm. 

“Mm… what if I marked you up?” he mumbles, brushing his lips against your skin. “Fucked with that pretty skin of yours so everyone knows you’re taken?”

You scoff in surprise and amusement. “I’m taken? That’s bold of you, Haechan.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t like it,” he retorts, hand sliding up between your legs to tease the skin of your thighs just before your core. “Being mine.” His voice is muffled but his words ring out loud and clear, making you balk as you realize you’re more intrigued by the thought than you initially imagined.

You clear your throat softly before enunciating your next words carefully. “Is she an example of how you treat things you call yours?”

His fingers still and you feel the small warm puff of a sigh—whether it’s defeat or exasperation, you’re unsure—against your neck before he shifts to rest his elbow on the bed and his cheek in his palm. His fingers slowly resume their teasing strokes, dancing up closer to your folds, digits dragging along the wetness smeared on the insides of your thighs.

“She was never really mine, I don’t think.” he muses softly, and you snort, rolling your eyes.

“She’s like the perfect girlfriend.” you reply flatly.

“She’s too nice,” he argues back, and your features contort into confusion as you splutter in incredulity.

“You’re just making up shit!” you counter. “How is she too nice?”

“Hear me out, okay?” Haechan replies, an edge to his voice that leaves you silent and expecting his next words. “She doesn’t make me feel… special.”

“Okay…”

“She’s about as nice to me as she was in the beginning. I don’t feel like,” he pauses, swallowing as he chooses his next words, “she became any more endeared to me. I just got the Girlfriend Package with no upgrades down the line or anything.”

“If you want a real upgrade, you’d have to buy a ring.” You turn your head to look at him with your brows raised and a teasing grin.

“I’m not talking about wifely upgrades!” he clarifies immediately, and you can’t help but laugh. He watches you with a look dangerously close to adoration on his face before he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re really something.”

“I’m something?” you reply defensively, and he nods slowly, regarding you as if you’re stupid.

“Who called me over here at ass o’clock in the morning to fuck her because she didn’t like how touchy my girlfriend was being earlier?”

“Who came?” you retort, and he narrows his eyes.

“Who did all that before the cum of her last sexcapade had even finished drying inside of her?”

“Who had every chance to shut me down and tell me to move on, hm?”

“Your only rebuttal is that I came over?”

“You chose to come over.” you point out, sitting up to swing your leg over his hips and maneuver yourself into a sitting position on his thighs. 

“You used your friend with a sickeningly fat crush on you to make me jealous.”

“Well, you got jealous,” you remind him with a small smug grin. “With a whole girlfriend, too, Haechan—you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Okay, we’re both something.” he gives in, and you nod, dragging your nails down his chest slowly and relishing the hiss and groan that he lets out. “Now what?”

“What do you think?” you ask softly, your head cocked to the side curiously.

“Are you asking me to leave her for you?” he asks, and the careful way he utters the words makes your skin crawl as you realize that ultimately, that choice will have to happen one way or another.

“No,” you say finally, the word feeling strange on your tongue, almost bitter with deceit. “Just know that the day I ask you to choose between me or her, you will have officially gotten me royally fucked up.”

He snorts in amusement, his hands moving to caress your hips. “Royally, huh?”

“Astronomically.” you stress with a solemn nod. “Egregiously, even.”

“That’s pretty fucked up.” he notes with a growing smile. “Hopefully we don’t get to that point.” He brings one of his hands to yours on his chest and laces his fingers between yours, lifting your entwined hands to his mouth to kiss the heel of your palm and up your inner wrist, your forearm, the crook of your arm, all the while pulling you closer to his mouth, moving your bodies until he’s rolled you over and slotted himself between your legs, lips now exploring the bare flesh of your shoulders, neck, and jaw before slowly moving to kiss you. 

He kisses you like he’s savoring the moment, clutching the back of your neck and moving his lips against yours desperately, his tongue seeking solace in the wet warmth of your mouth as he groans lewdly into the kiss.

“Haechan,” you gasp for air when you two part, and he hums sweetly in acknowledgment. “You can’t be seriously going for another round right now.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” he replies, shrugging with a small smile. “For now, just be good and let me love on you, baby.”

So you do just that, readily supplying all the pretty moans he urges from your lips and rolling your hips against his wandering fingers as his erection slowly stirs and hardens against your thigh. Every once in a while, however, you can’t shake the growing feeling that everything may be going a bit too well right now—that is, until he pushes into you slowly and draws a gasp from you, your thoughts almost dissipating entirely.

You hope and wish with all your might that this bliss could remain for just a moment longer but you know all too well that good things like this never seem to last.

TA DA!!!!! i hope you enjoyed your read! the fifth part will be up in exactly one week! reminder that (only if you’re able) tips are very much appreciated, as is positive feedback! if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just shoot me an ask and please make sure your privacy settings are updated accordingly!

LINKS: KO-FI // VENMO // CASHAPP // AMAZON WISHLIST // (if you’d like to support via paypal, let me know off anon!!)

DON’T WANNA WAIT TO FINISH THE FIC? it’s available in its entirety on my patreon here!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—”  he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked. 

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

       Secret Admirer,

       I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

       Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

       I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

       Yours,

       Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

       ||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

       1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

       2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

       3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

       4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

       5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

       6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

       7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

       8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

       9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

       Eddie —

       I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

       I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

       I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

       Yours, Always,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. ���‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

PART 6

[vrystalius]

Can I request a sequel to Sanemi and the art teacher? I simply loved this ask, thank you for making me happy with your writing and kindness!

Dinner in his livingroom

Part two of Lunch in the teacher’s lounge <3

Pairing: teacher!Sanemi x teacher!reader

(Not proofread!!)

Sanemi has been eyeing you the whole movie, not even paying attention to it anymore. You made yourself look so pretty with your hair all done, make-up real nice and your outfit perfect. His hands were resting on his lap, grabbing a handful of popcorn every now and then, itching to move a little closer to yours. But that would be weird since you’re his co-worker. Right?

It was already evening when the movie ended, the air around you two cool and the sun already disappeared. “Damn, already this late?” Sanemi took his phone out and checked the time “Didn’t we want to grab a bite as well?” He turned his head to you and stuffed his phone back into his jean pocket, crossing his arms over his chest. You pouted a little. “Yeah, sorry. I guess not. Most of the restaurants should be closed now, I’m sorry. I should’ve planned this out more.” You genuinely seemed upset about not being able to go out with him. Sanemi was eyeing you up and down, silently admiring you. He groaned loudly and shook his thoughts off. “I uhh.. I’ve got food at home. We could cook something up. If ya wanna come over.” He scratched the back of his head while avoiding eye contact. Your eyes sparkled up in delight as you stepped a little closer. “Really? I’d be happy to! I hope you don’t mind.” You clasped your hands together and smiled brightly up at him. Sanemi nodded and gestured over to his car. “Let’s go then. Come.”

Sanemi’s home is actually quite cozy. He has lots of family pictures on the wall and well taken care of plants. Everything is clean and quite organised. While Sanemi grabbed the ingredients to cook, you quietly admired him. You noticed how broad his shoulders are, how muscular his forearms looked and those scars on his face are pulling his whole look together. If you didn’t knew any better, you’d think he was some kind of fighter before becoming a teacher.

“What are you staring at?” While you were admiring him from behind, Sanemi glanced over to you, catching your gaze. He lifted his eyebrow. “Sorry! Sorry. Just tired.” You quickly moved over to his side, washing your hands in the sink.

A small smirk grew on his face while you weren’t looking.

You never knew how good of a cook Sanemi was! He basically did everything for you, leaving you to just watch him cook the best meal you’ve ever seen and probably tasted. You sat across Sanemi as you dug into the beautifully prepared meal he had prepared for you. “Mmhh!” You hummed and smiled brightly. He glanced over at you as you did so. “Is it good?” “Yeah! Thank you so much for cooking for me! I never thought you’d be so nice to me.” Sanemi raised his eyebrow slightly and glanced at you. Sure, he has the reputation to be a little meaner and rude, but were you really this hesitant to talk to him? “You don’t know a lotta things about me, I guess.” You nodded. “I hope to get to know more things about you though, you seem pretty nice.” He nodded again while quietly eating his meal.

Sanemi would love to get to know you. The students and teachers adore you, and you’ve been nothing but nice to him so far, even if he was rougher and hasher with you.

“Let’s do this again sometime. I can cook for you again… only if you’d like.“

💠

I love teacher Sanemi so much… I kind of hc him as a smoker and that Genya and him love together, but my creative juices ran out and I was too lazy to write- perhaps another time if you all want! And thank YOU so much for your kindness!!

I just re-read Sanemi’s description as a teacher in the kny again, and apparently small kids cry when he gets too close.. poor Nemi.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[sirenstanfordpines]

Laid Up in Lavender

a stancest drabble for my dear friend @thegatewaydrug for photoshopping my pfp! the request was "some kinda pining/tension in the Stan O War II crated by their fucking constipated feelings for each other." Enjoy, bestie 💚

There’s a curl spiraling down the wrinkled slope of Stanley’s forehead, pinned beneath the wide brim of his red beanie. The coy coil of its end taps against Stan’s brow, jumping in time with the strong breeze whipping across The Stan-O’-War-II, forcing Stanley and Stanford to huddle beneath the same blanket as Stan lazily casts another line out into the Atlantic. 

Stan bats the curl away absentmindedly, but the capricious thing springs back into place as if he'd had never touched it at all, that red beanie holding it in place.  It does something strange to Ford’s stomach every day that Stan wakes up and pulls that particular hat on above all his others – and Pythagorus knows that Mabel has knitted Stan enough hats to outfit a small army. Correlation does not in any way, shape, or form equate to causation, Stanford Pines knows. 

So it’s rather strange to explain why his stomach flips every time he sees Stanley adorned in the same color as Ford’s sweater.  Ford’s color.

Stan shifts, shoving uselessly at his hair again as it dances closer to his eyes. “This damn mop is getting too long,” he grouses beneath his breath. “I'm going to get it cut at the next port, I swear.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Ford says automatically, then leans forward. “Here, let me.”  He is already reaching for his brother, moving quickly as soon as he has allowed himself to move at all like a magnet released from its holdings, flying to its opposite pole.

Gently, he coils the end of Stan’s curl around his finger, peeling the brim of his red, red, red beanie up just enough to tuck it inside. 

“Honestly, Stanley,” he huffs as he leans back, fingertips burning with the residual heat of him.  “You’d be a mess without me.”

“Gimme some credit here, Sixer,” Stan says, and his eyes are the sepia of a childhood memory, just as soft, just as fond, just as distant. He brushes his fingers against his own forehead, as if Ford’s touch, too, lingers like a brand.  “I’m a mess with you too.”

Stan has quit smoking sporadically, in fits around the holidays and his birthday and whenever he can’t stop that wheezing old man cough of his in the morning. He’d lasted the longest when the twins were around, but once they left, he’d scarcely made it a week before he was digging out one of his good Cuban cigars, eyes lidded in pleasure as the warmth crept into his chest. There’s always a point that his craving crests, that the itching beneath his skin writhes into a frenzy, that his legs bounce and fingers twitch and his mind is abuzz with all-consuming hunger. 

It’s so easy to light up, to breathe in, to let the snarling cravings turn to docile, purring urges.

Yet, when the smoke dies away, his hunger only grows.

Here, on the deck of the Stan-O’-War-II, he knows being with Ford again is just like that breaking point – dangerous and heady and addictive as a smoker’s first hit months after quitting. He never should’ve gotten a morsel. Now he just wants it more.

Stanley has never been good at denying himself, except for this one thing.  Because there is one, only one, thing he wants more than the warmth of Ford’s hand in his own, his lips moving against Stan’s, for that deep voice to rumble out “I love you” the same way that Stan means it – and that is his brother.  He wants Ford more than anything, and that means he will never have him, despite everything. Stan spent thirty years trying desperately to get his brother back; he will not survive another if he pushes him away now.

Stanley Pines is a consummate gambler.  He knows when to fold. 

“C’mon, Sixer,” he says, and reels the line in, no fish in sight.  It relaxes him, this time sitting, staring across the open ocean meditatively, Ford at his side.  What Ford gets from it, he has no idea.  “Sun’s about to go down.  Let’s see what we can rustle up, alright?”

Dinner is an affair of inside jokes, of thrilled speculation, of comfortable silence. Ford has had luxuries in his life. He’s met kings of distant galaxies, tried strange delicacies, eaten his fill and been offered more – he’s been sated, been delighted by culinary inquests.  He thinks, vaguely, as his brother throws his head back to laugh, the column of his throat stained silver with moonlight, that he would give each and every bite of those feasts up for a shitty can of reheated beans, so long as it was split with Stanley.

There’s only one bed.  It’s the oldest cliché in the God-damned book, and Stanley would know; he’s pretty sure he was around when the damn thing was written.  He’s not sure which one of them fabricated the bright idea, which one concocted the excuse, eyes averted and chest puffed and voice too-loud, too-cheerful, as if that would make the whole thing any less odd.  The result is the same: a queen sized bed – queen, something inside of Stan snorts derisively, remembering the ache of his arches after hours in heels – tucked away modestly in the corner of their too-drafty cabin, as if they can both forget what it means if they don’t have to look at it directly.

It’s a small ship.  There’s only so many places they can look. 

Mabel had certainly been delighted by the discovery, squealing and making kissy faces through bouts of laughter after she spotted it over their shoulders over Skype. They’d explained it away to her just as they’d done to each other at the beginning, in overlapping babble, noises of “saving space” and “maximizing efficiency” and “keeping an eye out”. For their own ears, thrillingly, Stanford had muttered fast and quick, as if he just couldn’t help it, “might be nice.”

Their bedtime routine has turned into a well-choreographed dance – one of those complicated, whirling, achingly structured promenades straight out of The Duchess Approves. Ford twirls, facing the wall, as Stan tugs his shirt over his head. Stan bows low to avoid looking as Ford emerges from the shower, water still clinging to the hair on his chest. It’s the sort of dance where the partners orbit each other, mirrored in their steps and turners, rises and falls, close enough to feel but not to touch. Never, ever, ever, to touch. It’s not the sort of thing done in polite company, after all, not without a family-ruining scandal. Stanley has caused enough of those for a lifetime.

So he half-steps and turns, just on cue, and his eyes do not linger on Ford’s thighs peeking out from his worn-soft sleep shorts. They waltz around each other one-two-three as they fold into the bed – Stan with his back to the wall, Ford with easy access to the door, to escape. 

The dance concludes. There is no rapturous applause, although Stan feels he deserves it for being so damn normal about the whole thing, circumstances considered. 

“Good night, Stanley,” Ford says, instead of I'm sorry I’ve done all this. “Sleep well,” he says, instead of I love you. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, instead of how is it possible to miss you when you’re less than a foot away?

“‘Night, Sixer,” Stan says, instead of I’m sorry I’m like this. “I‘m kicking you if you snore again,” he says, instead of I love you. “Don’t let the bugs bite,” he says, instead of how can you not see I love you?

There’s a little lie Stan tells himself, to stay sane.  Well, more than one if he’s (rarely) being honest.  He lies to himself about his feeble charm, he lies to himself about how Ford’s eyes linger on him because shit, what if he’s wrong, he lies to himself about how much his back (and knees and shoulders and fuck, everything) hurts. And every night, laying there, staring across the impossible space of four inches between himself and Ford, he lies to himself and says tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be the day he finally, finally says something. 

And then he rolls over and faces the warped ceiling of the Stan O’ War II with a wry grin.  Nah, he thinks. Probably not. 

But there’s a maybe hidden there somewhere, the sliver of a real possibility, a lock he could pick to the future he’s always wanted, and that maybe keeps him going.  He falls asleep like that, unsurpassable four inches away from his brother, and neither knows that they’re dreaming of the exact same impossible thing: eleven fingers, intertwined in the light of day. 

They get up with the sun the next morning. It’s achingly cold out, and when Stanley tugs on his red beanie, a trapped curl spirals down the wrinkled slope of his forehead. 

[passivenovember]

Sharing again!

--

mirrorball

--

“You’re irate,” Robin says. 

And Steve can’t pretend that he knows the definition or that somewhere, past the churning noise of the party, and the wafting heat from the dancefloor, Steve has the slightest clue what to say other than, “Probably.”

Because in all the months he’s known her, if Robin says he’s irate then he probably is.

Steve wants to go home. He’s been over this scene for a while now, holding an empty red cup so no one asks him if he’s up for seconds and thirds. His eyes sting from the smoke. He’s never liked that about parties that don’t rage under his jurisdiction. 

If they were home right now, cutting the night away at Steve’s house, he’d tell them to take it outside. Not everyone’s a smoker. Not everyone wants to die early from nicotine poison, at least not from something as insignificant as second-hand smoke. 

But these are Tommy’s digs. And apparently, anything goes, here. People smoke and drink and fuck right out in the open, probably depositing colonies of lost children on the shag carpet underfoot, and Steve’s had enough. 

“This is really bothering you, huh?” Robin asks. 

“What are you talking about?”

On the other side of the room, past a string of holographic flowers cut from cellophane that dangles in Steve’s line of sight, Billy’s got a kaleidoscope of color dancing on his eyelashes and he’s standing really close to a guy with pretty hair.

That’s all Steve can clock about him.

His hair is nice. Long and brown and curly. 

And Steve’s been told a million times by his grandma that he’s got more to offer than a head of thick, Italian locks but with only a red cup and Robin’s fifty-cent words tethering him to this basement, Steve isn’t so sure. 

Robin knocks their shoulders together. “Billy,” She says. 

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from Billy’s eyelashes. “Where?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” Steve snaps. “I just don’t see him.”

As if on cue, Billy steps closer to the guy. Gets right in the crook of his neck 'cause either. He knows Steve is watching or he’s trapped in his own little world.

Steve can’t figure out which is worse. Serving as the gasoline that fuels Billy’s night and earning a front-row seat to whatever happens next or being locked out. Forgotten. 

A sliver of perfect, golden skin peek-a-boos between the hem of Billy’s slashed Metallica tank top and a pair of leather pants Steve’s never seen before. Not in this basement. Not in his entire life.

He knows instantly he wants to see them trapped around Billy’s thighs. And on his bedroom floor. And melting, coughing up smoke until they’re memory when brownie-locks tugs Billy closer by his belt loop.

Steve crumples his red cup. “Let’s go,” He says. 

Again, Steve’s legs don’t move. 

“You should talk to him,” Robin says. “You should do something before–”

“Billy’s not going to fuck him,” Steve tells the shag carpet. He looks at Robin, and peers into her red-rimmed, pitying green eyes, because. “Right?”

She’s probably worried.

She’s probably tearing her hair down from its edgy updo in fear that their very own ray of Californian sunshine is going home with a stranger tonight. 

Robin’s lips disappear between her teeth, “I don’t know,” She says honestly. 

Robin cherry-picks her words. It’s such a contrast to the way Steve bulldozes his way through grand statements and sweeping apologies. It’s comforting. He hangs on her every expression to know he’s not crazy. He tracks the way she stares past those goddamn cellophane flowers until her eyes get big.

Robin glances over, cheeks red as speeding firetrucks even in the shitty light of this shitty fucking basement.

“What?” Steve demands, and he stares at the horizon to find, that. 

Billy and his Motley Crue knockoff have disappeared.

Steve sucks in a sharp, desperate breath. 

“Steve,” Robin says. 

He can’t feel his toes. He knew this would happen. He should’ve told Billy he loved him when he had the chance, and now.

Robin rubs his knee. 

“Maybe they just. Got swallowed by the wallpaper, or something.” And Steve sounds almost believable. He almost believes it himself, you know? Because how could his entire sex life have gone up in smoke in the last thirty-six hours? It doesn’t make a lick of sense. He was inside Billy Hargrove thirty-eight hours ago, and now--

The room might as well be empty.

“This is such bullshit,” Steve shakes his head. “He better wear a condom.”

Robin snorts, “You really think Billy’s gonna top?” Her fingers snake around Steve’s shoulder blades, rubbing at the knot of muscles in the side of his neck. “You can’t let it get to you, Harrington.”

Steve has to swallow the immediate desire to protect his shoddy, half-assed fortress of Cool Guy that has been falling apart, brick by brick, since the first time Billy sported hickeys on his neck in the shape of Steve’s mouth and told him that this meant nothing.

Steve wants to bury his face in his hands. 

He wants to pull his hair out by the root and scream and scream and never stop screaming until finally Billy admits that this is love.

That they’re in love with each other.

Whatever that looks like. Forgetting the condom, maybe.

Robin rocks their shoulders together. “Do you want another drink?”

Steve wants that, too. 

He hands his cup over, instead, “I’m going out for a smoke,” Steve mumbles, because even though Tommy’s parents have money and could replace it no-problem, he still pretends to respect the wallpaper he knows Mrs. Hagan chose special.

--

Billy only lets Eddie get his hands under his shirt because Steve’s watching. 

Only. Steve misses it, because he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. He’s too busy talking to Robin, and it’s fucked up that the cocktail of vodka and cheap dope has Billy jealous about that, too. 

Like it’s not enough that he's consumed by jealous hatred of Steve’s sweater for draping itself over him all day, but Billy’s gotta drag his favorite lesbian into this. 

Nothing is holy, anymore.

The angry, love-drunk, pissed-off part of himself whispers that Steve and Robin are going home with each other tonight, even though Billy knows that means hideous fleece pajamas and no grabby hands.

It doesn’t matter.

Eddie scrapes a nail over Billy’s nipple and Billy thinks he’s gotta get even. 

If Steve is going to sit on that fucking couch and uphold their agreement that this means nothing, Billy’s going to fuck this stranger.

Done deal.

So Steve looks away and Billy tugs Eddie’s hand to his waist to get his mind off the mole on Steve’s cheek. 

“Got a condom?” He slurs. He’s fucked up. Can’t even stand straight without the wall or this guy propping him up. 

Eddie detaches himself from Billy’s neck, and. “A condom?” He asks, not understanding.

Even in Tommy’s shitty basement, he’s got nice eyes. 

Big and brown and kind, like Steve’s, but. He’s not Steve. 

That could be good, right? Billy could work with that. “You don’t wanna fuck me?” He bitches. Hurt, maybe.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, I do it’s just,” He catches Billy when he stumbles and puts him back on the wall like Billy’s mom used to do with loose paintings when Neil pushed her into them. “Shit, darlin’, you’re drunk.”

It’s kind of hilarious. 

Billy snorts. Knows if Steve heard him he’d say Billy’s cute, and Billy wants to go home. Not to Cherry Lane, but to Steve. He wants to live there forever, and Max could come, too.

“I am drunk,” Billy admits. He leans forward, wetting his mouth and grinning when this poor country idiot can’t help but zero in on the shine. “I’m real easy when I’m sloshed.”

“I don’t know–”

“C’mon, Harrington says I open up nice when I’m blackout.”

Eddie blinks at him. Straightens his spine, all noble, so he can stare down his button-snout at Billy to demand, “He fucks you when you can’t stop him?”

Like he knows Steve.

Like he knows them like Billy’s his mom and he needs to be rescued.

It pisses him off. Gets his dick to lay flat, for once, and Billy’s fucking tired. “Oh, like you were about to?” Eddies cheeks flare. Billy waddles forward. Says, “I don’t even know you. Stop acting like you know shit about shit because you don’t.” Because. “I love him,” Billy adds, “I’m in love with him because he deserves it.”

Eddie sucks his teeth, “Oh yeah?”

“Maybe.”

“That him over there?” And Eddie jerks a thumb over his left shoulder. Steve’s watching them, cool as a fucking cucumber, and that does something to Billy. 

Makes him look at the situation from outside of it. 

Like, he just offered to fuck this guy, this random dude, and Steve doesn’t even care. And he’s not stupid. Likes to pretend he is, though, and that’s worse. He may be having a grand old time over there with Robs, lounging like a king on the same couch Tommy fucked Billy on last summer, but he knows.

He’s gotta know. 

Billy shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” He gasps. 

It’s not Eddie’s fault. 

He’s a nice guy. He’s been sweet all night, asking about music and movies and books and only touching when Billy begs him for it. 

Eddie’s baby browns get big. He says, “There’s nothing wrong with you, sugar, people act crazy when they’re in love.” He pushes the hair off Billy’s forehead, looking sweet and concerned, “Do you wanna go outside, maybe? Get some fresh air?”

Across the room, Steve isn’t even watching them, anymore. 

He’s lost interest.

Maybe he never had it in the first place. And it stings. 

Strangely, Billy doesn’t feel like drawing blood when Eddie leaks kindness. He offers his hand and Billy is too drunk to do anything other than take it.

--

Billy’s edges are sharp enough to cut. 

The truth, though, is that Steve likes it. Every drop of venom tastes like gin burning down his throat, hungry for more because it leads to Billy.

Truth is, Steve sees through it. He’s been close enough to that incendiary spirit on dark midnights to notice the fireflies that gather for warmth around the hearth of it all. And the reality that Billy would even let him get close enough for danger to  flash red against Steve’s skin in the first place--

Maybe that’s one of the things Steve likes most. Even if it hurts, sometimes, there will always be proof that Billy was there. And that for a moment, their edges had fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

Maybe it’s just the beer talking, but Steve can’t let him go.

So Steve busts out of Tommy’s shitty basement, ready to tear springy brown curls from the scalp of that handsome, flirting stranger, when he steps into a puddle of rainwater, instead.

His skin is on fire. The shock of cold puts things into perspective, Steve’s chest opening like a summer tulip to the enormity of the universe.

There’s a calm spring mist, settling like diamonds across his skin. The Earth smells forgotten. Like for years and years, someone took the fabric of the city and rolled it up and stored it away, and now it’s free again. Resting, moth eaten and threadbare, against the backdrop of Steve’s shitty fucking night. Steve’s awful realization, that. 

He loves Billy. Earth-shattering.

And Billy’s going to fuck someone else. Apocalyptic. 

And even if Billy doesn’t make brownie-locks wear a condom, Steve will sit by his bedroom window all night just in case Billy decides that it means nothing, too. Just like them.

“Goddammit,” Steve hops out of the puddle a minute too late.

There’s water in his sock, squishing like fresh mud between his toes. He imagines being home. Warm and showered with a full belly, dozing in front of the fireplace. In Steve’s daydream, he’s naked from the waist down while Billy pushes and pulls his leg hair and calls him colonizer shit spawn for having a marble hearth in his living room. 

It doesn’t sting. Nothing hurts because in Steve’s fantasy, they belong to each other. Every impossible summit has been scaled and they’ve sidestepped waterlogged potholes to get to the truth. Their relationship means something. Everything.

Steve’s heart shudders, reality eclipsing the moon until everything's so bright he catches on fire. 

He stalks to the side-fence, peering into the watery darkness for a shock of American-made blue.

Billy’s car is nowhere to be found. 

And historic, champagne-pink revelations aside, Steve fishes around for his pack of smokes and refuses to admit that he’s out here to kill the guy who wants to get Billy’s mouth on him.

Steve would lose, probably. He’s fucked up. This probably isn’t healthy.

He wonders if Billy would plan his funeral. If he’d cry for him and swear off guys forever and visit Steve’s grave every morning with a hard on. 

Steve hopes so.

He’s embarrassed, to the very root of him. He needs a light.

So Steve bites the butt of his cigarette and pads around the yard, trying to find someone with a matchbox. The Earth is beautiful. Mrs. Hagan is an excellent gardener. All around, bushels of lilacs and marigolds are set to bloom. He studies the fullness of each blossom, eyes tracking the deep green of their clinging branches. 

It’s not even April yet and they’re thriving. That’s just the expert of Mrs. Hagan. She’s a smart girl, she knows how to nurture difficult saplings through hardships and winter months with careful hands, and--

Relationships are kind of like that, people have said.

Someone said that, once. Right?

Steve almost drops his cigarette. He yanks a handful of marigolds from the soil. They come up with their roots still attached.

That's gotta mean something. Bad poetry that feels like the ‘acknowledgements,’ page in one of those books his mom is always reading. Chicken Soup for the Soul. He imagines what Billy would say about this revelation after he’s chewed on it for a while.

Steve pets over the bleeding roots of his bouquet. He's never had gentle fingers. He tries to, with Billy and with everything else, but it always lands a little crooked. 

If Billy knew how hard Steve was trying, he’d probably call him an asshole. Chew on his thumbnail and ask how it is that Steve can read minds, all of a sudden, if Billy didn’t teach him. Because Billy taught him everything he knows, apparently. How to skateboard, how to bake pies from scratch, and how to fuck. 

Which flowers are his favorite.

--

Billy’s nails are sharp enough to pierce the skin. 

He’s never tried to do it on purpose, but he always manages, somehow. 

It’s raining. And Eddie’s hand is soft and warm and his fingertips are calloused just enough that when Billy nearly falls on his ass trying to side-step the tasteful rocks in Tommy’s side-yard, Eddie’s got traction to steady him.

“Nails are fucking sharp,” Eddie says. But he’s smiling.

There’s no shit, in that grin. He’s not aiming to eat Billy’s heart and soul or anything else. Nothing at all like Steve. Billy doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Not like I need to worry about keeping ‘em short,” Billy grins back, sighing in relief when Tommy’s parents had the good sense to invest in picnic furniture, “I’m not a top. I was, until Harrington--”

“I think if you say his name one more time he’ll appear,” Eddie teases, “Like Beetlejuice.”

Billy flops onto a sun lounger. “Think I’m gonna be sick,”

Overhead the stars vibrate, undulating until it feels like God is trying to hack and slash his way through the dark night sky to get at Hawkins. 

“Do you want me to run and grab--” Eddie pauses, staring around the yard with exaggerated care, “Harring--”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Told ya,” Eddie grins, “Beetlejuice.” 

And maybe it’s just the vodka talking, but Billy’s stomach is stuffed with butterfly hearts when this dumb, sweet, beautiful boy smiles at him.

Eddie perches at the base of the lounger. His boots plant themselves on the ground, nice and respectful, so if someone were to see them they might think Eddie was aiming to rescue Billy from alcohol poisoning right before he calls him a slur and takes off, cackling into the night.

He won’t, though. Eddie’s a nice person and even if he wasn’t, Billy knows when a guy’s caught.

Kid’s been watching him all night. Even now, Eddie peers through a curtain of springy curls, baby browns flitting all over Billy’s face and catching on the things Steve likes best about him, probably. His cum-gutter lashes and dick sucking lips--

“You eyes are really blue,” Eddie squints and slides closer, all, “Like, creepy blue.”

It’s written all over his face. Hook and line, blind with hope for things Billy could only ever give to Steve. "Creepy?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, full of wonder.

“Well fuck off, then,” Billy snaps. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“You’re not a baby, and I’m just sitting, alright?” Eddie's silver-lined fingers rise to pat around his vest. Billy squares his jaw when he pulls away with an unsheathed cigarette. “I’m smoking,” Eddie tells him, “Just sittin’ down until I can get the cherry sparked.”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Probably.”

“It’s annoying,” Billy shakes his head, staring out at the trees that line the Hagan’s side-yard, a hop and a skip to the neighbor's place. “You’re a good guy. Why are you so good?”

“’M not good,” Eddie admits softly. “You’re just. You’re fucking gorgeous, alright? And if you don’t wanna go home with me, I gotta keep you safe until the Prince can get to you.”

Billy’s eyes snap, heated, to Eddie’s grinning face. “This isn’t a fairytale,” He says. Because it isn’t.

But Eddie looks so hopeful. 

His eyes melt like chocolate kisses. 

“No, but it could be,” Eddie scoots a little bit closer, hand falling to rest on Billy’s knee, fingers slipping along leather. “Can I ask you something, gorgeous?”

“I’m not gorgeous,” Billy snaps. When Eddie grins again, Billy’s face warms. Hot as the sun. “Spit it out, Munson.”

“Why are you in love with him?”

“I’m not in love--”

“Billy.”

He’s uncomfortable, like this. A bug under a microscope so he’s gotta show his stinger and scare kindness away.

But Eddie’s too dumb to notice.

A thousand words bubble and rise like champagne at the back of Billy’s throat, each one fizzing out before it can shuffle past his teeth. All of them will land like fists. Split skin and draw blood, so.

Billy shakes his head. Settles on, “He’s not what I expected.”

“Yeah, but why him? I could be different than what you expected. I mean--”  Eddie’s fingers dance along Billy’s thigh. Touching but not quite, at the same time. Making his skin dance. “I already am, right?”

Billy shivers. 

“Yeah,” He admits. It burns like alcohol on open wounds to say out loud.

But the thing is-- 

“Steve’s different than you. Than everyone. He’s sweeter and brighter than anyone I’ve ever met. Event though it took forever to get there. He’s got layers. He’s not what you’d expect, because. He’s got this big fucking house, right? And it’s full of shit. Name-brand poptarts and every vinyl you could imagine and all his blankets are soft enough that they’re probably lost clouds, or something. And even when I’m with him, like. Even after we fuck and Steve gets what he wants from me, he always asks if I’m hungry. And he doesn’t believe it when I say that I’m full. That I’ve gotta jet. He cooks really good pasta. He sings. He’s got a good voice, and he puts my name in the song, sometimes. He lets me eat in bed and he plays with my hair while I fall asleep, and. That’s the biggest thing for me, you know?”

Eddie’s fingers wrap, like warm summer vines, around his own.

“I don’t sleep good anywhere. I get cagey, ‘cause of my old man. I’m always on alert. There was a while, last summer, where I slept with my shoes on. ‘S why I’m such a bitch all the time, I’m fucking exhausted, but with Steve,” Billy’s shaking. He’s gonna vibrate out of his skin. “Steve is my home town. He’s home, on a Saturday morning. I’ve never felt safe with anyone else.”

Billy’s going to cry.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Eddie doesn’t notice. And if he does notice, Eddie refuses to care. His eyes are intent on Billy’s face when Billy admits--

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie tells him, “It’s alright.”

“Vodka turns me into a chatty bitch. I’ve never told anybody that, before,”

Eddie’s thumb strokes soft over Billy’s palm. “The stuff about Steve, or--”

“Any of it,” Billy looks up, caught in waves of warm, sweet brown. He sniffs, suddenly more nervous than he’s ever been in his entire life. “If you fuckin' yap to anybody about this, Munson--”

Eddie’s smile is like the setting sun. “Put your teeth away, baby, I’ll take it to my grave.”

Billy opens his mouth to say thank you. To admit that this night, for all the good and bad and embarrassing, has made everything feel easier. 

Eddie seems to hear it. To feel it in his bones.

He kisses the back of Billy’s hand, lips sliding warm and soft along Billy’s thumb, to the pad of each finger. 

Billy’s heart hammers, unsteadily in his chest, when those lips press lewd, against his palm.

“Eddie,” Billy mumbles, sounding frail even to his own ears. “Eddie, I--”

--

A bomb goes off. 

Steve thinks the sky might as well be full of mushroom clouds because war’s waged when brownie-locks takes all of Steve’s knuckles across the bridge of his nose.

Steve’s not left handed.

The punch, it’s. It’s awkward and more force than anything else, and it hurts like hell. Something’s probably broken.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, same time Billy’s new boyfriend says, “Shit,” and Billy puts both of his calloused, strong, stocky, perfect fists on Steve’s chest to shove him back.

Steve goes easy, because he deserves it. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this. 

But. He’s seeing red, and he’s gotta know. “Billy--”

Billy looks like he wants to kill him, and he could. Steve would let it happen. He thinks about sinking to his knees right here, dropping the marigolds, begging to get his speech out before the light goes out in the sky forever.

Steve’s still got the unlit cigarette in his mouth. A bouquet in his hands. He takes it out. Drops the flowers. Steps closer and says, “Billy, did he kiss you?”

Because he has to know.

Billy stares at the marigold petals in fear. They're coiled snakes. They're the end of the world. “You’re drunk,” Billy says, same time his new boyfriend bolts upright and fucking cackles. 

“Harrington, huh?” Brownie-locks spits on the ground. It’s red. Steve tries not to feel proud. “Really are Beetlejuice, man.”

Steve ignores the boyfriend. He stares at Billy and tells the truth, “I am drunk. So are you.”

Billy doesn’t look at all like Steve imagined, now that his anger’s planted itself on brownie-lock’s face. 

Billy’s shaking. 

He’s got tears clinging to his lashes, and Steve knows everything’s his fault and he wants to die for that, but all the guilt in the world doesn’t stop him from turning on Billy’s new boyfriend and taking a step forward when brownie-locks says, “I wanted to fuck him until you came along.”

At least someone answers Steve’s question.

He feels a little bit like throwing up and a lot like going for round two. Turning this guy’s face to hamburger meat, but. 

Billy gets between them.

And he’s vibrating.

And no matter what they’re dealing with or how much they’re refusing to talk about, Steve never wants to be the reason Billy can’t hold still.

Regardless, Steve scoffs. “You’re seriously protecting this guy? From me?” 

He’s furious.

He’s so hurt and bleeding inside and angry--

“Go home, Steve,” Billy mutters. He’s not shaking anymore. He stands his ground, looking every bit like an avenging angel, and.

Steve loves him. He’s proud of him, but. “You don’t want me.” The words sound wrong. Garbled and stretched out.

The boyfriend stand ramrod straight all of a sudden, like, “Wait, that’s it?” And he looks so confused.

Hurt, even.

And that pisses Steve off, you know. Gets him feeling brave.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it,’” Steve paces forward, stopping only because Billy tacks a soft, warm hand to the center of his chest. “Are you really asking to get your dick knocked off, freak?”

Billy’s boyfriend laughs, “God, you’re so pretty and so, so fucking stupid.”

Steve knows. About the second part. So he rolls his neck and says, “Why are you still here?” Because--

Billy gets in front of him. He looks so beautiful, with moonlight painting his curls more bronze than gold. And his lashes are clumped together. “Why?” Steve asks again, because he has to know.

And suddenly it’s like everyone runs out of words.

They stare at him. Billy’s boyfriend rocks a little on each foot, eventually peering at the ground like there’s no place he’d rather be than nestled under it. "What's the with the flowers?" He asks.

The longer they ignore him, the more Steve’s set on digging the guy a hole in the ground. Burying him and leaving the marigolds there as a memory.

Steve’s losing his mind.

He’s going crazy, he--

“Why is this guy here with you, Billy?” Steve demands.

Billy stares at him, pretty pink mouth open. His palm is so warm on Steve’s chest, it’s like a sun spot. 

“Why do you want him here and not me?” Steve grabs that hand. Holds onto it, says, “Do you love him?” 

Billy bares his teeth. “Does it matter?”

“Billy,” Steve whispers. “Are you--of course. Of course it matters, you. You have to know, that--”

And he’s grateful to Billy’s boyfriend for not laughing at the way his voice, fucking. 

Cracks.

Bleeds.

Steve takes a deep breath. Tries again. “You’ve gotta know, right?”

And.

Apparently not.

Billy blinks at the stars, blue like the ocean set to spill. He takes his time. Gets his feet under him. Eventually, Billy bares his fangs and stares right through Steve’s skull. 

“Thought I meant nothing to you, Harrington,” Billy says.

And Steve dies.

He might as well not even exist. He might as well be a window. 

“Thought you just wanted me because I’m a warm place to slide into a night,” Billy rumbles, and. 

Steve. He’s never had teeth pulled when he could feel it. He’s never snapped a bone in half. He’s never seen God, either, but. 

He imagines it would all feel the same when he finally has the courage to say--

“I was just following your lead,” Steve’s so embarrassed. And ashamed. He can’t believe he made Billy feel like that, like a figment. 

It hurts worse than any pain he could conjure for himself, so.

"I. I mean, I picked marigolds for you, baby." Steve toes the edge of the cliff. “I love you," He tries, and. 

Falling feels a lot like flying, apparently.

Billy’s boyfriend disappears. Steve considers it a sign that even though Billy won’t look at him, he hasn’t pulled his hand away, yet.

[melonteee]

I find Garp’s inclusion in the LA fascinating because so many issues with the series can be traced directly back to him.

Arlong’s presence and the climax of his own arc getting cut short, despite introducing him earlier to be an overarching threat? All the screen time that would’ve been Arlong’s was given to Garp. Sanji getting sidelined? Because the Baratie now had to be about Luffy’s granddaddy issues with Garp. Zoro’s fight with Mihawk feeling rushed and underwhelming and then giving a second pledge to Luffy that kinda goes against the spirit of Zoro’s character? Because the show used a good chunk of that time to have Luffy make Zoro’s loss about his relationship with Garp. Usopp getting sidelined? Time was given to Koby on a side quest given to him by Garp. The stakes in Luffy’s fight with Arlong? Undercut in rewatches (or if you know the source material) because you know Garp is waiting somewhere off-screen so there’s no tension about the fate of Arlong Park if Luffy fails. Flashbacks of the main characters’ pasts being often being rushed, undercooked, or weirdly placed in the story? Garp. Hell, he even has an effect on the immediate future arcs because Smoker’s subplot about unraveling the mystery behind the Baroque Works (and then discovering the main reason Crocodile got so close to succeeding was because his superiors were asleep at the wheel) is contradicted by both Garp and Morgan knowing about the Baroque Works already.

Garp’s a walking talking cock-up cascade of a B-plot.

The funniest thing is Garp literally ruined the shot composition of Roger’s execution. Garp standing there on the execution platform with Roger genuinely ruins the blocking of the actors and pulls away from Roger BEING CENTRED and taking EVERYONE’S attention in the world…by making us look at Garp instead. He stands out like a sore thumb.

If that isn’t a metaphor for how absolutely piss poor Garp’s inclusion was, I don’t know what is. Gee Netflix maybe you should’ve listened to the original creator, you know? The man who WROTE and CREATED THE STORY for 25 ONGOING YEARS? Crazy.

[forever1kay]

HIII I DON'T KNOW IF YOU STILL DO REQUESTS BUT- It you do, may you write this pls🤭

Miles morales x male! Reader who he meets at a school trip? The reader is very sarcastic or chill? (Reader has a personality that's like Mai from ATLA!)

The reader is like famous for their voice and guitar and art skills (brrrr) so when miles met reader he started to get interested in em so he follows reader whenever they go while on a school trip ✨

<3 ignore if you seem uncomfortable with this, lob youuuu

(I've requested to you before ;) )

Summary: Reader and Miles finally confess after years of dancing around each other. But first, let’s go back into where it all started…

Pairing: Miles Morales x M!Reader

Notes: I know exactly who this is. I apologize for not doing this sooner. I know you requested this months ago and I’ve been slacking off. I hope this makes up for it :) I did kinda diverge away from the request a little and went more so towards the direction of your previous requests. I hope that’s okay!

Warnings: Reader is probably more sassy than stoic tbh, Miles is very much aggravating in some of these, Miles and reader were born early 2005 (or late 2004, up to you), mentions of school, graduation, reader is a smoker (not really), Soulja Boy, Nick and Charlie slander, slow burn relationship. Let me know if I forgot anything!

The Ten Times You and Miles Danced Around Your Feelings

I. Taravella Playground - EST. 2008

A red and blue flash from a small size 4 shoe piques Miles' interest as he lazily glances up from his position in the middle of the sandbox. Miles looks up from the intruder's feet to their face after noticing how he’d wordlessly been staring for a while, but the boy's scowl leaves Miles feeling horribly disappointed (and afraid, might I add). He wasn't prepared for such hostility from a fellow Spider-Man fan—not that he knew what hostility meant anyway—but he was sure the expression on the boy’s face would haunt him for many lifetimes. Nevertheless, Miles made an effort to introduce himself and be sociable.

“Hi, I’m Miles.” He says with an apprehensive yet polite smile.

“I’m Y/N.” The boy responds, detaching his shovel from his bucket before settling down on the boards that surrounded the sandbox.

Miles searches his small brain for a conversation starter—not that there were many in there to begin with—and decides on a topic that he’s confident he can discuss without tripping over his words. His favorite hero. Spider-Man.

But, apparently, he asked a question that was entirely too obvious.

“Do you like Spider-Man?”

Y/n looks down at his own shirt and shoes then looks back at Miles, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Miles sighs and gives Y/n a mostly toothless grin before returning his attention to his bucket. "I wanted to be sure.” He says. “I like Spider-Man too, you know.”

“Good for you.” Y/n replies, looking slightly agitated and mildly uninterested.

Suddenly, Miles wants to go home.

———

II. Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade - EST. 2009

Y/n shakes his head as he watches a small figure run through a large crowd at the parade. He made the decision to turn his head away and pretend he hadn't seen anything, but the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, staring up at the sky.

His mom had forced him out to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, and he was less than thrilled. He tried to avoid it, but wasn’t given much of a choice. Saying as he was under his parents’ rule and wasn’t yet allowed to make his own decisions.

But, after this less than pleasant experience, he knew he should’ve pushed harder to stay home. This kind of stuff wouldn't happen indoors.

“Oops, sorry!” The culprit said with an annoyingly recognizable voice.

It was Miles, the Spider-Man fan who Y/n had to (painfully)endure seeing each Thursday evening in the park.

"Oh, it’s you," Y/n deadpanned. "I knew it."

Y/n sat up, and Miles reached out to help him up. But Y/n quietly declined and stood up for himself.

Miles opened his mouth to speak, but he was suddenly grabbed and placed on the shoulders of a lanky bald man wearing the coolest shoes Y/n had ever seen.

“Sorry about that, little man.” The bald man spoke while lowering himself to Y/n's level. “My little nephew can be a bit much at times.”

"I know him, Uncle Aaron!" Miles informed his uncle, pointing his finger directly in front of Y/n’s face.

Y/n looks at his finger and shakes his head no, slowly lowering Miles’ hand.

“He bothers me at the park.”

"That's not true!"

Aaron looked at Y/n who nodded rapidly, providing a counter argument—or in this case, action—to Miles’ statement.

Standing to his full height, Aaron chuckles, "It's okay little man. You’ll grow to love him.”

Aaron then turns to Y/n's teenage brother, Leon, who was standing next to him silently watching the events unfold.

"I'm sorry my nephew accidentally knocked your brother over."

Leon shrugs. “My dog does it all the time. It isn't anything new.”

Aaron chuckles. "Well, you gentlemen, have an amazing rest of your day."

And as they walked back to wherever they came from, Miles waved to Y/n.

—————

III. Briarwood vs. Montgomery Elementary school field day - EST. 2011

Miles thought Y/n looked silly, watching him emerge from the bathroom wearing a shirt ten times bigger than the one he’d just been wearing. Not too long ago, he’d been pushed fell into ice water when the kids were all instructed to go and grab a juice of their choice from the overly large cooler under the Pavillon.

Today, Miles’ and Y/n’s school were having a field day. It was supposed to be a competition, but it turned into a lot of fun when the kids from both schools started to become friends with each other.

That was cool with Miles, until his his best friend TJ suddenly took interest in playing with Y/n’s best friend Kaiden. This wouldn’t have been an issue if the teachers didn’t say to pick a buddy and stick with them. Miles would walk away if he could. But since he couldn’t, he found himself face to face with his worst enemy while his best friend and his worst enemy’s best friend had their own conversation.

“I know you pushed me into the cooler, Miles.”

“No, I didn't.” Miles promptly refuted. “You’re lying.”

“No, I'm not,” Y/n countered. "Because Toby told me, and Toby never lies."

“Well, maybe you don't know Toby as well as you think.”

Y/n took a breath, seemingly in an effort to calm himself down. “If Toby said he seen you push me in the ice box, it’s true.”

“Toby is a liar.”

Suddenly, everyone in the area gasped, never expecting to hear the truthful Toby labelled a liar.

You could have heard a pin drop in the absolute silence. Or, in this instance, swift footsteps and small but powerful hands pushing past a crowd.

“…’Scuse me, 'Scuse me, 'Scuse me.." Toby finally finds himself in front, face to face with his accuser. "You calling me a liar?"

"Um.." Miles freezes. "N-no, no. Of course I'm not.”

"Yes you are." Toby countered, "I heard you when I was over there with Emily"

“That wasn’t me.”

“…So, like I said.” Toby repeats. “You calling me a liar?”

The whole crowd of grade schoolers started to ooh at the interaction. Quite frankly, Miles is terrified. But his Uncle Aaron always told him it’s best to stand his ground.

“So what if I did call you a liar?”

Miles is given a blank look by Toby before he suddenly lunges at him, grabs his shirt forcefully, and yells at him.

“I am NOT a liar! My grandma told me I’m a good boy and I believe her! Take it back right now, squiggles!”

Squiggles?

“Fellas, fellas!” Miles’ friend Harry butted in, pulling them apart.

“I’m sorry.” Toby said. “I lost control.”

“That’s fine, but I think I know how to fix this.”

Less than two minutes later, Harry had them in court—whatever that means—and all Miles could wonder was where is my teacher?

Harry clears his throat and begins to talk, but is shortly interrupted by his friend (and sidekick), Walter. “We are gathered here today because- wait, what? Oh, sorry that’s for a wedding. ORDER IN THE COURT!”

Let’s just say, Miles pleaded guilty to pushing Y/n into the cooler that afternoon and was given a stern talking to by his best friends when they made it back to their school.

————

IV. Brooklyn Museum - EST. 2012

“Alright, kids! Single file, single file!” Miles’ teacher yelled as the students piled off the bus.

Today, Miles’ elementary school—along with seemingly every other elementary school in the district—have taken a trip to the local museum.

In all honesty, Miles would have preferred to stay at home, but he had no choice. Particularly because when they returned to school, he was given an exhibit to write about. Everyone takes advantage of the opportunity for a free grade!

When all of the children exited the bus, the chaperones divided the single group into smaller groups. Miles voluntarily zoned out for a moment while his group waited patiently for the final few groups to form.

He forced a smile on his face and gave himself a mental pep talk to try and convince himself that this will have a positive outcome. Surprisingly, it was working. But little did he know…

MEANWHILE…

“ALRIGHT, MONTGOMERY!”

“ALRIGHT, MS. BROWN!”

Ms Brown explains that the students will be placed into groups, and must pick a buddy within their groups. They must stay with their buddy and near their chaperones. You know, the usual.

“Do I make myself clear?” Ms Brown asks after the brief explanation.

“Yes Ms. Brown!” The kids reply.

“Alright!” She smiles, grabbing the roster from her seat. “If I call your name, you are in Mr. Kyle’s group!”

Today, Y/n’s school—along with every other elementary school in kings county—were being forced to go on a trip to a children’s museum.

The idea of visiting a museum made Y/n anxious. He had never visited this museum before and had no idea what to expect. For the record, he was expecting dinosaur fossils because, well, he's deathly afraid of dinosaurs. That would be kept a secret from others. Think about how people would respond if the cool, chill Y/N Y/L/N admitted to having a fear of dinosaurs. Y/n doesn't know and never hopes to find out.

Realistically, he could have just dropped the form in a puddle, let his dog eat it, or "forgotten" to get it signed, but his teacher made it his mission to let Y/n's parents know about the trip before the school day was over.

Thanks a lot, Mr. Kyle.

Y/n made the mistake of looking around as the kids, who have now been divided into groups, pile haphazardly off of the yellow school bus.

Unfortunately, Miles also made the same decision at the same time and the two boys unavoidably made eye contact.

Could this day get any worse?

—————-

V. Brooklyn Medical - EST. 2014

Y/n emerges from room 212 with a group of friends and a relaxed look on his face. If people didn't know any better, they would believe that he killed someone right here in the hospital and had no problem with it. But in all honesty, he was on his way back from a visit with his cousin TJ.

In an attempt to skateboard with Y/n and his friends, TJ broke his arm. But if you asked TJ to explain to an adult what happened, he rolled down a hill. Both boys were not yet allowed to ride a skateboard, especially not without an adult present or the necessary equipment, but he wanted to protect his cousin and himself, so blaming the hill seemed like the best course of action.

For Y/n, TJ was always like a breath of fresh air; he was different from the people he hung out with at school, from the people in his area, and even from his immediate family. He thought TJ understood him completely, and he never once thought he needed to disown him. Aside from perhaps the now, when he realizes that TJ is still in fact friends with one Miles Morales.

“Miles?” Y/n speaks softly, surprised, squinting to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. Y/n’s friends leave almost immediately upon seeing Miles’ face.

“Oh hey, Y/n!” Mike’s replied. "I heard that TJ fractured his arm because of you. Disappointed, but not surprised.”

“Actually, it isn’t my fault this time.” Y/n shrugs. "Why are you here anyway?"

“Because TJ is my best friend,” Miles said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Really? He said that he dropped you.”

“Nope.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You never do.” Reaching out to Y/n, Miles says while extending his hand. "Allow me to show you something."

“You don’t need to sound so professional.” Y/n responds under his breath, choosing to ignore the tingling sensation Miles' touch had given him in his hand.

“Sorry.” Miles responded, pulling him toward the front desk to ask for TJ’s room number.

“Where are we going, Morales?” Y/n asked, growing tired of being pulled around.

“To ask which room TJ is in.”

“212.” Y/n curtly responds, nodding his head toward TJ's room.

Miles reads the signs and guides himself and Y/n in the direction of room 212. After finding the room, Miles peaks his head in the doorway and tells Y/n to stay put, to which the boy responds, "I'm not a dog."

“TJ!” Miles yells excitedly, walking into TJ’s room.

“HEY MILES!” TJ yells back, hugging Miles with his left hand because his right one was damaged by the skateboard.

“Your cast is so cool!” Miles yells. “Can I sign it?”

TJ goes to respond when he notices movement at the door.

“Wow,” Y/n lets out an exaggerated sigh, walking into TJ’s hospital room. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“I told him to leave, he wouldn’t leave.” TJ lies terribly. “You’ve gotta believe me.”

“I don’t.” Y/n shrugs before receiving a text message and looking down to see what it said. “My mom asked if you guys want Wendy’s.”

Miles says no to be polite and TJ basically asked for the whole menu. In the end, he ended up with a 4 piece and a frosty. Y/n got a Fanta.

About time Y/n’s parents arrived with the food (and also to retrieve their kid), Y/n despised Miles a little less. Not that he’d ever find that out though.

——————-

VI. Yankee’s Game - EST. 2016

Everyone in the audience holds their breath, sat uncomfortably on the edge of their seat. The Yankees had been behind the entire game, and it's the ninth inning. Jeter had sprained his foot during the sixth, and the Yankees only had about three star players left.

In the hope that his wish come true, Y/n bowed his head and closed his eyes as he began to pray to all the gods and Santa Claus that there’d be a miracle.

He looked up when he heard the crowd cheering, but a fugly red and blue tie-dye shirt sadly blocked his view.

Y/n’s eye twitched and he took a breath to keep his composure, then trailed his vision upwards.

Miles Morales was the perpetrator once again.

“Do you ever go home?” Y/n questions. "Why are you always where I am?"

Miles shrugs and sits stiffly in the empty seat next to Y/n side eyeing him nervously a few times.

“So… how is the the weather?

Y/n gives him a quick blink before returning to the activity.

This is gonna be a really long final inning.

_____

VII. Brooklyn Bridge - EST. 2017

On the trip home from the movie theater, Miles is startled from his nap long blink by a loud "Oh my God, what is that?!" from a few rows behind. Select schools in their county were forced to watch a Nat Geo documentary about Brazilian native animals. Naturally, due to his lack of sleep after staying up late having a solo dance party for quite a bit of the night, Miles slept through it.

However, his dazed state was short-lived as he heard his friend Steven screaming in panic.

"Bro, there's something chasing the fucking bus!"

“Hey! It's crucial that you all keep your composure and refrain from speaking in the same way that Steven did!” Screamed his teacher, Mrs. Nance. “We will all be fine!"

Then, out of nowhere, came a loud thud that landed atop the bus, as if danger itself had been listening in on their conversation.

Mrs. Nance contradicted her statement. "Holy shit, we're all going to die!"

With little explanation and in a hurry, Miles hastily pulled out his phone and texted his parents about the issue. This worried his poor mother, who hurriedly left work and hopped in her car to come get her son.

Miles made the decision to say a quick prayer because they were all genuinely convinced they were only two seconds from dying.

He was about to say amen when a nasty knock on his window forcibly interrupted him. Even though the person who caused it fell, the source of the sound stuck.

There was a web. A very familiar-looking web that Miles was all too familiar with.

"Spider-Man is here!"

As soon as they realized they could be saved, everyone hurried to Miles' side of the bus in joy, but the happiness didn't last long.

A tentacle instantly grabbed Spidey's neck, ripping his mask off his face in the process.

“Welp, nothing to see here! That kids dead.”

Everyone returned to their seats, but Miles remained transfixed.

The face seemed oddly familiar. If only Miles could connect the dots, then-

Miles gasped. "Is that Y/n?"

———-

VII. Brooklyn Visions Academy Valentine’s Day Dance - EST. 2018

“Can you at least smile?” Y/n’s friend Melissa asks him, randomly slapping his forehead to illicit some type of energetic response.

“Yeah, I got you when we’re walking in. We can put on a show for all your pristine rich people friends.”

Melissa rolls her eyes and speaks sarcastically. “That’s the spirit.”

Y/n chuckles for a second until the car comes to a stop in front of the drop off for the dance.

“You mind going in without me? I’ll be in eventually.”

“I don’t trust you not to try to pay off my idiot brother to drop you back off home.” Melissa says. “Let’s go Y/n.”

Y/n sighs and opens the door on his right, stepping out and then holding his hand towards Melissa which she takes happily.

“Smile!” She reminds him, “my dad will be here.”

“Man, fuck yo daddy.”

Melissa deadpanned. “Behave.”

“Why can’t you just tell him that I’m not dating you and the both of us are gay?”

“His image! You know he’s one of the richest men in New York.”

“Nah, I don’t think you’ve said it enough over the four years that I’ve known you. Tell me one more time?”

Melissa slaps his shoulder and he chuckles.

“I’ll behave for you, Melly. But if I see somebody fine, I’m leaving you.”

Melissa shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Finally, the two of them arrive at the school's front door and enter the gym, which has been set up for the event.

Y/n swears he could almost pass out as the smell of several different perfumes suddenly fills his nostrils, but he keeps himself together for Melissa.

“I want something to drink.” Melissa announces, pulling Y/n into the direction of the drink table.

Y/n started to wonder what drinks they’d have available, but unsurprisingly enough there was a large bowl of punch sitting there waiting for them.

“Do you want a cup?”

“Nah.”

As several of Melissa's friends and admirers approach to say hello, Y/n waits at her side.

They had only been here for a few minutes, but it was already starting to get very tiring.

Miles and his friend entered the room, and Y/n swears he has never been happier to see him.

But Miles would never find that out.

“Y/n!” Miles exclaimed before absentmindedly widening his eyes and changing the depth of his voice. “I mean… Y/n, hey.”

Y/n nods. “Morales.”

While Melissa's admirers came and went, the two of them and Miles' friend stood there in awkward silence.

They expected that to continue, but then a group of them first greeted Melissa before heading over to Y/n.

One girl stepped forward and Y/n could tell that the other girls were there merely as moral support.

“Hi! You’re really cute and I-”

Y/n didn’t even look in her direction.“Sorry, I’m gay.”

The girl turned red and the lot of them walked away.

Miles’ friend giggled in the background while Miles himself stared at Y/n incredulously.

“Your mother ever teach you it’s rude to stare, Morales?”

————

VIII. Kings County Schools camping trip - EST. 2019

“For fucks sake, Morales.” Y/n sighed in exasperation. “Go play with your friends or something. You don’t need to follow me around.”

Miles threw his arms up in surrender. “I just want to talk!”

Y/n nodded. “Cool, bro. I support. But you talking doesn’t have to include me.”

“Kind of does, since it’s you I want to talk to.”

“Fuck, okay fine.” Y/n sighs. “Can y’all like… go back to the tent or something? I need to talk to Morales.”

His loud friend Jamari laughs. “GAY! GAY! GAY!”

His other friend Michael sighs and grabs him my the ear, pulling him away. “Shut up, Jamari.”

When his friends are finally out of earshot, he turns to face Miles.

“What’s up, Morales?”

“Well for one, I-“ Miles stopped himself, “Why do you call me that?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Your name?”

“My last name.”

Y/n shrugged. “Feels right.”

“So if I just call you y-“

“No. What do you want?”

Miles took a deep breath. “I seen you!”

“Yeah? When?”

“On the Brooklyn bridge two years ago when I was on a school bus.” Miles said quickly.

“Oh, word? What was I doing?”

“Swinging and flipping and flying and-“

“DANG,” Y/n chuckles. “I almost believed you but last time I checked, humans don’t fly.”

Miles blinked. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“Yes!” Miles threw his arms up. “Why do you always deny everything like I don’t have proof?”

“Why do you always lie and say you didn’t push me into the cooler?”

“That wasn’t me.”

“And that guy on the bridge wasn’t me.”

“But I seen you.”

“Everybody has doppelgängers, bro.” Y/n stated nonchalantly. “For all you know, that dude could’ve been named Jimmy.”

“Anyways,” Miles rolls his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I know and that your secret is safe with me.”

“There is no secret,” Y/n shrugged, popping a starburst into his mouth. “But, it’s nice to know that if there was a secret, you’d have my back.”

Miles goes to respond to Y/n, but freezes up when he hears something that sounds a lot like a bear growling.

He turns to ask Y/n if he heard it too, but Y/n has already grabbed his hand and started to carefully back the two of them away.

Moments later, Miles' shoe suddenly flies off, and as he races back to get it, the bear charges in their direction.

A lot like the white people in horror movies, Miles fell to the floor and decided to stay there screaming.

With the help of his webs and quick thinking, Y/n easily caught Miles and his sneaker.

So much for not being Spider-Man, right?

When the two of were next to each other again, Miles went to celebrate that he had been right all along when Jamari came around the corner and asked Y/n to play a song on his guitar.

“Yeah,” Y/n said after picking himself up off the ground and dusting himself off. “Tell them that I'll be there soon.”

Jamari nodded before returning to the other campers, and when Y/n was sure that Jamari was gone, he turned to face Miles.

“Tell anybody about this and I’ll steal all your money.”

—————-

IX. Lincoln High vs. Beachside Charter basketball game - EST. 2021

Y/n feels out of his element. It’s the first game after quarantine, and a lot has changed.

For one, there’s little to no people in the crowd. There are a few parents there, all of which look uninterested and have definitely been dragged there by their kids. Uninterested attendees result in little to no interaction among the crowd, which makes Y/n unmotivated and unable to concentrate.

On top of that, a few of his teammates are sick, so the team is definitely not at their best.

Y/n could never see himself saying this before, but he wishes there’d be no basketball season until the world got its shit together.

Not even the mascot is helping, nor the music playing lowly in the background to set the vibe.

The team isn’t doing well right now, and they really need a miracle.

The coach calls timeout and calls the team towards her. She tells them to put forth their best effort, but due to circumstances, she can’t get on them about their performance. She tells them to have fun, and that she won’t make them run laps if they lose.

The boys laugh a little before breaking up and making their way back to the court. Everyone’s spirits became the slightest bit higher after that talk, but Y/n’s spirits definitely lifted when he looked into the crowd and spotted one Miles Morales.

Suddenly, Y/n felt like he had to do his best. Even though Miles was his rival by default.

—————

(+ the One Time You Acted On Them)

X. Kings County Class of 2023 graduation trip: Phoenix Arizona - EST: 2023

Miles cautiously walks towards the edge of the ledge after getting the directions from the best friend of a certain someone. It’s been over a year since they last seen each other and Miles has finally accepted the reason why. Miles likes Y/n—he thinks—and he’s finally ready to confess his feelings. He’s hoping that things go right tonight so that he won’t have to hurl himself over the edge.

“Hey.” He starts, standing behind to Y/n who’s sitting dangerously close to the edge with his legs nearly dangling. “Is this seat taken?”

“You don’t see anyone else sitting there, do you?”

Miles chuckles silently and takes the hint, sitting so close yet so far away from Y/n.

He looks to Y/n and takes in his appearance. Hooded eyes, head tilted back to watch the moon, and a hint of sadness in his eyes as he blows a misty cloud of smoke from his lips.

Now that got Miles’ attention.

“You smoke?”

“It’s a fuckin’ Smartie.” Y/n replies with a blank look after hesitating for longer than he’d care to admit.

Miles giggles before he can stop himself. “Wow, Y/n. How cute of you.”

Y/n roles his eyes. “I told my elementary school teachers I’d never do drugs. I’m no liar.”

Miles chuckled then took a deep breath, leaning back before speaking. “Hey, uh…” Y/n looks at him, “I actually need to talk to you about something.”

“Talk to me.”

“So, um…” Miles starts, playing nervously with his fingers.

“…If you need a moment, I can go get another drink and let you marinate.”

Marinate?

“Where would you be getting a drink from? You’re underage.”

Y/n shrugs. “I know a guy.”

“You know more than one!” A random guy whisper yells from the bushes.

“Not now, Carl!” Y/n whisper yells back through gritted teeth. “My bad, Morales. You found your words yet?”

“Yeah, uh…” Miles takes a deep breath. “I know when we were kids we had our differences, but I feel like we’ve come a long way since then. I mean, you haven’t death glared me in a while, and I haven’t pushed you in a cooler since before we were like five.”

“I knew that was you.”

“Uh- Yeah, I’m sorry.” Miles scratches the back of his neck. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is…”

“So this is a love confession, right?”

“Um…”

“Okay, let me stop you there.” Y/n starts, standing up to his feet. “You like me, and I just so happen to not hate you, so I think we have a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yeah, we can be the next Nick and Charlie but better looking.”

“That one guy is cute.” Miles points out.

“Is he?” Miles nods at Y/n’s question. “Mm, okay.”

“So what now?” Miles asks. “Am I your boyfriend?”

“Perhaps…”

“Perhaps?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding. You can be my Soulja Bae.”

“I hate it here.”

Y/n chuckles and takes another hit from his smarties. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, two things.”

“You’re Spider-Man.”

“You knew?”

“You’re not as discreet as you think you are.” Y/n shrugs, standing up and dusting his pants off, then reaching a hand out to Miles. “Let’s go get some drinks, yeah?”

Miles smiled and took Y/n’s outstretched hand. “Yeah.”

© forever1kay, 2023

[velvetcloxds]

ENSUE | E. M

word count: 2k

warning: can confidently say that this is officially the last part of this series, it's been an emotional rollercoaster for sure, reader gets injured, shitty men in the workplace

summary: you manage to injure yourself after a confrontation with your father and the new manager and eddie finds you hiding in his bedroom instead of your usual spot, seems you've got a lot to talk about now that the dust has settled

previous chapter | series masterlist

You were tired of knowing better, it was only getting you into trouble, every chance it got. You knew better with Eddie, but you still got hurt. You knew better than the new manager your father had hired to spite you, you still got shouted at in front of all the staff. You knew better than your father, knew he couldn’t do any of this on his own, and still ended up on the other end of one of his humbling temper tantrums. Somewhere between Mr. Harrington telling you to know your place and your father calling you an inferior girl who has reached the end of her usefulness, you moved a little too close to your father’s cigarette and burned your arm. You weren’t even sure where you were going when you started rushing away, weren’t sure if you were crying out of anger or out of pain, you’d never been all that good with either, maybe it was both.  

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was so worried when he heard about what happened, but he was almost sprinting by the time he got to his room, he’d searched everywhere and this was a last resort, you knew where it was and it was always open so maybe, just maybe you’d gone there in your rush to get away from the office, hide the fact that you were crying- still, he couldn’t help the surprise on his face when he opened the door and actually found you. You were standing sort of aimlessly by his mirror, wiping at your eyes, of course, that would be your focus.

It was odd seeing you, seeing you in his space was something wholly different, it had been weeks since you found him talking to Billy, weeks since he’d been able to look at you without you looking away or excusing yourself. He hadn’t spoken more than a quick greeting or an entirely professional question since then and he was both hugely freaked out and somewhat grateful that he’d get the opportunity to do so now, all things considered.

“Y/n?” you tensed at his voice, considered it carefully before turning towards him, you wondered why he looked so worried, you’d been shouted at many times before since the two of you started working together. The only difference was that men tended to stop when he was with you, like he was some sort of buffer, they didn’t respect you any more than they did when he wasn’t there, they just respected him too much to show it in front of him. “Robin called me, said she saw you running from the office clutching your arm,” you nodded, didn’t react to him walking towards you, he meant to be slow, really he knew he should’ve been but you met his gaze, he noted then that he’d never seen you cry before- you’d been upset, hurt, insulted, and you’d been close but you’d always catch yourself.

“They turned our spot into a storage room,” you explained, hand stupidly moving to cover the burn mark on your arm, hoping he wouldn’t mention it, wouldn’t take note of it- he did, he had to stop himself from making a scene about it. “And there were people everywhere, I just needed to clear my head, I didn’t know where else to go-“

“It’s fine,” there was a silent conversation paired with his interruption, a subtle nod to your hand to have it move, an outstretched hand begging you to let him see, and the gentlest fingers that grazed around the skin to scope how bad it was. “Cigarette burn?” he had to keep his mind at bay, he knew the smokers of the office and had borrowed a cigarette from most of them, you only ever got into direct contact with one, you knew that too.

“It was an accident, I was trying to explain myself, I lost my temper,” he couldn’t picture that, you losing your temper, even when he gave you good reason to do so, you didn’t, it made his stomach turn, his blood boil, if he was in the room with you, your dad probably wouldn’t have gotten close enough to shout at you let alone hurt you. “I’m sorry, I’m the one who told you to leave me alone and now I just show up when I need someone,” you scoffed, tried to take your arm back but he wouldn’t allow that, would reprimand you soon enough for apologizing for something so silly. It was the oddest thing when you looked at him, you’d convinced yourself you despised him, didn’t know him, but the way his eyes drifted over your face and his skin melted against yours and his curls fell forward when he tilted his head to examine your arm, you were sure he cared, it felt like he did, really.

“We should get this cleaned up,” he sighed and you didn’t object, didn’t fight him when he guided you to the bathroom by hand, didn’t make any attempt to take your hand back as he rummaged the cupboard for supplies- it was comfort in its simplest form, you thought, how familiar it felt to be seen by him, cared for like you’d deprived yourself of something you didn’t know you’d gotten used to even if it wasn’t genuine.  

He had you sit on the closed toilet seat, and kneeled in front of you as he set everything aside and your mind was racing, there was a part of you that considered maybe you’d overreacted, accidents happen, people get upset if it weren’t you, it would’ve been someone else, it had just been you for about a month now and if anything you were tired of being the punching bag while trying to help. You watched Eddie work and were reminded with much annoyance how pretty he was, how despite what you heard him talking about and what he’d done, he was one of the few people who you felt comfortable being weak around, soft, you didn’t have to think- it was a feeling, not logic, logic had proved otherwise- but the fact stood, you were tired of thinking.

“Thank you, Eddie,” he hummed, satisfied with the job he’d done, it probably wasn’t wise, closing a burn wound, but you’d be going home soon, and he didn’t think you’d want anyone to question it, it wasn’t as bad as the discoloration looked but knowing you, you’d be embarrassed by it still.

“You got to open that as soon as you get home, okay, don’t leave it closed,” you’d never heard his voice quite that timid and gentle, which speaks volumes considering he always spoke to you softly, kindly. “I think I have one of your concealer sticks in one of my jackets if you want to fix your makeup but-“ he interrupted himself, paused when he realized he’d brought a hand to your cheek, brushed a thumb over a stray trail of a tear, he half expected you to jump back, not lean into the touch, certainly not close your eyes to savor it. “But I don’t think you need to,” he continued, and he wasn’t sure if his heart was still beating in rhythm, not really, it was pounding in his ears and it didn’t sound right, only got louder as you slid your fingers around his wrist. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” it was a loaded sentence, you’d learned that much about being around him so long, it meant he was sorry for having to see you like this, it meant he was sorry for everything he’d done and not done with Billy, for being one of the men who’d let you down.

“I should hate you,” you noted, opened your eyes, only to find his staring back at you, they held an openness to them you hadn’t seen in a while, you realized you should’ve noticed the lack thereof sooner, maybe you did, maybe you ignored it. “But you’re such a bastard, Eddie Munson, even when you’ve given me every reason to be utterly appalled by you, you’re still the first person I wanted to see when I felt like this.”

“You should hate me,” he agreed, and you were happy he didn’t try and take his hand back, letting your joined fingers fall to your lap, brushing a thumb over your knuckles, rings cold against your warm skin, a perfect piece of symbolism. “I wanted to be the first person to find you like this, make sure you’re okay.”

“What a mess we are- there was chaos when we didn’t stay away from each other and chaos when we did, it’s like were doomed.”

“Chaos tends to follow me around, should’ve warned you about that,” he had that look again, that paled face of regret that he’d been wearing for days now, it took everything in you not to hug it away then and it took everything in you not to hug it away now. “I should’ve tried harder to tell you that this wasn’t all a lie, it wasn’t all pretend, it’s much easier to care for you than it is not to.”

“Some of it felt real.”

“Because it was, sweetheart, honest, I screwed up either way, and we both know even if I didn’t, there was no sort of happy ending here, but it wasn’t all for them, I genuinely was soft for you,” the admission was paired with a tint of rose to his cheeks and though he tried to tilt his head and hide it with his curls, it made your heart soar, you hadn’t gone mad, your heart wasn’t betraying you, it wasn’t all a ploy.

“I get it, you know, what you guys did to my dad- I don’t think my mom deserves it, and let’s face it, I wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t forced to be here too- but maybe I’d have been far less upset with you if things were different.”

“Always wishing for things to be different,” he scoffed, you knew he couldn’t comment on what you’d said, mostly because as much loathing as you had for your father, you didn’t wish ruin upon your family, you were angry and maybe if he wasn’t in the picture you’d be less angry, if he wasn’t in the picture Eddie would just be a questionable guy who made it hard to hate him despite knowing that your should.

“I think I’m going to write some heartbreaking stories about you, Eddie,” you noted, and he moved quickly to make room when you slid down to kneel in front of him. “Think it’s going to take me forever to stop thinking about you.”

“Don’t I know it,” it was scary how quickly you caved, how easy it was to let him pull you into his chest, hold you against him like it wasn’t going against everything you promised yourself and your mother. It was intoxicating how safe it felt between his arms, how much his leather jacket smelt like home and comfort and good things he didn’t represent. You hated every second of it, wrapped your arms around his waist, breathed him in, allowed him to place a fleeting kiss on the top of your head and you wished the moment would endure forever. “Will you make me good in your stories?” he whispered when he walked you to his door, he was planning on sneaking out first, drawing attention away from the room long enough to slip out, eager hand latched onto your wrist.

“Course I will, you’re good, Eddie, you’re just a little lost right now.”

[o-wyrmlight]

Chapter 7 for A Toast To The Pigs, a Martinaise retelling where Harry Du Bois wakes up with his memory intact and still has to solve the Martinaise case.

This chapter deals with: Discussions of suicidal thoughts/past suicide attempt; suicide joke; brief misogyny, among probably a few other things. Really, it's Disco Elysium. Expect canon-typical Disco Elysium content.

His eyes have been flitting about the windows since you first began speaking to him, posture hunched like a nervous cat. In an attempt to help soothe him, your eyes have wandered with his, seeking out the people who surely are not watching through the windows or along the balcony. For the longest time, you see nothing but the smoker on the balcony’s own reflection refracted back upon himself. It’s as you’re about to let him leave, following his eyes one final time, that you see it: The rustling of a curtain. And suddenly you see it everywhere. You think you see it everywhere. Within every window that holds his reflection lies the potential for a hunter’s eye to be concealed. Some of the windows are dark and tinted: Some are obscured by curtains. And they may be rustling. They may have been rustling this whole time, and you simply didn’t care enough to notice. By the time he leaves, your spine is tingling. The eyes of a hundred hunters are on you. You’re aware now that this is not your jungle. Here, you are nothing more than a slab of meat. The scopes are focused on you. You don’t even have your gun to defend yourself. Your impulse to survive is screaming. Run. Run. Run.

Harrier Du Bois had a partner. That was news to Kim, really. Harrier Du Bois had a partner.

Somehow, the 41st officer struck him as somebody who didn’t have one, much like Kim—perhaps it was his instance on being left to operate alone, or relegate Kim as his ‘current partner’, true as it was. The specification of it in hindsight was somewhat strange, though, wasn’t it? But if he had a partner, it made more sense. His talkative nature and proclivity toward banter should’ve made that more obvious.

Why was Harrier Du Bois alone in the Whirling-in-Rags, then? Where was his partner? His mind drifted to the Kineema and Harrier’s attempt to tell him to more or less ‘beat it’. If he wanted to be alone that badly, Kim wouldn’t be surprised if Harrier employed similar or more extreme tactics for them. But why?

No. Wait. It was easy, actually.

A sold gun. Clothes from the golden glory days of disco. No spare change of clothes. No expectation to stay in Martinaise. A weekend-long deluge of alcohol, drugs and whatever else he might have gotten his hands on. A complete absence of money. A missing partner. The flippant disregard for his health and wellbeing. The initial attempts to push Kim away and be left alone. "Sunset Tequila shit."

Of course. It was hardly even a question. He didn’t come to Martinaise to solve a case. He came to Martinaise to kill himself.

[sacred-gaze]

macabre.

✰ a horror enhypen fic || word count: 30k+

✰ description — stupidly, a group of friends plan a party at a mansion who’s owner had mysteriously gone missing. little do they know, they just might be next.

✰ warnings — major character death, murder, blood, knives, gore, angst, violence, strong language, mention of abuse, mention of overdose, some smoking and underage drinking (at a party), basically a murderous psychological horror.

✰ note — there is one joke said by jake to jungwon about how close jaywon are in this story and how they could be lovers (they're not), though it's because of reasons that will be explained later on, it is worth mentioning here about it just in case. other than that, enjoy!

“What are you doing?”

Jungwon lifted his head quickly at the sudden voice, but from the tone alone, he knew the other had been standing there for at least a while. He didn’t notice the shoes that had appeared in front of him, though he had just been staring at his lap for a solid minute or two. Had he zoned out again? He shook his head and huffed, “Obviously nothing,” he replied, scooting over a little as Jay turned around so he could sit beside the younger boy on the bench just outside the front entrance of their school.

It was sometime past noon during lunch, and Jungwon had found himself wandering the halls with a reluctant appetite and a growing despair for this school. He thought he had been wronged as he worked harder than the others for his class president campaign, but lost the election to the principal’s daughter. He should’ve seen it coming, really, but he couldn’t help feeling unworthy, almost useless in a way. He did his best, he was sure of it. But did he actually not do as well as he thought he did? Maybe, maybe not.

“It’s not your fault, ya’know,” Jay told him, as if he knew exactly why Jungwon was upset—though he always did in one way or another, “Your campaign was better than everyone else’s. It’s—nepotism, or whatever.” He mumbled a bit, but Jungwon heard him clearly.

“I know. It’s fine,”

“No it’s not, Won,”

“No, it is,” Jungwon reassures the other, though he felt like he was still trying to convince himself that it was, too. “I’ll be fine, I’ve—” He cut himself off, realizing he didn’t have next year to campaign again. He was a fourth year. He graduates in the spring. “It’s fine,” he repeats again.

Jay rolled his eyes, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Won,” and he leaned back against the bench. “You hear about Niki?” but Jungwon shook his head. “His parents kicked him out, I think he’s staying with Sunoo or Jake, I can’t remember who.”

Jungwon hummed, “How long do you think it’ll last this time?”

The older male shrugged, “Two weeks. Not a day later,”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah I think so. He seemed fine. This isn’t the first time so I’m sure he’s pretty used to it by now,” it was a sly remark, which was why Jungwon was a little relieved he was the only one who had heard it. Niki and his family weren’t the closest when it came to their differences, which caused Niki to rebel a lot and eventually leave or get kicked out for a while before he went back. He’d swear every time that he’ll never go back, but he’s usually back there within a week or two.

“What was it for this time?”

“Smoking, he said.”

“I thought he didn’t smoke,”

“No we just told you that so you wouldn’t freak,” Jay took out a lollipop from his pocket and took off the wrapper, sticking it into his mouth while completely not noticing the shocked expression that had appeared on Jungwon’s face.

“What do you mean he smokes? Why would he—” Jungwoon stopped and let out a deep breath, “Why would you keep that from me?”

“Because you swore off smoking when you were, like, 8. You hate smokers,”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah but I’m me. Of course you don’t hate me,” Jay smiled at the younger, the stick of the lollipop pointing outwards of his mouth, gritting against his teeth a little. “I’m also reformed. I don’t smoke,”

“Anymore, at least.”

Jay used to smoke at least a pack a day but since it finally started to mess with his health, he quit and used lollipops as a replacement. Jungwon hated the smell of cigarette smoke, just the smell alone gave him a migraine every time. Jay never disclosed why he stopped smoking, except when Jake asked him while Jungwon was there, but just before he said whatever he was originally going to say, he just said, ‘Cancer sucks, you know,’ and that was the end of it.

“Whatever,” that was his favorite word, “Besides—You’d lose your mind if you ever hated me,”

Jungwoon scoffed, “I would not. I’m not dependent on your existence,”

Jay clicked his tongue, “Funny.”

“I’m not.”

“Whatever you say, Won.”

Jungwoon huffed, but he was quiet for a minute. Jay took the lollipop out of his mouth for a second before looking over to Jungwon, though he didn’t say anything and just looked away again. Jungwon’s hands locked together in his lap, sitting awkwardly. Jay glanced over, and leaned his head back. “What is it, Won?”

The younger looked over, “Huh? Nothing,”

“Talk.”

He didn’t like it when Jay spoke with that kind of tone, so he just obliged as he rolled his eyes. “I mean, I’d miss you. If we weren’t friends. I could survive, but I don’t think I’d want to.”

Jay furrowed his eyebrows. “Thanks?”

“No I mean,” Jungwon turned his body, sitting sideways on the bench to face Jay with his right leg crossed over his left ankle, “You’re my best friend, but I also don’t have many friends to begin with. I’ve learned to be alone, so if you weren’t here, I’d survive, but I’d hate it.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“I wouldn’t want to be without you,”

From the look on Jay’s face, Jungwon felt his stomach twist inside him. Jungwon tried his best to not sound sentimental when he spoke with Jay. It wasn’t that Jay wasn’t an emotional person, because he was, definitely, but in a way, that worried Jungwon so he did his best to stray away from the more sentimental stuff. He’s known Jay all his life, his first friend ever, his best friend since diapers. He met Niki, Sunoo, and all the others through school, but it was Jay he’s known before everything. They’ve been best friends way longer than they’ve known the others, which was why they didn’t really say anything about how close the two were.

Jay was direct, tough and a little sly. He was nice to his friends, especially Jungwon, who was like family to him. He didn’t like people, but he was attractive and charming. Lots of girls fawned over him, but he paid no attention to them. He was more into his studies and his friends, he couldn’t care less about a girlfriend then, despite the fact he was a senior and one of the more popular guys there. Like stated before, he used to be a huge smoker, but because of his leather-jacket-and-jeans type of fashion outside of school, he was labeled as “the bad boy” even though he was actually very kind and caring when he’s around the people he loved the most. But Jungwon wasn’t like him, not at all.

Jungwoo was shy, he was way too nice to everyone and anyone which led to a lot of ignored trauma Jungwon went through growing up. He didn’t talk much about his home life, nor his past or his problems. He didn’t like to. He thought he’d be seen as weak-minded, especially at such a prestigious academy. But his friends meant the world to him. He cared the most about Jay since they’ve practically been friends since they were babies. But even though Jay was just a little under a year older than Jungwon (Jungwon had a late birthday but still qualified to be put into the same class as Jay), he still looked up to Jay for most of the years that have passed. Jungwon still does, even though he claims he doesn’t anymore.

Unlike the rest of them, Jungwon and Niki were the only two that went to the academy on a scholarship. The others were rich, accepted into the academy easily with their remarkable grades and overwhelming wealth. But Jungwon and Niki weren’t so fortunate with their families and home life. Of course, they did their best to not let that affect their lives at school. Niki, well, tried but he was always getting kicked out, meanwhile Jungwon kept his life so secret that Jay was the only person who had a clue about what Jungwon’s been through, and is still going through every day. But still, Jungwon doesn’t like to feel weak so Jay tries to not worry so much about Jungwon, though he couldn’t help it most of the time. Jungwon was his best friend. He may never admit it, but in all honesty, Jay knew he couldn’t live without him.

Jay didn’t say anything for a moment, which only made Jungwon feel uneasy. But then Jay looked over at him, and gave him a short smile.

“You’re too good, Jungwon.”

Jungwon smiled, but then he checked his phone for the time. “Shit, lunch is almost over.”

“You didn’t eat?”

Jungwon shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Wasn’t hungry,” Jungwon shrugged. “Did you?”

Jay took out his lollipop that was much smaller now. “Just this,” and he popped it back into his mouth, “You wanna head back to class?”

“Sure.”

Both of them stood up from the bench and headed back inside the building. Their next class was on the third floor so they went ahead and waited outside the room since it wouldn’t be long until the bell would ring. Jay stood against the wall, his upper back touching the glass window as Jay stood beside him, looking through that same window.

“Aye,”

Jungwon turned his head to the right, and Jay eventually did the same, seeing two of their friends approaching, Sunghoon and Heeseung.

“Did you skip lunch, too?” Sunghoon asked first.

Jay shrugged, “More or less,” with one hand, he dabbed up Sunghoon and Heeseung while the other buried itself in his pocket. Jungwon glanced back through the window before turning to face the others. “What were you guys doing?”

“We left and got food,” Heeseung replied. “I have some leftover curry. You want it?” He reached the white styrofoam box out to Jungwon.

But Jungwon shook his head, “No thank you. I’m not really hungry,” and though Jay glanced at him, he kept his mouth shut.

Heeseung was the most popular guy at school, but he was really nice. A fourth year like Jay and Jungwon, Sunghoon, too. He was very well liked, he knew everyone and everyone knew him. He met Jay back in their first year and they’ve been friends ever since, and because of that, Jungwon became friends with him, too. It was the opposite for Sunghoon, however, as he met Jungwon first as second years and became friends with Jay later.

Sunghoon was always involved in clubs, so most of the guys would tease him for how many medallions and ropes he’ll have to wear for graduation when the day eventually comes. But being involved in so many clubs and keeping up with all of them meant that Sunghoon was very popular with the underclassmen. However, he always rejects when girls ask him out, not because he didn’t like them, but because he was always busy. Either with the guys or the growing list of clubs he’s in, Sunghoon was always busy. He was never home.

Sunghoon thinned his lips, “Hey, we heard about the election. You okay?”

Jungwon nodded, “I think so. It is what it is, I guess.” He shrugged carelessly, trying to seem at least okay with the fact he lost the election, but his face couldn’t appear more sad about it.

“Hey, you know what?” Heeseung started to say, a curving smile on his face, “We should have a party.”

“A party?” Jay raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah, to celebrate Jungwon’s hard work! And his position as vice president!”

To the second runnings of the student body president election, they are given the vice president position instead. Jungwon absolutely hated that, it felt humiliating. But it was nice to see that his friends thought he was great.

Jungwon disagreed, however.

“No way,” said Jungwon quickly, “Why would we have a party just for that?”

“Uh, to celebrate you? Did you not hear me just now?” Heeseung replied with a chuckle, “Don’t be such a downer, Jungwon. Let us plan it, yeah?”

“I dunno . . .” He scratched the back of his neck, “You guys shouldn’t go out of your way and do all that just for this. It’s not even that great either. I’m just the vice president,”

“Still a president, nonetheless,” said Sunghoon. “Your achievements are worth acknowledging,”

“And celebrating!” Heeseung added. “Now, will you let us plan the party?”

Jungwon then looked to Jay, almost for permission but also, maybe some back up on why they shouldn’t do this. But disappointed like always, Jay smiled.

“I think it could be fun,” Jay half-shrugged, “Don’t you think?” He looked over at Jungwon, but he knew Jungwon couldn’t say no to him.

Jungwon sighed. “I guess,” It was obvious he didn’t want it, but being a people pleaser was both a blessing and a curse, but mostly a curse.

Sunghoon grinned, “Good. Heeseung and I will plan it.”

“But wait, where will it be at?” Jay suddenly questioned, earning a blank expression on the other’s face.

Sunghoon stared at him, blinking a couple times at the older before he eventually spoke. “I just said we’ll figure it out.”

Jay rolled his eyes, “Whatever,” he grumbled and turned around just as the bell rang. “Let us know about the party,” he said before he opened the classroom door and headed inside. Jungwon stood out in the hall with them for another minute or so before they all dabbed each other up and went their separate ways for the day. Jungwon always sat beside Jay in the classes they shared together. Some even called them inseparable, though others would question the way Jay would act sometimes but Jungwon would always excuse it with his “he’s got a real tough exterior that hides a golden heart” line. It always makes the girls swoon. But Jay never paid them any attention. He never knew how to love someone, but neither did Jungwon.

By the end of class, Jay had an entire page of notes while Jungwon barely wrote down three lines worth of notes. He couldn’t keep his focus, for some reason, he just couldn’t. Jay always took pages and pages of notes, and normally Jungwon took decent notes as well, but lately, since the election, he’s just become so out of place. He can’t focus, he’s starting to become tired all the time. Was he depressed? He didn’t think so. But maybe he was, or starting to be. Maybe. But he hoped he wasn’t.

It should be noted that Jay has a black 2022 Dodge Charger, a car worth way more than Jungwon’s future college tuition. He always parks it on the right side of the parking lot in the very last spot. It’s a bit of a walk to get to it, but Jay never minded it. In fact, he enjoyed it. He liked exercising and keeping in shape, while Jungwon would just tolerate the constant walking and exercising because Jay was his best friend.

Since Jungwon doesn’t have a car yet, he always rides with Jay to school. The others had cars, too, but he liked Jay’s the best. Sunghoon had a tan-colored 2016 Honda Civic which he got from his mom after she got herself a new car. Sunoo had a blue 2017 Kia Soul which he had gotten for his 16th birthday. Heeseung was given his dad’s old pick up truck, though it wasn’t old at all. It was a silver 2019 Chevrolet Silverado. Niki has an older car, a crimson 2009 Nissan Altima his grandpa gave to him before he passed. And Jake has a white 2021 Nissan Sentra that he bought with his own money, already almost paid off. Jay’s was already paid off (a perk of rich parents).

Jungwon was the only one without a car, for obvious familial reasons, but Jay never had a problem with taking him to school with him. First, they were best friends, and two, Jungwon loved Jay’s car. It was a sports car, modern and new, and clean—and really, really fast. And since Jay was almost never sick, though whenever he was sick, it was always during the breaks throughout the school year, he was never absent. In fact, he hadn't missed a single day of school since the first grade. He’s gotten plenty of perfect attendance awards for that over the years, too.

In a way, Jungwon really did look up to him. He was intelligent, talented, and strong. He was what Jungwon always wanted to be. It was kinda like Jay was his role model, his own best friend. Was that weird? He never paid any attention to details like that, not until lately at least.

Jay unlocked the car and tossed his backpack into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. Jungwon got into the passenger seat and shut the door, holding his backpack in his lap. It earned a look from Jay, like it always did, but he didn’t say anything.

Jungwon looked over after he buckled his seat belt, but his eyes turned to his phone as he felt it vibrate in his hand. He read the message, then turned back to Jay who had just started the car. “Hey, the guys wanna meet at the junkyard. You wanna go?”

“God, why did we choose that to be our hang out place?” Jay muttered under his breath, “But sure. You wanna go straight there or pick something up first?”

“Up to you,”

“Let’s just head there first,” Jay looked back as he started to back out of the parking spot. One arm on shoulder of Jungwon’s seat and the other pressed against the edge of the steering wheel, his left hand out flat as his palm moves the steering wheel with ease. It was hard not to notice Jay’s jawline—it was sharp, like really sharp. It could cut tomatoes, or potatoes, or other foods one would cut with a knife, but Jay’s jawline was one of his best looking attributes.

Music played at a low volume from the radio. It was a song he’d only heard a few times, but it was Jay’s favorite—Fade Into You by Mazzy Star. Jay hummed along the guitar strums, mouthing some of the words as he drove. It somewhat made the silent car ride a little more tolerable but that didn’t distract Jungwon enough from starting to feel awkward. Thinking about the party the guys were planning for him, it felt like too much for something he didn’t want. He wanted to be the president, not the vice president. It was a downgrade, a very humiliating downgrade. But the others didn’t see it like that. They were always so hopeful.

But all of them—with the exception of Niki—had richer families, but even Niki was a very hopeful person. They all had their own issues, but that didn’t stop their positivity, weirdly. For example, Heeseung’s parents had him out of wedlock but never married because they ended up breaking up before he was even born, Jake’s parents were never married either but they split up sometime after Jake was born anyways, Sunghoon’s parents almost divorced like twenty times but never went through it, and Niki’s were literal drug dealers, but they were all so positive. Even Jay was at times. But Jungwon never got it. He wasn’t like a ‘Debbie Downer,’ or a ‘Negative Nancy,’ but he definitely wasn’t all that positive. He just went with the flow, and whatever happens, well, happens. He was in control of his emotions, mostly, but that just really worried Jay and the others more. They never knew what Jungwon was thinking. But Jay always figured it out, in one way or another, he did. And Jungwon hated it.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon jumped a little at Jay’s sudden voice, but he nodded his head, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, Won,” He glanced over, “What’s going on?”

Jungwon sighed, looking down at his lap. “Is it really necessary for a party? I mean,” he lifted his head and looked over at Jay, “I’m the vice president, not the president. It’s humiliating, Jay. It’s like a slap in the face,”

Jay scoffed, “No it’s not—”

“Yes it is!” Jungwon exclaimed, “I wanted to be the president, not the stupid, forgotten about vice president.”

“Jungwon—”

“No!” Jungwon cut him off, “This is my fourth year, Jay! I wanted this year to be good. University won’t be like high school. We’re all going to different places, we won’t be together anymore. We’re splitting up.”

Jay frowned, looking over at the other once he stopped at a red light. “Won, are you really this worried about that? We’ll hang out all the time, I swear. We’re not splitting up. Even if we’re busy through the week, we still have the weekend. A-And the breaks!” He sighed, “We’re not splitting up, Won. I promise you,” Jay reassured him with a soft smile, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Jungwon leaned back and turned to the window, “What’s gonna happen when you go off to Jeju, huh?” He spoke a bit lowly, almost trying to hide his breaking voice.

Jay was going to Jeju National University next fall. He’ll be living 9 hours away.

“Nothing’s going to happen.” Jay stated firmly, “I swear to you.”

The younger male glanced over, but kept his mouth shut. Jay’s foot lifted off the break and started to go again. In the distance, there were car horns, but Jungwon didn’t even glance in its direction. He just continued to stare through the window, silently in his thoughts. Jay let out a sigh as he turned his blinker on and turned left, soon exiting the city of Seoul, arriving at the junkyard where the group always hung out. He didn’t get why a bunch of academy kids chose to hang out 24/7 at an old junkyard, but it was what they decided. Just as they arrived, parking in between Sunghoon and Jake’s cars, Jay leaned back and huffed. He turned his head and looked at Jungwon, waiting for the younger to say something, but when only silence continued to grow in between the two, Jay decided to speak instead.

“I know you think it’s humiliating, but it’s not to us,” Jay told him, “or at least it’s not to me.” But Jungwon kept quiet, earning a frown from Jay again. “I’m proud of you, Won.”

Just as Jungwon started to turn his head to look over, Jay turned and got out of the car. Jungwon kept his thoughts inside, letting out a sigh before he got out of the car as well. Jay closed his door and locked the car, causing it to honk once and the lights to blink. Jungwon followed him into the junkyard, walking behind him with a bit of distance. He buried his hands into his pockets, his head low as he followed Jay out to the empty space in the middle of the junkyard where the others were. All still dressed in their school uniforms, most of them found a seat on old barrels or like Jake, sitting on the hood of an old, rusted, jacked up car.

Sunoo spoke first, “Congrats, Jungwon!” He had a big smile plastered on his face, his eyes crinkled like two turned over crescents, rosy cheeks and a warming personality.

Unlike the others, Sunoo was an art student, very talented when it came to art, drawing, pottery, etc. He was a talented artist, but because all his work was put into his art, he didn’t really talk to anyone who weren’t the guys. In fact, he was pretty shy, maybe more than Jungwon was. He was kind and calm, though he practically laughed at everything. He was a very sweet person, liked by many though he only ever talked to a handful of people.

Jungwon kept his eyes strayed away, “Thanks,” he muttered, making Sunoo tilt his head in confusion but before he could ask, Sunghoon stepped forward, his hands in his pockets, standing like some bully—which he wasn’t—but he looked cool, nonetheless.

“So, we have an issue about the party,”

“That we shouldn’t have it? Great!” Jungwon replied sarcastically, but when everyone looked at him and stared, he got defensive. “What? I don’t want the party!”

“Would you quit with that?” Jay stood beside him, his arms crossed, “We’re trying to celebrate your accomplishment. Would it hurt you to be grateful?”

Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows, “Yes, actually, it would because why are we even having this party?” He questioned them all, “I lost the election, I didn’t win it. Why are we celebrating my loss?”

“Oh god, not this again.”

“Yes! This again!” Jungwon turned to the others, “It’s humiliating, and I dunno why I keep having to explain this but I didn’t run to be the V.P. I wanted to be the president, but I was given the lesser because I wasn’t good enough,”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” Heeseung reprimanded, “You are way better than that chick. In every way, you are. She’s a nepo-baby. She only got that shit because of her father. You deserved it whole-heartedly, and because no one else is celebrating your hard work, we’re going to do it instead.” He explained to the younger, “So would you just let us plan the damn party?”

“Yeah, you don’t even let us throw you a birthday party,” said Sunghoon, “At least let us throw you this one,” but that had hit a sensitive nerve with Jungwon, not that anyone noticed it.

Jungwon huffed, crossing his arms and looking off. He thought for a moment, shaking his head. “If I let you guys plan this party, would you guys get off my dick about it?”

“Jeez,” Jake hissed, “The hell is up with you, Jungwon?”

Jake was more athletically popular than the others were. He played basketball most of his life, even playing a few years of both soccer and baseball as well. Everyone saw him as a jock, which made him a definite girl-magnet. However, unlike the stereotypical jock, he was actually very smart and was very into science and physics. He had been in AP biology, AP chemistry, AP physics, even planning to go to university as a physics major. He was very smart, and his intelligence poured out of him (which only made more girls find him very attractive) but he always paid attention to his team, his future, and his friends. He was very funny, though collected and kind of distant with people from different social groups. But he was still one of the more popular guys at the academy, which was never something he disliked. He also was a foreigner from Australia, so that also became why so many girls wanted him. Although lately, he’s only been paying attention to one.

Jungwon unfolded his arms, grunting. “You guys aren’t listening to me. I don’t want this party. Really! It’s embarrassing that I lost, after all my hard work. Humbled and humiliated. I don’t want to be reminded of it,”

Heeseung sighed, “We hear you. But we want to celebrate you and your hard work, even though you didn’t win. Even if the party is just us, we want to celebrate you. Could you let us do that?” He lifted his eyebrows, trying to give Jungwon a gentle, reassuring smile.

He didn’t know what to say. Did he want to give in? Was he really going to let his friends plan a party for him which will just be them? He hated feeling humiliated, but maybe this could help feel better. Maybe he judged it too quickly. Should he give it a shot?

“I dunno, guys . . .” Jungwon shook his head, “You guys are popular. It’ll get around that you’re having a party and then hundreds of people will show up.”

“Is that really that bad?” Jake replied, “More people to celebrate with us. Besides, we don’t have to tell them why we’re having the party. We can just have a party, and if people end up coming, we can just go to a different room and celebrate alone before we return, I guess?”

Jungwoon was unsure. “Is it really worth it?”

“Of course it is,” Jay suddenly spoke up, earning Jungwon’s attention almost immediately, “It’s a party for you. Of course it’s worth it.”

Jungwon looked around at the others, then he let out a long sigh, “Fine. We can have a party,” and though the guys started to cheer, Jungwon continued, “But don’t go overboard.”

Sunghoon cleared his throat, “Okay, cool that we got it approved or whatever, but there’s still one issue about all this,” he paused, “We don’t have a place to have the party.”

“What do you mean?” Niki raised his eyebrow, “You guys are rich. Just rent out a venue,”

Niki, like Jungwon, went to the academy on a scholarship because he was smart and passed enough tests with flying colors that got him to be enrolled (free) into the academy. His family was poor, almost on the brink of poverty, which caused Niki to work at a part-time job with inhuman hours, though he’d always claim that “the money was all worth it in the end.” He always denied the others’ attempts to give him money. He didn’t like help. However, while Jungwon lived with his grandma, Niki lived with his terrible parents who constantly kicked him out of the house from Niki’s rebellious antics that started to grow because of how they treated him during his childhood. It was his right to act out, however, because his parents were absolute hypocrites. Niki was actually Japanese, making him a foreigner. He moved to South Korea with his family when he was about six or seven, and has lived in Seoul ever since. He was very independent, and he didn’t care for gender norms or rules, a basic bad boy—which didn’t really help his case every time he’d get kicked out and forced to stay at his friends’ houses all the time.

“No, no. We wanted to have it at one of our houses,” said Sunghoon, “but all of our parents will be in town. And obviously, we can’t have it at school or the park or something.”

“Then where are we going to have it?” asks Heeseung. “Are we just not going to have it?”

“So we convinced Jungwon for nothing?” Jay remarked, earning a nudge from Jungwon in response.

“No, no. I’ll figure it out,” Sunghoon said, “Just try and convince yall’s parents to go on a sudden trip or something. Could we maybe have it in your pool house, Jake?”

“No! That’s where I sleep!” Jake exclaimed, offended, “What about Sunoo’s garage?”

“That’s my art studio!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I renovated it last week. I thought I told you,”

“We’re getting off topic,” Sunghoon raised his voice over the rest, “We will figure it out. But no matter what—We are going to have this party.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes, “God, you guys— It’s really not that serious.”

Heeseung shushed him, “Yes, it is that serious, now let us do our jobs, yeah?”

“What—” Jungwon turned, “Jay, help me out,” he whispered to him.

Jay stared at him blankly for a moment before he shrugged, “You heard the man.”

Jungwon groaned, “I hate you,” he grumbled, earning a laugh from Jay.

A bit of time passed and the group dispersed and headed home for the night. Jay dropped Jungwon off at his house and headed home as well. Jungwon went inside the house, noticing his grandma sitting on the couch as she folded the warm clothes from the white laundry basket beside her. Jungwon closed the front door quietly, holding one of his backpack straps as he started to walk past the living room walkway quietly and quickly so she wouldn’t notice him, but unfortunately, she saw him and called for him.

“Jungwonie, come here,”

Jungwon stopped and groaned before turning back and walking into the living room. “Hi, grandma. How’s your day been?” It was chit-chat, trying to get this over with so he could just head straight to his room, cry for a bit, and then eventually pass out.

She smiled, “It’s been slow. I was wondering when you’d get home,”

“Sorry, we went to the junkyard,” he replied quietly, fiddling with his fingers. She glanced at him then turned back to watch the TV ahead of her. The news was playing out, the news reporter talking about missing people again but then he heard a familiar name. He looks up, a bit intrigued. “Mr Hwang?” Sunghoon’s neighbor’s face was displayed on the screen beside the news reporter, “He’s missing?”

“Since Tuesday, apparently,”

“Of last week?” Jungwon leaned back, “Do you think he’s okay?”

She shook her head, “I have worried about him these last few years. You heard about his wife?” After Jungwon nodded, she shook her head again. “Poor boy. I pray for him,”

Jungwon looked over, but didn’t say anything. Then, she smiled a bit and turned to him.

“How’s Jay doing?” She always asks about him. She loves Jay, almost as much as she loved Jungwon—her own grandson—but then again, he didn’t blame her. Everyone loved Jay.

Jungwon nodded once, “Good. Him and the others are planning a party for me,”

She tilted her head, “A party? For what?”

“Well, I lost the election but I’m still the vice president so they’re celebrating that.”

“That’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” She was excited for her grandson, but he couldn’t disagree with her more.

“I dunno,” Jungwon shrugged, “I thought it was humiliating that I lost, but they’re so convinced that I did so well. I don’t get it, but maybe that’s just me,”

It wasn’t news (especially to her) that Jungwon was very hard on himself. He never thought of himself as good enough, even if he was more than enough. The others saw him for who he was—a strong, independent, intelligent person who was hard working, realistic, reliable, and so on. But Jungwon never understood that. He didn’t understand any of it, but it was like a trauma response to think of everything he does as not good enough. He’s not necessarily a perfectionist, but he thinks most of what he does isn’t good enough and that he’s prone to doing everything wrong. He’s convinced everyone sees him as weak and unreliable so he goes out of his way constantly to be there for his friends, make sure he does everything right, practically sell his soul and entire being to make his friends happy. They’d always tell him that they’re fine, that he should worry more about himself and not them, but he never listens.

“It usually is just you,” She remarks. “You’re good, Jungwonie. Why don’t you see that?” She asks, “You make me so proud, and I’m sure your grandfather would agree, too.” His grandfather passed away some years ago, he was like a dad to Jungwon, like his grandma was like a mom to him. He’s never told anyone, but Jay, about his home life, and how things used to be, but even Jay didn’t know everything, but he knew enough to help him if he needed it. Jungwon wasn’t even sure if he’d ever tell him everything either.

“But I don’t understand it,” Jungwon replied quietly, “I do my best but I get turned away. I know I should be grateful but I always try my hardest, but I’m always given the least.”

She curved her lips downward, creasing her eyebrows, drawing them together before she sighed. “Your mother was always hard on herself too,” She began to say, but just hearing the mention of his mother made Jungwon’s stomach twist, “I couldn’t say I wasn’t hard on her, too. But I wanted her to learn and grow, but as I have seen my own mistakes and learned, I promised I’d take care of you to make up for all the mistakes I made with her.”

Jungwon’s nose stung, he felt the tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes. But he quickly took the end of his index finger and wiped them away. He sniffled, “You’re so kind, grandma.”

He tried to give her a smile, but she folded a blouse and left it in her lap, staring down at it for a moment before she lifted her head slowly and looked over at her grandson, smiling at him now.

“And you, the same, my boy.” She smiled more, “Now go get some rest. I suppose you let them plan you a party, hm?”

He let out a laugh, “Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” She nodded, “You deserve it, sweetheart.” And as he stood, he bowed to her and turned to leave the room. Then, she switched the channel over to a different one, playing one of her favorite shows. She cheered quietly, but Jungwon heard one of the characters say something about a carousel. He listened closely at the doorway, hearing it again. The carousel never stops turning. He kinda scoffed at it. “Gosh, she watches such weird shows.” He mutters before finally leaving.

In his room, he tossed his backpack onto his desk chair before flopping onto his bed, sighing loudly as the bed creaked. It was an older bed, one his grandpa slept on while he grew up. But it was bigger than a twin so he didn’t mind its age. There were posters on the wall—mostly music artists such as Lana Del Rey, The Neighborhood, Brent Faiyaz, etc. His bedsheets were white and red, with his blanket being a darker red color. There was a dresser in the corner of the room, against the wall across the one his bed was pressed up against. Beside the dresser was his desk where his closed laptop sat and a bulletin board hung above it. It had important notes, schedules, but most notably, it had photos of him and his friends on it. He cared a lot about his friends.

Groaning as he stretched, Jungwon eventually sat up and checked his phone. There was a text from Jay that appeared on the screen.

jay 9:54pm

the party will be great

don’t worry too much, yeah?

Jungwon sighed and replied back.

jungwon 9:56pm

idk jay. i get it but is it really worth it

Jay quickly replied.

jay 9:56pm

stop talking like that.

of course it’s worth it.

now go to bed

jungwon 9:57pm

fine. goodnight jay

jay 9:57pm

night, won

Jungwon tossed his phone lighty back on the bed and stood up. He undressed and changed into shorts and a t-shirt before laying back down on his bed, curling up in his blanket before he put his phone on the charger and closed his eyes to gently drift to sleep. Maybe he should be happy about the party. It couldn’t be too bad, right? He hoped it wouldn’t be. Maybe it’ll be the best party ever, or it could be a terrible waste of everyone’s time. Nonetheless, it was a party, thrown in his favor by his bestest friends. It’d be good, for sure. Right?

✧✧✧

For the next several days, Jungwon didn’t hear a single thing about the party. Of course, he felt relieved at first, but after about the fourth day, he started to wonder—were they planning it without him completely? He knew he was against it, but he still wanted to be at least included in the planning. Well, it was a party for him so maybe it was a surprise. Nonetheless, he wanted to ask about it so that afternoon at the junkyard, he asked them. But they didn’t exactly give him an answer he could have expected.

“No, we haven’t been planning it since we don’t have a place to have it yet,” Sunghoon replied nonchalantly, playing a game on his phone. 

“Why?” Heeseung glanced over, “Do you know a place?”

Jungwon drooped his shoulders, “No, unfortunately,” he actually seemed sad about it, which quickly drew Jay and Jake’s attention as normally, Jungwon wouldn’t appear sad about something like this. He didn’t like public outings, or just parties in general, so it was new to see that Jungwon was actually sad to hear that the party wasn’t a-go.

Jake peaked over, “Well maybe we could have it at your neighbor’s,” it was a weird suggestion, and at first, Jungwon didn’t understand it until Sunghoon replied to Jake.

“Have the party at my missing neighbor’s house? Have you gone crazy?”

That’s where he knew. 

Mr Hwang was Sunghoon’s neighbor. He was an older man, white and gray hair with a balding spot right on the top of his head. He was a bigger fella, usually dressed in suits or more formal casual wear, and he was very nice to all the neighbors. He owned his own law firm, though he retired early and gave it to his eldest son. A few years back, he lost his wife to cancer, though still managed to still be kind to his neighbors and be active in the community. Since her passing, he’s advocated for many charities for cancer patients and families of late cancer patients. Sunghoon didn’t know him, but both of his parents did. His father, who he lived with primarily, knew Mr Hwang very well, so he was distraught to hear his friend had gone missing. As of today, it’s been about three months since he had gone missing, though despite that, Mr Hwang’s family still paid for the maids to keep his house clean unless he came back. They didn’t think he was kidnapped, but instead went off the grid for a trip. They hoped so, at least.

“No!” Jake said defensively, throwing his hands up in the air. “I think it’s a good idea! What time do those maids leave?” Jungwon had started to smile, but it faded quickly when Sunghoon started to shake his head profusely.

Sunghoon leaned off the rusted car hood, “No, no, no!” He said, waving his index finger around, “Not happening! We are not having the party at his house!”

Heeseung turned around, “I mean, it’s not a bad idea, Hoon,”

“No!” Sunghoon exclaimed, “The man is missing! We cannot have the party at a missing person’s house!”

“What kinda house is it?” Jay asked, intruding the conversation though the others were already nosy and listening in.

Sunghoon shook his head as he turned to Jay, “No, I’m not answering that—”

“Four bedroom mansion, two living rooms, three bathrooms, huge backyard with a maze and garden, large ass fountain in the front with a circular driveway,” Jake listed off loudly so Sunghoon couldn’t interrupt him anymore, “It’s the perfect house for a party!” 

It was definitely surprising how Jake knew that house so well despite never setting foot inside it, but it was easier to connect the dots on how Jake’s mother is a real estate agent and actually sold Mr Hwang that house just around the time Jake was born. 

Jake was originally born in Seoul, but because of his parents never marrying and breaking up before he was born, Jake’s mother stayed in Seoul and Jake went to live with his father in Brisbane. However, when he had just turned 9, he and his older brother moved to Seoul to stay with his mother. There, that same day, he met Jay and Jungwon and have been close with them ever since. Later, of course, he met the others and became close with them also.

Sunghoon glared, “How the hell do you know that?”

Jake shook his head, “Doesn’t matter—Like I was saying, it’s the perfect place to have a party. We can just sneak in after the maids leave and have it there! Say, Sunghoon, do you know what time the maids leave?”

“What? Why would I know that?” Sunghoon crossed his arms, “. . . 8 o’clock.” He mumbled, but Jay smiled as big as a clown.

“Then we’ll have the party at 9!” Jake exclaimed cheerfully, throwing his hands into the air excitedly before pulling them down, squeezing his fasts as he shook like a happy puppy. It was a common occurrence, but it only ever got a kick out of the guys from how similar Jake was to a puppy. To Sunghoon, however, it was kind of concerning at that moment.

“But what if someone saw us?” asked Heeseung, “Wasn’t the guy big on no trespassers?”

Sunghoon pointed to Heeseung, “That is true. He was a nice guy unless you trespassed. He gets scary,” 

Jake scoffed, “You say that like he’s going to be there. Dude is M.I.A, and since your folks are so close with him, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a little party, right?” This was just brewing a disaster to happen, then he looked at Jungwon, “What do you say, Jungwon? Should we do it?”

Jungwon looked over at Jay, then at the others, then back at Jake. He hesitated before he let out a low sigh, “Sure. We can do it,” and as the others began to cheer, Jungwon interrupted, “But hey! If I want it to end, then we end it, okay?”

There’s a few ‘okay’s and a couple ‘of course’s spread throughout the group, but Jungwon smiled and nodded before the group went back to cheering. Jungwon still felt a little out of place, but he actually started to feel excited. A whole party just for him. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, maybe this party would turn out better than he ever could have imagined it to be.

He sure hoped so.

That evening, Jungwon spent most of his time studying rather than eating or talking to anyone. He left his phone on his bed as he sat at his desk, working on Literature work before he went to sleep that night. Of course, his moment of peace came to an end when a ringtone started to play instead of the music in his earbuds. He groaned and stood up, walking over to his bed to grab his phone.

He slid the answer button on the screen and held the phone up to his ear. “What do you want?”

“Jeez, could you be a little nicer?” It was Jake. “I just wanted to see what you were up to,”

“You sound like my grandma,” Jungwon laughed, earning a laugh from Jake as well, “But seriously. You never call. What’s up?”

A strong statement, but Jake knew it was true. “Well . . . about the party . . .”

“Again? I thought you guys planned it out today at the junkyard?” Jungwon sat back down at his desk, his elbows propped up on it. 

Jake was quiet for a second. “We still have everything planned out. Nothing’s changed, it’s just . . . We’re just worried you won’t have fun,”

Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows, “What are you talking about? Of course I’ll have fun. It’s a party, Jake.” There was an obvious tone in Jungwon’s voice that convinced Jake that even Jungwon wasn’t so sure how he felt about the party. He started to feel bad.

“Well I know that but still. You weren’t very big on the idea and we don’t want it to just waste your time,”

“It’s not going to waste my time,” Jungwon reassured the other, though his voice was using a bland tone so Jake wasn’t all that convinced by it, “What is wasting my time, however, is talking to you while I have homework to do.”

“Homework? Is that Jay’s new nickname?”

“Haha, very funny,” Jungwon replied sarcastically, “There’s nothing going on between us. You guys are just sick in the head,”

“I doubt that.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes, “Night Jake,”

“Night,” and the call hung up.

It wasn’t a new thing that the guys would tease Jungwon and Jay for how close they were, but they always denied everything because there was really nothing going on. It was just a harmless joke, though he’d be a liar if he said he’s never wondered about it. But everyone questions their identities so he didn’t worry about it too much. The jokes never bothered either of them, so they just let it happen.

After the call ended, Jungwon thought it was best he went to bed anyway. He was pretty tired and honestly, he didn’t like staying up too late, especially on a school night. Did that make him sound like an old person? Not that that was a bad thing. He liked being old, even though he was the second youngest of all his friends—which is kinda strange that he acts older than the others sometimes. Everyone had their own little quirks, so it didn’t bother him much. Nothing really ever did, actually. He didn’t let things bother him, or at least he didn’t show that it did. He didn’t like being seen as weak, even though he wouldn’t be, but that was just how he felt.

He didn’t worry about the party as much as he did before. He knew it could either be great or a total bust, but either way, he’d still be spending it with his best friends. 

So what’s the worst that could happen?

✧✧✧

The party was set for that weekend, which couldn’t have come quick enough. For once, Jungwon was actually excited for something in his honor. Things were turning out good—the only issue being sneaking out and then sneaking into the mansion. He didn’t like sneaking out, or the idea of it, at all. He was a rule follower, though he’d rather not ever admit that. All his friends had everything to lose—cars, riches, popularity, reputation . . . while Jungwon had nothing to lose, except his grandmother and his friends. But that never seemed to drag them down, not even Niki. He thought maybe he wouldn’t feel so different since he and Niki’s families and upbringings were similar, but Niki was just like them, maybe even worse than them at times. But Jungwon didn’t like to break rules, skip class, or even be late on turning in an assignment. He wanted things to just go smoothly, while the others lived more in the moment. Of course it made him feel isolated, but he knew he wouldn’t feel like himself if he tried to be more like them. Besides, they always understood and included him so he would never feel left out. But still, he’d feel different because he knew he was.

On Saturday, Jungwon got dressed for the party. He wore black pants, a black jacket over a black Madonna shirt, and some black Converse. He thought he looked a bit ‘emo,’ but he was sure the others would dress more casually anyways so he didn’t worry too much about how he appeared. He put on deodorant and sprayed some cologne, though some got in his mouth which made him cough really hard for a minute. He cleared his throat and grabbed his phone off the bed. He shoved it into his pocket before finally turning to the door and opening it as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to wake his grandmother up if she was already asleep. Once it was opened up enough, he stepped into the hallway and headed to the front door. There, she was sitting in the living room watching TV again, like she usually did. 

“Where are you off to?” She asks with a chirping voice, nosy but with a gentle smile. 

“Oh I’m,” he had to think of something quick, “going to stay at Jay’s for the night. Is that okay?” He raised his eyebrows, hoping she said that was okay — though he’d go either way, but he wished he wouldn’t have to sneak out — but he was relieved once her smile grew bigger.

“Of course, just make sure you’re safe, okay?” She gestured for him to come closer so he obliged and she brought him into a hug, “I love you, grandson. Be careful, and tell Jay I say hi.”

Jungwon smiled as he pulled back, “I will. I’ll be back tomorrow,” he bowed and turned away, heading out the door to see that Jay had just pulled into the driveway. His Dodge Charger was cleaner, sharper than ever. He must’ve cleaned it earlier.

Jay unlocked the doors, letting Jungwon get into the passenger seat, like always. “You ready?” He asks, looking over at the younger boy.

Jungwon nodded, “I think so,” 

“Yeah?” and Jungwon nodded again. “Jake said he’s still worried you might not be,” he looked back as he started to reverse and back out of the driveway. Jungwon drew his brows together.

“Why?”

Jay shrugged. “I think it has to do with you usually not liking parties. But this one will be good,”

Jungwon agreed, “I know. I’m excited,”

The older one smiled. “I’m glad to hear that,” he pushed the stick into drive and started to drive down the street, leaving Jungwon’s grandmother’s house and heading out to the mansion.

It was only a quarter past 8 so the maids and staff had all left by then. They were the first ones there, parking out in the back instead of the large, round driveway in front of the mansion. Jake and Sunghoon were already there, using Jake’s car, but the others had yet to arrive as well. It didn’t take long for them to, so the group headed to the mansion’s giant double doors. Sunghoon took a key out of his pocket, one he had taken from his parents, to unlock the door. They apparently had a key to Mr Hwang’s house which Sunghoon didn’t know about until just an hour ago.

Jake was the first to run in. “Oh shit!” He exclaims, “This place is huge!”

White walls, marble flooring, At the end of the entrance hallway, was a gigantic room, staircases on either side as you entered it. There was a kitchen to his left, a living room where he stood, and a foosball table to his right. Jake was in awe, but so were the others.  Above the kitchen area was the upstairs corridor that reached over to above where the guys had just come from, a fence blocking the edge though anyone could stand up there and look down into the first floor easily. 

“Would you be quiet?” Jay hushed him quickly, “What if someone’s still here?”

“No one is here,” said Niki, “No cars are here except ours. We are totally alone,” but that didn’t sound too appealing to Jungwon.

Heeseung stood by the kitchen. “Alright, can we get this party going? We said 9, right?”

Jungwon intruded. “Wait, are other people coming?”

Jake scoffed, “Duh,” he laughs, “it’s a house party, Jungwon. Of course loads of people will be here to celebrate you,” then he became quiet, “Wait, you’re okay with that right?”

Sunghoon glared, “You didn’t ask—” 

“I forgot!” Jake whisper-shouted at the other before turning back to Jungwon. “If it’s not okay, I can send out a mass-text saying we canceled it.”

“What about Lydia?” Jay suddenly asked, which caused Jake to become inhumanly pale. 

Sunoo stared for a moment, “Why do you look like a ghost?” He suddenly berates the older, “Is this Lydia girl a friend of yours?” 

“Y-Yeah,” Jake scratched the back of his neck, “but it’s nothing. We’re just friends,”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, “He invited her personally before inviting everyone else, then bought snacks that only she likes,” he told the others before he smirked at Jake, “He’s practically in love with her.”

“I am not!” Jake denied it immediately. “We are just friends! That’s it!” He flailed his hands around defensively, which wasn’t helping his case. Sunghoon judged but let out a laugh before turning around to Jay to talk to him as Jungwon stood by Sunoo.

“Jay, you seeing anyone?” Jungwon hears Sunghoon eventually ask Jay, but he averts his eyes and keeps talking with Sunoo, though he did his best to try and hear what Jay said in return. However, that was cut short when Heeseung walked into the kitchen, opened what he thought was the pantry, but instead found a huge wine cellar. “Guys!” Heeseung calls out for them, “He’s got a wine cellar!”

Sunoo turned and rolled his eyes, “God why do so many of them act younger than us sometimes?” He mutters to Jungwon, though the other wasn’t paying any attention. Again, lost in his thoughts, Jungwon had started to zone out and wonder how tonight was going to go. He hoped it would go well, but that wasn’t always promised.

“They have apple cider!?” Jake’s sudden shouting knocked Jungwon out of his head, returning him to reality — though he kind of wished he was in bed at home right now. 

An arm wrapped around his shoulders, pushing him forward a bit but he caught himself, though a grip on his arm latched on for a moment or two. He turned his head and saw Jay standing there beside him, side-hugging him but not letting him go. It felt nice.

“You sure you want this party?” Jay whispered to him, “We can go home if you want,” it’s almost like he could read his mind. 

Jungwon nodded, “I’m okay. It’ll be fun,” he tried to sound hopeful, “Relax,” it was obvious that Jay was worried about him then. His eyebrows were furrowed and drew in together, creasing upwards and revealing worry-lines on his cheeks and his forehead. It was very easy to read Jay, especially whenever he’s mad. His jaw would protrude and his teeth would grit while usually tightening a fist or yelling out something, then he’d touch the side or back of his head as he tried to calm down. 

Jay shook his head, “Y’know I can’t do that,” he remarked, but Jungwon smiled.

“Just try,” Jungwon said, “for me?”

Jay looked over at Jungwon, but it felt different. His eyes sparkled in a way he never noticed they did before, but nonetheless, before Jungwon could say anything else, Jay looked away and nodded. “I’ll do my best,” he replied, and then a smile appeared on his face. Jungwon didn’t catch this, but while he wasn’t looking, Jay mouthed the words ‘for you’ as he smiled. It was like second nature for the others to notice how close the two were, but it was surprising how neither of them had realized what lies behind what they believe about themselves.

Sunoo grabbed one of the bags that Jake was carrying and took out the lights. He started to hang them around the room with Jake, while Sunghoon started to put out the snacks and drinks in the kitchen, eventually asking Jay to help him. Heeseung then went up to Jungwon and asked him to accompany him as they checked the rest of the house out. Obliging, Jungwon and Heeseung went upstairs and looked around. There was a bathroom, two guest bedrooms, and the master bedroom and its own bathroom. There were a couple closets and another living room area, along with a door that led up to the attic. They didn’t really snoop around, only really peaking into each other before doing the same for the downstairs rooms. It was a really nice house, Jungwon felt pretty jealous. Heeseung didn’t seem that impressed, but his house was much bigger than Mr Hwang’s, same as Jay and Jake’s houses. Sunghoon’s was about the same, while the others’ had smaller houses. Niki had a house just like Jungwon’s—a one story, three bedroom house with two bathrooms and a small backyard. Jungwon’s was only a two bedroom house, but they lived on the same block. Niki had offered to take Jungwon to and from school plenty of times, but Jungwon would always tell him to not worry about it. It was then that Niki realized just how close Jungwon and Jay were, but he didn’t judge them. 

Back in the main room, it was 5 til 9 and a couple cars had just pulled into the driveway. Jake and Jay had run out there to figure out where people would park, while the others finished setting up for the party. At 9 exactly, everything was done. There were lights that hung from the upstairs corridor, hanging into the main room, glowing beautiful colors and brightening up the room. The speakers started to play this playlist Jake had made for the party, starting with Already Best Friends by Jack Harlow and Chris Brown.

The front doors open and people start to slowly pour in, some holding beer and others just cheering for the party. Heeseung and Sunghoon always threw the best parties, but it was always Jake and Jay who made it worth everyone’s while. Jungwon sat on the couch, drinking fruit punch in a red cup (just like the movies) as he waited for Jay and Jake to come back inside. It was going to be a while, but the others were too busy getting the party started to notice him sitting alone. He didn’t mind it, however. He knew they were busy so he didn’t mind. 

He was used to it.

✧✧✧

Sunoo never liked loud noises, especially blasting music. He was probably the only one that agreed with Jungwon that they shouldn’t have a party, but only because he didn’t like how loud parties could be. He still believed Jungwon’s achievement should be celebrated, just not with a party like this. Not that Jungwon didn’t deserve it, because he did. Sunoo just didn’t like loud things. It was just that simple.

He never liked loud spaces, that was obvious about him. He liked being in quieter, even dead silent rooms where you could hear a pin drop. The others mostly thought it was weird, though Sunghoon and Jay kinda agreed but they didn’t like it all the time, not like Sunoo.

Now, as he sat alone in this one room, apart from everyone else, he drank his fruit punch out of his glass—which he took from the wine glass cabinet because he felt more obligated to do so than the others—and sat in this chair by a short table. He messed with the bracelet on his wrist some, it was one his older sister made for him when they were little. There was no door to this room, which he thought was weird because it had a bed inside it. Maybe it was a guest room, he wasn’t sure.

It was kind of stupid of him to assume he’d be able to stay alone as Niki came into the room and sat beside him, panting like he had been partying for hours on end. His once very combed hair was now messy, almost like a bed-head, and his eyes were narrow, but maybe it was because this room was so much more dim than the other rooms. Sunoo thought the younger boy looked funny, so he chuckled. “Having fun?” He teases.

Niki gives him a glare. “More than you are, apparently,” he remarks, “What are you doing in here?”

“What does it look like?” Sunoo took a sip of his glass, “I’m relaxing.”

“You can’t relax at a party,” Niki replied quickly, “Unless it’s with weed.”

Sunoo scoffed, “You’re such an addict,” 

But Niki didn’t think it was funny. “I’m not an addict. I don’t smoke that often anyways. Not like— Like—” He struggled to name anyone else, though once he did, his voice got louder, “Like Jake or Sunghoon! They smoke so much the neighbors think something’s burning.”

That wasn’t true. Jake and Sunghoon only socially smoked, though that may just be as bad as a smoke or two every other day. Niki smoked a couple times throughout the week, really to keep his mind off things and not to worry so much. His carefree side, really, though he’d never admit to anyone how much better he feels when he’s high. He doesn’t like to be called an addict, he doesn’t like to be unintentionally compared to his father. 

The older raised his eyebrow, “Don’t they only smoke at parties?”

“Hell if I know,” Niki sat back in his chair, “I just don’t smoke that much. Plus, anyways we have to be careful. You know how Jungwon feels about this kind of shit,” 

“I love Jungwon to death, but are you really letting how he feels about shit, dictate how you go on about your life? You sound like a kiss-ass,” it was abundantly clear how blunt Sunoo was, though Niki was used to it. He was Sunoo’s oldest friend. 

“I’m not a kiss-ass, wise-ass,” He remarked back at Sunoo, “and for your information, I don’t smoke that much, not because of Jungwon, but because of Jay.”

“What difference does that make?”

“Jungwon swore it off because of shit he won’t tell us, but Jay quit smoking and I try to stay respectful of that. He’s worked hard,” Niki explained, then he turned, “How dare you call me a kiss-ass.”

Sunoo shrugged, “If the shoe fits,” 

Niki rolled his eyes. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Niki looked over, though Sunoo was staring at his glass, almost dissociated.

He was quiet for a moment, before he parted his lips and let out a quick sigh before looking over at Niki. “What really happened with your parents this time?”

Niki looked away. “I told you. It was the smoking,” which kind of contradicted his earlier statement about how little he smokes, but that wasn’t what Sunoo caught on about it.

“Oh to hell with that—Your parents are addicts, how could they be pissed about you smoking when they were cooking up meth in the kitchen your whole life.” It was such a blunt way to describe it, and it sure as hell caught Niki off guard. Though, he knew Sunoo was right.

Niki’s parents were addicts, former meth-chefs, though still, very much addicts. They’d get onto Niki for everything under the sun, which is why he always ran away or got kicked out, though it wasn’t long until he’d move right back in again. He’s learned to cope with it, though it’s always thrown in his face for how much of a “failure” he was, despite the obvious factors of how Niki was one of the only two people who got a scholarship to such a prestigious private academy, but of course, his parents never gave a damn about it, or even Niki for that matter. The others felt bad for him, but Niki couldn’t care less. He didn’t care about them anymore than they cared about him. He only ever went back to them because of his siblings. If he could take them with him, he would in a heartbeat. But they’d never leave their parents. He knew that too well.

“I don’t know, they’re fucking weird,” Niki answered, “I never know what they’re going to do or say next. You think you’d know that by now, after the countless amount of times I’ve had to stay with you or Jake over the last year alone.”

Sunoo stared at him. “My house will always be a home to you, but you need to straighten things out with your parents. Either make amends, or move the hell out. Emancipate, even.”

Niki scoffed, “You really think they’d let me emancipate myself? You’re hilarious.”

“Look, it’s not a bad idea,” Sunoo told him, and he softened his voice before he spoke again in a whisper, “I just want you safe.”

The other sighed and turned his head away. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow. Okay?”

Sunoo reached over his hand with his pinky pointed out, “Promise?”

Niki groaned and he hooked his pinky with Sunoo’s, “Promise.”

Sunoo pulled back, “Good. Now that that’s settled, could you get me more fruit punch?” He basically shoves the glass into Niki’s hand before he could even answer. Niki rolled his eyes and nodded before he stood up and headed out of the room, leaving Sunoo alone once again.

✧✧✧

Outside, Jay and Jake were helping the cars find places to park without absolutely destroying Mr Hwang’s yard. Thankfully, nobody had to. Eventually, Jay told Jake to head inside and get the party started while he finished up helping all the cars. After a while, the last car parked so Jay took a second to recuperate before returning to the party. He took out a lollipop, sticking it into his mouth and throwing the wrapper away in the outside trash can before walking in through the garage. Inside the house, he walked down a long, red-lit hallway, people scattered along the way. Most of them greeted him, some even dabbed him up. Everyone knew Jay. If you didn’t, well, you probably just weren’t as cool as everyone else then. Kidding—but seriously, everyone knew Jay, like everyone knew Heeseung, and Sunghoon, and all the rest of them. Even not knowing Jungwon was a surprise, but it’d be hard not to know him if you already knew Jay. They were basically attached at the hip.

At the end of the hall, right where the room blends into the center room, Jay sees Heeseung standing against a pillar, talking to some girl Jay didn’t recognize. In the corner of his eye, Heeseung sees the other and waves him over. Jay, hesitantly, obliges, though he greets the girl first with a quick bow, then a dab-up with Heeseung. The girl eventually walked away, but before Jay could say anything, Heeseung turned to him first.

“You seen Jungwon?” 

“No, I’ve had other priorities,” Jay was quick to respond, which was pretty normal. Though, his demeanor changed. “Why? Is something wrong with him?” There was a quick pause in his breath, a shift in his eyes. Heeseung always noticed it, but the others never believed him. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Heeseung lightly shoved Jay playfully, “Calm down, man.” He teased, but it didn’t feel like a joke—or at least that it was taken that way. He looked over and saw some of the others standing near the center of the room, “Come on, we need to get wasted,” 

Jay smiled then, and the two walked over to the others, arms around each other, as if they were already tipsy, though all they’ve had was fruit punch. They all stand in a circle, but the only person that’s missing is—“Where’s Jungwon?” Jay questioned the others.

Sunoo spoke up first, “I think he’s in the bathroom.”

“It’s a little too loud in here,” Jake commented, “Should we celebrate in another room?” The room was crowded, loud, and very bright. “It might make it easier for Jungwon,”

Sunghoon nodded, “Good idea. And Niki, would you be careful with the cake please?” He remarks at the younger, earning a sour look from the boy.

“I’m careful!” He says just before his shoe scoots against the floor, almost making him trip. He gathers himself and clears his throat, “I’m careful,” he repeats to Sunghoon before walking out into the dining room with the others following behind him. The cake was chocolate with vanilla icing, red whipped cream, and one single red and white candle on top. It was empty in that room, only a china cabinet or two inside, with a large round dining table with seven seats exactly. Niki sets the cake right in the middle, and the others take their seats, leaving one empty seat right in front of the windows for Jungwon to sit in. 

It took a minute before Jungwon made his way to the room, taking his seat with a big smile plastered on his face. Like a clown. He took his seat, still smiling as he scooted it closer to the table. Heeseung lit the candles with Niki’s lighter, though it didn’t even pass Jungwon’s mind about the reason why Niki had a lighter, but that was because he was just so enraptured by the cake in front of him. After a count of ten from his friends, Jungwon blew out the candles and the others clapped. For a moment, Jungwon wished time would stop and that he could stay right there forever. Timeless, almost. 

What struck him out of his thoughts was a sudden sound from behind him, he turned back as the others continued to talk. It sounded like something, a rock maybe, was thrown at the edge of the window, it didn’t hit the glass, he thought, it would’ve been easier to recognize. When he turned back to the others, he realized he was the only one who had heard it, which almost convinced him that he was crazy. Almost.

“Jeez, this party’s getting out of control,” Heeseung comments under his breath when the room gets suddenly quiet after a bunch of yelling is heard from the other room. 

“Would it be bad to say that the punch was spiked?” Sunghoon suddenly asked, earning a weird look from everyone else. “What?” He leaned back, “I didn’t know until just now,” he says as he sips on his drink.

Jay stared. “If it’s spiked then why are you still drinking it?”

Sunghoon glanced at him before looking at his cup for a good minute. “It’s good,” he shrugged and continued to drink it. 

Heeseung rolled his eyes, “Anyways. Let’s get back to the party. Hey, Jake, maybe your girlfriend’s here!”

Jake turned to him quickly. “No, she’s not!” Then he cleared his throat, “And she’s not my girlfriend.” He corrected the older, but he just laughed. 

“Whatever you say, Jake,” and the group rose from their seats and started to leave the room. Jungwon stayed behind and cut his cake, though he wasn’t alone for long. Jake actually stayed behind and sat beside Jungwon, cutting himself a piece as well and eating it with him. Jungwon and Jake were pretty close as well, he was the second one who Jungwon had met, with Jay being the first (obviously). They always got along more than Jay and Jungwon did, since they would always bicker like a married couple yet spend every waking day together (again, like a married couple—hence the teasing). 

In a long list of ways, Jake was a lot like Jay. There were more differences than similarities, but even the similarities appeared more than the differences ever could. Jay was more concluded, to himself and away from most people, while Jake was way more outgoing, he liked to socialize and get along with people, it made him feel included. But despite how talkative Jake could be, when he stopped talking, it usually meant he didn’t want to talk anymore. That was another thing that made him and Jay so alike. They both would just stop talking, almost like they were raised by the same trauma-ridden parents, but they both had such a perfect lives, except the split between their parents—which they both basically bonded over. 

With a mouth full of cake, Jungwon turned to Jake and asked him, “Why are you in here with me?” His voice was muffled, but Jake weirdly understood him clearly.

“Why would I leave you alone at your own party?” Jake took another bite, “Plus this cake is the absolute shit,” 

“Yeah, but everyone else left.”

“They’re lonely and want to seem like they get bitches so they get bitches. Or at least, Sunghoon and Heeseung do that. Sunoo couldn’t care less, Niki is probably—” He cut himself off, trying not to just outright say that Niki was probably smoking, knowing how Jungwon felt about smoking, though he’s known about Niki’s smoking for almost a week now, “—hanging with Jay who is probably standing by a wall trying to act like he’s all tough and shit,”

Jungwon shrugged, “Maybe,” and he took another bite. 

Jake hummed. “You alright?”

Jungwon nodded.

“You sure? You seem kinda off, Won.”

“I’m fine,” Jungwon replied, “I think I’m just tired.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No, no,” Jungwon shook his head, “I don’t want to ruin the vibe,”

Jake raised his eyebrow, “Ruin what vibe? It’s a party,”

“Yeah, a party for me,” The younger said, “I can’t just leave. What about the guys? They’re having fun, and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” said Jake, “Don’t force yourself to stay here for them. I can take you home,”

But Jungwon shook his head, “No, no, it’s okay, I promise. It’s just a little overwhelming but I’m fine. It’s okay in here,” he glances around, then he looks back at Jake, “Don’t you want to join them?”

Jake shrugged, “Partying has never really been my thing,” then he sipped on his water, “And I’m kinda waiting on Lydia to get here first,”

“And you’re not dating?”

A pink color flushed across Jake’s cheeks, “Trying to.”

Jungwon looked over at him almost immediately, “So you do like her!”

“Well duh,” Jake laughed, “She’s beautiful, and kind, and smart and funny,” there was a curving smile on his lips, one that wasn’t going to go away for hours, “I just didn’t want to tell the guys just yet,”

“Why? They won’t make fun of you,”

“Yeah but they’re so lonely,”

Jungwon laughed, “True, very true,”

Jake looked at the clock on the wall, “It’s only been forty minutes since the party started? I swear it’s been hours,” he comments. Jungwon shrugs in response. “It’s only 9.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jungwon says, leaning back in his chair, “Today’s been slow as hell.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jake shrugged. “You sure you’re alright?”

Jungwon nodded, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

But Jake didn’t say anything. That meant the conversation was over.

✧✧✧

After three drinks that felt like seven, Jay found himself stumbling into the master bedroom. He didn’t know how he made it all the way up the stairs, nor did he even remember if he did or not, but his thoughts faded as he lay on the bed, plopping down like he had given up. His alcohol tolerance was usually higher, but today just felt so weird. He didn’t feel like himself. Did someone spike the alcohol? Can someone actually do that? So many questions were racing through his mind. But his head was pounding, he couldn’t think clearly.

The master bedroom was painted a light blue, not exactly baby blue, but around it. It had white borders halfway up the walls. The furniture was antique, though the bed-frame looked straight out of an episode of Bridgerton. It was almost too fancy for Jay’s liking. Not that his opinion mattered, this wasn’t his house, though maybe it didn’t belong to anyone anymore.

There, on the bed, Jay sunk into the mattress. He felt so cozy, enough to drift asleep at any moment. But his stomach started to ache so he sat up and walked over to the bathroom quickly, fast enough to make it in case he threw up, but the pain faded after a moment or two and he leaned against the closed bathroom door, still standing in the bedroom. His eyes glanced around the room more, noticing more and more. There was not a single photo hanging up, except one that sat on the dresser. Curiously, he walked over to it and grabbed it. 

It was a photo of Mr Hwang and his wife. She was beautiful, but stupidly, he started to wonder why he hadn’t seen any other photos around the house. Why was it just this one? It was just a photo of them together in front of the house, it may have been special to them but was it special enough to only have this one sitting out? Not a single wedding photo, family portrait—he had kids—nothing at all, except that one. Jay didn’t understand. But it wasn’t his business.

Of course, he didn’t care, so he started to snoop. In the dresser, there weren’t any clothes at all. Instead, there were notebooks, letters, photos (some framed, some not), with an insane amount of torn up pieces of old photos thrown all over the inside of the drawer, but what caught his eye the most was an amulet, a crimson-colored ruby in the middle, embroidered with pure silver with Ochiul Lui Lucifer was engraved into said silver. It was beautiful, so mesmerizing. As Jay was drunker than a homeless guy on New Year's Eve, he put the amulet around his neck and went to look at himself in the mirror. There, he stood in the bathroom, admiring himself as he smelt of booze, but he couldn’t care less. He was, in fact, too drunk to care. 

“Jay! Where are you?!”

He heard Sunghoon call in the distance. Jay quickly hid the medallion behind his shirt and headed out of the room. The silver was cold against his bare chest, but after a moment, it became warm. He met with Sunghoon in the corridor, who immediately asked him how much he had to drink, and when he gave him the honest answer of 3, Sunghoon shook his head and called him a liar under his breath, hoping that Jay was too drunk to hear him. 

Just like before, his stomach started to turn again, but it didn’t hurt. It just felt so weird, and his muscles started to strain, his eyes becoming watery. He stopped walking suddenly, Sunghoon stopped too and helped him stand up straight. “Dude,” he started to say, “Did you have too much to drink?” He knew the answer, yet he still asked.

But Jay shook his head, “N-No, I’ve only had three drinks, I told you. I just—” He shuddered, “I feel sick.” 

Sunghoon tried to lean away as he helped Jay down the steps, “Keep your vomit inside until I get at least 50 feet away from you, will you?” Though Jay didn’t reply aloud, he nodded and that helped Sunghoon feel a little better, despite his fear of being vomited on still growing with each groan Jay let out as they walked. 

In the center room, the others were all spread across the room, talking with either each other or other people, though it was quick for Jungwon to notice the terribly drunken Jay being held up by Sunghoon. He headed over to them, Sunoo following him, then Niki and then Heeseung and Jake. 

“Is he okay?” Jungwon asks, “Are you okay?” He places his hand on Jay’s bicep, his thumb rubbing itself against his sleeve, trying to get his attention, yet he hadn’t realized that he already had all of it. Always did. 

“I’m fine,” Jay forced himself to stand upright, ignoring the sharp pain in his stomach that only grew worse and worse. The look on Jungwon’s face didn’t change, though it shifted a bit as his eyebrows started to crease, knotting together. He knew that look. “I’m okay,” but it was a lie, it was clear as day. He wasn’t okay at all, and Jungwon knew that. There was no way he didn’t. It was almost second nature to him, Jungwon could read Jay like a book, the same way Jay could read him. Sometimes, you would think the two knew more about each other than what they know about themselves. To them, that wasn’t true, but to everyone else, it was their reality.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jungwon remarked, quite loudly actually, “How much did you have to drink?”

“Three cups, that’s it.” 

“Jay.”

“Only three!” But just as he exclaimed that, that sharp pain came back, worse this time. He folded and clutched his stomach tight, “I feel so sick,” He grumbled. Jungwon held him up, he practically flew into him the moment he started to clutch his stomach. “I want to go home,” his voice was quiet, soft, breaking as his eyes turned shiny. He swore he felt his heart break.

“Stop the party,”

“What?” Heeseung perked his head up, and the others all turned to Jungwon.

“I said, stop the party,” he repeated, his voice clear, stern. Jake didn’t hesitate.

Jake headed over to the kitchen, turning off the music from his phone before he got onto the island and stood there, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright, I’m sorry to break it to you all, but we gotta cut this party short tonight. We’ll have another soon, but we have a bit of an emergency so it’s for the best that we put a stop to this party now and continue it later on.”

There were a bunch of groans and boo’s, but everyone pretty much left. The place was a bit of a mess, not too bad since the party had only really lasted an hour. Jake walked over to the others again as most of them were sitting on the couches, “Sunghoon and Jungwon, could you guys take Jay home? The rest of us can hang out here and clean up,”

But Jay shook his head, “No, n-no, I can’t get up,” he stuttered, shuddering and rubbing his arms. Was he cold? But it felt so hot in there. He was leaning against Jungwon, trying to keep himself sitting up but he was struggling. “I feel so bad,”

“Should we call an ambulance?” Sunoo asked, “This sounds serious, guys.”

“What’s even more serious is staying a night in jail for underage drinking,” said Sunghoon, “We are not calling an ambulance.”

“Why not? We have bail-out money,” said Heeseung.

Niki scoffed, “So you have bail-out money, but not rent-a-venue money so we just had to have a party in a house that belongs to a family friend of Sunghoon’s? Who—I might add—has been missing for two months now?” He remarked at the others, folding his arms as he leaned back against his chair. Sunoo, beside him, shrugged in agreement.

Jake sighed, “Let’s not get off track. What are we doing then, Jay?”

Jay took a minute to reply. “We could just stay here tonight,” 

Jungwon nodded, “Yeah, maybe he can sleep whatever this is off and we can get out of here before dawn tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Sunghoon added, which confused the others. When nobody said anything and all of them just stared at him, Sunghoon furrowed his eyebrows. “The maids are off on Sundays, they won’t be here until Monday.”

“Alright so we stay here tonight and clean the house tomorrow and be out of here by tomorrow night?” Jake described what seemed to be the perfect plan. Everyone nodded in agreement. “Let’s get our beds set up and we’ll go ahead and get to sleeping. Jay can sleep on the couch and Niki, I’m going to assume you’re sleeping in that chair?”

Niki stared at him, “Does it look like I’ll be leaving this chair anytime soon?”

Jake blinked, “Okay it was a question, don’t be rude,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be back, I’ll go get some of the bedding from the bedrooms,” and he headed off. Jungwon stood up from the couch and helped Jay carefully lay down fully on the couch, placing one of the throw pillows beneath his head. The others settled in quickly, all falling asleep to the quietness of the house that once echoed with loud music and consistent talking. Now, you could hear a pin drop. It was so calming, so peaceful, but as Jungwon lay on the floor beside the couch, with a part of him scared Jay might turn over and just puke on him, but the other part of him worried for him. He hoped he was okay, that this was all just a bad reaction to alcohol. He hoped, more than anything, that tonight would not end with losing him.

✧✧✧

An hour passed. Everyone was asleep. The house was cold, but the blankets were so thick, even Jungwon felt hot. But he still slept peacefully, like everyone else. They all slept in that center room, most of them on the floor, which they didn’t mind, but it was about 10 and yet Jay had woken back up. He was usually a deep sleeper, but his stomach hurt so bad, he was surprised he even fell asleep at all. He sat up on the couch, the pain traveling up to his chest. For a moment, there was clarity where the pain had stopped, but then it came back, worse this time, causing him to gasp and grab his chest. Then, the pain stopped, but he felt different, yet he felt the same as he’s always been. Confused, he shook his head but stood up from the couch. He thought he would take a walk around the house to clear his mind. 

When he got up, however, his mind wandered and his heart slowed. He didn’t know what that was, but he stumbled for a second, causing him to slightly bump into Sunoo who slept beside Jungwon. Once Jay had left the center room and entered the kitchen, that was when Sunoo woke up himself and got up. He made sure he didn’t wake up anyone when he did. Curiously, he went to follow Jay, but when he got there, Jay wasn’t there. Though still filled with curiosity and now worry, Sunoo walked through the hallway that was connected to the kitchen. It was dark, only the dim kitchen light slightly reflected into the room. At the end of the hallway, the bathroom light was on, and the door was closed, but the outline still briefly shone into the hall. He stood in front of the door, raising his fist to knock. “Jay?”

“Just a minute,” he hears Jay say through the door. The sink runs for a minute, before it stops and the door opens. There, Jay stood and Sunoo’s face shifted. “What?”

“Are—” Sunoo cleared his throat, “Are you okay? Are you feeling better?”

Jay stepped out of the bathroom, “Yeah. Yeah, I think,” his voice sounded weird, “What are you doing up? Did you have to use the bathroom, too?”

Sunoo shook his head, “No, I just wanted to check on you,” he paused for a moment before he sighed, “Listen. I know things have been tough lately, and I know you didn’t want to talk about this kind of stuff,” he hadn’t realized the darkened expression that appeared on Jay’s face as he was talking, “but I’m always here for you, Jay. You’re one of my best friends and I—”

“What are you talking about?” Little Sunoo giggled as he sat in the sandbox with his older sister, “Why would the castle have only one knight? It’s a big castle,”

She rolled her eyes, “Well, what if one knight wanted to marry the princess?” She suggests, holding one of the knight figurines in her hand with the princess figurine in the other, “Couldn’t he do that?” 

Sunoo looked at her, confused, “But what about protecting the castle? What about the Queen? And the King?” He tightened the bracelet on his wrist a little since it kept getting caught on the figurines, but his sister didn’t seem to notice.

“They’ll be protected, but the princess needs to be protected, too.”

“She’s not being protected, she’s getting a husband.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” said Sunoo sharply, “Not all husbands protect their wives.”

His sister looked at him, her eyes shining with her broken heart. She didn’t expect him to say such a thing, not then, maybe not ever. But he was just a kid, he didn’t know any better.

It was nothing that Sunoo would have known about his sister’s future, or even the present then. His sister had always picked the wrong boy to fall in love with, not that it was ever her intention, but she never fought to leave them either. Sunoo cherished the bracelet she gave him with all his heart, he loved his sister so much. She was his best friend, his everything. But now, in the present days, they haven’t spoken in two years.

She furrowed her brows, “I don’t want to play this anymore,” she grabbed the toys and put them into his backpack. “Come on, let’s go play on the swings,” she reached her hand to him and he took it, hesitantly, before grabbing the backpack and heading over to the swings with his older sister as their mother watched from the bench, alone just like she always had been.

His words were cut short, one of Jay’s hands gripped his arm so tight, holding him there, captive in his grip, but the other held a knife, which had been stabbed into his abdomen, cutting the skin, spilling blood. He choked, grabbing onto Jay with tears pouring from his eyes, blood starting to spew from his mouth. 

“Jay,” he whispers, “W-What are you doing?” It was a stupid question, wasting what may be his last breaths on such a simple, unspecified question. But the older looked him in his eyes, a hint of red glowing in the dark brown, and Sunoo had never been more scared in his life. 

Jay, with a dark smile, leaned over and whispered softly, lowly, into Sunoo’s ear.

“I am becoming God.” 

✧✧✧

It was a squeak from a sneaker against a wooden floor that woke Jungwon up. It was distant, from another room, but he still heard it. He had always been a light sleeper, something he hated more than he ever enjoyed. He sat up, yawning. He looked around, but quickly noticed that both Jay and Sunoo were gone. He reached over to Sunghoon, shaking him awake. For a moment, he didn’t, but after a few more shakes, with some aggressive ones, Sunghoon eventually sat up and turned to Jungwon. “What? What could you possibly want?” He was definitely not a morning person. 

“Jay and Sunoo are gone,” Jungwon told him.

Sunghoon looked over at him, but he didn’t say anything. He quickly stood up and Jungwon did the same. Then, the two went on to find their friends while the others continued to sleep peacefully, without a single thought of worry in their little heads at all. 

Through the kitchen and down the hall, they couldn’t see a thing. Stupidly, they continued on until Jungwon stopped suddenly when a weird, quiet splash sound Sunghoon took out his phone and turned on the flashlight, but as it was pointing to the floor, the first thing they saw was a puddle of blood. 

Jungwon gasped but Sunghoon slowly raised his phone along the smeared blood down the hall, shining the flashlight up the wall at the end of the hallway, seeing what appeared to be their own friend, his hands and legs nailed to the wall, covered in his own blood. Crucified, perhaps. Beneath his hovering feet, a pentagram-like circle was drawn out on the floor, with what they could only assume was blood. It was literally like a ritual. Sunghoon dropped his phone at the sight of it, and Jungwon screamed, so loud, he screamed. 

The others woke up immediately, all jumping up and running to find whoever had just screamed, finding Jungwon and Sunghoon in the dark hallway. Heeseung flipped the light on, seeing the same as the others had seen before. 

“Sunoo . . .” Niki stepped back, his eyes widening. 

“What the fuck—” Heeseung pushed through the others, then he turned back and looked at Jungwon and Sunghoon. “What the fuck happened?”

Jungwon snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Heeseung, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t . . . I don’t know. I woke up because I heard something but Jay and Sunoo weren’t here so we went to find them a-and . . .” He hitched his breath, “Oh god.” He put his face into his hands and started to breathe heavily, “Do we call the police? What do we do?”

Heeseung nodded, “Yeah. We’ll call the police—”

The light suddenly shut off, it became pitch black again. They looked around frantically, while Heeseung tried to get back to the lightswitch to turn the lights back on. To his surprise, it didn’t work. The power had gone out.

“The power’s out,” Heeseung told the others, “Do you think this place has a backup generator?” He looked at Sunghoon specifically as he grabbed his phone off the ground and kept the flashlight on.

“There should be,” said Sunghoon, “Every house on this street has one. But we shouldn’t worry about that. We should leave before anyone else gets hurt,”

But as everyone starts heading out, Jungwon stops, “Wait, what about Jay? We have to find Jay,” but when the others didn’t say anything, Jungwon’s breath slowed before he took a deep breath, “Fine. If you won’t go look for him, then I’ll do it myself.”

“Like hell, you do,” Sunghoon stepped in front of him. “You’re not going alone. We’ll find him—together.”

Jungwon nodded, but then he turned back to Sunoo’s body and stepped closer to it. The others watched him, silently, but Niki stepped through them and walked up beside Jungwon. He reached up and untied the bracelet from Sunoo’s wrist and held it to his chest. “I’ll protect her,” he whispered, “Rest easy, my friend.” And he backed away. Jungwon stood there another moment before he did as well, following the others back into the center room. Sunghoon and Heeseung headed off to the front door to get help from the neighbors first while Jake and Niki tried to figure out where the generator was to the house since there was no basement.

Heeseung and Sunghoon quickly returned, however. Apparently all the outside doors were locked, even the door to the garage so there was no way they could get in there in case the generators were in there. The only outside door that was left unlocked was the back door.

“Are you saying we have to go out there?” Sunghoon questioned Niki, “Do you not realize what the hell is out there?”

Niki shook his head, “No, but please, please give us the insight, old wise one!” He mocked the older, groaning before he sat down in the chair, just like before. It may appear that Niki wasn’t that much affected by the death of Sunoo, but inside, Jungwon knew Niki was terrified, grieving their best friend without trying to worry the others. Niki never handled his emotions well, but today he did. Maybe it was a final toast to Sunoo. 

Jungwon stood behind the couch where Heeseung and Jake sat. Sunghoon stood in front of the four, trying to figure out a plan to get out of the house and get help. 

“In the backyard, there’s a maze. It leads out to the shed and the pool, and most likely, the generators are in the pool house,” Sunghoon explained to them, “As long as we get through the maze to turn the power back on, we can call the police and get the hell out of here.”

“Why the hell does this dude have a maze in his backyard?” Jake questioned Sunghoon, as if he had any idea.

“I don’t know! Rich people have weird shit!” An understatement, honestly.

“Okay wait, are we all going through the maze?” Jake asked, “Or are we splitting up?”

Niki scoffed, “What is this? Scooby-Doo?” 

Heeseung shrugged. “It’s not a bad idea,” he says, “Sunghoon and I can head out to the pool house, and you guys can keep looking for Jay?”

Jungwon nodded, and both Jake and Heeseung stood up. Niki sat for another minute before he took out the bracelet that belonged to Sunoo and he tied it around his wrist. Jungwon watched as the other three had already started to walk outside. When Niki got done tying it, he stood up and walked outside with Jungwon to join the others, not knowing what could be waiting for them, how this night might end, or more importantly, when they’ll know the truth.

The moon was full, bright and white. It looked bigger than usual, it almost filled the sky. Jungwon felt uneasy, the sight of his best friend’s body still living in his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He kept wondering, asking himself—Who could have done such a thing to another human being? It was so macabre, so bloody and violent. It was straight out a horror movie, and it did not help at all that it was his own best friend that turned out to be the victim. He couldn’t stop thinking about who may be next, who will be killed—no, slaughtered—next.

He hoped Jay hadn’t been killed, that he was okay, that he was only hiding. He wanted to call out for his friend, but they weren’t sure where the killer had gone. He didn’t want to lead the killer right to them, wherever they were. But he still hoped, wherever he was, that Jay was okay. 

Outside, the group stood on the back deck. Jungwon, Niki, and Jake all stood back as Heeseung and Sunghoon headed towards the tall, bush-wall maze, belonging to a man who’s been missing for months. Why did he let them do this party? We shouldn’t be here. We never should have come. Jake looked over at Jungwon and Niki, folding his arms. “Should we go look for Jay?” He asked.

Niki looked at the maze, “Shouldn’t we wait for them? What if the killer is out there? Or inside the house?” He glanced at Jungwon, “I’m sure Jay’s fine. He’s tough. Maybe he made it out and went to get help,” it was a suggestion, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was possible.

Jungwon lowered his head, but Jake stepped forward. “We’ll find him,” he looked over at Jungwon and smiled at him, “swear to it.”

He nodded. Niki turned to the house, “You think he’s in there?” 

Jake shrugged. “He’s smart. Maybe he did make it out and went to get help,”

Jungwon shook his head, “He would’ve come to tell us, or we would’ve at least heard the door. He has to be hiding somewhere,”

“Good point,” Jake agreed. 

Niki turned away. “What if he’s not . . .” He paused, a moment of silence that ached Jungwon’s heart more than he’s ever felt before, “What if he was killed, too?”

Jake shut him down quick, “Don’t say that. He could be alive,”

“But we can’t get our hopes up,” Jungwon intruded, lowering his head, “Shit happens.”

Jake started to frown, but Niki didn’t get it. “We still need to find him, even if that’s true, even if it’s not. We have to find—”

A screech of a man echoes through the maze, through the yard. Their heads turn like a reflex, eyes wide like a doll’s. Oh this was the end, Jungwon thought, but he knew he should never say it aloud. That scream was deafening, no doubt that it was Sunghoon, despite its higher pitch. But it was Heeseung. Heeseung was a quiet screamer, and it was weird that Jungwon knew that, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that tonight may just be their last. 

✧✧✧

“This was a terrible idea,” 

“Stop being dramatic,” said Heeseung, scoffing at his friend. 

Sunghoon clutched his chest, offended—“Dramatic? Our friend was murdered, our other friend is missing, and the killer is still out there, but I’m being dramatic? Yeah, okay.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, “You are just proving my point there, Hoon.” 

Half way through the maze, there was a fountain and two ways to go. Sunghoon huffed and turned to Heeseung, “Which way should we go?”

“Let’s split up,”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“God, Hoon—It’ll be fine.” Heeseung patted his shoulder, “I’ll go right and you go left, and if you get spooked, just find your way back to the fountain and go down my way. Okay?”

Sunghoon stared at him, but eventually nodded. “Okay.” 

Heeseung smiled, and the two parted ways. Heeseung had gone right like he said, walking through the maze as far as he could until eventually he made it to a two way stop again. He huffed, but went left for the hell of it. Unfortunately, he ended up at a dead end so he turned around to walk the other way when he stopped, seeing a figure in the distance. He could barely see his face, but he knew who it was. His breath hitched, a wave of relief washed over him when he saw it was only Jay, slowly walking towards him with a smile on his face. “Oh, Jay, thank god you’re okay,” Heeseung placed his hand on his chest, sighing, “Where’ve you been?”

“I was in the pool house,” said Jay, chuckling. “I got so scared. I didn’t know where to go. When Sunoo, I—” 

Heeseung shushed him, “I know, I know. I was actually coming to turn the power back on. Isn’t it weird they have a generator in the pool house?”

“Oh, it’s not in there,” 

“It’s not?” Heeseung cursed under his breath, “Do you know where it’s at?”

Jay shrugged, but it was still too dark to see him, he still stood far back from Heeseung. “Maybe the garage? Or a closet inside the house,”

Heeseung nodded, “You’re right. Let’s get Sunghoon and head back,” but Jay stopped him just as he started to walk. “What?” Heeseung furrowed his eyebrows. “What is it?”

Jay stared at him, and for a split second, Heeseung saw red flash in his eyes. Taken back, Heeseung draws his eyebrows together, but he doesn’t say anything. Jay didn’t say a word for a moment, but then the power turned back on, and so did the maze’s light posts with one being almost directly in between the two. There, Heeseung saw the blood that stained Jay’s clothes and skin. There, he realized that Jay was never hiding. Instead, he was the one they should have been hiding from this whole time. He was the killer. He killed Sunoo, his own friend, and by the cold look in his eyes, Heeseung knew his fate. He knew it too well.

“I do not like this,” 

Little Heeseung laughed, “Why? I think it’s fun,” he says, placing down another playing card onto the small pile, “Go fish.”

Little Sunghoon groaned, “You win,” he tossed the cards at Heeseung, “Again.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, “You’re such a cheater,”

“And you’re such a sore loser,” Heeseung chuckles, picking up the cards. Sunghoon stifled his laugh but didn’t say anything. Heeseung and Sunghoon were just little kids then, sitting on the floor as they played Go Fish while they waited to be picked up by their parents. Sunghoon’s parents were always in the back of the line because they didn’t like to come so early and wait for so long. 

Heeseung looked up and saw the teacher walk back into the building, wagging her finger at Sunghoon, mouthing his name to get his attention. He grabbed his backpack and stood up, holding onto one of the straps. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride home with me?”

The other nodded, “I’m okay,” he told him, “She’ll be here any minute,” he smiled. Sunghoon waved goodbye and left, while Heeseung sat alone, but this wasn’t nearly the first time at all. It was an understatement how neglectful his parents were, they always paid attention to his older brother and their jobs, never about Heeseung. He spent more time with the maid than he ever has with his mother. He hated it, but he’s gotten used to it.

That day, they never came. Again, not the first time. But it was the last time as Heeseung told Sunghoon about it the following day, as Sunghoon always asks how he got home and was completely appalled when Heeseung told him he walked all the way home by himself—again. Sunghoon then promised Heeseung that he would always have a home there with his family, but even then, Heeseung knew it wasn’t his home. His home was where his pain started, the neglectfulness of a parent that swore they loved him with all their heart. He learned to ignore it, move past it, make the best out of it, even if it still hurts. 

His home was nowhere to be seen, but he didn’t care. He was a kid, and even without a home, Heeseung was still happy. He had his friends, the people at school, he made good grades, he was happy. He knew he would have made his parents proud if they ever paid any attention to him. But Ms. Kwan, the maid, always told him how proud of him she was. Her opinion was the only one that ever mattered to Heeseung. The only one that ever will.

His eyes wide, stepping back away but with a quick motion, a knife cuts his stomach. The cut was deep, his intestines started to hang out. He started to choke, blood pouring from his stomach and his mouth as he held his stomach, frozen but shaking. Jay smirked. “I’m sorry,” he spoke coldly, his voice hoarse, grabbing onto him, “I slipped,” and he stabbed him again, letting go of him so Heeseung would fall to the ground. 

“J-Jay—”

“It’s no hard feelings, alright?” His voice was deeper, like it wasn’t even his, “I’m just doing what I need to do. Nothing you’ve done, nothing you could have prevented either,” a smirk appeared on his cold, white face, but Heeseung knew it wasn’t him.

Heeseung, barely alive, chokes out. “You’ll never get away with this,” a bold statement, Jay was almost impressed. But the grin faded from his lips, and only darkness grew from his dark eyes now. Jay chuckled darkly, grabbing onto Heeseung’s collar and pulling him off the ground a bit. He smiled, leaning in close.

“Then I will give my all to prove you wrong,” and he lets go, causing Heeseung’s head to fall back against the ground beneath him, bleeding out as Jay laughed before grabbing onto his legs and dragging him away towards the fountain in the middle of the maze, where soon, their friends will mourn another, but eventually learn the truth.

Jungwon ran first, with Jake calling out for him and Niki watching from the back porch. He stood, frozen, as his two friends darted towards the maze’s entrance, running through the maze to find wherever Sunghoon was. Jake tried to catch up to Jungwon, but he was so fast. Through the maze, going the right path every time, Jake was even confused as he chased after Jungwon, eventually making it to the fountain where another one of their friends was dead, hanging on the fountain, like he had been crucified—just like Sunoo. Along the fountain’s circular edge, where most would sit to take a moment of breath, there was blood. So much blood, and the water had turned red, mixing with the blood. His stomach still (barely) held up the intestines that tried to fall out, his legs and hands stained with his own blood. Jake stopped there, just before he ran into Jungwon, who had abruptly stopped in front of the fountain. 

“Hee—” Jungwon gasped and covered his mouth, “Oh my god . .” But he saw the blood, and he saw the fountain. It was just like what happened to Sunoo. What the hell was all of this? There’s been pentagrams and crucifixion and so much death. Was this a cult?

Jake stepped back and turned, seeing Sunghoon sitting with his knees against his chest. He was shaking, his eyes dancing. “Sunghoon, Sunghoon,” Jake quickly headed over to him, trying to get him to snap out of it, “Sunghoon, look at me, you’re okay,”

Sunghoon didn’t move. “He’s dead. Sunoo’s dead. We’re going to die.” His eyes were wide, his body shivering. He was in shock, mumbling the same words to himself as he stared forward. 

Jake looked up and turned to Jungwon behind him. “Help me get him up,” 

Jungwon obliged and stepped towards them, both boys trying to lift Sunghoon off the ground. Jungwon stumbled a bit—Sunghoon wasn’t much taller than he was, but Jungwon was skinny, thin, not as strong as Sunghoon or, well, Jay. They walked out of the maze, completely forgetting about the generator, though the image of their dead friend did not even begin to fade from their eyes and mind.

Into the house, it was still dark. Some light reflected into the room from the windows, its dimness was noticeable, as it was only from the moon above. The full moon—call it a superstition, but Jungwon never liked full moons. They were always crazy nights, stressful or stress-less. There was no in between. Tonight was different. Tonight may actually be the end of everything.

“We’ve lost Sunoo and Heeseung,” Jake began to say, “Sunghoon’s in shock, and we have no idea where Jay is.” 

Sunghoon then grabbed onto Jake tightly, startling him. “No, no we can’t,” Sunghoon said hoarsely to Jake, “We can’t find Jay. We can’t.” His voice was shaking, tightly gripping Jake so tightly, it almost felt like he might tear his sleeve. 

Jake looked at him with furrowed brows, “What do you mean we can’t?” It was almost asking if Jay was already dead or not, but there was just this feeling in his gut that wasn’t anything close to what Sunghoon meant at all. Jungwon and Niki stood away by the couch in the center room, watching. Jake waited for a response, but before Sunghoon could say a thing, a voice rang out in the room, footsteps approaching from the main corridor upstairs. There, at the fence, stood Jay, clean but sweaty, like he had just been hiding all this time.

“Guys!” Jay exclaimed, “Thank god, you’re okay!” He came down the stairs and immediately hugged Jungwon and Jake, “I was so scared, I ran, I’m so sorry, I​​—”

“What are you sorry for?” Jungwon said with a raised brow, “You’re safe, that’s what matters.”

Jake nodded in agreement, both of them completely forgetting all that Sunghoon had to say. Even though only Sunghoon knew the truth—the truth that may just cost them their lives.

✧✧✧

“I was hiding in the upstairs closet. I was scared to come out. After seeing . . .” Jay shuddered as he spoke, “I was so scared.” He held his own arms so tight, like he was freezing in that warm room. His eyes shook with each beat of Sunghoon’s heart, because something inside him made him believe Jay didn’t have a heart at all. Jungwon frowned with empathy, and Jake raised his head to say another word. Niki sat away, as did Sunghoon, both watching but only one watched with fear. 

“We’ve lost Sunoo and Heeseung,” Jake began to say, “This doesn’t feel real. It can’t be.” He shook his head before burying his face into his hands. 

“This has to be a sick joke,” said Niki, “There’s no way we . . .” He trailed off, staring into the floor, “No. There’s just no way.” He stated. As Jake lifted his head, he noticed something shine behind the cloth of Jay’s shirt, a silver necklace with a red gem was all he could make out of it, but his thoughts were forgotten about as Jungwon continued the conversation at hand.

Jungwon glanced over, “Could this be a prank?”

"A prank?" Niki shook his head, "You think our own friends would take their own life and slaughter themselves like animals for a prank?"

"That's enough, Niki—"

"No, no, do you really think—" Niki stepped over, "Do you really think they wanted us to mourn over them just for a laugh?"

"Niki." Jake stepped closer, "Back off."

Jungwon stared into Niki's eyes and wathced as Niki backed up and turned away. Jungwon crossed his arms, "What do we do now?"

Sunghoon looked over, but Jake caught his attention once he said, “We don’t split up. We stick together. All we have now is each other, it’s the only way we’ll get out of here alive.”

Jay stood up, looking through the window out to the backyard. “Where did you see him last?” He asked the others, “Out there?” He pointed.

“I haven’t seen him,” Jake said, “None of us have. We know just as much as you do.”

Sunghoon scoffed, “I doubt that.” 

Jay hitched his breath, Sunghoon heard it, but apparently no one else did.

But Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows, uncrossing his arms. “What do you mean by that, Hoon?”

“Wait,” Jay said suddenly, “Wait—he’s coming towards the door, Hoon, help me hold the door!” He darted towards the back door, holding it shut, waving his hand for Sunghoon to help him. Sunghoon shot up and went over, despite knowing the truth, knowing it all but a part of him wished he was wrong, that the “truth” wasn’t true at all. 

Jake stood up, “Where do you want us?” Jungwon and Niki stood up as well.

“Go, I want you to go,” Jay said, “Hide, we’ll hold him off as long as we can before we hide, too.” Then, he grinned a little, “I promise, we’ll be fine.”

Jungwon nodded and he ran down the corridor with Jake and Niki behind him. Jay looked over at Sunghoon, and with a smile, he let go of the door, reached behind him and stabbed Sunghoon in his stomach. Sunghoon starts to choke, “J-Jay . . .”

For as long as he could remember, Sunghoon always kept himself busy. It was a coping mechanism, though to most, it seemed like he just didn’t like people and was probably quite shy. All of that was true, but it wasn’t why he would keep himself so busy. He joined so many clubs, did so much community service, worked almost an ungodly and possibly illegal amount of hours for work, all to keep himself away from home. 

His parents had an arranged marriage, conceived him for the benefit of their own parents’ money. He was raised by his mother and father, but separately. You’d be lucky to see his parents in the same room as each other. They did love each other, but only platonically and even then, they never got alone. But they couldn’t divorce each other because then they’d lose all their money. But Sunghoon never thought anything of it. It wasn’t his business, not his problem so he kept to himself—always. 

He was an independent child growing up, and even though he had a younger sister, he never teased her or poked fun at her, not the way any other older brother normally would. Instead, he protected her. He taught her how to live, how to survive, how to act kind instead of wealthy because they were—they had all the money in the world, but he wanted nothing to do with it. He wanted to be his own person, to not ever be like his parents. They weren’t bad parents, they weren’t even bad people. But he wanted to be free, away from the fake-love, the fake-marriage, the one-on-one parenting. Love could not keep his parents together, but money sure could. But he didn’t want to be like that. 

When he was older, his family moved to this great big house, worth about a million USD at least, just down the street from Mr Hwang. His parents met him and grew close with him, and suddenly, everything was different. He noticed how his parents started to act with each other, more loving and caring towards one another, like money never meant a thing to them. Love was there, pure love. He almost didn’t think anything of it, until more and more thoughts started to appear in his mind, making him realize the truth that something had changed.

“You’re just thinking too much into it,” said his little sister with a curving grin and a short chuckle, “Mom and Dad have always loved each other.”

But they didn’t—They never loved each other the way they suddenly do now. And she wouldn’t believe him, or even listen to anything he says about it. He was the only one who knew the truth, that this wasn’t right. Something had changed. But every time he brought it up with his sister, she’d call him crazy. And eventually, it stuck, and he stopped talking to her about it. Instead, he started to wish he wasn’t home anymore. So he made sure, with everything he had, that he rarely ever was.

“I’m sorry, old pal,” Jay said lowly, “You should’ve kept your mouth shut,” and with the same knife, he slit Sunghoon’s throat, his blood spraying onto him, covering him once again in his own friend’s blood, staining his clothes, his face, but it would only get worse as he saw, standing there in the kitchen, it was Niki. Paralyzed, frozen with wide eyes, traumatized from what he had just seen. “What’s the matter?” A sneering, but dark voice echoes through the room, “Don’t feel so left out. You’ll be joining him,”

Niki started to shake his head, backing into the counter behind him. “Jay—”

Then, Jay throws his knife towards him, stabbing Niki right in his chest, causing him to then fall to the ground. He steps over Sunghoon, walking over to the kitchen to where Niki had fallen. But Niki fought back—He kicked Jay back, trying to get up as he pulled the knife out of his chest, trying to use it to his advantage before he bleeds out. Jay charges at him, knocking the knife out of Niki’s hand but Niki pushes against him, throwing a punch, then two, but Jay hits back, hitting him right where he had stabbed him. Niki falls back, grunting loud as the pain grows. Jay then grabs a knife out of its holder on the counter and stabs Niki again, but this time in his stomach, pulling it upwards, cutting up Niki’s stomach, tearing the skin. Niki choked on the blood filling his throat, but he swallowed harshly. 

Niki sat alone in the mall’s food court. He was about seven then, watching the people come and go, sitting at the tables, eating their rice, their noodles, before going on to another store, carrying bags upon bags, or maybe nothing at all. He watched every person that caught his eye, observing them closely, noting every piece of their being just sitting there, alone and without anyone to accompany him.

His parents were drug dealers, moved to Korea when Niki was just a little younger than he was then. He didn’t know this until he was much older, but they moved there because they were getting ratted out for selling drugs, so they ran to Seoul, expecting it to be different from their home in Japan. But he was just a little kid, he never paid any attention to anything.

He had always been an eccentric kid, ever since he was just a little toddler. He was so full of energy, always in the mood to play. There was never a dull moment with him. He never gets to play with other kids, so he always plays with his sister instead, not that he didn’t enjoy it. But today was different, she was with the babysitter as Niki had accompanied his parents on a little trip to the mall which led him to where he is now—sitting alone in the food court, not knowing where his parents had disappeared to. He was right next to them, following them as they walked so quickly through the mall’s long, open corridor. There were so many people, such thin crowds however, that Niki almost didn’t realize that he had lost his parents. They weren’t in front of him any longer, and soon, he was lost. 

Like any other kid, he found the food court almost immediately. So, he took a seat at an empty table and waited, watching every person in his view, trying to find his parents. It was almost like a reflex, like this had happened before. Because it has. This was not at all the first time this had happened, and it definitely wasn’t the last. They knew where to find him afterwards, which made Niki wonder, once he got older, that this was their plan all along. To lose them along the way to their serving, their dealing, so they’d find him in the food court and make their way home just to do it again in the next week or so. 

“Riki, dear,” his mother called out from behind him, close by. “Let’s go,” her hand appeared on his shoulder, but it didn’t startle him. He looked up at her, and she was smiling.

“Can we get lunch?” Niki asked, “Please?”

His father appeared beside his mother, looking to his wife.

She sighed, “What would you like?” She kept her smile, “There’s plenty of—”

“I want ramyeon,” 

“Ramyeon?” She expected more, honestly. “Here, or the store down—”

“Can we stop by that store by the school?” Niki asked, lowering his head to the table again, “I like the ramyeon there,”

She nodded her head, “Of course. Come on,” and Niki obliged and rose from his seat.

That store was built a long time ago, just the year before that school was. After school every day, he’d have to walk home, but only after stopping at the store first. He would never have a single cent on him, but the owner always gave him the ramyeon for free. It was almost obvious from the way Niki was dressed that his family was not as “well-off” as everyone else’s was. It wasn’t his fault, so the owner never asked any questions about it. Instead, the only thing he ever asked was what type of ramyeon he would like that afternoon. The school was just down the block from the school, about a five minute walk. It was the school Niki went to for primary school, where he met the store owner’s son. His first ever friend.

He never told his parents about his friendship. He didn’t want them to try and leech off his friend’s parents. He’s never seen them or known of them to do that, but he didn’t want to take the risk either. He was such a smart little kid, it was no surprise when he passed so many exams with such flying colors that it earned him a scholarship to that private academy he goes to now. He’s earned every moment of recognition, of admiration, that he’s ever been given. He’s worked his way to the top, and now, there he goes to school with his best friends—plural. 

His name was Nishimura Riki, but he never went by “Riki.” His parents called him that, of course, because they named him that, but to anyone else he was “Niki.” On the first day of school after moving from Japan to Korea, Niki was sat beside this smaller boy with dark hair and curved, but wide eyes who turned to him, looked at the name he had written on the page, so quickly like it was any of his business, and asked, “Your name is Niki?”

But Niki did not correct him. He just smiled a little and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “my name is Niki.”

And the boy smiled back at him, his eyes creasing into sideways-crescents, appearing suddenly kind, like his aura had completely changed.

“I’m Sunoo.”

“You killed them.”

Jay’s eyebrows lifted slightly, feeling the grip of Niki’s hands around his arms only tighten. Niki stared into Jay’s cold eyes, the brown in his eyes had changed to pure crimson, almost glowing in the shadows of his face. Niki felt his skin continue to tear, this was the end of the line. Soon, he’d meet Sunoo again. Death didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“You . . .” Niki hitched his breath, “You killed your own friends, with your own hands,” his hands started to lose grip, “with no remorse, none at all. You killed Sunoo, and Heeseung, and Sunghoon, and . . . You’re killing me, too. Then you’ll kill Jake and Jungwon, and then it’ll be over,” Niki’s voice was strained as he spoke with his very last breaths, “But you are not yourself, you are—” he chokes again, swallowing harshly, “You’re Mr Hwang.”

There, with a quick twist of his wrist, the knife deepens, and Niki’s heart stops and he croaks out his last breath. His eyes became lifeless as did the others’, and there, another one was gone. His body went limp, his hands still stiff but Jay jerked himself out of his grip. He stood up, covered in blood that had become a mixture of two of his friends’ blood, none belonging to him at all. He did not take the knife out of Niki, no, but he grabbed the last one out of the holder on the counter, the sharpest one it appeared, and he stepped over Niki’s body and headed down the hallway where he had left Sunoo’s body not even an hour before. Down the dark hallway, he stopped midway when he heard the scuffling behind a closed door—the bathroom door. He took silent steps to not be heard, but he knew even the one inside knew he was out there. But it was Mr Hwang who had taken over Jay’s entire being, controlling him, proving Sunghoon’s statement before. He was a nice guy unless you trespassed. He gets scary.

But it was suddenly an idiotic move to try and get the bathroom to open as no one was in it at all, but with a quick glance to his left, Jay saw a foot in the crack of a door, just behind it as if it was ready to run out the moment it needed to. Jay didn’t waste a second. He darted towards the door with his knife in his hand, stabbing who appeared to be Jake, standing behind the door, but behind him a few feet was Jungwon who lifted up a chair and threw it at Jay, knocking him back and blacking him out for a few moments. Jungwon quickly grabbed onto Jake and helped him up, running out of the room and up the stairs to the nearest room—the master bedroom, where Jay was first possessed, not that they knew any of that—yet.

In the master bedroom, Jungwon searched the dresser for any extra sheets or clothing that he could wrap around Jake to slow the bleeding. Unfortunately, nothing but old photos and letters were left in the drawers, along with some old dusty book under most of it. But he did catch a glimpse at the photo sitting on the dresser of Mr Hwang and his wife, though his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the other.

“Jungwon, the blood’s not stopping. I don’t think I’m going to make it,” Jake was panicking, his voice was shaking but Jungwon tried to stay calm for the both of them. Jungwon didn’t glance at him, he just kept looking through the dresser.

“You are not bleeding out, Jake—”

“Yes, yes I am,” Jake breathed heavily, holding his wound tightly with his jacket against it, trying to soak the blood into it, “He stabbed me, Jungwon. I’m going to die.” 

“You are not— Jake, listen to me,” Jungwon quickly went over to him, “You are not dying. We are getting out of here, I just need to find a way to get back down to the main floor. Okay?” And after a moment, Jake nodded his head so Jungwon headed back over to the other side of the corner inside the master bedroom, seeing the large board on the wall covered in pictures and strings attached to push-pins that connected a whole bunch of things. It was like a crime-wall. “What the . . .” Jungwon muttered under his breath, skimming over it all. 

A few were cut outs of newspaper headings, all revolving around people passing away and a rise of churches preaching about resurrection. There was a photo of a group of men in coats, and there were others of funerals, some of people he’s seen in the obituaries in the paper. There was even a photo of Sunghoon’s parents on there as well. Lastly, in the middle of the board, there was an obituary from seven years ago of a woman, the same woman that was in the picture on the dresser. Quickly to the dresser, in the top drawer, he dug until he found what was a thick, journal-like book underneath the piles of photos and letters. He flipped through the old, stained pages quickly before stopping when he saw the amulet sketched onto the page.

The Ochiul Amuletului Lucifer, or the Eye of Lucifer Amulet, was discovered hundreds of years ago, near the beginning of Romania. One priest, after committing an unknown sin, was struck by lightning twice before collapsing where later, he found the amulet in his hand when he woke up. He believed it was his sign from God to confess his sins and beg for forgiveness. However, from an act now to be marked as a only miracle, an ill child, dead for only a minute, was saved and brought back to life once the Priest had helped him. The Priest sought out how this could have happened, how he saved the child, to come to the conclusion that the amulet had helped him. That amulet was passed down to his son and then to his son, going on for generations, making it all the way to today where it sat in His hands, the ones belonging to someone I thought was my friend, but only to be a cult leader who swore he would resurrect Christ and become God himself. 

I should’ve known the moment he taught us how to make those “rituals.” But those “rituals”—that he claimed to be so enlightening—are nothing but unholy. It’s like the worst version of the crucifixion of Jesus. A pentagram underneath them, he says it works best when it’s drawn out with their own blood. He kept telling us to not read the manuscripts. But they hold the truth. How had I not seen this coming? It’s a sacrificial ritual to Hell. He was sending those innocent people to Hell just for the hell of it. I wish I could laugh at my own accidental pun but I’ve lost everything. Again. I’ve lost everything again. 

I stole that amulet from him. I thought if I took it, he could no longer hurt anyone, but only I’ve grown with the same power he had. It wasn’t bringing any of them back. It was draining our lives instead. It has dark magic inside of it, that was clear the moment I laid eyes on it. He always told me how it would make him a God. I have those same thoughts now, just like he did. I can feel it becoming me, and it’s locked away. I’m scared if I die near it, I’ll be trapped inside of it, lost for eternity. I only wanted her back. Was I selfish? Was this all just my fault? I’m to blame for this. I had that couple join us, too. Oh the children, what have I done? 

I should have never met him. I should have never joined him. 

I have to stop him. 

Jungwon’s eyes were so wide, he thought they would never close. Mr Hwang was the one who had possessed Jay and made him kill all his friends. The dark magic inside the amulet trapped his ghost inside and corrupted him into an evil version of himself. He set the book down on the top of the dresser and headed over to the board again, starting to take it all down carefully, grabbing it all and throwing it onto the ground near Jake’s feet. Jungwon turned back to the dresser and took out the photos and the letters, took it to the floor where the other stuff was and laid it all out, trying to connect the pieces and solve the puzzle. It took him a few minutes, but once he figured it out, he sat back and stared at all of it on the floor. 

“Mr Hwang lost his wife seven years ago so he joined a cult that believed that they could use resurrection and dark magic to bring their loved ones back, but it never worked. It only slowly started to kill them instead, and the rituals they did were sacrifices of innocent people so they could ‘get their loved ones back’ but then it only killed those people and sent them to Hell.” Jake twisted his face, confused at his words but he still followed, “Five years ago, Sunghoon and his family moved down the street of Mr Hwang, and his parents met him and grew close with him, where they were convinced to join the cult as well and because of some dark magic or something, but—” Jungwon raised his head a bit, “It made them fall in love with each other.”

Jake’s eyes widened, “Sunghoon wasn’t lying . . .” He never once did.

Jungwon shook his head, “They couldn’t get the dark magic to resurrect any of their lost loved ones, so Mr Hwang started to convince himself that the cult was draining their own lives to be able to resurrect the lives they lost. The board, all of it—he made it so he could end the cult for good, so he’d have a plan. But then, he was killed for what he was trying to do, and for what he had taken,”

The other grunted, “What do you mean? What did he . . what did he take?”

Jungwon grabbed one of the photos and lifted it for Jake to see, “He took this amulet, where the dark magic was trapped inside of.”

Jake gasps, though it hurts his chest, “Oh god,” he goes, “Oh god, oh god,” he repeats, clutching his chest like a heart attack.

“What? Jake?” Jungwon quickly asks, scooting over to Jake to make sure he was okay, “Jake, what is it?”

Jake is shuddering, shaking like he was freezing, his eyes dancing as his hand twitches with soreness. “That amulet you just showed me, you said it has that dark magic in it,” and as Jungwon nods, he starts to realize what Jake was about to say next, “Jay was wearing it.”

 Jungwon felt his heart sink to his stomach. “What do we do?” He shivered, “Fuck—What do we do, Jake?” It had just hit him then, that his best friend, his longest and dearest friend, had been possessed by a ghost with a vengeance. He killed four of their friends, stabbed another, and now it’s only he and Jake that’s left. But even Jake may not make it. He was dying, even if he kept telling Jungwon he would be just fine. His time was running out. “There’s a balcony we can escape on down the hall.” He looked over at Jake, “Should we go?”

“Yeah,” Jake coughed as he nodded, starting to sit up from the wall, “We should head up now, before he finds us.” 

Jungwon grabbed onto Jake carefully, helping him stand up. Jungwon had his arm wrapped around Jake as his arm was wrapped around Jungwon’s shoulders, walking towards the door which that slowly, and as quietly as humanly possible, opened and started to head down the hallway. Two doors down was the music room, a single black piano sat against the wall ahead of them as they walked through the door, a chair in the corner to their left, but there was nothing else in there. It was so empty, so spacious. A chill fell down Jungwon’s spine.

Jungwon helped Jake get settled against the wall adjacent to the front-wall where the door was. Jungwon walked over to the balcony, though the only way to it was through a large window. “Okay, we just need to get onto the balcony and we’ll either climb down or maybe jump down? I don’t— We’ll figure it out,”

“No, you go and get help,” Jake scooted up the wall a bit, gasping as he did so, “You’ll get out of here. You’ll live,” a sudden change in tone, completely going against all he had been saying this entire time, earning a wide-eyed look from the other. “Go,” 

“What?” Jungwon went over to him, “No, I’m not— I’m not leaving you, Jake.”

Jake lifted the blood-soaked jacket from the wound, revealing the deep cut that the knife had left in his abdomen. It was still bleeding out, not slowing at all. “I’m dying, Jungwon. I’m only going to slow you down.”

Jungwon shook his head, “No, no, I’m not leaving you. Stop being stupid,”

“I’m not being stupid. I’m being realistic. I won’t be able to climb down or jump down—I won’t even make it through the next few minutes,” He coughs dryly, scared he’ll cough up more blood as there was already some that had stained his lips a bit. “I’m not going to make it, Won.”

“Dad? — No, I’m here.”

Jake held the phone up to his ear, sitting beside his mother and brother in the airport’s departure-waiting room. It was the night before Jake’s 9th birthday, his mother had booked a last minute flight for her and her two sons to go back to Korea. Jake was first born there in Seoul, though he and his older brother moved to Brisbane shortly after to live with his father, even though Jake was just a few months old. This was because his parents split up, though they were never married, and the court had (wrongfully) given his father full-custody. They called every week, at least three times, to keep in contact. There were plenty of times where Jake and his older brother both wished they lived with their mother instead. Their father wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t a good dad either. He was always working and when he got home, he would just drink and fall asleep in front of the couch. Jake’s older brother basically raised him up until that week before Jake’s 9th birthday.

Just this past week, however, their mother had come to visit. It had been a long time, but she had been saving up her vacation days and all her money to stay for a whole week with her boys. She was definitely surprised to see how their very wealthy father was living. Jake and his brother went to elite schools, while living in a house that was the equivalent of a crack-house. She was appalled, dumbfounded if you will, but she decided right then and there that she was going to take her boys to a better home, even if that meant leaving their father behind.

Jake had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that he was boarding a plane with his mom and brother without his father. All he knew was what his mother had said as she told them to pack their things and get ready to go. “I should’ve never let them give him custody,” was what she had muttered under her breath as she packed her sons’ clothes into bags. Jake was the only one who heard her, but it wasn’t long until he would ask his older brother about it, who just told him to keep quiet. 

“Hey, where did you guys go?” He still sounded drunk, slurring his words with a still half-asleep voice. “I was gonna, I was gonna cook some dinner.” 

Jake gulped. “Oh, uh, we went out to the store,” he tried to keep himself from crying, but he was so small, he couldn’t control. “We’ll be back later.”

His mother slightly frowned, and his brother had already turned away. She rubbed her youngest son’s back slowly, trying to comfort him as he spoke to his father.

“Oh could you pick up some—what is it called—that cheese your brother likes so much?”

“Parmesan?”

“Yes, yes! That’s it!” He hears his father laugh on the other side of the phone. “Could you get me some of that for me, yeah?” 

Jake looked over at his mom, and tried not to start crying but his voice started to break and crack as he replied. “Yeah. I can,” he nodded his head, “We’ll be home soon, Dad.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting. I love you, son.”

Jake stared down at his lap. “I love you, too, Dad.” And the call ended. He handed the phone back to his mother, and soon, it was time to board their plane. Jake felt awful that he lied to his father. They weren’t coming back, and Jake knew that. He loved his dad, he really did, but maybe this was a good thing. Maybe it was a bad thing. He wasn’t sure about any of it. But he did know one thing, that his 9th birthday was his best birthday yet. He had loads of cake and he had so many presents, and at the park that night, that’s when he met Jay and Jungwon. 

It never once dawned on him that that phone call he had with his father before they got onto the plane, was his last phone call with his dad—ever. Now, he hadn’t spoken to his father in almost a decade. According to social media, his dad eventually remarried and changed his entire lifestyle. He was now 8 years sober, married with a couple step-kids and kids of his own blood, living in a fancy house with his young(er) wife, completely forgetting about his first two children. He tried to not let it bother him when he found out, but his father had forgotten about him. He thought it was his fault, because he had lied to him before, but he figured he was probably too drunk to even realize that his two sons never came back. He didn’t know. But whenever anyone asks where his dad was, he would always say “on another business trip” because he thought if he told anyone the truth, he’d be seen differently because then, he’d be labeled with “daddy issues” and he didn’t want to be just a guy with daddy issues. He wanted to be his own person, even if his own best friend understood what he was going through, the one that always hid everything from everyone, the one who’s dad was there but not really there at all at the same time. But life goes on, people make mistakes, and people change. Life goes on, even if it’s without you.

“No, I’m not leaving you,” Jungwon stated with a stern tone, “You are going to live, I can’t—” Tears started to form, rolling down his face quickly, “I can’t leave you, Jake. I can’t lose you, too.”

Jake started to cry, but he didn’t seem to realize it. His skin was so pale, and his hands started to tremble. “I never told Lydia to not come. I invited her, remember? And she might be here soon. So get out of here and leave with her, just run and get help, or don’t. Just run,” he rambled on, but he hitched his breath as he paused, “I know she’ll think I was brave, that I should’ve lived but I’ve always been a coward. I never told her how I felt, how I’ve a-always felt about her,” he then grabbed his hand and held it tightly with both of his, “I won’t ask you to tell her that, I don’t want to add to her pain, but please,” he shuddered, “watch over her, will you? She’s really smart, but she’s not so good with people. I just want her to be safe, you know?” His eyebrows creased, knitting together as its ends pointed upwards. Jungwon couldn’t disagree with him. He didn’t have the will to. This was what Jake wanted, what he needed to move on and leave this painful life behind. He knew that Jake wouldn’t make it to the end, but he thought if they just hurried, Jake would live. But that was never going to happen. 

Jungwon nodded his head, “I’ll take care of her,” he started to sob, “Now, you go now, okay? I’ll be okay. You don’t have to hurt anymore,” he brushed his hair out of his face, “It’s okay, Jake. You can go.” His voice trembled as he spoke.

Jake tried to smile, “Take care of yourself, Won.”

Jungwon sniffled, feeling as Jake’s hands let go of his. He leaned down and started to cry again, his hands stained with his dead best friend’s blood. He couldn’t believe it at all. All of his friends were dead, and Jay wasn’t anything like himself. He had killed everyone, and now he was alone and he had to leave so he could protect himself and Lydia and everyone else. But he couldn’t move. He was frozen, stuck there as he sobbed over Jake’s dead body, numb of all things flowing through his heart and mind. Everyone was dead.

“So you’re the only one left, huh?”

Jungwon shook his head, “You killed everyone.” He lifted his head, seeing Jay stand there in the doorway. “You don’t even care. You murdered them in cold blood, your brothers, your best friends and you don’t feel any remorse. You don’t feel anything at all.”

Jay scoffed, “They’re not my friends. And I’m not Jay, but you already knew that, right?” He started to walk over, “There’s something that’s stopping me from slitting your throat right now, so I’ll give you a chance here,” he threw the knife away, it slid against the floor and hit the baseboard right under the window to the balcony. “I will let you fight me. I won’t use anything but my own bare hands, to make it fair. We’ll fight to the death, and whoever wins, will walk out of this house alive, whether it be you or me. But I’ll give you an advantage, too. If you manage,” he continues to explain, using his hands to express it, just like Jay used to do, “to grab the knife while we fight, then you can use it to try and kill me with it. But if I grab it, I can try to kill you with it, too. Ready?”

Jungwon stared at him, no emotion behind his eyes as he stood up, his hands still red and stained. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He raised his fists, and Jay charged at him, but Jungwon blocked the first punch, though he just slightly missed the second punch so he stumbled back a bit before dodging and swinging, punching Jay in his jaw. His face and arms were bruised a little, probably from earlier with the chair that he had thrown at him, but he couldn’t help but hope that it really did hurt him. No one would ever judge him for thinking that way, but Jay was his best friend. This was all just too much, but inside he knew, Jay was still in there, somewhere.

“You’re pathetic, y’know that?” Jay chuckled darkly, pushing against Jungwon, “You are just as weak as he is,” Mr Hwang? Oh, he didn’t know who was speaking anymore. “You are just as stupid as him, too.”

“Look at yourself, Mr Hwang,” Jungwon quickly retaliated, “You joined a cult, trying to bring back your wife, but that cult was never going to help you do that at all. And when you finally realized it, you stole the amulet so you could try to resurrect her yourself. You tried to stop a cult that you knew could kill you in an instant, and for all you’ve done, you will never be granted the chance to reunite with your wife now, right? For all the sins you’ve committed just tonight alone,” Jungwon tightened his grip, “That amulet did not make you a God, nor did it ever make you a better person, but instead, it made you just as weak as you claim that I am.”

He backed up and kicked Jay back, fixing his stance before he swung again but Jay caught his arm and twisted it, causing Jungwon to yell out. But Jungwon grabbed onto his other arm and pinched it, raising his boot to kick Jay in the knee. Out of his grasp, Jungwon ran for the knife, but he tripped when he felt a hand grab onto his ankle, pulling him back. But Jungwon fought back, kicked him as he continued to reach for the knife. But Jay climbed over him and grabbed it first, about to stab the other before Jungwon grabbed onto Jay’s wrist with both hands, pushing him back as Jay sat on Jungwon’s stomach, pushing the knife down against Jungwon’s grip. The knife made it to the edge of his skin, drawing blood and cutting into him just ever so slightly before Jungwon did the last thing he could do, his last chance at living, at surviving all of this—his last chance at saving Jay. 

“It’s over,” Jay—or Mr Hwang—said roughly, “You’ve lost.”

Jungwon did not believe that at all. Because he hadn’t lost, at least not yet. He had a plan that could either kill him or save him, so he took a deep breath and spoke with his heart.

“Could you live without me?”

Jay suddenly stopped, his hands shaking as he stayed in place, furrowing his eyebrows. “What?” The knife lifted a little, just over the small cut.

Jungwon took in a deep breath, “I told you I wouldn’t want to live without you, but could you? Could you live without me? Would you—” Jungwon sniffled, tears starting to form again in the corners of his eyes. “Would you want to?”

The older did not mutter a word, but the crimson in his eyes had started to fade. Jungwon was winning, he knew that then. Jay was phasing out of the possession, he was getting his control back. One final thing could either save them both or lead to his death. Jungwon knew what to do. So his grip tightened, the knife just barely hovering over his chest as he spoke.

“It’s not your fault, Jay.”

Jungwon’s only ever seen Jay cry once. It was a long time ago, when they were about eight and nine. Jungwon had stayed the night, like he did every weekend, and Jay was showing him this new game his parents had bought him at the store the day before. The two boys sat on the floor of Jay’s bedroom, playing with Jay’s new game on his Playstation 2. It was pretty old, but it still worked. It was his father’s, and though they had enough money for just about a thousand Playstation 3’s, Jay never asked for a new one. He didn’t really want one. 

That night, sometime around 9, Jungwon had fallen asleep in his sleeping bag on the floor. Jay fell asleep shortly after, in his bed right beside him. It wasn’t until about 2 in the morning when Jungwon woke up to a distant slam of a door. His eyes shot open, like a trigger, then he sat up, confused and half-awake. He rubbed his eyes, but could only see the orange outline around the closed door, the hallway light was on. He reached above and switched the lamp on, before stretching and groaning. He stood up to go to the bathroom, but just as he turned to check on Jay, he saw that his bed was empty. The blanket was thrown around and the bed was still dented in from where Jay had been sleeping. His confusion started to grow, but so did his fear. Hesitantly, Jungwon headed for the door and opened it slowly, trying to make sure it didn’t creak or make any loud noise. He stepped into the hallway, his socks protecting him from the cold hard-wood floor beneath him, yet he still shuddered. The house was so cold, but it was the beginning of February. 

Jungwon walked down the steps, which felt so much longer now. Muffled voices from the kitchen behind a closed door, but his heart was beating louder in his chest, he swore it. When he approached the door, he stood there, not knowing if he should step in or not. This wasn’t his house, it wasn’t his right to intrude. That was, well, until he heard a familiar voice—Jay.

He opened the door a bit, seeing his friend just in front of the same door, staring at his parents who stood behind the kitchen island. His head poked into the room, slowly squeezing into the room, standing behind Jay—who hadn’t even noticed him yet. 

“You don’t get to berate me in front of our child in the middle of the night and think everything’s going to be just fine, Robert.” Mrs. Park remarked at her husband, pointing her index finger into his chest. Her eyebrows were in a thin line, Jungwon had never seen her this serious before. Mr. Park was always the serious one, the one that always ruined the fun or told Jay not to act a certain way, while Mrs. Park loved everything about her son and cared for his happiness and safety, not like Mr. Park ever did. Mrs. Park was a stay-at-home mom, although she only had one child (though she always treated Jungwon like a second son), while Mr. Park was always at work. He was rarely ever home, and when he was, he spent it in his office, working. He had never been there for his son, nor his wife. Jay had a father, never a dad. 

Mr. Park scoffed at her words, “Berate you? I have never—in my life—berated you. You are the one shouting at me all because I came home late,” but he stunk of booze, sweat beamed off his forehead and dripped down his face, and there was a good chance it was just alcohol. 

“You smell like you’ve lived in a bar for weeks, which you basically have because you spend every night there now,” said Mrs. Park, “You are never home. I have raised Jay all by myself, yet you don’t give a damn at all about your own son.”

“Do not turn this on me, Mary.” His voice was stern, controlling, it sent shivers down Jungwon’s spine, but Jay didn’t even flinch. “You drink your wine like it’s water, but the moment I drink a little, you go batshit crazy—”

“A little? You have gone to that bar every night for the last months, Robert. And you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but I’ve known for a long time,” she stepped towards him, “How dare you ever speak to me that way when you have been sleeping with your assistant for months—”

Slap.

The room went quiet. Mr. Park took a step back, realizing what he had done but she had already turned away and saw Jungwon standing there, too. She didn’t walk away, but she stopped there at the end of the island, closer to them now. She shook her head, her cheek turning red, but her tears fell down her face, staining them. “Pack your shit. You’re leaving.”

Soon, Jungwon and Jay were back upstairs, but this time, they were in his parents’ room. But he only called it his mom’s room when Jungwon asked where they were going. Most of Mr. Park’s stuff wasn’t even in the bedroom, and the stuff that was, Mrs. Park had come in and got it. She took it all downstairs before returning to the bedroom to tuck the boys in. 

“Where will you sleep, Mommy?” Jay’s little voice was so high, but he wasn’t a baby anymore. He only called her mommy when he was scared. She gave him a soft but saddened smile and leaned over to kiss his forehead. 

“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll just be downstairs,” and she leaned over and kissed Jungwon’s forehead again, “Get him to sleep, will you? He only ever listens to you,” she tells the other boy. Jungwon giggles and nods his head, though Jay tossed and turned, grumbling. She tucks them in and smiles, “Goodnight, boys. I’ll make a big breakfast in the morning,” and she rose from the bed and left the bedroom. Her cheek was still red, but she seemed so calm.

Jay didn’t say anything for a while. Jungwon thought he was asleep for a bit until Jay suddenly turned over on his side and faced him, startling him. “Are you okay?”

Jungwon stared at him. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“N-No,” 

“Jay, you heard what they were saying. You were there. I was, too.”

“So what? They’re just divorcing,” Jay replied nonchalantly, even for a kid, it sounded so weird coming from him, “It’s not like he’s around anyways.” There was this small break in his voice when he said that, revealing to Jungwon that he was sad, but he just wouldn’t let himself feel that way.

“Stop doing that,” 

“Stop doing what?”

Jungwon didn’t look at him. He turned onto his back, his hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling fan. “Stop pushing your feelings down, like you don’t deserve to feel things. Stop doing that.”

But Jay looked at him. “Okay.”

He laid on his back as well. His elbow gently grazed Jungwon’s, but it was only Jungwon who noticed, yet he didn’t give the other boy a glance. He knew if he did, Jay would leave. But he turned his head when he heard a light sniffle coming from the older, seeing that he was crying. Jay was crying, the tears dripping off his cheek, wetting the white pillow cases. He had never seen Jay cry before. Never. Crying was never something Jay ever did, not even when they were way little. His mother always told him that Jay rarely cried as a baby, not a surprise he would always repress his emotions, but Jungwon always cried. Jungwon was a crybaby, he’d admit to that, not that that ever pushed Jay away, but anyone could tell you that Jay Park never cried. 

Jungwon didn’t say anything, it’d only make things worse. But with one single, slow motion, Jungwon turned over and faced Jay and when he noticed this, he almost immediately moved over and hugged Jungwon. Uncontrollably sobbing into his best friend’s shoulder, covering his t-shirt with tears and possibly snot, but Jungwon didn’t mind. 

He didn’t mind at all.

Jay took the knife and pulled it away from Jungwon. He reached under his shirt and yanked the amulet off of him, breaking the chain and tossing it away. Jungwon was frozen, but Jay stood up off of him. Jungwon sat up, watching Jay stumble back, almost tripping over himself as he stared forward, blankly. The knife was in his hand, and he looked up at Jungwon, his eyes wide and his skin as pale as a ghost. 

“He wanted me to kill everyone for trespassing,” Jay started to say, “but he wanted you to escape, so you could live with the pain for the rest of your life like he had done until the cult killed him for trying to stop them. He was just as bad as them, but I didn’t want— I didn’t want to kill them, I didn’t want to do this, any of it, I— I killed our best friends, Jungwon. I killed everyone, I can’t— What the fuck did I do?” He raised the knife, “What have I done?”

“Jay, Jay,” Jungwon stood up, “Listen to me, okay?” He started to say, but he kept his distance still, “You didn’t do this. It was Mr Hwang, okay? I don’t understand it, but you’re okay. Please put the knife down, please, you didn’t do a thing—”

“I killed them, Jungwon!” He shouts, cutting Jungwon off, “I killed all of them. I hung Sunoo up on a wall, I cut open Heeseung’s stomach, I stabbed Sunghoon, Niki, and Jake— And then I almost killed you! I’m a murderer, Won! I killed five fucking people tonight, all of which were our best friends, and now we’re the only people left. This isn’t right, I’m not okay, I’m not right in the head.”

“Jay, please, it wasn’t you, it was Mr Hwang! You didn’t kill them, he did!”

“But this is all my fault, it still is!” Jay exclaimed, throwing his hands around, “I let them push you to have this stupid party in the first place. If we never had this party, we’d all still be alive, I wouldn’t have gotten possessed and killed all of our friends, you won’t have lost all of us in just one night.”

Jungwon stepped back, “All of us . . . ?”

Jay took the knife and pointed it to his chest, “I’m sorry, Won. I hope you find peace one day,” and with a quick motion, he stabbed himself with the knife. 

Jungwon screams, running towards him as Jay falls to the ground. “No, no, no, no, no Jay please, you can’t do this, no,” Jungwon lifted him off the floor and into his lap, “Please, Jay, you can’t die on me. I can’t lose you, too.” Jungwon cried out hoarsely, “I can’t lose you. Not you, please.”

Jay choked on the blood filling his throat and his lungs, “It’s not your fault either,” he whispered, “It was never your fault, and it never will be. I’ll be okay. You go, and take care of yourself. I’ll be with the others. I’ll be okay, Won.”

Jungwon shook his head, “No, Jay, please,” he cried softly to the other, holding him as he brushed his hair out of his face, crying like a baby. “I can’t lose you, too, Jay. Please. I’ve lost everyone tonight. I can’t lose you. I can’t live without you.”

There, he said it. He had been dancing around it for years. He told him before that he wouldn’t want to live without the other, but in truth, it was that he couldn’t. But that wasn’t a surprise to Jay at all. Because he had always felt that way about Jungwon.

Jay started to smile, blood still pouring out of the cut, dripping from his mouth. “You have always been my person, Yang Jungwon. You have never shown me nothing but kindness. You have loved me and cared for me more than you have ever given any to yourself. You are nothing less of my own role model, my muse, my reason to be better. You are the wind that blows at sunrise, the winds that lead me home. You,” he lifted his hand to Jungwon’s face, his thumb brushing against his cheek, wiping a single tear away amongst the tons falling down his face, “You are everything, even if I am nothing.” 

Jungwon sniffled, leaning into Jay’s hand as he raised his own and pressed it against his. “I’ll meet you again, Jay. I’ll be there soon.”

His smile started to fade, his eyebrows relaxing as he spoke with his last breath. “I will meet you in every life if I have to,” and there, his body had gone limp, and his heart had stopped beating. Jungwon felt the other’s hand relax against his hand, his face, and more tears started to stream down his face like waterfalls. He cried out, throwing his head back, still holding Jay’s lifeless body in his arms ever so tightly. He didn’t want to let go. Ever.

It was the day after that one night he spent with Jay, the night his parents split up in the middle of the night, the first time Jungwon had ever seen Jay cry. Though, Jungwon didn’t want to go home just yet. He worried about Jay so much. Jay’s father hadn’t even come back by the time Jungwon left the next night, which only grew his worries. But Mrs Park drove him home with Jay sitting beside him in the back seat, talking with him all about the new video games that are coming out soon. He wanted to stay another night, but he promised he would be home that night because his mom wanted to take him shopping in the morning. It was a special occasion. 

It wasn’t long until they arrived at Jungwon’s house, but Mrs Park had said something aloud that caught the boys’ attention, she had cursed in front of them, whispering a “What the fuck?” to herself, not realizing the boys had heard her at all as her eyes were almost glued to Jungwon’s house and the wide open front door. 

“Did your father get home late again?” She turned back to look at Jungwon once she had parked in front of the house. “The door’s wide open,”

Jungwon shrugged. “Maybe he just got home and left the door open.” He stepped out of the car and grabbed his backpack, bowing to Mrs Park and waving at Jay before he headed inside the house. It was really quiet, not even the TV was on. “Mom? Dad?” It was silent, not even an echo or maybe even a thump or a stomp—it was just pure silence. His little eyebrows furrowed as he walked through the living room, the kitchen, then down the hall. The bathroom light was on, piercing through the cracks and shining just a little into the hallway. There, at the end of the hall, was his parents’ bedroom. The door was shut, but it wasn’t locked. He hesitated but he grabbed onto the doorknob and twisted, pushing the door open. 

His mother lays on the floor, what he thought was puke stuck to her lips and cheek, dripping off her face and onto the floor beside her. Her eyes were wide, but she was still, like a statue. Her chest did not raise with a single breath. On the bed, his father had laid back on it, his legs off the bed. He ran to him, shaking him, “Dad! Dad!” He called out to him, but when he looked closer, he saw the blood, and how it stained the quilt his grandmother had gifted them for Christmas last year. His eyes were wide, too, and he, too, did not move at all. But his were still shiny, like it wasn’t that long ago when he had done this. There was still life in his eyes, fading quickly, but if he had just gotten there a few minutes before, then maybe he would still have a mother and father. Did I do this? Of course not, but he was so young, and he had just walked into the deaths of both parents, one overdosed and the other shot himself. But he didn’t know that. He was so young, so innocent. All he knew was that they were gone. 

He started to cry, then he started to scream, which was when Mrs Park ran into the house, leaving Jay behind in the car. She grabbed Jungwon and picked him up, taking him out of the house as he screeched for his parents. She held him close, trying to keep him from going back inside as she lowered to the ground. “Jungwon, Jungwon—” But he didn’t listen to her. He just kept screaming and crying out for them. 

The police arrived not even five minutes later. They questioned Mrs Park for a while, but there wasn’t much to even ask. It was pretty clear what had happened. His father had planned it all. He drugged his wife and let her overdose and once she had passed, he shot himself. It was a murder-suicide. Jungwon never knew why his father would do such a thing, nor did he ever ask Mrs Park if she knew anything. After all, Mr Park and Jungwon’s dad were best friends. 

When they carried their bodies out in body bags, Jay told Jungwon to look at him instead. He thought it was the least he could do, to help Jungwon through this. This night was going to bond them together forever, even if it was a traumatic one. Jay’s parents were divorcing, and Jungwon’s parents were dead. But Jay felt that it was his duty to protect Jungwon from now on, to take care of him and keep him safe. Jungwon was his best friend, his person, and as he lost everything that night, the least he could do was protect him, even if it’s for the rest of their lives, for the rest of eternity. Jungwon meant everything to Jay, even if he never knew how to show it.

“Don’t look,” he whispered to Jungwon, “Just look at me,” he tried to give him a sympathetic smile, but Jungwon just looked down at the grass they sat on. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? Are you feeling any better?” Jungwon just shook his head. “Ma’ said your grandma’s on the way here. Are you going with her?”

Jungwon nodded, “Probably,” he looked up a little, “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Jay held Jungwon’s hand tighter, “That’s up to you,” he said, “you can if you want to. You know my ma’ loves you more than she loves me,” 

“That’s not true,” Jungwon playfully pushes Jay.

“Yes it is,” Jay replied, “She always asks when you’re coming over. You’re like another son to her,” and he lowered his head. Jungwon frowned, remembering it, too. A couple years before, Mrs Park had gotten pregnant again but she lost it during her second trimester. It really hurt her, and Jay always wanted a sibling. It just wasn’t in their favor.

“I’ll stay with my grandma tonight,” Jungwon said, “but I’ll stay with you tomorrow night. Is that okay?” He fiddled with his hands a little, starting to feel uneasy again.

Jay nodded, “I’ll ask Ma’ if we can stay up tomorrow. It’s a special day,” he smiled so brightly at Jungwon, everything disappeared around them. The cops, the talks about his dead parents, all of it faded out when Jay smiled at him then. Jay looked at his little TMNT watch and smiled even more, “Actually, it’s past midnight.”

Jungwon tried to smile, but his lips wouldn’t curve, they just tilted downwards and he felt the sting in his nose like he was about to cry. He had lost his parents that night, drowning with guilt of something he didn’t do. He knew what day it was now, and he’d never forget it. 

He had turned nine.

There was a moment then, Jungwon saw the same look in Jay’s eyes as he did in his father’s years ago. He felt the same stillness in his body as he did that night, too. This was too real, a flashback gone wrong. He wished this wasn’t real at all, he wished this was just an awful nightmare that should’ve been over a long time ago. All of his friends were dead, their bodies spread throughout the property. Sunoo, Heeseung, Sunghoon, Niki, Jake, Jay. He was the only one left. What was he supposed to do now? If he left that night, he would either be framed for their deaths, or be called a victim and sent to the nearest insane asylum—which was just as bad as being framed because either way, he’d be a prisoner. He didn’t want to live like that. He didn’t want to live with the constant reminder that his best friends were dead. He was alone again, left behind, holding the lifeless body of his oldest friend. Sunoo always inspired Jungwon, Heeseung would encourage him to be the best version of himself, Sunghoon would help him with self-doubt and self-esteem, Niki would listen to him vent and be someone who can actually relate to some parts of his life the others could never understand, Jake always made him feel included and never forgotten about, and Jay was his person. And he lost them. He lost every single one of them that night in the span of an hour and a half. He had to make a choice. He could either leave or stay. Live or die. 

He leaned his head back again, looking up at the ceiling, cursing at the universe for all he had lost that day when a single drop of blood fell onto his cheek when his head was still back. He slowly leaned forward, laying Jay down onto the floor carefully so he could stand up and look at where the drop of blood had fallen from. Then, from the ceilings and the edges between the ceilings and the walls, blood started to pour into the room like a normal day in Seattle. It was raining blood, covering Jungwon in it. It stained the walls, the floors, the chair, the piano, it covered Jake and Jay’s bodies, too. He did not know whose blood it was, and a part of him didn’t want to find out. He didn’t care for any of it anymore. He had lost everything. 

He had made his choice.

A white dress with long, see-through sleeves and a gentle bow tied on the chest—that was the dress Lydia decided to wear to the party that night. She had gotten home from work about 9, finished getting ready by 9:45 and then drove to the address Jake had given her. She had a necklace hanging around her neck, white chain with a pearl at its end, white converse on her feet because she never liked the way heels felt around her feet. Her hair was down, some tied back with a clip. She was excited for the party, excited to see the boy she had been crushing on for years, hoping things will finally work out in her favor, hoping he felt the same as she did.

When she finally pulled up to the address, she parked beside Jake’s. She could recognize it before she could recognize anyone else’s. She almost didn’t realize that the only cars there were Jake and his friends’ cars. Was the party over? Or had it not even started yet? But past the brick wall, along the tall bushes as she walked on the concrete pavement just outside the gate. But the gate was already open, she expected an estate like this would have a password you would have to say into an intercom for the gate to open. She was nerdy like that, the perfect girl for a guy like Jake. The perfect girl for Jake.

But the concrete led to an empty yard, but no house. There was no house at all. It was just a huge yard covered in roses and lilies and the other flowers she couldn’t remember the names of. She first wondered if this was all a prank, that he didn’t like her at all. But then, when she stepped closer, she saw something glisten from the moonlight above her. She knelt down and picked the item up, seeing it was only a necklace. An amulet, a ruby embroidered with silver. 

The foundation was the first to collapse, cracking the blood stained walls and shattering all the windows. The roof came next, falling through each floor until the ground floor, shaking up the house so badly that the walls started to weaken and fall with it. Soon, the house collapsed in on itself, burying itself into the ground underneath it. The garden began to spread, roses and lilies appearing over the grounds that once kept a house there. The house was gone, wiped from existence, buried with its memories, its sins, and the bodies inside of it. Jungwon did not leave that night. He may never leave, his fate becoming the same as his friends’ who he all lost. He stood there in that red stained room, covered in blood that wasn’t his, knowing he was going to die. He didn’t mind, however. It was fate. He was going to die. He’s known that from the beginning. But even that did not scare him. Because at the end of it all, Jungwon was okay with dying. He was okay with never waking up from this nightmare, leaving behind everything he once loved, losing the people he cared for most, his future, his academics, his family. It was okay. He was okay. Even as the blood continued to drip down his face, crushed under all the debris, his last breaths were short but his words were shorter. “I think it’s strange you never knew,” it was a lyric from that song Jay loved so dearly. Even as he was dying, he thought of Jay, even as he’s suffocating, as his heart is slowing, as his lungs are filling with blood, Jungwon didn’t care. He knew it was okay. There, he took his last breath before becoming only a memory. There, Yang Jungwon died amongst his best friends, forgiven for his mistakes, remembered for his life, and alive in his memories. There, he will live forever with the people who loved him for him, who became his family, the only people he ever needed. There, he died smiling in his last breath.

fin.

✧✧✧

well, if you made it this far, thank you for reading all of this! i hope you all enjoyed this <3

[fleckcmscott]

Before

Summary: Released from Arkham State Hospital, Arthur works towards returning to his normal life. With a big item checked off his to-do list, his romantic soul spends the evening dreaming of the future to come.

Words: 2,300

Warnings: None

A/N: This oneshot is the result of a collaboration with @sweet-nothings04​. 💜 After coming up with a few basic parameters, we went off to compose our own pieces. Our stories turned out to be similar in ways both big and small! @sweet-nothings04​, thanks for agreeing to this fun project! Here's a link to her story: Finding Rhythm. Hope you all enjoy our work! 😃

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Penny's thin voice rose behind him, a hair above her Grizzly Adams rerun. "Happy, did you mail my letter?"

Arthur shut the door, slid the chain lock into place. The deadbolt gave a confident click. Shrugging off his mustard jacket, he answered as he had a hundred times before. "Yeah. I dropped it in the mailbox on the corner."

"You should've put it in the lobby for the postman."

Mr. Wayne's not gonna answer any of them, anyway. Lips flattened, Arthur shoved his hand in his pocket. Jittery fingers plucked at a loose thread. Three long inhales later, he pushed aside the assumption by walking towards her armchair. The television's dull blue lent his mother an austere look, sharpening her cheekbones, bleaching the blush she wore. He switched on the floor lamp to the left.

"Sorry, mom. Here." He held out the trinket he'd found at Helm's pharmacy, a shop full of panicked men who'd forgotten today was The Big One.

A foggy blink at the offering, then at him. "What is it?"

"It's a present. For Valentine's. It's a-" He flipped over the pink, scalloped tin to squint at a label. "Pot-porey. It smells real nice. I thought you'd like it in the bathroom." The plastic air freshener on the toilet tank was one item he hadn't yet replaced. The list of chores to do after his release from Arkham a couple weeks back had been as long as a sermon he didn't want to hear.

"Oh, Happy. It's pronounced 'potpourri.'" She traced the lid's embossed doily, the tiny roses and pearls. When she popped it open, artificial florals floated. Strong enough to imprint on his smoker's nostrils. Penny smiled, soothing the smart of her correction, making him smile in turn. "What time is it? We don't want to miss Murray."

"Murray isn't on on Saturdays," he said. Her absence tended to worsen in the evenings, as though the simple act of sitting in a chair wore her out. He padded to the kitchen, flicked on the fluorescent above the sink, and spoke to her over the breakfast bar.  "And it's time for you to eat."

Two frozen dinners stared at him, four course meals in a sturdy teal box. A Mexican style entrée or meatloaf. Beans and rice were easy for Penny to chew, though the beef enchiladas risked a mess. Oh well. A pile of laundry already awaited in the bathroom. The addition of a slopped-on nightie wouldn't break his back. He popped the aluminum tray in the oven and made a note to get groceries tomorrow.

He cut the enchiladas into bite-sized morsels. The pepper and tomato fiesta sauce made his mouth water. A shock since he couldn't remember the last time eating had been more than survival. He snuck a sample, made a small sound of approval. Once he'd arranged the fork, knife, and paper napkin on the wooden lap tray, he brought it out to his mother.

"Tuck your napkin in your collar," he said, perching on the sofa. "Yesterday went really well, mom. If I get this job, I'll have my own locker." He'd told her this the night before, but with her lack of reaction, he wasn't sure if she'd heard him.

Slow, steady spoonfuls of beans. Focus lost to the TV, where a bearded man conversed with a bear. "That's nice."

Arthur grabbed Gotham Today from the coffee table and uncapped a ballpoint pen. Flipped past the front page and its perpetually dour headlines, sped by Global News, the Arts, Sports to reach the classifieds.

Life insurance salesman would be a real laugh, considering what'd led to his remandment. Commodities system analyst was a riddle he wasn't interested in solving. Typist and legal secretary? Those sounded like women's professions, and even if they weren't, he couldn't spell well enough to do either. And sitting at a desk for eight hours bordered on the never ever.

He circled a blurb for an assistant for a children's show at Gotham Public Broadcasting, and one for what was described as a "driven media consultant." Plans B and C. With any luck after his interview at HaHa's, they wouldn't come into play.

Hoyt Vaughn's office had had the aura of a disorganized closet. Jammed with circus posters, musical instruments, stacks ready to topple. A fifth of whiskey stood on his personal microwave. Aspirin bottles and paperwork littered the man's desk. A giant jack-in-the-box underneath grinned at Arthur's knees.

The interview had been quick as a flashbulb. What was his work history? (Clowning on and off, jobs that required overalls and staying out of sight.) The question of why he'd been out of work had caught him off guard. When Dr. Kane had said she'd assist him with gaining employment, he'd assumed that'd meant she'd explain. Arthur had tried to answer honestly, stated he'd been in the hospital - no, not that one, the other one. Whether Hoyt's laugh had meant derision or connection hadn't been clear, so Arthur had cackled along with him.

Performers had to supply their own costumes and props, and they were to be available any time, any day. Most clowns worked the day shift. Ladies entertainment filled the nights. (Hoyt had thrown him a withering look. "You're not stripper material, are ya?" "No. I wanna be a comedian.") Arthur wouldn't mind being an independent contractor. A job was a job, and it seemed like this was one he could love. Where he could fulfill his purpose while bringing money in. Money sorely needed.

When Penny had taken her last bite of rice, he wiped the spots around her mouth her napkin had neglected. Washed crumbs and splats from the lap tray. He went through the routine of soaping a washcloth to cleanse her face, putting toothpaste on her toothbrush. Once she was tucked beneath her purple, velvet quilt, he patted her cheek.

"Don't stay up too late," he said. "I'll be in the other room." Then he slipped out and sighed the sigh of the overburdened and underpaid.

He loved Penny with all his heart. And it often dawned on him that she was about all he had. She'd been the one to call the doctor, have him committed, ensure he received the treatment he'd need. There was no one else who cared to keep him around. But it could be a challenge, not have any space. Not having a break from responsibilities to tend to himself, to learn to tend to himself the way Dr. Kane had outlined.

He shut off the TV and headed to the kitchen. He prepared his hundredth tray of ready-made meatloaf, tater tots, peas, and dessert. He cut a one inch slit in the foil over each side and uncovered the brownie, a guaranteed path to a crunchy crust.

Eager to enjoy the evening's programming, he turned the windowsill radio to 1080 WGCR. But Sears Radio Theatre had been supplanted. A call-in show had stolen its throne, a show for people to request songs and dedicate them to their sweethearts. It made sense, given the day, but Arthur wasn't sure he liked it. A silly program would've entertained.

The DJ's voice dripped like honey. "Here's Stevie Wonder's 'Signed, Sealed, Delivered,' going out to Mark from Linda." The funky beat slithered into Arthur's white sock, wiggled his right big toe. Greg attempted to win back his ex with "Don't Make My Brown Eyes Blue." And then a recorded message, an earnest plea from starstruck lover Brian. "Donna, I hope you're listening. I love you. I can't imagine my life without you. Would you marry me?"

Arthur spun the dial to a middling frequency.

Umami sodium wafted through the kitchen, the familiar fragrance of food on clearance. Bracing himself on the counter with both hands, he allowed subconscious meanderings to filter to the surface. He thought he understood the nature of love. What would it be like to love someone enough to want to marry them? All of it was supposed to start with a date, right? Dinner and a movie? With his new job, maybe he'd get the chance to meet a pretty girl. A nice break from the pendulum that swung between the apartment and appointments. His eyelids fell shut at the chance at serendipity. The idea of preparing a homecooked meal for her.

A magic wand would fall from gloved hands, roll down the sidewalk to collide with pointy-toed high heels. "Of all the shoes in all the cities in all the world," he'd say, "it rolled into yours." A stolen line that masked earnest longings beneath a veneer of playfulness. She'd return the wand with a smile, sweet and as open as his own heart. He'd thank her. Be brave enough to inch forward. Enclose her palm in his.

Given the possible interactions with his medications, Arthur didn't keep alcohol in the house. Now he'd have to take that risk. Helm's had inexpensive bottles, the nice looking ones with gold foil on the cap. Not a red, though, or a white, but a vibrant pink to match the occasion.

When she'd knock on 8J's door, the peas wouldn't be done. He'd've misjudged the timing of the instant potatoes and the meatloaf. But she'd be too kind to hold it against him, for kindness would float all around her. Rather, she'd peck his cheek and follow him to the kitchen, where they'd roll up their sleeves and shell them together.

Women in movies always dressed up for dates, and this dream girl of his would be no different. Slacks that flattered her hips, hugged her slim waist, flaunted a dip perfectly shaped for cupping. A sweater, perhaps a fiery orange or sophisticated brown, ended at the belt line, teased a flash of her oval navel. She'd wear a gold charm around her neck, a sun to match her smile, which he'd replace with a scarf by the night's end. One of his future props, a memory of what'd brought them together. It knotted his insides, thinking how near he'd have to stand to tie it. And she'd wear perfume, a scent a thousand times lovelier than the potpourri tin.

Dinner would be at the breakfast bar, not the dining table. Sitting side by side would make it easier to bump his knee to hers. Butter melted over the peas, a dollop of sour cream and black pepper enlivened the potatoes. She'd take a bite, roll her eyes into the back of her head, tell him what a good idea it'd been to double the Worcestershire sauce in the main. When she asked for seconds he followed suit, even though he rarely wanted firsts.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

Arthur cracked the oven door, welcomed heat into the room. The motion reminded him of a bow. He held the oven mitt as if it were Dream Girl's hand. "May I have this dance?" Nah, too formal. He wasn't approaching a stranger. He gestured with the glove again. "Would you like to dance with me?" That was better, closer to how a man would ask a friend. Straightening up, he smiled down at the face in his mind. "I'd love it if you danced with me. This is one of my favorite songs. Do you like it, too?"

Whether a waltz or cha cha, the steps themselves wouldn't matter. The simple nearness of her would suffice. He could almost sense the weight of her hand on his shoulder. The graze of her hair at his jaw. Fire in his cheeks forced him to pretend to study her feet while actually admiring her breasts. Giggling, she spun once on her heels and flew into his arms. The most beautiful sight he'd even seen. The most wonderful feeling he'd ever felt.

His fingers trembled at the small of her back. If he wasn't careful, she'd slip through them. Shrugging one shoulder, he shook his head. "Dancing with you seems like a dream."

Music wrapped around them, pressed them closer. No light passed between their forms.

Beam a billow of affection, she sighed and craned towards him. "Kiss me before we wake up."

Lips poised to capture hers, he bent to meet her, caress her silken-

"This is a song for all you lovers out there," the radio said. A pin prick breaking a spell, returning Arthur to a world of gold-flecked formica and solitude. "Whether you've found your special someone or are still searching, here's a cut for you tonight."

Ella Fitzgerald's mellifluous half soprano came to subdue the sting. He tore the foil from the tray, swaying and singing under his breath, hums replacing forgotten words. "...Shouldn't we fall in love...hearts are made of it...take a chance..." The song's opening made his mouth twitch. It encompassed all he desired, everything he'd just imagined. A trickle of what might be called hope quivered his belly. It couldn't be a coincidence.

Fork in hand, he settled on the stool at the breakfast bar. Pulled his journal across the counter and opened it. The negative thoughts he scrawled mornings, noons, and nights wouldn't knock him down. He grabbed his pen and scarfed a hunk of meatloaf. Grinned and nodded approval as he wrote.

"I met my new boss. I have big shoes to fill as a clown. I would love this job. I think a lot of peeple work there. It'll be eazier if I half money coming in - and I coud pay for a date! I'd like to meet my special someone. I wonder where she is a lot. Its so weerd but today everybody's thinking about it, so I'm just part of the crowd. I should write some jokes for her in case she works there, too."

~~~~~

Ella Fitzgerald - Let’s Fall in Love

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[my-mt-heart]

hi mt.

i’ve been reading your posts recently and you’ve been pretty critical towards zabel. as someone who’s watching the show i can’t disagree, there is much i don’t like, but you seem absolutely sure he isn’t acquainted with the original show (and even more so with caryl’s story), but whilst that’s true in terms of daryl’s character, i can’t really say about caryl.

what i mean is, he seems to have done his homework, or at least a part of it: the daryl we see in the spin-off reminds me of the way he was in the first seasons, when he didn’t really trust the group or anyone around him. sure it feels real far from the character he’s grown into during the last seasons, but maybe they thought it’d make sense for him to act the same way in this somehow similar context?

and this brings me to the next point, caryl. if you watch carefully, the hints are all there: episode 1, the flashback, episode 2 daryl blows up some tanks of gas in a way that any diehard twd fan will immediately associate with carol’s terminus scene. and we know there’s another more important flashback of carol and sophia coming up, and for that they even had to do specific casting and everything. Daryl now even carries a knife identical to carol’s signature weapon.

so maybe zabel did do his research? and if not, who do you think is responsible for these tiny details inserted here and there? is it all some sort of shipbaiting to keep caryl fans interested despite all the shit they’ve had thrown their way?

We can assume Zabel read scripts from the first few seasons because on the page, Daryl's scars are first described as cigarette burns and when asked about them in the spinoff, Daryl says his "daddy was a smoker." But that makes me wonder if Zabel only realized when the time came to look at reference photos that the burns never actually made it on screen in the main show, and that's why they're suddenly plain as day in the pilot. Why doesn’t Daryl have the bullet scar on his chest? We see it in 10x07, so did Zabel not watch that far? Does he not know Daryl got shot in S6/S7? Does he not realize Norman’s newer tattoos were visible in S11 and didn’t need covering up? (Side note: if you are going to make the choice to cover them up, make sure they’re consistently covered up 🤦‍♀️)

If the intention was for Daryl to revert back to the "fish out of water" he was in the early seasons, then yes, Zabel would probably have to watch at least parts of those seasons to get a sense of his voice. Fwiw, I think that’s an odd decision because that's not the version of Daryl most fans were drawn to. It was the nuances he started to show during and after the Cherokee rose scene with Carol. I suspect Zabel was following the mandate to “reset” the character, but at the same time, he still should’ve been 💯familiar with the source material. That’s doing the bare minimum, so I don’t excuse him for cutting corners if that’s what he did, and there seem to be too many inconsistencies to prove otherwise.

I also don't doubt he and/or the other writers watched pivotal Caryl scenes because, yes, the parallels are there like you said. Whether they were always intended to set up Caryl’s arc or initially just evoke the same emotions for another character/relationship, well 😒 Keep in mind that contrary to what will inevitably be spun, it was not known from the start that Melissa would come back. Yeah, there's the flashback in the pilot, and Daryl looking at the photo of the Irish man with his wife and daughter, and the Irish man's V.O., but those may not have ever been in the script, they could've just been decided on in post. I can’t be sure, but the point I’m driving at is, if Zabel didn't know he had to set up Carol's return for a good long while, honoring her character and Caryl’s relationship wouldn’t have been his first priority. His fist priority would’ve been the characters he could actually write for. I’m not suggesting he maliciously gave away Caryl’s arc. AMC on the other hand tends to assume women are interchangeable and if one character mirrors our favorite, we'll grow to like that character for the same reasons. Remember Maggie’s jacket that we all said looked like Carol’s? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Obviously we know that Carol is coming back now and at some point Zabel would’ve had to start writing to that which he could’ve done by retroactively adding small bread crumbs in the first half like the flashback, maybe some lines of dialogue, or anything else that wouldn’t have required massive rewrites (or more rewrites than there already were). So if something feels shoehorned in or contradictory (I know people were talking about the scene where Daryl tells Laurent he has “nothing like” a wife and kids), that could definitely be why. Not saying all of this to rain on anyone’s parade. If the small moments bring you comfort, please do take them. After all the “parallels” throughout the Leah arc went absolutely nowhere though, I would personally much rather wait until we get the real deal i.e. an explicit Caryl arc before I bother to watch.

I’ve definitely written too much for someone who’s not watching and I’m trying to wait a few more weeks before I elaborate on anything, but since you asked, I hope this gives you a better sense of where my head is at right now.

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

i wrote this while listening to 2000's rock so mmmm tone what's that

~.~.~

Being brought suddenly to anyone’s office would’ve felt like a punishment in its own right, but seeing the door was weirdly worse. Wasn’t that the same office Zacharie was about to check out before it all hit the fan? Fae had been amicable at best to the idea of not being forced to mingle longer, but now fae laughed nervously.

“This is real swell and all but…” When fae tried to stop, the guards at faers sides just grabbed faer again.

“C’mon. What’re you so afraid of?” The other one snickered, dragging faer along. Kronos put up a struggle, but without faers gear?

Zacharie was unceremoniously shoved through the door, which promptly slammed shut. Fae turned to look at it, wishing for just a moment fae wasn’t in cuffs. This felt excessive. Fae wasn’t that violent. There were people here who probably did way worse—ate their mothers for a giggle, maybe. Though perhaps it was apples and oranges. Kronos did giggle like a child over the sight of a body with a door’s lock lodged into its neck.

Holy shit, did fae belong here?

“Zacharie Ratkovic, correct?”

Faers hairs stood on edge. No, fae did not belong here. Those skills were normally for work. Fae looked over faers shoulder at him, posture rigid. “Sure.”

The noncommittal answer got a chuckle out of him. “Please, have a seat.”

“Is this about me staying away from everyone?” At least Zacharie did come to sit. If you could call it that. Fae balled up in the seat immediately, even if the handcuffs made that a hassle. “Because if it is, you’re not going to get me to socialize, or whatever.”

“I make it a point to meet all new inmates,” and it honestly came out rather rehearsed. Lots of people ask if they’re in trouble. “Though your avoidance is a concern of mine, it’s not the reason you’re here.”

Zacharie gladly hid most of faers face behind faers knees. Hugo Strange was a name fae recognized from the few times fae could beat information out of Oswald (not literally, for once.) “Mhm.”

“You’ve been rather stressed ever since you were brought here,” and that made Zacharie’s eyes narrow. Brought here? Zacharie broke in all on faers own, and Oswald’s too scared shitless of the place to double cross faer like that. “so I will try to keep this brief.”

“Do I get a smoke? Something to drink?”

Hugo knew fae was a smoker. Still, he feigned ignorance. “A smoke?”

Zacharie had to maneuver a bit to do so, but faers legs dropped to the floor in a huff over it all. “Yeah. Don’t tell me you guys haven’t searched my jacket and shit. There should’ve been a pack in there. I was gonna take a celebration smoke…” Maybe fae was too confident, but fae forced a smirk. “Y’know, after I figured out what the hell you guys did here that made Penguin act like the world was ending every time Arkham came up in conversation.”

“You mean Oswald Cobblepot?”

The smirk was hard to keep up when he sounded so weirdly excited. “Sure, yeah.”

“Now, how do you know Oswald?”

Fae hesitated. “Work for him.” Vague enough, fae decided.

“You work for him,” and he purred it like it was some grand thing. “You should know better than to keep such dangerous company.”

“You saw what I did to your guard.”

“Yes, I did.” He chuckled some, gesturing one handed. “Punching out the locks the way you did was very creative. His death was quick. Tell me, were you trying to kill him?”

Zacharie scoffed, blowing hair out of the way. “Obviously.”

He looked a little surprised by such a flippant answer. “Why?”

“Why,” Zacharie repeated, like the question itself offended faer. “Because when you break into an asylum, one of your number one enemies is the guards. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“Was that really all? From what I’ve read about you,” and Zacharie’s stomach dropped. “You seem to utilize violence rather happily. Almost like a game.”

“Out of my head,” Zacharie hissed.

“I can’t help if you won’t let me—“ but Zacharie barked a laugh. “Help,” fae asked, tone incredulous. “Oswald didn’t tell me much, but he told me enough. Therapy’s not your thing. Mad science is.”

“And what evidence do you have of this? Besides Oswald’s word.” He waited. Zacharie didn’t say anything, just looked away. “Would it not surprise you if he simply had a bad experience, and is lashing out over it?”

Zacharie never really believed the idea that there was mad science in an asylum. The elevator was the closest thing fae could come to calling properly weird, but fae could still rationalize that. Never did fae get a look around that basement full of creations. To Zacharie, that could be any number of things. Faers first thought was storage or archives of some kind…

“I guess it wouldn’t shock me.” Fae still looked like a bristling cat. “But Oswald’s word does mean more to me than yours.”

“Fair enough.” Zacharie jumped a little as he opened a drawer from his side of the desk. Fae tried to lean and see what he was doing, but fae didn’t need to long. A pack of cigarettes was retrieved and opened.

“Are you particularly picky?”

“Only about food,” fae joked. “Not my brand, but…”

“You’ve been rather irritable, but also more cooperative than expected.” He held out one between two fingers, and it took all of faers will to not just snatch it immediately. No, fae took it like that didn’t look like heaven in a stick. A lighter came next. Fae did snatch that one.

“I see what you’re doing.” Flick, flick, light. “But y’know what? Fine.” Fae took a drag, lighter left on his desk. “We can have a real conversation now.”

“Excellent.”

[goldblumstandard]

Goldblum IMAGE

⚠️ MILD TO MODERATE CANON DIVERGENCE, INTERACT AT YOUR OWN PERIL ⚠️

Name Mickey Holliday

Age 42

Orientation definitely into women; unsure about men

Occupation sharp-shooter/enforcer for Vic Valentine (local mob boss), recently been shooting for Jules Flamingo (rival mob boss)

Species human

Origin Mad Dog Time (1996)

Positive resourceful, cunning, quick, charismatic, personable

Negative self-interested, prone to disloyalty, cocky/arrogant, lascivious, dangerous

Description 6’4”, wiry; brown hair and brown eyes; favors dark suits; habitual smoker; favors a gold Rolex on the left wrist and a gold signet ring on the right pinky

Personality The quick, personable enforcer and sharp shot of Vic Valentine’s vicious Chicago gang, Mickey Holliday is no stranger to danger. Charming and flirtatious, Mickey has a way of winning people (particularly women) over—and a bad habit of applying that charm to exactly the wrong person for a peaceful night. He’s an adrenaline junkie who thrills at the danger, always, and who will inevitably pull anyone in his life down into the depths with him.

History A longtime personal friend of Vic Valentine, nobody was surprised when Vic’s first act in charge was to pull Mickey up alongside him. The pair had come up through the ranks of the mob together, and they probably would’ve remained that way if it wasn’t for the poor combination of Mickey’s roaming eye, Vic’s deteriorating mental health, and the undeniable beauty of the Grace Sisters. Rita should’ve been enough for Mickey, in most ways she was—but he and Emily shared something beyond the physical well before he and Rita’d gotten together, and when Vic proved too much, well. Things happened, the result of which was Rita leaving Mickey in a huff, Vic leaving in a straight jacket for the funny farm, Emily leaving Vic’s place for a secret apartment Mickey helped her find, and a whole lotta hungry mobsters leaving their territory to start chipping away at Vic’s. Ben London (the jackass) took over as capitano while Vic’s out and Mickey, feeling no love for Ben, rented his services out to Jules Flamingo of the Flamingo Casino.

Potential Triggers cheating, character violence, character death, potential gore